Licensed to Thrill [Clandestine Affairs 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Zara Chase

  Hal grinned. “Baby, you have no idea!”

  And such a question would earn her a good spanking, under normal circumstances. Just as well these circumstances were far from normal. Milo so didn’t want to make this thing personal, but was already fighting a rearguard action. He glanced up at Jodie and happened to catch her magnetic gaze head-on. Her eyes widened as she caught him looking, and he felt himself drowning in their worried brown depths. It was the concern—the fragility, vulnerability, or whatever the hell it was—he detected beneath her tough exterior that so got to him. The urge to reach out and touch her, to make her understand she was no longer alone, was tough to resist.

  Damn it, there was just something about her that compelled him, even if she was hopelessly idealistic, rude, and opinionated. He and Hal never had problems attracting women, and certainly didn’t need the hassle of all the emotional baggage this one carried with her. So what if she appeared to be able to heat his blood, flame his passions, and make him consider throwing the rule book out the window.

  He’d get over his mild obsession, and life would get back to normal.

  * * * *

  Ten minutes later Jodie sat in the same interview room she had been taken to before, only this time she wasn’t alone. Milo’s reassuring presence made all the difference in the world, even if he didn’t appear to like her, or believe in her innocence. She had been allowed to use the restroom before the interview started, begged a comb from a sympathetic female guard, and splashed water over her face. She still felt like shit, but at least there was room for a little optimism now. She glanced at Milo’s handsome profile, taking comfort from his intelligence and no-nonsense attitude. His body language exuded confidence, causing her to feel a whole lot better about the world. If she had to be in this situation, there was no one she would prefer to have fighting in her corner.

  It was obvious Milo didn’t want to be here, that he didn’t much approve of her, or what she stood for. She had wasted more hours than was healthy imagining accidently bumping into him on the street and having him fall headlong in love with her. She glanced down at her shabby clothes, and expelled a cynical little laugh. Things couldn’t have turned out more differently.

  Milo was no longer the same person she remembered. He was harder, less willing to trust, as though his experiences as a soldier had altered him. Those experiences had left lines on his rugged features that added to his allure. His voice hadn’t changed at all, though. She’d been twelve when she first heard his clipped, upper-class British accent. It had captivated her then, and had lost none of its ability to enthrall during the ensuing decade.

  If only he would lighten up a bit. She knew the situation was serious, but she was innocent, and refused to believe she wouldn’t walk out of here shortly, a free woman. The only sign that Milo had seen her as a woman was when their gazes had briefly clashed earlier. She saw something in his eyes then—interest, recognition—something other than derision. A kernel of unfamiliar sensation curled through her when he was slow to avert his gaze. Jodie realized then that she didn’t give a shit what the authorities thought about her activities. She wouldn’t lose any sleep if she screwed up her father’s political career, either. All that mattered was that she somehow convince Milo and his hunky buddy Hal that she was not a terrorist.

  Suddenly, nothing in this world mattered more.

  “Ready?” he asked when the door opened and the same two detectives who had tried to grill her earlier took seats opposite them.

  “As I ever will be.”

  “Don’t worry. Just remember what we agreed.”

  Like I’d ever forget anything you said to me.

  The detectives asked if Jodie minded the interview being recorded. Milo answered for her, saying they had no objections. Names, dates, and times were stated for the record. Then it began. She followed Milo’s advice, keeping her responses short and to the point. She was acutely conscious of his muscled thigh, encased in exquisitely tailored pants, mere inches from her grubby jeans. She was sure she could feel the heat emanating from those thighs, seeping into her bones, and curling around her damaged heart. The strong, magnetic pull she felt toward a man who didn’t like her very much—make that not at all—intensified. Heat invaded her gut whenever he glanced at her, and she was filled with renewed determination to say and do whatever he asked her to—even if it went against her beliefs—just to have him smile at her.

  Milo let her speak for herself, only interrupting very occasionally if the detectives went too far. Once or twice he touched her thigh, warning her to stay on topic, and not start a political rant—one of her many failings. The hell with that! If ranting was what it took to have Milo touch her, then she’d set up her own soapbox next chance she got and climb right on board.

  It must have gone on for an hour. The questions became repetitive, Jodie felt sleep deprivation catching up with her, and Milo finally interjected.

  “My client has answered everything,” he said. “You have no direct evidence linking her to Spectrum.”

  “Well, we—”

  “If you did, you would have thrown it into the ring by now.”

  “She was there, with those people.”

  “No law against that,” Milo replied. “She’s also very high profile, and I don’t think our American cousins will take kindly to your arresting one of their own on such flimsy evidence.”

  “We don’t let things like that influence us.”

  “Well you should. Someone in this station leaked her name to the press.” Jodie’s head shot up. This was news to her. “I had to run the gauntlet of press photographers to get in here today.”

  “We don’t care who her daddy is,” one of the detectives sneered. “She gets treated the same as all the rest.”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Milo shot back. “But you’ve asked your questions, she’s answered them, so what happens now? You don’t have enough to charge her—”

  “Yet. Our enquiry isn’t complete.”

