She reached out to drag him farther into the more private area of the house, but the man was an immovable object, unless he wanted to be moved.
“I’ve been spotted.” She tried to act composed, but words rushed out in panicked whimpers. “We need to leave. Now.”
Was Brian behind them?
“We need to go. Please,” she begged.
Henry draped his long trench coat over her, shrouding the red gown in black. He then arranged her wrap over her shoulders and her hair, making her into a mere shadow of the vibrant blonde in the red gown. “Shhh. I’m here. I’ll take care of you.”
He held her so tightly she couldn’t increase her speed to anything faster than a stroll. The side door was the closest exit. Henry maneuvered her through the door and into the field-turned-parking lot, where millions of dollars’ worth of automobiles stood in soggy grass and mud.
“Who is he?” he asked, his mouth touching her ear as though propositioning her for a night of sensual activities.
“I can’t tell you.”
His arm never left her waist, a guide, a protector. The easy manner with which he escorted her between cars tempered her urge to run as fast as she could away from Luc’s malevolent employees.
“Where’s Simon?” She relaxed a fraction of a shiver at the sight of Simon’s Range Rover.
“He’s meeting with a colleague. He’ll find his own way back to the hotel.”
Instead of opening the door, he spun her so her back leaned against the SUV, and then he kissed her. Deep, wet, hungry, and soul crushing. What the hell was he doing?
They needed to leave as quickly as possible. She tried to lift her head, but he murmured through volcanic kisses to relax. Relax? Her muscles didn’t loosen a bit. She’d relax when they left Scotland and Luc’s men behind. Hundreds of miles behind. Henry’s hands brushed through her hair, and his mouth remained over hers, refusing to let anything separate them. It almost seemed as though he was swallowing her entire being, covering her physically and emotionally so his body and his infectious cool dominated the scene.
Footsteps passed behind them, and his intentions became clear. He was shielding her from everyone’s view. If anyone walked by, they would see a couple unrushed and intimate. Since Alex had never made her sex life a public spectacle, no one would assume she’d be making out with a man in the parking lot. They’d be correct in believing she wanted to jump in her car and race away, tires skidding and dirt flying. That wouldn’t happen with Henry around. Everything slowed around them, and she began to trust his instincts. She kissed him back. The beating of her heart still stammered with intensity, but this new intensity had more to do with Henry than Brian.
She could hear people leaving the exhibition and driving away. He continued to assault her lips with kisses that at any other moment would melt all her defenses. Her body sagged forward into Henry’s strong arms. She left her hands by her sides, and allowed him to engulf her presence until she disappeared into him and became a person no one would notice except the man overwhelming her.
After what felt like an hour or two of this sustained concealment, his lips stopped moving, but he remained touching her, his breath coming in and out in heavy waves.
“Shhh. Stay quiet for another moment.” He rested his forehead against the top of her head. His body stilled until his breathing became normal. Almost undetectable. “Ready to go?’
She couldn’t speak, so she just nodded her head and then slid into the SUV.
Henry and Alex didn’t speak on the way to the hotel. What could she say to him? Thanks for hiding me from Brian and, by the way, your kisses have me wanting you in every possible way. Instead, she rested her hand on his thigh. He glanced over at her, but wasn’t smiling. There was nothing amorous in his expression at all.
Terrific. Not only had Brian recognized her, and a stolen Picasso was sitting in the back of their Range Rover, but the man she now craved beyond rational logic stared ahead at the road, not speaking to her. She’d escaped a relationship with Luc to avoid being involved with stolen art, and here she was wanting a relationship with the handsome buyer of a missing masterpiece.
When Henry threw the keys to the hotel valet and escorted her inside, he remained a respectful distance in case they had an audience. Still covered up by his coat and her scarf, she plastered her face with bored resignation and avoided any contact with him as well.
As soon as the door to the suite closed, Henry grasped her by the shoulders and his boredom switched to anger. “Who was following you?”
