Strange Tango

by Michelle Dayton

  She hadn’t sent him the email about Knoll’s University activities yet. He’d been bluffing when he blackmailed her, of course. Sending her to prison did nothing to help him and it was certainly no place for an innocent woman. Blackmail and bluffing were simply other tools is his very large set.

  Almost midnight. Time to add the finishing touches to the disguise he always wore around Larsen’s bodyguard. It was one of his least attractive and most uncomfortable disguises, not to mention one of the most time-consuming to put on. He’d been wearing it anytime he was outside of his hotel room over the past two days, and he was starting to loathe it.

  The expensive wig made it look like he had black hair with a receding hairline. Dark contacts covered his usual bright eyes. The padding in his suit added an unflattering paunch to his midsection, which complimented his slouchy posture. Adam’s height was always the most difficult thing to hide, but poor posture and an awkward gait could do wonders. Cotton stuffed into his gum line added width and puffiness to his face. Theatrical makeup produced a set of moles along his left cheek.

  If all went well tonight, he’d be retiring this disguise and its corresponding identity, a Mr. Abraham Whipple, forever. Fidgety, he pulled out his own room safe and verified that he could still break it open in under five seconds. Using a small metal tool, he popped the door open, bypassing the keypad altogether. Three seconds.

  Larsen never used the hotel office safe when he stayed at the Peninsula, which made the odds fairly good that he stored the Rolex in the room safe while he was sleeping. Although room safes were not known for their tight security, Larsen probably figured it was secure enough while both he and the bodyguard were in the room.

  That might have been true. But the bodyguard wasn’t going to be in the room. And Adam was willing to bet on his stealth over the four scotches Larsen consumed this evening.

  Just before 1:00 am, he took a final glance around the room. He’d worn gloves the entire time he was inside, so no fingerprints would be left behind. Despite his best effort, he’d probably left hair in the bed or bathroom, DNA evidence, but there was no getting around it. Abraham Whipple wasn’t supposed to check out until Tuesday and he’d requested maid service early each morning. With any luck, his room would be cleaned before the investigation into Larsen’s watch’s disappearance identified him as a suspect. But it wasn’t a sure thing.

  Risks were part of the job.

  An hour later, things were on track. Adam, Frank and Tom, the two members of his crew, and the bodyguard had been playing poker for 30 minutes, and the bodyguard had won three hands.

  “Fuck, I need to fold again.” Adam stood up, feigning drunken anger, and strode around the table, rudely jostling both members of his crew and the bodyguard. “God damn it!”

  “Watch it, asshole,” Frank said.

  Adam shifted the bodyguard’s key from his hand to his pocket. “I need to take a leak.” If he hadn’t gotten the key on the first try, he would have escalated the argument and Frank would have taken a turn. Frank and Tom were good partners. They weren’t interested in planning jobs or in the necessary research, but they were superb actors and great at following directions.

  “Hurry back,” Tom chortled.

  “Fuck you,” Adam growled.

  The bodyguard said nothing, just stared at his cards. He was an awful poker player, Adam noted with disgust. He had a million tells, the first of which was an eyelid twitch whenever he had a good hand. Jessica Hughes could give him lessons. Her poker face was amazing.

  Christ. Her again. He’d met the woman twice. How could she be so distracting?

  Leaving the restaurant, Adam headed away from the restrooms to the elevator bank. Larsen’s suite was four floors up and five rooms to the east. Knowing that he was being recorded on hallway and elevator security cameras, Adam kept his head down and walked with the slouch and awkward gait that were critical to this disguise. Luck was on his side; no one else was in the elevator or hallway.

  When he reached Larsen’s suite, he used the bodyguard’s key to the outer room without hesitation. If Larsen was awake in the sitting room watching TV, he was screwed—but the bodyguard would never have left if Larsen was still awake. The only other wrinkle was the possibility that Larsen slept with the Rolex on his wrist. If that was the case, Adam would abort.

