by Cindy Dees
“I beg your pardon?”
“You said we’d talk about serious things later.”
She stared down at the crisp, golden layer of caramelized sugar coating her custard. Composure. Breathe. Living with her father for so long had taught her how to lie convincingly. She could do this.
“What do you want to know?” she managed to ask.
“What are you hiding from me?”
Well, obviously, she thought, I’m not going to tell you every detail of my life. Just as you’re not going to tell me every detail of yours. “I’m not keeping anything from you that will affect our deal. I swear. You keep me alive, and I’ll give you my father’s financial records.”
“Why haven’t you handed the records over to me already?”
“Because I have to get them first,” she lied.
“Where are they now?”
“My father uploads them onto a secure Internet site. I have to retrieve them.”
“So all you need is access to an Internet-capable computer and we’re finished?”
She gulped. “It’s not quite that simple. They’re hidden behind several layers of encryption. I can break through it, but it’ll take a little while.”
“Define a little while. Are we talking a couple of minutes, or are we talking days or weeks?”
She looked him square in the eye. That was one she could answer with total honesty. “I don’t know. I wish I did.”
He leaned back, studying her with laser intensity. She had the distinct feeling he wasn’t buying her line for a second. But she had to play out this farce. And in his own way, so did he.
“Where have you lived all this time?” he fired at her.
“Gavarone. I travel some in the course of managing Eduardo’s money, but mostly he keeps me close by.”
“Wants to keep an eye on you, does he?”
She snorted. “More like an iron fist over my head.”
Dutch said nothing in response to that one.
The silence deepened as she waited for him to cook up some other horribly awkward question. Her father always said the best defense was a good offense. Maybe it was time to borrow a page out of Eduardo’s book. She leaned forward and fired off a question of her own. “So. What have you been up to for the last ten years?”
Dutch’s frown deepened. He shrugged enigmatically. “The same old thing. Doing my damnedest to keep the world safe for democracy.”
She remarked, “That has become quite a tall order in the last decade.”
“If it’s not one thing, it’s another,” he replied. “My kind aren’t ever going to be out of work.”
The conversation lapsed. She ought to keep him talking. Keep him distracted. But she was so relieved to escape the charge of the conversation, she didn’t push.
The tension between them must have been thicker than she realized because she noticed a guy several tables over looking at them. As soon as she made eye contact with him, he jerked his gaze to his plate. Creepy kind of fellow. So boringly plain and brown he practically faded into the background and became invisible. Eating alone.
She murmured to Dutch in quiet concern, “A guy over there was just looking at me.”
Dutch’s lips curved in a wry smile. “I expect most of the men in this restaurant have been looking at you. You’re a beautiful woman.”
Flustered by the comment, she made a production of folding her napkin beside her plate.
Dutch said under his breath, “Let’s get out of here. I’ll have a look at the guy on the way out.”
He paid for the meal with a credit card, and she eyed it speculatively. A person could access a bank account via plastic, too. She ought to check his wallet for debit cards. She might be able to trace the Blackjacks’ account number from one of them.
Dutch ushered her outside. Night had fallen while they ate. How in the world were they supposed to ski back to the resort up that narrow, dark trail? But Dutch set off confidently, leaving her to follow dubiously. He didn’t take the same trail they’d used before. Although as narrow as the last one, this trail sloped downhill away from the restaurant.
Initially, the trail passed across reasonably open terrain and she could see the path in the moonlight. But then flanking walls of black pines closed in, casting the trail into pitch darkness. Her right foot lurched. She flailed but managed to maintain her balance. Her ski had caught on something and her binding yanked loose, separating her boot from her ski.
She called out to Dutch, who was pulling away from her rapidly, “Wait! I popped a binding.”
Dutch turned around and muscled his way back up the incline toward her. “Can you step back into it yourself?”
“Tried already. There’s something wedged in the bottom of my boot and I can’t knock it loose.”
“Hang on.” He made his way to her side and leaned down, touching her leg just above her knee. She jumped at the uncanny familiarity. His big palm slid down her leg and cupped her calf. “Use my shoulder to steady yourself,” he murmured.
He pried loose a piece of ice and guided her boot back into her ski. The binding closed with a solid click. He started to stand up but froze halfway to his feet. Abrupt tension flowed through him under her hand. She froze as well. He eased by slow degrees the rest of the way to vertical. Silence settled around them in a dim, fluffy blanket of black on white. And then something else. The sound that must have made Dutch freeze in his tracks. A sound of something slick, synthetic, rubbing on branches. Like a nylon ski jacket.
Dutch’s powerful arm swept around her waist, and he tipped her over, half burying her in a deep snow bank. A light dusting of crystalline snow showered down upon her.
She shook her head to clear the snow off her face and Dutch’s hand clapped over her mouth, halting the movement. His arm lay over her chest, and his body half covered hers. Warm breath touched her ear, and she felt the snow there melt against her skin. She lay in the embrace of the snow and the man, paralyzed by the heat inside her and the cold without.