  “You don’t have enough to charge her, and have no grounds to apply for an extension.”

  “Our forty-eight hours aren’t up yet.”

  “You can hold her for another night, if it makes you feel better, but you and I both know she has nothing of value to give you.” Milo glowered at the hapless pair. “You’re pissing in the wind, gentlemen.”

  The verbal sparring went on for a while. Jodie said nothing, watching Milo’s lovely mouth, fascinated by the way his sculpted lips moved when he spoke, wondering how they would feel if he moved them the same way over her body.

  “She’s a flight risk,” one of the detectives said. “She only has a rented flat in London, with no real ties to the community. She has a wealthy family on the other side of the pond who could easily arrange for her to be spirited out of the country.”

  “Her father hopes to be elected to the senate, so I can’t see him doing that,” Milo replied. “And she won’t go back to her flat. I’ll take responsibility for her.”

  He will?

  Eventually the detectives agreed to release her on police bail.

  “What does that mean?” Jodie asked.

  “It means you won’t be charged with anything—”

  “What a relief. Thank you, Milo!”

  “Don’t thank me yet. They’re still investigating, and if they come up with anything, then could still charge you.”

  She jutted her chin. “There’s nothing for them to come up with.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Why won’t you believe me?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe. It’s what they can prove, or think they can, that matters.”

  “Oh.”

  “You will have to surrender your passport, report to the police every day, and not have anything to do with your fellow arrestees, or any other questionable groups for that matter.”

  “Okay, I get it. I have to lay low for a while. But why can’t I go back to my flat?”

  “You wo
n’t get a moment’s peace. The press has got wind of this, and they’d hound you night and day. I don’t think that would please Daddy.”

  “Fuck Daddy.”

  Her language, or perhaps her venom, clearly surprised him. He sent her a considering look, made no comment, but still didn’t smile.

  “Where shall I live then?”

  “You can move in with Hal and me until this is over. We have a spare room.”

  “You guys live together.” Shit, she hadn’t pegged him as being gay. “Won’t I be in the way?”

  “We don’t live together in the manner you seem to think,” he replied caustically. “Come on, there will be papers to sign, then we’ll get you out of here.”

  “Where’s Hal?”

  “Bringing the car around the back, so we can avoid the press.”

  “Oh, but I’d like to—”

  “Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said?” His sigh was loud and prolonged. “You say nothing to the press, absolutely nothing. If you do, I walk. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  His lips actually twitched at that one. It wasn’t a smile exactly, but it was a start.

  “That would be sir with a capital S,” he replied mildly.

  “What!”

  Ten minutes later, Jodie’s purse had been returned to her. She checked the contents and found everything was there. Milo cast a professional eye over the papers she was asked to sign, and the conditions under which they were prepared to grant her bail. She signed when he told her she could.

  “Okay,” he said, taking her elbow. “Let’s get the hell out of here. Always a pleasure, gentlemen,” he added over his shoulder to the hovering detectives who stood, arms crossed, scowling at them.

  “I’ll need some clothes from my place,” she said, sliding into the backseat of a shiny new Range Rover with Hal behind the wheel. “I feel dirty, and…well, like I spent the night in a cell.”

  “Give me your flat keys,” Milo replied, getting into the passenger seat. “Hal will drop us home, then go on to yours and pick up the things you’ll need.”

  “How will you know what I need, Hal?”

  His deep, rich laugher echoed around the cabin of the car. “What’s the matter, babe? Don’t you like surprises?”

  Hal’s amusement was infectious and she found herself laughing as well. “Okay then, hot shot, do your worst.”

  As she passed the keys through the gap in the front seats she caught Milo’s glance lingering on her wrist.

  “Glad it healed okay,” he said.

  Hell, he remembered her! Jodie gasped when he looked back at her and sent her an exaggerated wink, accompanied by a heated smile that went straight to her pussy.

  Chapter Four

  “Okay, Hal,” Milo said when his buddy stopped the car outside their Battersea apartment building. “Make sure you check Jodie’s place out thoroughly.”

  “You want me to leave anything I find where it is?”

  “Of course.”

  “What are you guys talking about?” Jodie asked as Milo opened the car door for her. “What do you expect to find?”

  Hal waved and drove off, leaving Milo alone with Jodie. He was annoyed with himself for winking at her, unsure what impulse had made him do it. Despite the fact that his cock had taken a shine to her, Ms. Bisset needed to be kept at arm’s length. She spelled the sort of trouble Milo could definitely do without. He pressed the code to open the main front door to the building, and ushered Jodie into the spacious foyer ahead of him.

  “Wow!” He stood behind her, watching as she rotated her head, trying to take it all in. “This is quite some place.”

  Milo tried to see the marble foyer through her eyes. All the mirrors, plants, and discreet art on the walls had impressed him, too, first time he’d seen it. There was an arrangement of soft furniture and low tables to one side, where visitors could wait, but no doorman. Instead the place was protected by state-of-the-art security devices, some of which Milo and Hal had installed themselves and the other residents knew nothing about.

