by Debra Webb
As if he’d read her mind, they both started to run their fingers over the edges of the ornate frame. Stark tugged. It didn’t budge.
But… “Do that again.” When he gave her a questioning look, she said, “Try to move it again.”
He curled his fingers around the frame and tugged. In the mirror their images shimmered the tiniest bit, then stilled.
Casey reached out and touched the reflective glass. It didn’t move. She pressed a little harder…and it moved. Oh yeah. Adrenaline wired her senses. This was it.
As the glass swung inward, she stepped over the frame onto a rock floor. A similar rock wall faced her. She reached out and touched it. Solid. Cold. She moved closer and discovered that it wasn’t just a hiding place or dead end. Anticipation screamed through her veins. This had to be how Alayna moved to and from the club. A narrow opening to the left led into a passageway. It was dark as pitch and tight, if the opening was any indication. “There’s a passageway here. I can’t see where it goes. Too dark.”
Stark joined her in the cramped space. He reached beneath his jacket and withdrew his weapon. “I’ll go first this time. I’ll check it out and see if I can find a light before we stumble into trouble.”
Fine by Casey. “Too bad neither of us smokes.” They needed a light.
The passageway was black. Like the hole they’d fallen into last night. The light from the dressing room valiantly attempted to turn the corner into the passageway but fell short.
“Let’s have a look.” Stark moved past her and through the narrow opening. Over his shoulder he said, “Wait until I assess the lighting situation before following me.” There was a brief hesitation and then, “Check the mirror for smudges where we opened it. Make sure it’s closed.”
She didn’t bother letting him know that she’d already planned to do that. In case he’d forgotten, she had twice as much experience at this as he did. Grabbing a tissue from the dressing table, she cleaned the smudge from her fingertips off the glass. Once she’d closed it, leaving her in absolute darkness, she waited, the seconds ticking off like bombs in her head while Stark traced the rock wall with his fingers as if it were Braille.
A faint glow peeked around the corner.
Instinctively, she leaned toward it.
“And there we go,” Stark announced.
More of that anticipation ignited inside her as she joined Stark around that corner.
The passage was narrow and only extended a few feet before spiraling downward in an even narrower staircase. “If this is how she moves back and forth from her home, it gives new meaning to the term harrowing work commute.”
Stark smiled and she had difficulty dragging in the next breath. He had a powerful smile and really nice teeth, too. The guy could do toothpaste commercials and sell lots of the product.
“Stay close,” he suggested, taking the first step down. “There’s no light switch. The lights are apparently motion sensitive. But if it goes black again, better to be close.”
She followed close for fourteen steps. Then they hit another long, narrow corridor. She couldn’t hear the music anymore. Instead she detected more of a roar befitting the cavelike, musty-smelling setting. The occasional small dome-style light kept the darkness chased away enough to watch one’s step.
Two more minutes of moving forward and nothing changed. It would be really nice if she could get her bearings. Were they moving east? West? Casey couldn’t say.
Something solid stopped her. Stark. Before she could complain she got distracted by him trailing his fingertips over the rock wall. “What’re you doing?”
“It’s wet here. Really wet.”
She peered at the wall, stepped close enough to touch it. He was right. Dripping wet almost.
“The water.” His gaze settled on hers. “This is taking us to the beach.”
That was it. “The hotel.”
Stark nodded. “Maybe so.”
They moved faster, an unspoken but mutual sense of urgency propelling them both. Any details they could discover might be useful. Keaton hadn’t remained anonymous without the aid of those who knew and cared about him.
The sound of crashing waves and the smell of salty air greeted them as they reached the end of the narrow passage. But the exit wasn’t straightforward by any means. A mini maze of twists and turns, each more narrow than the last, provided escape to the silky white sand.
Moving prudently just in case there was a security patrol in the vicinity of the secret passage, they headed for the stretch of beach directly behind the hotel.
“Wait.” Casey stopped and removed her shoes. Stilettos and sand didn’t mix. When she straightened Stark was staring at her the same way he had when she’d first dressed for the evening. “You really like the dress, huh?” She smirked, couldn’t help herself.
“I’m reasonably certain all who’ve seen you tonight have liked that dress.”
“In that case,” she said as she plodded toward the hotel, “I chose wisely.”
“You’re thinking that perhaps Alayna is a permanent resident of the hotel.”
Apparently he’d moved on from the subject of her dress in a hurry. “Perhaps,” she replied. It seemed a reasonable deduction. “Could just be a private access to the beach.” Who wouldn’t enjoy a private path to a scene so tranquil? The sea air smelled salty and sweet at the same time, but it was cold just now. She shivered. Something else that reminded her of home. The warm days and cool nights, the contrasting aromas of nature’s most powerful resource and man’s irreverent ambition to pillage. Another little quake trembled through her. She missed home sometimes. A visit would be in order soon.
Warm silk settled on her shoulders and hugged her body. Her breath caught more from the scent of Stark suddenly cloaking her in his jacket than his chivalrous move.
“I thought you might be cold.”
