Break and Enter: A Sexy, Thrilling Romantic Suspense (Callahan Security Series Book 1)

by Lori Matthews

  He smiled. “I can think of a few places.” His bed, for one. “What do you say? Are you up for a night out?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know anything about you.”

  “That’s not true.”

  Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you know my name, which is more than I can say.” She opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off. “You know I work for Jameson Drake. You were looking for your friend Nikki on his yacht the other day. Did you ever find her by the way?” He watched her very closely. A ripple of emotion passed over her features. Fear maybe? It had happened too quickly for him to be sure. She hadn’t expected him to bring up their last meeting. Her eyes changed. Damn. Now he’d put her guard up. Better keep quiet about Venice. For now.

  “I never found Brandi.”

  Score one for her. She was sharp.

  “I think I had the wrong yacht. She seems to have disappeared. I didn’t know her all that well anyway. I’m new to the area. I just met her, and she suggested it would be a fun way to pass the day.”

  When she bit her lip, his body responded with instant awareness. She looked so lovely, so decadent. He put his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out and pulling her hard against him. “So, what do you say? Let me take you out?” He moved off the wall again and came toward her. He was stalking his prey and from the way she shifted her weight away from him, as if trying not to back up, she knew it. When he reached toward her, her green eyes went wide, turning a deeper emerald color. Her hands clenched into fists as he picked a piece of fluff off the strap of her dress.

  He had never been so aware of another person.

  Color washed up her cheeks. Her chest rose as she took a breath, her lips parted. Finally, she tilted her head, signaling, consciously or not, that she had reached a decision.

  “Come out with me,” he coaxed, his voice coming out rougher than he would have liked. She nodded just once. The start of a smile formed on her lips. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from them. They were luscious and red like ripe strawberries. He leaned forward just slightly, and to his delight, she mirrored his movement.

  “So how did you make out?” a voice chirped. He swung around to see the shop owner bearing down on them. His frown must have been fierce because her steps immediately faltered. “Is everything Okay?” she asked, hesitation clear in her voice.

  “Fine,” his beautiful thief managed to croak. She cleared her throat. “Just fine. Thank you, Giselle.”

  A feeling of smug satisfaction filled his chest as he watched her struggle to get herself under control. At least he wasn’t the only one who felt this strange energy between them. He shifted, trying to get more comfortable in his jeans.

  She turned back to the mirror. “I think I’ll take all three of them.” She met his eyes in the mirror again. “It seems I’ll have a place to wear the black one after all.” She walked back into the dressing room and pulled the curtain closed behind her.

  Mitch waited for her outside. He took a deep breath and blew it out as soon as the shop door closed behind him. He needed to be very careful with this one. It was a very risky game he was playing. She was dangerous as hell, and he needed to win this war no matter what. His future was riding on it.

  The door opened a few moments later, and she walked out. “Thanks for the advice on the dresses.” She gave him a teasing smile. Her hat and sunglasses were back on, so her mouth was her only visible feature. No doubt she’d done that on purpose.

  “No problem. It was my pleasure. Truly.” He shot her a grin. “So, let me know where you’re staying, and I’ll pick you up at eight. We can have dinner, and then I’ll take you somewhere you can show off your dress.”

  “Make it ten. I have a few things to do first. I’m staying at the Marina Hotel.” She wasn’t…not anymore, but he wasn’t going to let her know he knew that. She smiled and waggled her fingers in a small wave as she turned to go.

  “Can I have your cell number so I can call you when I arrive?”

  She chuckled and said over her shoulder, “Don’t worry, I’ll find you. The lobby isn’t that big.”

  “By the way, my name is Carrie.” The words floated back to him as he watched her hit the end of the sidewalk and cross the street. When she was out of sight, he left the opposite way. He grimaced. He hadn’t asked her name on purpose. He didn’t want her to lie to him. It was stupid, but he wanted to keep things pure between them.

  She was a thief, but somewhere along the way, he’d started seeing her as his thief. Reality hit him in the gut. He’d do well to remember she was the enemy.

