by Zoe Blake
Paine wasn’t the least bit sorry he’d put a bullet in the piece of shit’s head.
Shaking off the past, he tilted his head to look at Mira. Her eyes were closed. Those beautiful, full lips of hers were swollen. The skin along her cheek stained a slight pink from where he had smeared her crimson lipstick with his kiss. A pale streak of light from the coming dawn peeked from between the curtains. The golden light fell on her back. It made her skin glow a rosy pink and showed the faint outline of his fingerprints on her hips from where he had gripped her.
He had taken her on the floor like an animal, like a man possessed.
Between laying eyes on her, the woman who had haunted him for two full years, and her trying to kill him…fury and lust had twisted and turned inside him, battling for control.
Then he’d seen the Raj Pink diamond nestled between her breasts…and he knew.
Knew she was the one who had burned him. Who had ruined his life with her lies, her deceit.
He just still didn’t know why.
Rising, he towered over her still, prone form. She hadn’t moved or spoken.
He broke the silence. “I want answers, Mira, and you’re going to give them to me.”
He turned, and despite the early hour, poured himself a whiskey from the sideboard.
Fuck, he needed a drink.
All he heard was a whisper of shifting air.
When he turned back, she was gone. Her still form nothing but an illusion. His little kitten had been primed to run the moment she got a chance.
Dropping his glass, he was at the front door before it could shatter on the hard floor.
It was still locked and secure.
He vaulted up the stairs, turning left into the second bedroom. He knew that was how she’d gained entrance but there was nothing, no hint of movement.
He searched every shadow and dark corner of the tiny safe house but she was nowhere to be found. As in Istanbul, she had vanished into thin air.
Returning downstairs, Paine poured himself another drink, a begrudging smile on his lips. Damn, the woman was good…but he was better.
He would search for her again…and this time he would not give up so easily.
He would find his bad little kitten and make her pay for all her misdeeds.
“Holy shit, she really did a number on you.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Paine was Skyping with Logan, a fellow associate who was currently lying low in Montreal.
Holding an ice pack up to his bruised jaw, Paine grimaced. “A well-placed kick is all.”
“And she got a shot off?” Logan gave a low whistle. “Looks like you’re slipping, old boy.”
“Obviously I let her get that far. I wanted to see who the fuck was out to burn me. I just didn’t expect it to be—”
“A woman you fucked one night and left the next morning a couple of years ago…yeah…what are the odds,” deadpanned Logan.
“It wasn’t like…you know what, fuck you. Do you have a lead on where she might go or not?”
Although preferring to work alone on a per contract basis, Logan was still in The Syndicate’s good graces and one of the few who’d never believed the rumors and lies about him. Paine wouldn’t say he trusted the guy, but he came as close to it as someone like him ever did.
“Well, there’s talk she’ll be in London. There is a special exhibit of the Duchess of Devonshire’s jewels going up at the Tate in two weeks. The Syndicate has a buyer lined up for two of the diamond necklaces and a pearl bracelet.”
Changing the subject, he asked, “Have you tracked down the ex-girlfriend of that idiot who pissed off the cartel yet?” Despite being blacklisted, Paine still had his sources.
Logan just smiled, neither confirming nor denying he had taken the contract to track down some chick named Chloe who had information that just about every nasty character and several governments wanted to get their hands on.
After a moment, Logan turned serious. “Listen, you might want to have a care. If The Syndicate catches wind of this little personal feud you have going on with Mirage, they just might decide to eliminate you both to avoid any possible…unpleasantness.”
The Syndicate was a rich-beyond-measure organization of criminals, politicians and businessmen. A blend of the Knights Templar, the Skull and Bones society and some evil Bond villains. They had bankrolled some of the largest heists in the 21st century. Their influence toppled governments and created kings. While it was extremely lucrative to work for them, it was equally dangerous to cross them and they usually acted swiftly at the smallest threat to their organization. Despite his years of working jobs for them, Paine still didn’t know a single name or even where they based their operation. They were that cloaked in secrecy. Art and jewelry theft were only a fraction of the shit they were involved in. He suspected it might go as deep as gun trafficking and drugs, but he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that they were extremely rich and very powerful. Titan makers and breakers. Only the best got on their payroll. It was a testament to Paine’s skills that they had stayed their hand in having him killed so far. Paine wasn’t fooled into thinking it was a form of loyalty. They probably needed him for something in the future and could then just as easily kill him later.
“What did she try to kill you with?” asked Logan curiously.
Paine’s lips tightened into a thin line. “A .22,” he barely uttered.
Logan burst out laughing. “She tried to kill the legendary Paine Darwin with a fucking... .22? I don’t know whether she is stupid or fucking insane.”
Paine’s eyes narrowed. “Careful. That’s my woman you’re talking about.”
Undeterred by his warning, Logan responded sarcastically, “Does she know that?”
“She will when I’m done with her,” growled Paine.
“Still…a .22…she might as well have said you have a tiny dick!” Logan laughed.
The rest of his laughter was cut off when Paine abruptly ended the call.
