Seducing the Accomplice

by Jennifer Morey

  Tirana faded from her passenger window and an open, shrubby landscape took its place. The mountainous background was breathtaking under a clear blue sky.

  “Did Odie find us a shooting range or something?” she couldn’t resist asking.

  This time he smiled a little at her sarcasm. “No. I didn’t need Odie for this one. We’ll just go somewhere out of town. I know a place.”

  As soon as he said it, he slowed and turned onto a dirt road that wound its way up a mountain. At a clearing among a forest of pine trees, he finally stopped.

  Picking up a box of ammunition from the backseat, he opened the car door and got out. Following him away from their stolen car, Sadie saw him remove the also stolen gun from his waist.

  He extended the gun to her.

  “Is it loaded?”

  “Of course it is. Just take it.” He picked up her hand with his free one and placed the handle in her palm.

  She had to curl her fingers around the handle to keep from dropping it as he pulled his hand away.

  He pointed to a lever. “This will release the magazine.” He did it for her and the magazine popped free of the handle.

  “Can’t I just fire it if I have to?”

  “Take it out.”

  She pulled the magazine from the gun and saw bullets inside. They reminded her of what she’d seen yesterday.

  “Put it back in.”

  She looked up at him and then shoved the magazine back into the gun, venting her frustration.

  “You check it by giving it a tug.” He moved closer and showed her with his fingers rubbing against hers, but she felt the firmness of the magazine.

  “It’s full but you can get one more cartridge in the pistol.”

  How could he tell?

  “This is called the slide.” He pulled the top of the gun back and she saw a cartridge appear in the opening, making room for one more in the magazine.

  “Ah,” she murmured.

  When he released the slide, he pressed the magazine release and it snapped loose. She removed it.

  He took it from her and bent to open the box of ammunition that he’d put on the ground and took out a cartridge.

  “You load the magazine rim first. Like this.” He showed her and then removed the bullet to hand it to her along with the gun.

  She tried to push the bullet cartridge into the magazine, but it was stiff and difficult with her small fingers. He’d made it look so easy. Her fingers slipped.

  “Hold it like this,” he said, moving around her and placing the gun back in her hands.

  She looked up and over her shoulder at him. He was all business now. He wanted her to learn how to shoot and that was all that mattered. He didn’t care about her klutziness.

  “Use both hands and keep the barrel down.”

  Warmth edged its way through her core. He was a good teacher. Patient.

  “Here.” He handed her a cartridge.

  She took it and worked once again to insert it into the gun. Calan waited until she finally maneuvered the cartridge inside.

  “Good. Now put the magazine back into the gun.”

  Smiling her triumph, she did as he asked. “I’m not going to shoot anyone, you know.”

  He moved around to her backside. “The key to this is lining these two rear sights with the front sight.” He guided her arm so she raised it. “You aim the front sight so that it’s centered between the rear sights. And you adjust your aim if it’s windy.”

  She angled her head to look up at him. “I adjust my aim?” She doubted she’d ever get good enough at this to have to remember that.

  “I just want you to be able to hit someone before they hit you.”

  Put that way, she faced the trunk of a tree about a hundred feet away and made a gallant effort to aim well. She pulled the trigger and the pistol kicked back hard, forcing her hands up and making her bump into Calan.

  “Good. Keep firing. Get a feel for how the pistol fires,” he said. “That’s why I wanted you to practice. You’ll get used to it and it won’t jerk you like that.”

  “Did I hit the tree?”

  “No. You were off by about ten feet.”

  Ten feet?

  “Shoot again.”

  She concentrated on the forward sight of the pistol and fired when she thought she had the tree lined up the way he’d instructed. The pistol kicked back again but she didn’t lose her balance and this time she saw dirt displaced by her shot.

  “Closer,” he said.

  She fired again. Bark flew off the tree trunk.

  “Yes!” She fired until the magazine was empty, hitting the tree three more times.

  “You’re a natural. I’m impressed.”

  She turned to face him, warmed by his compliment but not having any illusions about her prowess with weapons. “I’m not going to miraculously turn into Wyatt Earp after an hour of this, you know.”

  He smiled. “Like I said, I just want you to be able to hit a body.”

  The idea of that didn’t appeal to her much. “What if I can’t? I mean, what if I can’t shoot another person?” She couldn’t handle seeing someone get shot. How could she expect to shoot anyone?

  “If they’re firing at you, you’ll fire back, trust me.”

  More like she’d run away. But she didn’t tell him that.

  The way Sadie handled the Beretta convinced Calan that she was tougher than either of them thought. Or maybe that was just him. Alert and beautiful, she walked beside him toward a restaurant on Bulevardi Bajram Curri. They’d already gone to the government ministry building, but a woman had told them Murati was out for a late lunch at the Villa Fendy.

  Calan opened the restaurant door for her and she preceded him inside. White tablecloths covered wood tables that matched the wood trim around windows and a glass-partitioned private dining room.

  A woman with dark eyes and hair that was pulled tightly back into a clip watched them approach. “Two?”

