The Gold Digger Gambit: A Honeytrap Inc. Romance

by Tabitha A Lane

  Three cars are parked outside. I need to find out whose. I need to find out a lot of things; I’ve taken too much for granted, but no longer. I rap on the door then open it. Stephen sits behind a desk, working on a laptop. “Kristie.” His eyes narrow when he sees my expression. “News?”

  I sit. “Montgomery suggests that Marco could have been the intruder.”

  Stephen frowns. “That makes no sense. He has no motive for hurting Montgomery.”

  “He had a motive for recording what goes on in my bedroom. When you brought him into my room, he didn’t know that we’d found the bug. He could have thought it was the perfect opportunity to record me...” God, even thinking it makes me sick. “He could have thought I’d succumb to his charms and he could get it on tape. That’s what he came here for, remember?”

  “Whoever it was, they planted the bug in your jacket, not the room. They could have been trying to record you, rather than Montgomery.”

  “Pull the footage.” I walk around the desk while he cues up the file, and lean over to view it. Just as before, the figure is so well covered by the hoodie. It’s impossible to make out anything beyond the fact it’s a guy, and one who is fit.

  “It could be Marco, Sebastian, or a stranger.” The height and body dimensions are all wrong for Jerry, and both women were accounted for. I curl my hands into fists, frustration making me want to punch something. “There must be something to identify them. Have you tried enhancing the picture?”

  Stephen shoots me a do-you-think-I’m-stupid stare.

  “This is as good as it gets. I can’t tell who it is.” Stephen crossed his arms.

  “Neither can I, this footage is a dead end.” Unable to sit and discuss things calmly, I get up and pace back and forth across the narrow room. “Montgomery wants out of the hospital, and I’m inclined to allow it. There are too many people in the hospital, too many potential witnesses for anyone to try anything. The only person we definitely know has been targeted is Montgomery, not me. To bring the suspect out of hiding, we’ll have to move the arena to Casa Nostra.”

  Stephen nodded. “I’ll handle it. What do you want to do about Marco? I can have him out of here within the hour.”

  I’ve been mulling over what to do about Marco since Montgomery voiced his suspicions. “Charles brought him in to do a job. If we sack him, we could end up with another person planted into the household with a hidden agenda. He knows the marriage is a fake, and if he’s lying to me, that information will have been passed to Charles too. I say we leave him in place, and see what happens.”

  “If Charles is behind the attacks on Montgomery and discovers the marriage is fake, there’ll be no need to try and get you out of the way. He’ll focus all his efforts on his father.”

  “And if it’s someone else, I’m still in the firing line.”

  The complexities of this case are giving me a headache. I’m sick to death of waiting for someone to act—this job was only ever supposed to be for a month or two at most. Mrs. Patten is a role I’m already wearying of playing.

  I dressed in running gear before leaving the bedroom, with my iPod slipped into a pocket on my bicep. I fasten my earbuds into my ears, and stretch.

  “I’m going for a run. I have to get out of here for a while.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Marco

  There isn’t enough time. This assignment will not be concluded in a few days—I’ll be lucky if I get out of here in a few weeks. There’s no way in hell I’m leaving Kristie unprotected, and I can’t brush my boss off with excuses any longer.

  Brian won’t like what I have to say, but he’ll have to deal with it. I bolster an Americano with a double espresso shot and make the call.

  He picks up after the first ring. “I was just about to call you.”

  “Have there been any developments?” I can’t see why else he’d be about to call me.

  “I heard from Charles an hour or so ago. He says you’ve achieved your objective.”

  “He’s wrong.” Whether or not I’ve kissed Kristie is technically my boss’s business—after all, that’s what I was sent to Casa Nostra for—but what has happened between us is nobody’s business but Kristie’s and mine. “This situation is a lot more complicated than we were led to believe. I need to give you a complete debriefing, and I’d prefer to do that face-to-face. I can fly back to Seattle—”

  “No need.” Brian is brisk and to the point. “I’m coming to New York for a few days for meetings with some potential clients.”

