by Kylie Brant
He took the time to arouse her all over again, but this time was different. This time she had the throbbing length of him pressed deep inside her. It was a promise that soon had her moving against him—tentatively at first, then with an instinctive motion that drew him ever deeper.
His hands went to her hips, held her steady as he thrust hard, wringing a cry from her. Sensation exploded at the contact, convulsing her. He thrust again, and again, too quickly for her to catch her breath. She panted as she clung to him, her ankles crawling higher to press into his hips. Nick pounded rhythmically into her, not allowing the inner spasms to halt. They eddied wider and stronger, shuddering through her as her body demanded release. She writhed against him as he surged into her over and over, the pleasure building and coiling tighter until his name was wrung from her lips, a demand, a plea.
He gave one last violent thrust and she abruptly shattered, spinning in a vortex of pleasure. His hips hammered hers until a groan was wrenched from him, his mouth going in search of hers.
And when she floated back down to reality from the heights they’d reached, he was there to catch her.
Nick waited with utter stillness at the isolated table at the small outdoor restaurant. The breeze blowing off the lake was strong; most of the diners had opted to dine indoors. But the wildness of the elements never bothered him. Perhaps because he possessed more than a hint of wildness himself.
He reached for his glass of water and sipped. His father and grandmother had tried to stamp that quality from him, but had failed. It was as much a part of him as the black hair and eyes. He didn’t give it much consideration because he’d long since learned to control it. At least he thought he had, until last night.
He’d hoped that making love to Sara would quench the fire she’d ignited in his blood, but instead he’d been left with an unquenchable desire for more. Broodingly, he waved the approaching waiter away. He didn’t lose control with women—not ever. But Sara wasn’t like the other nameless, faceless females who had passed through his life without leaving a mark. He’d known she wouldn’t be. Her response to him had stripped away the polished, civilized veneer he cultivated, leaving the most primitive man beneath.
They’d slept very little last night. Each time they’d made love, she’d gone willingly into his arms. All the experience had proved was that emotion, long suppressed, could strike at any time with a furious bite. Uncomfortably, he shifted in his chair. Trying to tuck the uncharacteristic feelings away worked only until he touched her again. Caught the scent of her shampoo. Then they reared again with a force that couldn’t be denied.
It was beginning to occur to him that handling Mannen wouldn’t be the trickiest part of this assignment. Grappling with these long-dormant feelings would surely be the biggest challenge Nick had ever faced.
A waiter showed Victor Mannen toward the table, and Nick glanced down at his watch. Twenty minutes late. Just long enough to make a point about who wielded the power in their relationship. When Mannen held out his hand in greeting, Nick didn’t move, merely arched his brows. Mannen allowed it to drop to his side, not a flicker of expression crossing his face.
Nick waited for the waiter to leave and for the other man to seat himself before saying evenly, “If you ever keep me waiting again, you’ll be looking for a new partner.”
Mannen paused in the act of reaching for his menu. He recovered admirably. “Forgive my tardiness. Something came up that required my attention.”
Baring his teeth, Nick leaned forward. “You were playing games, mon ami, and I’m the wrong kind of man to play them with. I’m no one’s lackey and you need me much more than I need you. Don’t make that mistake again.”
Mannen pursed his lips. Nick couldn’t tell if he was irritated or intrigued. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m unused to dealing with associates of your…sensibilities.” He grew still when Nick reached in his jacket pocket, withdrew what looked like a slim gold pen and laid it on the table, one end pointing directly at Mannen.
“You’ll have to forgive me. I’m not the trusting sort.” Nick waited sixty seconds, until a small red light flickered from the pen’s top. He picked up the pen, replaced it in his pocket. Giving a shrug at the other man’s expression, he said, “You could have been wired.”
His eyes going cold, Mannen noted, “So could you.”
Nick spread his arms. “I assume you’re checking that out as we speak.”
A small smile crossed Mannen’s lips. He reached into his pocket, took out something that resembled a calculator. “I’m told it has the ability to pick up security devices from twenty feet away.”
As the other man replaced it, Nick gave a small smile and made a show of relaxing. “We both share a similar need to feel…secure.”
Mannen inclined his head. “I have found it pays to be proactive in these matters.”
Picking up his menu, Nick opened it and observed, “I can understand why. You’ve acquired some unfortunate attention. After you were seen speaking to us last night, my friend was approached by an assistant state attorney inquiring about you.”
It wasn’t difficult to read Mannen’s expression this time. His lips pressed together and his fingers tightened on his menu. “Yes, that is unfortunate, but I can assure you there is nothing to fear. With the appropriate amount of caution I’m certain we can manage to do business without undue interference.” He scanned the list of entrées quickly before folding it and setting it aside. “I can recommend the pressed duck. It’s quite good. The chef here trained in Paris.”
Nick kept his eyes on the menu until the waiter came back and stood beside their table, his pen poised above his tablet. “May I recite our specials tonight, gentlemen?”
Mannen set down his menu with a decided air. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll have the pressed duck, and my friend…”
He paused expectantly, and Nick nodded. “Make that two.”
