Breathless

by Nancy Warren

  At last they managed to stagger to the bed where, to his eternal delight, she tipped herself backward and fell onto the sheets. She didn’t bother to burrow under the covers, as most women who’d shared this bed with him had been wont to do. Instead she lay sprawled and quivering, the scent of her arousal mixing with the fresh-laundry smell of clean linen.

  She’d prepared candles and was obviously freshly showered. The thought she’d put into seducing him did the job as much as the preparations she’d intended for that purpose.

  “My bed has never looked so good,” he murmured, staring down at her.

  “It’s going to feel good if you ever get in it,” she panted.

  Good. His plan was to get her sounding like a marathon runner sprinting for the finish line. He had a quick image of her usual enthusiastic response to climax and revised his simile. His plan was to get her sounding like a banshee marathoner crossing the finish line, panting and screaming at the same time.

  And from the way her hips were twitching restlessly, the panting and screaming weren’t all that far off. And he couldn’t wait.

  Leaning over her, resting his weight on his knees, he pushed her already parted legs farther apart and pressed his lips to the silky smooth length of each inner thigh.

  She threw an arm over her mouth and he knew she was getting ready to bite her own wrist to muffle her cries of release. She reminded him of somebody having an operation with no anesthesia, the way they’d bite on a strip of leather.

  He loved her with his mouth, taking her up, so she hovered at the peak, then reaching up to pull her wrist out of her mouth. He loved her lusty cries of release, and he wanted to hear them echoing around his bedroom.

  She didn’t disappoint him, yelling lustily as he pushed her over the edge with his tongue.

  She hadn’t even stopped crying out and she was grabbing for him urgently, her whole body pantomiming that she wanted him inside her. He couldn’t wait to comply, almost diving on top of her in his haste. He buried himself deep and hard inside her and this time they dove over the edge together.

  SHE’D LEFT ELLSWORTH’S files for last.

  She felt ridiculous and disloyal to the man even studying his files, but as much as anything, it kept her mind occupied. She didn’t want to think about the horrible fact that she’d finally fallen in love, and her lover didn’t return the sentiment.

  When she and Blake had made love in his bed, when she’d slept beside him all night and when he’d woken her this morning with his tongue, it had felt like he loved her.

  Maybe, in time, she could convince him. If there was time, clamored a nagging voice inside her head.

  Blake wasn’t safe.

  She had no idea where the feeling was coming from. She’d never been one for visions or hunches. She was a practical woman.

  She’d warned Blake. More she couldn’t do. Besides, her feeling wasn’t based on fact or information of any kind, but on pure, blind gut intuition.

  The worst of it was he wouldn’t tell her where the meeting would be held, and when she’d asked to go along he’d outright laughed. Jerk.

  She was starting to get a headache from nerves and staring at the computer screen too long. No wonder Ellsworth won awards. Here was a wire from a company in London for five million dollars. Another from a New York firm for two million. Both were numbered companies. Many of his high net worth clients operated numbered companies, but, if she were to be as diligent as Blake, she ought to at least check out a couple.

  She put a trace on the company that had wired the five million, hoping she’d never have to explain to Ellsworth that she’d done it. And why.

  A couple of hours later, she was feeling a bit unnerved. The London company didn’t appear to exist. Hmm. She tried the New York firm this time. Again, nothing.

  Ellsworth?

  She stared at the evidence in front of her of two companies that didn’t seem to exist. It simply didn’t make sense. But she couldn’t pretend there wasn’t something odd about two companies disappearing off the face of the earth after wiring her colleague huge sums of money. She tapped her fingernails on her desktop then jerked to her feet. Blake needed to know what she’d found.

  But when she got to his office, there was no one there. She checked her watch. Damn it, almost five. He’d be getting ready for the meeting.

  A thought so awful hit her that she slumped into Blake’s chair.