  The hotel room was dark and quiet, except for the snores heard from the adjoining bedroom. Adam straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath. With soundless steps he walked straight into the bedroom. Larsen slept on his back, his mouth wide open. Keeping his eyes on the man’s face, Adam side-stepped to the closet. The doors were already open, another bonus. He removed the metal tool from his pocket. With a quick prayer, Adam inserted the tool behind the keypad on the safe and popped the door open. It made a tiny clang.

  Larsen stopped snoring.

  Adam froze, welcoming the flood of adrenaline, and forced himself to picture the escape plan. If Larsen woke, Adam would run out the bedroom door and find the nearest staircase, which was at the end of the hall. They were only on the sixth floor, so he was fairly sure he could run to the ground floor by the time Larsen was coherent enough to call for security. By stripping his disguise, he could look like another man by the time he reached the parking garage to his escape vehicle. Yes, he could get away easily.

  But it would leave his partners in a more precarious position. He’d just reached for his cell phone, ready to text them 911...when Larsen started snoring again.

  He reached into the safe, brushing gloved fingers against the face of the inimitable Rolex. He couldn’t see the face in the dark, but he knew it had 17 jewels and gold Arabic and baton numerals. Later. The watch went into his pocket. Quietly, he closed the safe. No need to advertise its barrenness.

  He left the bedroom and then the suite in the same silent manner he’d entered. In the hall, he shuffled back to the elevator and back to the restaurant. Approaching the table, he looked at his own watch. He’d been gone four and a half minutes.

  His crew jeered his return, then both folded, allowing the bodyguard to wallow in another victory which took so much of his attention that he didn’t notice the return of his key.

  Now, the hard part. He sat there for another hour with the Rolex in his pocket and played poker. Then the bodyguard finally excused himself, with a smug smile on his face and more than five grand in his pocket. “See you next time.”

  No, you won’t. The instant he was on the elevator, his crew got down to business. Tom filled a trash bag with all the poker cards and drink glasses. Frank pulled cleaning solvent out of his bag and wiped down all the surfaces.

  When the cleanup was finished, Adam did the transfers on his tablet and handed it over.

  “Wire’s complete,” he said. “Check your accounts.”

  With small smiles, both Frank and Tom acknowledged the new $150,000 deposits.

  “Go now,” Adam said. “Walk out of the lobby dressed as you are, but change before you get on the train. Frank, take the Orange line to Midway. Southwest 684. You’re on the 6:00 am to Dallas. Tom, Blue line to O’Hare. American 380 to St. Louis. From there, you’re on your own.”

  Saluting him, they left.

  It was important not to use locals for these jobs. Once the theft was reported, the hotel would look at the lock logs from Larsen’s room. The logs would reveal that the bodyguard’s key had been used, and soon the gig would be up on the “poker game.” Frank and Tom had been disguised as well, but it was always best to leave the city immediately.

  He didn’t have that luxury this time, however. He was staying put until he had a plan of action for Maurice Knoll’s diamonds. Which meant he needed to follow up with a very special someone.

  Chapter Six

  Jess was so frustrated she ran the first two miles on the lakefront without even feeling them. The frus
tration was multi-faceted. First, she was stymied on her quest for justice. A week of analysis after downloading her University audit logs had given her some ideas about what Knoll might be up to with his University system access...but she didn’t know what to do with the information.

  Her brother Chris had been a total jerk when she asked him for help. She’d been careful not to incriminate herself in any way, but when they’d met for coffee, she hinted at having insider knowledge about shady dealings at the University that may have contributed to her firing and humiliation. Would the cops be willing to look at some data? “Hell no!” Chris had all but covered his ears and run away from her. His last words before he stalked out of the Starbucks were, “Just drop it, Jess. You’ve already embarrassed the entire family.”

