by Serena Vale
“Why don’t you two go dance together for me. I’ll watch,” His words matched the lecherous grin he sent them perfectly. They both giggled, and it took every ounce of effort not to roll his eyes, instead maintaining the same slightly bored expression he’d been wearing all night. With identical heated looks in his direction, they headed for the dance floor.
The truth was, Valentine really was bored. Bored with the same empty conversations, the vapid women who continued to remind him that they weren’t Hope, trying to attract him because of his reputation, or more likely, his fortune. He was tired of the endless parties.
His cell phone vibrated in the pocket of his tight-fitting black denim jeans, and he was thankful for the distraction. Normally, he would have more than willing bring one of those women home, or both of them. Now it just seemed so meaningless.
He tried to shake off the morose thoughts as he answered.
“Valentine.”
“Hey, Valentine, we’re bringing you in.” Instantly, he was on alert. This was the call he’d been waiting for.
“I’m on the case?”
“Yeah, Captain decided you’re the best man for the job, so, congratulations. You’re going to America.”
“When am I leaving?” Valentine tried to speak as quietly as he could and still be heard over the loud music.
“Be here in one hour for debriefing. Your flight is scheduled for five am.”
Valentine glanced at his watch, it was just after midnight now. It looked like he wasn’t getting any sleep that night. But the sudden adrenaline pumping through his veins at the phone call made him feel like going without sleep wouldn’t be a problem.
“Got it. See you in an hour.”
“See ya.”
The other end of the line went dead, and Valentine disconnected, replacing the phone in his pocket. Without another glance at the two women still moving seductively on the dance floor, he headed out of the club and out into the cold night air, walking towards a silver Lamborghini.
The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, tinging the sky a dark, muted grey as night began to give way. Valentine strode towards the terminal he would soon be departing from. He was cutting it close. The meeting had gone later than expected and his flight was scheduled to take off in less than twenty minutes.
Carrying nothing but a briefcase and a small duffel bag, he had made it through security in record time. Briefly, he thought of the classified documents hidden in the briefcase, but pushed them out of his mind. Of course, if he had been flying his own personal jet, he wouldn’t have been so rushed.
The idea had been shot down immediately by the captain when he brought it up. Too conspicuous, he said. Valentine snorted derisively to himself. What was the point of having billions of dollars if you couldn’t use it to make life a little easier?
At least they had sprung for first class, he thought at he boarded, taking a seat, and the glass of champagne the stewardess offered him. Again, the documents popped back into his mind unbidden.
He had memorized it all by heart during the meeting, and the message played again and again in his mind. Valentine knew the stolen manuscript was valuable, which was why it had been hidden away in his personal vault for the last year.
But he’d had no idea the type of men who were after it. Thinking it was just a novel antiquity, he hadn’t tried to keep the acquisition a secret. He couldn’t read a word of it, so never looked that deeply into the relics history, but apparently it was a long and bloody one.
There was a vicious group of men after it, for its value or for its secrets he wasn’t sure, and neither was the captain. He thought of the solid, dark haired middle aged man who had recruited him eight months ago.
Valentine had been floundering, lost. Squandering his money, and his brain, and his talents, although he had little enough of those, he freely admitted. Unless it came to partying or women.
Captain Rettleson had dug him out of the alcohol induced stupor of the last fifteen years, and had offered him a chance. An opportunity to earn something for himself, rather than be content to continue his life of disillusion, living off his family’s money.
At first, he had been wary, unsure of what was going to be asked of him. With the help of his charm, and connections, they had caught a man who had been in charge of running a sex slave ring in western Russia. That moment had changed Valentines life.
For the first time he could ever remember in all of his twenty-nine years, he had done something useful, worthwhile. And of course he couldn’t tell anyone about it. And he was still stuck pretending to be the bored playboy to keep up his cover. But not this time, Valentine thought ruefully. I’m just going to be a…tourist.
He glanced down at the briefcase in his lap, once more reminded of the dangerous situation he would be in if the other men looking for that old book caught up with him. He felt a shiver of worry for the other person inadvertently caught in the cross fire.
Hope.
She was in real danger. Fear coursed through him at the thought of her in trouble, hurt or captured, possibly tortured. He had the dossier on these men. He knew what they had done in the past to get what they wanted, who they had hurt. Who they had killed.
They were not nice people.
His hand tensed on the expensive leather handle until his knuckles were white. He would find her, protect her, keep her safe, and then yell at her until his voice was hoarse for stealing from him and disappearing without a word.
With his plan laid out before him, he felt a little better, and allowed himself to relax as the flight attendant brought him another glass of champagne.
Two terminals down from Valentine, another man boarded a plane. He was nondescript, with big, horn-rimmed glasses and no facial hair. He was wearing brown pants and a dark blue polo, and he had a generic rolling suitcase that probably half of the other travelers had as well.
He was completely forgettable, and that’s exactly how he liked it. He walked onto the plane, took his seat, and immediately closed his eyes, already picturing the sweet screams of the beautiful girl whose picture was wedged like a bookmark in the travel guide he had with him.
