Hell on Heels

by Carla Cassidy

  She felt sick as she watched the handsome man eye the women who passed his way, saw him stop first one, then another for a friendly chat. Never once did he look in her direction, which was fine by her. She considered this a bit of a reconnoitering detail and the last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to herself.

  It was nearing dusk when Willowby and his cohorts left the marketplace and headed down the beach. Chantal trailed far behind, realizing they weren’t headed in the direction of any of the local hotels, but rather toward a strip of bungalows that lined the beachfront.

  So, that’s why they hadn’t seen him in any of the hotels. He wasn’t staying in a hotel. He had a bungalow. Afraid of following any further, she sat down on the sand where a few other people were enjoying the last rays of the day and watched as the trio disappeared into the third bungalow in a row of six.

  “Busted, Mr. Willowby,” she murmured aloud.

  She stood and dusted the sand off as best she could, then turned to go back to the hotel, eager to share with Luke what she had learned and the new plan that was formulating in her head.

  “Where in the hell have you been?” Luke was on her almost before she got through the hotel-room door. His features were taut with tension, his eyes dark as the chocolate in her favorite Godiva box.

  She dropped her bags as he grabbed her by the shoulders. “You told me an hour. You said you’d be back here within an hour. It’s been almost two. Good God, Chantal, how could you be so damned thoughtless?”

  She pushed his hands off her shoulders and stepped back from him. “You aren’t my father and you aren’t my husband. Just because I’ve agreed to partner up with you for the moment doesn’t mean I owe you an accounting for every moment of my time.”

  He drew a deep breath as if to steady himself. “That’s true,” he said, his voice deadly quiet. “But I would think a woman with your upbringing would at least understand the concept of common courtesy.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I was worried.” The words seeped out of him as if with great regret.

  With those three simple words he managed to banish the anger that the confrontation had created. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I found him.” She sank down on the edge of the bed.

  “Willowby? Where?” A new tension rippled from Luke.

  “He was in the marketplace. It looks like he’s traveling with bodyguards…two big Hispanic men. I followed him, that’s why I’m late. I followed him to see where he’s staying.”

  “Did he make you?”

  “No. I don’t think he noticed me at all.”

  Luke sat on the bed next to her. “And you found out where he’s staying?”

  “A bungalow on the other side of the public beach. There are six and he went into the third one. I’m assuming that’s where he’s calling home these days.”

  “Then I guess we don’t need to hit the clubs tonight,” Luke said. “Want to order some dinner from room service? We can talk about a plan while we eat.”

  “That sounds perfect,” she said, a plan already in mind. If they went with her plan, then this would be the last meal she’d eat with Luke.

  Luke ordered their meal and while they waited for it to be delivered, Chantal went to shower. She not only felt as if she needed to get rid of the sand from the beach, but also the dirty cloying feel of watching Willowby hunting for new victims.

  It won’t be long now, Belinda, she thought as she stood beneath a steaming spray of water. That animal would go to jail and Belinda could reclaim her life.

  She got out of the shower and pulled on a sundress, wondering how Luke would respond to her idea for getting Willowby.

  She left the bathroom and found a lamp on in the corner of the room, but no sign of Luke. The door to the balcony was open and she peeked out to see him standing there.

  He had his back to her as he stared out on the water. For a moment she remained behind him, wondering what thoughts were going through his head. Funny, she couldn’t remember the last time she cared much what a man was thinking.

  He turned, as if he sensed her presence. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” He returned his attention to the watery nightscape.

  She stepped out on the balcony and moved to stand next to him. “Yes, it’s beautiful, although the beauty is somehow tainted to me now, knowing that Willowby walks on that beach.”

  “We need to find out what we can about the men who were with him,” he said. “And we need to find out if they’re with him all the time or only when he leaves the bungalow.”

  “Everyone I spoke to about Willowby mentioned that he was a fairly private person. I can’t imagine that he’d have anyone staying with him all the time. It would definitely cramp his style if he did have other people in the bungalow.”

  “Still, we can’t move in until we have more answers.”

  A knock on their door announced the arrival of their dinner. They left the balcony and within minutes were seated at the table discussing the case as they ate their meal.

  “You know, I was thinking this afternoon that it would be much easier to get Willowby back to the States if we didn’t have to try to take a commercial flight and we didn’t have to drive him,” she said. “A handcuffed passenger makes people on a plane nervous and driving will take too long.”

  He looked at her with interest. “You have another idea?”

  “The Worthington Boat Industries private jet,” she replied. “I could arrange with my mother to have it flown here. I’m sure there’s some sort of a small airstrip near here that would accommodate us for the right amount of money. The jet could be ready to take off whenever we had Willowby in custody.”

  “Ah, the perks of wealth,” he said dryly.

  She sat back in her chair and eyed him curiously. “Most of the men I know either resent my money or want to help me spend it. Which kind are you?”

  “Neither. I don’t give a damn how much money you have in your bank account.” His tone of voice held no rancor. “I haven’t done too badly myself when it comes to putting money in the bank.”

