by Avery Flynn
“Don’t worry,” Ruby said, coming to stand next to him on the narrow step. “He’ll enjoy this bombshell.”
Claude didn’t move.
Alarm bells clanged out a Hosanna in Lucas’s head and he tensed.
Ruby just did that hair toss thing women did that could either be a come-on or a challenge and stared down Claude. “Let me introduce you to Luc Svendsen.”
The giant raised a bushy, brown eyebrow in recognition.
“My fiancé.”
The other eyebrow shot up.
She slipped her arm through the crook in Lucas’s elbow. “I’m hoping you won’t spoil the surprise for us. I’d like to tell my father the good news myself.”
Claude’s eyebrows went back to their starting position, and he pivoted so they could pass. He pressed a finger to the nearly invisible comm unit in his ear. “All clear. Stand down.”
Ruby slid her arm down his and intertwined their fingers. As soon as they passed Claude, she let out a shaky breath and followed Lucas’s lead toward the black hardtop Jeep waiting a few feet away. Attraction sizzled its way up his arm, the slow burn wasn’t something he could chalk up to being on operation-ready alert. He’d gone undercover as Luc too many times to count over the years and women had always been present to solidify his cover as a player, but the extra sensory awareness of another human being hadn’t happened before. The fact that it had now, with her, pissed him off.
He opened the passenger door and pushed the seat forward before helping her into the backseat. The Claude clone had moved from standing beside the Jeep to sitting in the driver’s seat. Ruby slid across the backseat, the move raising the hem of her flowy, white skirt to mid-thigh. The flash of creamy flesh had his dick arguing with his head.
Lucas had two choices: in the back next to her, or shotgun where he’d have access to the door. The argument against the door being that on this island there was nowhere to run if things went ass up. The argument for the backseat being that he’d be next to Ruby and her distractingly delectable legs. He let the passenger seat slide back into place and got in the front row. It wasn’t a chicken move. It was about situational awareness and control.
Whatever you have to tell yourself, Bendtsen.
Without a word to either of them, the driver took off down the single-lane road toward the main house. Lucas didn’t bother to try and hide his curiosity as they sped down the road. Noting the details of the gently sloping terrain and the guards posted along the dirt road fit in with his cover. Luc was many things; a trusting idiot wasn’t one of them.
Neither, it seemed, was Rolf Macintosh. They’d no sooner stepped out of the Jeep in the gravel, circular driveway in front of the stone house ten minutes later, than guards were patting them down. He expected this treatment for himself but cut a sharp look toward the guard sliding his palms down Ruby’s side.
“I told you, Luc, there’s no place like home.” An old bitterness clung to her words, but she didn’t resist the search.
After a few minutes, the guards stepped back empty-handed. No doubt there were others searching his plane top to bottom, looking for weapons or anything else of interest. They wouldn’t find anything. Not that there wasn’t a small armory on board, but he’d designed the secret compartments himself, and there was no way any of the thick-necked goons would find them.
“Mr. Macintosh is waiting in the house,” their driver said.
“Thank you.” Ruby raised her chin and took Lucas’s hand.
The sizzle was back, zipping up his arm and giving him thoughts that had more to do with finding her naked and spread out on his bed, than with discovering the coordinates of the illegal gun exchange that would give Gregers Henriksen all the firepower he needed to launch a guerrilla assault on Elskov.
His first instinct was to pull away, but that couldn’t happen, not when the front door opened, revealing Rolf Macintosh standing in the foyer looking every bit like a blond, buff, aging action-movie hero. Next to him stood a man as dark as Rolf was light. Joey Brotzka glowered at Lucas. As good with his left hand as his right when it came to guns or knives, he’d started out as muscle and worked his way up the food chain to become Rolf’s number two.
Ruby tensed beside him. Glancing from the woman at his side to the man looming behind Rolf, Lucas realized his fiancée hadn’t told him everything. Something was definitely off here.
