Another long pause. "Okay. Well, I'm at the restaurant on the lunch shift until five and then I have to go home and shower. Want to say like six-thirty?"
"Sounds good."
They disconnected a moment later and he tossed his mobile back onto his desk and leaned back in his chair. There was no question that they could use a refresher, and he still hadn’t seen her card handling skills in action. They were both used to working alone, and relying on another person in order for things to go right was unnerving at best. Making sure they had covered all their bases would probably make them both feel a lot more comfortable about the weekend to come.
Keep telling yourself that, boy 'o.
Fact was, he wasn't thinking a lick about their plan right now. All he could think about was the way Sadie had bent over his couch, dark hair cascading down her bare back.
He shifted as a bolt of lust hit him right in the groin, making his cock go stiff.
This was almost over, and when it was, he was going to give himself a chance to explore this thing with her further. Until then, though? He had to keep his mind out of the gutter and his dick in his pants, no matter how hard it got...
Chapter Ten
"Is it too short, though?"
Jake squeezed his eyes closed and said a silent prayer for strength. If she bent over in front of him like that one more time, she was going to have a way bigger problem on her hands than an exposed ass.
He bit the inside of his cheek and shook his head. "It's a little short, but it looks great. Just don't bend over." Unless I'm behind you, he neglected to add.
It had been an hour of this now. Sadie sailing into a dressing room with an armload of clothes and coming out in her favorites, twirling and posing to give him a little fashion show. Her body was ridiculously hot, and each outfit looked better than the last. This one, though, was the clear winner.
He took another long look, starting at her toes and working his way up. The sandals alone could bring a man to his knees. Platforms, peep-toe, t-bar strap around slim, tanned ankles that made his pervy brain instantly conjure images of those ankles wrapped around his back. Then it was a mile of toned, trim leg before the tiny skirt hugged her full hips. Her nipped in waist was bare --just a nefarious inch of it, a hint of golden skin that made him hope she'd lift her arms and show him a little more. The shirt was loose and gauzy, drooped lazily off one shoulder, showing off her graceful neck and collarbones.
On any other woman, the outfit might have looked plain. A cream-colored skirt and a peach shirt with nude heels. On her, it was like porn and he could barely keep himself from stalking over to her, pressing her against the dressing room door and seeing if she wanted a repeat performance of their last night together.
"Should I try on more or-?"
"No. No, definitely not."
Her face fell and guilt pricked at him. He hated to ruin her time when she was clearly enjoying herself, but his patience was at an end and unless she was interested in some dressing room sex, he was going to have to put this little party to bed.
"That one is perfect. Let's have them bag it up and I'll buy you dinner. I'm starved."
She twisted her torso and plucked at the white tag attached to the seam of her blouse. "Okay," she murmured, blanching as she peered down. She nodded, though, and worked up a smile. "Sounds good. Give me two minutes to change and we're out of here."
Jake watched through narrowed eyes as she sauntered back to her dressing room. He'd known money was an issue for her and it bothered him, but never more so than now. She deserved something nice for herself for a change.
"We'll take the lot of it," he murmured, tugging his wallet from his pocket.
When she came out of the dressing room back in her street clothes, he had to admit, it hadn't been the new duds at all. She looked just as gorgeous in her Levi's as she had in those couture skirts.
"Ready?" he asked, bending to shoulder the five bags the saleswoman had handed him. Her eyes went wide as she flicked her gaze from the white bags to his face and back again.
"What did you do?"
"What does it look like? I bought you the rest of those clothes."
She wet her lips and peered up at him, a frown marring her brow. "But why? I-I don't need them. I just needed the one. Seriously, Jake, it's too much. I don't need you to buy me things. That's not why-" She broke off and huffed out a sigh that sent a long lock of dark hair flying.
"That's not why you slept with me? I know that, Sadie. Shit, if you were willing to sleep with men for gifts and money, I imagine you'd have a lot more of both to go around by now." He took her arm and led her from the store with a nod of thanks to the saleswoman on the way out. "You're doing me a huge favor by even stepping back on the Hannigan thing and letting me take care of my business. The clothes are a gift for that courtesy, nothing more. And frankly? I enjoyed watching you try them on. They looked beautiful on you, and it gives me great pleasure to know that you'll be wearing them. So can we just leave it at that?"
He paused when they reached the passenger's side of his car and she looked up and met his gaze.
After a long moment, she nodded slowly. "Okay, then. I truly appreciate it, and Clarissa will too. I'll tell you one thing, if there was anything that will convince her to start putting on some weight, it will be the lure of these clothes. When she was in remission and feeling well, she was constantly in my closet stealing my stuff."
The bittersweet smile that tugged at her lips was like a shot in the gut. He didn't know what it was like to have a sibling with cancer, but he knew what it was like to watch someone you loved suffer and be totally helpless. It was a terrible feeling and one he wouldn't wish on anyone. When this thing with Alistair was finally over, he was going to find a way to help Sadie and her sister. He was no doctor, but he had a lot of connections. Surely there was something that could be done to ensure that she stayed healthy and cared for…
He pushed the thought aside and turned away to open Sadie's door before stowing the bags in the backseat. He was getting ahead of himself. Who knew if things would pan out this time with Alistair? This might all be for nothing and he could have to start from scratch again. It wouldn't be the first time. And until he had fulfilled the promise he made to himself and to his father’s memory, he would never be truly free.
