by Jodi Redford
“Yes, unless you’ve got some toxic stuff in your junk that I don’t know about.”
He gaped at her, and she grinned.
Tossing the cloth into the bin, he shook his head. “I can’t believe you said that. And you call yourself a good girl.”
“I’m pretty sure that title’s been revoked after what happened in there,” she mused with a grimace.
“We damn well had no choice. They would have been suspicious if we didn’t provide them with something.”
“I know. I just hope that’s the end of the necessary awkward situations.” Her cheeks heated, and she gnawed her lip before giving a delicate cough. “Not that I didn’t enjoy the last few minutes there.”
The glow in his eyes threatened to combust her. “Yeah, no need for me to ask if that was amazing for you, since I already know the answer too.”
It was her turn to gape. “Are you saying what I think you are?”
He grunted. “Are all your orgasms like that? ’Cause it’s a bloody wonder you can walk afterwards.”
What in the hell is going on? She’d heard of mutual orgasms, but come on. “Well, at least you no longer think I’m crazy.”
“I never thought you were.”
She gave him a hard look. “No, you just hate the idea of being tied to me.”
“Avi, this isn’t the time or place to discuss this.”
“Don’t worry, we’re not. I already told you I’m done pursuing that fruitless dream.”
A dark emotion flashed in his eyes. She didn’t have the strength to care what it might mean. Didn’t matter. It couldn’t possibly hold a candle to the pain in her heart.
She’d made a valiant effort not to care. To put on a false front for him. It was all strictly for show. No more honest than this ridiculous dominatrix getup and the playacting she’d put on back at the party. Except when it came to her sensual reaction to Jerrick. Her body and heart didn’t need a phony cover when it came to him. But they were in desperate want of a safeguard against the devastation he could wreak upon them.
“Avi.” The impossible blueness of his gaze threatened to reel her in.
A knock rattled the door, a temporary stand-in for that safeguard she so severely required. Hurrying from the sink, she wrenched open the door.
Francesca gave Avily’s no-doubt-frazzled appearance a double blink. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I wondered if you cared to join me for a nightcap before closing.”
Avily brushed her bangs back from her forehead and took a series of grounding breaths. Better. She was here to do a job, not fall apart. She’d do well to remember that. “Sounds lovely.”
Her lingering concerns about having to face the club members dissipated as Francesca led them past the room where the party appeared to still be in full swing.
Francesca offered a contrite smile. “My apologies, but I’m afraid I’m growing too old to tolerate that many people in one place for more than an hour. Even in my own house.”
Avily shook her head vigorously. “Trust me, I’m perfectly okay with it. I confess to not being a huge fan of crowds myself.” Particularly those engaging in wild sex orgies.
She and Jerrick piled into the elevator with Francesca, and after the mistress tapped in a special code, they rode the conveyance up to the penthouse floor. Avily didn’t need to glance in Jerrick’s direction to know he’d committed Francesca’s pass key to memory. The brass doors slid open, awarding unimpeded access straight into the mistress’s private quarters.
The sumptuous space was a decorator’s wet dream, swathed in rich velvets, silks and priceless tapestries. Francesca’s beloved Artur’ak pieces were scattered throughout the central room, the predominant feature an enormous jade screen that took up nearly an entire wall. Avily tossed another look toward Jerrick and noticed him visually molesting the screen. Between that and the chandelier one floor below, his self-restraint was getting a severe kick in the ass.
Francesca waved to the leather sectional. “Please, take a seat.”
Resisting the urge to remind Jerrick that the mistress didn’t mean that literally, Avily settled on the cushion. He resumed his standard place at her feet and covertly scoped the room while Francesca headed to the kitchen.
A second later the mistress reappeared with three bottles of Larry the Fairy. Avily was thrilled to see the familiar label rather than the crazy sex punch from downstairs, but she was also surprised by the extra bottle.
Francesca chuckled. “The house rules stop at this floor. I paid a great deal more merca for these furnishings than those in the public rooms. I don’t relish the cleaning bill I’d be stuck with up here.”