  “When?”

  “I’m at the airport now. Meet me in The Weston Hotel at eleven tomorrow morning.”

  When the call is over, I feel like raiding Robert’s stash of premium grade whiskey and pouring myself a large one, but my contract states I’m on call twenty-four hours a day when I’m working so that’s a no-no.

  Dammit, there are eyes and ears everywhere. I’d been so careful not to touch Kristie when we came into the house, but Charles must have seen the stupid stolen moment in the car when I kissed her. It was damned unprofessional of me but I’d I hadn’t been able to resist one last taste of her mouth. Touch of her skin. .

  I need to find Kristie and warn her of his suspicions.

  “Where the hell is she?”

  Kristie’s damn phone goes to voicemail. I’ve already sneaked into her room, found it empty, and checked out the gym.

  Stephen looks up from the bank of security cameras. “She went for a run.”

  Anger rises up in me, threatening to explode. “Alone? For Chrissake, what’s the matter with you?” I stalk to the monitors and scan the ones that record the grounds. “She should not be out there on her own. She’s in danger.”

  Stephen’s fists clench. “You’ve got some nerve, coming in here and telling me—”

  This isn’t the time for a pissing contest. The sky is beginning to darken. She shouldn’t be out there on her own, a visible target should anyone decide to launch an attack against the current Mrs. Patten.

  “Where did you last see her, and how long ago?”

  “You’re overreacting. She was here,” he checks his watch, “half an hour ago.”

  “And you’ve seen her on the monitors?” I’m looming over him, and it’s not having the desired effect, he’s pissed, rather than intimidated.

  “No. My job is more than sitting here watching monitors all day.”

  I drag in a breath, and resist the urge to grab his neck and shake him. “If she’s out there, we should be able to see her.” I scan each screen in turn, but there’s no movement. “This covers the whole estate, doesn’t it?”

  His face reddens. He rubs the back of his neck. “Most of it.” He glances to a box of electronic equipment in the corner of the room. “I’m in the process of upgrading the system. A tree fell in the storm a couple of days ago and took out a couple of cameras...”

  I don’t hang around to hear any more of his pathetic excuses.

  Minutes later, I’ve checked the trail that snakes through the pines behind the house and the fields that lead down to the river in the northernmost band of the property. The only other route she could have taken is the drive that leads out to the road.

  Light rain starts to fall, dampening my hair and leaving a faint sheen of water droplets on my running gear so I pick up the pace and head towards the front gate. I’m halfway there when she punches in the code for the automatic gates and I have reached her by the time they’re fully open, allowing her to jog inside the property’s perimeter.

  “Kristie.”

  She doesn’t hear me. I jog up behind her and grab her shoulder.

  “Jesus!” She dashes the earbuds from her ears, instinctively veering away from me and clutching a hand to her chest. Her eyes are wide and wild. “For chrissake, Marco, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  Her hair is tied up in a tail with damp tendrils curling around her flushed face. I want to pull her close and hold her until her heart stops hammering and her expressio
n changes from startled to calm. But who knows who may be watching.

  “Anyone could have run up behind you and you wouldn’t have heard them.” I indicate the earbuds. “What the hell, Kristie? You shouldn’t be out here on your own, it’s not safe. And you didn’t answer my text. I told you not to go anywhere without me. Next time you want to run, you need to let me know.” I’m holding on to my emotions. Struggling to keep my anger banked.

  “I don’t need you to. I’m more than capable of looking after myself.”

  Unacceptable answer. “You didn’t answer your cell.”

  She gets out her phone and checks it. “Fuck, my battery’s dead. Sorry.” She shoves the phone back into her pocket, tucks her earbuds into a pocket on her bicep with the iPod and starts to run away from me. “I have to go.” She glances over her shoulder at where she expects me to be—standing there in her dust—but I’m shoulder to shoulder with her.