  Day off or not, he drove back to the estate and texted Jake, asking him to drop by the office, and then he made the rounds. He checked the security daily, sometimes more than once, making sure that everything was as it should be. He drilled his people on protocols and actions, checked and rechecked equipment. He was becoming obsessive. But the party was this weekend coming, and he was worried about it. Drake was heading to Europe immediately afterward—and the businessman already had a team in place over there. Although it would be great for business if Mitch earned permanent placement on Drake’s security team, he would be relieved to escape this mess.

  Sitting at his desk, Mitch took out the thin file he had on “Carrie.” From the looks of things, she was a fairly busy woman. His hunch that she’d stolen the watch at the Santini’s party—more specifically, from Hans Gabriel—had helped him link her to other crimes in Europe.

  He’d asked an Interpol contact he’d served with overseas, and she’d filled in a few of the blanks. They knew she existed, but they didn’t know who she was. She popped up on their radar because of the odd nature of the items she stole. She didn’t always go after expensive jewelry or artwork. Sometimes she took what amounted to only keepsakes. Strange.

  Apparently, she’d almost been caught in Sweden, but they’d ended up with nothing more than a wig and a cape of some sort. They had DNA evidence but nothing to match it against. Besides, when really pushed , the victim, Sven Svenson, had refused to press charges, so there was no case.

  As far as Mitch could tell, “Carrie” had hit most of the countries in Europe.

  A wave of guilt hit him in the chest. Interpol had no idea what she looked like. The only picture they had was a blurry profile shot where she was wearing huge sunglasses and a long, dark wig. With her complexion and the light dusting of freckles over her nose, he was willing to bet her real hair color was light, like a light brown or dark blond. He should call up his contact and tell them what he knew. Hell, he should take a picture for them, but he couldn’t bring himself to make the call. He didn’t want to think too much about his reasons.

  “Hey.” Jake walked in the door and sprawled in the seat across from him. “You wanted to see me?”

  “I need a favor. I know I’m supposed to cover the night shift tonight, but I need you to work for me.”

  “Why? Got a hot date?”

  Mitch hesitated slightly before opening his mouth to answer.

  “You do!” Jake clapped his hands together. “It’s about damn time. You haven’t had a dry spell like this since….well, since never. You had more action when we were overseas in the desert than you do now.”

  Grinding his teeth, Mitch shook his head. “It’s not a hot date, exactly. It’s business, and besides, I’m not in a dry spell. I’m putting work first. There’s a difference.”

  “Dude, you’re in a dry spell. Own it.” Jake grinned. “Where are you taking her?”

  “NY East.”

  “The hottest dance bar in the Hamptons? Damn straight, it’s a date. Ain’t no business being done in that place that’s above board. So, who’s the lucky lady?”

  Mitch shook his head as he closed the file. “It’s business.” He didn’t want to tell anyone else about his thief just yet. He wanted to feel her out more. Feel her up, more like it. He came down hard on the voice in his head.

  “I’ll cover for you, but you o
we me big time.” Jake hopped out of the chair. “I’m going to grab a late lunch/early dinner. You’re free after that.”

  “I won’t leave here ‘til shortly before ten, so take your time.”

  “That late? I’m concerned you don’t recognize this is a date, my brother. You need to get out more.” After Mitch gave him the finger, Jake laughed all the way out the door and down the hallway.

  “It’s business,” he called out. Tonight was going to be all business.

  Yeah, sure. Who was he kidding?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Alex paced back and forth along the wall of windows in her rented guest house. Her stomach clenched with guilt. She was seriously considering lying to Leo, and she’d never ever lied to Leo. She came to a stop at the island in the kitchen and picked up her water bottle. She downed half of it, wishing wholeheartedly it was vodka.

  Looking out at the sand dunes, she thanked her lucky stars and Mrs. Olsen her temporary landlord for her safe haven. It had a direct line of site to Drake’s compound and the beach front. She’d been able to watch Mitch’s team as they worked on the security system over the last week. She’d also watched Mitch when he went for his daily early morning swim. The sun glistening off his well-muscled body was her favorite part of this gig so far.

