“You certainly are popular,” I said into his ear.
He looked at me with an odd expression, one of surprise and admiration mixed together. “You really have no idea, do you?”
“About what?” Panic seized my stomach and I glanced around. Were there terrorists surrounding me? Were the waiters really monks in disguise and I didn't know it? “Tell me.”
He stepped close so his lips brushed my ear. “How beautiful you are.”
“Yeah, right.” I laughed almost snorting out the tiny sip of champagne I'd taken.
“Especially when you're just being you.” Malcolm leaned close once again. “They're flocking to me, to get a closer look at you.”
I had a hard time believing that so as the heat burned in my cheeks, I babbled out some words, trying to make light of it. “So much for blending into the crowd.”
“Mother did much too good a job with you.”
He suddenly stiffened and gripped my arm as an older attractive man with black wavy hair strode toward us. He held his head high and the arrogant look in his eyes told me this man was used to getting what he wanted. The orchestra started a slow number and my fingers tapped the rhythm of the waltz. Malcolm’s hold on my arm grew tighter.
“You're hurting me.”
Malcolm’s smile grew, but I recognized it as fake, a total act.
The man stuck out his hand. “Dear friend, how nice of you to come. And who is this lovely woman by your side?”
Instantly the man gave me the creeps, the way he made sure our eyes made direct contact, the way he touched my arm as he shook hands with Malcolm, the way he smiled while talking, which looked totally stupid. Sometimes, a girl has to follow her instinct and mine was telling me that this guy was no good.
“Come now, introduce us before I lose my chance to spin her across the dance floor.”
“Actually, she and I were just heading in that direction.”
Malcolm moved his hand to my lower back and pushed me forward, leaving the creepo in the dust. Once on the floor, he took the lead and we moved as one. Kinda. More like he didn't grimace when I took the wrong step or moved in the wrong direction.
“Who was that?” Malcolm’s gaze flicked back and forth between the crowds and me. “Hey! Who's the creep?” I repeated.
“Shh. Just dance.” Malcolm spun me, my skirt swirling.
When the waltz ended, he kept me close and moved into another slow dance as the orchestra stayed with the same pace. He placed his cheek against mine, his breathing a bit faster than usual.
I felt safe, which was nice. Then he spoke, shattering any pretense of a lovely afternoon tea.
“That man was Robert Yertsky, friend of Constance. He’s one of the most dangerous men in the country. For some reason, he set his sight on you.”
“Ew. He's way too old,” I said jokingly, but the name struck a chord. His name had been on Constance’s file in the secret room. What was their connection?
“That doesn't matter to someone like him. This will make your mission even harder. Understand? It's imperative you don't waste time. When I leave, enter the house immediately, find his office and take pictures of anything on his desk, anything suspicious or personal.”
Malcolm paused as a couple moved within hearing range. He traced his hand down my back and kissed the soft skin near my ear. His hips swayed against mine as he pressed me closer. He steered me away and withdrew, leaving me a little bit breathless.
I tried to get the words out. “But what if—”
“There are no what ifs. You get in, you get out. I'll be waiting down the street in the car.”
I grabbed the sleeve of tux. “But why just pictures? Is someone going to swoop in after me and do the real work?” I made the slight motion of drawing my hand across my neck.
Malcolm pressed his lips together. “Robert hired us to take care of Constance and we’re investigating both sides.”
I mouthed the word “Oh” and winked at him. “Gotcha.”
I took advantage of the precious few seconds before he’d leave me. I walked my fingers up his chest. “You know, just in case I die or something, could you tell me anything about my mom?”
Malcolm turned his back to another couple and slowly moved us closer to the entrance of the house. “From the little I know, your mom and Will have dealt with each other in the past, but if she hasn't told you about their relationship, then I doubt Will would either.”
