The Gold Digger Gambit: A Honeytrap Inc. Romance

by Tabitha A Lane

  Marco rakes his hand through his hair and blows out a frustrated breath. “Okay, you got me.” He leans across the table and stares into my eyes. “But I’m not working alone. There are people who want you out, Kristie. Out of your husband’s life for good.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Marco

  “That’s ludicrous.” She gazes at me, wide eyed. “What people?”

  The assignment is blown to smithereens. Letting her know that Charles is behind my presence in the household will ignite a firestorm that will likely take me down in the conflagration. But I have no choice. Right now, she sees me as some disinherited guy with a grudge against gold diggers in general. Borderline unhinged.

  “I’m a private investigator. A specialist private investigator.”

  She casts me a sure-you-are sneer.

  “The company is called Honeytrap Inc., and it’s based in Seattle.”

  “Honeytrap?”

  “It’s my job to test the fidelity of wayward spouses. Or of people who are suspected to have the potential to cheat on their loved ones.”

  “My husband didn’t employ you.” She’s adamant.

  “His son, Charles, did.”

  “Charles sent you here to seduce me.” Her tone is angry. “You’re very good at your job, I almost gave in.”

  There’s a trace of hurt in her eyes, even though she tries to hide it. I remember the feel of her skin beneath my fingers, the burning need that compelled me to crush her body against mine. The sacred tenant of never sleeping with a target, always pulling back once the goal of showing their intent to cheat, had been willingly abandoned before she even joined me out here in the moonlight. When she appeared like a vision, clutching her delicate sandals in one hand, the need to claim her was desperate and urgent.

  I don’t care about my mission—I haven’t for days. And I can’t believe she loves the old guy, not when her body yielded to mine so willingly, when she kissed me as though I was the only man alive.

  “I’ve never fucked a target.”

  I hear her sharp intake of breath at my crude words.

  “I’ve never even considered it, until you.”

  “Should I be flattered?” She hides her shock with sarcasm. “That the great Marco Vitale considers me so attractive he’s prepared to bend his principles?”

  “Hear me out.” I reach across the table and grasp her hand. She’s not listening—she’s tied up in the details of why I was coming on to her rather than the broad strokes that forced us into each other’s orbit. “Charles believes you married his father for his money. He sent me to test your fidelity and intends to present his findings to his father in order to break you up. You said yourself Montgomery wouldn’t tolerate his wife cheating.”

  “Are there cameras? Are you recording this meeting?” She glances around, checking the shadows for a covert photographer. “I guess you got what you came for.” The look she gives me—total contempt, makes me feel dirty. As though I’m casting doubt on the love of Romeo and Juliet or something.

  “You don’t love your husband.”

  “Point me towards the camera or mic, I wouldn’t want you to miss this.”

  “I’m not recording. Or filming. There’s no one watching, and I have no intention of sharing what you say. Or what you do. I know you don’t love him. You can’t.” Doubts claw at my insides. How is she any different from the woman who snared my grandfather? Being Mrs. Patten for however long guarantees a payoff whether she’s caught cheating or not. It’s just a matter of degrees. If she can stay married long enough to be his heir then she’ll hit the jackpot.

  “You don’t have sex with him.” It’s a question, delivered as a statement. Because I want it to be true. I can’t imagine her creamy skin laid bare beneath his liver-spotted hands. I won’t. But Kristie Patten is a woman used to telling men what they want to hear. Making them believe her. Can anything she tells me from this moment on be taken as truth?

  “My sex life is none of yours—or Charles’ business.” She pulls her hand away. “I want you out of here tomorrow morning. If you go quietly, no one needs to know of your true mission working for our family. You can just crawl back under the rock you came from.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “You want me to have to tell my husband his son sent a private investigator to make me cheat?”

  It’s a no-win situation, this assignment is blown to hell. I’ll recuse myself from the case. Take that vacation time I’ve got coming. But I’m not leaving until she acknowledges that there’s something between us. That she wants me.

  “You responded to my mouth on you the way no woman would if she were in love with her husband.”

  Her full lips, even now, seem swollen from crushing against mine.

  She tucks an errant tendril of hair behind her ear and gazes at the dark water of the swimming pool. “You can’t possibly think that I’d ever let down my guard with you again. No matter what you say, I’ll always suspect you of trying to gain evidence to make Montgomery divorce me.”

  She’ll be with me again, I have no doubt about that. But for now, I concentrate on the matter at hand. “If I walk away, Charles will just send someone else. He’s determined to find the evidence he needs to take you out of the picture. Charles cares about his father. He doesn’t want him taken advantage of.”

  At that, Kristie throws back her head, and a light laugh ripples from her throat. “Oh, he cares all right. But not about Montgomery. Like the rest of his parasitical family, he cares about the money.” She stands. “Your assignment has failed. I’ll give you a couple of days to extricate yourself, but then you leave.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kristie

  Montgomery turns to me. “Have you ever been in a helicopter, Kristie?”

  We’re standing behind the glass patio door watching a small black executive helicopter hovering mere feet above the grass outside the window.

  “No.”

  “You’re going to love it.”

