My body betrays me as I begin to tremble beneath his unyielding hold. His intensity is nearly overwhelming.
Wait, there is no way that I’m about to let my nerves and attraction to this total stranger interfere with my mission.
“Listen, Zoran.” His eyes flare as I say his name. “Whatever your issue is with me, or even Americans in general, you need to drop it. I’m having a nice evening and I have done nothing to deserve your suspicion. It’s not my fault that your boss is hot for me. It’s so not my problem if you happen to be jealous. You need to back off, got it?”
He’s stone still.
I have never seen a human being that motionless. Damn, damn! I’ve just thoroughly pissed him off!. His features give nothing away. He’s on total lockdown, but the energy rolling off him is fearsome.
Fascinated, I watch his face come down ever so slowly toward mine and just when I think that he’s about to kiss me, he tilts his head at the last possible second before our lips meet. He speaks quietly against my ear, so close that those sensual, full lips touch my sensitive skin, causing it to warm. His hot breath mimics a heated caress. My eyes flutter closed at the intensity of it.
He whispers to me low and slow, like a lover, “You need to be taught manners, princeza.”
I gasp softly and stare up at him, surprised by his perplexing choice of words. He watches me with certainty, as if he knows all my darkest secrets. I tremble against him, unable to control the potent, raw electricity running between us.
Without warning, he takes a wide step back, releasing me completely. He lifts his chin and says brusquely, “Go in.”
Sucking in a breath, I do just that, barely able to coordinate my shaky steps into the ladies’ room. I’m unnerved by the little thrill I felt when he called me ‘princess’ in his sensual language.
Chapter Two
Nerves of Steel
Once I’m locked within the farthest stall, I whisper, “Alan, Breck, am I coming through clearly?”
Breck immediately replies. “Copy, Carew, go ahead.”
“I haven’t much time. I’ll be on my way to Juric’s home shortly. Go ahead and make your way over there and I’ll exit as planned off the balcony of his master bedroom. Make sure you take out that security camera and interrupt the alarm when you see my signal that I’m ready. I’m ditching the earpiece now. His guard is smarter than most and I can’t risk being caught. These men will play dirty if they catch me in the act. I’ll insist on driving my rental so you’ll have a trace on me en route.”
“Copy that, Carew. Proceed with caution.”
“Always. Over.”
I pull the teeny ear bud from my right ear and flush it down the toilet. I wouldn’t put it past Zoran and his annoyingly suspicious personality to check my entire body for wires or devices before allowing me to be alone with his boss. As much of a pain in the ass as he is, I have to admit that he’s right. He should be cautious. I’m about to harm Vasilije Juric, in one way or another. And he won’t be able to stop me ….
My director is well aware of Juric’s affinity for beautiful, challenging women. Being a single, virile businessman, Vasilije Juric excels at the sport of running through them like hurdles at a track meet. Our director decided that, considering our target’s multiple bodyguards, only a female operative would be able to gain access to his bedroom without using violent measures.
We’re not in the business of killing unless it’s in self-defense. Hardcore mercenaries can have those bloody jobs. Our firm specializes in the acquisition of highly guarded data. We only grant meetings to individuals who have been referred to us directly by past clients. Even then we turn down over fifty percent of those requests. To say that my firm is discriminating would be the understatement of the millennium. We charge a premium and dissect each and every job in the conceptual phase, thus all but eliminating the possibility of error. But there’s always a chance something could go wrong, and I’ve heard my fair share of horror stories where it came down to kill or be killed. Luckily, I’ve been trained for those circumstances. With my skill at martial arts, I qualify as a lethal weapon.
I have studied the specialized martial art of Aikido since I was a young child, due in part to the stalwartness of my Marine father. I still find it a fascinating art form. With Aikido, you are not the aggressor; you use the momentum of your attacker and reroute that energy to deflect any harm from your body. It truly is ‘the way of harmonious spirit.’ On the rare occasion that I’ve had to use my skills to keep me from harm, it has worked brilliantly.