Maybe Sadie could be his motivation to get it right this time.
He slid into the driver's side and plugged the keys into the ignition. "What are you in the mood for? There's a great Japanese place over on Westmore."
She nodded enthusiastically as she buckled her seatbelt. "I could eat my weight in sushi. Let's do it."
They pulled out of the lot and Sadie clicked on the radio and immediately began shimmying in her seat when a catchy pop song blared through the speakers. There was no question about it. Life was simply more fun when she was around.
Yeah, if there was any way of making this dance with Hannigan his last, he’d do it. Because he wasn’t ready to let this woman go just yet.
***
"So he just left you there?" she asked, laying a slice of pickled ginger on another Alaskan roll. If she kept eating, he was going to have to roll her out of the place, but she couldn’t muster even a morsel of guilt over it. She was having the time of her life with Jake, eating, drinking and laughing over stories of his childhood.
“He sure did, the fucker. With that packet of firecrackers still smoldering, no less. He knew Sister Helen was going to whoop us for that one, and he figured there was no reason for the both of us to take the licking.” Jake threw his head back and laughed at the memory, his obvious affection for his brother warming her to her toes. “Believe me, though, I held my own with him and there was many a day where he took the fall for us both.”
"So are you close now?"
A shadow fell over his face, but he nodded, albeit hesitantly. "We are. Not like when we were lads. There’s…a bit of a wedge between us, you might say.”
“Because of your chosen
line of work?”
His gaze locked with hers, the smile sliding from his face, and she wished she could take it back. Why had she pressed? Sure, when she’d opened up to him about her own struggles, he’d seemed to not only understand but also to empathize. And something told her there was a story in there somewhere, but that didn’t mean he trusted her enough to share it…
“You could say that. It’s been a strain on our relationship for sure.” He picked up his mug of oolong tea and took a long sip of the steaming liquid. “He’s a cop,” he said finally, setting down his cup before meeting her gaze again.
She tried to keep her voice even, in spite of the instant shot of anxiety the c-word sent rippling through her. “That must make things sticky for you.” She popped the roll into her mouth and chewed, waiting to see if he continued.
He went quiet for a long moment and then sat back in his chair and blew out a sigh. "My father was a cop as well. Worked for Scotland Yard. For twenty years, he put his heart and soul into fighting crime. One of his biggest, longest-lasting cases was one he was building against Alistair Hannigan.”
She swallowed hard, forcing the fish past the sudden ache in her throat. Something told her this tale was going to end in tragedy, and part of her wished she hadn’t pressed him to tell it.
“He’d found out that, in addition to stolen artifacts, Hannigan was also dealing in human trafficking. Young girls from Bangkok being sold for sex.”
Sadie’s stomach went sour and she clasped her suddenly chilled hands together. “That’s a terrible crime,” she whispered.
“It is. And Pop refused to let him get away with it. It became an obsession, and every time he thought he had him dead to rights, something went terribly wrong. The key witness went missing, an integral piece of evidence would be misplaced, or there would be an error in processing. And every time he got off, a little part of Pop died when he thought of the little girls he’d failed.”
He shifted in his chair, his gray eyes blazing with silver fire.
“About ten years ago, he had him for real. He'd spent ten months building an airtight case. He had fingerprints, half a dozen witnesses lined up and ready to testify and more. Kept all the evidence in a lockbox and he was the only one with the key. He'd trusted no one, and played it close to the vest. The Monday before he was about to present his findings to his superior, he went to work and when he walked in, his desk was cleared. They shoved him onto the floor and read him his rights. He'd been set up to look like a cop on the take. And now, he had an airtight case against Alistair Hannigan that no one would ever believe. He wound up in prison and they put him in with the local population. He lasted three days before someone shanked him and he bled out on the floor of cell block C."
The words cut her to the quick and her heart gave a squeeze. She leaned in, instinctively taking his hand. "Jesus, Jake. I'm so sorry." She’d lost both her parents and knew how devastating that could be, but having his name smeared on top of that must have been unbearable for them.
"Me too. Part of me thinks he welcomed death by that point, though. Like he willed it to happen.” His jaw clenched and he shook his head slowly, lost in a memory only he could see. “Those girls haunted his dreams and he didn't want to live anymore. Police work was his whole identity. Once that was taken from him, he was done for.”
He went quiet and she squeezed his hand tightly. “So you’re after Hannigan to finish the job he never could?”
“And to avenge his death,” he said, a grim, humorless smile stretching his lips. “My mother gave me the key to the lockbox. Once I began to poke around, it wasn’t long before I realized who was behind the frame up. Hannigan knew Pop was close and wanted to take him down.”
“So you’re going to what? Ruin him financially?”