More and more, Francesca Dominitri was proving to not be entirely the cold businesswoman Avily originally pinned her for. Sure, the mistress clearly had money coming out her wazoo and ran her kinky sex club like a tight ship, but she also had a sense of humor and a breakable heart under her glamorous exterior.
Reminded of the mistress’s relationship with Casper, Avily glanced about the space, almost expecting to see whips and chains stashed beside the silver tea server. Would you like one smack across the ass or two with your Jufferi? Fighting back a snicker, she took a sip of her Larry’s and eyed Francesca. “Your home is absolutely beautiful.”
Francesca beamed, her pride readily apparent. “Thank you. Casper and I spent a ridiculous amount of months merely on the decision of which rugs we would use in here.”
An extra beat thrummed through Avily’s pulse. Judging from the way Jerrick suddenly inched forward, he too was experiencing the same jolt of anticipation. Attempting to cool her excitement, she gulped another swig from the bottle and adopted a casual air. “Oh, did Casper live here with you?”
“Yes. It was far more convenient to his laboratory, though in the last few years before his passing, he did most of his work here anyway.”
Holy. Shit. Terrified she was going to reveal her excitement by dancing a jig and splashing Larry the Fairy all over Francesca’s pristine, cost-a-year’s-salary-to-clean furnishings, Avily cautiously planted the bottle on the table across from her. “You don’t say. Here? Really? So he had a lab and everything?” Gods, did that sound too nosy? Too suspicious and prodding?
Francesca nodded. “I used to get quite miffed when he’d spend too much time in there and not enough with me.” Her smile turned crooked. “He really got a good flogging on those occasions.”
Way too much information. Trying not to look disturbed by the image that’d just popped onto her mental big screen, Avily racked her brain, hoping against hope she’d dredge up the memory of a potential lab they’d passed during yesterday’s tour. This was when clearly marked doors would be damn helpful. Finally she admitted defeat and went with another leading question. “I can see how it would have been convenient, but how in the world did he deal with the distraction of all the club members milling constantly about?”
“Easily. His lab is back there.” Francesca gestured to the hall behind them. “No one ever came in here but me.”
It took everything inside Avily not to stare fixedly at the beckoning darkness at the end of that long corridor. Oh. My. Gods.
It was right there.
Right.
Freaking.
There.
Casper Winston’s mysterious research. The object sinister thugs had blackmailed Jerrick into stealing. The end barter for her life. The potentially dangerous commodity that the fate of the planet might rest on.
There was only one proper response when faced with a situation such as this.
Fuck.
Chapter Twenty
“She won’t let you go merrily waltzing in there.”
Jerrick checked the neighboring lane of traffic and gusted a swear word at the parking lot conditions boxing him in on all sides. Bloody hell. He was ready to give the one-finger salute to Amora and her horny, drunk and annoyingly everywhere revelers. “You think I don’t know that? I’m already working on a plan.”
“Ca
re to fill me in?” Avi demanded.
“I will as soon as I’ve figured it all out.”
“Wow, not like I haven’t heard that one a million times before.”
He gripped the wheel tighter. “Want to elaborate on that comment?”
She volleyed his squint with an equally fierce stare down. “You always do this to me.” Shaking her head, she held up a hand. “Correction, did this to me. Hold out until the midnight hour. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is? You can’t expect me to function at full capacity under those conditions.”
“I never deliberately held out on you. Most of the time I didn’t know the final game plan until the last second myself.”
“Most of the time. You said it yourself. Don’t deny it.”
He stifled a growl. “You damn well know shit happens. I have no control over that. Plans get screwed up. Someone drops the ball. The damn alarm company does a routine check on the wrong night. Always something.”
She snorted. “That was nothing compared to the dude who had the Emulla guarding his property.”
He caught the flash of her grin from the corner of his eye. Clearing his throat, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “You would have run like the motherfucking wind too if you had an eight-foot bird gunning for your ass.”
