Lee (In the Company of Snipers Book 12)

by Irish Winters

  “I won’t be long,” she purred, tapping her ruby red lips with a recently manicured fingernail of the same color. “I just wanted to touch my beautiful babies again. They are so precious to me.”

  He unlocked and swung the heavy door open, and gestured her to enter. She nodded graciously and went inside the vault. “You’re most kind. I truly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Your wish is my command.” He couldn’t have sounded more insincere if he’d bowed and scraped at the same time. “You do have your keys for your box?”

  She offered a suggestive shoulder lift. “Why, Mr. Hussein, what a question to ask a lady. I have mine. Do you have yours?”

  The poor man couldn’t win. He hurried to Cashmere bin-Awa’s several lock boxes, flustered with her suggestive tone. “Which one are your, umm, babies safely secured in?”

  Tess tapped the box that matched the key in her pocket. Alex’s information had better be right. Pulling the key up and into Mr. Hussein’s face, she winked, then inserted it. He unlocked the second lock and... bingo. Perfect fit.

  Tess released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Mr. Hussein did the same, the poor, poor man. It was so not his day. “There you are,” he said hurriedly. “Most customers are allowed ten minutes, but I’ll make an allowance for you, Miss bin-Awa. There’s a phone just inside the vault door. Take all the time you need to examine your treasures. Ring when you’re finished.”

  “I’m sure you—” Right on schedule, the alarm shrieked. Tess feigned indifference, raising her voice over the din. “If that is the press, please tell them to wait for me upstairs. Ah, the noise. I’m not ready to meet with them. They can be such a bother.” She waved her fingers, shooing him off as if nothing troubled her. “Go on, now. You have a bank to attend to. Don’t worry about me. Once I see my babies, I’ll be fine.”

  “It’s not the press.” Mr. Hussein glanced nervously toward the stairs, then back to Lee and Alex, still as immoveable as the marble pillars on the first level. “It’s against bank policy to leave a customer in the vault when an alarm is triggered. I’m afraid I’ll—”

  “You don’t trust me?” Tess spiked an eyebrow, one hand on her hip and her lips pinched into a childish pout. This was where the rubber met the road. He had to believe she was a powerful brat with too much clout; that she would run to Daddy bin-Awa at the first inkling of not getting her way.

  Mr. Hussein lowered his chin to his chest as he suffered through a full-on body tremor. “Of course I trust you. I have only the deepest regard for your father. Please. I will secure you inside the vault. Your bodyguards may wait here if they choose, or they can go upstairs with me.” He swallowed hard. The poor guy’s throat had to be parched the way he worked his throat muscles.

  “Don’t worry about them. They’ll wait here,” Tess said. “Now lock me in. Hurry. You have important business to take care of. I don’t wish to be a bother.”

  Mr. Hussein did just that. Pushing the heavy vault door shut, he closed Tess inside.

  Finally! She ditched the heels the moment the door sealed, fully aware a video camera inside the vault recorded her every move. Instead of lifting the lid on the lockbox, she feigned a fit of sneezing that took her out of the camera’s line of view. Once beneath it, she pulled a small aerosol can and a pair of gloves from the folds of her hijab. With one shot of the acidic spray, the camera lens was permanently distorted.

  She tugged the gloves on. Just as quickly, she scurried to the wall where Turik’s safety deposit box was stored. Again, she wondered at the scope of Alex Stewart’s covert surveillance business as she slid the appropriate box from its numbered location. The man seemed to have inordinate access to all manner of resources. She could learn to like him. She had the bright ideas, and he definitely had the means. They could go far.

  Laying the metal box on the table at the center of the room, and using the two keys Alex had provided, she opened Turik’s lockbox. There lay the most exquisite artifact in the world, the reliquary of Alexander the Great’s lost love, the royal Bactrian Queen Roxana. Tess lifted it into her gloved hands, in awe of the ancient queen all over again.

  Unfastening the tiny metal latch, she double-checked that both desiccated fingers were still intact. Tess had to be sure. Closely examining them, she looked for the barely visible impressions left by Monsieur Favreau’s scalpel. He’d been so careful not to damage the relics when he’d taken his DNA sample, but Tess had been just as careful to observe, to memorize the unique identifying characteristics of those age-old fingers.

