Rourke: Steele Protectors 4

by Mortimer, Carole

  Which meant Rourke wasn’t about to tolerate her rudeness toward him, even if Haydn was in the room. “Do I need to remind you what happened the last time you showed me disrespect?”

  Color entered her cheeks at the rebuke. “Sorry.” She grimaced before turning her attention to Haydn. “I wondered if you had found out anything about where my father might have gone—” She broke off the query when Haydn immediately shot Rourke a questioning glance. “Obviously, you have,” she drawled. “You just aren’t sure whether or not Rourke wants you to tell me what it is you’ve found out.”

  Rourke made a spur-of-the-moment decision. He wasn’t sure if it was the right one for either of them, but neither was leaving Sophie in London, prey to a vengeful bastard like Tillman. “I’ve made arrangements to fly to the Cayman Islands tomorrow. Do you have a valid passport?”

  “I do, yes,” Sophie confirmed warily.

  “Then I suggest you join me.”

  Her eyes widened. “My father is in the Cayman Islands?”

  He nodded. “He and a female companion arrived on the islands together a week ago.”

  Sophie’s eyes widened. As far as she was aware, her father hadn’t so much as gone out on a single date since her mother died. Now Rourke was telling her that not only had her father fled to the Cayman Islands but that he had taken a woman with him.

  It seemed that where her father was concerned, the hurt just kept piling on top of more hurt.

  After the events of this past week, Sophie was seriously wondering if she had ever known him.

  Or if she wanted to…

  She had thought, after they lost her mother three years ago, that she and her father would become closer. The opposite was true, to the point Stephen was now almost a stranger to his daughter.

  A realization that wasn’t in the least helpful right now. “If Haydn was able to find my father this easily, then why couldn’t Zachary Tillman?”

  “I wouldn’t say it was exactly easy,” Haydn teased.

  Sophie knew that Haydn had crazy computer skills. “I’m still not very happy with having learned you installed security cameras outside my apartment building without telling me.”

  “I can think of more than one occasion when our surveillance has helped keep one of us or the people we love safe,” he stated unapologetically.

  Sophie instantly felt guilty, knowing Atticus’s fiancée, Jenna, had been abducted from a night club and badly beaten just a few short weeks ago. Camera surveillance had ensured it didn’t happen a second time.

  Rourke took over the conversation. “Why would Tillman put himself to the trouble of chasing after your father when he can threaten you and let you do all the hard work for him?”

  Sophie winced. “When he has me he can use as leverage, you mean.”

  His jaw tightened. “I’ve told you, it’s not happening if it’s in our power to prevent it.”

  Sophie could hear the barely controlled fury in his voice. “What do you intend doing to my father when you find him?”

  “Well, persuading him into giving his ex-employer his money back so that Tillman leaves you alone obviously takes priority,” he drawled. “I’m not sure if even that is going to satisfy Tillman, but it will be a move in the right direction.”

  Sophie was also worried that Zachary Tillman might still want his pound of flesh, either from her or her father, even if his money was returned to him. But, as Rourke said, returning the money was definitely a positive step toward smoothing things over with the billionaire.

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  Rourke’s brows rose over dark eyes. “Okay what?”

  “I’ll come to the Cayman Islands with you.”

  Rourke smiled his approval. “Good—”

  “I don’t advise the words ‘good girl’ leave your lips, not unless you want to receive a painful kick to the balls,” she warned harshly, shooting Haydn a silencing glance before turning that glittering gaze back on Rourke. “When do we leave?”

  Rourke’s smile widened in appreciation of her threat. “We fly out tomorrow morning at eight o’clock.”

  She nodded. “Fine.”

  “I’ll swing by and pick you up at five thirty.”

  A frown creased her brow. “Is that early enough for an eight-o’clock flight?”

  “Yes.” Rourke’s answer was deliberately economical. He wanted to avoid telling her where they would be flying from and whose plane they would be traveling on. In the circumstances, Sophie might not approve of the man who owned the jet.