His words and the little bit of truth they contained lingered, and I couldn’t shake them off. Mom knew Will? Personally? Had she struck some kind of deal with him too? At that point, we'd reached the end of the dance floor. He spun me once more. His hand brushed across the top of the exposed skin of my chest—thanks to the miracle bra.
“There is a miniature camera on the inside of your bra. I just dropped it into a tiny pocket. Take as many pictures of papers or anything you can find on Constance. Good luck.”
Then he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.
I stood alone, my body still tingling from his touch and the insta-fear his words had produced. Go inside. Find office. Take pictures. Leave.
Simple.
Simple until creepo spotted and bee lined toward me.
Twenty-two
I froze as Robert walked toward me with a smug grin, each step filled with purpose. Three older gentlemen with arrogance in their stride, all carrying their brandies, passed in front of him. I took the opportunity to dash behind the nearest art sculpture, realized that was a terrible idea, and then dove behind the hedge decorating the side of the house. I crouched, the fringes of my dress skimming the neatly trimmed lawn. I wanted to stay right there and wished this whole thing away.
Robert spun slowly in a circle, his eagle eyes searching every face on the dance floor. He craned his neck and I prayed the guy would pull a muscle. His false sense of power rolled off him in waves. As guests passed him they tried to sneak in a word or two with him but he brushed them off. At one point, his gaze rested on the hedge and I immediately came up with some excuses as to why I was crouched there. I dropped an earring. I had a panic/anxiety disorder. I thought he was the biggest creep and was avoiding him. Okay that one probably wouldn't go over too well but I was beginning to appreciate the truth since it was something I barely experienced.
Luck intervened and a slutty blonde sidled up to him, her chest pushed out and brushing his suit coat. His gaze naturally travelled downward and then she grabbed his arm and led him to the dance floor. Thankfully, the creep couldn't say no to beauty. As soon as he turned his back, I dashed into the front entrance.
Inside, while my eyes adjusted to the dark, I rubbed my arms. I could do this. Get in and get out. No problem. Voices of waiters neared and I snuck into a hallway and pressed up against the wall. As soon as they passed I followed Malcolm’s instructions: straight through the first room, down the stair, first hallway on the right, second door on the left.
The door opened easily and I slipped inside. The large office was nothing like Bartholomew's and at first I couldn't move. Pottery was smashed on the floor, their shards in scattered piles. Intricately designed wrought iron lamps lay across one another like a pile of Pick Up Sticks. The entire room seemed a mishmash of different cultures from the thick Persian rug to the pottery to the odds and ends stacked on shelves. Had someone searched the room before me? My heart plummeted as I realized the evidence I needed to photograph might have been stolen.
The whole creep vibe pulsed in the room and freaked me out. I went straight to the desk, which had papers piled up just waiting for me. I fumbled inside my dress for the mini camera and started taking random pictures of the papers on the desk. One after another. This took several minutes and then I went to the first filing cabinet. I searched for Gerald and pulled out his file. I snapped more pictures, but I had a feeling this was the same background information we already had on Constance.
But I noticed a map, hand drawn blueprints of some kind of building but t
here were huge chunks missing. The ends were torn as if he studied this a lot. My fingers tingled just touching the worn paper. With a delicate touch, I folded it and stuck it inside the secret compartment of the purse Janelle had loaned me, then I stuffed the file back in the cabinet.
I moved onto the wooden crate against the wall that should’ve been in a warehouse and not a plush office. With my fingertips under the lid, I pulled it up. Dusty scrolls and parchments were stacked to the brim.
“Find anything interesting?”
I dropped the lid with a slam and whipped around to find Robert leaning against the doorway, with a predatory grin.
“I, um, was looking for the bathroom,” I blurted out. Crap.
“Bathroom, really.” He massaged the sides of his chin. “I find that rather odd.”
I took a few steps toward the doorway, but he moved to block my exit.
“Why would a pretty little thing like yourself in need of a tinkle look for a bathroom on the basement floor. Why not on the first floor? Why not ask one of the waiters?”