  What if Ellsworth was the one buying the new identity? As crazy as it sounded, it made a weird kind of sense. Once Phil had tried to blackmail him, everything had changed. Now, a man had been murdered, Sophie’d almost been killed and he must realize his options were limited. If he was getting large bribes to take drug money, then he could afford a new identity.

  And if he got to that meeting and saw Blake there, then all her intuition would be proven correct.

  Blake would be in terrible danger.

  She picked up his office phone with unsteady hands and punched in his cell phone. Damn it, he’d turned it off. She got voice mail. “Blake. I think I’ve found something. Please, please call me as soon as you can. It’s really important.”

  With rising panic, she tried to marshall her wits. How else could she get hold of Blake? Of course, John. She’d get out of the bank and call him.

  Rising jerkily, she headed out of the cubicle and bumped straight into Ellsworth.

  She squeaked with alarm and took a step back.

  He smiled at her, his usual friendly smile. “Did I scare you? Just looking for Blake.”

  “Oh. Blake.” She felt herself beginning to tremble, but knew she had to maintain her cool. “I was looking for him, too. I think he must have left.”

  “It wasn’t important. I’ll see him in the morning.” He looked at her closely. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” Her fingers trembled, knowing she looked anything but fine. She grabbed the first explanation for her odd behavior she could find. “Blake and I had a fight.”

  Ellsworth patted her shoulder. “Never go to bed angry, that’s how Lillian and I have remained happily married. In fact, I’m leaving early to take her for an anniversary dinner. Good night, Sophie.”

  “Good night.” She almost fainted with relief. What an idiot she’d been to suspect Ellsworth of all people. Love was making her batty. A little more digging into Ellsworth’s accounts and there would be some perfectly simple explanation for why those companies were hard to find.

  She gathered her things and left for the day.

  She said good-night to the security guard and headed down to the garage, wishing Blake’s meeting was over. Wishing this whole awful mess was over.

  Halfway to her car, she heard a cheery, “Ah, Sophie. I’m glad I caught you.”

  Ellsworth. Maybe she was foolish and rude, but her instinct was to run. “Can’t stop, I’m late,” she called back, and broke into a run.

  He ran after her.

  No. No! Her mind yelled as she raced for her car. She had the keys out, pushed the button to automatically unlock her doors, when she was grabbed by a second man.

  She struggled and fought, but he was two hundred pounds of solid muscle in a dark suit. By this time, Ellsworth had arrived, flushed and panting. He opened the door to a dark sedan parked only a few spaces away from her car—that must be where the other man had been hidden.

  There was a gun in his hand. And it was pointing at her.

  Muscle man shoved her in the back seat then got into the driver’s seat while Ellsworth slid in beside her.

  A million thoughts jumbled through her brain, most as trite as, you’ll never get away with it. But the one that emerged uppermost, that she said aloud, was, “Why?” She gestured helplessly to his expensive suit and briefcase.

  He looked genuinely sad. “I’m so sorry, Sophie. I never meant for anything like this to happen.” He looked as though he might cry. “I’ve got a gambling problem. I got in debt to some people.” He motioned with his head toward the driver. “They
let me pay off my debt by accepting investment money without asking questions.”

  “But that was drug money, Ellsworth. You must have known that.”

  “I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to know. I planned to stop, of course, but once I’d started, they didn’t make it easy for me to stop. I not only made my commissions, but I always had money on my tab to gamble with. Always. Then, somehow, Phil found out.” He squeezed his eyes shut.

  “And you had him killed.” Her throat felt like it was full of sawdust.

  “I didn’t know what to do. I had to tell them he was blackmailing me. I thought they’d simply warn him off. How could I know they’d…”

  She refused to let him turn away from the truth. “Kill him? And what do you think they’ll do to me?”

  His eyes did look misty now. He was sorry she was going to die, she could tell. But behind his sadness, she knew he was a weak man who wouldn’t stop her death. She was on her own.

  “Why are you doing this, Ellsworth? I thought we were friends.”

  “You never should have got involved.”