“That,” he nodded, “clear my father’s name, and hopefully get Hannigan blacklisted so that no one will ever want to do business with him again.”
“And what does Mike want?”
“He’s building a case against Hannigan now. He feels like he’s close to being able to make something stick, but it won’t be enough. It never is.”
“Does he know what you’re doing?”
“Not everything, but he knows enough. Lately, he’s been warning me off but I can’t let it go. Not so that bastard can go to some cushy prison and get out a few months later, just to start that same shit all over again.” He gave her hand one last squeeze before pulling away. “Anyway, that’s my story. And that’s why the money isn’t important to me. I’ve got him ready to invest half his net worth in a venture that doesn’t exist, I’ve got his computer wired so I can gather intel on the people he does shady business with so I can paint him as a snitch and maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll also find something that I can pass off to Mike as an anonymous tip and he’ll do some real time to boot. Then my brother and I can move past this all and things will get back to the way they were."
She could tell by his tone that he wasn't so sure of that, and her heart ached for him. During hard times, all she'd ever had was her family. Now that it was only her and Clarissa, distance between them like that would've killed her.
"And if they don't, then you work at it until they do, you know? But the longer you spend apart, the wider the rift becomes and the harder it will be to find your way back to each other. Start today." Her eyes burned with unshed tears and she blinked them back. "It’s becoming clearer to me every day, tomorrow might never come. Call him up. Tell him you miss him, work through your issues, because you might never have another chance."
He met her gaze and inclined his head, but she could tell by his shuttered expression that she was losing him. She opened her mouth to say more. To ask him if today was the last day on earth, would he rather spend it striving to get revenge on Alistair or sitting at a pub with his brother laughing about old times. But today, right now, he was still convinced that he was doing the right thing and nothing she was going to say to him would change his mind. He had to come to it on his own.
Or not.
"I'll give him a call on Saturday morning, after the poker game. See if he wants to have breakfast."
It was a start. She gave him an approving smile and held up her tea. "To family."
He held his up in return and inclined his head. "To family." He took a sip of his drink and set the mug down, a challenging glint lighting his eyes. "So tell me, Sadie. You've got a lot to say, but do you practice what you preach?"
"Meaning?”
He flashed his dimple at her, and the dark cloud that had fallen over them parted and a ray of light shined down, warming her through. "Meaning, if you weren't promised tomorrow, would you want to spend the rest of your night alone?"
His intense gaze burrowed into her own and she barely suppressed a shiver. There was no dancing around it. He was flat out asking her if she wanted him in her bed tonight, and he expected an answer.
"No."
He cocked his head and locked his gaze on her. “No?”
"No, I mean,” she bit her lip and swallowed hard. In for a penny… “I wouldn't want to spend the night alone.”
She lifted her little cup of tea to her lips, desperate to quench her sudden thirst. Dear lord, the man hadn't even touched her yet and she was already breaking out in cold sweats. Still, after a second to gather her wits, she managed a shaky smile. She could have one more night with Jake before they did the job and parted ways. It was more than she'd ever hoped for and probably more than she deserved. Whatever happened after that, she could deal with it then. For now, she was going to take her own advice and keep living for the now.
Jake waved to the waiter, motioning for their check even as he stood, tossing his napkin on the table.
"We can take the rest of the food to go?" His voice was gritty and low, his expression so tense he didn't even look like the same person who had been grinning at her a few seconds before.
Which, by Sadie Leighton's standards, meant she should have a contingent plan B., and a Hail
Mary plan C., just in case. Because the odds of this working out? Were slim to none.
Jake Callahan was obsessed with revenge and she was probably nothing more than a novel distraction for him. What if tomorrow was a failure? He’d be back on the warpath and probably even blame her for it. And still...
"My place or yours?"
Chapter Eleven
Game time.
As Jake pulled up to the estate, he could hear Sadie muttering softly to herself, but couldn’t quite make out what she was saying. “You good?”
Sadie sucked in a breath and blew it out in a rush, looking toward him with a stiff nod. "Yes. Just getting into character. Let's get it done."
She'd donned her Countess accent, and her whole demeanor seemed to change on a dime. Instead of looking like a ballerina, she lifted her chin a little higher, giving the impression that she was peering down from her new, loftier position. She kicked one foot out in front of her, letting it part the slit in her already short skirt to bare her leg all the way up her creamy thigh.
After their dinner out a few nights before, they’d gone back to his house and hadn’t left since. They’d had sex morning, noon and night, and he still couldn’t take his eyes off her or stop the bolt of lust that shot through him at the sight.
He held out an arm to her and she slipped her hand in to curl around his bicep, giving it a little squeeze.
"Very nice, love," she purred.
He barked out a laugh. "Maybe when we're done here we can leave the skirt and the accent and-"
She gasped in mock indignance and swatted him with her free hand. "Eez zat how you speak to a Countess?"
He vowed then and there that, once they got through tonight, he would show her exactly how he would speak to a Countess. Blood rushed to his groin when he thought of how her body reacted to dirty talk.
"Come on, we're going to be late," she murmured, her voice suddenly husky.
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