She had dark brown skin that looked so soft, long curly hair that was almost black, but with hints of caramel shot through it, and the biggest, deep amber colored eyes. He couldn’t wait to see the light go out of those beautiful eyes. After he got the manuscript from her of course. He had been hired to retrieve the ancient book, and then get rid of the evidence.
No one would miss a thief. He would dump her body and be out of the country before anyone even knew she was gone. He almost chuckled at the thought, but didn’t, being careful to keep his features straight, even. Forgettable. That’s just the way he liked it.
Chapter 3
The other line rang once, twice before Hope replaced the receiver, prematurely ending the call. She stood, her arms wrapped protectively around her midsection, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for the payphone to ring. This was the only way to get a hold of her seller, but today, it made her feel uneasy. Exposed.
The shrill sound of the ring had her jumping, then silently berating herself for being foolish. She had done this several times before, she just couldn’t shake the itch between her shoulder blades. It made her skin scrawl. It made her feel like someone was watching her.
Hope quickly picked up the receiver again.
“I have the item.”
“Fantastic. Excellent work, as always.”
“Thank you, sir. Where would you like to meet for the drop-off?”
“I have arranged for you to meet the buyer directly.” Hope was shocked, and a little wary in the sudden change of operations.
“Are you sure about that, sir? I never meet the buyers. I’m not really the customer service type, you know?”
“Don’t be silly, he is a very exclusive client, and he has an…interest in meeting the person who procured the object.”
“I really don’t think–.”
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“I don’t pay you to think, Ms. McAllister. I pay you to do your job, and right now, this is part of your job.”
Hope sighed, thinking of rent, her brothers hospital bills, the doctor visits and prescriptions that all had to happen soon.
“Right, sir. Sorry, of…of course, I’ll take care of it.”
“Great, he’ll be waiting at the Café du Monde, one o’clock sharp. Don’t be late.”
“Don’t wor…” She let her words trail off as she realized he had already hung up. He really wasn’t a very pleasant man, her employer whom she only knew is “Mr. Jones”, which she was fairly certain was a fake name.
She glanced at the time on her cell phone. Damn, she only had twenty minutes to get to the café. Enough to walk downtown from where she was at, but not enough to go back to her apartment where she had hidden the book, and bring it to the drop off.
Something told her it was better to keep it hidden anyways, and with that thought, Hope set off towards the café to meet with the man who wanted to buy the stolen manuscript.
She reached the café with barely a minute to spare, looking over her shoulder for the entire short walk, pausing several times to try and hear anything suspicious or out of place. She couldn’t put her finger on it but something was making Hope nervous, and she had learned over the years to trust her instincts.
She neared the café, looking for the man that Mr. Jones had said would be wearing a blue sports coat. Not a lot to go by, she thought sarcastically as she spied no less than three men wearing blue coats sitting in the café.
She swept her eyes once more over the crowd, and her breath caught. No, no way. It can’t be him. Against her will, her brown gaze drank in the sight of his muscled arms and broad chest, which she knew had rock hard pecs and matching abs hidden under the black t-shirt he wore.
His light blond hair was exactly the same as she remembered, short, but longer on the top and tousled looking, as if she had just run her fingers through it. And his icy blue eyes, like a crisp winter day, staring at her with hard intent.
Her pulse raced madly, as she looked around, quickly trying to assess her exit strategy but it was too late. Hope knew it was too late for her the second her eyes had met Valentines.
She ducked around a couple still waiting in line to entire the crowded café, and headed towards the back of the building, hoping to lose him in the rabbit warren of loading docks and back alleys that ran behind the downtown businesses. Before she had taken more than a few steps, she felt a hard, but gentle, grasp on her upper arm, dragging her to a halt.
“Let go of me, Valentine.”
“Hmm, let me think about that.” She bit back a frustrated sigh as her body melted at the sound of his voice, deep, husky, and thick with an accent that she heard every night in her dreams. “No. No, I don’t think I will let you go, Hope.”
True to his word, he kept his hand wrapped firmly around her, directing her across the street with his entire body. His message was clear. Either cooperate, or be dragged.
Trying for some semblance of control, she quickened her pace, trying to keep up with his long strides, pretending they were just a normal couple, out for a walk. Hah!
She cast a sideways glance at his face, taking in the tense jawline and clenched teeth, the hard look in his blue eyes. No, there was nothing about them that was normal.
When they had met in Moscow, it had been a whirlwind affair. She had been there for a job, and he, well, he had swept her off her feet despite her best intentions not to let it happen.
And now, suddenly, he was here, shockingly here, and her system didn’t seem to know how to handle it. The familiar, spicy scent of him wrapped around her, enclosing her in his essence, and she could feel his hand on her, even gentler now that she’d stopped struggling. The pad of his thumb swept slowly back and forth against her skin in an unconscious move she doubted Valentine was even aware of.
But she was. The slight touch was sending massive shockwaves through her body, reminding her of all the delicious hours they had spent tangled together in his high-rise penthouse. He had showed her a glimpse of his life, so different from her own.
