Early Sins (Dangerous Games Book 0)

by Jennifer Bene

  No such luck.

  “Ah, yes! He gifted her a variety of jewels in their time together. Necklaces, bracelets, rings – worth a lot of money. If you can recover those as well, he would be even more grateful.” Jean rubbed his fingers together, another laugh bursting from his lips. “However, he cares most that she is dead.”

  “Alright, where do we find her, Jean?” Smith dropped the papers back onto the table and scooped up his wine glass instead. Skimming the page Camille saw nothing extraordinary. Just another dirty businessman, in another country. Nothing new.

  “My contact says he believes she is staying at the Hotel du Louvre, but she and Monsieur Richard have been seen at restaurants in Châtelet for several nights.” He shrugged. “As usual, you will need to choose your own moment to make your move as the Americans say.”

  “Merci, Jean. We’ll take care of it. I had mentioned we would want –”

  “The car, of course.” He stood up and walked into his kitchen, digging in a bag before he returned and tossed a set of keys to Smith. “It may be better to handle this on foot, Paris is a busy city as you remember.”

  “Is the car clean?”

  “Picked up by one of my friends and made ready for use. Just return it when you’re done, yes?”

  “Of course.” Smith smiled and reached towards her, his knuckles brushing her arm. “If you don’t mind though, I promised C an evening to remember in Paris.”

  “Well, C, I guess I do not get to know your name any more than I know Smith’s?” He chuckled and waved his hand. “It is no trouble to me, enjoy the city. She is a beautiful mistress.”

  “Thank you, Jean. This was a lot of fun.” Camille leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek, just before Smith tugged her back, but it sent Jean laughing again.

  “Oh, tsk tsk, mon vicieux petite fille! I cannot even think to challenge Smith for your affections, and your kisses are simply cruel! Go, both of you, enjoy Paris!”

  Smith pulled out the little burner mobile they had picked up and checked the time with a sigh. “Yes, we do need to go. Thank you again, Jean.”

  It took a while to meander back through the city as the sun set and the rose gold light seemed to set the city on fire. The closer they moved back towards the Eiffel Tower, the more Camille’s heart raced. It was like a dream, all of it, and she didn’t even want to risk pinching herself because she might wake up. There may be a duffel in the back with guns, knives, bullets, and documents condemning some stupid woman to death – but this was still a dream.

  Smith navigated the car confidently through narrow streets, and busy thoroughfares, all the way back to the Shangri’La hotel. His fingers entwined with hers above the gear shift.

  Finally, as they were heading down the hall to their room he cleared his throat and spoke up, “You know, Shangri’La was first referenced in a novel called ‘Lost Horizon’ by James Hilton. It was supposed to be a mythical paradise.”

  “If this is paradise, I’d be glad to end up here.” She smiled as she leaned back against the wall, watching as Smith hiked the heavy duffel up on his shoulder to open the door.

  “I’d give you paradise if I could, C, but since I can’t I wanted you to have some memory not steeped in training, or pain, or bloodshed, so…” He pushed open the door, and she could see the flickering light of candles on the walls as she leaned in.

  “What is this?” Taking a step into the room she saw tea lights forming a path strewn with rose petals, out to the open terrace. The Eiffel Tower glowed between the doors, lit up at night like something out of a photograph, and she barely noticed the two waiters standing outside as she followed the tiny candles towards the beautifully set table.

  “Madame…” One of the men stepped forward and pulled out her chair, and she wished she were in something more elegant than a sundress as she took her seat. Smith had left the duffel somewhere in the room and took his seat opposite.

  “This is me making sure you never forget Paris.” Smith smiled, all charming male-model, but she was sure he still had a gun tucked somewhere just in case. It only made her smile back harder, as she tore her eyes from his perfection to look out at the tower.

  “This doesn’t feel real.”

  “It is, madame.” The waiter to her right smiled as he poured wine for them both, the other waiter pulling the covers off two piping hot dishes.

