The Chameleon

by Michele Hauf

Forty-five minutes later they arrived at Saskia’s small but long flat, three stories above a quaint main street that edged Helsinki’s business district. Jack had unpacked the few groceries they’d picked up and now he rolled up his shirt sleeves and got to making pasta. Not because she’d requested he cook, but because he was hungry. He didn’t intend to do anything to please the duplicitous woman.

  She was tricky and remarkably skilled with disguises. To have insinuated herself into his path since he’d boarded the ferry at Stockholm had been genius.

  Was it possible she’d been on him since before Stockholm? He didn’t want to consider it. If so, that could only mean he was slipping. Big time.

  Now he had to work with the sneaky Saskia Petrovik. He’d fucked her! She’d been…so good. Soft, hot, and more than willing. As horny as he had been. And that arse in his hands. Whew! How was he supposed to act around her now that he knew?

  Cool and calm, Jack. Just keep it together for the next week.

  And stay sharp. He would not let that woman fool him again any time soon. Of course, it was no longer in her interest to do so. They were a team now. Had to work as a crew to accomplish the task.

  Would he ever be able to follow her anywhere now and not imagine that sweet arse in his hands?

  They’d left his rental car behind at the Hotel Hop, because she’d argued that they’d be tied at the hip anyway. Jack had begrudgingly agreed. Now, he stood over the stove, stirring tomato sauce for the lasagna. Cooking took his mind away from all things covert and high stress. And illegal.

  Just this one final job, and then he was going to walk away from it all. The Elite Crimes Unit would never willingly let him go. But he had a way around that small detail. Besides, he hadn’t a choice. It was do or die right now for the Angelo family, and, despite the do or die promise he’d made to the ECU and vacillating over if it was the right thing to do, Jack couldn’t stand by and let things fall apart in his own family. No matter the consequences. And they were grave.

  It was around eight p.m., and the sky facing away from the city was already coal dark. Saskia sat on the long and low brown leather sofa, which faced a broad window overlooking the main street below. Streetlights provided illumination on the notebook she scribbled in. Her straight dark hair fell over her shoulders to her elbows. Dark eyeshadow outlined her blue eyes and gave her the look of an Egyptian queen.

  He had held that woman against the wall and sunk his cock inside her. It had been a moment of need, of agreed want and desire. Something he hadn’t felt guilty for, and normally never would.

  But now to know she’d been using him…? How to feel about that heinous bit of information? He should let it slide. And he could. Maybe. But how many other men had she fucked to get what she needed? Did it bother her?

  Why the hell did he care? He was not an upstanding citizen. Though while working for the ECU, his focus had been putting away criminals. But it was just another disguise he wore. That of getting along with others, pulling his weight, doing what he was told.

  He had to stop thinking about this. It would only drive him crazy, and he needed to keep his cool.

  “That smells delicious,” she called without looking up from her notebook.

  “It’s my mother’s recipe.”

  “Your Irish mother made lasagna?”

  “What makes you think she was Irish?”

  “Well, you’ve got the brogue. Though, I guess the last name doesn’t fit.”

  Indeed, he did have the accent, though it battled with the Italian in him when he got angry. “My Irish mother learned to make lasagna from my Italian nonna,” he said. “I’m half and half. But I got my Italian father’s good looks.”

  “I guess you did.”

  He paused from stirring the sauce to analyze the tone of that reply. Had it been appreciative? He smiled to himself.

  “So what did you get from your mother besides some recipes?” Saskia changed her tactic.

  “Her temper.”

  She turned and looked at him over the back of the sofa. No wig, colored contacts, or disguise. Just plain Saskia. Or was she? Jack wasn’t sure how to read her now. Could he ever trust someone so at ease with shifting her mannerisms and looks?

  “If you’ve got your mother’s temper, then who taught you to fight? I mean, I was told you’re excellent muscle. And I have been at the receiving end of your fist.”

  “You have not. I pulled my punch in the hotel. Trust me, you’d know it if my fist met your face. Both my parents taught me how to protect myself and to make others understand it’s not nice to screw the Angelos over. You like mushrooms?”