She struggled out of his grasp. “It was most likely a misunderstanding. A man who thought I was someone else.”
“Bullshit. Something happened to change you from a relaxed, sophisticated woman to a person whose hands could not stop shaking in the car.”
“I’ve been poked, groped, manhandled, propositioned, and leered at tonight. I’m sorry I’m not more enthusiastic about being treated with less respect than an Italian sports car.” She allowed the coat and scarf to drift to the floor, leaving her vulnerable in an evening gown that left no doubt she wore nothing underneath. Henry’s glances earlier in the evening made her feel wanted; now he seemed immune to her appearance.
“Tell me what happened.” Henry remained face-to-face with her. He didn’t seem to be buying her explanation.
If she told him the truth, he’d try to locate Luc and end up like Matt. She wouldn’t risk his safety. “I can’t.”
He clenched his fists, but backed off, as she expected he would. As a gentleman, he’d respect her wishes, but he needed to release his tension, and huffing about seemed to work for him.
She didn’t want to argue. She wanted a warm bath and a pillow. “I’m helping you find your painting. You don’t need to know more about me.”
His voice deepened, and he spoke with a formidable tone. “I would never force you to reveal anything you didn’t want to, but I’m confused. You act as though you trust me, but then you keep me in the dark when something evil encroaches. You won’t tell me your name or where you’re from. Someone’s looking for you, but I don’t know whether it’s the police or the leader of a drug cartel.”
He took off his jacket and threw it on the back of a chair. The bow tie came off next, and then the cufflinks. By the time Henry had finished taking off his rich man’s uniform, he’d rolled up his shirtsleeves, unbuttoned the neck of his shirt, and tossed his shoes to the foyer.
Alex could feel his frustration and wanted to make him understand. She found a decent merlot in the bar and poured herself a glass. Henry moved to the window. His eyes faced the illuminated city on the hill behind them.
“Tell me everything,” Henry insisted, still staring out into the night.
“I can’t.”
He bristled and returned his focus from the view to Alex. “Then tell me what you can. Our partnership won’t work otherwise. I need to know if someone’s going to break down my door and take you away.”
Since that possibility had increased threefold since running into Brian, Henry should know something about her past. Without a baseline of knowledge, he wouldn’t stand a chance against Luc.
“Where do I begin?” she asked more to herself than to Henry.
He responded anyway. “As close to your identity as you can, because I’m not in the mood for either Gabe or Belinda right now.”
Perhaps she could share a blurred vision of her past. Enough to appease him without giving him the ability to hunt Luc down and get hurt. She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to frame her next set of words with precision. “My father wasn’t an easy man to live with. He demanded perfect grades, appropriate activities, and conservative dress. I failed at all three. He didn’t think I would amount to anything if I didn’t refocus my life on my schoolwork. I disagreed. He threatened to disown me when I didn’t fall in line.”
The years of fighting with her father destroyed her sense of self. Even now, she couldn’t quite forgive him for the humiliating lectures in
front of her peers and being sent to a new school when she didn’t fall in with the right sort of people.
Henry stepped closer, but Alex raised her hand to prevent him from interrupting. She needed to finish. “I disowned him before he could disown me. Europe had all the treasures a girl like me would want, so I booked a flight to Rome and disappeared. I even changed my name so no matter what I did in life, he couldn’t take the credit. I’m not proud of running away, but I was young and rebellious. And it worked out great for a while. I found my calling and lived a happy and comfortable life.”
Her voice caught, and she cleared her throat to continue. “I started in a position as a nobody at an auction house. I moved up fast, because I was good. I could see flaws no one else noticed. They paid me in cash, and I stayed in the background.”
Henry kept his eyes focused on her. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but why would an auction house trust you to make their appraisals without even a college degree?” The tone of his voice softened, and his anger seemed to be dissipating.
