Deadly Memories

by Susan Vaughan

  “I know.” She skimmed her hands up his belly. In her eyes he saw the same fever that burned in his soul.

  Jack was harder than the stone walls, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t take advantage. Gritting his teeth against his pounding need, he held her away from him. “Sophie, I can’t give you more than sex.”

  “I know that, too. I’m not looking for long-term. First I need to make a life for myself. If all we have is now, why not? Spogliati.”

  “What’s that? Throw caution to the winds? Go for it?”

  She gazed at him from beneath lowered lashes. “Spogliati means take off your clothes.”

  His blood-starved brain needed a moment to process. As her words made sense, amusement bubbled up like champagne. He sputtered a laugh.

  She tackled his jeans snap. “You’re getting me all wet. See?” As demonstration, she took a step back.

  The wet denim had soaked the fabric to transparency. Damp cotton molded to her gently rounded stomach and outlined the dark triangle at the apex of her thighs.

  His stomach twisted and coiled with need. He stripped off his jeans and boxers, and his arousal sprang free.

  Lightning strobed the bedroom window. The flash rimmed her hair with fire and set him ablaze. Thunder cracked overhead and rumbled deep in his body.

  His hands shook. “Sophie.” God, he loved the sound of her name, the taste of it, a sweet whisper on his lips.

  She flicked open the top button of her pajama shirt. Then the next. And the next. The folded edge fell back to skim the inner curves of her breasts.

  When she dropped the thin shirt and bottoms to the floor, the dam broke on his control. He crushed her silken body to his and rubbed his chest against her firm breasts. He rocked his mouth over hers, and she molded her lips to his with a sexy moan. He rubbed the dusky nipples, puckered to hard points. She was sweet and tart and light and heat, and he craved her as a drowning man craved air.

  Blood hammered in his head louder than thunder. “I need you, Sophie.”

  I need you. His words streaked joy inside Sophie. But did she want to be needed? She refused to examine it.

  “I’m here.” She stepped backward, pulling him down on the cool sheets with her.

  He groaned his pleasure, his hard body pressing her into the soft mattress.

  The skin-to-skin crush sent shock waves through her. Her heart went wild, and heat surged in her blood. Their tongues dodged and darted, coaxing and caressing. She rubbed her fingers over the coarse golden hair and smoothed her hands over the contours of his muscles. When she scraped her short nails down his lower spine, his growl of satisfaction reverberated inside her.

  His hand slid across her abdomen and between her legs, to the slick folds that swelled for him. She shuddered with delight. He kissed her neck, licked at her needy nipples, then slid lower to find her with his tongue.

  Pleasure speared her and tension coiled in her belly. “Now, Jack, now!”

  In the next flash of lightning she saw a glint of foil. And then she took him into her body, and he stilled, his jaw clenched, straining for control. As the storm crashed and boomed outside, a raw jolt of power shot through her center that clenched and unclenched her muscles around him. Currents of sensation took her, tossed her, and she cried out his name.

  A shudder rippled through him. “Sophie, Sophie, I’ve never felt like this. Come with me.” And he began to thrust, plunging deep and pulling out, hot and wild and surging faster and faster.

  She gripped his shoulders, writhing beneath him, breathing in gasps. Shivers pulsed inside her, sparks fired, shimmers lapped higher, higher. The storm slashed its fury at the windows. The cataclysm rolled through her and burst into white, pulsing shock waves as he spasmed with her, his big body shuddering uncontrollably.

  They lay panting, wrapped together, joined as one, while they recovered from the storm.

  “Damn, did I hurt you?” Jack said, rolling to the side and smoothing back her hair. She couldn’t see his eyes in the dark but felt the worry in the bunched muscles of his arms. He held her as though she were made of glass.

  “I’m fine. More than fine.” She turned on her side. Snuggling closer, she cupped his beard-roughened chin with her hand. “I think we were competing with the storm.”

  He chuckled, and the tension eased in the bicep beneath her head. “Nice bed. Beats the hard ground at a tomb.” He drew one hand down the curve of her breast, to the indent of her waist and over the flare of her hip.

