by Kim Baldwin
She gestured politely toward the door. “Ready to go?”
*
The pain medication had kept him in a semi-drowsy and lethargic state since the explosion, but Theo Lang insisted he be kept informed about the major cases involving his department and the Joint Task Force. So when a nurse roused him at six a.m. to tell him that FBI Special Agent George Dombrowski was on the phone for him, he knew something major had happened and tried his best to focus.
“Lang,” he said through his broken teeth. The nurse held the phone awkwardly, trying not to touch his battered face but keeping it close enough for him to hear.
“Dombrowski here, Theo. We’ve had several major developments. First and foremost, Philippe and Claudia Cluzet have been located and are now in protective custody in Indianapolis.”
“Indianapolis?”
“Yes. Philippe got tipped that Cinzano had a contract out on them both, and he and the daughter took off. They’ve been living in a motel, but his cash finally ran out and he had to use a credit card.”
“Who tipped him?” Theo asked.
“Someone close to Cinzano, but he’s not saying who yet,” Dombrowski reported. “Cluzet is scared. He says he sold part of his building to the mob because they threatened him. But he got to like the money he was scoring from the arrangement, and Martinelli sent business his way. Seems like he made some friends among the wiseguys he made travel arrangements for. We’re still talking to him, but it looks like he’ll have some valuable information for us.”
“Maybe they should be in the program.” Theo spoke slowly, over-enunciating every word. “I can send an Inspector down there any time, so keep me posted.”
“Will do.”
“You got Fletcher yet?” Theo managed. The nurse gave him a weary look and shifted the phone to her other hand.
“Yes. He’s talking his ass off, trying to make a deal. He’s been under the mob’s thumb for more than a year, since he was in your job, but claims he’s been wanting out for a long time. They were paying him big, and we think they may have been blackmailing him with something, but he’s not saying what, yet. He did admit to the leaks. And by the way, he says they forced him to push Alexi Nikolos out of WITSEC after the Sofia Galletti murder.”
That explained a lot. Fletcher probably got demoted because somebody upstairs got wind things weren’t right but had no proof. So there was a connection between their changes of fate after all.
“Did he say why they wanted Nikolos gone?” Theo asked.
“Thought she was learning too much about the family,” Dombrowski said.
“Anything else?” The pain medication was pulling him back to sleep.
Dombrowski hesitated. “Yeah.”
Theo became more alert immediately, sensing the agent had saved the weightiest news till last. “Just say it.”
“Cinzano’s getting sprung this morning,” Dombrowski blurted. “Probably within the next hour or two.”
“Damn,” Theo cursed.
“Also…Keller and Nikolos took a British Air flight from Toronto to London, traveling under forged passports.”
“London! They’re in Europe?” Theo was so agitated by the news it came out Undun! Air in Erip? But Dombrowski was good at translating.
“Yes. We’re starting to call hotels.”
Theo searched his memory. Something about London and Alexi was niggling at him, but the pain medication made it impossible to retrieve it from his memory.
“Mr. Lang.” The nurse scowled.
“Better go,” Lang mumbled, already half asleep. “Ask my secretary to look through Alexi’s personnel file for any known family, friends, or business dealings in the U.K., and to call me with whatever she finds.”
“Will do.” Dombrowski disconnected.
A plan was beginning to take shape in the back of Theo’s mind. Yup. That has definite possibilities.
*
Alexi spent most of dinner trying to look everywhere but at Blayne’s cleavage, counting the minutes until they could leave the all-too-romantic restaurant she’d chosen for the welcome diversion of some theatrical entertainment. But it was impossible to ignore entirely how alluring Blayne was in that delicious second skin of a dress. It accentuated her breasts far too well.
They talked about their day, and the sights they had left to see. “Aren’t you going to call your sister while you’re here?” Blayne asked over dessert. “You did say she lives north of London, didn’t you?”
“In York. Two hours and some by train, three or four by car. And yes, I have considered it. But there is perhaps a risk in contacting her.” Alexi set down her fork. She hadn’t seen her sister in several months, and truthfully would love the opportunity to spend time with her. “Only a slight one, I think, but Cinzano has an unbelievable reach, as evidenced by his ability to put a bomb near your seat. And to find us in Canada. It is possible that he knows that I am with you, and also possible he could track down my family. If by chance he learns we took a plane to London, it is conceivable he might have someone watching my sister, or monitoring her calls.”
Blayne’s eye widened. “You think that’s possible?”
“Anything is possible,” Alexi responded. “Likely? Probably not. But I have to guard against whatever is possible. It is not worth the risk to your safety. Or hers.”
“But I know you’d probably like to see her, wouldn’t you?”
Alexi shrugged. “Another time.”
“You know…” Blayne bit her lower lip thoughtfully. “I find it hard to believe that you can’t come up with a clever way to get word to her somehow…without them knowing it’s you. If they are listening, I mean. Maybe get her to meet us somewhere?”
Alexi leaned back in her chair and was quiet for a long while. A visit with her sister sounded even more attractive than usual right now, though she wasn’t sure why. And it might not be a bad idea to get her away from her house, if indeed it was being watched. And she knew a way to do it. “That is not a bad suggestion, Blayne.”