A wistful sigh floated from her. “If only I’d had a night visio cam that night.”
He glanced at her full on again. The humor dancing at her lips pulling him in, he surrendered defeat and joined in her laugh.
She wiped the tears from her eyes, her expression growing melancholy. “We had some good times together, Jer.”
“Minus the big-ass birds with a hankering for fairy meat.”
“No, I mean it. In the past I’ve been so focused on the negative, my hurt and pain, that I forgot how much I loved being with you on a stakeout. Digging through research and collecting intel. You taught me the importance of strategizing. Planning.”
“Then pitching it all when everything goes to hell in a rocket-propelled handcart,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, especially that.” She swallowed, her gaze drifting to the dash. “You were the best years of my life.”
His chest constricted. “And the worst.”
She didn’t patronize him by erroneously attempting to correct the truth. “I still wouldn’t change any of it.”
And now? Did she wish he’d never walked back into her life? Probably. Not that he’d blame her for feeling that way. The weight of his emotions making him uneasy, he returned his attention to the congested roadway. He pounded on the Air Racer’s horn, earning a distant echoing response from behind him. “Assclown,” he grumbled.
“They’re probably thinking the same thing about you,” Avi said dryly.
“Why couldn’t all these damn people stay home?” He heaved a breath at the sight of her raised eyebrow. “Yeah, I know. They’re thinking the same thing about me.” It was like old times. Him grousing and her being the voice of reason. “I’ll be glad when this damn holiday is done with.”
“See? That’s your problem. You’re looking at this the wrong way. Amora Moon is the perfect thief holiday.”
Resting his elbow on the windowsill, he swept her with a considering look. “How do you figure?”
“Are you kidding me? All these love-struck moonies blitzed on a weeklong hormonal cocktail? You could lift a ten-carat diamond from their pinkie and they wouldn’t notice until sometime next year.”
“Interesting theory.”
“Puh-lease. You know I’m right.”
He shrugged, only because he knew it would get her goat. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Admit it, you rat bastard. I’m right on the money.”
“If it makes you feel better thinking that…”
Releasing an outraged squeal, she pinched him on the thigh. Bloody good thing he had the leather pants on instead of his standard denim.
“I demand we test my theory. Immediately.”
“Babe, I’m wearing pants with ass air conditioning. Not exactly suitable for the public.”
“Don’t even pretend that you can’t conjure some underwear.”
Damn, she would have to back him into a corner with logic. Grasping his next argument, he waved to the vehicles surrounding them. “Pity we’re going nowhere. Otherwise I’d take you up on that. And place a wager that you couldn’t pull off your little cockamamie scheme.”
The brake lights ahead of him flashed before the traffic began inching forward. Avi’s smile turned gloating. “Well look at that.”
His ass might be the one exposed, but it was undoubtedly the lovely sisters of fate who must be howling theirs off. Mumbling, he shifted into drive.
And prepared to put his money where his mouth was.
“Why in the bloody blazes did you have to pick this joint?”
Avi offered him an overly sweet smile. “Because I know how fondly you adore the management.”
Right on cue, a gratingly booming voice carried across the packed bar. “Saints be alive! If it isn’t my favorite patron in all of Tul’dea!”
His left eye twitching, Jerrick had no choice but to stand rooted in place while the considerable hulk of Preston Comstock plowed in their direction. The manager graced Jerrick with an equally antagonistic glower. “And you.”
Long ago he and Preston had come to the mutual conclusion that they’d gladly offer the other a one-way ticket off a short pier. Far as Jerrick was concerned, Preston was loud, hideously obnoxious and pretty much a disgrace to every fae on the planet with his insistence on wearing argyle and western boots. Together. He had no idea why Preston didn’t care for him. Likely something to do with Jerrick divesting Preston of the ridiculous oil painting of kittens in bonnets that used to hang over the establishment’s door several years back. Damn idiot should have paid him for the favor of ridding the world of that weird monstrosity.