  “Are you okay, Sophie?” Haydn prompted gently. “You’re very pale. Would you like me to get you some brandy or maybe a hot drink?”

  Rourke scowled his displeasure at his brother’s solicitude. A displeasure he recognized as being a mixture of anger and jealousy. Sophie was his to protect and care for, damn it. Even if it was like trying to protect and care for a prickly hedgehog. Hedgehogs were cute, right? Pretty faces and soft-as-velvet noses? He doubted Sophie would appreciate the analogy.

  She gave Haydn a warm and reassuring smile. The sort of smile Rourke was aware she no longer gave him. “I’m fine. I’ll be even better once we’ve found my father and he’s given back Zachary Tillman’s money.” A shadow appeared in her eyes. “I’m not sure what happens after that.”

  Once this situation was sorted to Rourke’s satisfaction, he fully intended to ensure Stephen Hammond knew better than to ever again involve his daughter in any of his shady dealings and so put her life in danger.

  “When you said we were leaving on an eight o’clock flight, I assumed it would be on a commercial airline.” Sophie was totally overwhelmed as she followed Rourke toward the sleek silver jet parked on the tarmac of this private airfield an hour’s drive from London.

  Rourke had arrived in his car outside her apartment building promptly at five thirty this morning. Sophie, who freely admitted to not being a morning person, had merely grunted a greeting when he held the car door open for her to climb into the passenger seat. She had been busy buckling herself in when he climbed back behind the wheel, closing her eyes and pretending to have fallen asleep when Rourke drove them out of London.

  If she hadn’t been, she might have noticed that he hadn’t driven in the direction he would have needed to take if they were flying from either Heathrow or Gatwick Airport.

  Instead, they had arrived at this private airfield a short time ago and gone through a cursory passport and luggage check before the luggage was taken from them and the two of them walked the short distance to the waiting plane.

  In any other circumstances, Sophie would have been excited at the prospect of flying to the Caribbean. Having Rourke as her companion? Definitely the cherry on top.

  Except it wasn’t a vacation, and Rourke was more of a bodyguard than a companion. Sophie didn’t doubt for one moment that the only reason Rourke had brought her with him was so that she was out of harm’s—Zachary Tillman’s—way.

  Even so, she had checked online to see what the weather was like on the Caymans this time of year so that she had known what clothes to pack. She hadn’t liked that it was still hurricane season, but the islands seemed to have been lucky enough not to have any so far this year, and the temperature was hot enough for shorts-and-T-shirt wear. She was dressed for colder English weather at the moment in jeans and a sweater, but she had shorts and a T-shirt in the bag she had brought onboard with her and intended to change into them before they landed at Owen Roberts International Airport on Grand Cayman.

  Rourke was also dressed casually for traveling in jeans and a black polo shirt beneath a leather jacket. Which, once he had removed the latter, would no doubt be suitable for the warmer weather in the Cayman Islands.

  “Rourke.” A handsome dark-haired man dressed in a formal suit was waiting to greet them at the bottom of the steps going up into the plane. Two men in black suits and short buzzcuts and wearing sunglasses stood watchfully several feet behind him.

  Rourke ignored those two men as
he shook the other man’s hand. “I didn’t expect you to be flying us there yourself.”

  “I love to pilot my own plane as long as there are no family events or business in need of my attention here. This has worked out well for me as I intend to take care of some business of my own when we get to the Caymans.” The man’s smile became even warmer as he turned and shook Sophie’s hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hammond. My name is Gregori, and our flight today to Grand Cayman should take roughly thirteen hours.”

  Sophie stared at him, pretty sure she must still be asleep and dreaming.

  Gregori’s smile turned rueful, as if he was aware of her confusion. “My staff will serve the two of you breakfast once you are onboard and then remove themselves to the front of the plane to allow the two of you privacy. My two bodyguards will also be at the front of the plane, but they will be sleeping during the flight. Candice is here to ensure your comfort, so please don’t be afraid to ask if there is anything you need. There is the usual onboard entertainment available, movies, music, etc. Also a separate bedroom and en suite shower room at the back of the plane if you would prefer to pass the time sleeping in comfort.”

