Reckless (Benson's Boys Book 1)

by Janet Elizabeth Henderson

  “You’re making this shit up.”

  “The Star Wars guys watch everything sci-fi, think they’re intellectuals and can quote comic books. The Die Hard guys think movies ended with John McClane.”

  A sceptical look was all she got for her efforts to educate the guy. “That’s it? Comic-Con geeks and John McClane wannabes?”

  She waved a hand. “I’m over simplifying. The point is, you’re a Die Hard guy. Prove me wrong. Name a movie you’ve seen that was made after Die Hard.”

  Honestly, she could almost smell rubber burning while he thought about it. At last, he grinned in triumph.

  “Die Hard 4,” he said.

  “I rest my case.” Posters advertising Les Miserables caught her attention. She’d never been to one of the big West End musicals. “When this is over, I’m going to help you with your cultural ignorance. We’ll go to all the West End shows.” The urge to bounce in her seat like an excited two year old was difficult to resist. “I might even take you to a movie that doesn’t have Bruce Willis in it.”

  His smile was dazzling. “Do your worst, Buffy. I look forward to it.”

  Traffic started to move again and their focus returned to the reason they were fighting their way through London’s city centre. Megan thought about his earlier declaration. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense.

  “How exactly are we partners? You plan to trade me for your sister.” She held up her hands when he growled at her. Touchy man. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for it. I’d just like to know where the partner part comes in.”

  “I don’t plan to trade you for my sister.” He shot her an irritated look. “You’re just the key to getting close to Rudi and his records. As to partners, we’re here, aren’t we? Talking to contacts together. Doing the legwork together. That makes us partners.” He swung a left and headed for the part of Soho that housed its infamous red light district. The streets were narrow, the buildings tall. A mish mash of sixties office blocks and modified red stone tenements.

  “I’m only here because you’re terrified to leave me alone in case I do something you deem stupid and ruin your plans.”

  “That too.” He steered the car into a purpose-built parking garage that was squeezed between two older buildings.

  They found a free space on the third floor, parked their generic SUV and headed down the stairs and out into Brewer Street. As Dimitri gallantly held the door open for her to exit, he leaned into her.

  “For the record.” His voice was a low, sexy growl against her ear that made it hard to concentrate on his words. “Stop saying I plan to hand you over to that piece of dirt. It is not, nor ever has been, in the plans to trade you for Katrina. You think I want to hand another woman over to him? You’re simply my ticket into Rudi’s office, where we’ll get the information we need and then both of us will leave together. You got me?”

  Megan blinked at him for a few seconds. “You are seriously sexy when you’re earnest.”

  “Get a move on.” Dimitri shoved her out of the door, making her laugh.

  They walked side by side through the throngs of tourists and Londoners that filled the narrow street.

  “I don’t remember this stuff from when I came here with the school,” Megan muttered.

  They passed shops with windows stuffed full of adult toys, neon signs flashing copulating couples, and bookshops with blacked out windows. In amongst the seedier businesses were designer cafes, uptown boutiques and pricey galleries.

  “Are you sure this is the right place?” she said as she stared at Starbucks. “It doesn’t look like a red light area to me.”

  Dimitri turned into a narrow alley. “What were you expecting? Half-naked women on street corners and live sex shows in shop windows?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  He shook his head at her ignorance.

  Halfway down the alley there was a traditional English pub taking up the whole bottom floor of an old tenement block. The exterior was painted burgundy, with dark wood and hanging baskets filled with pansies. A blackboard told them the soup of the day was potato and leek. A sign on the door said soliciting would not be tolerated. The sign sat beside a vending machine that was filled with condoms. Interesting place.

  Megan followed Dimitri into the shady interior. The outdoor colour theme continued inside, with heavily varnished dark wooden tables, a paisley-patterned carpet in browns and burgundy and matching burgundy and cream walls. Framed photos filled the walls, showing the area in times past—the odd famous face amongst them.

  Dimitri wended his way around the tables, which were beginning to fill with the after-work crowd, past the long dark bar, to a booth in the corner.