“I understand congratulations are in order,” Rolf said as he led them through the foyer and into the living room, not looking back, simply expecting them to follow.
Two armed guards stood inside the doorway. A flash of silver underneath Joey’s black blazer when he crossed to the fireplace meant at least three shooters in the room. Taking a casual look around, he noted the solid red light above the video cameras mounted to the ceiling and the Glock lying in the center of the large wooden desk. After that, the less important details came into focus. The room was a jarring contrast to the man standing in the middle of it. Dressed in all black just like his lackeys, Rolf was the biggest dark spot in the sunny room filled with muted yellows and pinks dotted with an explosion of the soft, feminine touches of ruffles and flowers.
Ruby slipped from his grasp as soon as they’d walked through the double doors, her white skirt swirling around her long legs. Now she stood a few feet away with her hands planted firmly on her hips as she glared up at her stepfather. “Claude never could keep his mouth shut.”
“You know how I am about surprises,” Rolf said with a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders. “So does Claude, and he’d rather not get on my bad side.”
A charged silence filled the room—and not an unusual one judging by the bored expression on the guards’ faces. Still, he couldn’t miss the dark-red flush blooming at the base of Rolf’s throat or the way Joey gave him a hard look before adjusting his blazer so the butt of his holstered handgun could be seen clearly.
Dickwad.
Knowing he had to play this with just the right amount of attitude and acquiescence, Lucas gave Joey a taunting wink before turning to his pretend future father-in-law and holding out his hand. “Mr. Macintosh, it’s good to finally meet the man behind the legend.”
The older man took his hand in a grip that crushed Lucas’s knuckles together and cut off circulation to his fingers. Lucas didn’t blink. Apparently satisfied that he’d delivered his message, Rolf ended the pulverizing handshake.
“A flatterer, Ruby?” he asked, playing up the disappointed stepfather role, even though he had to know exactly who and what Luc Svendsen was. “I never would have expected.”
“Maybe you make him nervous,” she said.
“As I should.” Rolf paused and looked Lucas over as if he were a used car he was considering buying. “Then again, Luc has quite the reputation himself, especially for someone so rarely seen in person or photographed. Is it true you got ten million euro out of the Luxembourg royal family?”
And just like that the pieces clicked into place. No doubt the old man was already seeing the possibilities for his outfit if Luc came on board. Rolf had all the muscle he needed, but in today’s world, information was often more powerful than a punch to the gut, and the old man knew it.
“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” he said, letting his smirk do all the talking.
Rolf clapped a hand on his shoulder. “A man who deals in stolen secrets has to have discretion.”
“It is our stock in trade,” Lucas agreed.
“I admire a man who knows when to hold his tongue.” He narrowed his eyes at Joey, seemingly sending a specific message to his second-in-command, then turned his attention back to Lucas and gave him another friendly pat on the back. “So you fell for my little girl, eh?”
Lucas glanced at Ruby, the sunlight playing across her pink, purple, and blond hair, and softened his expression. “Yes, sir.”
“You didn’t think to ask my permission before you proposed?”
The trap wouldn’t have been any more obvious if it had been in neon.
“Would your daughter have said yes afterward if I had?”
Rolf laughed, the sound booming in the room, as he walked with Lucas to Ruby’s side. “You do know my little spitfire well.” He took his daughter’s left hand and held it up. “Where’s the ring?”
Lips compressed into a line, Ruby tugged her hand free. “I’m designing it now. You know how picky I can be, Daddy.”
The vein in Rolf’s temple pulsed, and he flexed his jaw. Ruby tensed at his side. Warning sirens blaring in his head, Lucas laid his palm against the small of Ruby’s back, pressing gently against her and rubbing the pad of this thumb in slow, small circles as time stood still. Finally, millimeter by millimeter, she relaxed into his touch.
“I guess that’s the trouble with marrying a jewelry designer,” he said, keeping his tone as light as the mood was heavy.