  “Money certainly doesn’t solve every problem,” Chantal replied. “My friend Belinda is worth ten times what I’m worth and yet she’s the most miserable person on the face of the earth.” She shook her head to dispel her concerns about her best friend. “My parents taught me that being wealthy comes with responsibilities and some moral obligations.”

  “It’s nice when people who have money do good things with it, which I know you do. It’s not great when the people who have money abuse the power that often comes with it.”

  He cut into his steak, then continued. “I’ll be the first to admit that knowing the kind of fortune you have, when you first started working for Big Joey, I wrote you off as a bored rich girl looking for some excitement. I figured you’d play at working for a while, then go back to your ivory tower. And I’m the first to admit that I was wrong about you.”

  His words pleased her more than anything else she’d experienced for a very long time. “So, what do you think about the jet?”

  He grinned. “I think it’s one time when it would be nice to take advantage of your wealth and connections.”

  “Good, then I’ll call my mother after dinner and arrange it.”

  For the remainder of the meal, they didn’t talk about Willowby’s imminent capture, but Luke entertained her with stories of his life before Big Joey’s and bounty hunting.

  It was as if they’d mutually agreed that while they ate they would not discuss Willowby. She was almost grateful for the respite. Willowby could take center stage after the meal. For now she just wanted to focus on the food and the interesting conversation.

  As he spoke about the relationship he’d shared with his parents and his brother, she felt the pain of his loss. She had the definite impression that the losses he had suffered had defined the man he’d become, a loner unwilling to allow closeness with anyone else to avoid suffering any meaningful loss again.

  It was after they
’d eaten and had returned the dishes to the serving cart and pushed it out of the room that they sat at the table to discuss their plans for getting their man.

  “Tomorrow we’ll check out those bungalows and the area surrounding them to get a general idea of what we’re up against,” Luke said. “We need to figure out his patterns and I want to get a look at those two men you saw with him, see what I can find out about them.”

  “I can tell you one thing, they were big and they looked mean.”

  “Big and mean doesn’t scare me,” he replied, his eyes glittering with challenge. “I’m fairly big and I can get pretty mean myself. What we don’t want is a scene of any kind.”

  “I have an idea of how to bring him in without a public scene,” she replied. She got up from her chair and began to pace in the small confines next to the bed.

  “He’s hunting, Luke. When I saw him today he was hunting for a victim. I could see it in the way he interacted with the women he talked to, I could see it in the way his gaze followed women that he passed.” A wave of nausea swelled up inside her as she remembered the way Willowby’s gaze had slid over each woman.

  “So what’s your point?” Luke asked.

  She stopped pacing and faced him. “I think we need to drop the honeymooning-couple cover.”

  “And do what?” His eyes narrowed and that telltale muscle in his jaw began to tick.

  Chantal swallowed hard, fighting against a surge of dread as she thought of what she intended to do. “I think I need to be a single woman traveling all alone. I think with just a little bit of work I could be Willowby’s next victim.”

  Chapter 12

  Luke stood so abruptly his chair teetered on two legs before settling back to the floor. “Are you insane?” He left the table and moved to within inches in front of her and glared.

  Warmth swept into her cheeks as she held his gaze defiantly. “Of course I’m not insane and I don’t really intend to let him rape me.” She took a step back from him.

  “Well, there’s a relief,” he said sarcastically.

  “Think about it, Luke. We know Willowby’s weakness is vulnerable women. Why not use that weakness against him?”

  In the faint glow from the lamp in the corner she could see his jaw muscle tick faster and his mouth compress into a taut line, but she continued, talking as fast as she could before he could speak.

  “From everything I know, Willowby isn’t an exhibitionist, he indulges in his crimes alone in his bedroom. If he’s going to dismiss his bodyguards it will be for a night with a woman. If I can get him interested in me, then he’ll invite me to his bungalow. He won’t feel threatened by a female so he’ll probably dismiss his guards for the night. I can take him down in his own living room.”

  “We’re not using you as bait.” There was a finality in his voice that infuriated her.

  “Then this partnership is ended and I’ll do things my own way. You need to just walk away and let me do what I came here to do.” She gasped as he grabbed her forearm and pulled her closer to him.

  “What are you going to do if he fixes you a drink? What are you going to do if he insists you drink it and it’s spiked? You may think you’re something of a wonder woman, Chantal, but even you can’t fight the effects of GHB. You’d be unconscious within ten minutes and he’d be raping you within fifteen. If you really think I can just walk away and let that happen to you then you don’t know me.”

  Before she could formulate any kind of reply, his mouth slammed down to hers. It was a hard kiss of punishment and possession. If any other man had kissed her like that she would have slapped him.

  Instead, she welcomed the raw emotion that his kiss ignited in the depths of her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back just as hard, just as demanding.

  His hands grabbed her buttocks and pulled her closer, so close she could feel his hard arousal and in that instant all thought of Willowby disappeared from her mind. The temptation she’d been fighting for days, perhaps for months for Luke exploded inside her.