  She sighed with delight at the feel of his rough hand. “I don’t think that’s the bed you’re feeling.”

  “Better than a bed.” He rolled on his side to face her and kissed her with a promise of more to come.

  The lazy sweep of his tongue stirred a curl of need through her blood. She had thought she was thoroughly sated, but she wanted him again. And he wanted her, judging from the hard length pressing into her belly.

  “Sophie, listen. The storm’s past. It’s just raining lightly. We can take it slow and easy, like the rain.”

  “Slow and easy,” she agreed, but when he slid inside her, shock waves of need vibrated out to her fingertips.

  “The clock is ticking, Sebastian.”

  “Dak, Ahmed. I know.” Vadim gritted his teeth. The unconscious use of Cleatian could betray his anxiety. He had to be more careful, choose his words with caution. “My men have experienced difficulty. This American agent is slippery. I will have the package by Saturday. You can be certain.”

  “You have made such promises before. Was there not a play about a merchant of Venice who would extract a pound of flesh? I hope this situation will not come to that.”

  Vadim swallowed, schooled his voice to remain even. “I will bring the package to London myself.” With the authorities looking for him, he didn’t know how he might accomplish that, but it should calm his old friend.

  “You have until Monday to turn over the package.”

  When he heard a loud click, Vadim also disconnected.

  Monday.

  Until then, he must maintain complete security. No one must find him. Not this task force. Not Ahmed Saqr.

  Then, with or without the uranium, he must disappear.

  By morning the rain had rolled northward, leaving the sky washed clean for clear blue skies and baking sun. Jack and Sophie made love again, with the sunlight streaming its blessing in the window.

  They spent the day together. Jack invited Sophie to accompany him on his hill trek. He didn’t resist when she coaxed him to talk about David.

  She told him about her family, her stubborn sister and her mother, whose goal was to be CEO of the company where she worked. The corporate rat race wasn’t for her, Sophie insisted, but what lay ahead for her remained murky.

  Jack had a good idea about that, but she needed to find her path herself.

  As darkness swallowed the watercolor-daubed sky, he tossed his duffel into the Opel’s backseat.

  He glanced at the closed front door and pictured Sophie in the dining room, at her saint search, fruitless so far. He was beginning to wonder if the antique-shop purchase was a fake. Another scheme set up by Vadim. A way to ingratiate himself into her bed.

  Another nail in the dirtbag’s coffin. Even if it hadn’t worked.

  The car key jabbed his palm, and he forced open his fist.

  He’d told himself one more night with Sophie would be enough.

  Wrong. The emptiness in his heart proved him a liar.

  A thousand nights wouldn’t be enough.

  He dreaded saying goodbye, explaining why he had to leave her at the safe house alone.

  But he couldn’t stay. Especially after last night. More involvement with her would soften his resolve and be unfair to her. Maybe he could leave a note and just drive away.

  Hell. He couldn’t be that big a jerk. He owed her a face-to-face explanation. And reassurance.

  When he turned back to the house, he found Sophie waiting in the doorway.

  “I wonder
ed if you were leaving without me.” Her half smile and sad eyes said she suspected he was.

  Two shiny clips caught back her hair, leaving curly wisps around her face and the rest on her bare shoulders in dark waves. Her crossed arms drew his gaze to the plumped mounds of her breasts in the V-neck sundress. She looked sexy as hell but determined, not the fey-looking fragile creature she usually appeared. Not Venus but an Italian Valkyrie.

  Instead of chasing this bad guy, he’d rather carry her up to bed and take up where they’d left off this morning. But her little hum of impatience said she was waiting for his answer.

  “I’m leaving, but not without telling you goodbye.” His chest tightened at his glib words.

  She sauntered closer, hips swaying, and challenged him with flashing eyes. “Sweet. That makes a mega difference.”

  Sophie’s rare sarcasm speared him in the chest. Damn it, he was doing it this way to protect her. He felt his cheeks heat, jammed his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t reach for her. “I had word from Byrne last night. They’ve rolled up two of the Mafia thugs.”

  “Rolled up? You mean arrested?”