“And please bring us a bottle of 1989 Château Palmer Margaux, if you will.” When the waiter picked up their menus and turned away, Victor looked at Nick. “I hope the wine meets with your approval.”
He leaned back, nodded. “I have several bottles of it in my cellar.”
Mannen looked pleased. “Another connoisseur. It occurs to me, Michel, that we may have more in common than I had originally thought.”
Nick stroked the side of his water glass idly. “I can think of several things. The foremost being a strong desire to stay out of one of your American prisons.”
Propping his fingers together, Mannen nodded. “Of course.”
“Because of the interest you’ve generated, however, anyone associated with you is likely to draw similar scrutiny.”
“My dear Michel…” Mannen reached for his water glass, raised it. “If you’re going to use that to try to drive your price up you’re going to be sadly disappointed.”
Nick shook his head. “Just making an observation, my friend. I have enough associates in the area to make the transaction go quite smoothly even if I can’t oversee it personally. My fee more than covers all such expenses. However, if I need to pay off some officials, that would be an unforseen cost I would expect you to absorb.”
Mannen set down his glass. “Of course, but I don’t think you’ll need to worry about that. I have several officials in different agencies who look out for my interests. Now—” he took a moment to meticulously straighten his cuffs “—why don’t you give me an idea of what is involved in an operation of this size?”
Spotting the waiter approaching them, Nick delayed answering until he’d presented the wine, deferentially allowing Mannen to sample its bouquet and pronounce it satisfactory. After he’d filled two wineglasses and retreated, Nick said, “There will be four shipments, and each will port at a different Chicago terminal. They’ll be spaced two days apart. That allows us to move the cargo at night, transport it to a holding building somewhere in the area, and disperse it before the next shipment comes in. Do you have enough buyers lin
ed up?”
Mannen appeared to be savoring the wine. “That is my end of this association, is it not?”
Nick made an apologetic gesture. “As you say. I just need to know if I should plan a longer time between the shipments.”
“Why can’t you get a place large enough to hold the entire cargo?”
To listen to their conversation, Nick thought, no one would suspect they were discussing human lives, about to be shattered for one man’s ambition. “I can,” he replied. “But the people get spooked if they’re held for long. A two-day window gives us time to take some phony snapshots, present them with a set of doctored papers and lull them into thinking things are progressing as planned. If they have time to start to question motives, things get ugly in a hurry. People get hurt, and that costs you money.”
Mannen considered this. “Perhaps you’re right. I imagine it’s easier to control smaller groups, as well. But there’s no need to worry. I have everything in hand.”
“All right. I’ve got the ships lined up, but will still need to arrange transport from the docks and find a building of the proper size in an isolated location. It will need to be primitively outfitted, cots and rest rooms. Someone on hand who can provide medical services, if necessary. A kitchen.”
Raising his eyebrows, Mannen observed, “That seems like a lot of trouble.”
“They have to be fed, and ordering out for a couple hundred at a time isn’t feasible.” He gazed at the man steadily. “I thought you’d had some experience with this before.”
“I have, of course. But I’ve eliminated a middleman on this end who dealt with some of those details.”
Nick gave an approving nod. “Cost effective. Lowering your overhead means increased profit.”
Mannen’s pale eyes glinted. “I need increased profits. You’re more expensive than some of your competitors.”
Picking up his wineglass, Nick noted coolly, “As for that…I actually have fewer competitors these days. Hinrich and Roven contacted me before I arrived here. They were…unhappy they’d been replaced. They’ll no longer be available for any business transactions you have in mind.”
The other man stared at him for an instant, then chuckled with real amusement. He raised his glass, tipped it toward Nick in a salute. “Mr. Falcol, I really believe the two of us shall get along famously.”
Nick finished his call and tucked the cell phone back in his pocket. Kim asked, “Well? How did my baby perform?”
He smiled at her wording. “As promised. The wireless microphone is every bit as good as you claimed. Martin and Kwilisz said they could even pick up the sound of the tables inside being cleared.”
She looked smug. “Told you it was worth the money.”
“And you were right.” Wire was a misnomer for the device he’d had taped to his chest. In actuality it was a thin loop of plastic encasing the listening instrument. State of the art, it didn’t cause any fluctuations in voltage that an oscilloscope could pick up. The fact that the entire device and all its parts were made of plastic meant that not even a sweep with a metal detector would discover it.
And of course, if Mannen had found it, it was highly unlikely that Nick would be having this conversation.
“How far away was the van?”
“It was in the parking lot, so…” He made a quick estimate. “Fifty yards, I suppose.”
“Did you get everything you needed?”
He slipped his hands in his trouser pockets and prowled the room. “Maybe. I want more. I wish I could be sure that the money he wired to my account could be traced back to him. I’m not satisfied I have enough evidence yet.” He glanced around, and finally asked the question that had been on his mind since he’d walked in the door. “Where’s Sara?”
“She’s in her room.”
