The Sapphire Affair (Jewel #1)

Minutes later, Jake drove a few vehicles behind him as Eli motored toward town. “Thank you very much, Mr. Thompson. That’s exactly where I’m headed after I follow you,” Jake said to himself.

He slowed at a red light, a few cars behind Eli, and alongside a green Honda. The light changed, and Eli jetted into the financial district.

Banks, banks, and more banks lined the main street that cut through the heart of Grand Cayman, slicing the island into water and money.

To Jake’s left, the ocean stretched as far as the eye could see, a vast sheet of cool blue. To his right, row after row of big, imposing white structures towered high, with names like Royal Bank and Cayman Finance that promised to squirrel away your coins for as long as you needed them abracadabra-ed.

No questions asked. No explanations needed. Just open the account, drop in some dough, and your money gets all the insulation it could ever need. Sleek black cars rolled along the concrete stretch of street, dropping off sharp-dressed women in monochrome skirts and blouses and men in crisp suits and ties, their outfits a stark contrast to the island lifestyle. The bankers had their own uniform—that of the financiers who had made this country wealthy, and made shady businessmen and women richer.

The man in question parked outside a tall, stark white bank.

Jake grabbed a nearby spot and was about to venture into the same bank, when Eli popped back out. Whoa. That was fast. Eli couldn’t have been in the bank long enough to do anything but grab a few bucks at the ATM. No chance he’d dropped off any hefty sums of cash or checked on goods in a safe deposit box.

Jake ducked out of the way of the revolving door, then walked purposefully to the gurgling fountain with an angel statue outside the bank. He fished for some coins in his pocket and tossed them in, making a wish that this job would pay off.

Eli crossed the street, then headed up a set of steps to a chichi restaurant called Tristan’s with a terrace one story up from the road. Eli rapped on the door, and a tall man answered it, letting him in. Jake couldn’t get a good look at the guy; he only saw a head full of salt-and-pepper hair. Once Eli was inside, Jake walked up the steps.

The restaurant was quiet and the sign said OPEN FOR BRUNCH AT TEN.

He glanced at his watch. That was one hour from now. What was Eli doing here so early? He must be meeting with someone who worked there, and Jake would add Tristan’s to the list of places to check out. For now, this extra hour gave him time to get some other work done. After he left, he weaved through the late-morning crowds in the financial district, until he turned on a side street that boasted smaller banks, perhaps for smaller deposits. He cruised by a few offices, until he reached Wayboard Street with small storefronts bearing signs like DUTY-FREE, WHOLESALE, and UNCUT.

The last one sounded vaguely like a porno flick. He shuddered at the thought, and then shoved it out of his brain.

Rolling the dice, because that was all he could do, he tried the first diamond shop.

Given Eli’s laser focus on that rock on his fiancée’s throat, as well as Marie’s comment about gems, Jake wanted to take the temperature of the diamond business.

Posing as a curious customer, he spoke briefly with the proprietor, but the man was deluged with new customers and quickly told him he didn’t have and hadn’t seen any diamonds with a bluish tint.

Undeterred, he tried another shop. A pear-shaped man with a metal nose ring—such an odd accessory for a guy peddling jewels—tried to pitch him on walking out the door right this very second with a 20 percent discount on a fair-trade diamond set in a white gold band that was a size six but could be reset for the woman of Jake’s dreams.

No such woman fit the bill.

At the next shop, Jake used the weather as a warm-up, with a simple remark about the sunshine.

“They say not every day in the Caymans is wonderful,” the woman replied. “For instance, we only get sunshine and perfect temperatures three hundred and sixty-four days of the year.”

“That three hundred and sixty-fifth day is a rough one, isn’t it,” Jake replied with a smile as he perused the jewels. “I trust business is as fantastic as the weather?”

He was met with a blank stare. Then a curt “yes.”

She bent down to straighten out some displays, making it clear to Jake she wasn’t the type to gab about who was moving what in carats these days.

“Thanks for your time,” he said on the way out, peering down the block, hunting for more. He was flying blind on this recon mission. There were no guarantees he’d glean anything useful from this trip, but he had to keep trying. Porny name or not, he headed into Uncut at the end of the block. The glass cases by the wall were lined with so many necklaces, they nearly blinded him.

A dark-haired man with a thick beard and an eager grin strode up to him. “Greetings and welcome to Uncut, where we specialize in the best duty-free diamonds on the island,” the man said, sounding like a TV commercial. “Are you looking for something for that special someone?”