“Thanks.” She blocked the unwelcome sensation of inner warmth that awakened deep inside her. This was a mission. He was her sort-of partner—more a pawn in her strategy. She wasn’t supposed to be impressed by him or his actions. Guilt pinged her.
Just stop, Casey. You don’t know this man. He’s the competition, not a friend or…whatever.
“Isn’t our suite on the top floor?”
Casey snapped to attention, glad to put the disturbing thoughts aside. “There are two presidential suites on the sixth floor.” Then she saw what had made him question the floor plan of their hotel.
It wasn’t quite a full balcony like the one extending the living space of their suite or the one alongside it. The small half-moon shaped protrusion above their balcony appeared more like an architectural feature. Yet, there was a window or door. Something she couldn’t quite make out that could very well provide access to another floor. A floor that didn’t exist in the hotel’s brochures or have a button in the public elevators.
“There has to be a private elevator.”
“If there’s a room up there, that would be my guess,” he agreed. “Even if we’re right, that doesn’t mean the room is hers.”
“We can’t be sure of anything.” They were speculating. That was half the game when gathering intelligence. If you didn’t know, you fleshed out possible scenarios until you hit the right one.
“Could be for VIPs.”
“Could be.”
“Depending on how the meet goes,” he offered, “it’s certainly a lead we might want to follow.”
“Certainly.” Casey checked the time on her cell. “We should head back.”
The walk across the white sand beneath the moonlight was quiet and strangely calming. The party crowd apparently preferred the dazzling lights and music along the streets to the soothing roar of the sea and the quiet glow of the moon and stars on the sand. Or maybe those who preferred the latter were making their own kind of quiet music in the shadows. The thought made her yearn for that kind of sweet escape.
Casey rarely experienced calm during a mission. And the only kind of escapes she gene
rally took were from the bad guys. This sudden yearning was categorically out of character for her. She stole a glimpse at Stark. She banished the idea that he made her feel this way. The yearning had nothing to do with him. It was the place, she supposed. And the relief of being back in the field, even if while on vacation, after months of being in a cramped, artificially lit office.
“You have sisters and brothers back in L.A.?” The deep resonance of his voice washed over her, layering more of the serene insulation somehow generated by this place and this night.
“No. I’m an only.” It annoyed the heck out of Casey that the word lonely echoed in her skull. She wasn’t lonely, she was busy. She had no time for complications.
“Me, too.” He chuckled. “My mother reminds me regularly that I’m all she has.”
“No father?” Casey resisted the impulse to bite her tongue. She didn’t want to encourage his questioning.
“He died six years ago.”
His father’s death still made him feel sad. She knew because the pain echoed in his words. She would not ask anything else about his family. No. No. No. Except… “Your mother never remarried?” Good grief! What was she doing?
“She swears she never will.” He released a big breath that drew her attention straight to his mouth. “I wish she would. I’d feel better. But she says when you love someone like that, there’s no such thing as an encore.”
Wow. His mom sounded like Lucas. “You think she’s lonely?” Seriously, she wasn’t saying anything else. Not another word.
“How could she not be?” Stark looked at her as if she should be smart enough to know without asking. “She’s fifty-five. Her companion of twenty-seven years is gone. That’s gotta be tough.”
Don’t say anything, she told herself.
They were almost to the street. The noise would preclude the need for conversation then. Prepping for the meet should be her focus.
“You ever been married or engaged?”
Where was he going with that question? “No.” You? banged at her skull. She would not ask! They’d had a similar conversation already.
“Me either.” He slid his hands into his pockets. “Too busy, I think.”
Forty yards to safety. She had to keep slogging toward the street and the insulating noise of the crowd.
“Most of my cousins are married. House and kids to boot.” He laughed softly. “My mother calls whenever someone announces their engagement. I can actually hear the wistfulness in her voice when she tells me.”
Dear God. They had the same mom. Like hers, his mom should butt out. Casey knew from experience that wasn’t going to happen. She’d been telling her mom to do exactly that for years.
“She’s convinced I changed careers to avoid commitment.”
“Did you?” Casey’s eyes widened. She didn’t just ask that! If asking the question wasn’t perverse enough, she stared at him in anticipation of his answer.
“I was bored.” He glanced at her, caught her staring, making her even angrier with herself. “I needed to be more involved with people. To help ensure the right thing happened more often.”
Like not dropping a stranger into a bottomless pit and saving himself. Or insisting she wear his jacket when his thin shirt wasn’t much more protection than her dress. “Bored is the excuse adrenaline junkies use for running into burning buildings and going into hostage situations.” She felt him looking at her so she met his gaze. “Making sure the right thing happens is just another way of saying you like to win. Am I right?”
He stopped. Held her gaze for long enough to make her wish she had kept her mouth shut. “Is that your model for doing what you do, Casey? Like the risk you took back there on that deserted stretch of road? Or all the little things—like that dress—that you do to keep me off balance? Winning is all that matters to you, isn’t it?” He shook his head. “If that’s true, I feel sorry for you.”
Casey was almost twenty-nine, and only once in her entire life had anyone ever said anything to her that actually got to her. Until tonight. Irritation immediately replaced the other foolishness. “If you don’t win, what’s the point?”