“They were occupied, and you know, I had to go.” I crossed my legs for effect.
“Hmm.” He rested his hand on a lamp and then two seconds later sent it crashing to the floor, the bulb shattering and tiny pieces of glass scattering. “I don’t like it when people lie to me.”
Needle pricks of panic started in my toes and spread up my legs until they attacked my chest. I could barely breathe. I realized that the damage in the room was the result of his uncontrollable rage. He made up the distance between us in three giant strides. Within seconds, the sudden rage passed and lust took its place. His eyes moved from my face and then lower, desire flashing as he wiggled his fingers in anticipation.
It was all I could do not to spit in his face. I leaned one arm against the wall and struck a casual pose like a proper spy in a moment of danger, but then he let the backs of his fingers trail down the side of my arm.
“You might need to be punished for trespassing.”
All my training seeped out of my mind and lay in a puddle on the floor. The tips, the advice, the knowledge abandoned me.
“People always misunderstand me.” Again, the rage flickered in the pulsing of his jaw. He grabbed a ceramic mug from the desk and smashed it against the wall. Then his twitching muscles calmed and he said casually, “They say I have a temper.”
I winced.
“But really, I don't. It's quite simple. If people respect me, I respect them.” His hand moved up and into my hair and he pulled me toward him. His whiskey breath blasted my face, the sour smell making my insides curl. “Why, why, why, do people think they can cross me?”
“Because they’re stupid?” I closed my eyes, to prevent a tear from leaking out the side.
He yanked my head back. Pain rippled across my scalp and I hung in midair. He controlled my body like my hair strands were strings and I was the puppet. He yanked me back up and brought his mouth to my ear. “Smart girl.”
He threw me to the ground and I gasped as the wind got knocked out of me. I scrambled away from him on all fours.
“Come now. No need to be so scared.” He jumped with ease and sat on his desk. “It's really rather simple. You tell me why you're here and then I'll see if I can help you. If I can't, I'll let you go.”
“What?”
“You heard me and I'm a man of my word.” He snorted. “Unlike some I know.”
I struggled for words. I couldn't tell him about the pictures but I could feed him half-truths. “The family I'm living with, they sent me.” Doubt flickered on his face so I smiled like I was telling the truth when in fact I had no idea why they’d sent me into this man’s house or why they wanted pictures of his private papers.
“Ah, yes. I know exactly the family you’re referring to. That doesn't surprise me at all, the bumbling amateurs. But that’s not your fault and I consider myself a fair man.” He tapped his chin. “Now why would they send an amateur like you to spy on me when they are more than capable of taking care of the job? And what could they possibly need that I haven’t already told them? Hmm. How fun!” He clapped in excitement. “I do like a good puzzle.” He was back at my side before I could move. He traced his hand down my jaw and lingered right below my mouth. “And you my dear are an interesting one.”
“They want to know about Constance,” I blurted out, anxious to get as far away from this man as possible. No wonder Will’s family wanted to spy on this guy: they didn’t trust him. I wouldn’t either and I didn’t need assassin instincts to figure that out.
Robert didn't have a quick reply at the ready. The name Constance seemed to affect him. His face paled but slowly turned various shades of red from the neck up. He fiddled with a pencil and snapped it in half.
“That traitor!” His words shot out, laced with venom and hatred. He paced the room, mumbling to himself.
I inched toward the door, ready to run and never look back. Malcolm was telling the truth: Robert was mad at Constance and hired assassins to do away with him. I hid my gasp.
He flipped and marched toward me. “I already told them everything about that traitor!” His fingers wrapped around my bare arms and he shook me. “Why are you really here?” He let go and beat his chest with his fist. “To kill me?”
“No, absolutely not. I, I don't know anything.”