  “This used to be a warehouse,” he replied, leading her toward the elevator. “It was redeveloped for housing some years ago. I happened to be in the right place at the right time, and picked up the penthouse at rock-bottom price. Battersea wasn’t a safe area then, so it was a bit of a gamble that just happened to pay off.”

  “I’ll bet it did.”

  Milo placed his key in the slot that would take the elevator direct to the penthouse. He only discovered when it was too late to do anything about it that being alone with Jodie in such a confined space was another bad idea. He’d been trying to ignore his growing attraction toward her by reminding himself of her foolish ideology. It wasn’t working. Something stronger than his own will deprived him of the ability to hold that thought. She looked up at him, her lips shiny and moist, just as the elevator jerked into motion and their hands touched. Her eyes widened, as though she too felt an electric charge had passed between them. Shit, this was so going to end badly!

  “You didn’t answer my question,” she said in a soft, throaty voice. “What must Hal leave where it is?”

  Before he could respond, the elevator reached its destination and the doors slid smoothly open, directly into Milo’s open-plan loft.

  “Wow!” Jodie said for a second time. “This is awesome.”

  “Glad you like it.”

  “What’s not to like? Especially that view.” She stood by the full-length windows that looked directly over the Thames. A barge slowly made its way up the river, belching smoke. A pleasure craft came the opposite way, two bikini-clad women sprawled over the foredeck, making the most of the hot weather. “This place is huge,” she said, turning in a full circle, taking in the bleached-oak furniture, the open-plan kitchen, and the dining table that could comfortably seat a dozen.

  “I’ll give you the guided tour in a moment. But first, to answer your question, Hal will check your bedsit for listening devices.”

  Her expression was incredulous, all wide eyes and slack mouth. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Afraid not.” He removed his jacket and threw it across a chair. “Think about it. If this was a setup, then the people who did it will want to keep tabs on you. Speaking of which, turn your cell phone off.”

  “Why?”

  “Your location can be traced all the time it’s switched on.”

  Jodie reached into her bag, found her phone, and made a big deal out of switching it off. “I think you’ve watched too many spy movies.”

  “Don’t you ever do as you’re told?”

  “I have a questioning mind.” She shrugged. “Not my fault. Anyway, I think you’re way overreacting.”

  “Am I?” He shot her a look. “It isn’t me that just got arrested.”

  “Okay, point made. But how will anyone reach me if my phone’s off?”

  “Who are you expecting to hear from? Your family knows to call me, and you’re not allowed to contact any of your radical friends.”

  “They are not radicals!”

  “Whatever. You can use the landline here if you need to make calls, but make sure you suppress the number, and don’t give it out or tell anyone where you are.”

  “Why do you suppose I was the target…if I was?” she asked.

  “Why do you?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t necessarily.” She paced up and down the large loft, clearly trying to articulate her thoughts. “It’s just that my dad—well, let’s just say even control freaks feel intimidated by him.”

  “But he can’t control you?”

  “Right, and it drives him crazy. Still, it’s not my intention to derail his career.”

  “All I can tell you is the press knew all about your arrest before we even arrived to save your cute arse. If they knew, Daddy must know but, far as I can tell, he’s made no attempt to contact you, or to get you out.”

  “True.” She looked momentarily upset, but quickly
recovered. “But don’t forget the time difference.”

  “Jodie, your dad is a career diplomat. He could have set wheels in motion without leaving the comfort of his own bed.”

  “Yeah, and he probably has. He’ll know by now exactly what happened and will be covering his ass. The last thing he wants is for his delinquent daughter to mess up his political ambitions.”

  “You really hate him, don’t you?” Milo leaned against the breakfast bar and crossed his arms over his chest, curious about the depth of her animosity. “Mind you, if his first thought is for himself, I can’t say that I blame you.”

  “Hate is a strong word.” She canted her head, as though reassessing her feelings. “You want my take on what he’ll be doing now?”

  Milo nodded. “That would be useful.”

  “He’ll be setting his publicity people to spin the incident to his advantage. A daughter who cares about the underprivileged, isn’t afraid to voice her opinions and stand up for what she believes in, how proud he is of me because of it, blah de blah…” Jodie wrinkled her freckled nose. “The reverse is true, of course. He hates that I have causes. His attitude makes me sick to the stomach.”

  “Right, with good reason, I guess.” Milo levered his body away from the counter. “We’ll talk properly later, but right now I’m guessing you’re beat, and hungry, too. So am I. Let’s get some brunch going, then I’ll show you your room. You can shower, get some rest, and later the three of us can have a brain-storming session about your situation.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Jodie stifled a yawn with the back of her hand, bone weary now she was out of jail and, temporarily at least, free to live her life. “I’ll cook breakfast.”

  “Nah, leave it to me. I know where everything is.”

  “You sure? I don’t mind pulling my weight.”

  Before he could respond, Milo’s cell phone rang. “It’s overseas,” he said, checking the display. “Probably your brother. Irrationally, Milo really wanted it to be her old man, phoning because he cared, rather than to tear her a new one. He wasn’t holding his breath. “Hanson,” he said, answering the call. “Hey, Paul, how you doing? Yeah, she’s out, and she’s right here. Want to speak with her?”