  As they ate the meal, drinking too much wine, Smith kept the conversation light. Discussing how after he finished his business they could tour the city, climb the tower, tour the Louvre. When she corrected him that they both had business in Paris, even the waiters cracked smiles. It was perfection, and as he dismissed the waiters with the last of the plates – they were left with dessert, the candles on the table, and a beautiful suite. Alone.

  “So?” Camille asked, dragging a finger through the chocolate of the whatever-the-fuck dessert was on the table.

  “Are you tired? I’m sure the jetlag is killing you, and we both need our energy tomorrow.” Smith’s eyes tracked her finger as she slipped it between her lips, clearing the chocolate away with a swipe of her tongue.

  “Oh, I definitely think we need to go to bed, but I’m not tired yet.” She smiled when he immediately stood up from the table.

  Elegantly, he extended his hand to her to help her stand. “Then may I request you join me?”

  “Like you need to ask?” She grinned as he stepped forward and threw her over his shoulder, laughing when he dipped down to grab the dessert off the table before he walked them back to the bed. The room was impossibly fancy, and when he flipped her onto the bed she bounced on the fluffy, cloudlike bedding. “What exactly are you planning?”

  Smith placed a knee on the bed between her thighs, setting the plate of chocolate-whatever to his left. “I plan on devouring every single inch of you, and then making you come loud enough to bother the guests next door.”

  “Didn’t you do that earlier?”

  “I’m not sure they were in their room earlier.” Smith pulled off her shoes, and then slid his hands up her thighs, pushing the dress out of the way until he could hook his fingers into her underwear and draw them down. He moved excruciatingly slowly, watching as the polka-dotted fabric ran over her thighs, her calves, and then she lifted her feet so he could rid her of them.

  “I think you should strip too, it’s only fair.”

  “Are we playing fair, tonight?” he asked, as he grabbed the hem of her sundress and shoved it up past her waist, his mouth landing between her thighs, immediately zeroing in on her clit to make her gasp and moan. When she tried to pull back he grabbed onto her hips, teasing her with relentless swipes of his tongue until she was repeating his name over and over, so close, so close – and then he sat up. “Strip.”

  “Smith!” she whined, the tension at her core was a brutal taunt, but his eyes held no pity. He was enjoying himself. With a huff she sat up and tore the dress over her head, throwing it off the bed.

  “Bra too, mon vicieux petite mademoiselle.” Almost the same words Jean had used earlier, but they sounded like more of a growl from Smith, and she grew wetter just hearing them.

  “What on earth does that mean?” she asked as she unhooked the bra and tossed it as well, leaning back on her hands, naked in front of a fully-dressed but still impossibly sexy Smith.

  “My little…” he nipped at one thigh, “vicious…” he nipped at the other, “miss.” With a lick at her core she arched her back, but he held her in place to focus in on her clit again. Ecstasy stormed through her as the haze of alcohol only amplified each devious flick of his tongue, driving her higher and higher until she was barely able to whimper his name, her fingers finding their way into his hair to hold him in place.

  With a swift movement Smith grabbed her wrist and shifted up her body, his clothed hips between her thighs. He held her one wrist against the bed, and she gasped, needy as he rocked his hips against hers. “Please fuck me,” she whispered, and he groaned, leaning down to kiss along her
collarbone, before finding her neck and eventually her lips. She could taste herself on his tongue, and it made her want him more.

  She was always first. Always.

  “Smith!” Her voice was a plea, but when he sat up, all vibrant green eyes and good looks, she was stunned into silence.

  “You want me?” he asked, a low growl in his voice.

  “Always,” she whispered and he started to slowly unbutton the shirt he wore. Carefully revealing every inch of sculpted muscle, his hard body and ridged abs, until he tossed the useless cloth away. The whisper of his belt being torn free sent a thrill up her spine, but tonight wasn’t for that kind of play – it was just about her and him. Sitting up she tugged at the button on his pants until it gave way, drawing the zipper down just before he shoved his boxer-briefs down with them.

  With a low rumble in his chest he kicked them off and climbed onto the bed, his knees pushing hers wide, and he held her hands to the bed over her head. “Keep these here. No matter what.”