“Ha! Liar!” He patted my head and seemed to calm down with every stroke of my hair. “That's okay, I'll tell you even if they won’t. Constance is a thief!” He pointed a finger in the air and his face reddened again. “We were partners! Then he bowed out, after stealing the map and handing me a fake. You hear me? He took my money and never followed through! Cutting me out of everything. My hopes. My dreams. That kind of betrayal only deserves one kind of punishment.”
He didn't have to tell me. “Death?”
Robert’s anger disappeared again, and he did another one eighty, transforming back into the smiling host. “Too bad you got caught with your fingers in the cookie jar. You’ve told me the truth, what you know of it. I can see you're just a pawn.” He struck a finger in the air. “But,” his voice got louder, “even pawns must pay their dues.”
Robert came at me with his hands aimed at my boobs.
Twenty-three
His hands briefly skimmed my chest and light twinkled in his eyes, then the lunatic grasped my hand and dragged me to the middle of the office floor. I struggled, but his iron grip made it impossible to escape.
“We never did get our dance. That naughty boy kept you all to himself.”
My cheeks flamed.
“You are quite transparent. One dance with me, and you’ll forget all about him. The ladies simply can’t resist me.”
He clapped and music flicked on to some sort of waltz. He put one arm behind my back and held the other one up in the air. “May I have this dance?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Ooh, I like a girl with some spice. You could say no…”
His words trailed off but I didn’t care for the underlying suggestion of what would happen if I did say no, so I played along. He wasn’t nearly as good as Malcolm and I felt stiff and awkward.
“Relax,” he whispered in my ear as his hand rubbed my lower back and slid down to my butt.
I wanted to puke and kick some major bad guy ass. But I had to be smart. I’d seen enough movies to know to play along until the right time, after he’d fallen under my seductive spell and relaxed.
He twirled me under his arm and then resumed the position. “I’m willing to forgive and forget, but your boss needs to realize he can’t mess with me.”
Robert continued to talk but it was mostly egotistical babble. I flashed back to all the training in the past few weeks, the impromptu running and fights and missions through Athens. This was what I’d prepared for, a moment like this, filled with danger, a bad guy, and me. My patience with waiting for the right moment wore thin. I wasn’t doing anything but letting this guy control the situation. M
ajor spy fail moment. I jerked out of my thoughts when he pushed me away. In a blur I saw his hand pull back but I didn’t understand what was happening until I felt the sting of his hand on my face. Tears sprang to my eyes.
He yanked me close again. “When I talk people listen and you are no exception. Understand?”
I nodded, numb with the shock and pain of his action. He resumed the dancing position and forced me across the floor. I stumbled and found it hard to keep up the pretense. I was done being the stooge, the ‘fraidy cat. I’d subjected myself to Will and his family and the dangers that came with that so I’d be able to defend myself. I certainly didn’t risk it all for nothing, for this.
I kicked him in the shins and then ducked. “Sorry. Guess I’m a bit clueless.”
Robert grabbed his leg. His eyes flashed. “That wasn’t very nice.” He reached out to grab a fistful of hair but I swerved.
Malcolm’s words came back to me. Use what you have. You might not always have a gun or knife on you. And wasn't that the truth? I peeled my feet off the floor and took a step toward the back wall. I just happened to pick up a letter opener on the way. Robert growled and moved toward me slowly. I held up my fists, the sharp end of the file pointing out.
“Don’t think I won’t take you out,” I threatened.
He laughed. “Oh, my dear. You are such a treat, a breath of fresh air. No wonder those silly assassins keep you around. What fun.” In response to my brandishing a file, he undid the belt from around his waist and snapped it in the air.
Prickles popped. My heart pumped blood so hard and fast it sounded like a base drum. I dropped the letter opener and dove for his legs, hoping to knock him over. He fell but then I took a foot in the side of the head. With my ears ringing and blurred vision I attacked again with my fists, ready to pound his face, but I missed. He moved with the poise of a ninja and it became clear that this psycho had many more weeks, probably years, of training than me.
Heart of an Assassin (Circle of Spies) Page 10
