Family Jewels by Rita Sable

much as he admired her fortitude, he had to find a way to break through.
    “No,” he said, taking a deep breath. “We’re not safe out in the open. Let’s go.”
    She peeked up at him, looking both shy and seductive. “Where?”
    “My hotel room. You’ll be safe there.”
    Cynthia bit her lower lip for a moment, her indecision clearly apparent. Slowly, she nodded. Her eyes were still glossy from her previous tears, making the silvery-gray depths shimmer with sweet promise. But she sobered up quickly.
    “Can we stop by my place first? I really want to check if Moses came home. He’s not an outdoor cat. I’m worried about him.”
    After the way she’d practically melted in his arms the sudden reminder that her cat was still in jeopardy hit him like a splash of cold water. Obviously she cared deeply for this animal.
    “Of course. You’ll do as I say, though, understood? I’m not taking any chances with your safety.”
    “Okay.” She managed a shaky smile.
    He kissed her one last time, gently, just skimming over the plumped satin of her lips before leading her by the hand back to the car. When she was seated he buckled her in himself.
    “Wouldn’t want to break the law,” he said in mock seriousness, recalling her earlier admonishment when he didn’t buckle himself in.
    Her giggle touched his soul. It was so lighthearted and pure—something he’d had rare occasion to experience in the last few years. She really was an innocent person. He strongly suspected that she was one of those rare citizens who lived, worked and played by society’s rules. She stood by her integrity and defended what she believed was right. He knew beyond doubt that she had no idea what the diamond in question was really worth, the enormous wealth it represented.
    Still, if she knew what those cryptic numbers on the diamond represented, would she go after the treasure herself? Reluctantly he admitted he had no way of finding out and that she was much better off never knowing.

Chapter Eight
     
    She sat tense and quiet in the seat beside him when he drove out of the parking garage and rejoined midday traffic. There was no sign of the plain gray sedan that had followed them from the hotel restaurant but that didn’t mean anything. He’d have to change rental cars as soon as possible to throw them off too.
    Cynthia guided him through the city to her apartment on Brookwell Street. He kept his attention focused on the cars behind and beside them. The neighborhood she directed him into was tree-lined, older but well-kept and clean. The buildings were brownstones with neat little rows of steps and wrought iron window bars. A group of young girls played jump rope on the sidewalk. He breathed a sigh of relief. So far, no surprises.
    She pointed across the street. “There’s an empty parking space right in front. My place is on the third floor.”
    “No. Better to park on the next side street and walk in. How well do you know your neighbors?”
    Cynthia glanced at him with a noncommittal shrug. “Oh, a little. Mostly I keep to myself. My neighbor directly across from me is an elderly widow. Mrs. Perkins. She’s nosey but in a sweet sort of way. She doesn’t ever leave her apartment except to take her weekly trip to the hair salon. The place next door to me is vacant. The couple on the other side, they’re nice. They moved in about a month ago as newlyweds. They’re both musicians. Violinists with the city symphony, I think. They’re not home much. I don’t know the people on the first two floors except to say ‘hi’ when I see them in the hall. It’s a quiet building, which is why I like it. I need to be undisturbed when I’m working.”
    Trevor parked the car. She unsnapped her seat belt and began to reach for the door when he stopped her with his hand on her arm. Even though he hadn’t spotted anything out of place so far, he refused to let his guard down. If her apartment was under surveillance, their appearance should