As I check my reflection in the mirror and wash my hands, my mind flits back to an old, painful memory. Early one evening, when I was only three years old, my father arrived home from work. My mother realized that she was nearly out of coffee and was going to pop over to the market to pick some up. She walked out the door and was never seen again.
My father was frantic, assisting the police for months and months during their extensive investigation. Things like this simply did not happen in our tiny Georgia town of fewer than fifteen thousand. Her station wagon was found behind a dairy two miles from her destination. There were traces of her blood smeared on the driver’s seat, but unfortunately nothing in the way of fingerprints that might lead to a suspect.
My father was nearly destroyed. She was his world. The structure the military had given him and the knowledge that he had a duty to raise his only child kept him level-headed and strong. The day after my fourth birthday, he took me to the top martial arts school in our area. He wanted me to be prepared for any threat. And I am.
After applying a final sweep of Sephora baby doll pink gloss, I pull in a calming breath and head toward the door. Here we go … show time.
As I step out of the safety of the restroom, I notice that Zoran is lightly touching his earpiece and speaking in Croatian. His words are low and quick, too fast for me to catch. His eyes sweep over me in a full body scan that makes my arm hairs stand on end right before he clasps my hand and rumbles, “Mr. Juric is waiting. Let’s go.”
The music is thumping hard with a fabulous techno beat. Gorgeous bodies grind against one another on the heaving dance floor. A few sexy, latex-clad dancers hang from suspended cages. Wicked cool. Now this is the way a club should be set up.
We make our way back to the VIP area and once Zoran steps aside, slowly releasing my hand in the process, I see that Juric is standing, obviously ready to depart.
He addresses me confidently. “I trust that you have made your decision, Sonia?”
I close the distance between us, clasp my fingers together, and say sweetly, “I would love to be your companion for the night, Vasilije, but on one condition.”
A dark brow arches in question. “And that would be?”
“It’s a bit embarrassing, but I would feel more comfortable following you home in my rental car. I’d like to know that I can leave whenever I choose. Call it being vigilant, I suppose.” I look down shyly at my heels.
He gives a short, amused laugh. “You are a delightful little minx, aren’t you? Yes, of course. My car will lead and my additional men will follow you, to make certain that you do not get lost. Sound fine, darling?”
“Oh yes, that works for me.” I give him a serene smile and hope that he gives up the weird romantic banter soon. It’s just creepy.
I purposefully keep my eyes averted from the lone person who seems intent on gaining access to my secrets … Zoran. I bet that man is a stellar poker player. Too bad I won’t be around long enough to find out. After this evening I’ll simply disappear, never to be seen again by either of them.
Juric’s hand reaches around my waist and lands softly on my lower back. “Shall we, then?”
I flutter my lashes and allow him to lead me past the two hulking men guarding the back door. The cool evening air sweeps across my bare arms and legs. I can’t help but long for the black cashmere wrap that I left back in my hotel room. There is a chill in the early April air. No matter, I’ll crank the heat
once we’re en route.
I know that his sprawling estate lies just on the fringes of Zagreb, perhaps five to seven miles from this bustling area of town. I don’t want him to pick up on the fact that I know where he lives, so I remain quiet on the brief walk over to my car. Zoran is a few steps behind us and I dutifully ignore him. Juric rubs my back in slow, small circles as we walk.
Once we reach my silver compact, he lifts the keys from my hands and takes charge, opening the door and holding my hand with care as he helps me into my ride.
“Please wear your seatbelt, my darling. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Of course.” I give him my best ‘I can’t wait to get in your pants’ smile.
Headlights illuminate us from behind.
He lifts his head to peer behind my car. “Ah, here are my men now. We will lead the way, with Zoran driving. He’ll be certain not to lose you. Isn’t that right, Zoran?”
The huge Croatian scans the dark street as he responds to Juric. “Da.” Yes.