A chill began to seep through her clothing, the deep painful kind that went straight to her bones. She did her best to suppress the shivering that set in, but her body had other ideas. She shook like a leaf beneath Dutch and found herself abruptly grateful for his weight pressing down upon her, holding her still.
And then she heard another swishing noise. This time from skis cautiously sliding across snow. If it was possible, Dutch went even more still. She held her breath and made like a tree. A nice, warm one that didn’t shiver.
Swish, swish…
Her entire being hummed with terror as the noise passed by them, not more than a dozen feet away. Dutch eased away from her and looked down at her. His intense gaze met hers. He didn’t have to say anything aloud. She was to stay quiet, follow his instructions, and not do anything foolish. She nodded her understanding.
He nodded back fractionally and then stood up slowly as complete silence descended upon them again. He stood there for a long time before he finally held a hand down to her.
She was numb with cold and fear as he pulled her to her feet. Who had that been? Just another tourist making his way back to the resort after supper, or someone more sinister? Her gut said it was the latter. Dutch’s gut must have told him the same thing because his jaw muscles rippled with tension.
He breathed in her ear. “We’re going to give this guy a head start to get well away from us. When we go, we’ll move quickly and quietly. No talking. Keep up with me or stay as close as you can. If we get separated, I’ll meet you at my car in the parking lot. Don’t go back to our chalet by yourself. Got all that?”
“Yes.” And then she asked the question burning a hole in her tongue. “Did you see who that was?”
His terse answer chilled her worse than any snow bank ever could. “That was your admirer from the restaurant. If I had to guess, he’s one of Eduardo’s hired killers.”
Chapter Six
Julia staggered and might have fallen if Dutch’s arm hadn’
t gone around her.
Her father had decided she was expendable, had he? Profound relief at being done with her father swept through her, along with a profound sense of loss. He might be a bastard and a terrible criminal, but he was still the only parent she’d ever known. She was well and truly on her own in the world, now. The only relative she had left was Carina.
The good news was that if Eduardo had declared his eldest daughter dead to him and sent assassins after her, he would be a lot less inclined to harm or kill Carina, who had just become, in effect, his only child and heir to his entire empire. Eduardo was big into legacies and family tradition. He was an orphan off the mean streets of Caracas, and the idea of family was inordinately important to him.
So be it. If she died to save Carina’s life, she could live with that.
Dutch pulled her close to his side, she shuddered against his solid warmth. She didn’t know how long she stood there, absorbing his body heat and silent reassurance. All she knew was with every passing minute, her father’s assassin drew further away from them. Thank God.
“Talk to me.” Dutch’s voice was low and urgent against her temple. “Do you have any idea who that guy was?”
“I’ve never seen him before. He’s not one of my father’s regulars,” she answered into his chest.
“Tell me what you know about these jokers so I know what I’m up against here,” he urged.
“I can tell you this much. The only contract guys my father hires to do his dirty work are the very best money can buy. And they’re almost always assassins.”
Dutch’s gaze bored into her, measuring the truth of her words. “Give me the financial information now. I’ll call in the authorities, and we’ll take your father down. Then we can nab this guy and call off him and any more like him.”
She whispered, “It’s not that simple—” Her voice broke.
He gazed at her in entreaty. “I swear, I can help you if you’ll let me.”
How was she supposed to answer that? He’d already declared his intention to hurt her the same way she’d hurt him. She could not tell him about Carina’s situation. She stared back at him wordlessly, watching in dismay as his compassion slowly changed to frustration.
“I want to help you, Julia, but I can’t if you won’t let me.”
His disappointment rolled over her, too much after the emotional drain of the last few weeks, not to mention the last few minutes. She didn’t have the strength to fight him. Nor did she want to. Gazing up at him, she absorbed his terrible tension into herself. Long seconds ticked by. Ever so gradually, the rigidity in his shoulders eased and the flat line of his mouth relaxed.
He finally asked, his voice low and pained, “Are you afraid of me?”
“Should I be?” she whispered.
He stripped off his gloves and his bare hands came to rest on her neck. She shuddered at her vulnerability as he circled her entire neck in his powerful grip. His fingertips trailed lightly over her skin to her nape, and his thumbs pressed lightly under her chin, tilting her face up. She fought an urge to let her eyes drift closed and simply accept the caress or the strangling to come. She stared up into the fathomless darkness of his gaze as he battled some private demon.
“You’re trembling,” he finally murmured. He was so close his breath felt warm against her lips.
And then his mouth touched hers.
Oh my God. He was kissing her. Her pulse leaped and her entire being trembled in shock and gratitude.
His lips brushed across hers lightly. Again, with a little more authority. And then he was really kissing her, his mouth moving across hers with a finesse that was almost reverent. Her knees melted into jelly, and her hands came up to cling to his broad shoulders as his arms swept around her.
The last ten years melted away in an instant, leaving her feelings as raw and vulnerable as they’d ever been where this man was concerned. Faint echoes of a jungle pressing in around them, all sound and steam heat, rang in her ears.
She moaned low in the back of her throat as he dragged her up against him. The heat of his body seared her, even through their ski clothing. His head slanted and she met him halfway, seeking and finding the best angle to meet his tongue with hers, to devour him as voraciously as he devoured her.