  “Why?”

  “Shh. No questions.” Sitting up between her legs she had trouble focusing on what he was doing because his rigid cock stood up from his hips, begging her to taste him, or draw him inside her – but instead, he wiped a chocolate covered finger across one nipple and then the other.

  “The fuck?” She opened her mouth to ask him what he was doing, but he slipped two fingers between her lips, silencing her with the sinful taste of chocolate on her tongue. As she rested back against the bed, keeping her hands where he’d placed them, his mouth surrounded one nipple and drew on it. Camille moaned against his fingers, but he teased her further, flicking his tongue against the tight bud as his hips rested between her thighs, his cock brushing against her baiting her further towards an orgasm that he seemed committed to withhold for now. “Mmthh!” she begged around his fingers, and he switched to the other nipple as he adjusted his hand to grasp her by the neck, keeping her laid back as he licked the chocolate from her.

  “Do you know what it’s been like watching all these men drool over you in that damn sundress all day?” His lips returned to her nipple as soon as he’d spoken and her back arched under him.

  “You fucking love that dress!” A whimper escaped her as he bit down lightly, before teasing her once more, his hips shifting against her in a mockery of what she really wanted.

  “I do. Seeing other men enjoy it makes me feel a little…” Smith leaned up and captured her lips, his hand moving into her hair to hold her to the bed as his tongue clashed with hers – a swirl of chocolate and sex and need. “Possessive.”

  “Then take me,” she growled back, and he captured her lips again, his thighs spreading hers further, and then his cock brushed against her. Velvet hardness, and in one smooth movement he was inside her, stretching her, filling her. She moaned against his lips, and he groaned as he thrust again. Just as she started to bring her hands up to wind them in his hair, he caught them and pinned her back down, holding her exactly where he wanted her as his strong hips drove into her again and again. Sparkling heat started to wind itself up her spine, blending with the knife-edge tension he’d built before he’d ever been inside her – and she knew it was a useless exercise to try and hold back. “Please…” she whispered, and he groaned against her ear, nipping before he spoke low.

  “Come for me.”

  “FUCK!” She cried out as the wave crashed over her. Light and sensation sparking every nerve ending into electric consciousness, an inescapable pulse of pure pleasure forcing her to lock up as Smith pressed inside her again and again. His quiet growls echoed in her ears as he leaned up to capture her lips and then she felt his cock kick inside her. Smith came with her, each pulse of her own pleasure squeezing him until they were both breathing hard, warm and wet against each other.

  “You are perfect,” he whispered as he caught her lips again, releasing her hands so that she could finally trace the damp skin of his back, each movement making his muscles jump under her touch.

  “You’re pretty fucking amazing yourself,” she laughed and she knew he was smiling even as he released a slow moan and pressed kisses across her shoulder. With a groan of effort he slid from her and landed at her side, his breathing harder for a moment or two before it slowed.

  Lifting up onto her elbows Camille took the opportunity to appreciate his sculpted chest, the long run of his hard abs, the sheen of her juices on his thighs as he propped one leg up on the bed. Every breath made his ribcage expand and contract, highlighting the muscles that she knew kept him strong and capable in every fight – whether it was a sparring session with her, or a knock-down drag-out with someone he deemed an enemy.

  He was fucking perfect.

  “Want to throw on some robes and sit on the terrace and eat the rest of that chocolate cake?” Smith grinned over at her when she glanced at him.

  “Do you really need to ask?” She smiled as he went to reach across her for the cake, and blocked his arm with her leg, pinning it to the bed with her shin. Sitting up slowly she lifted the plate with the cake and slowly traced a finger through it before slipping it between her lips. “It really is delicious.”

  “I’d hate to spill that cake, but if I have to toss you off me to get to it – I’m not above it.”

  “You wouldn’t ruin this cake,” she taunted, scooping another bite of it with her finger.

  “C…” Smith’s voice held a warning, but she just smiled, and then rolled away from him, keeping the cake upright as she dove off the other side of the bed.