  At least he’d done one thing for her, even if he was completely unaware it was related. The day after Adam surprised her in AJ’s, she’d FedEx’d his bourbon glass to Chris. “Can you run the prints for me? I’ve been on a few dates with this guy, but something about him doesn’t feel right.”

  Chris swore and blustered, but at the end of the day, she was still his only sister. He emailed her a few pages the next day, with the short but succinct message: “Dump him.” The data he provided from the arrest record was sparse, and she wasn’t able to find a lot more. Still, for a man whose life depended on disguise and secrecy, she thought she had enough. When the gorgeous Adam Patrick Henry (all those revolutionary aliases made more sense now) came calling again, he was going to rue the day he blackmailed her.

  And...there was the final source of her frustration. He hadn’t contacted her.

  She felt sure he’d reach out after a couple of days when she didn’t email Knoll’s University information. She kept her cell phone at an arm’s reach around the clock. She stopped by AJ’s every night.

  Now, a week and a half after the evening of fried pickles and strangely arousing Cubs trivia, she was starting to think that he’d moved on. Maybe he didn’t need or care about the information she had anymore. This should have been good news. Instead, it was curiously deflating.

  A stitch in her side forced her to slow down. The frustration was causing her to run much quicker than her usual seven-minute miles. She forced some deep breaths in through her nose. The lakefront was beautiful at twilight, the water deep and blue, with a cool breeze blowing west. In another half mile, she’d be able to see Navy Pier ahead.

  “Thank God you slowed down. You were running like someone was chasing you.” The sound of the deep, familiar, teasing tone sparked a flame in her stomach. Finally! She didn’t falter. She just casually glanced to her right, where Adam now jogged next to her. How did he appear out of nowhere like that?

  “Apparently somebody was chasing me,” she answered dryly. And ran just a touch faster.

  He laughed and matched her increased pace easily. “I didn’t expect you to make me,” he said. “But I haven’t received an email from you, Blondie.”

  “How about a deal,” she said. “You call me Jess instead of Blondie, and I won’t say your full name aloud.”

  “Which full name would that be?” He didn’t sound worried, exactly, but there was definitely a little caution in his voice. “Blondie.”

  “Tsk tsk, last warning. Adam Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death.” She looked over at him just in time to see the amused expression vanish completely. She wondered what would replace it. Coldness? Shock? Anger?

  His face stayed completely blank, which matched the next ten seconds of silence. Still jogging, they hit the Oak Street curve. Ahead of them, the famous Navy Pier Ferris Wheel came into view. Still, she waited for a reaction.

  “I’ve underestimated you,” he said finally. If she wasn’t mistaken, there was a note of grudging admiration in there. “Out of curiosity, what else did you find?”

  Surprised, she slowed to a walk. Normally she could run for hours, but she wasn’t used to matching wits with a handsome thief at the same time. “Not much,” she admitted. “Just two things. Your only living relative is an uncle who has been in prison after being convicted for burglary eight years ago. You own undeveloped property in Aspen, Colorado.”

  He winced. “Those two things are enough.” He gestured to an empty bench along the path, and they left the running trail to sit.

  Jess’s mind raced. What should she do now? Did she give away all of her leverage too soon because she wanted to show off?

  He was silent, and Jess forced herself not to squirm. Why didn’t he say anything? Why were they just sitting there like some normal couple watching the water?

  “Since I haven’t seen any glorious news coverage of Maurice Knoll being arrested with a cache of diamonds,” he said, “I take it you haven’t managed to uncover his smuggling plot and catch him red-handed?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “No. I have some good leads though.”

  “I have some of the puzzle pieces as well,” he said, eyes on the pink sky over the lake. “Can’t see the whole picture though.”

  Jess pulled her long braid over one shoulder and began to unravel it. What was he getting at?

  “What would you say to a temporary partnership?” Adam asked.

  The spark that had ignited in her stomach when he first appeared now grew into a full blaze of warmth that spread all the way through her body to the tips of her fingers and toes. Nonchalantly, she continued to unbraid her hair. “How would it work?”