Juric closes my door and I watch them walk to his stunning, black Bugatti Veyron. It’s one of the fastest street legal cars on the planet and it screams sex. Zoran gets in to drive, and Juric lowers his body down into the passenger seat. His two additional guards are ready to go behind me in a sweet black Maserati. Inside of a minute our mini convoy takes off into the black night.
I have my plan locked down in my mind as the miles swiftly pass. I’m confident that the job will go off without a hitch. We’re set for a six a.m. flight out of the capital on a private jet, heading straight to Paris with a brief layover before we transfer to a commercial flight. After that we fly direct to the Atlanta International Airport. We’ve never missed a flight yet.
The lights of the city have given way to tall, elegant, gas-powered street lamps that illuminate the sprawling gates of stunning mansions. The people who live here are extraordinarily wealthy. As we drive, we wind higher up to the top of a steep hill and the pretty lights of the city twinkle below. So, he likes to gaze out over his realm? How arrogant of you, Juric. We’ll soon see what business secrets you’re hiding ….
We stop momentarily and Zoran punches in the six digit code at the security gate. We acquired the code last evening after a stake-out several hundred yards away. Breck and Alan hid in the heavy trees that surround his property. It’s amazing what a set of high-powered night vision goggles will allow you to see. I’ll need that code to escape when we have what we’ve come for.
I’ve seen his mansion online via satellite but I’m still amazed by the architectural beauty of it. The structure is both Italianate and historic. From what I see illuminated by the myriad of spotlights on the façade, the villa is composed entirely of pale gray white marble. It is two stories high, with a grand portico made up of sweeping marble arches that run the impressive length of the home. Each of the Corinthian columns stands proud, providing just the right touch of grandeur.
We pull to a rolling stop beside a stone fountain that ten men could bathe in comfortably. I smooth my dress and step out of the safety of my car. I’m feeling equal parts determined and nervous but I’m eager to proceed and mark this off my list. Another successful job for yet another satisfied customer.
Juric strides toward me with a wolfish smile on his refined face. “Ah, Sonia, come. Let me show you my home.”
I purposefully act a little shy, wanting him to think that I’m unaccustomed to seeing such an impressive home, to reassure him that I’m anything but a threat to him. Little does he know I could be more tenacious than a PC cyber virus.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Zoran watching us carefully. Ugh, I hope he doesn’t follow us into the bedroom! Does he ever turn his intensity down a notch?
“I hope you don’t mind, Sonia, but my lead guard, Zoran, is such a stickler for my safety. With your permission, of course, I would ask that he perform a quick search of your person. Would this be all right, my lovely?”
I was certain that this was coming. I have nothing to hide. Not exactly ….
“Oh my. Well, I suppose that would be all right. I’ve never been searched before, Vasilije.” I clutch my purse as if I’m uncomfortable and a little frightened.
Juric says something to Zoran that causes the bodyguard to step in close to me. I try to keep my breathing even but it’s increasingly difficult to do so around him.
“Hold your arms out, please,” he says in a methodical, nearly clinical tone. Nothing like the heated, tension-filled exchange we had in the shadowy club hallway. Juric is occupied scanning emails on his black iPhone a few feet away.
I can’t stifle a full body shiver as Zoran lowers down into a crouch and spans my right ankle with both his giant hands. They sweep straight up my leg to the top of my thigh. His touch makes me feel lightheaded. I try to think of something else, anything to distract me from his electrifying touch.
What is he searching for? A knife or a miniature gun? This dress allows for no secrets and he must know that. After he runs his hands up my other leg he stands, towering over me, and reaches out to place his hands on my shoulders. I flinch and he notices. His brows draw together and he frowns as he slows his movements. Is he trying not to frighten me? Why should he care?
I suck in a breath as his hot, rough hands move from my shoulders down my bare arms to encircle my slim wrists. He pulls them outward with surprising gentleness.
Holding my eyes with his cool, calculating gaze, he says, “Leave them there.”