Rolf slid his flinty gaze over to Lucas. There was more than just annoyance there. He couldn’t pin it down, but whatever it was, it made Lucas’s fingers itch for the cold comfort of his 9mm. Then it was gone and the proud papa was back.
“Well then,” Rolf said, strolling over to the nearby liquor cabinet. “The only thing left for me to do is to pour some drinks so we can toast the newest member of our family.”
He poured a clear liquid into three small glasses and handed one to Ruby and then to him. The sweet and spicy, slightly peppery scent of caraway wafted up from the glass. Akvavit. The Macintoshes may not be Elskovian by birth or geography, but had clearly adopted some of his country’s customs if they toasted with the national drink that would put even the best vodka to shame.
“To the happy couple.” Rolf lifted his glass in toast.
Lucas and Ruby did the same before downing the akvavit in one swallow. It burned its way down his throat, bringing back memories of other toasts with criminals just as depraved—if not as successful—as the man he faced. None of them had ever known that the man with whom they toasted would destroy their organizations from the inside out.
“Have you two set a date?” Rolf poured another shot of akvavit into each of their glasses. “Your mother will want to know.”
“Not yet.” Ruby’s fingers tightened on the tiny glass until her knuckles paled. “How is she?”
“Much the same, but this news will cheer her up.” He lifted the glass to his mouth but stopped before it reached its intended target. His jaw went slack, and he let out a throaty laugh as he shook his head with wide-eyed wonder. “You know what? You should get married here at Fare Island this weekend. There’s nothing like a wedding to cheer up your mother.”
Lucas choked on the akvavit, searing his esophagus in both directions.
Ruby spoke up. “I don’t think that’s—”
“If you’re going to get married anyway,” her father interrupted, steel threading through his words. “Why not do it here and make your poor mother happy?”
The words hung in the air as Lucas ran through the scenarios in his head. Say no and the jig could be up. The old man was suspicious. He’d have to be an idiot not to be. They didn’t need him to be a true believer; they just needed him to believe enough to let down his guard the slightest fraction.
“It’s Monday. We haven’t done any planning.” The words tumbled out of Ruby’s mouth in a rush. “I don’t even have a dress yet.”
His brain continued to spin as he watched the tension grow between stepfather and stepdaughter. Say yes and he’d find himself married, under his legal name, Luc Svendsen, to a woman known—rightly or wrongly—as a black widow and expected to become part of the family business in some shape or form. Divorce was a given, but that came with complications of its own for his cover.
“Mere details that shouldn’t matter if you are really in love and truly ready to make this kind of commitment,” Rolf countered with a wave of his hand. “I can fly in Antoine Alstar to design a one-of-a-kind wedding dress, and Father Simon is always happy to come visit. It’s the perfect plan, unless you aren’t ready to make an honest man out of Luc here.”
On the surface, it was typical banter, but there was no mistaking the pressure building in the room. Even the guards had lost their bored expressions watching one of the most feared men in Europe being openly defied. The angry red splotch was back at the base of the old man’s throat. There wasn’t any more time to consider his options.
“Let’s do it,” Lucas said before he had time to second-guess himself.
Ruby whipped her head around to face him. “Are you serious?”
Time to sell it. Taking her chin between his thumb and finger, he tilted her head upward. Anticipation snapped between them like a live current. “Without a doubt.”
He dipped his head. Her gaze softened, and her lips parted. Later he could justify it to himself as necessary for the farce they were playing out in the middle of a dangerous den of thieves, but at that moment, he couldn’t lie to himself. He had to taste her. Before he could close the distance between his lips and hers, she spoke.
“As long as we can find Jasper so he can be here for the ceremony. It wouldn’t be the same without him.” Triumph flashed in her eyes for a moment and then was replaced with the besotted look of a woman in love. “Could you use your connections to find him on such short notice and get him to Fare Island for the wedding?”
