by Beth Rhodes
Surprised, Marie glanced over at Malcolm as heat rushed to her cheeks. She’d worn her hair down and had applied makeup to show off her Bălan eyes. “Thank you.”
He reached out and ran a hand through the length of her hair.
Her breath caught in her throat at the slight tug and the brush of his fingers against her shoulder and chest.
“It looks soft tonight.”
“You’re used to it being up for work.”
“Maybe.” He studied her another minute, his hand still tangled in her hair. “I wish I could figure what was going on in your mind, though. You’re up to something.”
“I—”
He shushed her with a hand on her lips. “Don’t ruin it by lying. Know that if things go south, I’ve got your back. Will you have mine?”
“Of course,” she answered, indignation washing through the frou-frou feelings he created inside of her. “You can trust me.”
He winced. “I like you, Marie. I’m even a little attracted to you on a very basic level, and would love to get you into bed. But I’m not sure trust is part of the equation.”
“Yet,” she added for him, as her heartbeat sped up. Shit. He was so straightforward. She should appreciate him, as it seemed half the men she’d dated over the years tiptoed around what they really wanted. Her uncle told her it was because she was petite and somehow vulnerable, which she assumed meant they thought she was weak. Phooey. She couldn’t help her size, and she was far from weak.
“You can trust me to watch your back. I would never let anything happen to you.” She rested her hand on his chest, right where she knew his scar cut across his muscle.
He placed his hand across hers and leaned in, constantly watching her with those intelligent eyes as if deciding what to do next. So she stood on her tiptoes and touched his lips with hers. His hold tightened, and he took her kiss into that wonderful nibble stage, as if tasting her and testing her. She gave back this time, enjoying the rush of a first kiss.
When he broke away, they were both breathing deeply.
“I promise,” she said, the quiet of her voice circling them.
He nodded. “Okay. Let’s go meet Dimitru Douchebag.”
“Ha. Yeah. Totally.”
***
The limousine took them to the outskirts of town and down a country road toward the Dimitru estates.
“I’m not surprised,” Marie said, her gaze watching the passing scenery. “Guys like this always want to show off.”
“True.” When Marie pulled out her phone, Malcolm did the same, contacting Hawk to give him an update. “I don’t know exactly what we’re walking into,” he said. “The attack on the sidewalk seemed too planned. The guy wasn’t some druggie or homeless. He was scared, but he had sharp eyes.”
“You say anything to Marie about this?”
Malcolm quashed his guilt. “I didn’t confide my feelings on this topic, but I got a bad feeling, Hawk. Like there’s something going on I don’t know about.”
“You do what’s necessary to protect her, Malcolm. She’s familiar with the area.”
“I know. I know. But…” He hesitated. Hawk trusted Marie. Malcolm was learning to trust her. “I’ll keep an eye out for her.”
The car had gone quiet, and before Hawk could answer, Malcolm said, “Look, if anything comes up, I’ll call again. Hopefully we’ll be done before dinner tomorrow. I’ll be on my way back across the country.”
“Take care of yourself, Malcolm.”
“Will do.” He hung up and slipped his phone into the cargo pocket on his pants. He hadn’t gone out of his way to dress up. This was business, and his business was checking security not humoring idiot clients.
The limo pulled through a set of gates and drove up to the main house. Several outbuildings surrounded it. Made of stone, the house was set amidst the fall foliage of surrounding oaks and sequoias. Malcolm saw issues of security in the placement of the home, but he imagined the structure had probably been there for decades. Still, if it was his place, he’d probably clear some of the thicker stands of trees for visual purposes.
“Kind of creepy, isn’t it?” Marie was looking up and out the window. “But in a good way, like a cemetery can be fun to walk through.”
“Looks like there might be a dungeon in there, and I do not want to end up in it.” When the car stopped, he opened the door and held out his hand. “So be good.”
She fake sighed, making him smile. “Too bad. I could definitely have fun in here.”