  She breathed a sigh of relief. Both fingernails were stained and dark, both chipped with unique and delicate patterns of decay. Yes. These were the same fingers.

  Satisfied but her throat parched, she set the reliquary on the table while she removed her personal lockbox. Within a minute, she transferred the reliquary from Turik’s lockbox to Tess Culver’s. Quickly, she replaced Turik’s lockbox and hers to their proper places.

  Her heart pounded and her lips were dry. Time was running out.

  Although Mr. Hussein had said she could have all the time she wanted to play with her collection, once he realized the scope of his problem upstairs, she knew he’d return in quick order. As heavy as the vault door was, it could open silently at any moment. If he caught her now—

  Anxiety crawled up her back like a giant spider. She hurried to the table where Cashmere’s lockbox waited, its lid still down.

  Click. The precision cylinder in the massive door had just tumbled. Oh my God! He was back. She wasn’t done. She needed Cashmere’s blue stones in her hands to authenticate the ruse. Her heart thudded. Tess ripped the gloves off and glanced over her shoulder. The vault door hissed open. Time was gone.

  Panic grasped her by the throat. The lid was stuck!

  She tried again.

  Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

  “Sir.” Lee tapped Mr. Hussein’s left shoulder before he could swing the vault door open. “I believe you dropped this.”

  Keeping his best Men in Black impression going, Lee handed the tense-looking man his very expensive Rolex watch, which Alex had successfully lifted only moments earlier. Mr. Hussein glanced at it, and did a lightning-quick double take. He snatched the watch out of Lee’s hand, glaring like he couldn’t believe he’d lost it to begin with. Suspicion shifted across his face.

  Lee returned to a bodyguard stance, his hands clasped in front of him, his back straight, and his Oakleys forward. He and his boss were clones for the moment, two bouncers whose only duty was to protect one Cashmere bin-Awa, who had better get her pretty little ass out of that vault if she knew what was good for her.

  “Where did you find it?” Mr. Hussein barked, his nose twitching in annoyance.

  “On the floor, sir,” Lee offered his best Tommy Lee Jones impression. “Isn’t it yours?”

  “Of course it’s mine. You know it’s—” Hussein’s eyes darted up the hall, back to the stairs, and finally landed on the vault. “Thank you. You’re a rare man. Most people wouldn’t have returned an expensive watch like this.” The heavy door opened soundlessly while he circled his wrist with the elegant piece of jewelry and clasped it shut.

  Lee flashed the pretentious watch on his own wrist, hopefully a good enough fake Rolex to be convincing. “I don’t need two, sir. Just doing my job.”

  Raucous coughing caught Lee’s attention. There stood the beautifully distraught Cashmere bin-Awa, one hand caught up in the purple scarf around her neck to cover her nose and choking her tear-filled eyes out. She leaned dramatically against the doorframe, her other hand to her forehead. “Praise Allah! I thought you’d never come.” She coughed and sputtered again. “The air in here isn’t good, my friend. I have been suffocating this entire time. Come. You must see this.”

  Pulling Mr. Hussein into the room with one hand, she held her scarf to her nose with the other. She pointed to an odorous wet spot on the floor. “Don’t you have enough staff to clean the vaults? Are
you too poor to afford simple maintenance, or are you too cheap? How could you do this to me? Me! Prince bin-Awa’s only daughter!”

  Lee listened to her carrying on and Mr. Hussein’s flustered apology. The poor man had just had the morning from hell. First, the royal brat had shown up unannounced. Then the electronic device hidden in Tess’s purse had pinged the high-tech vault’s security system upstairs. And now Miss bin-Awa was coming undone in his basement over a puddle of something Tess had deposited on the floor. Actually, it was a semi-toxic concoction of mashed camel dung and some kind of cleaning compound Jordan had come up with, its rancid odor wafted unpleasantly into the hall. No wonder Tess was hacking up a lung. It smelled nasty.

  “And look at this,” she demanded, her sexy Eastern Bloc accent growing whinier. She dragged the bank manager by his elbow to one corner of the room.