  “We’d share information, make plans and execute them together—up until the point where our goals begin to differ.”

  Her mind raced to catch up. “And that point would be when we’re certain Knoll is in possession of the smuggled diamonds, correct?”

  He turned to face her now, giving her a smile so dazzling her stomach muscles actually clenched with lust. “Have I mentioned that I dig your wits, Blondie?” He lowered his voice. “I mean, Jess.”

  Thank God for her trademark composure. Because hearing her name in his voice made her knees feel shaky.

  “But yes,” he continued, more seriously. “At the point we determine that Knoll has the diamonds, our partnership dissolves. You do your thing, I’ll do mine. We’ll see where those diamonds end up.”

  Jess broke their eye contact and looked out at the water without seeing it. The word “yes” was already on the tip of her tongue, but her brain told her to bite it back. This was madness. Why would she partner with a man she knew she couldn’t trust? Or a man that she, at this very moment, wanted to climb on top of? He was probably planning on seducing information out of her without sharing anything of his own. Then he’d waltz away with the diamonds and she’d be right where she was six months ago: jobless, humiliated, and nearly broke.

  But what other choice did she have? She had no idea what to do with the information in her possession. No one else seemed to believe in her innocence. Her father and brothers barely wanted to talk to her, and she didn’t want to skulk away to Sarasota again.

  She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He just watched the water, waiting, a serene expression on his chiseled face. Maybe a limited partnership could work. They each had enough leverage on the other to even the playing field. For now. Once they started moving forward, he would undoubtedly have the advantage. She knew nothing about the players in the world of diamond smuggling. Or how to connect the dots between Knoll’s illegal activities and his very legal role as Trustee of the University. Yeah, she’d definitely be the junior partner. This was Adam’s world, not hers. But that’s why I need him.

  “Let’s do it,” she said, holding out her hand to shake.

  “Excellent.”

  He looked down at her hand. Then, before she could even take a breath, he put his hand on the nape of her neck, and pulled his lips to hers. Soft, warm, and utterly delicious, the kiss was over in seconds. Criminy.

  Determined to remain unfa
zed, she ignored the instinct to put his lips right back where they were, open her mouth, and scratch her nails down his back. Instead she stood and stretched her left quad muscle. “What’s next?” she asked blandly.

  He gave one his barking laughs. The kind that seemed to burst from his chest without him knowing it was coming. “We’re going somewhere you can put that poker face to use. We’re going to Vegas.”

  * * *

  Jess walked ahead of him on the gangway to the 747. He’d purchased first-class tickets for them both. For a moment it looked like she was going to protest, but then he’d mentioned the price and she closed her mouth.

  He wished he’d thought up this partnership weeks ago so that he could have gotten her a solid false identity to travel under. Technically, she didn’t need one. As a fully law-abiding citizen, she was free to fly to Vegas whenever she wanted. And it wasn’t like he was going to allow her into any dangerous situations where her actual identity should be hidden. But it just chafed against every undercover instinct that he had. Today, for the flight, he was Thomas Paine again. By the time they checked into the Wynn Resort, he’d be someone else.

  They took their seats in the third row. He was surprised when Jess accepted a mimosa from the flight attendant. She’d been so quiet ever since he’d met her at the terminal. He felt certain she would be stiff and guarded around him during the trip. Maybe to discourage any more impromptu kisses.

  That had been a truly stupid move on his part. She’d pulled the rug out from underneath him when she knew his true name. When she stuck out her hand to shake on the partnership, he had wanted to take her down a peg. To unsettle her. Hence, the kiss.

  Now he was the one unsettled. Now he had the tiniest idea of what she felt like, tasted like. Heaven. How the hell was he supposed to resist going for more?

  As the plane taxied down the runway and lifted into the air, he tapped her glass with his own. “Here’s to new partnerships.”