When they turned to the house, a tall man with dark, assessing eyes stood at the door. His salt-and-pepper hair, a tad longer than expected, complemented the expensive Italian suit, gray with a red tie pinned down. A flower was stuck in the lapel. Black pointed shoes finished the look.
Vladimir Dimitru looked like his profile picture—waxy, pompous, and uptight.
Malcolm smiled and stepped forward. “Mr. Dimitru. It’s good to finally meet you. I’m Malcolm Daniels.”
The man barely cracked a smile and nodded.
Taking a half step back as Marie ascended the final step, Malcolm introduced her: “Marie Feur, my associate.”
A light of interest flared in Dimitru’s eyes and his remote smile warmed, cinching Malcolm’s complete dislike of the fellow. Dimitru leaned forward, took her offered hand, and bent over it. Tool. “I’m honored to share my home with such beauty.” He studied her too long. “You have Romanian blood.”
Marie froze for a split second. Her entire demeanor screamed “tense with anticipation.”
“Can’t deny the looks,” she said, laughing nonchalantly, but she didn’t fool Malcolm. “Born right here in the States, though. Not far from here, actually.”
“What a coincidence.”
She shrugged, and Malcolm was getting the feeling it meant more than she was letting on. As if the shrug was hiding her real feelings and she did it to seem blasé, to convey a message of devil-may-care. He wasn’t sure he liked the deception. It spoke of duplicity and surprises that would pop up at any time…like the attack yesterday. Shit.
“Come in. I’ve been looking forward to this visit. We will relax tonight. It is a good way to start. Business is for tomorrow.” Dimitru showed them through the entranceway, a large room with six doors leading off it, doors like the front door—large, heavy, wooden. The modern amenities didn’t detract from the stone castle feel of the home, but they were there in the wrought iron sconces and in the small surveillance cameras in each corner.
Malcolm hadn’t installed the system, but recognized it and knew somewhere in the structure was a room filled with screens and video and audio feeds. And probably the staff to work it, which should make him feel safer, but it didn’t. “This is impressive. How long have you owned your home here, sir?”
“Please, call me Vladimir.” Dimitru waved them through the open doorway, taking them down a hall toward the back of the house. The hardwood ceiling above them was lighter grained—hickory or oak, letting light spread through the corridor. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to show you my collection before we dine. Cook says we’ve got about forty minutes.”
He stopped and turned to them. “I guess you could say you helped complete this venture of mine last year.” A true smile showed on his face—the first since they’d reached the front door. “It’s the largest private collection of Romanian artifacts in the United States today.”
Marie tensed next to him, like a caged cat about to be let free.
Dimitru accessed the room through the keypad next to the door.
Malcolm seemed to be synced to Marie’s every nuance. She was curious. She wanted to see. She wanted in almost as much as Dimitru wanted them in.
Malcolm put an arm over her shoulder and pulled her into his side. It was a silent warning to cool her jets. He even turned his head and breathed two words into her ear: “Ease up.”
Like magic, she slowed her breathing and relaxed against him, then pulled away. Dimitru finished the string of verifications, including
the biometric entry using his thumbprint, and the door swung open. When he turned to them, Marie was standing on her own, her face only slightly flushed.
“Nice system you’ve got.” Malcolm eyed the hardware with professional interest. “Who installed it?”
“Small company out of California. Sacramento. Like yourselves, they are mostly ex-military.”
Former military. Retired military. Veteran, Malcolm said in his head. Prick. “You didn’t stay with them?”
“They were incompetent.”
“Sorry to hear that.” With the military community being so close, and the security industry even smaller, Malcolm had a good idea who was in the Sacramento area. And incompetent wasn’t the word he would use for Zack Benson.
Another phone call to make later.
Dimitru flipped a switch, and the cavernous room glowed from the floor up.
Marie sucked in a breath.
Hidden lights accentuated several different podiums, all draped in velvet…and gold.