His hands roamed up and down her back and her entire being vibrated with the need to get closer to him. She surged against him, and one of his hands slid under her hair to the back of her head. The other slid lower, cupping her buttocks, lifting and tucking her snugly against him. Were it not for the heavy ski boots she wore, she’d have wrapped one of her legs around his waist, so great was her instinct to feel the hard length of him against her feminine softness.
His tongue plunged inside her mouth and she ran her tongue around his, sparring with him to see who could eat the other alive first. The short hairs at the back of his neck slid under her fingers, and the solid muscles there corded with tension.
And so it was that she felt the moment that his rampant lust shifted into reluctant self-control. No! She wanted more of him! Reluctantly, she forced herself not to cling as he eased back from the embrace. His kisses lightened and then retreated completely, and somehow she found the strength to let him go. It was one of the hardest things she’d ever done.
He stroked her cheek lightly with his thumb. His brooding gaze captured hers in the scant light. He stared at her for a long, pensive moment.
“Maybe you should be afraid of me, Julia.”
A shiver snaked down her spine. Maybe she should, indeed.
Holy hell and damnation. What had he been thinking to kiss her like that? He was not some raw recruit who let his crotch compromise missions.
Of course, Julia was doing her damnedest to compromise this mission all on her own. What was it going to take for her to give him the information he needed to unravel what the hell was going on? He could smell the currents flowing around her like smoke, but he couldn’t see them.
Her soulfully delivered story of the last decade was all well and good, but she was leaving out all the important parts. Why did she still refuse to trust him? He’d been steadily taking care of her, setting aside the past and protecting her just as he’d said he would. What more did she want from him before she started helping him?
He realized he was skiing aggressively, shooting down the trail with reckless abandon. He slowed so he wouldn’t lose her completely. But when he emerged onto the main trail, she was right behind him. Hell of a skier. Either that or she didn’t give a damn if she broke her neck.
She’d told the truth about one thing though. The guys trailing them were pros. How in the hell they’d even found this place, let alone figured out he and Julia were here, baffled him. The United States was such a transparent country it was damned hard to hide for any period of time. But twenty-four hours? How had Ferrare’s men tracked them down so quickly?
Was there a radio tracker in her personal possessions? It would explain a lot. He would have to check when they got back to the hotel. Surely his gear was still clean. They couldn’t have connected him to her. Unless—
He completed the thought reluctantly. Bitterly. Unless she was setting him up again.
He swore under his breath. He’d always scorned men who let beautiful women turn their heads and wreck their lives, but damned if his neck didn’t feel twisted around like a corkscrew right about now. He was a fool, and that was all there was to it.
Usually he was the master of knowing when to cut his losses, of knowing how to bend without breaking, of giving up the small defeat now in favor of the greater victory later. But this situation with Julia completely stumped him.
Near the bottom of the mountain, they skied into the lights from the night run at the resort. He let his speed build, burning off a fraction of the rage and lust pounding through him. That kiss had been one for the record books. How could any guy not want more where that came from? He was only human, after all. Looked like another cold shower was in store for him tonight.
He headed for the dark side of the main lodge and made Julia lurk in the shadows with him for nearly half an hour before he was satisfied it was safe to approach their chalet. Either her goons weren’t around, or—scary thought—they were better than he was.
He rushed her inside and tore through all her gear after a hurried apology for what he had to do. Once he told her what he was looking for, she stood by without complaint and let him have at her things. The underwear and lingerie brought unexpected heat to his face. But he gritted his teeth and made it through the exercise. Julia’s face was scarlet by the time he finished pawing through her sexy lace thongs and skimpy bras, but she didn’t die of embarrassment.
“All clean,” he announced a couple of minutes later.
“Thank God,” she murmured.
“Time to get out of here,” he announced.
To her credit, she didn’t utter a single syllable of complaint. She just sucked it up and repacked her things in about five minutes. Another five to wipe the place down for fingerprints, and two more to call the owners, thank them for their hospitality, and let them know about their abrupt departure.
Dutch scouted around outside while she waited in the dark for long minutes. Finally, he motioned her to join him outside. He tossed her bags in the back of his SUV but conspicuously left his on the ground. Time to call her bluff.
Julia stared at Dutch dubiously. Now what was he up to? He held out his hand and she looked down at it. His car keys lay in his palm.
“You want me to drive?” she asked in confusion.
“No. I’m giving you a chance to run. You’ve been itching to get away from me, and I’m going to let you go.”
Her gaze snapped up to his. He was letting her go? Why? And why was her stomach sinking in dismay and not soaring in elation?
He forged on grimly. “You could’ve left me lying on the floor when I hit my head, but you didn’t. You stayed and took the time and risk to make sure I was okay. I owe you one.” He jingled the keys lightly. “Go on. Take them.”
Her hand moved toward the keys. Then fell back to her side. She looked up at him regretfully. “I don’t want to leave you. I feel safe when I’m with you. I am safe when I’m with you. If only you’d—”
