Precious Gems - Sierra Hill Page 0,4
grandmother’s house, but since it’s late and my grandmother is asleep, I’m meeting my cousin here first. He works here.”
Dorian squints underneath her false eyelashes, giving me a dubious stare but doesn’t question me. Why should she? And why should she even care?
Knocking on the driver’s glass barrier, she signals the driver who comes around the car to open my door and extract my bag from the trunk.
Suddenly my nerves dance, as if someone turned the volume up to high on some Techno-pop dance groove. I have no idea what, or rather, who awaits me once I step out of the safety of this car and into the ominous building.
I’m like a blind rat following a trail of cheese, with the only instructions provided to me being this address and a name. A code name I am to use as a way of introduction.
Jersey.
Using this code name will signal my arrival to the fence for the meeting my father arranged. I don’t know who the fence is, whether they are male or female, or even who I’m to ask for. It’s all very cloak and dagger, which I’m sure my father structured that way on purpose.
He doesn’t trust you.
Which is fine, and nothing I can change now, but it certainly makes it more complex. But it’s just a means to an end. A well-engineered process for completing the job. Get in and out and return home with the satisfaction of knowing I accomplished the goal and I can leave with my freedom intact.
Dorian rests her hand gently on my wrist and gives me a quick, almost motherly squeeze. I nearly flinch at the contact, but my focus is redirected as she removes something out of her Hermès wallet and places it in my upturned palm.
“Darling, if you need anything while you’re here, I’m staying at the Grand Plaza Hotel. Don’t hesitate to call me. I’m happy to help.”
I look down at the card and at the diamonds on her fingers and her bracelets. For a split second, I consider doing what I’ve been taught to do all my life. To swipe those rings right off her long, manicured hands without notice. I could do it so easily, just like I switched out the contraband in her purse. It’s amazing how a little redirection can open up opportunities.
But the thought of doing it to Dorian makes me queasy. She’s been a sweet and helpful asset, and regardless of the fact I’ll never see her again, I hate the thought of damaging that trust. Even if those rings are probably worth a fortune and she wouldn’t even miss them.
I smile sweetly, thanking her profusely for the ride, as I lean in to kiss her on both cheeks the European style I’ve seen on TV, before getting out of the car.
“Thank you, Dorian. I’ll definitely call if I need anything.”
Closing the door with a quiet snick of the latch, I turn to find the driver handing me my meager belongings.
“Thanks,” I acknowledge, unceremoniously throwing the backpack over my shoulder and staring at the building in front of me.
He grunts, turning around and skirting around the hood of the car, as Dorian rolls down the window, a warning tone in her voice.
“Be careful, darling. Nothing good ever happens here late at night for a young girl. If I were you, I’d rethink this and go back to where you came from before it’s too late.”
Her comment is like a bucket of cold ice water thrown over my head, sending chills down my back. But before I’m able to say anything else, the window closes, the tint hiding her face inside.
As the car drives off, I’m left to respond to only passerbys. “I wish it were that easy.”
Chapter 3
As I step inside the large, looming 16th century archway, my senses are assaulted with the loud cacophony of sounds, smells and the sight of strobe lights flashing in time to the techno beat. The music thumps and pounds off a base beat so strong I can feel it in my own bodily vibrations.
Club goers mill about, as I search the room for someone who looks like they expect me. My gaze sweeps across the large, open expanse, landing on the shape of a man standing high above the club’s floor, his hands gripping the railing, as he casually surveys his surroundings like a king measuring the depths of his kingdom.
His posture is stiff. Guarded. Purposeful.
His profile comes into view as he twists, speaking to someone who