  “We’re looking for someone,” he told the hostess, who gave a half bow and extended her arm in invitation for them to pass.

  Calan put his hand on Sadie’s lower back and they walked through the restaurant. He searched the tables and spotted Murati conversing with another man. Calan had only seen pictures of him, but he looked more clean-shaven in person.

  He approached and stopped at the table, Sadie by his side. Murati looked up with his lunch companion and his brow went from inquiry to recognition. Unwelcomed recognition. Odie had sent him Calan’s picture in case something went wrong.

  “You should not have come here.”

  “You and I have something to discuss.”

  “I am in a meeting. It will have to wait.”

  Calan reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet, opening it to retrieve the business card. “No, I’m afraid this can’t wait.” He showed Murati the card.

  His companion looked at it, too, but Calan knew he couldn’t read it from where he sat.

  Murati’s eyes lifted. Calan patiently met his gaze. Then Murati turned to his companion.

  “Will you excuse me for a few moments?”

  “Certainly,” the man said, shifting his curious gaze to Calan and then Sadie, lingering there.

  Murati rose and, glaring at Calan, passed him and led him and Sadie to the front of the café. The hostess watched them questioningly as they left through the front door.

  Outside, Murati turned to face Calan.

  “What is the meaning of this?”

  Calan held up the card. “Start talking.”

  “Who are you?”

  Calan chuckled darkly. “Don’t play games with me.” He held the card in front of his face. “Who is this?”

  Murati didn’t respond. Telling him would probably guarantee his death.

  “Who did you work with to arrange our flight here?”

  “I cannot reveal that information to you. Now please go. If anyone sees you with me—”

  Calan stepped closer. “I don
’t have much to lose by killing you. I think you know that.”

  The man’s eyes flickered back and forth between Calan’s.

  “Just tell me who you worked with,” Calan said. He had to get something from him. Some kind of lead.

  “Arber Andoni.”

  “Did Andoni kill my pilot?”

  Murati looked nervously from his left to his right, checking the sidewalk and the street. People walked to and fro but none took notice of them. “No. It was not him.”

  Calan lifted his eyebrows. “No? Was it this man?” He held the card up in front of Murati’s face.

  Murati’s eyes grew fearful and he didn’t answer.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Sadie slid her hand under his arm and rested her hand on his forearm, which let him know she didn’t like this.

  “You have no idea what you are doing.”

  “Then enlighten me.”

  “You have interfered where you should not. Our agreement would have gone as planned had you not done so. There is nothing I can do for you now. Our business is finished. Leave now, and never return.”

  “Under any other circumstances, I’d have to agree with you. But this is much different than I anticipated. Whoever is after me has ties from Albania to Montenegro.”

  “It goes much farther than that, my friend.” It was a piece of information offered genuinely. The man wanted Calan to believe him. Believe, and get away.

  “Tell me what I need to know. Then I’ll consider leaving.”

  Murati contemplated him a moment and then relented. “I do business with Arber Andoni. He is a good man. But he is close to Zhafa.”

  “I thought you didn’t know Gjergj Zhafa.”

  “He is a dangerous man.” Murati didn’t acknowledge the charge. “Not one to cross. That is why I ask you again, Mr. Friese, to kindly leave. I have a family. Surely you understand.”

  Yes, he did understand. More than any man should. Which was why he couldn’t leave. “Where can I find Andoni?”

  Murati shook his head.

  “Where does he live? You can at least tell me that much.”

  He shook his head again. “I cannot.”

  “If you don’t tell me, I’ll find out on my own. I have the resources to do it.”

  Sputtering something fervently in Albanian, Murati said, “Stupid man. Do you have a pen?”

  Sadie dug into her handbag and produced one.

  Murati took that and then the business card from Calan. He wrote something down on the card. Handing the card back to Calan, he said, “Do not go to him at his home. Do not frighten his wife and children. There is no need.”

  “What will I find at this address?” Calan put the card back into his wallet.

  “He is attending a party tonight. The restaurant at this address was privately reserved. I can anonymously arrange for you to be invited so that it does not appear you are seeking him out.” Murati told him the time and place of the benefit. “It is a formal affair. Black tie. I will register you as Calan Friese and a guest.”

  Since Zhafa already knew who he was, he didn’t see any harm in using his own name. Nodding his appreciation, Calan turned to Sadie. “Let’s go.” He wouldn’t get any more out of Murati anyway. He didn’t want to force him, either. Call him soft. He knew too much about protecting his own not to be soft when it came to things like this.

  “Mr. Friese,” Murati called as Calan put his hand on Sadie’s lower back to get her moving.

  He turned his head toward the man.

  “You did not hear of the dinner from me.”

  Again, Calan nodded. “No one will know we were here.”

  “Thank you,” Sadie said to Murati, her innocence painfully obvious. She clearly didn’t belong in Calan’s company. Not in this situation.

  When they were far enough away, he said, “Thank you?”

  “I felt sorry for him. What if he turns up dead like all the others who’ve crossed your path?”

  “He won’t. Andoni needs him. Without him, he doesn’t have government approval. He’d be shut down.”