Before she knew what was happening, they were in front of an exclusive hotel, walking in through the lobby, and Valentine ushered her into the elevator. She grabbed her arm away and sent him a murderous glare for his high-handed behavior.
“Really, Valentine. Was that all necessary? What are you even doing here? Why did–.”
“Shh.” His voice cut her off, fueling her irritation, and wariness. “We can’t talk here, not yet.”
“What? Why?” He just gave her a look, staring at her with those hard blue eyes, eyes that she had seen on fire with lust, with humor, with affection. She regretted the loss of that, but she knew it was her own fault. Hope had earned his trust, and then betrayed him. Now she had to live the consequences.
They arrived at the top floor, and exited, moving down a short hallway to a suite on the left. Valentine opened the door, and held it open for her, gesturing for Hope to enter ahead of him.
Warily, she walked through the door. He was on her instantly, his arms like steel bands around her, his mouth voracious as his lips battled with hers. Fire flooded her bloodstream, making her lightheaded as she leaned her whole body against him, reveling in the feel of his hardness surrounding her again.
She hadn’t realized how much she had missed this, how much she had regretted that she would never feel his touch, his kiss. For a moment, she allowed herself to forget. The guilt that ate at her for hurting him, for leaving him. The knowledge that she had torn apart the only good thing to happen to her in a long time, destroying his trust when she had taken the book and left. The niggling fear that there was more, much more, to the reason that he was really there.
That thought had her pulling back from the kiss, breathless, the euphoria of his mouth hard on hers slowly replaced with a feeling of trepidation. She knew she had to ask him questions, and she also knew that she didn’t want the answers.
“Valentine.”
“Hush, let me get a drink. Then we’ll talk.” He walked over to a small, but fully stocked bar and poured himself a finger of premium scotch, drinking it, and then pouring another for him and one for her.
He brought her the glass, and she took it, but didn’t drink any of it. She wouldn’t be drinking any alcohol for a while, she thought with another jolt of fear. She had just started to figure things out, make plans for her future, but her entire world felt turned upside down. Hope never expected to see Valentine again.
Hope to a deep, fortifying breath.
“What are you doing here?” He raised a brow at her, and she blushed a deep scarlet.
“Really, Hope, the question is what are you doing here? I’m the one who should be asking questions, not you.”
“Listen, it’s complicated–.”
“Hah! It’s not complicated at all!” his words slowly gained momentum as his anger bubbled to the surface. “You fucked me, you stole from me, and then…then you just left me.”
She flinched at each accusation, not knowing what to say. It was the truth.
“I…We…I never meant to sleep with you, Valentine, that just…it just happened.” Hope huffed out, still unable to explain how that had happened to herself. She was always detached, professional. There was just something about him that was impossible for her to resist.
“What, I was like a perk or something?” A bitter laugh burst from Hopes chest.
“No! You were…you were a complication. You are a complication.” She shook her head as she set the glass down, still untouched. “I shouldn’t even be here. You shouldn’t be here. We–.”
“I get it, we shouldn’t be here,” His deep voice interrupted, “but we are. Just be honest with me hope, tell me what happened, I want to understand. Were you in trouble or something? Is that why you took that old, dusty book?”
“Old, dusty book?” She laughed again, this time incredulous. “On
ly a billionaire would call a centuries old, incredibly rare and valuable manuscript an ‘old, dusty book’.”
Hope took a step back, and then another.
“It was just a job, okay? That’s why I was there in the first place. It was just my luck that the person who owned it was…you.” She had been about to say irresistible, but just barely held it in. “I have to go, I can’t tell you anything, okay?”
“No, don’t go, we have to talk.” He reached for her wrist but she moved away before he could grab it.
“There’s nothing else to talk about, Valentine. My hands are tied. In a few hours that manuscript will be out of the country.” She didn’t mention that currently, it was stashed in her safe place in her apartment.
She had her hand on the delicate brass knob, turned it, and had the door open an inch before Valentine was there, holding it closed.
“Let me leave. I have a meeting to get to.”
“With another criminal? What are you doing, Hope? You’re so much better than this.”
His softly spoken words had her heart breaking all over again.
“Please, just…We’ll talk later, okay?” Hope needed time to figure out what to tell him, how to tell him. She felt scraped raw at the moment.
With a sigh, he released the door, recognizing the stubborn look in her eyes. The one that told him she wouldn’t give in. Hope was just closing the door when she heard his soft whisper.
“Be careful, zvezda moya.”
Her breath caught painfully in her chest at the sound of his nickname for her. It meant his star. Brushing away the tear, Hope smoothed the front of her skirt unnecessarily, and headed back to the café hoping that she wasn’t too late.
Chapter 4
By the time Hope got back to the café, any sign of Mr. Blue Sports Coat was gone. She tried to reach out to her seller, Mr. Jones, but had no luck with him either. She took the bus back to her studio apartment, and stayed there, restless, for the rest of the afternoon. It took all her will power not to check the manuscript where she had it hidden in a false ceiling tile she had fabricated, but the strange way things were unfolding around the valuable object had her leaving it be, untouched.
