by Zara Chase
“What happened?” Paul asked. “Can you tell me anything before I speak with Jodie? Is she all right?”
“She’s shaken, but basically fine. As to what happened, too early to say.” He gave Paul a brief rundown on the police findings.
“Who would have given them the tip-off?” Paul asked.
“Good question.” And one that Milo had been asking himself. “All I know is, the press was onto it, but we managed to keep Jodie away from them.”
“Shit! How did they get to hear so fast?”
“You know how the grapevine works.”
A sigh echoed down the line. “Yeah, the old man had already heard, before I could tell him myself. He’s spitting tacks.”
“Didn’t try to contact his daughter, though,” Milo said before he could stop himself.
“He got right on to me, and we thought it best to wait until we heard from you.”
For we Milo read he as in Bisset Senior, would-be senator and manipulator extraordinaire.
“Presumably the American embassy didn’t get involved for the same reason.”
“Right. They’re on standby, in case Jodie needs them.”
A bit late for that. “Well, there’s not much more I can tell you right now. We’re looking into the people Jodie mixed with, see what shakes loose. Someone must know something. Someone always does. I’ll keep you informed.”
“Thanks, Milo. I owe you one.”
Milo glanced at Jodie, who was watching him intently as she listened to his end of the conversation. Paul had just confirmed their father was calling the shots from his end, confirming Jodie’s prediction that his first thought would be damage limitation. That knowledge ignited Milo’s anger, and increased his determination to look out for Jodie. Someone had to.
“Here, your sister needs a word,” was all he could trust himself to say.
Milo passed his cell phone to Jodie and gave her some privacy by taking himself off into the kitchen. He rummaged in the fridge for the ingredients for a massive fry-up. If ever a situation called for comfort food, this was it. Fuck healthy eating!
“Thanks,” Jodie said, sliding onto a stool at the counter and passing Milo his phone back. “I think I’ve stopped Paul from panicking about me.”
“Here,” he said, passing her silverware, napkins, and place mats. “Make yourself useful.”
She set out the mats on the counter, adding water glasses and condiments as Milo passed them to her. She worked efficiently, and in silence. He liked that about her. Women had a tendency to talk, just for the sake of it, but Jodie didn’t seem to care if she appeared anti-social.
“Help yourself to juice,” he said, handing her a carton.
“Thanks.” She poured them both a glass and downed half of hers in one hit. “Ah, that’s better. I was parched.”
“Want some coffee? It’s already made.”
“Thanks.”
Milo handed her a steaming mug just as the lift doors swished open and Hal appeared, carrying a heavy bag.
“Ah, breakfast. Good. I’m famished.” He smiled at Jodie. “Here’s your stuff, hon. Hope I didn’t forget anything.”
“It looks like you brought the entire contents of my wardrobe. I tend to travel light.”
“Yeah, I noticed that.”
“Any unwelcome guests been to Jodie’s apartment?” Milo asked, turning around from the stove where he was frying bacon.
“No, nothing I could find.”
That was good enough for Milo. If there was something to find, Hal would have found it.
“It’ll be a few minutes yet,” Milo said. “Show Jodie her room, Hal, and give her a moment to stash her stuff.”
“Yes, boss.” Hal saluted Milo, smiled at Jodie, and took her hand. “This way, ma’am,” he said.
* * * *
Jodie was woken by sunshine bathing her face. She stretched, enjoying the feel of the crisp cotton sheets that cocooned her, unable at first to remember where she was. Certainly not in her own crappy apartment, that was for sure. She didn’t run to Egyptian cotton. Besides, the windows at her place were too small to let in so much sunshine.
It came back to her in a heated rush, spoiling her soporific state when she recalled the shock and absolute horror of being arrested. The humiliation of being treated like a criminal—worse, a criminal suspected of working against the interests of the West—burned through her like acid. She leaned up on one elbow and shook her head. How had this happened to her? Damn it, she’d never had so much as a speeding ticket in her entire life, and now this.
Feeling sorry for herself would do no good. All that mattered was clearing her name—for her own sake, rather than that of her family. What mattered almost as much was getting Milo to believe in her innocence. She had thought his intransigent stance was thawing after they left the police station, and later when he spoke up for her to her brother.
It seemed she was mistaken. He had cooked the three of them an enormous brunch—doing it with the same efficiency and attention to detail she suspected he devoted to everything he did. Hal kept the conversation rolling while they ate, but Milo didn’t address a single word directly to her. She caught him looking at her intently on several occasions, frowning as though he couldn’t quite decide what to make of her, but it was obvious he somehow blamed her for the position she had found herself in.
Well, Mr. Perfect, I’ll just have to find a way to show you you’re wrong about that. She was as stubborn as her father was when it came to getting what she wanted—but, thank God, nowhere near so selfish and self-centered. Still, at least some of her dad’s implacability had rubbed off on her. She was now on a mission to prove herself to the man she hadn’t been able to stop fantasizing about for more than ten years.
There was a huge bathroom that went with the guys’ guest room. Once she had eaten, Jodie stood in the shower for a long time, washing the smell of jail desperation off her skin and hair. Then she’d fallen into bed, her hair still wet, and slept soundly for…for how long? She glanced at the bedside clock and gasped. It was six in the evening. She’d slept for five hours straight.