  “Sure. So you only do bank jobs?”

  As an ECU asset, his job required he play a role, fit himself in with the crew to suss out the true nature of their crime. But sometimes he didn’t have to lie to create his character. It came naturally. Because, hell, he’d had a lot of experience.

  “Not always. Smuggling is a jolly good time.”

  “And roughing people up?”

  “It’s called beating the bloody shite out of them. You can call it like it is. I’m a big boy.”

  “That you are. My big Irish bull.” With a wink, she turned on the sofa and bowed her head over the notebook again.

  And Jack wasn’t sure how to take that comment. That he was a big bull because…? Of his cock? She knew him in ways he hadn’t anticipated. He’d been inside her. With his big bull. Heh. Yeah, that’s what she’d meant.

  Maybe.

  Ah hell, she was screwing with his mind again. He had to stop falling into her sneaky games.

  Pouring the pot into the sink, he drained out the water and then grabbed a steamy sheet of limp pasta to lay in the pan. Tomato sauce with extra oregano—because he liked to actually smell it—and lots of ricotta. No meat. Saskia had pooh-poohed meat in the store. Whatever. He assembled the dish and put it in the oven.

  Then, with just the quiet darkness and the sensual woman seated close with her back to him, he flexed his fingers in and out of fists. Nope. Not going to sit next to her. Felt awkward. And… Don’t think about her arse.

  He swung around the kitchen counter and pulled out his cell phone to look busy. This was a burner he’d picked up in Stockholm. The ECU did not have this number. The text he’d been expecting was there. It detailed a dollar amount in English pounds. The exchange location and time hadn’t been set though. They were giving him time to collect a million pounds. Bloody fucking lovely. Jonny had really gotten in over his head this time. The idiot.

  A return text wasn’t necessary. Jack either complied or Jonny died.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he exhaled. Find your center, buddy. Just hold it together.

  Tucking away that phone, he pulled out the other, which was a fancy smartphone. He scrolled to the solitaire game he often played when he needed to zone out and go mindless to defeat the anxiety that always threatened to come out as punches. He had so much to worry about he could almost relate to those times his mother had cursed him and his brother for going missing for days and leaving her an absolute mess wondering if they were dead and dumped in the Irish Sea.

  He’d do right by her this time. Or die trying.

  Half an hour later, the lasagna was cut and consumed. Saskia impressed Jack by eating three large squares. He hadn’t had a decent meal since the ferry ride. There were no leftovers.

  “My thanks to your mother,” she said with a wink. “There’s something about a momma’s boy.”

  “Oi. I am not a momma’s boy,” he defended.

  “Don’t take offense. I like a man who respects women. You could have done some real damage to me in the hotel room.” Another wink.

  “Beating on women is not my thing.”

  “What if one came at you with a knife?”

  “I know how to disarm an assailant without harming them. Not too muc
h anyway. A little hurt does serve its purpose. Depends on whether or not the woman has pissed me off bloody right.”

  “I’ll remember that for future reference. I’m going to hit the hay. It’s been a long day, what with the ferry ride and, seriously, that bladder routine was the real thing. I had to pee so bad waiting for you to finally return and have a little conversation with me.

  “You can have the room to the right of the bathroom,” she offered as she aimed toward the back of the apartment. “There’s fresh sheets on the bed, but no extra blanket. Sorry! The place only provided so many linens. And it does get cold in here at night. I think the building superintendent keeps the temperature regulated to just above freezing. See you in the morning, Jack Angelo. Sweet dreams.”

  She strolled back toward the bedrooms, pulling the shirt over her head as she did so, revealing her bare back—no bra—which successfully kickstarted Jack’s wet dreams for the night.

  Chapter 5

  Thankful he’d gotten a good night’s sleep after days of traveling, Jack soaped up under the steaming hot water. He’d slept like a dead dog, despite the chilly room. Which was why he had the water cranked as hot as possible. First item on the list today? Buy an electric blanket. It would be an expense worth its weight in gold.