  My husband’s enthusiasm is infectious, and I can’t help but join him in a smile. Boys, no matter what their age it seems, love toys. A helicopter is the fastest way for us to make the journey back to Casa Nostra. Isabel and Marco left earlier this morning, travelling by road with our luggage. Stephen is joining us in the copter. I’m relieved to have a respite from Marco. Even when he’s not actually in the room with me, I’m aware of his presence in the villa. Waiting to see him.

  I still don’t know how to interpret the expression on his face last night while he spilled his secrets. I don’t know if I can, or should, believe anything he told me. His desire was unmistakeable, impossible to fake, but mixed with that was the undeniable hint of disquiet—or perhaps disgust at the reality of my marriage.

  I could have dispelled it in an instant by telling him that I was undercover too.

  But I’m not that trusting.

  Casa Nostra. It’s sad to know that the house Montgomery has spent the longest portion of his life in—once his refuge—has become the site of an attack that left him frightened and unsure of who to trust.

  Someone forced a pillow over his face.

  When I first joined his protection team, he was composed when he told the story of that terrible night. How he’d woken in a panic, flailing against his attacker. How he’d somehow managed to snatch his late wife’s security pendant from the bedside table and activate it.. The bell summoned Stephen. Who found Montgomery frantic and breathless—a discarded pillow on the floor next to his bed.

  The security system was checked. Every point of entry confirmed secure. But without the addition of cameras inside, the culprit couldn’t be discovered, except to say that the intruder was one of the family. That situation has been rectified now. Stephen secretly installed tiny wireless cameras throughout the house one morning in the early hours while everyone slept.

  One of Stephen’s staff is bringing us across the fields from the helipad in an old Jeep, and as we crest the hill, I see
tiny figures outside the mansion below.

  “It looks like we have a welcoming committee.” Montgomery grips the Jeep’s door handle tightly. There’s a look of trepidation on his face as he scans them. “I think I can make out Charles, Felicity, Amber, and that husband of hers. I guess we should be honoured they’ve decided to all come out to welcome us home.”

  His words tug at my heart. Most of his family seem to love him, in their own twisted ways, but one family member living in the house has murderous intent. The question is, which one?

  The engine sound is so loud there’s no possibility of being overheard by the driver, but I lean close and speak quietly into Montgomery’s ear anyway. “Maybe you should contact the police. Ask for their help to get to the bottom of this.”

  He shakes his head. “That won’t work. I know what they’ll say. That I’m an old man who imagined it.”

  “Stephen saw the pillow...”

  “There’s no evidence. No security systems were triggered—no intruders—nothing. The way we are going about this is the only possible solution. We have to prompt the attacker to strike again.”

  The road we’re travelling on is littered with potholes and barely more than a track. My bones are bouncing around like jumping beans in a sack. “You could get a swankier vehicle, you know, Montgomery.” The Jeep is at least twenty years old, and looks like the sort of thing you’d use on a safari in Africa.

  We hit a bump, there’s a loud crack, and at the same moment our driver slumps to the side and the car veers off the path.

  My gut churns in horror as the car heads straight through a patch of rough vegetation to a stand of trees. From the passenger seat, Stephen lunges for the wheel.

  I shove Montgomery’s head down toward his knees. “Brace yourself!”

  I must have blacked out for a moment. When I come to, my husband’s head is in my lap, and I’m cradling both sides of it in my hands. Even unconcious, I’m doing my job.

  “Kristie, are you okay?” Stephen is out of the car, wresting the door open. Steam fills the air from the engine, which must have been damaged when we slammed into the tree.

  “I’m okay.” Montgomery stirs. I help him up to sitting, then Stephen gets him out of the car. “I can get myself out. Help the driver.”

  The man in the front seat is groaning. He’s bleeding from a head wound—I hazily recall his head slamming off the car window when the Jeep lurched to the side so violently.

  My legs are shaking as I clamber out.

  Stephen has settled Montgomery on a patch of grass far enough from the car that it’s safe in case of fire. I’m on my way to join him when Marco reaches us.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Marco

  Isabel and I take a break when we hear the helicopter hovering overhead. The family is gathered on the front step ready to greet their patriarch. They’re far from a happy bunch. Amber and Jerry are having a bitching session to end all bitching session, and even though it’s barely eleven in the morning, Felicity seems to be on at least her second gin and tonic of the day.

  Charles is so desperate to make sure none of his relatives suspect that he and I know each other, he’s acting goddamned weird. Avoiding me. Not making eye contact. Any professional watching us interact would be sure there was something going on. They’d probably suspect an affair.

  Charles was married. But he sets my gaydar buzzing.

  The beaten up Jeep crests the hill. Four inhabitants: Kristie mostly hidden from view behind the driver. Then, suddenly, something goes wrong. The Jeep lurches to one side, and I can see the driver is incapacitated somehow.

  I’m running before they’ve even veered off the rough track.

  Stephen is barking into his phone, summoning an ambulance. Montgomery looks dazed, and certainly won’t make it as far as the house on foot. I don’t care about them.