She took a sip of the wine, holding the glass with a trembling hand. “Instead of classes, I spent my time in high school at galleries and museums. Once I learn something, I almost never forget. With my ability to see flaws in paint and other details, I caught mistakes by some of the more established experts. They came to rely on me to inspect works before they bought or sold them.”
“Sounds like a nice life. What happened?” Henry stood over her now, every bit the English earl.
She savored her wine while deciding how much Henry should know. “I met a man I’d thought was the love of my life while doing an appraisal. I gave up everything for him. No one else had ever wanted me around. When he asked me to stay with him, I said yes. Who doesn’t say yes to her soul mate? I never told him my real identity. I would have, but things turned nasty so quickly.” She stretched her legs across the glass table. The red silk draped over the edge and rested on the floor.
Henry knelt by her side. He clasped her hands in his, a pained expression creasing his eyes. “Are you married?”
“No.” Her voice cracked as she tried to laugh at his question. “We didn’t last that long. After he discovered my desire to live more inside the law than out, he decided I was a liability. Suffice to say, he wants me eliminated, and I’m trying hard to avoid that fate.”
“Can I know your name?”
“No. My tormentor doesn’t play fair. I need to keep him away from my family and anyone else I care about. He’s already killed one man who tried to protect me. I’d rather take my own life than watch him kill the most important people to me.” Her face flushed red, and the tears came down, but she ignored them and continued to drink.
He sat next to her and removed the wineglass from her hand. Wrapping his arms around her, he embraced her misery. Her body shuddered, and sobs broke loose from the wall she’d erected around her past. Why did she tell Henry anything? He’d try to play the hero, and he’d be hurt. Somehow the thought made her tears flow faster.
Henry lifted her chin and stared at her face in the way she analyzed a painting. “Don’t ever think about taking your own life. Do you hear me? Ever.” His grip loosened, but he gritted his teeth as if holding back a harsher set of words.
She countered his anger by cradling his cheek in her hand and kissing him. His lips tasted like scotch, smoky and sweet. He kissed her back, yet left her in control. She indulged in his attention, pulling away when her body began to urge her forward to a place she still feared after Luc’s assaults. Her head rested comfortably on his shoulder, and she allowed his strong arms to support her. They remained locked together for what seemed like hours. For the first time in forever, Alex felt safe.
He brushed his lips over her ear. “I can protect you if you let me.”
“No offense, Henry, but you’re not super qualified to be rescuing me from anyone.”
The overconfident professor actually grinned. “Did I ever tell you about my stint in the Royal Navy?”
“Simon mentioned you were a medic and a potato peeler? Not too much action in those jobs.” Luc and a gun versus Henry and a frying pan.
Laughter erupted from him.
She pulled her head back and glared. “It’s not funny. I actually care about you.”
His laughter slowed, yet his eyes glinted with humor. “You care?”
“Yes. I care about you. A lot.”
He pulled her closer and kissed her again. “I care about you a lot, too. And don’t worry about me, I failed at food service and was reassigned. Let’s just say I’m more capable of watching your back than being a line cook.”
The door slammed open, and Simon rushed inside the suite. He was speaking on his cell phone and gave only a cursory glance to Alex and Henry. “I’ll be there by lunch. Bye.”
He yanked off his coat and jogged toward his bedroom. The phone went back to his ear, and he disappeared.
Henry and Alex remained huddled together on the couch. She didn’t want to leave his side, so she tucked her legs up and snuggled as close to him as possible without sitting on his lap.
Ten minutes later, Simon emerged from his room with his suitcase. He wore jeans and a white cable-knit sweater, whistling as he approached. “I have to go see Nicola. Henry, you can take the car home. I’m transporting your purchase with me for safekeeping and to keep your hands clean. I hate to strip you of your riches, Belinda, but the Cinderella jewels must be returned.”
Simon helped to remove the necklace. She handed over the earrings and thanked Simon for the loan. He disappeared out the door as quickly as he’d arrived.
“There go the glass slippers.”