She slid out of bed, used the facilities, then glanced in the mirror and expelled a second gasp. She really should have dried her hair before sleeping. Unsurprisingly, it now resembled a haystack. With a wry sigh, she dragged a brush through it, pulling the wild curls back from her face and securing them in place with a clip she found in her purse. She blushed as she rummaged for underwear in the drawer where she’d placed it, strangely excited to think that Hal’s hands had touched it as he packed it all for her. Shame he wasn’t in the room to help her into it—although she suspected he and Milo would both be more efficient at removing a woman’s lingerie.
Get a grip, girl. She really should not be lusting after her temporary hosts, especially since one of them obviously didn’t like her very much. Besides, Jodie was very selective when it came to men. She didn’t often get the hots for a guy—now she appeared to be fantasizing about two at once. She’d had a girlfriend at college who was into that scene in a big way, and described in graphic detail what she and her Master got up to. It had both shocked and excited Jodie to hear all the salacious details of beatings, punishments, bondage, and the most excruciating-sounding implements of torture her friend embraced. She wondered what it would be like to use pain as a means of achieving gratification, but couldn’t imagine ever being in a position to find out.
Jodie chose a pretty girly-pink bra and matching panties, for no other reason than they made her feel feminine. After her ordeal of earlier, she badly needed a shot of confidence. She pulled on a pair of loose pants and a sleeveless top, and thrust her feet into low-heeled mules.
“Okay,” she said to her reflection, deciding that facial cosmetics would make it seem as though she was trying to make an impression. “Let the fight back begin.”
Her room was at the end of a corridor that led off from the main area in the loft. There were closed doors on either side of it—pre
sumably the guys’ rooms—and an open archway to a large office with two workstations. She found both men in there, heads bent over computers.
“Ah, there is life after death.” Hal grinned as his gaze slid slowly down the length of her. “Feeling better? You sure as hell look it.”
“Much. Sorry I slept for so long. I didn’t think I’d be able to, what with all the stuff churning away inside my head, but it seems I was wrong.”
“No problem.” Milo glanced up at her, but didn’t show any reaction to her improved appearance. “You clearly needed it. Come on, we’ll be more comfortable in the other room.”
Both men, she noticed, closed their browsers and shut down their computers before leaving their desks. Presumably they didn’t want her to see what they had been doing. Like she would look!
“It’s a nice evening,” Hal said, opening the doors to a large terrace that overlooked the river. “Let’s sit out here and have a glass of wine.”
He left again, presumably in search of said wine, and Jodie was alone with Milo. Without Hal to break the silence, Jodie felt the same brittle tension spring up between them again, but couldn’t think of a single thing to say to relieve it. Milo wasn’t looking at her so she took the opportunity to check him out. He’d changed out of his fancy clothes, into jeans that hugged his ass and a plain T-shirt. With his hair falling across his forehead, he looked just as good as he had in his bespoke suit—good enough to devour whole. Her entire body ached—not just for him, but for his approval. Why it should matter to her so much, she couldn’t have said. It was just the way it was.
Jodie felt honey trickling from her cunt as she continued to observe him, and wondered why life was so damned unfair. She had no shortage of offers from guys who wanted to get to know her better. None of them rocked her world. Instead she was fixated on a guy who not only disliked her, but disapproved of everything she stood for.
“Take a seat,” Milo said, indicating one of the overstuffed sofas. The bastard looked faintly amused, presumably because he’d been watching her fighting against the impulse to rip his clothes off and lick every inch of his body. She tossed her head and dutifully sat, deciding that if the arrogant jerk ever did put a move on her, she’d tell him to take a hike. Yeah, like that’s gonna happen!
Milo sat across from her and arranged his long, muscular legs casually in front of him, crossing them at the ankles and leaning his elbow on the arm of the sofa. A deeply disturbing jolt rocked her as he focused intelligent gray eyes on her face, as though he could see directly into her soul. Unable to stand the unnerving stillness for a second longer, she finally spoke.
“Did you manage to get some rest, too?” she asked.
His brows shot up. “Excuse me?”
“You said in the police station that you’d only had two hours’ sleep. You look rested, so I assumed—”
“Don’t worry about it. Hal and I are used to getting by without much sleep.”
“Through your military training?”
“Yeah, you could say.”
But saying anything didn’t appear to figure high on his agenda, and once again they submerged into a simmering silence. Well, that was it. She’d tried. If he wanted to just sit there, sending her probing, disapproving glances, then he could knock himself out. She could take it.
She absolutely could.
She focused her gaze on the river, watching the activity. There always appeared to be something going on. Craft of all shapes and sizes drifted past, loud party music floating up from some of them. How nice it must be, Jodie thought, to have nothing more taxing on one’s mind than having a good time. When was the last time she had been in that position? She really couldn’t remember.
Hal joined them, clutching an open bottle, and the loaded tension evaporated.
“White wine okay with you, babe?” he asked.
“Sure, thanks.”
