DEADLY GAMES Jaycee Clark 1

by james

  For a moment they just stared at each other. Ian’s muscles tightened, his gut

  squeezed and all he saw was her, and those wicked green eyes.

  The woman tries to kill him and he finds her attractive.

  A slow grin lifted her lips, dimpling into a smile. “I’d love to know what’s going

  on in that mind of yours.”

  He blinked, then looked at himself again in the mirror. Turning his head one way

  then another. “I was thinking it was time for a trim.”

  “And a shave?” Her eyes twinkled. “Do I get the honors?”

  Should he go blond? “I wouldn’t let you near me with a razor.”

  Her chuckle danced between them and sunk straight to his groin. He shifted.

  “Darling, if I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t use a razor.”

  He needed his bag. He turned, but she blocked the doorway.

  They both stood there, staring at each other. Ian inhaled deeply and caught a whiff

  of something floral. Jasmine and spice? His eyes ran down her. Still dressed in her turtle

  neck that clung to her curves. Trim belly, a rather flat chest and muscled arms. Her legs

  were long. Her neck graceful, seemingly longer than he remembered from her provocative

  sweater earlier last night. Her lips were lush, full, and that straight-lined nose tilted up

  just so at the end making her almost vulnerable somehow. He stepped closer.

  She didn’t move, only continued to stare at him.

  “Why didn’t you mark me?” he asked, his voice low. He put one arm up on the

  other side of the door facing so she’d have to duck and go under to leave. Her eyes were

  wickedly pale and this close he saw they weren’t just green, but also dusted with golden

  flecks.

  Her lashes swept down. “It didn’t feel right.”

  “You always do what you feel is right?” He leaned a bit closer, and noticed her

  shoulder muscles tighten. Definitely jasmine.

  She licked her lips, looked at him from under her lashes. “Mostly.”

  Ian leaned closer. “Good. So do I.”

  To hell with it. He leaned in and she met him halfway.

  Her lips were as soft as he thought they would be. Neither of them touched except

  with their lips. He shifted, standing a bit closer, just a bit more and their chests would be

  touching.

  She tilted her head, angling, and bit his lip. Ian sucked in his breath, his eyes

  darting open. Her eyes watched his and she slowly licked the spot where her teeth had

  nipped, her tongue warm and wet.

  He felt her smile before she ended the kiss and pulled back. One brow cocked she

  said, “And I never do anything I don’t want to do.”

  As she watched, he licked his lip the same spot she had only moments before.

  “That makes two of us.”

  He didn’t move as she walked away and across the dark room, back into the living

  room.

  John stood in the living room, looking into the bedroom, a straight line to the

  bathroom. His eyes met Ian’s and John only shook his head.

  What the hell was he doing? Ian hurried into the living room, grabbed his bag up

  DEADLY GAMES Jaycee Clark 72

  and turned to head back to the bathroom.

  “The passports should be here within the hour. I need to take your photos,” Tanner

  said.

  Ian nodded to him and kept walking. Too much to do, too little time.

  So what the hell was he doing kissing the woman who had been hired to kill him?

  Shit.

  He was loosing his mind. That was all it was. Had to be it.

  As he walked through the bedroom he glanced at the bed, saw the girl was awake

  and watching him. He slowed, but didn’t stop near the bed as she tensed. Ian gave her a

  smile and walked on.

  He set his bag down, and almost shut the bathroom door. Instead, he left it open

  so he could see into the room. He pulled his shirt off, draped a towel in the sink, and

  pulled the scissors out of the bag. Wetting his hair, he combed it. It was longer than he

  realized, almost to his shoulders.

  The scissors clicked, echoing in the tiled bathroom as dark locks of his hair fell

  into his hand. He dropped the pieces into the towel. Snip. Snip. Snip. It took several

  minutes, but he had most of it off.

  He heard her voice before he saw her appear in the mirror again. He paused.

  “What?”

  “You want to look like you cut that yourself?” She stepped up behind him. “Here

  give me those.”

  His eyes met hers in the mirror and she grinned.

  “Stabbing is really not my thing. Incredibly messy. I’d rather have a gun any day”

  She held her hand out. “And besides, your blokes in there would have my neck broke

  before you even bled out. So give over.”

  Ian slapped the scissors in her hands.

  “You’ll have to get down a bit, I’m tall but not that bloody tall.”

  Ian knelt down. “Why do I get the feeling you enjoy this?”

  “Yes, having a man on his knees before me is rather nice.” She continued to snip

  his hair. She paused and both their eyes shifted in the mirror to the doorway where the

  girl stood, wearing a too large tee shirt of his. Her thumb firmly in her mouth.

  Her eyes only stared, she barely moved.

  Ian didn’t know how the hell to put her at ease or even how to communicate with

  her.

  Rori jerked his hair, yanking his attention back.

  “You keep moving and I won’t be responsible if you get a bad trim.” Snip. Snip.

  Snip.

  He kept his head straight, but his eyes on the little girl. She came a bit closer.