  “What are you talking about?” It was awfully late, but finally she was getting the answers to the questions that had plagued her.

  “Phil told my friends—” once more he gestured to the driver “—that he had an accomplice, that he wasn’t working alone. I’m not sure they believed him at the time, but they told me to keep my eyes open. Next morning, you drove to Phil’s apartment.”

  Her jaw dropped. “But, I only went there to see if he was all right. He was late for work…” She realized how absurd that sounded and petered off.

  Ellsworth said, “How often do you visit employees’ homes when they’re late?”

  She said nothing. Explaining that she’d overheard the blackmail threat would do her no good.

  “My friends don’t like coincidence. But I told them I trusted you. I thought I could just watch you for a few weeks and see if anything happened. I never thought they’d try and kill you, too. I tried to get you to stay away from work for a few days. Remember?”

  She nodded. She also remembered how sick and shaken he’d been after both attempts on her life.

  She tried to look more scared than she really was so he’d be lulled into complacency and she could surprise him when it came time to escape. But the truth was she’d never been this scared in her life and doubted she could look more scared if she tried.

  “Now, you’re…involved with Phil’s replacement. I had to assume you were still planning to blackmail me.”

  “Ellsworth, how could you believe I would blackmail you? I thought we were friends?” She almost giggled at her own inanity. Friends or not, he was willing to let her be murdered. At least it didn’t seem to have occurred to Ellsworth or his “friends” that Phil’s replacement was an undercover cop.

  The world outside seemed strangely detached as the blue car glided through thinning rush hour traffic. Couples strolled along the sidewalks, enjoying a crisp fall evening. Office workers hurried to car parks, bus stops and Skytrain stations.

  Her heart beat painfully fast as she tried to marshall her wits and think of a plan of escape.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’m buying a new passport and a new identity. This time tomorrow your friend Ellsworth will no longer exist. My friends will decide about you.”

  It was as she’d feared. Blake would be there, not knowing he’d be recognized immediately by Ellsworth.

  And if Blake saw her, he was likely to perform some foolishly heroic act, sacrificing himself to save her.

  He wouldn’t do it for love, but out of duty.

  But for her, it was love. And she wouldn’t let him get himself killed. Somehow, she had to get away from Ellsworth and the sinister, silent driver on her own, try to get hold of him somehow and warn him.

  Ellsworth had laid the gun on his lap, its muzzle facing her like a staring eye. Every time they hit a bump in the road she braced herself.

  “What about all the clients and employees who trusted you?”

  “The world is full of victims.”

  “You think running away to some…some primitive island in the middle of nowhere, some tax haven for criminals is strong? I call it cowardly.”

  His face twisted, and she saw him glance at the driver, as though to see his reaction to her taunt.

  They’d entered Chinatown now. The signs in the windows were bilingual—fish markets, silk shops, Chinese herbalists. And everywhere, the restaurants. Normally she loved this area. Dim sum on a weekend, wandering the markets buying fresh vegetables and spices to try a new recipe.

  If she could get that gun away from Ellsworth and make the driver stop the car, there was help out there among the tourists, the businesspeople, the shopkeepers.

  Ellsworth knew about her panic attacks, and would have no trouble believing she was having one now—she was close enough to the edge, she’d believe it herself. She started with a theatrical wheeze, then began noisily dragging in air and put a hand to her chest.

  “Are you all right?”

  She shook her head. “Can’t breathe.” She dragged in another noisy breath. “Paper bag.”

  He was still holding the gun, but in a carelessly loose grip. She dropped her head into her hands, groaning, letting him think she was really losing it, while she peered through her fingers at the gun.

  She made sobbing noises and let her shoulders shake, though she had to keep it in check, it would be all too easy to give in to real despair.

  He had her purse at his feet. She pointed to it. “Paper bag.”

  “Of course. Hang on.” He bent for her bag.

  This was her chance.