The room wasn’t empty, either. Guards stood off to the sides. Malcolm imagined that when no one was in here, the guards also disappeared.
Marie left his side to view some of the pieces more closely. He kept one eye on her, one on the man in charge. “This is impressive. Romania must be pleased to have this collection within reach. Do you take them back often?”
“Every two years. And if I’m lucky, I acquire a piece or two to come back with. Like this past year, when I travelled home with the armband.” He waved Malcolm into the back corner, where the ornate gold band rested against heavy burgundy tapestry. “The tapestry itself is over two hundred years old.”
Marie came up to the display, finished with her singular wanderings, and gripped his arm at the sight. “It’s gorgeous.”
Malcolm heard the reserve in her voice, heard the breathless anticipation, and he almost sighed.
“Isn’t it?” Dimitru smiled knowingly. “The women do love this piece. Would you like to try it on?”
“Me?” The excitement ringing through her one word had every red flag waving in Malcolm’s mind. This was it. This was why she was here. Something about this piece, the gold they’d been safeguarding when she just happened to pop up on their radar. Coincidence? No.
Dimitru picked up the antique. “It has a story, of course, like most of the items in this room.”
He handed it off to Marie, who didn’t seem to be breathing anymore. Malcolm watched her face, watched her shaking hands as she slipped her arm through the circular band of gold. It wound around her arm three times and rested against her tanned skin. Rested wasn’t the right word, though.
The damn thing came alive against her skin.
Dimitru looked sharply into Marie’s face. “Extraordinary. You—”
She quickly removed the bracelet. “It’s nice.”
“Nice.” Dimitru laughed, his gaze remaining on her face as if he was putting pieces of an intricate puzzle together. “My dear, this one holds stories of old that would make kings weep. It holds the power of unity, of passion—of immortality. It—” He shook his head. “It’s the most beautiful piece I have in this collection.”
“There are many stories from the old country,” Marie said as she handed the bracelet back to Dimitru. “I’ve heard most of them, and they are—in a word—myth. Fun for the old folks to tell and keep young children spellbound, but no more.”
Malcolm couldn’t help staring at her, though. He really hoped dinner didn’t last too long, because it was time for a heart-to-heart with Marie.
She might not believe in magic or old myths, but he’d felt something when she put the amulet on her arm.
Like hell if he wasn’t going to get to the bottom of exactly what her deal was with Hawk Elite Security.
And Vladimir Dimitru.
Chapter Six
Dinner was as extravagant as Marie expected. A three-course meal and then dessert with fare from the old country. Talk ranged from sports to traditions to business. She tried to keep her mind in the game. But everything about being at this house scattered her common sense, her practical side.
Emotions welled inside her, made her question her ability to do what she’d come to do.
Reacquire the armband.
Marie hadn’t been able to stop the pounding in her heart, the buzzing in her ears. Being in the Dimitru home made her nervous. The worst thing was that Malcolm seemed to know everything she was thinking. How could she possibly keep secrets from him when he was so tuned in to her?
He was keeping her balanced and seemed to have a direct line of communication to the emotions racing through her. Without him there, she probably would have lost her mind within seconds of coming face to face with the thieving bastard.
Acquired, he’d said.
Stolen, she’d corrected silently, from her family.
Her heart had stopped when she’d put on the armband. She’d worn the thing as a kid, playing in Uncle Bert’s old box in the attic. She never believed the stories about it holding power. They’d been fairy tales, like dragons and pots of gold.
She rubbed at her arm, and as she did so, Malcolm rested a hand on her shoulder.
With a smile at him, she made her way down the hall to the front entry.
“Our plan is to get a car tomorrow,” Malcolm told Dimitru, surprising her. “We’ll come out in the morning, check the systems the other company put in. We can recommend any changes at that time. And we should be out of your hair before noon. Really, you have a good, solid system in place. We should be able to continue the association with maintenance checks through the computers and phone calls.”