  “If you don’t get the robes I’m just going to walk outside like this. With the cake.”

  “You wouldn’t –” he laughed, pushing a hand through his hair, that devilish smile making its way across his face. “Wait, yes, you absolutely would. Un moment, mon chéri.”

  With a swift bow, his very naked, very gorgeous self turned towards the bathroom to grab them robes. A few moments later she was wrapped in the softest terry she’d ever known, curled into Smith’s lap, with a full view of the Eiffel Tower at night. “This is amazing,” she whispered.

  “Yes, it is.” Smith smiled as he popped another bite of chocolate cake between her lips, and she licked his fingers clean.

  Resting back against his shoulder she watched the night sky drift between clouds, the golden haze of Paris unfolding beneath them. “I never imagined myself in a place like this. Not in a million years.”

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead, resting the plate on her thighs as he hugged her tight to him. “I know, it’s why I wanted you to have this. The whole experience.”

  “How long are we in this hotel?”

  “Three more nights.”

  With a smile she curled against his chest, letting the wine and the jetlag take hold. “Good, because I want to remember it forever.”

  “I hope you do, mon deux chéri, because it’s all for you.” As his words faded into the distant road noise of Paris, she focused in on his heartbeat, and soon not even that could keep her from the sweet, quiet embrace of sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Click.

  Click.

  Sabine Moreau smiled at her as she leaned close to light the cigarette she had bummed from another Parisian in pathetic English, and for a moment Camille felt bad for the beautiful young woman as she flicked the lighter and lit her cigarette. As soon as she lit it, she wrapped an arm around the woman and fake stumbled, as if she were drunk, and then she drew the little gun from her thigh, pressed it against Sabine’s ribs – and pulled the trigger.

  Boom.

  The muffled sound of the shot was impossible to hear over the traffic and the crowd, and as she let Sabine slide to the ground Camille let her hair cover her face, the shocked look filling the woman’s face, and then she pulled the trigger again. Head shot. Impossible to survive.

  Walking away from the cameras at the entrance of the restaurant, Smith stepped up next to her to slip his arm around her waist, allowing her space to tuck the gun into his coat as
they walked away. Just another drunk couple, enjoying their night in Paris.

  “Done?”

  “Done,” C whispered, and he pressed a kiss to her hair as he turned the corner to where they had parked. Just as they moved, shouts went up from behind them, and they continued without a pause. The little dark blue car was four down, and neither of them had actually drunk anything tonight. They’d spent the whole day trailing Sabine and Gabriel, discovered the restaurant they frequented. Verified it with Jean, and then waited.

  “Arrêtez!” A man yelled from behind them, and then gunfire broke out. Civilians and tourists screamed as Smith shoved her into the car, slamming the door hard, and she leaned up to see where he was, but a moment later he climbed in the other door.

  “My gun! Give me a gun!” she shouted, as Smith threw the car into gear and floored it out into traffic, narrowly avoiding another car. Then he dug in his jacket for her gun, keeping one hand on the wheel and his eyes on the road. It landed in her lap, still warm, as another car whipped into traffic behind them.

  Bullets bounced off the car, loud pinging ricochets that had Camille checking Smith, but he was shifting gears and moving them around the slower vehicles like an expert. “They’re smart, they already had a car ready to follow them.”

  “You think?!” Camille shouted as another round of bullets hit her side of the car. Pressing the button on the window she rolled it down and tracked the car, firing carefully towards the dark SUV following them. Her shots hit the front of the car, the side, but missed the windshield and the driver. Fuck. “I need another clip!”

  “Take mine!” Smith shoved his gun into her shoulder as he swerved around a small sports car, and a sedan, probably full of tourists, but Camille threw her gun into the floorboard and started firing again. Two shots later and she’d busted the windshield of the SUV, unsure if she’d hit anyone.

  “Go! Go!” She screamed, and then they were hit, the high pitch scream of metal scraping, the car spinning. They had been hit from the side, and she caught herself against the dash as they spun just before they slammed into something and she blacked out.