The Financier (Hudson Kings Book 2)

by Liz Maverick

  As Nick led her by the hand toward the bar she was already a little too familiar with, a red-and-orange-patterned dress materialized in her line of sight. An older woman who looked excessively smooth right where her crow’s feet should have been was leaning over the bar, in deep conversation with one of the bartenders about a request for a tray containing several flights of vodka shots. Her purse was on the seat of the stool next to her, but her hand kept alternating between resting on the beadwork and waving around in the air as she discussed which vodkas were to be set up in which flight, in which order.

  It seemed like a big deal to be making about shots of booze until Jane considered that she probably wasn’t organizing it for her and her female pals. It was probably a boss thing, which meant that she needed to get it right. Which meant that she was concentrating on it. Which meant that she didn’t notice when Nick literally sat on—or appeared to sit on—the woman’s evening bag as it lay there on the stool.

  His hand went to Jane’s leg, and she nearly came off her chair as he rubbed her thigh through her skirts with his hand, until she realized that he’d done it to move the fabric of her skirt, which was in the way.

  Act like he’s your boyfriend, Rothgar had requested. Jane looked down at Nick’s hand on her leg, realized she couldn’t see what the other hand was doing, and felt slightly amazed that he could steal something one-handed and then put it back. But then, she didn’t have experience doing common mercenary things, and maybe multitasking that involved stealing and—oh, my god, he was nuzzling her neck . . . multitasking involving making out and stealing data at the same time all came with the territory . . . oh, god, his mouth is so hot on my skin. He was pressing kisses up her neck and behind her ear, and it was all Jane could do not to throw her head back in wild abandon.

  “Almost done,” he whispered, his hand moving to the inside of her thigh now . . . holy shit does he even realize where his hand is? Does he realize I can feel him touching me right fucking there, and does he realize that because I’m not a woman with a thigh gap, there’s no gap, and he’s, like, one digit away from fingering me? DOES HE REALIZE I WANT HIM TO?

  Jane nearly passed out from the desire. She didn’t notice Codename: Flame was said and done, because she was on fire herself. Nick pulled away slightly, and cool air whisked across her décolletage. He didn’t say a word. He just looked at her, and Jane knew what he saw. That she’d lost her cool. That her eyes couldn’t lie and neither could her swollen mouth where she’d bitten down hard as his touch roamed across her body.

  “Excuse me,” said a thick female Russian voice. “I believe you are sitting on my bag.”

  Nick didn’t quite turn to give her a full view of his face when he said, “Sorry,” and lifted his ass off Flame’s clutch with what Jane considered totally believable, if disinterested, surprise. And then he went back to Project Insanity, which involved seductively biting Jane’s earlobe with those perfect teeth of his. As a bolt of pure desire moved along Jane’s spine, she opened her eyes and gasped.

  And saw an enormous man with Slavic good looks and a little too much shadow on his jaw for a fancy party walking toward them with an intense expression on his face.

  Sokolov, Jane thought, suddenly gripping Nick’s arms tightly. Oh, god, is that Nick’s “Sokolov”?

  Nick turned to see what caused Jane to tense in his arms and found Maksim right behind him. The Russian came in for an uncharacteristic man hug and whispered, “What the hell are you doing here?” before pulling away.

  “I could say the same thing,” Nick said.

  “At least I’m Russian.”

  “That’s not always an asset, comrade,” Nick said.

  “It generally is at an event sponsored by the Russian consulate.” But Maksim frowned, probably because he knew what Nick said was true. Nick didn’t know if Maksim knew anything about the Hudson Kings sleeper-agent missions, but he guessed that he did, and he guessed that he had to stay pretty far away from any of that stuff to keep his neutrality.

  Having drinks with Missy seemed like an odd thing to do under such circumstances, but Missy had an uncanny ability to walk thin lines. Unless, of course, he was working for the Russian government and knew all about it. But Nick didn’t think so. Not an easy pool of water to tread.