  She lunged at Ellsworth, grabbing for his weapon. Just as she reached it, his fingers tightened and they wrestled frantically. Her head was almost in his lap as they struggled, him tugging and cursing and her panting and holding on for dear life.

  She turned her head and bit his thigh, sinking her teeth into him as hard as she could.

  He uttered a strangled yelp and with another yank, she was the one holding the gun. Her chest heaving, she jerked back, spitting gabardine fibers from her tongue.

  “You bit me!” he shouted at her, his hand clasping his thigh.

  Flush with triumph, she turned her attention forward to tell the driver to let her out, only to find herself staring into the dark metal mouth of a gun that made Ellsworth’s look like a toddler’s plastic water pistol.

  “I will take your weapon, please,” the driver said with the British-accented English she’d come to associate with recent Hong Kong immigrants.

  Defeat pricked at her like tears. She handed over Ellsworth’s gun to the driver, who didn’t give it back to her former colleague, she noted, and slumped back into her corner, staring hopelessly out of the tinted window.

  Ellsworth muttered and rubbed his thigh, but she ignored him.

  Within minutes, they’d pulled into a parking lot with bumpy pavement, the odd tuft of tired grass struggling through. They pulled up close to a squat, dingy building’s back entrance and Sophie’s nerves tightened another notch.

  Was Blake here somewhere? No doubt he was inside, pretending to be a patron, but waiting for the deal his informant had told him was about to take place so he could catch the criminals red-handed.

  Except he didn’t know that Ellsworth was the one out to purchase a new identity. He’d recognize Blake immediately, putting him in terrible danger.

  The driver got out of the car and moved to open her door. Ellsworth crowded her from the other side, so she’d have no chance to escape. Even though Ellsworth had lost his gun, the other guy had two that she’d seen. And he didn’t look as if he’d bother too much about using them.

  “Make no noise,” he warned her simply.

  Her legs weren’t entirely steady she found, as she walked sandwiched between her two escorts, toward the heavy metal door spray painted with graffiti, some faded and some fresh. A quick glance round the
parking lot showed there was no point even trying to yell for help. An assortment of cars, a couple of vans and a motorcycle. Not a living soul in sight.

  The driver opened the door and held it for them to enter. Ellsworth grabbed her arm and pulled her inside.

  The interior was dim and smelled of dust, cigarette smoke and the pungent aroma of frying sesame oil. When her eyes adjusted, she found herself in a back hallway of some kind of club or restaurant. Empty crates and boxes were piled on cracked linoleum.

  As Ellsworth yanked her forward, she heard the rattle of dishes from a kitchen out of view, and the staccato chatter of the kitchen staff. She could break away and run into the kitchen, but somehow, she was certain, even if they spoke English, she wouldn’t find help from that quarter.

  They passed bathrooms and then came to a metal door. She heard voices and laughter and the clatter of dishes from the front of the restaurant, but this was obviously some kind of private room. She tried to brace herself for whatever was behind that door.

  Ellsworth’s hand tightened uncomfortably on her arm and she smelled fresh sweat coming off him. He was scared, her mind registered—at least as nervous as she.

  Their thick-set escort knocked. The door opened a crack and then wider. Ellsworth pulled her into the room and her stomach dropped.

  Ellsworth turned her until they were both facing a crowded table in the darkest corner of the room. A partially finished bottle of Johnnie Walker Red Label sat in the middle, and the individuals crowding the table made a cold shiver run over her spine.

  She suspected that even without the dragon tattoo on the bare forearms of a couple of the men, she’d have guessed these frightening-looking hoods were part of a gang.

  A movement toward the back of the table caught her eye and her eyes widened. A smoothly groomed man in a leather jacket raised his shot glass. An enormous emerald ring glinted. But the sight that had Sophie’s heart pounding in unfeigned panic was the woman sitting next to him—the woman who’d stolen her car.

  The woman Blake had tried to arrest.

  The man spoke to Ellsworth. He spoke back. But all she heard was the roar of her own blood pounding in her ears.