She needed to be on guard with Joshua.
Provided she could track him down again, of course.
Staring out at the marketplace, Lindy took a sip of rapidly cooling Earl Grey and cleared away the surplus emotion. She couldn’t let the surprise and pleasure and shame of what she’d experienced in his arms last night interfere with her work. Not when she needed her analytical abilities honed to the nth degree.
After hours of playing the process-of-elimination game, she knew Joshua had switched aliases again. Unfortunately, this time he’d apparently switched to one she couldn’t trace. She’d spent an hour running the list of men who’d traveled alone via various means from London during the time frame, but she could only go down so many layers in the time available.
So far, each name had come up real. That didn’t mean the man behind the name was real, of course, just that she didn’t have the time to keep digging until the trail ended. She should have called Blythe for backup long ago, but with the turn this mission had taken in a secret passageway last night, she’d rather not give Malcolm any reason to start asking questions.
As much as Lindy hated to admit defeat, she didn’t see another choice. She needed to backtrack and trace Joshua’s money trail from last night with the hope she could uncover some clue as to what he might be up to today.
Unfortunately, diving into the extensive worldwide network where crime syndicates laundered money to find out where Joshua had hidden his would take time—exactly the commodity she lacked. To stay in the game meant keeping up with the man. If he got a full day ahead, he’d move beyond her reach, and the game would be as good as over.
Lindy had no intention of falling out of the race.
She’d made a bloody study of Henri Renouf and knew his trusted associates were few and far between. Joshua Benedict was her window to the man. Period.
So, the money trail it must be, which meant…
Inhaling deeply of the wet dawn air, Lindy turned back to the room, her tired body aching in protest as she sat in front of her notebook computer where she’d spent most of the night. She was admittedly knackered—no sleep and orgasms combined to take a toll—but she willed away all physical traces of weariness and got back to work.
Her fingers flew through the keystrokes as she secured a connection and waited for a familiar face to appear on the monitor. “G’morning, Blythe.”
“Morning, is it?”
“Haven’t shut your eyes yet?”
“Shiiit,” Blythe exhaled the profanity on one long breath.
As Blythe was cranky before three o’clock in the afternoon on the best of days, Lindy just raised her teacup in a silent suggestion to try more caffeine. A cure-all.
“What do you want, Gardner? In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a little busy monitoring an active mission here. And where the hell is your report? Malcolm’s curious about how you got to Number One Safe House. If you’d care to share the details, of course. I hope you are because the man is getting crabbier by the hour. You know how he hates being out of the loop.”
“I’ll send him my report—as soon as you help me track down a money trail.”
“Bloody hell, Lindy. I’m not your damn lady’s maid. I told you I’d assign you backup.”
“But you’re the best, Blythe. I just need two minutes.”
Which was a shameless stretch of the truth, as they both knew. The network of banks, companies and countries where Joshua might have hidden his funds was as expansive as the globe, which was why Lindy needed Blythe exclusively. Otherwise, she didn’t stand a chance of tracking down a money trail that might bounce around the world like a drunken ping-pong ball.
“Please.” Lindy tried to sound sweet.
“Quit your whining. It’s too early. Or is that late?” Blythe glanced around at the row of clocks displaying international times on the wall then narrowing a gaze so thick with liner her eyes became black slits. “Two minutes, Gardner. Clock’s ticking.”
Vienna, where spring storms douse the nooks and crannies of this historic city and lightning strikes—not once but twice.
JOSHUA KNEW he was playing with fire, but he didn’t see too many other choices. Breaking into this lawyer’s office didn’t trouble him. The man had been in Henri’s unofficial employ for a dozen years that Joshua knew of, trustworthy for his part, which was usually in the role of document courier.
Henri kept men of varying prominence positioned around the world—men who did as they were asked for generous favors, were competent at their various jobs, and didn’t ask questions.
Joshua had used this man before, although the lawyer had no knowledge of Joshua’s identity. They’d worked via secure phone connections with prearranged code words. Joshua always made deliveries directly to this law office, always after hours. The lawyer would arrive for work the following morning to find documents prepackaged for shipping on his desk, knowing he’d been paid an illegal visit during the night. To date, Joshua had never bypassed building security the same way twice.
Tonight had involved a climbing rope.
This law firm held offices in a prime location in a business section of Vienna, an address Henri had secured and one that made illegal access somewhat less than a challenge. The newer buildings in this part of town had been built alongside the historic, designed to blend in with the medieval facades rather than for security.
Tonight Joshua had decided to work off restless energy with a free solo climb to the eighth-floor office. Just to interest himself, he hadn’t bothered bringing along much gear—the sheer rebelliousness of the climb suited his mood.
He didn’t like being pushed into a corner, and that’s exactly what Lindy had done. He’d decided to push back. Before leaving London, he’d forwarded her photo to a British private investigator. And the man had turned out to be good. He’d called back less than twelve hours later with a report.
A resident in a Northumberland hamlet known as Kirks Moor claimed to recognize Lindy’s face from a high-school yearbook. Since there were only two high schools in the vicinity, pursuing the lead was simply a matter of research at a local library.