He had a trip to London to plan.
Chapter 4
Two weeks later
* * *
Mirage walked briskly into the bright exhibit room. She only spared a quick glance for the empty glass cases with their small black velvet pedestals, primed and ready for the precious diamonds, sapphires and pearls that would soon grace them. Heading for the security guard standing in the corner, she said, “Joe, Mr. Winchester wants to see you. I think he’s going to ask about that schedule change you requested.”
“Thanks, Josie. I’ll tell Martha to watch both rooms and then head on up.”
Mirage waited till the security guard had left the space before getting out her phone and quickly snapping several perimeter photos of the room, careful to make sure she recorded the placement of any last-minute additional cameras. It had been a while since she had swiped something from the Tate and this particular exhibit would have more than the usual security.
Museums were understandably very squirrelly about getting background checks on, and fingerprinting, those they hired to be security guards but less so when they hired the secretarial assistant to the head of security. Mirage had lucked out, really. Usually in preparing for heists she had to take a job as a janitor, patiently spending her days dusting display cases and emptying wastepaper baskets as she cased the place. It would normally take weeks for custodial staff to gain access to a special exhibit. As the secretary to the head of security, she was given free rein around the entire museum. Mirage was certain The Syndicate had arranged for the previous secretary to suddenly want to seek new employment, but she never questioned their methods. Too many questions always led to trouble in her opinion.
These final photos were all she needed to complete her reconnaissance. She knew the security schedule, the floor plan of the exhibit, the placement of the cameras and lasers and her exit route. The new exhibit of the Duchess of Devonshire’s jewels opened tomorrow. They would be placing the jewels in their display cases tonight after the m
useum closed to the public. She would need to strike tonight after the staff had gone. All that was left to do was grab the two GoPro cameras she had staged a few days ago by the security keypads and collect the data on the proper passwords and she would be all set.
It was not ideal. She would have preferred to wait. To watch the exhibit and its patterns a little longer, but there was no time. She needed to keep moving from job to job, country to country if she wanted to stay out of the reach of him. The key was to focus, she reminded herself. And not think of Paine, said the evil voice in her head. She hadn’t had a moment of peace since that night in D.C. Every night in bed, she replayed in her head what had happened. How she’d let it get so out of hand. How her body had responded. She couldn’t understand the man’s influence over her. She barely knew him for fuck’s sake. Yet with a single touch he had managed to derail months of careful planning. Made her forget all about Dev, about revenge, about killing him. Mirage gritted her teeth at the thought of it.
Her opportunity was lost.
Paine now knew it was she who had set him up.
For two weeks, she had barely slept. Jumping at every noise, checking under her bed and in closets for the monster she knew was lurking there. She knew he would come for her.
She’d had her chance at revenge.
It was now his turn.
For some reason, she knew he wouldn’t tell The Syndicate what she had done. Her life wouldn’t be worth shit if he did. No, this was personal and they both knew it. He was the type of man who would handle his own problems.
Reaching into her collar, her fingers skimmed down the metal chain around her neck till they touched the smooth, warm surface of the pink diamond. It was the height of insanity to keep it. She should have tried to fence it, or better yet, thrown it into the Potomac River the moment she’d gotten away from Paine. It was the only thing that could truly connect her to Paine’s thwarted theft of it. A tangible reminder of her deception and guilt in the matter.
But there was a much greater guilt weighing on her, thought Mirage. The kill contract she had just taken out on Paine Darwin.
This was no longer about revenge but survival.
She had no choice in the matter. Now that he knew it was her, he would be coming after her for certain.
What a fucking mess she had created! If she didn’t put the contract out on Paine, he would find her and kill her. By putting the contract out on him, she was basically waving a red flag in front of The Syndicate. It would only be a matter of time before they figured out she was the one who’d stolen the Raj Pink diamond, who’d fabricated the Vermeer story, and who’d taken one of their best men out of the field with her lies and deception. What had made her think she could just ruin Paine’s life, kill him, and walk away with no consequences? In avenging Dev’s death, she may have just ruined her own.
You make your choices. Life will choose your consequences, as her grandfather used to always remind her.
Control. Control over your actions and reactions was the only way to avoid the type of consequences that usually befell her type—criminals. She had forgotten those lessons. She’d let her emotions get the better of her and allowed her reactions to control her rather than the other way around.
What a fucking mess, she thought again for the thousandth time.
Well, she needed this final score and then she would be in the wind. Mirage would truly become an illusion, a memory. She would cease to exist. Disappear.
It was the only way. Still, she couldn’t shake the guilt.
The irony that she was suddenly feeling guilty about putting out a contract to kill a man she herself had tried to kill just a few weeks ago was not lost on her. Things had suddenly shifted. Changed. Her revenge schemes were fine until she was standing over his bed with a gun. Suddenly it was no longer a game, a fantasy she had worked out in her head. It was real with tangible consequences. It was easier when she just burned him from afar. She could separate herself, keep telling herself it was justified, deserved. But facing off with the man himself, seeing the anger in his eyes, and sensing his hurt and confusion about her betrayal… Mirage shivered, suddenly feeling chilled.