  “You must be Dimitri.” A middle-aged woman in a form fitting purple dress that screamed Hollywood heyday stood and held out her hand.

  Dimitri took it. “Thanks for agreeing to meet with me.”

  “Anything for Lake.” Her smile was sultry as she said Lake Benson’s name, making Megan wonder what the history was between the two of them.

  With her husky voice and immaculately made up face, Carla was the last person Megan expected to meet when Lake said he had a contact in London who would know about Rudi’s whereabouts. This woman could have been a retired catwalk model. She was elegant, sexy and comfortable in her skin. She waved at the booth.

  “Please, take a seat.” She sat back down. “Lake didn’t mention that he was sending me a sexy toy boy,” she said to Dimitri before turning to Megan. “And you, darling, you are just divine. Look at those cheekbones. And that hair. Oh, I’d kill for your hair.”

  Megan smiled at the compliment, although the woman had nothing to worry about. Her long hair was dyed Marilyn Monroe blonde and styled in gentle waves to her shoulders.

  Megan slid into the booth and Dimitri followed her. She wasn’t sure if it was a protective move, or if he was blocking her escape.

  “Lake said you might have something for me.” Dimitri ran his arm along the back of their seat.

  He looked perfectly relaxed. A man at ease in his natural habitat, but Megan knew he was aware of every single thing going on in the room beside him.

  “Straight to the point. I like it.” Carla smiled seductively before leaning towards them. “I’ll do likewise.” She glanced casually around before she spoke. “Word is Rudi’s coming back to town. He’ll be in his London house by the end of the week.”

  Dimitri was no longer pretending to be relaxed. Now he looked like the predator she knew him to be. Ready to pounce. To strike. To decimate. Was it wrong that she thought he looked kind of sexy? Yeah. Probably.

  “How good is this info?” Dimitri asked.

  “Top notch.” Carla sat back in her seat and stirred her drink with the straw. “They’re getting the house ready for him as we speak. Apparently his mother is turning seventy next week and her son plans to take her to Madame Butterfly after dinner at Gordon Ramsay’s.”

  “He has a mother?” Megan blurted. Because—shocking.

  Carla smiled at her, clearly amused. “Are you in the business, love?”

  Megan looked at Dimitri, but his mind was obviously elsewhere seeing as his jaw was clenched tight enough to break. “You mean, security for hire?”

  “No, I mean sex for hire.”

  “Oh!” Megan lowered her voice. “No. Are you?”

  She nodded. “I run a brothel two streets over. And before you ask, we don’t deal with Abramovich or his organisation. All of my girls are there by choice.” She eyed Megan speculatively. “We’re always looking for new talent. With your looks and that gorgeous accent you’d be an instant hit.”

  “Really?”

  “The men would be lining up round the block for you. You’d make a mint.”

  Megan put her elbow on the table. “How much are we talking?”

  “Megan!” Dimitri came out of his vengeance-induced trance.

  “What? I’m just asking.” She looked back at Carla. “Give me a ballpark figure.”

 
Carla started to chuckle. “I like her,” she said to Dimitri. “She’s got spirit.”

  “Yeah, that’s one word for it.”

  Megan elbowed him in his side. He didn’t even flinch, so she turned her attention back to Carla.

  “Would I have to do any really kinky stuff? The thought of dealing with someone who has a foot fetish makes my skin crawl.” It wasn’t like she planned to take her up on the offer, but it didn’t stop her from being curious.

  A large hand covered her mouth. “Don’t answer her. Don’t encourage her. Don’t humour her,” were the droll commands.

  Megan bit his palm. He jerked his hand away as she frowned up at him. “There’s no harm in being informed.”

  Dimitri ignored her. “I need a contact for Rudi. Someone who has access to him and can help me get close enough for a personal meeting with the man.”