  Then a bit closer, but never completely into the bathroom.

  Ian grinned at her again, hoping to put her at ease.

  “There,” Rori said, rolling her fingers into the towel. “You’ve a head of hair on

  you, but I think that’ll do, no?”

  He turned his head one way, then the other. It was short, almost a crew cut, but he

  didn’t care. He would probably shave it off when they switched identities again anyway.

  He nodded. “It’ll definitely do.” His eyes met hers. “Thanks.”

  DEADLY GAMES Jaycee Clark 73

  Smiling ruefully, she handed him back the scissors. “Now if you could just find a

  razor, we might be ready by the time your friends arrive.”

  With that, she walked out of the bathroom, and the little girl hurried out of her

  way, hiding around the doorway.

  Rori stopped, asked the little girl if she was hungry and made motions to her

  mouth as if eating. Then motioned for her to follow.

  The little girl looked from him to Rori. Deciding to help out. He smiled again,

  pointed to Rori and then gently closed the door. He wrapped the towel up, tossed it into

  the wastebasket and wiped the counter clean.

  Stripping, he quickly climbed into the shower and washed the last of the hair off.

  He shaved, redressed. Making certain the bathroom was as clean as he could get it, the

  tub and drain free of hair, he nodded. He opened the bathroom door, steam billowing out

  into the cool room.

  He almost stepped on her.

  The little girl sat on the floor, in his tee shirt, her spindly legs and bare feet

  straight out in front of her, pastry crumbs all over the shirt, and what looked like a bit of

  poppyseed filling on the top of her lip.

  “Looks as if you’ve eaten,” he said, squat
ting down.

  She placed the kolachie on the white plate beside her and wiped her hands on her

  shirt.

  He didn’t move.

  She stared at him, in that straight silent way she did, the dark blue eyes wide and

  curious.

  Then ever so slowly, she stood, her head tilting to the side. Her little hand reached

  out and touched his cheek, rubbing the now smooth skin.

  He smiled at her.

  “Looks like you’re charming all the ladies,” John said from the doorway.

  The little girl quickly jerked her hand behind her back.

  Ian reached out and rubbed her arm, smiling. “Yeah,” he answered John. “If I

  could only charm this one into speaking.”

  DEADLY GAMES Jaycee Clark 74

  CHAPTER TEN

  She clutched the teddy bear to her as the man tightened the belt across her lap.

  The seat was big.

  They were on a plane. He said he was taking her some place safe. The lady was

  still with them.

  Where was Zoy? Didn’t Zoy get to come? She clutched the black bear tighter to

  her as he settled back into his seat and patted her hand. Telling her it would be all right.

  Earlier that day, they had left the hotel and she had new clothes. A blue pants suit

  with fat white buttons and a white collar. He even gave her black coat that went to her

  knees. She wasn’t cold any more.

  Where were they taking her? She’d tried to ask him, but her voice wouldn’t work.

  The man knew she spoke because he’d asked if she was hungry earlier and she

  nodded. He’d smiled then and called her Darya.

  Why did he call her Darya?

  Zoy had called her Ayrena.

  But the man called her Darya and he gave her the soft black bear.

  She buried her face in the fur and held on tight. They were going on a trip, he’d

  told her as they walked into the building with all the people. They’d been in a car all day,

  driving and driving. She wondered where they were going when they’d come here. Planes

  took off and zoomed away. Big and heavy as smooth, painted, metal birds.

  The man carried her onto one telling her she was going to be like a bird and they

  were going to fly.

  She wondered if she’d see Zoy. Maybe someone else was bringing her sister. The

  man sat on one side of her, on the aisle and the lady sat on the other side beside a little

  window. The man and lady had argued, or she thought so. Apparently they’d both wanted

  to sit on the outside.

  But the man was sitting there now, watching her, watching the lady, watching

  everyone. He always seemed to be watching everyone.

  Was he looking for her sister too?

  He looked at her, and ran his hand over her hair the lady had braided. She waited.

  He seemed nice, but you never knew. Sometimes nice became mean.

  Like the other….

  No. No. She shook her head and put her thumb in her mouth. He frowned for a

  minute and she noticed his eyes darkened. He looked different with his hair cut and his

  smooth face. And the glasses. She liked his face smooth, it didn’t scratch her forehead or

  cheek when he held her.

  And for some reason, when he held her, she felt safe.

  She looked at him again. He’d keep the monsters away.

  Please let him keep the monsters away.

  The plane jerked as it moved. She looked out the window and saw the buildings

  going by faster, faster, faster. She squeezed the bear to her chest, scared.

  DEADLY GAMES Jaycee Clark 75

  Her tummy tickled and she was pushed back into her seat. She held the bear

  tighter as she saw the tops of the buildings out of the window, and then the blue sky. She

  couldn’t hear. A loud hum filled her ears, her head.

  Her heart fluttered and she turned to the man, scared that they’d fall.

  He smiled and patted her hand. She sucked harder on her thumb and held her bear

  even tighter.

  Would they all turn into birds?