She would have been surprised if they’d opted for white wine, too. It wasn’t a very masculine drink, and one thing she could say about these two with absolute certainty was they were one hundred percent thoroughbred, pure virile male. Sure enough, Hal reached into a cooler, flipped the tops off two bottles of beer, and handed one to Milo.
“Thanks, mate,” he said.
“What happens now?” Jodie asked after they had sat in silence for what seemed like forever, sipping their drinks, Milo still avoiding eye contact with her.
“About your situation?” Milo asked.
“Of course. I can’t stay here indefinitely, so we need to figure out what’s going on.”
“You can stay as long as you like, darling,” Hal said, blowing her a kiss.
Jodie laughed in spite of herself. “I’d only cramp your style.”
“We’ve been doing some work on your case this afternoon,” Milo said. “We’ve amassed quite a bit of information about your Camden Town pals.”
“Oh really.” He clearly didn’t like what he’d found, but his scathing tone irritated Jodie. “Do share.”
“Did you know that your friend Jeff has a criminal record?”
Jodie put her glass aside and sat bolt upright. “No. What for?”
“Breaking and entering, criminal damage—”
“Jeff is a thief?” She shook her head. “I don’t believe it.”
“He didn’t steal anything,” Hal said. “He broke into a lab where they keep animals for medical experiments and tried to release them.”
“Ah, that’s different.”
She expected Milo to make a derisive comment. He didn’t. “I like animals, too,” he surprised her by saying. “But I’m not sure that’s the right way to go about saving them from all that shit.”
Jodie was affronted by his superior tone. “Oh, and I suppose you know a better way.”
She didn’t realize she’d thrust her chest out until she noticed that both of them had fixed steady gazes on her tits. She blushed, annoyed with herself because a tiny part of her was pleased to have gotten their attention, albeit by use of underhand tactics. “Sometimes the direct approach is the only way,” she said, picking up her glass and taking another long swig.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Hal said, his gaze still glued to her chest.
“How did you find that out about Jeff, anyway?” she asked. “Police records aren’t in the public domain in this country.”
“We have our ways.”
Milo stretched both arms above his head and yawned. His shirt rode up, giving Jodie an up-close view of a toned midriff covered with a light dusting of dark, curling chest hair. It ran in a line down the center of his belly and disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. What she would give to trace it to its source—with her tongue.
“We hack into the criminal records computer,” Hal said, laughing.
Her eyes flew wide. “You don’t!”
Hal shrugged. “How else are we supposed to know what’s going on?”
“What if you get caught?”
“We won’t,” Milo said.
She recalled them both hitting various keys before they shut down their computers. Well, far be it from her to tell them how to behave. They were clearly very bad boys who played by their own rules. Jodie moistened her lips. Now why did she find that prospect so appealing?
“We also found out that your friends Phil and Betty spent six months in a remote part of Pakistan a few years ago,” Milo told her. “The part of Pakistan that has training camps for a certain terrorist organization that shall remain nameless.”
“I knew they’d been there,” Jodie replied pensively. “They don’t make any secret out of it. They were on retreat.”
Milo curled his upper lip. “Sure they were.”
“Are you always so cynical?” she asked.
Milo shrugged impossibly broad shoulders. “In my line of work I don’t come across too many situations where cynicism doesn’t fit the bill.”
“He saves the sarcasm for people,” Hal said, grinning.
Jodie treated Mil
o to a withering glance, to which he showed no reaction. Infuriated, she addressed her next comment to Hal. “Accounting for his vast and continuing popularity, no doubt,” she said.
“Just so that you know,” Milo said. “I don’t give a flying fuck what people think of me. I am what I am. Get over it.”
“Yes, I got that part.”
“Children, children!” Hal waved a placating hand between them. Only then did Jodie realize that she and Milo were leaning toward one another, mere inches separating their faces. How had that happened? “Play nice or you’re both in detention.”
Milo leaned back in his chair, and took a long slug from his beer, saying nothing.
“Sorry,” Jodie said, recalling she was a guest in their home. Besides, one of them needed to act like a grownup. “I guess I’m still on edge.”
“Well, anyway, about your friends. It explains why they were on the police radar,” Hal said.
“I suppose so. I don’t think they were aware of it, though.”
“It also explains why the Camden Town house was under surveillance,” Hal continued. “No one goes to Pakistan to find themselves.”
Jodie opened her mouth to argue, then shut it again. He was probably right.
“I’ve been thinking about this whole business of us being arrested,” Jodie said. “It’s a bit convenient, don’t you think, the police finding plans for a firebombing lying about in plain sight.” She noticed the two guys share a glance, but neither one of them interrupted her. “Surely something that sensitive wouldn’t be committed to paper at all.”
“The same thought had occurred to us,” Milo admitted. “The way the police told it, the papers were on the coffee table in the lounge when the raid went down, as though you’d been discussing it.”
Jodie shook her head. “I already explained, that house is always full of people coming and going. Anyone could have left the papers there days ago and no one would be any the wiser. Keeping house isn’t high on their agenda.”
Milo fixed her with a penetrating gaze. “So your fingerprints won’t be found on them?”