  “I’ve noticed that you’re still not returning my calls,” Nick said with a grin. “I thought we had an understanding. I’m beginning to think you don’t want to sleep with me anymore.”

  “Why would you?” Maksim asked, grinning back—at Jane.

  “This is my date. Jane.”

  Maksim told her it was his pleasure, in Russian.

  Jane smiled and said, “Likewise.”

  Both men looked at her in surprise.

  Jane laughed. “Ally made me practice introductions. So, I know what you said, but I forgot what to say back.”

  Maksim smiled back at Jane, which made Nick want him to move along already. He turned to the Russian. “Now that you’re here, I gotta ask you. Do you have anything? Anything that might, say, help you get paid for the work you did?”

  Maksim got a little close again and this time said quietly, “It’s heating up for you.” To Jane he said, “It was a pleasure to meet you.” He gave Nick a somewhat sarcastic smile and added, “We should double-date sometime.”

  Nick rolled his eyes, and Maksim turned on his heels.

  “Do you trust him?” Jane asked, when he was out of range.

  “More and more,” Nick said.

  “Maybe he’s a good actor,” Jane said, watching Maks fade into the crowd. “Although he’s not pretending to be totally clueless about everything. That’s always such a giveaway.”

  A somewhat cryptic comment from a con man’s daughter that got Nick really thinking as he watched Law enter the room with Romeo and head to the dance floor. Nick could tell it was a callout, so he asked Jane to dance, and when she obligingly said yes, they joined the action there. It took an entire song to make their way organically toward the other two operatives, and when they did, Romeo orchestrated a collision, and everybody acted surprised and introduced themselves.

  Krista Lawrence had cleaned up beautifully since Nick’d last seen her with one fist in his face. When her job required that she table being a pissed-off, badass operative, her deceptively fragile-looking beauty shone bright. The white of her evening gown against her darker skin was accessorized by a smattering of diamonds and accompanied by straightened black hair gelled into a delicate design around the hairline.

  Romeo communicated, without so many words, that he’d only completed one of his targets. Nick turned Jane in an elegant circle, and they both got a view of Codename: Beehive—the young blonde assistant in yellow, who was probably going to lose her job—drunk, being supported by a friend, and heading to the restroom.

  Jane looked straight at Law, said, “Hi, I’m Jane. And I’ve got to pee,” and immediately took off for that same restroom.

  “Jane!” Nick barked in the second before he realized he did not want to yell after her and cause a scene.

  “She’s got the right idea,” Law said. She broke away from Romeo, who was trying not to make it obvious that he was holding Nick back, and ran to whisper something in Jane’s ear.

  Jane smiled, and when Law came back, all she said was, “Let’s go get another drink.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Jane followed Beehive’s path to the ladies’ room. It was empty save for the young assistant and her pal, and there was a good reason why: the girl was retching into the toilet, with single-minded dedication to the job.

  “Oh, dear!” Jane exclaimed.

  The friend looked up, with an expression that said, “I didn’t sign up for this.”

  “I think there’s barf on your lovely bag,” Jane said to Beehive. “Here, pass it over. I’ll go scrub it, you poor thing.”

  The friend managed a grim smile and kicked the bag to Jane as Beehive doubled over again.

  Jane went to the sink with t
he bag and turned on the water and then looked inside. One lipstick, one key, one twenty-dollar bill . . . and one cell phone. “This is a mess. You need club soda for the satin, or it’s a goner.”

  Jane turned off the water and walked calmly out of the bathroom, weaving back through the crowd toward the Hudson Kings. She could see Nick tugging at his collar. Romeo and Law were talking to each other, Law’s hand around Romeo’s neck. They did not look like operatives of any sort.

  Nick’s gaze dropped to the evening bag in Jane’s hand. If he disapproved of her maneuver, he didn’t let it show. “This poor girl threw up on her bag. I said I’d scrub it with club soda,” she said to Law. “But I think it went through the satin.”