  He moved his hips against hers, rubbing against her with a rhythm that intensified her desire for him. He pulled his mouth from hers and stared at her with a hot, hungry gaze. “Now is the time to stop this if you’re going to.” His voice was deep and husky and held a tremble that let her know just how badly he wanted her.

  Now was the time to say no, she thought in some distant place in her mind. Now was the time to halt this, but for the life of her, she couldn’t think of a single reason to stop.

  She stepped back from him and saw the dark disappointment that flashed in his eyes, a disappointment that vanished as she began to unbutton the tiny buttons that ran up the front of her sundress.

  “Why would I deny myself what I want?” she asked, unsurprised to realize her voice held the same slight tremble that his had.

  He stood as if frozen for the longest minute of Chantal’s life. He reached into his slacks pocket and withdrew his wallet. He opened it, pulled out a foil package and placed it on the nightstand, then he moved her trembling fingers aside and used his own to unfasten the buttons on her dress.

  As each button was unfastened she felt the heat of his fingers on her bare skin, a heat that flashed through her like wildfire.

  When he had the buttons unfastened to her waist, she shrugged out of the dress and it fell to the floor at her feet, leaving her clad in a pair of whisper-thin panties and a matching bra.

  He started to reach for her once again, but she stopped him. “My turn,” she murmured and reached for the buttons of his shirt.

  He didn’t move a muscle as her fingers worked the buttons, exposing inch by inch his lightly haired, solid chest. When she got to the last two buttons, he yanked the shirt off, popping away the final buttons.

  He wasted no time with his slacks. He kicked off his shoes and yanked off his pants with an alacrity that might have been amusing under different circumstances. Clad only in a pair of briefs, he stole her breath away.

  He was absolutely magnificent with his desire straining against the white cotton, his rippling abs taut with tension and eyes dark with a hunger more intense than she could ever remember seeing in a man’s eyes.

  Her knees felt like rubber and she sank to the bed, afraid that her legs wouldn’t hold her another moment. That familiar smile curved his lips. “I’ve wanted you naked and in my bed for months,” he said.

  “I’m not naked yet,” she replied, then licked her lips which suddenly felt too dry.

  “Let me be of assistance in rectifying that little detail.” He joined her on the bed and drew her against the length of him as he kissed her once again.

  This time the kiss held no hint of punishment, only the promise of unrelenting desire. His tongue teased hers, his teeth nibbling first on her upper lip, then on her lower, driving her frenzy of need higher.

  As he teased her mouth with his, his fingers worked the hooks of her bra and unfastened it. She shrugged out of it and he threw it aside, replacing the wispy material with the warmth of his chest against hers.

  His hands continued to move up and down the length of her back, his palms warm and slightly rough. Their kiss ended, but he moved his mouth to the hollow of her throat, the sensitive skin behind her ear.

  Shivers of pleasure shot through her and she undulated beneath him, arching her hips upward to make contact with his erection. He pulled his head back and stared down at her, his breathing short and uneven.

  Her own breaths were just as quick, just as irregular and when he dipped his head to take the tip of one of her breasts in his mouth, a deep, low moan escaped her.

  He sucked on one nipple, then turned his attention to the other, licking with his tongue, teasing with his teeth. She clutched her fingers in his hair, then grabbed at his shoulders, his muscles steely hard beneath her fingers.

  Almost mindless with the intensity of the sensations he evoked, she reached down between their bodies and rubbed the length of him through his briefs.
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br />   It was as if something inside of him snapped; whatever control he’d been maintaining was gone. He tore at his briefs and when he’d removed them he took the waist of her panties and shimmied them down the length of her. He reached for the condom package on the nightstand and with an efficiency of movement had the protection out of the package and on himself within seconds.

  He moved into place on top of her and with a deep, low groan of his own, entered her. When he was deep inside, he froze, as if any movement at all would push him completely over the edge.

  In the faint light of the room his features were taut. He drew a deep, shuddering breath and only then did he begin to move his hips against hers.

  Her need clawed at her and she arched beneath him and met him thrust for thrust. She’d never felt such crashing need for a man before, never felt so completely out of control. Higher, higher she felt herself climb and the intensity of their joining was greater than any she’d ever experienced.

  “People magazine, fashion shows, pink nail polish.” Her mantra sprang to her lips as their movements became more frenzied.

  She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him closer, deeper into her as her release became imminent. The tension inside her coiled so tightly she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. She cried out as the tension snapped. It was like shattering into a million pieces as wave upon wave of pleasure nearly drowned her in sensation.

  She was vaguely aware of his deep, primitive groan, of his body shuddering against hers and knew that he, too, had found ecstasy.

  He rolled to her side and gathered her into his arms, neither of them speaking as they waited for their heartbeats to slow.

  “That was intense,” he finally said.

  Intense. Yes, that was the perfect description for what they’d just shared. It hadn’t been sweet or romantic, but rather it had been intense…and hot.