  Sophie was pretty sure she had seen this pilot, tall, dark and extremely handsome, before today, and it hadn’t been in a way that had anything to do with him piloting a plane. She believed she had seen this man’s photograph in several of the national newspapers a few years ago when he was called as a witness during the trial of several members of the Italian Mafia.

  But this man couldn’t be Gregori Markovic, head of the London Russian bratva.

  Could he…?

  Chapter Eight

  “Ask away, Sophie, before you burst from curiosity,” Rourke drawled. He had removed his jacket, and the two of them sat opposite each other in plush doe-leather seats set around one of the four tables in the main cabin of the jet in preference to the seating area at the front of the cabin.

  As predicted, the two bodyguards had disappeared into a room behind the cockpit where Gregori had just performed a smooth takeoff before leveling the plane out to begin the long flight to the Caymans.

  Nevertheless, Sophie’s thoughts were so loud and clear, it was as if they were being printed across her frowning forehead.

  She had recognized the pilot as Gregori Markovic.

  She also realized this was the Russian’s private jet.

  And she was now mentally questioning just how well Rourke knew the other man that he could ask Gregori if he could borrow his jet to fly them to the Cayman Islands.

  The truth was, Rourke didn’t know Gregori all that well. But the two of them had met several times during the past few months, in the middle of one difficult situation or another. Bryce’s friendship with Nikolai Volkov, Gregori’s second-in-command, meant Bryce was the closest brother to the Russians.

  The available commercial flights to the Cayman Islands hadn’t been soon enough or at the right time for Rourke, and so he had asked Bryce if he could intervene on his behalf with Markovic in regard to the Russian’s private jet. Rourke didn’t want to wait a single moment longer than necessary to fly to the Caymans and put an end to this situation.

  He was also more relieved than he had shown at the time that Sophie had agreed to accompany him. Leaving her in London, even with his brothers there to protect her, was something Rourke preferred not to do.

  “Yes,” he finally answered her question.

  “Strange company you’re keeping nowadays.”

  He shrugged. “Gregori’s businesses have all been legitimate for several years.”

  She snorted her skepticism. “From the little I know about the Russian bratva, leaving a cutthroat organization like that, other than in a pine box, isn’t an option. So if Markovic’s business interests truly are legitimate, then someone would have tried to kill him before now and taken over as head of the bratva in London.”

  “What makes you think they haven’t?”

  Sophie chewed on her bottom lip. “Really?”

  “Really.” Rourke nodded. “But it’s my understanding Gregori remains a strong leader in London because his business legitimacy throws an umbrella of legitimacy over the rest of the bratva dealings. Besides, he and Nikolai both have wives and families now, and they will do anything to ensure that nothing and no one is ever allowed to hurt any of them.” His gaze intensified. “I can respect that.”

  Sophie eyed him warily, unsure if that intensity was directed toward her, and if it was, why?

  Okay, so things had gotten slightly out of hand yesterday. Well…Sophie had been the one to suffer the repercussions of Rourke’s hand. On her backside. Painfully so.

  As for the sex part—

  “We should talk about yesterday—”

  “No, we really shouldn’t,” Sophie cut in firmly, more than a little relieved when a beautiful and smiling stewardess wheeled out a trolley and, after introducing herself as Candice, began to serve them breakfast.

  The interior of this jet—leather seats and plush carpeted floor, with actual original paintings hanging on the partition between the cabin and the cockpit—was all geared to luxury and the comfort of the passengers.

  The breakfast they were served, both hot and cold food, could have graced the restaurant of any five-star hotel. It certainly beat the bowl of cold cereal Sophie usually ate for breakfast.

  The delicious food and the warm and chatty presence of the hostess as she moved in and out of the cabin at least prevented Rourke from pursuing the subject of yesterday.

  A subject Sophie could quite happily forget.

