Red-Hot Vengeance (3 page)

“I only came back to sell my ruby,” Farrell replied, “but I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Carter was silent for a moment. He felt something strange in his chest. Something like a soft sting that prevented him from breathing freely for a minute or two. He coughed, and noticed Farrell was staring at him.

“What?” he asked.

“Are you okay? You look… I dunno… weird,” Farrell hesitated.

“I’m fine. I was just thinking about the ruby,” Carter improvised. “How much did you get for it?”

“A lot,” Farrell said, her eyes glimmering with vanity.

“Should have been mine,” Carter mumbled.

“Well, mister Carter, you weren’t good enough,” she teased him.

“Just a friendly reminder: if it weren’t for me, you’d still be rotting in jail today.” Carter’s cold and bitter tone had finally come back to him.

Farrell smiled widely. It was probably true. But she wouldn’t give him the pleasure of avowing it. So she just kept eating her shrimps.

“What’s wrong, little girl? Cat’s got your tongue?” Carter said. “You can’t admit I’m right, can you?” he added when she didn’t replied. “You never even thanked me.”

“I did thank you,” Farrell defended herself.

“Oh really?”

“Yes. Just now, on your kitchen floor.”

Carter shook his head. He’d almost forgotten how unpredictable she could sometimes be. “How did you do it?” he asked.

Farrell frowned. “You already forgot? Well, first I sucked your—”

“No,” Carter interrupted. “I meant how did you get the ruby back?”

“Oh that,” she laughed. “Wasn’t easy.”

“I know. Otherwise I’d have done it myself.”

“Wow.” Farrell’s voice trembled with surprise. “Did you just acknowledge my superiority?”

Carter sighed. “Just tell me how you did it,” he said exasperatedly.

Farrell narrated her adventure of the year before. Instead of running away from New York like Carter, she had lingered a while in town. She had cut and dyed her hair, and dressed differently than in her usual blue jeans and high-heeled boots. It didn’t take long for her to discover where the police kept the ruby. Once she knew it, she’d sneaked into Williams’ apartment and stole the ruby, leaving only an empty box in its place.

“You broke into a cop’s flat?” Carter asked, astonished.

“Oh yeah,” Farrell said proudly.

“You’re crazy.”

“No, I’m reckless, but I’m good.”

“You are,” Carter admitted, feeling again the sting in his chest.

“Are you gonna eat that?” Farrell asked pointing at the last of Carter’s shrimps.

“No, you can have it.”

Farrell picked up the shrimp, ate it slowly, savoring each mouthful, and licked her fingers when she was done. Carter looked at her. He was discovering another Farrell, one he didn’t know, one so different from the bitter thief he had met one year earlier.

“Tell me about you,” he asked.

“What d’you wanna know?”

“Everything.”

“Hm, that’s a lot. I don’t know where to start.”

“Where do your black eyes come from?” Carter added to give her something to begin her tale with.

“My mother’s a descendant of the Mohegan nation,” Farrell explained.

“A true American, then,” he said with a thin smile.

“Not really,” Farrell confessed. “My father was Irish.”

“Was?”

“Yes, he died years ago.”

A slightly embarrassed silence fell between them. Carter kept gazing into Farrell’s black eyes. She was unable to interpret his look and was starting to feel uneasy.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she said. “It’s creepy.”

Carter lowered his eyes. He cleared his throat while thinking of another question. “What was the first thing you ever stole?” he eventually articulated.

“I think it was a golden pen.”

“What do you mean, you think? You can’t remember your first time?”

“It wasn’t my most memorable one,” Farrell offered as a justification.

“And what was you most memorable one?”

“A ruby. Two of them actually. The first one when I was in my early twenties. It was a necklace. A gold flower with a little ruby inserted in its center. And the second one I think you know.”

“Another flower,” Carter noted.

“What can I say? I like those.”

Carter went silent.

“You’re doing it again,” Farrell said when she noticed his intense look on her.

“Sorry, can’t resist your beauty.”

“Thanks,” she said, blushing. “Why don’t
you
tell me more about yourself?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Carter replied while moving closer to her. “Right now, there’s something else I want.” He bent over the table and kissed her.

Then he lifted her in his arms, and carried her to his bedroom where he laid her on the bed. He kept kissing her hungrily while removing her clothes. She helped him take off his shirt, caressing his strong muscled arms at the same time. Farrell lay back on the sheets to enjoy the view of Carter’s body on hers. His hands were softly sliding along her skin.

Carter kissed her lips, then moved down to her breasts, down again to her belly button, and even further down to her thighs. He playfully caressed her clit with his tongue, kissed and licked her until he heard her breathing accelerate. Farrell abandoned herself to his expert wet and warm tongue. She savored his slow circling caresses with eyes closed. He was good.

After her third scream, Carter stopped and got back to her mouth. He sucked on her bottom lip, but she pushed him away. She needed to recover her senses. Carter didn’t give her much time, though. He wanted to feel her lose control again. He wanted to possess her. Once inside her, he wouldn’t stop until dawn.

**

Farrell stood in the doorway of Carter’s bedroom. She was watching him sleep. The sheets barely covered his beautiful naked body. Farrell was about to leave. She didn’t want to wake him; she didn’t want to say goodbye. After a while, she turned to walk out.

“Leaving?” Carter asked.

Farrell stopped. She smiled and turned back to him. She could hardly see his face in the dark.

“Come here,” he invited.

But Farrell didn’t move. “I have to go,” she said.

“Come here,” Carter repeated.

This time, Farrell couldn’t resist. She sat on the edge of the bed. Carter pulled her to him. He held her against his chest, kissing her neck. Farrell tried to extirpate herself from his strong embrace, but after a few seconds of vain struggle she gave up.