  He nodded. “The motorcyclist and his buddy in the Fiesta. When they started asking around about two Americans, suspicious locals called the polizia. Byrne’s cooperating Interpol agents stepped in.”

  “Now they’ll find Sebastian Vadim?”

  “Not that easy. Byrne said Tomasso—that’s the man we called Slick—hired them as backup. They know squat about Vadim.” He knew disappointment roughened his tone. Waiting for the next question, he held his breath.

  “What about Slick—uh, Tomasso?”

  “That’s what I was coming in to tell you.”

  She arched one dark eyebrow and cocked her head, not giving him an inch. Where was the sweet, compliant Sophie? This Sophie was breathing fire that singed his skin and heated his blood at the same time.

  He huffed out a sigh. “I talked to Byrne again just now. One of the hired thugs said they were supposed to meet Tomasso tomorrow morning in a hill town in this area. If I can grab him up, I might be able to get to Vadim.”

  “You, not Interpol.” She rolled her eyes and gestured with both hands in expansive Italian fashion.

  “They’ll back me up if I need it. The other thugs were flashing a photo of you.”

  A thoughtful frown creased her brow. “Vadim had a camera when he took me sightseeing. I’m still fuzzy, but I remember that much.”

  “Makes sense. But they might not know what I look like. This Tomasso won’t expect me to be alone.” Finally, after some fast talking, Byrne had agreed to support Jack’s plan. So with Sophie why did he feel like a kid conning his mom into buying him a pet boa constrictor?

  “Tomasso might not even know where Vadim is.” She heaved an impatient sigh. “Any more than I do.”

  “Vadim’s rent-a-gorilla is a hell of a lot more likely to know where his boss is than you do. I realized it while I tramped those damned hills. Of all the houses Vadim owns or has access to, how could you know which one he’s gone to ground in? And who’s to say he hasn’t moved ten times in the last two weeks?”

  “Then why does he want me dead?”

  “I think you know where the uranium is. There’s some connection we’re not making. Some clue we—you’re—missing.”

  Tears sheened her eyes, but she jutted her chin up in defiance. “Don’t you think I’m trying to remember?”

  “Aw, Sophie, I’m sorry.” He pulled her into his arms and did what he itched to do. He smoothed a hand over her back, threaded fingers through her silken hair and inhaled her unique scent, better than flowers. “I know you’d remember if you could.”

  “I go over and over in my mind what I do remember, but it doesn’t help,” she said, her breath warmly damp through his shirt. “Nothing connects. I see images of the two weeks at Vadim’s villa. They’re like clips from a weird, disjointed indie film.”

  “There’s some clue I should bing on. I feel it in my gut. Something that bothers me, but I can’t nail it down.”

  She gave her head a small shake, as if dismissing her distress. She stepped out of his arms. “This thug Tomasso is not Vadim. Can’t you let Interpol or the polizia arrest him?”

  “Don’t you get it? I can’t stand hearing long-distance about what’s going on. All this damned marching in place has stretched my nerves until I feel like I’ll snap like last night’s lightning. I won’t let Vadim get away.” He punched the air in frustration.

  Her gaze softened, and she slipped her arms around him. “You need to do something, to be in the action. I understand. But you’re not going to leave me alone here.”

  He ought to just go, but she felt so good. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “You’ll be safe. Nobody knows about this house.”

  She threw back her head and laughed. “Jack, everyone knows about this house. The whole town knows two Americans are staying in this farmhouse. What if Tomasso gets away and comes here? What if you don’t return?”

  The band around his chest tightened, but he wouldn’t let her dissuade him. “I won’t take you along on an op. That’s just plain nuts. The town where I’m headed is having a big market-and-antiques day. Hordes of shoppers. Too dangerous for you with that many people around.”

  “No way, Giovanni. I’m coming with you.”

  “What the hell do you think you’re going to do?”

  “For one, you don’t speak Italian.”

  That hit too close to the mark, but he’d get around that problem. “Damn it, woman. I’m a trained operative.”

  “He’s not looking for you. He’s looking for me. I can be the bait. Let me help.”

