by Michele Hauf
“We're not going to make it to the bedroom, are we?” she asked, but he knew the question was rhetorical.
Xavier lifted her with ease. She bent her knees against the wall. And he slipped inside her from behind. Completely supported by his cock and hands, she crouched there—a thief's talent—and let him take her furiously, thrusting until he felt sure he'd explode. And when he did, he caught his hands against the wall beside hers, and his body pulsed as he released within her. He let out his breath in a slow, loud groan.
She'd mentioned something about being on birth control pills earlier while on the couch. He liked having one less detail to consider.
Josephine pushed off, and his back hit the opposite wall. She laughed as he slipped out of her, but she remained with her back to his chest, her feet supporting her and pinning him to the wall.
“Is this some new sex move you're trying to teach me?” he asked.
“Maybe I'm practicing my wall-scaling skills?”
“Mm, Seph, take me with you.”
She dropped her feet and turned to hug up against him. His cock was only semi-erect now, but the press of her trimmed pubic hairs against it tickled and gave him one more jolt of orgasm.
“Christ, yes.”
“Thieves work best alone.” She glided a finger up his chest, tripping over his hard nipple and then up higher to the bottom of his chin.
“Except when it comes to sex.” He picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. “Time for round two,” he announced, and tossed her onto the bed.
“I think it's round three or four now.” Sitting up, she spread her legs wide and patted the space between them. “Come on, X. Want some more?”
Xavier knelt on the floor and gripped her ankles. With a tug, he pulled her to the edge of the bed. Hooking her legs over his shoulders, he kissed her lush, wet folds and tickled her with his tongue. Time to show her why this thief was a master at attention to detail.
Chapter 19
An hour later, Xavier called a time out and wandered into the kitchen. Afternoon sunlight beamed through the front window where he'd initially spied Chloe. The kitchen, toward the back of the apartment, was muted in cool shadows. He grabbed two bottles of water and returned to the bedroom. Josephine lay on the bed, stomach down, knees bent and toes toddling the air. A breeze from the open window ruffled the sheer white curtain close to her face and blew fine hair across her cheek.
He handed her a water bottle and lay on his stomach beside her, elbows propping him up.
“Ready for round six?” she asked.
“Let's talk.”
She glared at him, then frowned and twisted off the cap of her water bottle. “You gotta get a new line, you know that?”
He shrugged.
“Right. Talk. Because you just used sex to soften me up.”
“Really? You required that much softening?”
She swallowed a gulp of water, smiling behind the plastic rim.
“Seph,” he said, “I had sex with you because I wanted to feel your body against mine and put myself inside you and taste more than just your kisses. I thought we were in agreement on that?”
“We were. We are. But you are still working for someone I'm pretty sure I'd consider the enemy.”
“You have enemies?” He rolled to his side and propped a hand against his cheek. “How can someone who has left the trade still have enemies?”
Screwing the cap onto the bottle and setting it on the floor, she shook her head. “You know damn well we mark our enemies for the rest of our lives.”
“Case in point. Lincoln Blackwell?”
“So we're really going to do this now? Naked?”
He nodded. “We can't hide behind clothes or pretense. All up front.”
“Fine.” She sat up and leaned against a pillow, slyly parting her legs and letting them fall open so he had a great view of all of her. And, yes, his cock stood up at attention. “God, your penis is remarkable.”
He shrugged again.
“Now you’re trying to distract me. So! Who are you working for, and why are you so concerned about me?”
“I wouldn't call this—what we just did—‘concern.’ I'd call it ‘infatuation.’ ‘Lust.’” He moved up between her legs, kissed her clit—slowly, and with tongue—then rested his head on her thigh. “Desire and passion.”
Josephine sighed. “Agreed.”
“But as far as my job? There’s the situation with the missing diamond.”
“What missing diamond?”
That had either been excellent acting, or her sudden and surprised response had been genuine. She didn't know about the missing diamond. Which went a long way in assuaging the guilt Xavier felt at having fucked the suspect.
Perhaps she wasn't a suspect.
“One of the stones from the necklace was missing. The first on the left side. A five-carat stone with so many flaws you could store quantum data on the thing.”
“And you consider me a suspect?”
“The suspect list is short. You're on it.”
“Are you on that list as well? You did take the necklace from me—when I was unconscious following a car wreck, I might add—and as far as I know, you could still have it.”
“I was on the list, but I’ve been cleared. My home and the safe house were searched.”
“By your employer?”
“Yes. So that leaves you and Lincoln Blackwell.”
She sat up straighter, bending her knees and crossing her legs. “Fair enough. I don't have it. Don't need something so small and worth—what?—a few grand? If flawed, much less. I have enough cash to see me through a long and happy life.”
“I assumed as much. That leaves Blackwell.”
Josephine shook her head. “I can't believe we didn't notice a missing stone. Seriously?”
“The entire setting was removed from the ribbon, leaving only minute holes in the fabric as a sign that something was missing. We were busy eluding the security guard. And I didn't take the time to look it over before turning it in. Just wanted that damned thing off my plate after all it took to get it.”