Nick watched Kim, giving her credit for her bland stare. She’d be perfectly aware it was their room. He suspected she had questions about their relationship, but she was too well trained to voice them.
“How long has she been alone?”
There was a hint of annoyance in Kim’s tone. “Not long. Less than twenty minutes.”
Nick gave her a hard stare and turned for the stairway. “That’s twenty minutes too long.”
“Where is she going to go, Nick?” The question trailed after him as he took the steps two at a time. “You’ve got enough men on the perimeter of the property to prevent a small invasion.”
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. But tomorrow, he decided, making a savage note to himself, he and Kim would have a long talk about following his instructions exactly.
The first thing he observed after entering the room was the open window. His gut clenched hard and he began to cross to it, then caught a movement from the corner of his eye. He turned to see Sara coming from the adjoining bathroom.
She stopped short when she saw him, her gaze flicking from him to the window. “Hope it doesn’t bother you to leave it open.”
“No.” The knot in his stomach eased, as a measure of relief spread through him. He used the routine of readying himself for bed to cover his reaction.
When he slipped into bed he rolled to his side and curved his body to hers, spoon fashion. Her narrow back was toward him, his arm around her waist and pressed gently on her belly. His mouth went to her shoulder, and he could feel her shiver in response. “Are you still sore?”
It was an intimate question, one a man asked a woman he’d loved hard and well. A woman he wanted, quite desperately, to love again. She gave a jerky half nod, and he drew a breath, released it. Ordering his clamoring hormones to subside, he cuddled her closer to him. “Then sleep, ’tite chatte.”
He took a measure of satisfaction that she did, eventually, do just that. She was growing accustomed to his touch, to his body close to hers through the night. The fact that it meant so much to him was a matter far better left unspoken.
He slid his hand over the curve of her hip, lightly enough to avoid waking her. Sex with Sara had been even more intense than he’d imagined. And although he wasn’t ready to agree with Luc that his judgment was impaired regarding her, Nick could admit, silently at least, that his fascination had begun long before he’d actually met her. From almost the moment he’d started tracking her, in fact.
Luc was right. Obsession was an alarmingly apt description for the feeling Sara evoked in him. And Nick was damned if he knew what he was going to do about it.
Chapter 10
Nick fell into step beside Sara the next morning as she began jogging her second lap around the property.
“Good idea to keep up with your training. I was going to suggest it myself.”
“Well, there’s not a whole lot else to do around here, is there?” Her tone was short. It hadn’t escaped her notice that several staff members had appeared since their arrival; more staff, she suspected, than three people in a home even this size could use. She’d counted five would-be gardeners alone. “Tell me, do you have to pay your men extra when they pull double duty—lawn work and security?”
Nick gave an unapologetic shrug. “I don’t kid myself that sleeping with me has cured your desire to disappear again. I’m not going to take that chance.”
She pressed her lips together and stared straight ahead. She was unsurprised by his allusion to her desire for escape. She wasn’t so nonchalant at his mention of their lovemaking.
Sex, she corrected herself, concentrating on her stride. Because that was all it was, all it could be. There was no doubt that however much the experience had shattered her, it would hardly have affected Nick the same way. He was a man with a great deal of expertise in the area.
Because she didn’t want to consider how he’d arrived at that expertise, she pushed herself harder, focusing on rhythmic breathing the way he’d taught her. He ran easily by her side in silence for a time. She wondered if the exercise hurt his injury, but didn’t ask. If ever there was a man who oozed self-sufficiency, it was Nick.
She examined the per
imeter of the property as they jogged. It was second nature for her to plan for escape. After being on the run for six years she couldn’t even enter a building without checking for the location of the exits. But this situation offered more difficulties than most. There were too many people around during the day, and at night… She could feel warmth seep to her cheeks at the thought. At night there was Nick.
Sleeping next to her in bed, holding her close might be an effective deterrent to her leaving, but it was dangerously effective in other ways, as well. His touch was becoming too familiar, and it occurred to her, with a jarring bolt of shock, that he’d probably planned that, as well. He was constantly touching her casually, on the hand, the shoulder, or stroking a finger down her arm. She’d never liked people getting too close to her physically, and the knowledge that he’d managed to slip beneath decade-old defenses was terrifying.
They rounded a corner of the property and turned in tandem. Sara was slowing, but she thought she ran more easily than she had in the Keys. Nick had yet to breathe heavily, and she knew the workout barely qualified as such for him. And yet less than forty-eight hours before, his breathing had been ragged, perspiration sheening his body. A shiver rippled down her spine in reaction to the sensual memory. It helped, when remembering the helpless desire she’d felt in his arms, to recall the desire hadn’t been one-sided. They’d barely slept at all that night. Restraint had been shredded on both sides. And while she’d survived for the last several years by maintaining that quality, her control didn’t even come close to matching his.
There was a seductive kind of pleasure in the knowledge, a certainty that she hadn’t been the only one blindsided by the pleasure, left gasping and overwhelmed by the force of their passion. The knowledge wasn’t much, but it was something.