Henry squeezed Alex’s shoulder. “Cinderella never needed the glass slippers, Sunshine. They were just an extravagant prop on an otherwise perfect woman.”
Chapter Sixteen
Simon flew from Edinburgh to Gatwick and stopped at SIS headquarters in Vauxhall to drop off the painting. The government would use it to fund the export of illegal weapons to groups allied with Britain, and eventually funnel it through several legitimate dealers to clear title so it could be transferred back to the rightful owner.
Around lunchtime, he went to visit Nicola at her flat in Chelsea. He’d rather be drinking a pint at the Rusty Dog Pub near Henry’s house, but she was expecting him. He strolled down the third-floor hallway and waved to an older couple who lived in the flat next to hers. Mr. and Mrs. Dempsey out for their afternoon stroll.
Leaning on Nicola’s doorframe, he rapped three times. She opened the door, her long brunette hair cascading over one shoulder. He scanned her top with the V-neck cut low enough for her silicone breasts to escape if they felt so inclined. Jeans tight enough to be skin accentuated legs that went on forever. She must dress like that to drive him crazy.
She stepped forward and placed a hand on his hip. “Hey, gorgeous.”
“Hey.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him so tight, he instantly became aroused. Her body fit Simon’s perfectly. He dipped his head to taste her decadent lips. She opened her mouth slightly. The tease. He took everything she offered and then drove his tongue inside her mouth for more. She moaned and allowed him to continue to possess her. Her hands brushed over his head. Those long, slender fingers then moved down his back, caressing every vertebra. The two lovers moaned erotic sounds, making sure their neighbors could hear the foreplay.
He grasped her ass with both hands and lifted her off the ground. Her legs wrapped around him, shooting Simon’s core temperature up thirty degrees. Their mouths never parted as he carried her into her foyer. He kicked the door closed and loosened his grip so she could slide down his body back to earth. Once her feet hit the ground, they separated.
“If you’re going to shove your tongue down my throat, you need to brush your teeth. And use mouthwash.” Nicola, breathing hard, straightened her clothes. The shirt had lifted up and her tight abs peeked out over her painted-on denim.
“If you’re goin
g to be a bitch, get another partner.” He headed to the kitchen to grab a soda and cool down.
“Trust me, I’ve tried. No one else in the agency wants you.” She followed him.
He grinned and took out two Cokes, handing one to her. “I guess you’re stuck then.”
“Guess so.”
They moved from the kitchen into one of the back bedrooms. Two desks stood side by side covered with files, a large computer, and two laptops. Surrounded by beige carpet, white walls, and wooden desks, the only color in the room came from small multicolored pins placed on a large map of the world. An old pizza box and several discarded coffee cups from Starbucks decorated the floor.
Nicola sat at the left desk and brought up her email screen. “I’m glad you came over. Teodor contacted us. He said he’d take the Matisse until the artifacts arrive.”
Simon scanned the message. Sure enough, an email from “paulsmith” at some weed killer website counteroffered Simon’s suggestion of a money drop.
“Where’s the Matisse now?” He couldn’t afford to lose the painting.
“The back closet in the vault.”
“Fine. Set it up. Tell him that in addition to the three crates of Glocks, I want fifty Colt Pythons.”
“Ambitious.”
“Always.”
The art funded international arms deals he and Nicola organized. Simon acted as a middleman bringing buyers and sellers together. None of the parties, except his partner Nicola, knew of Simon’s affiliation with MI6.
Nicola pushed her hair behind her shoulders, exposing her long neck. Man, she turned him on. If she wasn’t such a stickler for following rules and regulations, Simon would have tried to change their relationship from business to personal a long time ago. He’d prefer a diversion with a kindred spirit to a meaningless one-night stand with a waitress he’d never see again.
She studied the screen and brought up her calendar. “I’ll be in Paris for the next two weeks working with our art supplier, Luc. He’s handling the artifacts from Afghanistan.”
Untrue Colors (Entangled Select Suspense) Page 12