Joshua had been pleased with the break, glad for a place to start, a first step in uncovering her true identity and ascertaining how he might push her to get what he wanted.
No man was perfect. No woman, either. She would have a vulnerability, and once he uncovered it, he would know how to exploit it to his benefit.
Watching for any signs of movement in the alley, Joshua coiled his rope and pulled it inside the office so the stretch still dangling from the rooftop anchor wouldn’t be easily noticeable. He wouldn’t underestimate Lindy again.
Easing the window shut, he slipped the pack from his shoulders and made his way to the desk. He sat in the lawyer’s plush leather chair, letting the late-night stillness soothe away the edges of his mood.
Opening the pack, he withdrew a box wrapped in plain brown paper. No bigger than a standard ream of copy paper, this box held a prize worth a vast sum more.
Mit Vergnügen!
Josip Franzparz was considered one of the great Austrian playwrights, so five months ago when his original German classicism manuscript had been stolen from a city museum in what had since become known as the Franzparz Heist, the authorities had issued an international red alert.
As Henri had anticipated Interpol’s involvement while orchestrating the theft, he’d enlisted Joshua to resolve the problem of removing the stolen manuscript from the city.
Joshua’s solution had been not to remove the manuscript. Instead, he’d arranged for a safe hiding place and a delayed removal. Now, when the commotion of the theft had abated and the investigation, although still active, had worked its way down from key status, he deemed the time right to retrieve the prize.
During the planning stages, Joshua had intended to use this particular lawyer’s services. The man was an Austrian native who traveled often on business. Having him courier a package believed to contain documents to
a standard drop point seemed a safe bet. Now Joshua was glad for his caution.
Henri had been eager to reclaim this manuscript, and after their telephone conversation last night, Joshua had decided to arrange the delivery as a consolation prize until he could transport the White Star.
Joshua had told Henri he’d been detained, sidestepping specifics about MI6 and the woman who prevented him from showing up on schedule. He’d claimed something personal had come up.
He knew that Henri would be wary after dealing with Allard’s sudden reversal and the resulting mess. But he had no reason to distrust Joshua. Yet.
Eying the wrapped box containing the manuscript, Joshua questioned again whether he should risk a second-party delivery of the White Star. Sending the amulet along with this manuscript would buy him more time to deal with Lindy.
Instinct, however, urged against such a risk. Aside from the obvious danger of turning one priceless manuscript into a double treasure of incalculable worth, Joshua wasn’t ready to part with the amulet. Not because of any imaginary curse, either. Unlike Allard, he hadn’t succumbed to greed.
The White Star was Joshua’s insurance policy.
He’d been compromised by MI6. Life as he’d known it was in jeopardy. All the years he’d spent developing connections under this alias would be traceable if he couldn’t get Lindy to erase his file. He couldn’t retire his alias and resurface under another, not without compromising himself.
Henri Renouf wasn’t the sort to let anyone walk away. Especially not someone who knew as many secrets as Joshua. No, if he didn’t find a way to resolve this situation, he could very well wind up the target of a hit man.
The White Star would provide leverage should he need it.
Henri had obsessed over the piece in a way he had no other. Joshua would stall Henri as long as he could, giving himself time to dig up something on Lindy. Then he would decide what his next step in this game would be.
He knew what he wanted it to be.
The sweet sounds of her breaking climax had been playing in his memory all day, sultry low moans that haunted him with visions of pulling her into his arms to enjoy the luxury of time spent with a beautiful and compelling woman.
Even now, his fingers tingled with the memory of touching her. She’d been tempting in her passion, uninhibited in a way that promised such pleasure. He wished he could seduce her into helping him, rather than resorting to blackmail—a fantasy if ever there was one.
Giving in to the restlessness he’d been feeling all day, he pushed away from the desk and stood, exhaling a short laugh at his absurd disappointment that Lindy hadn’t shown up.
He would see her again, he reminded himself. As soon as he could force her to deal. Until then, he’d relegate the fantasy into the deep dark recesses of his mind and out of his work.
Shrugging on the backpack, Joshua eased open the window enough to search the alley below for any signs of life. A security guard patrolled the outer perimeter of the building every half hour between stints behind a desk in the main lobby, where he watched cable sports or dozed.
Joshua glanced at the lighted display of his watch, knew he only had to descend and stow his gear before disappearing into predawn Vienna a good fifteen minutes before the guard would make his next round.
He’d make it back to his hotel ahead of schedule.
Grabbing his climbing rope, he slithered the coil through the window and lowered it. He hopped onto the ledge. Exiting the building without leaving behind proof of his visit proved even easier than entering, and with another glance to ensure the alley was still clear, Joshua began his descent.
He willed the exertion to dull his restlessness so he could think clearly, get his plans for the day in place then sleep on the flight out of Vienna. God knew he needed a few hours of decent rest. He’d been on a dead run since first crossing Lindy’s path and needed clarity to turn the minute amount of information he had on her into something serviceable.