“Why leaving already?” Carter whispered.

“I have a plane to catch,” Farrell answered lazily.

“So I don’t get to hold you one more day,” Carter guessed.

“No.”

“At what time is your plane?”

“Ten.”

Carter laughed. “At ten? So you’re leaving at four. Yeah, makes perfect sense.”

“I don’t like goodbyes,” Farrell confessed. “It’s easier to sneak out.”

Carter loosened his embrace and looked at her in the eye. He loved her eyes. Those brilliant black pearls hypnotized him. “Don’t leave,” he said.

Farrell was so surprised that she was speechless for a while. “What did you say?” she finally managed to ask.

Carter sighed. “You changed me, Juliana,” he murmured. “Changed me a lot, in a way that…” the words got lost under his breath. “Don’t leave,” he continued. “Not now. Not yet.”

Farrell liked the way he pronounced her name. Julie-an-na, with an emphasis on each syllable, like a melodious adagio. She rested her head on Carter’s shoulder. After long minutes, when his breath had become regular with sleep, she slowly got up. She walked on tiptoe to the door, pulled her boots on, and left in the pink light of early morning.

Her

Miss Vaughn had always been granted what she wanted. And now, what she wanted most was that priceless ruby she’d heard about. From what she knew, the ruby was huge and had numerous imperfections. First she thought it would be worthless because of those, but the rumor was that the cracks were part of the sculpture. Indeed, the guy who had carved it into the shape of a flower had made those crevices himself. So they weren’t seen as imperfections, but instead were part of the art and added value to the jewel.

Vaughn had asked all her informants about the ruby to know more. They all told her the same story: the ruby was the work of a French artist, and it had been stolen four months before while in an exhibition at the now infamous Spears Art Gallery in Downtown Brooklyn. No one knew where exactly the ruby was, but everyone knew it was out there, probably in the States and probably even not far from New York.

Knowing that, Vaughn set out on a ruby hunt. She was determined to get her hands on it no matter what. She eventually found a trace of it through a network of different thieves and art collectors. Vaughn couldn’t find the name of the owner of the ruby, but she had a physical description and an e-mail address to make contact. After a quick exchange, a meeting was arranged.

“Is the ruby in that suitcase?” Vaughn asked, instantly noticing the emotionless blue eyes that made the man famous.

“Depends,” he replied. “Is the money in
that
suitcase?”

“All of it, to the last cent,” she said, opening the case so he could see the green.

“Very well, then.”

The ruby passed from his hands to hers, crossing the money on the way.

“It was a pleasure, mister… hm… what did you say your name was?” Vaughn inquired.

“Bond,” the man answered coldly. “James Bond.” Vaughn understood the message, and they both walked back to their cars.

**

Eight months later, Vaughn came across an advert for an art auction sale. She didn’t pay much attention to it until one of her subordinates noticed that a ruby, very similar to hers, was on the list among the most valuable items of the sale. Vaughn jumped up, snatched the paper from the man’s hand and read it herself.

“The most beautiful and precious ruby you’ll ever find. Carved by French artist Adrien Duval and retrieved by skilled hands, the ruby is probably the most valuable jewel of this auction sale.” The ad was completed by a picture showing the glowing red rose.

“But that’s impossible,” Vaughn thought out loud. “
I
have that ruby.”

A few days afterward, Vaughn was at the auction sale to prove that she was the owner of the real Duval ruby. She was a hundred percent certain of it. The man who’d sold the gem to her had provided a result sheet of the tests proving the ruby was real. The paper was signed by Douglas Bright, famous for being the best at authenticating art. Vaughn waited patiently until the ruby was displayed. The animator had just finished introducing the ruby when Vaughn got up.

“That ruby is a fucking fake,” she yelled. Every head turned toward her, but she didn’t care. She was there only to humiliate the seller, a young woman with long black hair, by exposing her fraud.

“It is
not
,” the woman said angrily. “I stole it myself from the art gallery hosting it a year ago.”

“It’s a fake. I bought the real one about eight months ago,” Vaughn continued.

“Now please, miss Vaughn, miss Farrell, calm down,” the animator asked, but Vaughn hardly even listened to him, her deadly gaze being fixed on Farrell. “We have a specialist with us,” he added, “who will authenticate this piece.”

After a loud fuss in the crowd, Bright was called to give his opinion about the ruby’s authenticity. He started looking at every angle of the jewel through his magnifying glass. Vaughn was watching closely while Farrell had moved to talk to someone. Bright soon proved that the ruby was real. Vaughn’s temper got instantly hotter.

“Are you telling me
my
ruby is fake?” she yelled.

“This one is certainly real, and I don’t know of another ruby by Duval. So, yes, yours must be a forgery,” Bright answered with incredible composure.

“Then could you explain
this
to me?” she said, handing him the certificate signed by his own hand.

Bright adjusted his glasses to have a better look at the paper. “I did not sign this,” he said. “I am left-handed, and I always brush ink over the first letters while writing. This signature was made by a right-handed person. I am sorry, miss Vaughn,” he added after a pause, “but that certificate is also a forgery.”

Vaughn couldn’t hold a furious shout which attracted Farrell’s attention. Her interest came back from the man she was conversing with to the ruby.

“Are you still doubting my word, or can we get on with this sale?” she asked, full of arrogance.

Vaughn gave her a most deadly gaze and went back to her seat. She promised herself to get revenge on that insolent bitch. A moment later, the last items were being sold. Vaughn was so caught up in her vengeful thoughts that she didn’t notice the sale had gone so fast.