  She played with the bottle’s label as she walked across the room before stopping at the fireplace on the far wall. She and Leo had come to an agreement that she would not use Mitch as a way in, that it was too dangerous, and here she was going out on a date with him. What the hell had she been thinking?

  The issue was she hadn’t been thinking with her brain. That man was sex on a stick, and he was a challenge. It was a deadly combination for her. Like catnip.

  She loved a good challenge, physically craved it. And here it was wrapped in the sexiest man she had ever come across. Emerging from the dressing room in that black dress had been akin to making a declaration of war—a war that promised to be as pleasurable as it was dangerous. She wasn’t backing down so she either had to tell Leo the plan had changed or lie to him.

  She frowned as she paced back toward the kitchen. She was seriously leaning toward lying to him. He was sick and cranky already. No need to make it worse by telling him the truth.

  She slammed her water bottle down on the island. No, she could justify anything. She just had to put on her big girl panties and tell Leo the truth.

  The truth. She turned and looked out at the dunes. The truth was she was still searching for something after all these years. She ran headlong into job after job, each one more challenging than the next, always looking for that one job that could help her feel true joy. The one that would make her feel like she’d accomplished something, helped someone, changed the world, even if only a little. Leo’s talk of retirement or taking a rest, which he was sure to repeat once he heard just how badly she’d messed up, was anathema to her.

  No matter how much she tried to humor Leo and entertain the idea, she knew she would never be able to remain still. If she stopped now, if she gave up, what would come next? Everything would catch up to her, that was what. Her breath hitched in her throat. She wasn’t going there. The past was a void better left unexplored.

  She shook her head and took a couple of deep breaths. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Her temporary landlord, Mrs. Olsen, was coming over the dunes and along the path from the beach. Her pure white hair was held back in a loose bun at the nape of her neck. She was wearing an old pair of jeans and sneakers. Her blue and white striped blouse hung loose. She had her hands full of what looked like shells and a bucket that was obviously heavy.

  Alex threw open the door to her deck and headed down the stairs to the path. “Can I help you with that, Mrs. O?” she asked.

  “Bless you, dear. I could use the help. These old bones are getting pretty tired.” She handed the bucket to Alex.

  “How far did you walk?”

  “Three miles, but it was slow going. I can feel all of my eighty-eight years today. It must be going to rain later. You can smell the salt in the air.”

  Alex took a deep breath and nodded. Yes, they were mere feet from the Atlantic Ocean, but Mrs. Olsen was right, the air was saltier somehow. “Is that what it means when the air smells like this? Rain?”

  “Yes. It always smells different when the rain is coming. And my bones are aching, so there’ll be rain tonight. I hope you don’t have any big plans.”

  “Um…”

  “Well, then take an umbrella.”

  They walked along the path past the guest house and on to the main lawn. The grass was lush and green already, even though there hadn’t been a lot of rain yet this spring. The pool sparkled in the setting sun as they passed.

  Mrs. Olsen pointed toward the pool. “Have you gone swimming yet, dear? John keeps it at a decadent eighty-five degrees for me. You should enjoy it.”

  “I haven’t had the chance, but I plan to this weekend.” She smiled at the older woman. “Thanks again for renting me your guest house. I...” What could she say? I needed to hide out?

  Mrs. Olsen reached out and patted her arm. “No need for any thanks or to explain. I have been around long enough to recognize a woman in trouble when I see one.” They took the stairs to the terrace. “You know what else I see?” Mrs. Olsen looked over at Alex, her brown eyes full of warmth. “I see a woman who is lost.”

  Alex opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came to mind. She couldn’t bring herself to tell the woman she was mistaken when she wasn’t. After knowing Alex for a matter of days, she’d pinpointed exactly what was wrong with her.

  “My advice? Figure out what it is you really want and then figure out what you need. Many times, they are part and parcel of the same thing.” She gave Alex’s arm a squeeze and then took the bucket back from her.