  Kristie’s white. Her eyes are wide with shock, and she’s shaking. Without giving a fuck about who sees, or what conclusions they make about our relationship, I’m at her side in an instant, taking off my jacket and wrapping it around her delicate frame.

  “Are you hurt?” I brush the hair from her face, check her carefully for contusions. “Lean against me.” I pull her close and breathe in the scent of her hair. My heart’s hammering—whether as a result of the run up the incline to them or in response to the thought of Kristie being harmed, I don’t know. “Ambulance is on the way. Come. Sit.”

  She was heading to Montgomery, but I detour her to a different spot a little further away. One that affords us at least a modicum of privacy.

  “I don’t need an ambulance, I can walk.” Her jaw is set, but residual tremors still ripple through her body.

  “You’re in shock.” I wrap my arm around her as we sit.

  “Montgomery. He’s okay, isn’t he?”

  We can see him further downhill, closer to the house. Stephen has the injured driver sitting next to Montgomery, and is guiding the ambulance as far up the path as it can manage.

  “He seems fine. The driver got the worst of it.” I cup the side of her face, making her look at me. “Do you have any idea what happened?”

  “There was a noise. A grinding sound, then the Jeep lurched to the right, and the driver...” She thought for a moment. “I think he banged his head and got knocked out. Thank God Stephen has shit-hot reflexes, he grabbed the wheel before we hit the tree and managed to twist it.” Her gaze lingered over the destroyed vehicle. “If it had hit us straight on...” She shuddered.

  My arm tightened around her. “It didn’t. You’re safe.”

  A couple of paramedics were helping Montgomery and the driver into the ambulance. At least they’re walking wounded.

  “You need to get checked out.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Two options. You either get into that ambulance and let them do a thorough workup, or you suffer the humiliation of me carrying you down the hill and straight into the house past your scandalized stepchildren. Your choice.”

  I haven’t seen the smile that graces her mouth then before. It’s a soft smile. One a parent might give to an indulged child, or a favorite pet. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re a complete pain in the ass when you want to be?”

  I want to kiss her. Want to taste her mouth and drag her onto my lap and reassure myself that she’s okay. Instead, I have to content myself with looking her over, breathing her in.

  “Many. Many. Fucking. Times.” I wave over the returning paramedic, and help Kristie to her feet.

  I see her safely into the ambulance. There are no bones broken, but all three need to be taken to the hospital for further tests and checks, so I regroup and redirect my attention to the event leading up to the car crash. A quick consultation with Stephen matches Kristie’s estimation of what happened, so we hang back as the others proceed to the house.

  “Who maintains this vehicle?” As chauffeur, it’s a reasonable question. Neither Robert nor I have been employed for our mechanical expertise, but in general, if you’re going to be hired to drive a car, you need to know more than the basics of what makes it run.

  Stephen’s defensive. “It’s part of the regular fleet. I don’t know when it was last serviced—Robert would know.”

  “I’ll need access to the service records.”

  Side-eyes from Stephen.

  “If I’m to be expected to do my job, I need to have full oversight as to what happened here.” We’re walking back up the track, both of us examining the ground carefully for any clue as to why the vehicle failed. “It looks like mechanical error. Perhaps something shook loose on the rough ground.”

  “It’s a fucking Jeep,” Stephen bites back.

  A Jeep that might have been tampered with under his watch. But I resist the urge to counterparry. The guy has enough to worry about.

  “You want to keep your distance from Mrs Patten.” Stephen glances over, and stops walking.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I feel my fingers
start to curl into fists, and make a concentrated effort to relax them. “I made her sit down, that’s all.”

  “You were a little too intimate with her. A bit touchy-feely. It’s none of my business, but I wasn’t the only one to notice.” He straightens his shoulders, facing up to me as if expecting trouble. “It’s difficult enough for her, coming into Casa Nostra as the new wife—she doesn’t need you raising questions about how much she loves her husband.”

  He’s defending her. This guy who’s been with the family for years has nothing but good things to say for someone I thought he’d consider a money-grubbing gold digger.

  “She won you over quickly enough.”

  Stephen gritted his teeth, looked like he was ready to punch me out for impugning a lady’s honor. “She’s the wife of our employer. Keep your hands off her, or you’re out.”

  On the track ahead, grease smears a tuft of overlong grass, and there’s a gouge in the earth beside it. I stoop to get a closer look. “Here.” Barely visible in the long grass lies a long bolt, one shorn silver surface gleaming in the midday sunshine.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kristie

  In my mind, there’s no doubt.

  The incident with the car looks like sabotage. And as part of Montgomery’s protection team, I’m not willing to put him in further danger. Persuading him of my plan is another matter.

  “I want to go home. I’m fine.” He sits on the bed in the private hospital room where he’s had a thorough medical check, his mouth set in a stubborn line. “My children will be expecting me home. I don’t want to stay here.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t allow that.” We’re alone, so I drop the pretense of being his obedient wife, and revert to my actual role—the role of his protector. “Stephen called. He found a bolt which could have been tampered with. We need to investigate further. This could be the evidence that we’ve needed to get the police involved. Stephen’s on his way, let’s hold off until we discuss it with him.”