  “Negative. I’ll be back in a day or so. I’ll leave you my other cell. Byrne is number one on the speed dial.”

  “Magnifico. A man thousands of miles across the Atlantic will save me if you miss Tomasso and he shows up here. Negative back at you, Jack. If you don’t take me, I’ll find a way to follow you. Arturo will let me borrow his fruttivendolo truck or Bianca at the trattoria will lend me her Renault.”

  Arguing would achieve nothing except sear his belly with acid. She didn’t know where he was headed. He had to call her bluff.

  Ducking his head so he wouldn’t see the thunderbolts shooting from her eyes, he opened the car door. As he began to fold himself into the driver’s seat, Sophie’s voice stopped him faster than a stun gun.

  “Fiorasole isn’t far away. I’ll see you there.”

  Chapter 14

  Sophie nearly wept with relief that her words had stopped Jack. Now she had a better chance to convince him that he had no alternative but to let her help. If he found this Tomasso and learned Vadim’s hideout, he would try to kill him.

  But not with her glued to his side.

  “How do you know the name of the market town?” He stalked around the car to confront her, fists on his lean hips.

  Was it anger or resignation that deepened his voice and tightened the skin across his cheekbones? Her heart thudded, but she knew he’d never hurt her. She wouldn’t back down.

  She drew her lips into a satisfied-cat smile, although trepidation churned her stomach. “The Fiorasole Market Saturday is a big event in this area. Everyone goes. There are flyers all over Giordano advertising it.”

  Linking her arm with his, she began to stroll toward the back garden. When he didn’t resist, she knew she’d won. She resisted a sigh of relief.

  On the terrace she turned to him, flattening her palm over his scudding heart. The fragrance of oleander and spiky yellow broom wrapped around them in the encroaching dusk. “Stay here tonight and make a plan. We’ll go to Fiorasole together tomorrow. It’ll be all right. You’ll see.”

  “You’re not going to stop me from getting Vadim.”

  His perception shouldn’t surprise her. He read people well. She might as well own up. “I intend to try. If you go after Vadim and kill him, supposing you live, you’ll never find peace.”

&nb
sp; “Maybe not. But I will have kept my promise to my son and his mother. My pain will be eased.”

  His words tore at her heart. “I know about revenge, a poison deep in Italian roots. Revenge doesn’t heal. Revenge only pollutes grief and infuses more pain.”

  He tilted his head and regarded her with too-sharp awareness. “You sound like the voice of experience. What revenge is in your past?”

  No sidetracking allowed. She would save Great-Uncle Vinnie for another day. “Hello, we’re talking about you, Jack. Not about me.”

  “Hello, but we are talking about you.” He lifted her hand to his lips. Anxiety filled his eyes. “Don’t ask me to dangle you on a hook. Byrne checked out this Tomasso. He’s a soulless killer who works for a Mafia don.”

  Picturing the man, his dead eyes and his predatory demeanor, she shuddered, and not from the sensual touch of Jack’s lips on her palm. The taste of fear was acrid on her tongue. Fear grabbed her by the throat. Fear could drag her down, but she wouldn’t acquiesce.

  “This situation’s not the same, not like your family. I’m already in danger because of something I may know. Sebastian Vadim is responsible, not you.”

  “Damn it, I know that. But I care about you. A lot. Not to mention that you’re a civilian under my protection, not a professional operative. What kind of protector throws his charge to the wolves?”

  “A smart one who sees he has no choice?”

  He emitted a growl from between clenched teeth and brushed a kiss on her lips. “A cornered one who has no choice. I must be—what did you say, pazzo? That means crazy, but what’s the rest of it?”

  “Pazzo da legare. It means tied up, ready for the loony bin. I didn’t really mean it.”

  “Yeah, right. But this pazzo decision verifies it.”

  “So you’ll agree? You’ll let me help set the trap?”

  The warmth of his smile wrapped around her. He cradled her head between his hands, curling warmth from her scalp down through her body. “I’m damned impressed at your courage. Yes, sweet Sophie, tomorrow we’re partners.”

  “Partners,” she agreed as he rocked his mouth over hers.