She paid their bill and they caught a taxi to Leicester Square, where they scored two seventh-row center seats to Les Miserables at the half-price theater ticket booth. The musical started in a half-hour, and it was only a short walk up Shaftesbury Avenue to the Queen’s Theatre, so they were settled into their seats in plenty of time.
“So have you seen a lot of musical theater?” Alexi asked. The curved seats, normally quite comfortable, were not designed to accommodate weaponry near one’s spine. Her gun was pressing uncomfortably into the small of her back, but she wanted to wait until the lights dimmed to move it.
“Oh, yes, I love it.” Blayne skimmed her program. “I see…saw…a lot of the nationwide touring shows with Claudia, as they came through Chicago.” Thinking of Claud infused sadness into what had been a wonderful day and evening. One of the most memorable in her life, in fact.
Blayne had booked so many trips to London for other people that she knew quite a lot about the attractions of the city. It was like making a dream come true to finally see it all firsthand, and seeing it with Alexi had made the experience all the more special.
They had wonderful chemistry, and Alexi had never looked hotter than she did right now. She sure has a way of wearing her clothes. Blayne had noticed heads turn their way when they entered the restaurant, men and women both, and when they crossed the lobby of the theater to get their tickets. You can’t help but look at her.
And her own black dress had been the perfect choice. Alexi’s gaze had not strayed far from her breasts and ass all night.
The lights dimmed and the show began, but Blayne could not keep her mind entirely on the misfortunes of nineteenth century France with such a beguiling woman so near.
She reached over and took Alexi’s hand in hers, and was immensely pleased that Alexi did not withdraw.
*
Why am I holding her hand? Alexi kept asking herself, only vaguely aware of the singing and dancing now in full swing on the stage. Because
it just feels right seemed the only answer that fit, and she didn’t understand that at all. Holding hands was the sort of sentimental twaddle that she never engaged in, unless it was to suit some purpose.
But then again, many of her reactions and responses to Blayne were atypical of her usual behavior. I am developing feelings for this woman, she realized. And I cannot fuck them away like I usually do.
She knew it was her pattern, and she was not apologetic about it. She treated the women she bedded very well. They always had a wonderful time and always wanted more, but they knew from the outset that it was just for an evening. Once she had taken a woman, she could distance herself from her. It was a pleasant act, a nice evening, now concluded. No strings.
With Blayne, there was nothing but denied desire. She had not been able to have sex with her immediately and get her out of her system. And that had made it possible for an attachment to be formed and for feelings to develop.
The realization was extremely unsettling, because Alexi knew those feelings would likely continue to grow the more time they spent together. She was in trouble, and the more she felt for Blayne, the less able she would be to resist Blayne’s constant efforts to seduce her.
We cannot go on like this. She hoped that her plans for later tonight would alleviate the situation somewhat. At the very least, it had to help diffuse the sexual urgency that was making it difficult for her to concentrate on her responsibilities.
Lost in her thoughts, she failed to immediately react when Blayne started moving their enjoined hands. Before she knew it, her fingers were resting on Blayne’s upper thigh, her naked upper thigh, beneath her dress. And Blayne’s hand was atop hers, trapping it there.
Her sex twitched and grew hard. Gamoto.
Blayne shifted slightly so that her hips pushed upward, encouraging firmer contact. She knew she shouldn’t be doing this but despite her good intentions about not pressuring Alexi, she yearned for her. Alexi’s hand on her thigh was warm, and soft, and unbearably close to where she needed it most. Blayne sucked in a breath and held it. The drumming of her heartbeat was so loud in her ears it played a convincing counterpoint to the rhythm of the music on the stage as she waited to see what Alexi would do.
Lifting her hips once again to press against Alexi’s touch, she half-turned to watch her. Predictably, Alexi’s focus remained fixed on the stage, but the tension in her body was unmistakable. There was no doubt that Blayne was having an effect on the intrepid WITSEC Inspector. The rapid rise and fall of Alexi’s chest was testament to that.
She shifted her hand to edge Alexi’s fingers a few inches closer to the apex of her thighs, and that finally provoked Alexi to turn in her direction.
Despite the dim lighting, Blayne could see the hunger in her eyes. And something else, too. Something that looked like pain.
“Please,” Alexi whispered. “No.”
Blayne leaned toward her until their faces were only a few inches apart. “Please yes,” she answered in a low voice, as she pulled Alexi’s hand still closer and opened her legs a few inches. Alexi had only to extend her fingers and she would be able to touch the evidence of her arousal. Her panties were uncomfortably damp.
Time stood still as she waited for Alexi’s reaction. In the dark silence of a shift between scenes, as the audience waited for the stage lights to come up and the play to resume, she heard Alexi’s rapid, labored breathing, and her heart soared. Yes. Oh, yes. Tonight is definitely the night. God, I will be so ready by the time we get back to the hotel.
But even as the certainty of it sent a shudder of delight through her body, Alexi withdrew her hand and sat up stiffly in her seat.