He broke a sweat somewhere between the sixth and the fifth floors, began to feel his muscles burn somewhere between the fourth and third floors. When his boots hit the asphalt, he was ready to be on the ground.
“Boo.”
The word snapped at him through the darkness, and Joshua spun toward the sound, locked his gaze into a service entry doorway and the woman who stood within the shadows.
Disbelief mingled with satisfaction, a conflicting blast of emotions that reinforced how much trouble he was in. But once he could see past his own reaction and Lindy’s smug smile, Joshua realized she hadn’t dressed for a night of climbing. Her linen tunic ensemble looked more suitable for an afternoon tea rather than a jaunt through a dark alley.
“Anyone ever tell you that you look yummy in burglar black?” she asked.
“No.”
Her smile gleamed in the dark. “You do.”
He inclined his head at the compliment, more interested in knowing if she’d seen which floor he’d come from.
He couldn’t be sure, but since he’d aerially mounted his climbing rope and she’d been standing on the ground, her vantage had been straight up. With the storm clouds scudding before the moon and his dark clothing to conceal him, he could have been coming from any of the upper stories. He didn’t want to think he’d led her straight to the lawyer’s office before Mit Vergnügen! began the journey to Spain.
“This was a trick, Lindy.” He kept his voice to a whisper. “How did you find me here?”
“Uh-uh.” She shook her head. “You got a freebie last night. If I tell you how I found you today, then you’ll make my job harder the next time I try to find you.”
“Glad to hear tracking me wasn’t so easy.”
“It’s never been easy. I’m just good.”
That smug smile still clung to her lips. He wondered what pleased her more—catching up with him or that he hadn’t denied her skill. He hoped for both, and hoping wasn’t something Joshua had done for a very long time.
“Then let me guess. If you followed me to Vienna, you knew I’d need transportation. I don’t doubt MI6 can hack into any rental car company’s computer system. If so, you could have tracked me through the GPS in my rental to this vicinity.”
“Are you saying you have a rental car?”
“Are you saying you didn’t already know?”
She chuckled. “First of all, I did follow you to Vienna. And your rental car is parked on the street in front of an apartment building across the park. Looks like you’re a resident all tucked in for the night.”
“But that doesn’t explain why you’re standing here if my car is across the park.”
“Your climbing rope.”
He darted his gaze up to the roofline then back to her incredulously. This woman had the devil’s own luck. The city park was hardly Central Park, but even an acre-plus tract had a substantial perimeter. She would have had to stroll around these streets looking for a visual confirmation of where he’d gone until happening across his rope. He’d even used an anchor that was granite-colored like the stone. Nearly impossible to see in the dark. Not even the building security guard had noticed.
“I’m very impressed.” Not only by her eye, but because she admitted to not having had such an easy time of it. “So you didn’t dress for the occasion tonight because you didn’t know where you’d find me.”
“True enough. But I’m still hoping to impress—” She broke off suddenly, spinning toward a sound—footsteps.
Crouching, Joshua clutched the rope tightly in his grip, steadying it so not to draw notice and pressed Lindy back into the doorway, a position that minimized her visibility from the street. He wanted to drape his dark sweater over her as an added precaution, but knew any movement might draw notice.
So he waited silently in the darkness, heart beginning to race when a flashlight beam pierced the night and a figure appeared, rounding the corner and warily scanning the alley in the beam’s sweeping motion.
The security guard appeared to b
e looking for intruders, but when his cursory investigation turned up nothing in the alley, he moved toward the gated entrance of a subterranean parking garage.
Joshua’s chest constricted around a breath as he mentally willed Lindy not to move. He felt his vulnerability all too keenly, and she could so easily betray him.
Lindy Gardner was an MI6 agent with diplomatic immunity. Any jurisdictional bullshit she might step into would simply be a matter of government communication and string-pulling. Joshua, on the other hand, would wind up in a prison cell.
He always got uneasy when his fate rested in another’s hands. Since he had no idea what Lindy intended, he wasn’t about to rely on a repeat performance of her New York rescue. Sure, she wanted information, wanted it enough to sidestep security. But he wasn’t willing to bet she wanted it enough to put her own future on the line. If bullets started flying, she’d no doubt sell his ass to the authorities and let MI6 bail her out.
But Lindy had frozen into position, and he hoped some of her uncanny luck would keep the guard moving.
Didn’t look as if he’d get his wish, though. The rhythmic grind of rubber tread over wet asphalt signaled an approaching car. A police cruiser eased past the alley.
The security guard must have radioed in a disturbance, an assumption borne up when the guard went to meet the cruiser.
Joshua caught Lindy’s gaze across the distance, a glance of silent understanding, and they waited, breathless in the shadows, as the car stopped.
Muted voices carried toward them. Joshua couldn’t hear the conversation, but he breathed a sigh of relief when the cruiser began moving again, circling the block while shining a spotlight along the sidewalk.
Perhaps luck was with him, after all.
The guard didn’t reappear, and they waited while the cruiser circled again. Joshua could hear the hum of the cruiser’s engine at slow speed, suspected the police would continue casing the side streets.
Into Temptation Page 9