  Turning to face the water stream, he slicked off the soap from his eyes and mouth. He couldn’t smell the soap and just hoped it didn’t have a floral scent. Not very manly.

  When a hand suddenly stroked up the side of his ribcage, he jumped and yelped. Slapping a palm to the tile wall, he prevented a sudden slip. Turning around in the tub, he faced a very naked, wet woman, who was laughing.

  “What the bloody hell?”

  She was already soaping up her arms and her tits jiggled as she slicked over them. Nice big handfuls, that. The nipples were red and so tight.

  “Only got five minutes of hot water a day,” Saskia said. “You’re going to have to share, Angelo.”

  “I don’t think so.” His hand instinctively moved down to protect his privates. “You’re… You’re naked.”

  “Yeah? That’s generally how a person takes a shower, smart guy. Move over. You’re clean. Let me at the hot stuff while I still have a chance.”

  “This is not right. You can’t climb in with a bloke and think it doesn’t matter.”

  “Oh, come on, Jack. What is the problem? You’ve already fucked me.”

  “Yeah, but you weren’t naked then.”

  Her laughter did not alleviate the tense situation. “Think about that one for a second,” she said. “You didn’t even manage to get my clothes off you were so hot for me.”

  “As you were for me.”

  “Oh yeah.” She slapped a hand to his chest and curled in her nails.

  The erotic dig sparked through Jack’s system, and his cock bobbed. He was not going to let her have this round. He couldn’t. He just… “Where’s the towel? Christ, don’t press up against me.”

  “Why? Mm, you get a hard-on in the shower. Now that is impressive.”

  With a curse, Jack gripped his erection to keep it from brushing any slick, sensual part of her body. He stepped out of the shower, away from the woman who now hummed a tune as she began to rinse under the water that, indeed, was growing cooler. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, but it was short, and his hard-on poked through the gap.

  “Christ on a piece of toast.”

  She was good. He could admit to that defeat. Again.

  Stomping out of the bathroom, dripping, he sucked in his breath as the chill air outside the steam-filled room worked to instantly deflate his boner. He left the bathroom door open and waved his hands toward it. Maybe some of the cold air would sweep in on her. She deserved the brisk slap to her senses. And those tits.

  Shaking his head, he wandered into the bedroom, thinking a smart man would have not abandoned ship so quickly. He might have even gone round two with the bird who apparently seemed open to anything involving naked bodies. Or even only partially disrobed bodies.

  Was it a game? Or something more?

  He didn’t like to feel off-balance when working with others. And most especially with a woman whom he was attracted to. That woman had the ability to throw him off in spades.

  He pulled on a clean shirt, then cursed because he hadn’t dried off yet and his wet skin soaked the shirt, making it impossible to tug up the sleeves beyond his biceps.

  Dropping his arms, and sighing, all he could manage was a defeated, “Shite.”

  * * * *

  While her main goal had been to take advantage of the hot water, Saskia wouldn’t discount catching the man by surprise and setting him off kilter. The look on his face would serve her giggles for days. The instant his gaze had averted to her breasts, she’d noted his erection had sprung upright. Oh, how easy it was to control the male species with but a flash of tit.

  She had cornered the bull and made him lower his mighty horns.

  Something not quite so satisfying about that win. It felt…stolen. Huh.

  As the water quickly cooled, she rinsed her hair and then stepped out just as it turned to fluid streams of ice.

  There were no clean towels. The apartment hadn’t provided any more than two, and the other was sitting in the hamper waiting for the laundromat. But there was a foldable blow dryer tucked away on a shelf above the vanity. Flipping it on, she blasted the air up and down her body, drying off in the comfort of warm spurts of air.

  Noticing Jack had left the bathroom door open, she didn’t close it. She wasn’t hung up about nudity and certainly she was not a woman to tease a man.

  Not a man like Jack Angelo. She’d had a taste of him, and she was ready for the full course. Whenever he was willing to serve it. But she wouldn’t push him. Not too much, anyway. But it was a delicate balance, this sharing of the apartment, working together, and her being assigned to tail the man’s every move. Alliances would be tested, for certain.