As the evening continued, Blayne tried to return to the undemanding physical closeness they’d had earlier, but Alexi evaded her attempts at hand-holding and sat statue-like, refusing to acknowledge her. Blayne could tell, however, that her mind was not on the play at all, for she failed to laugh at the clever lines and bits on stage that engaged everyone else, and was noticeably behind in the applause at the end of every scene. She has got to be just as horny as I am. There is just no way that she is not. Maybe she’s just waiting for some privacy.
So, in the taxi going back to the hotel, she still had high hopes that they would only need one of the two bedrooms in their suite tonight. But Alexi dashed those expectations the moment they stepped over the threshold.
“It was a pleasant evening, Blayne. But I am very tired and ready to turn in.” She kicked off her shoes and wearily removed her jacket. “I advise you to do the same. It has been a very long day and it will do you well to get adjusted to the time change.”
Blayne frowned in disappointment, but Alexi never saw it. She said her piece and retired to her bedroom without looking back or awaiting any kind of response.
Damn. Damn. Damn. Blayne sucked in several deep breaths in an effort to dispel the anger and frustration coiling low in her belly. She did it again. I swear to God that woman is going to make me implode if she keeps this up.
Chapter Nineteen
Vittorio Cinzano smoothed his hand over his hair, and gave his reflection in the tiny mirror its first smile of approval in several days. Getting back in his suit made him feel almost like his old self again, but he was still impatient to regain his freedom. That fucking bitch will pay for putting me through this.
His first priority would be to assign whatever resources it took to put an end to this bullshit, once and for all. Information could always be had, and anyone could be found, if the price was right. He had no intention of spending another night locked up.
He heard the now familiar clang of metal that foretold the imminent arrival of his jailers and smiled. Finally. Time to go home.
*
Theo’s stature within WITSEC helped cut through a lot of red tape, and he was on a Learjet headed for Chicago less than forty-eight hours after the explosion that would leave him unable to eat solid food for nearly two months.
A private air transport service, Ambulair Unlimited, was contracted to supply him with an R.N., a secure and comfortable hospital bed, and every sort of medical paraphernalia that might be required en route. A cardiac monitor and oxygen, bandages and IVs. His secretary had also made calls to expedite his processing through customs at both Sault Ste. Marie and in Chicago. As a result, he was settled into his new accommodations within Northwestern Memorial Hospital’s step-down ICU before the end of the day.
Theo could hardly wait for a time when he’d finally be done with intensive care, and as far away as possible from the naso-gastric tube that had been threaded up his nose and down into his stomach. It was uncomfortable as hell, and it tethered him to a noisy pumping machine he wanted to throw out the window.
He asked the doctor examining him, an attractive Hispanic woman, if the machine was really necessary.
“Yes, I’m afraid so,” she responded. “With your jaw wired shut, there’s a danger you could vomit, and choke…so we need to keep your stomach empty until you can begin to tolerate clear liquids.” She held up a pair of wire cutters that had been placed beside his bed when he had been moved to the ICU. “It’s also why we always have these nearby. So we can get your mouth open in a hurry if we need to free your airway.”
“And how long before I can actually go home?” he asked.
“A few days, maybe a week. Sooner if you have someone at home who can assist you as needed.”
“I do.”
“Then I would guess three or four days perhaps. We’ll decide based on your progress.”
Theo fell silent, crystallizing his plans. The latest report from Dombrowski had been most encouraging. Philippe Cluzet had given them just what he needed to entice Blayne back to the States. Now all they had to do was come up with a way to get in touch with Blayne and Alexi and the rest would fall into place.
Dombrowski had been apprised of Theo’s move and was led into the room as soon as the doctor had completed her preliminary evaluation.
“Welcome back,” h
e greeted Theo as pulled the nearest visitor chair closer to the bed. “Well, you look like hell. How you feeling?”
“Fucking Fabulous. What a comedian.”
The response was intended to produce a chuckle, and it did. Theo actually liked Dombrowski quite a lot, and in the course of their association on the Cinzano matter had considered more than once trying to lure him over to WITSEC full time. He added a rare and necessary human touch to the cases he worked, a real deep-seated concern for the innocent civilians he came in contact with.
“So, I’m here,” Dombrowski said unnecessarily. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”
“You’re going to deliver a message for me,” Theo said, pacing his words so he could cope with the misery of speech. “I’d put one of my own people on this, but my sources tell me you’re the right man for this job because she trusts you.”
Dombrowski perked up. “She?”
“Blayne Keller. The other agents tell me she took to you. Trusted you. They right?” Theo studied the agent’s face.
“Well, I think we hit it off pretty well, sure,” Dombrowski agreed.
“Great. Because I think I’ve come up with a way to get her back here and into WITSEC, so we can proceed against Cinzano. Here’s what I want you to do.”
*
Alexi closed her bedroom door and leaned back against it, taking deep breaths. Her body was stretched tight and screaming for attention. She knew she should allow a reasonable amount of time for Blayne to go to sleep but every minute of delay was a struggle.
Forcing herself to wait fifteen minutes before she telephoned, she was careful to keep her voice low. As she hoped and expected, it took no convincing at all to arrange for a discreet rendezvous in less than an hour. Enough time, she hoped, for Blayne to fall fast and soundly asleep.