She nudged his cock with a toe, teasing it gently up and down. “’All it took’ did include meeting me.”
“Which I'm still not certain was a good thing.” Her glare was expected. “Sex not included. But you've put me through the wringer, Seph.”
“Happy to take credit for keeping an old thief on his game.”
“Digs at my not-so-old age aside, if Lincoln Blackwell does have the stone, that leads me to suspect he never wanted the whole necklace in the first place. Because why simply take out one stone? The man had to have known exactly what he wanted. What is on that stone that makes it so valuable to him?”
“I thought you said it was a recipe for a biological weapon?”
“It is. And all the ingredients have been accounted for on the remaining stones, including a location for the hit. It’s impossible to infer what was etched on the missing stone. I was able to photograph the girdle at the ball, but it was the one image that was unreadable. Kierce is trying to work his magic on it.”
“Sorting pixels and bytes?”
“Yes. He can work wonders.” Sliding a hand across her stomach to curl about her hip, he met her gaze with searching eyes. “Tell me true, Seph. Are you and Blackwell working together?”
“No.”
A quick response. Not a moment of hesitation. And she didn’t nod after she'd spoken, a common tell for a lie.
“Why do you care?” She leaned forward, putting their faces a foot apart. “You're an international jewel thief. The infamous Fox. You take for yourself, give some to charity, on with the next job.”
“How do you know about my charitable contributions?”
“As I've said, I've followed your career.”
“You would have had to take particular steps to learn how I've distributed my funds over the years.”
“I'm a particular woman.”
“That you are.” And more frustrating by the moment.
She'd tracked him over the years? Indeed, that would require she have intimate knowledge of his financial transactions. Or at the very least, a connection to Rutger Horst, his accountant. The man had many clients, all of them walking the wrong side of the law, but Xavier trusted Horst implicitly. He kept his finances distributed in half a dozen countries and donated seventy-five percent of all profits to charity on behalf of an anonymous benefactor. Horst guaranteed a clean ledger and no contact with any banks.
Horst was the only one who handled Xavier's money and the only one who knew where it ultimately landed. He'd kept in touch with him during his incarceration, and even now their contact was occasional but discreet. Though he no longer had new income to add to his accounts, he still required a money manager.
Did he have a reason to question that trust? Could Horst have been the one behind Xavier's arrest and ultimate incarceration?
Dimitri Rostonovich, a trusted fence, had ratted out Josephine. Of course, Rutger Horst could not be trusted. Trust no one. Especially in his line of work. Not even an alluring woman who had just rocked his world, and with whom he very much wanted to get back to said rocking.
Christ, what was happening? How had he missed one extremely sexy woman trailing him? For years?
That kiss. The kiss she'd accused him of forgetting. Did that hold the key to their connection?
“What's going on in that brain right now?” She nudged his knee with her leg, prompting him to move and sit up alongside her. He propped his head on the wall next to hers. “If you're trying to figure me out, stop.”
“Isn't turn-around fair play?” he asked. “You've apparently figured me out.”
“Never. I have no clue who you are working for. I suspect it's some kind of black-ops organization. Is it the police? Interpol? CIA? Russian mafia?”
Xavier chuckled. The movement set his hard-on bobbling, so he pulled a pillow over his lap. “I’m not allowed to detail my connections, but I can tell you we—those who work for the organization—call ourselves the Last Chance Ops. Sort of a private joke between the inmates.”
“Last chance?”
“We've been given one last chance at freedom by agreeing to work for the organization for a minimal fee and offering our unique expertise on white-collar crime.”
“Or?”
“Or…it's the tombstone. Thus, the last chance.”
“Has to be the law. No one else could get a convicted felon out of prison. Maybe.”
“Money can serve a man anything he desires. Even access to the seemingly inaccessible.”
“True. So someone is basically blackmailing you to do their dirty work.”
“I wouldn't call trying to stop a biological weapon from taking out the entire 8th arrondissement of Paris dirty work.”
“So you're doing good now? Using your skills to save the innocent and defeat the bad guys? Sounds like a twisted superhero plot.”
“I'm no one's hero. And I much preferred giving most of my take to charity. Do the math on how many charitable dollars were removed from the system when I was incarcerated. Anyway, this interacting with the public and having a boss is…trying. But I prefer the challenge to cell bars and lye soap.”
“Who would have thought The Fox would be reduced to such demeaning work.”
He gripped her jaw tightly, feeling his anger for a moment before softening his touch as he turned her to face him. “I am proud of the work I'm doing now. And I will find that diamond, with or without you.”
“You can do it without me.”
She was so quick to dismiss anything that might prove a challenge. He didn't like that about her, and yet, he could understand the innate need to protect oneself, especially when none of the players could ever be trusted. “I'd rather do it with you, Seph.”
“Calling me some stupid pet name is not going to sway me.”
“You know Blackwell.”
“Yeah, but no one is paying me minimum wage to provide my expertise. And I don't need the feel-good pride either. I've got enough to worry about trying to go underground. Again. Blackwell found me after two years, of which, I thought I was free and clear from my past. I'm not going to be so stupid this time around.”