  “Mrs. Olsen?”

  “Yes, dear?”

  Alex wanted to say so many things at that moment. She opened her mouth again, but everything got caught up in a tangle in her throat. She swallowed hard and then blurted out, “Why do you carry a bucket of water with you on your walks?” It was a stupid question, but it was the only one that didn’t wrench at her gut. Besides, it had been bothering her for the last few days and she really needed to know.

  “Why, for the dogs. Everyone brings their dogs to the beach, and they forget to bring fresh water for them.”

  “Oh.” She smiled. “Of course.” It made sense. Mrs. Olsen was perfection. Plain and simple and helpful and good. She was a reminder of everything Alex felt compelled to protect.

  “Have fun tonight, dear.” Mrs. Olsen turned and went into the house.

  Alex walked back across the yard to her guest house. It was funny. She had met Mrs. Olsen in town when she was feeling desperate and, yes, lost. Staying at the hotel was out, but where could she go next? She had sat on a bench to think it all through, and Mrs. Olsen had joined her. They started talking and, before she knew it, she had a place to stay with no strings attached.

  She was half convinced Mrs. Olsen, with her insightful, warm eyes and generosity, was some kind of good witch. The woman had never even asked for her name—she’d immediately taken to calling her “dear.” And the guest house was now her safe haven in a stormy world. Best of all, its location was phenomenal.

  Alex opened the door to the guest house to find Leo poking around in her fridge. “Don’t you ever eat?” he mumbled as he came out of the fridge with a yoghurt in his hand.

  “Don’t you ever wait to be let in?” she countered.

  “Not necessary. We’re family,” he said and then promptly sneezed.

  “If you get me sick, our family will be down a member,” she threatened as she walked over to the coffee table and grabbed a box of tissues. Coming back, she placed it on the island in front of Leo. “When did you get into town?”

  “Last night, and I’m fine. Thanks for asking,” Leo mumbled through the tissue. “Threats. I get threats instead of concern over my s
tate of well-being.”

  “You’ve got a cold, Leo. You’re not dying.” She rolled her eyes. She walked back to the living room and crashed onto the white comfy chair with the big, cushy pillows. She put her feet up on the matching ottoman and laid her head back on the cushions.

  “Well, it feels like I’m dying.” Leo wandered over and sat down on the matching sofa, sinking into its depths. “Oh, this is nice,” he said as he snuggled deeper.

  “Don’t get too comfortable over there, you.” She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “We have work to do.”

  Leo just grunted in reply and closed his eyes.

  “Seriously, Leo, we have to go over a few things so don’t fall asleep.”

  She watched him as his breathing became even. He’d always had the enviable ability to fall asleep anywhere at the drop of a hat. She picked up a pillow to throw at him to wake him up, but then she noticed how pale he looked. Dark circles bagged under his eyes, and his cheeks were gaunt.

  Leo had never talked about his past. She wasn’t even really sure if his nonna was any real relation to him. They were strays together, she and Leo. What if this was more than a cold? The thought was like a sucker punch to the solar plexus. She suddenly couldn’t breathe. Leo was the person she was closest to on this earth, and if she lost him... Her throat got tight with tears.

  “Relax, doll, it’s just a cold.” His breath wheezed out of his chest, but he cracked one eye open and then winked at her.

  She threw the pillow at him. He deserved it. He’d given her a good scare. Somehow, he always seemed to know what she was thinking.

  He sat up straighter and put the pillow down on the sofa beside him. “How are the plans going? Did you make contact with Caterina yet?”

  She bit her lip. “Um, about that...”

  Leo’s eyes narrowed. Not a great start.

  “See, I bumped into Callahan, and he asked me out.” The words came out in a rush. “It wasn’t a setup, I swear. It just kind of happened. It seemed too good of an opportunity to pass up, and you know I hate to manipulate other women unless there’s no other choice…and this kind of just worked out.” Her voice petered out on the last word.