  Law took the bag and opened it. “Oh, gross,” she lied, pulling out the unsullied cell phone. Nick waved to the bartender, a disgusted expression on his face. He got a white napkin that must have camouflaged the dongle when he wrapped the phone in it, because all it looked like to Jane from her vantage point was that he was wiping off the phone while Law dabbed club soda on the satin. Were they downloading or not? Romeo leaned over and whispered, “Less is more. Stop watching them and pretend I just told you something very funny.”

  Jane pulled back from Romeo, wide-eyed, and burst into giggles. She slapped his broad shoulder and shook her head as if he’d told an inappropriate joke.

  “I did the best I could,” Law said, holding up the bag, now marred by a giant water stain.

  “I’ll give it back to her,” Jane said. She took the bag, noting that the look on Nick’s face was still blank, and backtracked to the lady’s room.

  The girl in the yellow dress was sitting on a settee in the powder room area, looking like a melted banana. Her hair had fallen out of its updo and was covering her face, which was makeup smeared and sweaty. Jane handed the purse to her friend, who said, “Oh, thank god, we can go now,” and started the process of getting Beehive to stand up.

  A swell of commiseration rolled through Jane. “We’ve all been there, honey. Best of luck. Oh, and I did the best I could with your purse. I think the barf is gone.” She gave the girl’s friend a sympathetic look and left.

  That look of nothingness was plastered on Nick’s face during Jane’s entire journey back to the bar, and by the time she reached him, she’d figured out exactly what it meant. He was pissed.

  “Well, it was nice to see you again, man,” Romeo said to Nick, slapping him on the back.

  Nick stared back at him blankly for a minute and then shook hands and said, “Talk soon.” To Law, he said, “I look forward to seeing you again.”

  She gave him a bright smile and then bussed his cheeks, saying quietly but not so low that Jane couldn’t hear, “Sorry about that sucker punch, Nick. I was in a really bad mood, and you deserved it.”

  CHAPTER 27

  With Romeo and Law gone and the mission in the “Done” column, every bit of Nick’s attention focused on Jane. Nick took Jane’s arm and headed for the nearby alcove.

  If he looked and sounded a little bit like he was in shock, it was probably because he was. “You just stole that for me. You crossed a line from bystander to player, and you don’t even know what it is. Whether it’s good or bad. Don’t you have a problem with that?”

  “No, I don’t have a problem with that,” Jane said. “You organized the entire mission or whatever you call it to do it, so how bad can it be?”

  “Sometimes it’s not that good, Jane,” Nick said furiously.

  “Well, I didn’t know that.” She lowered her voice. “Maybe keep your voice down.”

  “Then why did you do it?”

  “I can’t believe I’m getting a lecture in morality from a mercenary,” she hissed.

  “That’s not what this is. I just want to know why you did it,” Nick said. “Did you do it for shits and giggles? Did you do it—”

  “I did it because I believe in you. You needed it. There were three things to get. You had two. She was in the girl’s bathroom, possibly leaving the premises. I’m a girl. You needed it, and I got it for you. That’s all.”

  She said it so matter-of-factly. Without the weight of trying to persuade him to do anything or say anything or be anything. She didn’t want anything or expect anything. She was just . . .

  “Jane,” he said hoarsely, his fury gone, replaced by something far, far more intense. He cradled her face in his hands, trying to remember when he’d ever felt like this about anybody. Desperate to touch her, desperate to hold her close to his body . . .

  “I’m going out on a limb here. I know back there things got a little racy—”

  “I loved it,” Jane blurted.

  Nick relaxed a little, but he had to get the words out. He couldn’t let the moment pass this time. “At the end of the day, your face is the last thing I want to see, and your voice is the only thing I want to hear. You’re more alive than anybody I’ve ever met, and you make me believe there’s really something worth digging in for. If I could take this goddamn mess that I’m in back, I wouldn’t.”

  Jane’s eyes widened.

  “Because without this mess,” he explained, “I would never have met you. You were supposed to be a complete nonfactor. Someone who didn’t register. That’s what I told Ally I wanted. Someone who could just move in and out of space without attracting attention. But, you, Jane, do not just move in and out of space. From the minute I met you, you took up residence in my brain, woke up my body, and touched my soul. You’re the real deal.”