“Let’s talk more tomorrow,” Dimitru said, almost a non-answer, as if he didn’t quite agree, as if he didn’t trust the job would work out that way. Perhaps he’d been burned by the previous security company.
Malcolm merely smiled and held out a hand.
Marie followed suit, letting the little shiver run through her when Dimitru took her hand and kissed it. “See you tomorrow,” she said.
“Looking forward to it,” he replied as a car drove around and stopped to pick them up.
She couldn’t get in the limo fast enough. With a tension that wouldn’t quit, her mind raced with plans for how to get her armband back for Uncle Bert, and with the confusion of needing Malcolm so strongly versus being completely creeped out by Dimitru’s lascivious glances all evening.
This was supposed to have been easy.
Except she’d grown a conscience.
And she’d grown feelings.
Not to mention a fair measure of doubt. Her best bet was to snatch the damn thing when they were inside tomorrow.
Stick to the plan? Or let the whole thing go? Was it worth it, after all, to go after the armband?
Marie clutched her clammy hands in her skirt as she settled back in the seat and watched the scenery pass. But Malcolm’s silence drove her to talk.
“So?” she asked, breaking the silence, needing something to distract her from the ache of betrayal—her own. A betrayal enough to cut her off from everything she’d learned to love. She didn’t want to do it.
“So,” he began, and then stopped. He pulled her close, very close, thigh to thigh, arm over her shoulder, and turned his head. His words brushed her hair as he whispered against her ear and sent her heart pounding. “That wasn’t fun at all, and I swear if our friend Dimitru licks you with his eyes one more time, I’m going to fucking pluck his eyeballs out.”
“You noticed.”
“Fucking hard not to.”
Her stomach twisted a little as she rested a hand on his thigh. She wasn’t sure what made her want to comfort him, the instinct not basic at all for her.
“I’m sorry,” he responded, running a hand through his hair and pulling the hair-tie from the bun at the base of his neck. Even though he leaned back, he kept his voice low. “Dimitru is a shithead. And we’re wasting our time out here.”
“I’m sorry.”
Sitting back, Malcolm eyed her. “What for?” Skepticism rang clear through those two words.
“For how crappy this trip has been. For the cruddy client.” She pursed her lips and caught his direct gaze. “For being so beautiful no one can resist me.” She raised a brow, knowing he would laugh, knowing it was hardly true. Oh, she was beautiful. That was the Feur bloodline met with her mother’s Bălan ancestry. She truly had gotten the best of her parents. But she was not irresistible; she knew.
Looks only got a person so far.
She had no college degrees. Sleeping around wasn’t her thing, and she’d quickly found out that made her an oddity. She argued too much. And, deep inside, she had a thief’s blood.
Maybe guys could sense it.
“I think we need to call Hawk.”
“We should wait.” God, she didn’t need another set of eyes on her right now.
“Why?”
“Technically, there’s nothing to report,” she answered, really meaning it. “The attack could have been random. What’s to report, Malcolm? We don’t like the man? Hawk already knows.”
Malcolm looked at her. “You’re hiding something from me.”
“I’m—” Protecting you. Protecting Hawk Elite. She shrugged. “Let’s just get this job over with, okay? So I can go visit my uncle.”
Uncle Bert kept her existence under the radar. They didn’t share a last name. The armband came through her mother’s family. Bălan. It was the pride and her Romanian blood that would get her in trouble. She really needed to be more careful. And maybe getting this job over with was the best way.
She rested her back against the seat. Maybe she didn’t need to steal it back at all, but the thought made her brain scream no. “I’m not hiding anything.”
Disappointment flashed in Malcolm’s eyes.
How could she tell him the truth? He was never going to let her steal the armband they were there to secure. What she really needed to do was go in without him. Cut ties.
And leave.
The limousine slowed to a stop in front of the hotel.
Malcolm got out, taking in their full three-sixty before holding his hand out to her through the open door. She took it, feeling the warmth and special zing reach her heart.