  Saskia knew exactly where her alliances stood, and she would not falter from them. She loved her job, and wanted to continue doing it as long as she was able.

  Now, to learn just where Jack Angelo stood on the scale of trust and alliance.

  Her cell phone rang, vibrating on the vanity. It was Clive. He relayed that he’d received the heavy-duty industrial drill he’d ordered specifically for this job but the shipper was holding on to it and asking for more than the agreed price. Clive wanted to bring Jack along as muscle. He was on his way to her apartment right now.

  “I’ll send him down in five,” Saskia said and hung up. “Jack, darling!”

  The man peeked into the steamy bathroom from out in the hallway. He’d put on the suit and tie. She was still naked, but her hair was now dry. He stepped back so as not to look directly at her. Cute.

  “Ah, come on, Jack. You never seen a naked woman before?”

  He curled around the corner, drawing his gaze up and down her length. With a shrug he offered a forced, “All the time.”

  Oh, sweet man who was struggling with so much right now. Was it the Catholic in him? With his bloodline he had to be Catholic. All that delicious guilt that she could dip her fingers into and stir into a mess.

  “That was Clive on the phone,” she said, as she fluffed her hair. Tilting a hip against the vanity, she thrust back a shoulder, which made her breasts jiggle. “He needs your tough guy skills. He’s stopping by to pick you up in five minutes. He drives a black BMW.”

  “Fine. You going to get dressed today?”

  She shrugged. “You like me naked?”

  With a groan that made her wonder if he wasn’t sexually repressed, the man wandered off, but he called out, “I’m going to buy a blanket while I’m out. You need anything?”

  “Bring back something to make for supper!”

  Hey, if the man liked to cook, she wasn’t t
he woman to stand in his culinary way.

  Now, how to get what she wanted from him—more sex, and preferably longer and slower this time—without compromising the job? Wasn’t as if sex was off the table. The only trouble was how it would mess with the man’s mind if he screwed her again. For the sake of the job, she needed him to be in top form.

  Was Jack Angelo like an athlete who needed to abstain before the big event, or would stoking his fire serve him the focus and energy required to pull off the heist?

  “I’ll have to dive in and take my chances,” she muttered as the man closed the door behind him and left her alone and suddenly shivering.

  * * * *

  Clive pulled the bimmer before a long stretch of sea-weathered and rusted warehouses that were filed in rows before the Baltic sea. This was not a main shipping port but rather an old and forgotten cove that rarely saw any sizable arrivals.

  Clive hadn’t said much to Jack on the drive here, other than to ask how it was going with Sass. Fine by him. He wasn’t a chatty person. And besides, a man could determine more about another man from his silences. Clive was overconfident, but not stupid.

  Jack was the first to ask, “Shipment gone bad?”

  “The shipment arrived,” Clive confirmed. “But the receiver is holding tight to it until I cough up more than the pre-arranged price. That makes him an idiot.”

  “You’ve worked with him before?”

  “No, and I never will again. This should be an easy pickup. Go in, flash some muscle, walk out with the drill at the price we agreed on. But, like most idiots, they tend to push things beyond their control. You prepared to make the man stand by his word, Jack?”

  “Always,” Jack offered calmly. It was what he did. Use muscle to show others the wrongness of their ways. It had worked on him, after all. His father had never missed a punch. He shrugged off his overcoat, then adjusted his tie. “Lead the way.”

  “I like you, Jack. A man of few words, but your actions speak boldly. I’m glad I took Sass up on her recommendation for you.” The man opened the car and got out.

  And Jack followed, but now he had that information pinging his thoughts. Saskia had recommended him? How did she know him? She didn’t. And as far as he knew, the ECU had been instrumental in insinuating him onto this crew. Were his previous suspicions true? That she’d been following him far longer than from Stockholm? Didn’t make sense. And his reputation for being a team player on bank heists could have only come from information years ago when he’d been out and working the streets.