  Jane’s pupils went dark, and she moistened her lips, just the very tip of her tongue swiping across that lush mouth. And that was all he could take.

  His mouth came down on hers, and his heartbeat pounded in his ears.

  Jane’s hands came up to his shoulders, pulling him toward her, breaking away only to beg for more with a breathy, “Don’t stop this time, never stop . . .”

  And then he was there again, his mouth on hers, and now trailing across her cheek and down her neck, her flesh quivering under his touch as their blood burned hot.

  He was out of control, dying for her, moving her back into an alcove, soaking up her moans—he couldn’t get enough. God, how he wanted her, wanted to be home, her legs spread on the bed, no inhibitions to stop him from making her feel the ecstasy he knew he would bring to her.

  I’m gone for you, Jane MacGregor. I am absolutely gone for you.

  God, he was so fucking hard. It was impossible to stop himself from pressing against her and driving into the vee between her legs even as he attempted to kiss her senseless. But he forced himself back before rucking her dress and ravaging her in the New York Public Library.

  Chest heaving, wide-eyed, hair falling down, Jane looked delicious and like she also wanted more. She couldn’t speak, so he filled the void.

  “I’ve got stars in my eyes, Jane,” Nick said, feeling truly joyful for the first time in so long. “Let’s go home.”

  CHAPTER 28

  Suit coat on the bedroom floor.

  Dress hiked to the waist.

  Oh, yeah, thought Jane, up against the wall with her legs wrapped around Nick and his hands in her hair.

  Nick wasted little time once he’d turned off the video cam and slammed the bedroom door behind them, in case Rochester got curious.

  The first touch of Nick’s mouth to her lips was such a fantastic shock Jane’s body jerked forward. He steadied her in his arms, pressing her back once more. He paused then, his body heaving, and pulled back just slightly, like he was taking her measure.

  Jane searched his face. She couldn’t find anything there that suggested he wanted to stop—she knew she sure as hell didn’t want to stop—grabbed him by the tie, and pulled him back to her. “Mr. Dawes, sir?” she asked in a throaty voice.

  Good call. Any hesitation on his part vanished into a cocky grin.

  His mouth was beyond greedy. He licked the side of her neck in one long stroke, long enough for her to gasp in a breath before his tongue found hers again.r />
  “Been thinking about you, this, since day one,” he muttered, when they finally broke off. And then he spun her off the wall, and she was on the bed, his body coming down on hers. Solid muscle, delicious weight, his hands molding along her curves, touching her everywhere.

  His cock pressed hard against her thigh, but he wasn’t working it; his attention was on her.

  Jane wasn’t used to this. She was used to guys playing with her tits long enough to get her hot and then unbuttoning her jeans to go straight for the kill.

  Nick wasn’t about the kill. He was about her. And the amount of happiness and pleasure that that realization dragged out from behind her cool devil-may-care exterior nearly swamped her.

  She was going to come. She was going to come just from his kiss and the feel of his cock pressing through clothes and the realization that he actually wanted her all the way down to her soul.

  “Jane, your skin . . . so soft . . . ,” Nick murmured in a daze.

  “You’re everything . . . so everything . . . Nick,” she said on a groan.

  He looked into her eyes, the movement lifting his torso and grinding his cock downward. “Tell me to stop,” he dared.

  God, he was hitting . . . just . . . the right . . . “Oh, my god,” Jane said.

  The corner of his mouth curled up. “Yeah, like that?”

  “Yeah,” she breathed more than said. “I . . . I . . .”

  Nick slowly dry fucked her, each press of his cock against the vee between her legs, just like the way he’d licked her throat: impossibly slow, with a dizzying amount of anticipation between each stroke.

  His muscles trembled from holding himself above her; the cords in his neck rippled every time his weight hit Jane’s clit, making it all the more intense. How hot that Nick was holding his own desire back just to make it good for her.