With arms held away from my sides, I wait for the examination to continue. He spreads his hands and encircles my waist as a simultaneous flash of need erupts deep within me. If he doesn’t stop soon he’ll certainly know how his touch is affecting me ….
“Please,” I whisper quietly as his hands slowly sweep up to the base of my peaked breasts. The material of my dress is a thin silk blend. Everything, including my aroused nipples, is on display through the flimsy material. Ignoring my plea, he stares at them for a moment longer than is acceptable before turning away to tell Juric in Croatian, “She’s good.”
I drop my arms back down and mentally berate myself for nearly salivating over this inscrutable man. I straighten my shoulders and ask Juric, “Are we finished with the formalities, then?”
He doesn’t seem apologetic in the least for allowing me to be frisked. It’s a simple precaution in order for a stranger to be welcomed into his inner sanctum, a necessary means of survival for him. How daunting to have to go through that on a daily basis, to never be sure who you can trust.
Juric leads the way as we enter a foyer the size of an art gallery. Three stories soar upward to a stunning dome that, at this distance, appears to be inlaid with silver. But what’s hanging suspended from the curved ceiling makes me gasp in sheer delight.
“Oh my, Vasilije, is that a Florian Cassel chandelier?” I can’t hide the genuine thrill in my voice.
Standing motionless in the foyer, he grins down at me like a proud peacock.
“Why yes, my beauty. I commissioned him to create the piece especially for this space. Are you familiar with his work?”
Florian Cassel, one of the most celebrated modern Parisian glass blowers. His work is beyond extraordinary. I’ve always been fascinated with glass art and in my humble opinion, Florian’s work is hands down the finest in the world. I regularly swoon over his creations in art review magazines, and this man actually possesses one of his pieces. Unbelievable! This shocking piece of art must cost upwards of half a million dollars. For a chandelier.
I stare in wonder at the twisting swirls of colored glass that flow downward into a twelve-foot-long pyramid. Turquoise, white, gold, and pewter colors create a kaleidoscopic riot of perfection.
Still gazing upwards, I say softly, “Yes, he had an exhibit at a botanical garden back in the states that I attended while in college. It was one of the most beautiful collections of art that I have ever seen. You’re very fortunate to have one of his pieces.”
&nbs
p; He seems serious as he says, “I work hard and make certain to acquire everything that I want. I admire a woman who has passion for life, for art. Come, my beauty.”
His arm closes around my waist and he ushers me through the room beside him. We head up the wide, curved set of white Bianchi marble steps that lead to the second story of the mansion. No messing around with a tour this evening. He must be ready to get busy. Bring your best, bad boy ….
Halfway up the elegant staircase, I stop to stare in awe. The Cassel wonder is now nearly at eye level. Ribbons of striated color flow through each mesmerizing twist. I could stand here all night and never get enough. Mesmerized, I nearly reach out for the railing so I can bend forward for a closer look. But then I remember my training and compose myself. I must not leave fingerprints if I can help it, especially on an object that no one else will have touched.
I sense that I’m being watched from below and dip my chin to lock eyes with Zoran. His hands are crossed at his wrists and rest just below his belt line. He stares at me with a narrowed scowl that is completely terrifying. It’s as if he’s furious that I’m here at all. How could he sense anything wrong? There’s no way that I’m not the first woman to visit his boss’ house.
Perhaps he’s just jealous, thinking that Juric is about to get lucky rather than him. Who cares? I have a job to complete and I can’t afford to let this gorgeous man distract me.
With a dismissive toss of my hair, I arch a brow at him and turn to face Juric before continuing up the staircase. Nothing you can do to stop me now, Zoran. The train has left the station. I’m about to hack your boss’ PC, big guy.
We make our way in silence down a large hallway inlaid with mosaic tile. The floor is so intricate. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. A geometric vision of black and white with shades of amber, each perfectly placed to form an ingenious pattern that runs the length of the hall. I nearly feel guilty walking across it. I’m half-tempted to take off my spiked high heels.
Captured in Croatia Page 3