  “That’s a hard ask, darling. Rudi Abramovich makes that guy in North Korea look friendly. The man has paranoid down to a fine art.” Carla tapped a perfectly manicured fingernail on her bottom lip. “There is someone. Does the security for the house when Rudi is in town.” She opened her tiny purple handbag, brought out the latest iPhone and tapped at the screen. “I’m sending you his number. He’s in charge of the team at the house, so he should have Rudi’s ear, or at least someone close to Rudi.” She gave a delicate shrug. “Worth a try.”

  Dimitri nodded his thanks, which irritated Megan.

  “Thank you, Carla,” she said pointedly to the oaf taking up most of the bench seat. “Why don’t you pretend you’re a proper human being for a minute and use some manners?”

  Her answer was a scowl. Which, she was beginning to believe, was his thinking face.

  Dimitri climbed out of the booth and motioned for her to follow. And like a good little soldier she did.

  “Later,” he said to Carla and headed for the door.

  Megan hesitated before turning back to the woman. Carla had a business card in her hand, which she held out to Megan. She took it, because it would be impolite not to, and put it in the pocket of her jeans.

  “Take some time and consider my offer,” Carla said.

  “I don’t really think I’m cut out for the sex industry,” Megan said, not wanting to string the woman along.

  “Then call me if you want to chat. I think I’d enjoy that.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement.

  “That I can do.” Megan grinned. “But really, just between you and me, how much do you think I could earn a week?”

  “Megan,” Dimitri barked from the door, making Carla laugh hard.

  With a glare in his direction, she waved at the woman and headed towards him.

  “You’re driving me crazy,” she told him as he held the door open for her.

  “Likewise, Buffy.”

  Dimitri called the new contact while Megan browsed through one of the more sedate adult shops in the street. This one was on the women’s lingerie end of the spectrum, although they still carried designer bondage gear and a whole array of flavoured gels. Megan bought a blindfold, which was pretty much a bedazzled eye mask. When Dimitri cocked an eyebrow at her purchase she kept her lips closed and let his imagination fill in the gaps. He didn’t need to know it was a gift for Claire who liked to nap during the day now that she was pregnant, but hated when it was too light.

  “We’re meeting Rudi’s guy at seven.”

  The look in his eye said it all. The man was primed for vengeance. A year, that’s how long he’d been looking for his sister. A year of chasing down the slightest lead. A year of coming up against brick wall after brick wall. And now, with the help of Benson Security, he was making headway at last. Megan bet he could practically taste the end.

  “We’re going to find her.” It was a false promise, born from desperate hope more than anything else. As soon as it fell from her lips, Megan wished it back. Dimitri didn’t need placating, he needed action.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  Megan put her hand on his arm and held tight. At last he looked in her eyes. “No. I mean, we’ll move heaven and earth until we find her. We’ll do whatever it takes.” It was no less than she would do if it was Claire who was missing.

  It was no less than she was doing now to save Claire from a similar fate. For a moment, they held each other’s gaze, a silent understanding between them.

  With a deep breath, Dimitri took a step back and glanced at his diver’s watch. “We’ve got over an hour. Might as well eat something.” And then he strode off, expecting her to follow. And like a freaking lemming, she did.

  Chapter Three

  Dimitri led them to Chinatown, on the other side of Shaftesbury Avenue from the red light district. The pedestrianised street was lined with restaurants, but Megan picked Soon Fatt, purely because she thought the name was hilarious. Dimitri didn’t question her decision, even though there were better looking restaurants on the street. He was learning there were some fights that just weren’t worth the effort.

  The interior was standard Chinese restaurant—white tablecloths, red paper lanterns and gold dragon motifs. They ordered a menu for two, the one with crispy duck, plus a few added extras.

  “So what’s the plan?”

  Megan confiscated all of the spring rolls as soon as they arrived at the table, then stabbed his hand with a chopstick when he reached for one.

  “The plan is to use this guy, John Martin, goes by Johnny Rotten, to—”

  She stopped with a spring roll halfway to her mouth. “Johnny Rotten? Seriously? Like the punk singer?”