“You shouldn't work with Dmitri Rostonovich.”
“The fence was the one who ratted me, wasn’t he? I thought it was him. Thanks for verifying that.”
He shrugged. Would he have ever offered a competitor such information before his prison stint? No. The woman had…altered something in him. And it wasn't because of the sex, which had been great. Mind-blowing? Yes, positively. And he didn't know any more about her than he had that night she'd kissed him at the ball. But something felt different within him when he was around Josephine. And it was a hard thing to deal with, because he didn't want to begin to label it.
“So. You've gotten what you wanted from me.” She trailed a finger down her breast and circled the hard nipple. “Now leave. Or I'll start thinking you've fucked me to implicate me.”
“I would never do such a thing. I wanted to have sex with you, Seph. Business and pleasure are completely separate with us. And I'd like to do it again. The sex part. Hell, I'd like to sit here and talk a while, get to know you.”
“How does that figure in with your job? You might think you're just here for a good time, but I know no one who works for a secret organization operates without ulterior motives. Sometimes those motives aren't even apparent until you get right down to it. And then it's too late.”
Chloe jumped onto the bed and padded over the rumpled sheets to nudge against her mistress's shoulder. Xavier patted the cat's head, mining his empathy for what to say to not lose the girl. She was right. He had complicated matters with sex. But he'd truly believed he could keep business and pleasure separate.
Idiot. His job was to recruit Josephine Devereaux. Voluntarily. And he couldn't deny some forethought had gone into this seduction. He'd thought if they grew closer, she might be eager to join the Last Chance Ops. A stupid move if he had any chance of a relationship with her. And that he'd even thought that word—relationship—was proof his veneer was cracking.
Could he deal with her hating him once she had been recruited? Because she would.
He was not developing feelings for the woman. That was a fool move. He needed her to find the diamond and he needed her for the Elite Crimes Unit. And neither one of those needs required them to be in a relationship. Doctor Walters would have a heyday with this development.
The shrink would never find out about this afternoon liaison. Xavier couldn't let that happen.
“You're right.” He tossed aside the pillow and looked around for his clothes. Out in the living room. Fine. So he couldn't occupy his hands with a shirt and pants while he laid it on thick. He stood before Josephine, naked, vulnerable…but never conquered. “This was probably wrong.” Yet, he'd never convince himself of that. Still, he was an excellent actor. “I need you to help me find the diamond. I should have stuck to business.”
The cat crawled onto Seph's stomach, finding a resting place with its paws upon her breasts, which prompted sudden jealousy in Xavier. Josephine smiled up at him, obviously sensing his struggling emotions.
“Should we forget this happened?” he asked.
“X. X,” she drawled in false sweetness. “Do you want to forget it happened?”
He winced and turned to face the blowsy curtains. Hell no, he'd never forget. And if he did convince her to work with him, he'd spend every moment remembering the feel of her skin under his tongue or her heat caressing his steel-hard cock.
“If it'll be the thing to get you to consider working with me?” He nodded. “All's forgotten. I'm going to get dressed.”
He strode out swiftly, knowing she had won that one.
And she knew it, too.
Chapter 20
“I
need an assessment for Lincoln Blackwell,” Xavier told Josephine.
The moon sat full and high in the sky. Xavier had not left her apartment, and Josephine was not going to offer to make him something to eat, even though they'd not eaten since breakfast and she was hungry. After he'd revealed what he wanted from her, and that he could forget about the sex, he'd taken a shower and had calmly gotten dressed. The gray designer suit wasn't even wrinkled, and he looked like a million bucks.
Make that the Dresden Green Diamond, a forty-one-carat natural green diamond currently displayed alongside the Hope Diamond. How those Dresden green eyes did glint.
And she realized he was sitting approximately as far from her now as he had been that first night she had seen him from behind the sofa in her mother's office. Lying on the floor, a book in hand, she had often tucked away in the office, away from the yelling and constant arguments, and lost herself in worlds written on pages. Until the night the thief had slipped through an open window with the prowess of…a fox.
Josephine had watched him crack the safe with an ease that had made her a fan girl from that moment on.
But even fan girls could harbor wishes for vengeance.
“Do you think I'm working for you now?” On the sofa, she crossed her legs and put her hands behind her head. She'd slipped into black leggings and a fresh white t-shirt. The urge to dress sexy for him was still there. She hadn't agreed to forget about the sex. And she didn't wear a bra. Her nipples peaked under the thin shirt, and his eyes strayed there. Often.
“What's it going to take?” he asked.
“I'm not sure you can offer me anything of value. As I've said, financially, I'm sound. And I'm not in the market for a gigolo or a lover.”
“Everyone needs a lover.”
“You seriously want me to accept sex as payment for my expertise on Lincoln Blackwell?”
“No. I want you to have sex with me because you desire me and because you desire the pleasure I can give you.”
“But you've said that was all forgotten. So sex, apparently, is off the table.”
At least, that's what she had to say to meet him at his own game. She would never brush that one from the table like crumbs from breakfast toast.