Walk away.
She put one foot in front of the other. When people got all emotional that was the best way to handle it. Just walk away. Nothing that got said would be right or would really change the other person’s stand on the matter.
Motorized traffic had obviously been diverted since the street between the hotel and the club was filled with pedestrians as if they had decided to bring the celebration to the streets and no one minded. It was well past midnight and the party was still wild and loud inside the club. When they stepped in, she could see Alayna and her dancers swaying and grinding on the stage in an erotic performance that had couples unabashedly devouring each other on the dance floor.
Cloying, perfumed sweat comingled with the essence of liquor, creating a sensual fragrance that ignited the senses. The perfect combination of visual and auditory ambience bound the carnal spell so completely that Casey wondered how it could possibly be broken without inspiring a riot.
Alayna had created a masterpiece of enthralling entertainment. Casey watched her lean body move to the notes. Every move, every step was choreographed in mesmerizing rhythm. She would be a challenging mark.
Casey would need Stark to distract her…if she was distractible.
HE DIDN’T LIKE CASEY very much right now. Her responses were contradictory to his protected view of people and life. She had to do something to alleviate that disillusionment or risk losing his cooperation.
At the bar he ordered a sparkling water and turned to Casey to see if she wanted a drink. She swept his jacket from her shoulders, dropped it on the counter and moved in close to him. “Dance with me, Stark.”
He didn’t immediately say no but he stared at her as if he were contemplating going in that direction.
She took his hand in hers and pulled him close. “We need to look like a couple if we’re going to pull this off. You wouldn’t be a movie producer if you weren’t taking advantage of your young, naive assistant.”
Reluctance in his movements, he allowed her to guide him deep into the throng of couples lost to their own stimulating interludes. Before she could put her arms around him, he pulled her close, pressed her intimately to his body and started to move.
The rush of heat and a frightening burst of desire stole her breath, made her tremble. As if he sensed that weakness, he held her tighter, leaned in closer until she couldn’t breathe without inhaling the scent of him. Her cheek brushed the roughness of his unshaven jaw, spawning a desperate ache between her thighs.
Casey closed her eyes and fought the dizzying sensations. A few more minutes and they would be in position to start the next phase of this mission. She could deal with these unexpected feelings Stark evoked for a few minutes more.
It didn’t matter anyway.
This wasn’t real.
He couldn’t be real.
Chapter Twelve
October 13, 1:08 a.m.
Andrew and Michael’s was an Italian restaurant. The rustic décor didn’t quite suit the elegant menu but Levi wasn’t complaining. Amazing smells emanated from the rear kitchen. More importantly Jazz had announced that Alayna would arrive at any moment.
The door to the private dining room was flanked by members of Alayna’s security team, two inside, two out. Jazz sat at one end of the long dining table. Levi and Casey had taken seats opposite each other near the end reserved for Alayna. Four male companions, more security, Levi suspected, had joined them at the table. The men had lots of muscle and familiar bulges beneath their jackets. Weapons, obviously. Levi and Casey’s guns had been taken at the door, as had their cell phones. Levi didn’t know about Casey, but he’d initiated the lock on his. If anyone attempted to break the pass code to his phone, the stored information would be deleted. The phone Levi could do without; the weapon was another story. He didn’t like that naked feeling. Particularly when surrounded b
y an armed detail.
Jazz was enthralled with Casey. He directed the occasional question at Levi, but for the most part Levi’s partner carried the conversation. Levi used the time to assess their surroundings and the security. That the two of them seemed to anticipate so easily their proper parts in this partnership continued to surprise him.
In all probability, that was something he shouldn’t get used to. If nothing else, he had learned how unpredictable she could be. He’d learned something else as well. Casey Manning had been wronged. Badly. She trusted no one and believed in nothing but the work.
That truth bothered him far more than it should. He wanted her to believe and to trust…in him.
Jazz withdrew his cell from his pocket and checked the screen. “Ah.” He smiled widely. “She is here.”
Following the reactions of the others around the table to this announcement, Levi rose from his chair.
Jazz hurried to pull out the reserved chair at the head of the table. The belle of the ball waltzed into the room, her steps as graceful as her moves on stage.
“Alayna, may I introduce Levi Stark and his assistant, Casey Manning.” Jazz gestured to each in turn.
“Mr. Stark.” Her voice was rich, almost deep.
Levi nodded an acknowledgment since she did not offer her hand. Alayna spared Casey a brief, measured glance but said nothing. Casey smiled humbly, ever in character.
When Alayna had taken her seat, the rest settled once more. Three waiters rushed into the room, carefully placing salad plates arranged with fresh greens and topped with brightly colored accompaniments. Then the three stepped back and waited to serve the needs of their hostess.
Alayna’s attention came to rest on Levi. “Your presence tonight surprises me, Mr. Stark.”
“How so?” He would put the ball back in her court. If she led he was far less likely to make a misstep.
“I usually receive notice when a man of your professional status schedules a visit to my club.”
He didn’t doubt it a bit after the photos he’d seen in her dressing room. “I doubt you were any more surprised than I. This visit was not on my agenda.”