  When she sees how close I am, her gaze drops to my mouth, then back up to my eyes, a flash of heat visible for a split-second before she masks it.

  “I have to get back and dress for dinner. I didn’t realize I was out for so long.” She picks up the pace but I match it. “I can’t be seen with you. Anyone looking out of the windows could see us.”

  “Too fucking late.”

  “What?” She stops dead and stares at me.

  “He told my boss. He must have been at the house when we came back from the fruit farm and saw us kissing in the car.”

  I take her arm and steer her into a nearby bank of trees off the path.

  “What are you doing?” Her muscles are tense under my fingers.

  “No one can see us.” I wrap my arms around her and pulled her close. “I have to kiss you.” That’s all the warning I give her before leaning down and claiming her mouth. Her taste is instantly familiar. The scent of her brings me right back to that stolen moment in another wood, against a different tree. My cock hardens.

  For a moment, she’s stiff and unyielding, but then she opens her mouth and kisses me back, with a blast of passion that heats my blood to boiling. I shove up her T-shirt, trace my fingers over the firm muscles of her stomach. Then dip below the waistband of her sweatpants.

  I might as well have thrown a bucket of cold water on her, such is her response. She rips her mouth away from mine and plants her palms flat on my chest. “Stop.”

  Her erect nipples are visible through the soft fabric of her T-shirt. Her pupils are wide and dilated and everything about her indicates she is turned on. But she shoves my chest and I take a step back.

  “You want me to stop.”

  She chews her bottom lip. A pale pink flush colors her cheeks. “Yes. I want you to stop.” She smooths her hands over her outer thighs. “We can’t do this.” She avoids my eyes. “What happened earlier was a mistake. I have a job to do and it’s unprofessional of me to act the way I acted. And if Charles knows...” She shakes her head, squeezes her eyes tight shut. “Fuck.”

  “It’s unprofessional of you to have fucked me?” She’s been acting differently since I found her, before she heard about Charles. Something has changed. “Don’t try to tell me you don’t want me, Kristie.” I pitch my voice low, and note that the way I spoke her name has had the required effect when I see her eyes close slightly and the tip of her tongue peek out to quickly lick the side of her mouth. The way she does when she is turned on. “Because I won’t believe it for a minute.” I take the time to slowly sweep her body with my gaze; a long slow perusal that makes her breathing hitch.

  “I never said I didn’t want you. I just said I couldn’t have you.” She starts to jog on the spot. “Don’t fight me on this, Marco, I need to go. Don’t let anyone see you following me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Kristie

  A text pings onto my phone as I’m walking down to breakfast. It’s from Marco. He’s has a meeting in the city, and tells me to be careful in his absence. I guess he got the message after our tryst yesterday, that I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. I don’t need a defender on hand twenty-four/seven as he seemed to think I do.

  There’s no reason in the world that should leave me feeling hollowed out inside.

  There are raised voices in the dining-room ahead. I approach silently, and wait outside the door, listening.

  Jerry and Amber. And they are really going at it.

  “You promised.” Jerry sounds like a petulant, overgrown child. “After we made that crap film last year you promised to produce Turning and make me the star.”

  “I know I promised, darling. Don’t you think I want to do it? There’s nothing I want more.” There’s a liberal dash of desperation in her tone. “I’m just having a little problem at the moment raising the finances.”

  “I can’t waste my life waiting. I have a career, and every day I’m not out there being seen is a day that I’m closer to being forgotten. I don’t want to do this, you know I don’t, but if you can’t give me what you promised, I’ll have to think very carefully about our future. Very carefully.”

  He emphasizes the last two words, as if somehow she hasn’t got the message.

  I’m standing outside the door, and even I’ve got the message.

  “My father is coming home today. I’ll talk to him. Once he realizes how important this is, and that I need the money urgently to lock me in to the movie, he’ll authorize release of the funds. I know he will.”