“I have an available booth over this way.” Preston made a wide gesture with his arm, nearly poleaxing a customer walking for the exit.
Shaking his head, Jerrick trailed Avi and Preston to the opposite end of the dining hall. Soon as the manager vacated to hunt down a server, Jerrick leaned back in his seat and sent Avi a challenging look. “Can’t wait to see how you intend to swipe all those diamonds from way back here.”
“I’ll have you know this is part of my plan. Prime surveillance spots are key. Or have you forgotten your own infinite words of wisdom, oh holy leader of the smarty-pants?”
“I’m the leader now? Damn, seems like only yesterday I was promoted to chief dishwasher.”
“You’re moving up in the world.” Scooting closer to the edge of the booth, she glanced toward the bar. “Only thing left for me to do is settle on my marks. I’m rather partial to the blond businessman and the auburn-haired woman in the pink polka-dot dress.”
He surveyed her choices and grudgingly admitted that both held potential. “Wager?”
“When I win, you buy me dinner and award me lifetime bragging rights.”
He slung his arm on the back of the bench. “Not a problem. Because when I win, you’ll owe me a plaque with the words ‘Jerrick is always right’ stamped in big, bold lettering. I’ll also want your signature at the bottom.”
Her nose twitched. “Clearly I see why you were advanced to leader.”
Grinning, he watched her rise from her seat and stride to the bar. She approached the female first. Fascinated, he observed the ease with which Avi reeled the woman into conversation. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her in action, but witnessing her amazing skill at distracting her mark with laughter and camaraderie never failed to fill him with a strange pride.
She’s bloody fantastic at this. Yeah, he’d never wanted the thief’s life for her, but there was no denying she had the chops for it.
An instant later, she abandoned her newfound friend and returned to the booth. Holding out her hand, she revealed the square-cut emerald earring resting in her palm.
&n
bsp; “Not bad. Gem’s a little on the small side.”
“Thanks for your stingy approval. And size doesn’t always matter, you know.”
He pasted on a cocky smile. “Wouldn’t know, since that’s never been an issue for me.”
Her eyes rolled toward the ceiling. “Regardless, not like I’m keeping it anyway. It’s going right back on Juliette’s ear in a moment.”
“You spoke to her precisely two minutes, and you got her name and her jewelry.”
She flipped her hair with a sassy flick of her hand. “Because I’m that good, baby. Stamp that on my plaque.” Giving him a finger gun, she pivoted and retraced her path to the bar. After pausing beside Juliette and discreetly replacing the earring, Avi ventured to the blond businessman.
Jerrick fully expected her to begin instantly chatting up the guy, but instead she unclipped her cloak and draped it on the neighboring stool. The man’s eyes threatened to bug out of his skull as he gaped at Avi’s sexy getup.
“That little minx.” Jerrick didn’t know whether to applaud her or cry foul over her devious maneuvering. That damn dress and sexier-than-hell shoes gave her an unfair advantage that they hadn’t agreed upon.
He swiftly came to a third possibility as the male mark at the bar continued to eye-fuck Avi—embedding the asshole’s teeth in the wormholed countertop. With no warning, the man snagged Avi by the arm and dragged her onto his lap.
A menacing growl charging from his lungs, Jerrick shoved up from his seat and stalked to the bar. Avi saw him coming, and her eyes widened. With a calmness that belied his murderous thoughts, he plucked her off the creep’s lap and planted her on her feet before he turned back to the guy and crunched a fist into his nose.
Blood spraying from his nostrils, the man howled and clamped a hand over his face. “You goddamn son of a bitch! You broke my nose.”
“Consider yourself lucky that’s all I did.” He tossed Avi’s cloak over his shoulder and hauled her away from the idiot.
A bristling force of hostile energy stepped in his path, blocking him. Slamming short, he accepted Leena’s fulminous glare, weary tension falling over him like a horsehair blanket that refused to be shrugged off. After fifteen years of absence, he’d been treated to a double whammy of his deceitful ex.