Bloody hell. She had him by the balls, and she knew it. Unlike him, she hadn’t given in, even momentarily, to the tug of attraction between them. That fact should have frozen the hungry heat spiraling through him. But nothing about him seemed to work right when it came to Ruby Macintosh.
“For you?” He dropped his focus to her very kissable mouth. “Of course.”
Her eyes widened in belated realization of his plans, and she let out a soft gasp, but it was too late.
Taking advantage of the moment, he brought his lips down on hers in a swift kiss. He swept his tongue inside her sweet mouth, teasing her while tormenting himself with a taste of something deliciously forbidden and undeniably needed. He ended the contact, pulling away before he got lost in her.
“That settles it, then,” Rolf said, the slightest trace of doubt woven into his tone despite his beaming expression. “We have a wedding to plan.”
Chapter Five
Lips still tingling, Ruby clicked the sturdy door to her old bedroom shut behind her and leaned against it. She’d been gone a year and yet nothing had changed in her room—except for the addition of the man who’d turned her world upside down. All brooding bulk and testosterone, Lucas looked out of place in such a frilly room with its soft pastel colors, ruffled pillows, and yellow beechwood furniture. However, here he was with her father’s approval since they were, as he put it, getting married in a few days.
Before he’d gone all caveman on her downstairs with that showy kiss that had delivered more punch than expected, she was confident she had the upper hand. Now, with him prowling around her room, she wasn’t so sure—and they weren’t even through the worst of it yet. Dinner would bring its own complications. She needed to keep her head clear and forget about that kiss if they were going to make it out of what was sure to be a clusterfuck without blowing their cover story.
“We’ll have to change for dinner.” She strode to the large armoire and opened the doors. As expected, someone had brought their suitcases from the plane and unpacked them. No doubt they’d done a thorough search before hanging a single item.
“You look fine to me,” Lucas said, but he wasn’t even looking at her.
His attention was focused on a cell phone with one of those thick battery cases as he circled the room. She’d never had trouble getting a cell signal in the room before and was about to offer him her phone when the truth hit her. He was sweeping the room for listening devices. She wasn’t sure if she was more pissed at her father for possibly bugging the room or at herself for not thinking of it first.
He circled the king-size bed with its sky-blue duvet and the two cream chairs set in front of the fireplace, then moved on to the oversize armoir
e and uncluttered vanity table while the device let out a series of quiet beeps. Finally, he slid the phone into his inside jacket pocket and turned to glower at her.
“Are you completely fucking insane?” he asked in a harsh whisper.
The answer to that depended on who was answering, but she didn’t think he really wanted a response to his question. “I guess that means the room is clean of bugs.”
He wasn’t going to be put off though, judging by the way he stalked over to her, predatory intention clear in every step that brought him closer. Her pulse shot up, and every instinct warned her to run, but she stood her ground as he bore down on her. He stopped less than an arm’s reach away, frustration dipped in desire pouring off him in waves that set off an answering, delicious shiver up her spine.
“Asking me to bring Jasper here.” He shoved his long fingers through his dark hair, ruffling its perfect order. “You know that isn’t possible.”
“We both know it is possible—anyway, it’s smart for you. It lets you flash a little of that Luc Svendsen magic that has Rolf all hot and bothered.” She snorted at his surprised look. Men always were ready to believe anything about her, except that she could add two plus two and get four. “Oh yes, I know that despite what your written plan stated, I was just your invitation to Fare Island. The really big bait you’re dangling so he’ll let you in close, is the possibility of learning all the secrets you have about the influential people he wants to control.”
“I don’t need Jasper here to prove that I’m valuable.”
“No, you need him here to prove that you’re willing to make sacrifices for the organization. He knows it will cost you valuable favors to get Jasper here. If you don’t think he has some inkling that my brother is in custody, then you vastly underestimate him.” Too many people had tried to influence her father by currying favor with his family. However, neither her mother, brother, nor she had a direct line to her father’s heart. “That’s what he really cares about. Until you can prove your value to the organization, you’re an interesting distraction.”