  “I kid you not, but I don’t think he’s named after the punk guy.” To be honest, it wasn’t the worst nickname he’d come across. “The plan is to convince Johnny to okay a visit with his boss and arrange it for us.”

  “I don’t get it.” Megan waved her chopsticks around for emphasis. “We have a team of hackers at our disposal, can’t they just find Rudi’s email address and give it to you? Wouldn’t that be the easiest way to set up a meeting with Rudi?”

  “If only it was that simple.” He snatched one of the spring rolls before she could stop him. Her glare was adorable. “He lives offline. Everything is done through his assistants.”

  He swore he could actually see her brain working. “So none of the trails lead to him. Smart. I suppose it’s the same deal with his cell phone number.”

  He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Rudi Abramovich had his personal contact information locked up tight. Either he approached you, or you got to him through his team. It was time consuming, difficult and seriously cautious. And it worked. He was still free while other men in the same business were long behind bars.

  The waitress arrived with a large silver platter loaded with food and Megan bounced on her seat at the sight of it. She’d gravitated towards everything on the menu that was deep fried and when he’d asked her about it, she’d shrugged and told him she was Scottish. Before she could nab the sweet and sour chicken, again crispy fried, he loaded her plate with some of the steamed vegetables he’d ordered. The look of horror on her face was priceless.

  “What did you do that for?”

  “You need something that isn’t junk food.”

  “I eat healthy food. Just not here. What’s the point of eating steamed broccoli when there’s fried rice on the table?” Her outrage almost made him laugh—he fought it back.

  “Humour me. Cover the damn things in sweet and sour sauce if you like, but eat them. Your arteries will thank you.”

  She pointed a chopstick at him. “Just for that comment, I’m ordering more spring rolls.” She covered the vegetables with sauce until they were practically swimming in it.

  Dimitri shook his head. “You eat like a teenager.”

  “Scottish,” she said again, like that was supposed to mean something.

  He must have looked blank because she gave a long-suffering sigh. “We’re the nation that eats deep fried Mars Bars and Irn Bru sausages. The same country that claims haggis as its national dish,
but eats more curries than anywhere outside of India. Our supermarkets have three aisles dedicated to biscuits and cookies and one for fruit and veg. This,” she pointed at the table, “is amateur night for a Scot.” Then she chomped on a piece of deep fried chicken.

  Dimitri shuddered before loading up on noodles and veg. “As I was saying, I’m hoping this guy is our access to Rudi. If he isn’t, we’ll need to come up with another plan.”

  “Won’t it tip your hand going to Johnny first? I mean, if he doesn’t help us then Rudi knows your plan. He might send someone to take me from you. It would cut out the middle man. If I was him, that’s what I would do.”

  “If the meeting starts to look like it’s going to go belly up I’ll think of something.”

  She stilled. “This is just like in Scotland. You’re going to make this up as you go along, aren’t you?”

  “No. I’m going to come up with a plan when it’s needed. A plan based on a lifetime of experience and training.”

  “Yeah. Right.” She pointed her chopsticks at him. The woman used the utensils like a weapon. “That’s the attitude that left me rescuing myself in Scotland.”

  “Here we go again.” He put his elbows on the table and clasped his hands. “You just cannot let this go, can you? I would have gotten you out of there. I was waiting for the right time.”

  “Who are you kidding? You were going to march me all the way to Rudi’s base in Romania and trade me for the whereabouts of your sister.”

  “That was before I really knew you. And I wouldn’t have traded you. I’d have used you, like I’m doing now. Big difference.”

  “Yep. I can hardly tell the two plans apart.”

  “Eat your food.” Then just to annoy her, he moved the rest of the fried rice across the table and out of her reach.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes. Dimitri tried to focus on his food while mentally preparing for the meeting he’d scheduled. It was hard with Megan sitting so close to him. Everything about the woman was a distraction, from her bright blue eyes, to her luscious pink lips, through to her perfectly curved hips. He couldn’t be in the same room as her without wanting to touch, tease, taste. Even her crazy attitude and bad temper were temptation to him.