  “Still. You scared him.”

  “Scared him. Murati is making a lot of money on bribes. Andoni is probably his biggest donator.”

  “And Zhafa?”

  Murati wouldn’t have told him about the benefit if he hadn’t known Zhafa would be there. “Zhafa is something else.”

  “Yeah, and that’s what worries me. He’s going to recognize us.”

  “It’ll be too public. He won’t do anything there.” Afterward was another matter.

  “So we’re just going to act like we belong there?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t think I can pretend about that.”

  “I’ll help you. Don’t worry.”

  She didn’t seem convinced.

  It was important that she not make them stand out in a crowd tonight.

  Before flagging down a taxi, he slipped Sadie’s hand in his and tugged her so that she turned and bumped against him, her hands landing on his chest. While she stared up at him with startled eyes, he slid his arm around her and pulled her closer.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said.

  Her transparent, sea-blue eyes remained wide and searching. Somehow he needed to find a way to take her mind off the danger. He did what came naturally.

  Lifting his hand, he ran his fingers along her face to the back of her head, sinking his fingers into her soft hair. Her eyes half-mooned with desire and he was glad to see it was that easy. It fired a surge of answering response in him. Like a switch, she was back in his arms.

  “Sadie,” he murmured.

  She tipped her head back a little and he heard her breathing through her parted lips. He pressed his to them.

  A sound erupted from her and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He felt her feminine curves against him and ran his hand down to her ass.

  He wished they were somewhere private. Raising his head, he looked down at her sultry face and the way her eyes drowned with his. He wanted her so much he ached. Good for both of them they didn’t have time.

  Chapter 8

  Tension hung thick in the taxi as it rolled to a stop in front of an upscale Italian restaurant in the heart of downtown Tirana. More than once today, he’d almost taken Sadie back to the pension. Only the urgency in finding dress clothes had stopped him, that and the way Sadie had sulked the entire time. She wasn’t happy with the way he’d shown her that nothing had changed between them.

  He got out of the car and extended his hand to her.

  She hesitated.

  Being together disconcerted him, too. Seeing her in that dress after she’d come upstairs from the bathroom hadn’t helped. By the time he finished taking in her long legs and those shapely hips and tasteful amount of cleavage exposed in that tightly fitted black dress, he’d caught her checking him out, too. The desire was always there, a beast that needed constant taming…or relief. And there was only one way to take care of that, the way they both needed to avoid. He wasn’t sure how much longer either of them could fight it. The night at the villa had teased them both with a taste. After kissing her today, the zapping energy between them might as well set the taxi on fire.

  Was he confusing what he felt for her with phenomenal sex? It was that good with her, but how could he turn away from Kate like that? So easily.

  At last, Sadie gave him her hand. When she stood, he didn’t want to move. He just wanted to keep looking at her beautiful face, lightly made up with soft tendrils of hair falling around it from her artfully arranged updo.

  “Remember, it’s too public for Zhafa to do anything. We’ll be fine as long as we’re careful.” Shutting the taxi door, he stepped onto the sidewalk with her.

  “Public is good,” she said.

  Hearing her double meaning, he smiled and guided her to the entrance. He told the doorman they were there for Andoni’s party. The doorman allowed them to pass.

  Inside,
a band played a jazzy tune. Chandeliers were set low to shed romantic light on the wide, open room of white-topped tables. Men in suits and women in varying styles and colors of cocktail dresses nearly filled all the tables. He’d deliberately made sure he and Sadie showed up fashionably late. Too early could be dangerous.

  Scanning the room, he spotted Andoni. He sat at a table with a lovely dark-haired woman whose diamonds sparkled like strobe lights, and another couple.

  A waiter appeared with a tray of champagne and said a word in Albanian that must have been, “Champagne?”

  “Grazie.” He took two glasses and handed Sadie one of them.

  She took it and met his eyes as she sipped.

  Seeing a table that would give him a good view of Andoni, he put his free hand on Sadie’s lower back and guided her there, not missing virtually every man they passed turning to stare at her.

  On a typical day, Sadie wasn’t an extraordinary beauty, but the way she’d enhanced her features and displayed the enticing shape of her body highlighted her interesting good looks. She had her own brand of beauty, the kind that grew on a man so that he never got tired of looking at her. Nothing Barbie about her.

  Waiting until she sat first, Calan sat beside her, facing Andoni. The man hadn’t looked their way yet, and no one else seemed to notice them, either. That was good.

  “Where is he?” Sadie asked.

  “In front of the dance floor.”

  She looked toward the dance floor and the band. “The one with the woman in all the bling?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Is the man sitting with them Zhafa?”

  “I don’t know.” He watched a man from the table next to them get up and lean down to talk to Andoni’s wife. He was an older man. Calan looked at everyone sitting at the table he’d vacated. Three men and one unhappy-looking woman.

  “That man talking to them came from the big group over there,” Sadie said.

  Her observation unexpectedly impressed him. “Yeah, I noticed that, too.”

  “What are we going to do? Just watch?”