  Well…maybe not all of it. Having Rourke bring her to climax after climax was something Sophie doubted she would ever forget.

  She had spent part of the previous night chastising herself for not reciprocating. Okay, so Rourke had been intent on showing her who was in charge at the time, but all that single-minded intensity on his part meant she hadn’t been allowed to touch him intimately, let alone—

  “I’ll leave the two of you to enjoy the flight now.” Candice cleared away the last of their used plates. “I’ll be serving lunch in about four hours, and there are plenty of drinks in the bar area.” She pointed to the area at the front of the plane where there were two comfortable sofas and a large television screen. “But if you need anything else before then, please press the call bell.” She indicated the button above Sophie’s head.

  There was an awkward silence once the hostess had disappeared through and then closed the door at the front of the plane, leaving Sophie and Rourke alone together.

  Sophie decided she really wasn’t up to any more tension, let alone a verbal postmortem about yesterday. Being accosted by Jack Henderson had been traumatic enough. Being made love to by Rourke had been even more so, if in a different way.

  Consequently, Sophie hadn’t slept well last night, even though she’d had the reassurance of having invited Hailey to spend the night inside her apartment rather than standing guard outside it. If Hailey was going to be guarding her overnight, then the other woman might as well be comfortable doing it.

  Even so, sleep had eluded Sophie for most of the night, and verbally fencing with Rourke this morning was the last thing she felt like doing. Discussing the events of yesterday definitely wasn’t something she wanted to do either.

  She glanced up warily at Rourke as he stood before coming round the table to stand beside her chair and hold out his hand. “What?” She eyed that hand as if it were a viper about to strike rather than instrumental in arousing and giving her the most pleasure she had ever felt in her life.

  Rourke smiled ruefully at her obvious suspicion, fully aware that he had some fences to mend where Sophie was concerned. He had overstepped boundaries with her yesterday, and winning back her trust wouldn’t be easy. “You didn’t sleep well, and a nap before lunch would no doubt be helpful with that,” he encouraged.

  She scowled. “Did Hailey tell you that?”

  “Sophie—”

  �
�Don’t talk to or treat me as if I’m a child!” The words were barely out of her mouth before Rourke pulled her unceremoniously to her feet.

  One of his arms encircled her waist, and he molded her body tightly against his. “We—I crossed some lines with you yesterday,” he acknowledged tightly. “Even so, that doesn’t give you carte blanche to talk to or treat me like shit!” He scowled down at her. “I wasn’t exactly expecting to be flying to the Cayman Islands today either, you know.”

  Color bloomed in Sophie’s cheeks. “Sorry.” She winced. “This whole situation with my father and Tillman has me feeling more than a little—I think vulnerable is the word.”

  Rourke tamped down the anger he felt toward her father for having put her in this position in the first place. It wasn’t going to help the situation, and he needed Sophie to learn to trust him again. “I’m going to be at your side for the whole of the time we’re in the Cayman Islands. Unfortunately, I can’t control what the outcome will be as far as your father is concerned, but I do promise, whatever happens, to keep you safe.” It was a promise Rourke intended keeping, no matter what the cost to himself.

  Sophie placed the warmth of her hand on his bare forearm. “We had a…strange day yesterday, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still trust you to ensure my safety.”

  Rourke felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. “So do you think can we go and lie down for a couple of hours now?” He hadn’t slept at all well the previous night, for several reasons. But mainly because he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the woman he now held in his arms. “I was up way too early this morning.”

  Her eyes widened. “You want us to lie down together?”

  He gave a teasing grin. “I’m assuming there’s only one bed. Besides, you didn’t seriously think I was going to miss this opportunity to share a bed with a beautiful woman, did you?”

  She looked slightly bewildered. “To be honest, after yesterday, I’m no longer sure when or if I should take anything you say at face value.”

  Rourke sobered as he gazed intently into her eyes. “Yesterday was something of a watershed in our friendship,” he accepted. “Do you wish it hadn’t happened?”