  “What is it?” Mr. Hussein squinted at the video camera, its lens now opaque and worthless.

  “How do you expect me to know what is wrong inside your bank? That isn’t my problem. It is yours,” she declared emphatically, gesturing to a tray of glistening blue stones on the counter behind her. “I was barely able to enjoy my lovely collection when I was overcome by noxious fumes. I looked around and I found this, this mess! You’ve ruined everything! My entire morning has gone sour in my mouth!”

  Lee suppressed a grin. Okay, now she was just plain overacting.

  “But Miss bin-Awa...” Mr. Hussein tried to get a word in edgewise.

  “No!” Tess stormed out of the vault, still coughing and covering her mouth. “You’ll have to secure my collection for me. I’m too weak to do it. I’m faint. The fumes in your vault have compromised my delicate system. Ahh! It is too hard to breathe, and your bank is still too warm. I’m so disappointed in you, Mr. Hussein. I thought you were my closest friend. I can’t stay one second longer. I want to go home. I need the fresh, cold air of my country to restore my good health.”

  “But Miss bin-Awa...” He stood perplexed at the vault door as Tess feigned another coughing attack, leaning into Lee with her head bowed, her slender fingers covering her mouth, obviously in a shattered state.

  “Get me out of here, meine liebchen,” she begged pathetically. “My heart is broken. I must call Father. Can you dial his number for me?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Lee replied stoically, not cracking a smile at the spoiled brat on his arm who’d called him—in German no less—her sweetheart. Let’s hope Mr. Hussein is too spun up to notice.

  “Wait. Please. Let me help.” The poor guy had a problem, caught between Cashmere’s now unguarded precious stones in the vault, and his very angry client throwing a class-A temper tantrum in the hall. Lee almost felt sorry for him as he supported the weeping phony Cashmere up the steps.

  Tess let out a distraught wail. The few customers in the lobby turned at the loudly distraught woman on his arm. The security guards held the entrance doors to hasten their departure. Alex followed closely behind, his hand to his ear while he relayed specific and clear instructions to the pilot of the non-existent bin-Awa Lear jet on the tarmac at Kabul International. “Prepare for immediate take-off,” he ordered loud enough for all within range to hear. “Yes, that is a go. Have Prince bin-Awa on the phone by the time we arrive.”

  Into the pristine black limo they went where their driver, Hunter Christian, had the engine running. He met them with a stifled grin, the limo door open. “Well done, guys.”

  “Sit rep,” Alex barked the moment he slid into the front seat and closed his door.

  “The cell phone in Miss Culver’s purse is transmitting perfectly,” Hunter replied. “It’ll ping the anti-theft alarm on the main vault as long as it’s in the building. The noise will be unnerving at thirty-minute intervals. It should provide all the distraction we need for step two.”

  “Are you two ready?” Alex turned to the backseat where Lee and Tess sat side by side.

  “Ready,” Lee answered, while Hunter pulled away from the curb. “Mind closing the privacy window so we can change?”

  “Copy that.” Hunter activated the dark glass, his brow lifted, the hound dog.

  The smoked-glass window between front and back seats was no more than raised when Tess captured Lee in a passionate tangle of hands, lips, and tongues. “We don’t have time for this,” she breathed, her hands wandering over his chest, down his abdomen to his belt. “But seeing you in this suit,” she moaned as she pushed his jacket off his shoulders and whipped his belt out of its loops. “You’re so damned hot.”

  Me? Hot? Lee’s blood fired at the nerve of this woman climbing into his lap and undressing him. It had been a long time since he’d heard anything close to the sexual tension or the urgency in her voice. His tie went next. He returned fervent kiss for kiss, his hands just as quickly to that annoying scarf at her neck that made it impossible to nuzzle her throat.

  Common sense kicked in the second her long fingers breached his zipper and fondled him. “Holy hell, Tess,” he ground out, clutching her hands before she delved any further. “We can’t do this. Not now. Not here.” Not with my boss in the front seat.

  The needy moan from deep within her throat made him think twice. They couldn’t grab a quickie in the back seat of this limo while Alex sat in the front—could they? His body roared, “Hell yeah!” but his brain offered nothing but pure, hard to accept, logic. Be smart. Work first. Sex later.