  The prospect of walking in there and making small talk over muesli and berries after overhearing their conversation holds no appeal. So instead, I head to the kitchen. The warm, friendly room I breakfasted in before I moved up the hierarchy from employee to wife.

  Isabel looks up when I enter the room.

  So does Stephen, who’s sitting at the kitchen table eating toast and drinking coffee.

  “Would you mind if I ate in here with you? The temperature in the dining room is a bit frosty.”

  “Of course.” Isabel fusses, fixing me a plate with all my favorite foods, then leaves the room with a supersized stack of pancakes for the dining room.

  “So, no Marco today.” Stephen sounds pissed. “And Mr. P. has been on already demanding he be collected from the hospital.”

  “I’ll get everything ready here for him.” Both of us don’t need to go to the hospital—it’s not as though Montgomery needs any actual nursing, he’s incredibly fit for a man his age.

  “We had an activation on the perimeter alarm last night,” Stephen mutters. “Could have just been an animal.”

  “Did you check the footage?”

  He nods once, quick and decisive. “Nothing. The breach was at the west side of the property, at the chain link fence. The cameras are down in that zone.” His mouth purses, like he’s sucking on a wasp. “And nothing closer to the house registered. I wanted to get out there this morning and investigate but I’ve been—”

  His cell buzzes, and he glances at the screen. “Summoned.” He holds it up to show me the message. I am ready to leave. Come NOW.

  Once Stephen has left and Isabel has been set to preparing the house for Montgomery’s return, I dress in my running gear, and head outside. I almost bump into Charles on the way out, who can barely bring himself to acknowledge me, and can’t hide his initial instinctive reaction to me—a sneer.

  I counter with a breezy, “Good morning, Charles,” before passing him and jogging out to the perimeter.

  It’s raining. Not hard, but enough to dampen my hair and clothes and chill my skin. I need to do this quickly so I can get back and shower before Montgomery returns. I have half the fence checked before I find it. A man-sized gap, which must have been cut with heavy shears. I run a finger over the bright, shiny metal surface. There’s no dulling, no rust. This must be where the breach occurred.

  Someone came through the fence. But where did they go from here?

  The rain falls heavier, and the sky darkens to slate gray. I’m tempted to turn and run straight back to Casa Nostr
a, but I need to be thorough, I need to make sure every inch of the perimeter is checked, so I continue on my route.

  The fence disappears into a stand of pines, so I do too. Fallen needles are soft underfoot, and the protection of the branches shelters me from the worst of the deluge. I shake my head like a wet dog, pull up my running jacket, and wipe the water from my face with the hem of my T-shirt.

  I breathe in the scent of pine. Listen. There’s something strange about this place. A trace of foreboding that I can’t pin down. I walk through the trees, gritting my teeth against the feeling, telling myself in mere minutes I’ll be back out into the open again. Where my only concern will be the beating rain.

  And then I see it. A dark bundle of what looks like discarded clothing.

  My senses are on full alert and I scan the trees and undergrowth before cautiously approaching. When I get close enough, I recognize Sebastian.

  My son-in-law is dressed in black, soaked through, and cold to the touch. His face is pale, and there’s a tinge of blue around his lips. I check his carotid and he stirs under my fingertips, making a weak groan, but not opening his eyes. There’s a gash on the side of his head. As though he’s been hit with a heavy object.

  “Sebastian, can you hear me?”

  No response.

  I run my hands over his body checking for further injuries but find none. Stephen won’t be back from the hospital for at least an hour, and Marco will be gone for even longer. There’s no way I can manoeuvre him back to the house without help, and god knows how long he’s been lying out here, he’s so cold it could have been all night.

  I retrieve my cellphone and call in the paramedics.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Marco

  The Weston has a top-notch bar and fantastic dining room. Neither of which I get to see this visit. There’s no sign of Brian in the lobby, and when I check with the desk, they direct me to his suite. There will be no chance of today’s conversation being overheard.