  * * * *

  Rori watched the scenery whir by below. Frankfurt fell away and the German

  countryside below was dotted and squared in greens, browns, and greys.

  They’d left the Czech Republic that morning via Cheb and into Dresden,

  Germany. A few hours on the autobahn put them into Frankfurt in time to catch British

  Airways flight 905 that afternoon.

  She sighed and leaned back against the seat.

  That morning, a man, nameless, had stopped at the hotel, dropped off a packet,

  taking a wad of money and was gone. One of the men, Tanner, tall, blond brown hair,

  dark eyes and squared features, had gone downstairs to a shop inside the hotel and

  purchased them clothing. So that her passport didn’t look the same as what she was

  wearing that day, she put on one of Ian’s white tee shirts and her jacket. Quick snap of the

  digital, a few computer strokes, a bit of finessing and viola, new passports.

  She was listed as Lori Hightower, wife of Evan Hightower, businessman. They’d

  just adopted their daughter from an orphanage in Russia. They had all the papers to prove

  that little Darya was theirs. The new family was flying home to London.

  Ian … no, Evan watched her. She didn’t have to look to see that, she could feel his

  gaze. She knew the second those dark blue eyes of his landed on her. It was a static shock

  Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at him. Clean shaven, his hair cut short, the

  British persona he had taken on as Hightower, somehow made him appear a bit softer,

  more crisp instead of the sharp edged and shifting Petrolov. He even added small wire

  rimmed glasses It was he who now wore the turtle neck, a dark plum one, black Armani

  pants, loafers and the gold watch.

  Amazingly it wasn’t even the visual disguise, so much, as this aura that seemed to

  surround him. The man didn’t just look different from Dimitri Petrolov, he was different.

  The way he sat, the way his head tilted, the way he spoke.

  Glancing at him occasionally, she couldn’t help but wonder who he really was.

  Was Ian his real name or just another alias?

  To be honest, if not for the eyes, she wondered if she’d even recognize him. And

  knew she probably wouldn’t, because she’d only see the glasses.

  People saw what they wanted to see.

  The secret to a successful disguise was to tell them what they wanted to see.

  The little girl, dressed in a little navy and white pants suit with a black peacoat,

  looked the part of a newly adopted daughter.

  Clearing her throat, Rori said softly, knowing no one could hear her, “You know,

  with her dark hair and those blue eyes, little Darya could easily be Mr. Evan Hightower’s

  daughter.”

  “She is my daughter,” he said, his words, short and clipped, and undeniably

  DEADLY GAMES Jaycee Clark 76

  British. “More importantly, darling, she’s our daughter.” His eyes bore into hers.

  Rori--Lori only nodded and gently brushed a wayward curl back off Darya’s

  forehead. A black teddy bear, Mr. Hightower had bought in the gift shop on their way out

  of the hotel early that morning, was clutched to her chest. From the moment, he’d given

  her the gift, she hadn’t relaxed her hold on it.

  Her thumb was again in her mouth. She had heard the men talking that morning,

  knew the girl had not been abused and felt more for the
child than she cared to. Thank

  God.

  Rori didn’t want to feel anything for the child, yet couldn’t help it. The thought of

  what she went through, of what still lay ahead, greased old memories and nausea shot

  through her. As hard a woman as she was, she wouldn’t wish that fate on her worst

  enemy. Locked away. Men with big hands, drunken laugher and….

  She shook her head.

  Every now and then Darya craned her neck to look out the window, but then she’d

  sit back and silently stare, rubbing the teddy bear.

  Mr. Hightower spoke softly to her. She wondered what he was saying to the child

  as she didn’t understand them.

  The child didn’t answer. They knew she spoke Russian because he’d asked Darya

  if she was hungry earlier and the child looked at him and nodded.

  He’d grinned. “Ah, so it is Russian, little one.”

  And since then, he’d been telling Darya one thing or another, and the child was

  glued to him.

  Rori remembered that as well. Finally finding someone you wanted to trust, but

  were afraid to. Someone who seemed to care and you were too bloody afraid not to hold

  on to them, terrified they’d leave you behind and just as scared to get too close lest they

  turned on you.

  God she was tired. Wishing she had her laptop from the overhead luggage

  compartment, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. If nothing else, she could get

  a few minutes rest. Just a few….

  And as the hum of the engines filled her head, the rumble relaxing her, she

  dropped off into sleep.

  And into memories better left forgotten.

  She’d hidden in the closet. If she was very, very quiet, he wouldn’t find her. He

  couldn’t find her if she was quiet.

  She hurt. He’d made her do things she didn’t want to think about. Things that

  hurt, things that she knew were wrong.

  She was gangly, taller than most girls her age and wished, wished with everything

  in her that she had the courage to run away.

  But he’d told her, warned her that the coppers would get her and bring her back

  and when they did, she’d wish she were dead.

  She already wished that.

  She listened very carefully, fear trickling through her as surely as the blood from

  her nose where he’d slapped her.

  The sound of doors opening and slamming, mixed with his yells.