Yes, it was the height of insanity to keep the pink diamond.
Mirage tucked the stone and chain safely back inside her shirt and turned to leave the exhibit.
She never saw the tall man angrily observing her every move.
Keeping to the shadows, she walked along Castle Yard Road, preferring never to drive up to a target. Making her way to the back of the building, careful to avoid the reach of the perimeter cameras, Mirage knelt before a large silver panel marked ‘Danger, High Voltage Electrical Equipment.’ Using her pneumatic flush cutters, she severed the hinges to the panel. She then silently removed the screws. Placing the panel to the side, she surveyed the aluminum grating covering a four-foot duct. It was only secured with a simple padlock. Reaching blindly behind her, Mirage felt for the cutters she had laid aside.
A large warm hand clasped her wrist.
Too well-trained to call out, she turned and glared at Paine. Her clenched teeth stifled a hiss of anger.
Laying a finger to his lips, he then pointed to the left.
Mirage watched as a single black Mercedes-Benz S550 slowly wound its way down a small alley toward the Tate. No doubt it was the armored version with bulletproof glass, a steel cage protecting the fuel tank and battery, and flat-proof tires.
Germans, mouthed Paine.
Mirage nodded.
There was a German crew who often tried to hit the same targets. They were extremely well-funded by an organization which competed with The Syndicate for dominance and didn’t mind a little blood splatter on the artwork.
Dammit, thought Mirage. She’d known in her gut tonight was the wrong night. Her impatience had almost gotten her busted or killed.
Paine dragged her by the arm, keeping to the shadows. They moved at a swift pace till they reached Shakespeare’s Globe. He had a car parked on the other side.
It was then Mirage found her voice. Pulling on her arm, she dug in her feet. “I’m not getting in a car with you!”
“You have no choice in the matter.”
“The hell I don’t. If you don’t let go, I’ll scream.”
Paine leaned in close. She could smell the spicy scent of his aftershave. “Go ahead and scream, kitten,” he boldly dared.
Mirage’s lips thinned. He knew she would never alert the police to their whereabouts. Too many questions would be asked. Too many questions led to trouble.
More afraid than she had ever been in her life, she begged, “Just let me go. I’ll disappear. You will never lay eyes on me again.”
Paine smirked. “That’s what I’m afraid of. Now are you going to get into the car like a good girl or do I have to go to Plan B?”
Mirage stubbornly crossed her arms and glared at him.
Two seconds later, she was pounding on the inside roof of his trunk cursing him to hell and back.
She was stuck in that trunk for at least twenty minutes. Judging by the smooth ride, he must have taken her to the outer limits of London where it was less populated. The moment the car stopped, Mirage prepared herself. When the trunk lid swung open, she kicked out with both feet before agilely jumping out of the trunk. She had barely started to run before there was a hand grabbing the back of her shirt.
“I swear to God, I’m going to put a leash on you if you don’t stop running away from me, babygirl.”
Her sarcastic retort was cut off as he put a shoulder to her stomach and lifted her into the air, carrying her into a remote house on the outskirts of London. She only caught glimpses of a red brick façade outside and a shabby living room with worn furniture inside before he carried her into a small, well-lit bedroom and deposited her onto the bed. Before she had even bounced up, she was on her feet, squaring off with him.
Mirage realized with a start it was the first time she had seen him in full light. He seemed even taller and more
imposing. Like her, he was dressed in unrelenting black. The strong angles of his jaw, brow and cheekbones gave him an almost sinister quality. His eyes were so light they were almost a crystalline blue. Stubble dusted his cheeks as if he hadn’t shaved in weeks. His wavy brown hair looked ruffled and unkempt. In short, he looked like a man who had been on the hunt.
Mirage turned her head right then left, looking for an escape route.
“There is none,” he intoned as she watched him uncoil a length of black nylon rope that had been resting on a nearby chair.
“It’s time you and I had a little chat. You’re going to tell me why you tried to kill me and why you burned me.”
“Go to hell,” she spat.
“Oh, I’ve had my ticket punched for that trip for a long time,” Paine said with a seductive wink.
“You know why,” she said through gritted teeth. “Don’t insult me by pretending you don’t.”
“I assure you I don’t. Although I must confess, whatever it is…I can’t honestly say I regret it. Not if it inspired such beautiful anger in those dark eyes of yours. There really is nothing quite as stimulating as a hate fuck.”
With a shrill scream of indignation, Mirage launched herself at him, claws bared. Paine took a step back before quickly looping a simple slip knot over both her wrists and pulling tight. Still she tried to fight him. Dragging her by the rope, he pushed her onto the bed and secured the rope to the headboard, her arms stretched tight over her head.
“I have some questions for you, baby. And you have a rather annoying habit of disappearing on me or trying to kill me. I think this little arrangement will help prevent that, don’t you?”
“You fucking bastard. Let me go! I’ll kill you for this!” she screeched as she swung her legs out trying to kick him.
“You already tried and missed, and I’m sure you remember your punishment for it.”