  “But I deserve a reward for my performance,” she coaxed, her breath hot against his, her tongue caressing the hell out of him, “and I want it now.”

  This—this—was why Lee craved her. Her passion. Her impulsive spontaneity. Her voracious hunger for life and for him. She made him feel like a kid again, like he could do the impossible. Manly satisfaction tweaked the corners of his mouth. With her kind of kinetic energy in his big hands, how could he lose?

  Well alrighty then. “Lose your skirt and your underwear,” he ordered. “This is going to be quick.”

  He should’ve known better. Tess stripped out of that pencil skirt, her blouse and—everything. Holy Jesus H. Christ. All Alex or Hunter had to do was accidently bump the button to activate that smoked-glass barrier, and Lee would be fired on the spot for having his hands all over his very naked client. Who cared? Not him. Not with this sultry temptress perched on his knees and fondling the hell out of him.

  She giggled and she wiggled. “Your turn. This is supposed to be quick, remember?”

  He hurried, dropping his boxers just enough to get the job done. He’d no more than bared himself when she straddled his thighs, her hot core dripping down on him and her body poised for action. Lee took control of her naughty propensity for risky situations, his hands firmly on her hips to hold her still before she started rocking the limo. It had been a long damned time since he’d done anything so daring.

  “Gently,” he urged quietly, a definite raspy timbre to his voice. “Smoothly.”

  He lowered her onto him, sheathing himself into the bliss of her steamy bliss, his body aching for release. The outright dangerous position they were in added to the sexual tension rippling up his spine. Tess ground her hot self against him, her hands braced on his shoulders while he controlled the ride. Breathing hard, she rocked gently, her eyes on him all the way, as in… All. The. Way.

  A whimper escaped her lips at the same moment the burn commenced low in his groin, thickening him while he stretched her. The roar of the fire in his veins threatened his control, but he held fast. To her. To their incredibly hot connection. The sultry scent of their sex filled the back seat area, but he didn’t care. It only added to the outrageous risk factor. The insanely foolish, adolescent stunt he meant to carry to fruition now that he had his hands full.

  With a quiet whimper, Tess arched her back, filling his face with her soft, pillowy breasts. He latched onto one taut nipple, suckling her into the fiery hunger of his mouth, swallowing her whole. She mewled and lightning struck him hard. He pushed up and into that farthest recess of her core,
lifting her ass with that final explosive thrust.

  And damn. The risk was worth the sensual energy that struck, welding them together. It was worth every last heartbeat of her amazing ride. Before the sizzle from that magnificent arc of pure white lightning collapsed them into each other, he tugged her under his chin, his palms still splayed over her naked ass, kissing her passionately, needing that exclamation point to the end of this utterly crazy operation.

  Her hands smoothed down his waist and around to his backside, squeezing between him and the leather upholstery to hold him tight. With one last passionate taste of her sweet lips, he lifted her temporarily sated body off of his and away from more risky temptation. For now. There were no two ways about it. Tess would be the death of him.

  But what a way to go.

  Chapter Seventeen

  He’d never planned to be a bank robber. It just happened. One moment he was a junior agent for a prestigious covert surveillance company out of Alexandria, Virginia. The next he was making love in the back seat of a limo, then waltzing through the front doors of the Bank of Central Kabul with the stunning Tess Culver on his arm, and the second heist of the day was underway.

  She’d traded the red hair of Cashmere bin-Awa for her own natural ebony piled high on her head with wispy tendrils dangling casually over her neck and around her ears. The scarf was gone as was the expensive get-up and high heels. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her when she’d changed clothes in the back of the limo. What red-blooded guy could?

  “You’re going to make me laugh.” She’d warned him as she lifted that sexy butt off the leather seat to slide denim jeans up and over her hips. “Stop looking at me like that.”

  He’d pretended innocence while he’d pulled on olive drab cargo pants and a red, white, and blue T-shirt, courtesy of Hunter. “Like what?”

  “Like you’re hungry again.” She offered another dazzling smile, tying the white laces on her bright pink Nike running shoes. How appropriate for the cat burglar she was at heart.