by Duka Dakarai
Again, Kane tries to ease the conversation away but I sigh resigned to answering one more question. “It’s ok, Kane.” I smile at him. “I’m happy to answer. Wikipedia probably has my whole story anyway.” I laugh lightly before continuing. “My father was an investigative journalist and I idolised him. When he was killed…..murdered…..I suppose I was determined to go after the bad guys. Somehow, chasing the criminals keeps me strong in a crazy kind of way. I bet you wish you hadn’t asked now. I’m sorry if I’ve put a damper on the party. But I’m so accustomed to just telling it how it is….well, there you go.”
I glance quickly towards Kane for reassurance that I somehow haven’t totally blown it, whatever it is, and am momentarily taken aback by the softness of his features. For a moment our eyes seem locked together as though magnetically transfixed. He rubs a tender thumb across my cheek before suddenly catching himself and resuming his working stance.
“So, a total change of subject…..how do you cope with beard rash?” A scrawny teenager sniggers behind us.
I snap my head in the direction of the question. “Excuse me?”
The teenager, the youngest child of the local butcher I am soon to learn, presses on. “You can’t go on TV with beard rash. So you can’t kiss Kane very much.” The young woman flutters her eyes adoringly towards Kane. There is a round of laughter and teasing, all aimed in our direction. I feel the flush in my cheeks rising.
“We kiss often enough, don’t you worry, Janine.” Kane responds gruffly.
“Yes, we do. So I don’t need a stand-in, if that’s what you’re hoping!” I tease her in retort, hoping that we can steer the conversation away.
She huffs from embarrassment folding defiant arms across her chest. “Well, I still say you don’t. My older brother has a beard and his girlfriend is always complaining of getting beard rash.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Janine. Drop it now.” Her father reprimands her. “Sky, kiss him and maybe then she will shut up about it and stop her mooning.” He laughs heartily.
Suddenly, all eyes are on me. The seconds drag as I tennis ball glances between the circle of friends and Kane. His eyes are wide and momentarily, he seems genuinely out of his comfort zone. Sky, you have been in worst scrapes than this.....
I lean inward towards Kane holding his face between my hands. I run my tongue softly along his bottom lip, gently nipping and sucking, drawing his mouth open. A stunned groan escapes from his mouth. I feel his arousal overtake him as he pulls me firmly into his chest. He grasps the opportunity of my parted lips, plunging his tongue deep into my mouth. His taste is exquisite, intoxicating and I want more, my tongue finding his, circling and dancing in tune. My moan vibrates across our lips as we hungrily crave to deepen the kiss further.
We snap apart as we hear the gasps of those surrounding us, cheers and wolf whistles echoing in the night air. Kane stares at me, breathless, with hooded lustful eyes. I feel a flush spread across every inch of my skin.
Chapter Six
Alexei Bortsov launches himself out of his Orbit leather recliner striding angrily towards the two incompetent fools stood before him in his study. “I said find her….not bring me excuses why you have failed! You fucking idiots! I want you to find Sky Sinclair. How fucking hard can it be?!!” He turns away in disgust, balling each hand into a tight fist. “Get out of my fucking sight! Find her!”
Viktor and Yury immediately depart the study. Viktor glares at his partner, his lip snarled in fury. “You lost the Brabus. This is your fuck-up!”
“Get out of my face, Viktor! We need to find her and fast!”
***
Several days have passed since the night of the barbeque. And that kiss. Kane and I left Creek Retreat shortly afterwards and each departed into our own room without a further word spoken between us. Since then, we have danced cautiously around one another keeping any communication to a minimum. The air in the house is thick with tension and I sense that Kane is feeling as suffocated as I am.
Thankfully, Storm is due to arrive today to bring us an update on the investigation. DCI Jack Mercer may accompany him but if there is any hint of an increased risk that he is being ‘watched’ then it is agreed that Storm will relay the information on his behalf. Either way, I am relieved to have further news but more so to have another person and distraction in the house, even for a few hours.
I busy myself until then making sandwiches for lunch and endlessly researching Alexei Bortsov on the internet. Since I began this investigation, there has been a constant niggle picking at the base of my mind, and frustratingly I cannot fathom what it is. But there is something more to find. I just do not know what. Yet.
***
A rumble from the driveway leaps me from my chair. Kane has sprung into action, his hand signalling me to still, his finger already stroking the trigger of his Sig Sauer P226. I hear a singular, low bird call witnessing Kane visibly relax. Moments later, a gentle two tap knock on the door indicates that Storm has arrived. He folds his bulk through the doorway grinning broadly at his boss. DCI Mercer follows closely behind.
The gentle giant robotically scans the room before settling his eyes in my direction. “So how are the things in the happy house?” He guffaws. “I see you haven’t killed each other yet.”
“Storm!” Kane growls, throwing Storm a warning glare.
“Oh, I’ve been tempted…..believe me.” I drawl lightly in response, flashing a smile at the two arrivals. I make my way through to the kitchen to collect the prepared refreshments onto trays. The three men busy themselves with general catch-up chatter while awaiting my return.
Storm leans across the coffee table towards Kane, his voice deliberately low while I am out of earshot. “So, what’s the story? You could cut the sexual tension in here with a knife….no, fuck….a chainsaw.”
DCI Mercer sniggers loudly, arching an eyebrow at Kane. “Yeah, I felt it too. Is your cock twitching after the lovely Miss Sinclair, Kane?”
Kane scrapes a hand aggressively across his jaw. “Fuck the pair of you!” He growls, shaking his head in frustration.
“Might as well spill it now, boss, before you implode.” Storm beckons.
Kane eyes his partner, a slow guilty smirk spreading across his face. “We accidently kissed.”
“Accidently?” Storm exchanges a puzzled look with Jack Mercer.
“Long story. But yeah, it happened.” Kane slumps back in the chair, pawing a hand across the back of his neck.
“And?” Jack pushes, leaning in towards Kane. Storm follows suit.
“For fuck’s sake! I wanted to throw her over my shoulder, toss her sweet ass in my bed and fuck her until she couldn’t walk straight. Happy now?” Kane leans his elbows on his knees, enveloping his head in his large hands.
Storm releases a low whistle. He has never known Kane to lose his cool….not while on the job, and especially not over a woman. But the acknowledging silence between them is the recognition that Kane cannot pull himself from this mission. Always finish the job…..
As I enter the sitting room I am confused as each man snaps his head in my direction. It would appear that I may have just missed some crude laddish joke at my expense. I shrug it off placing the tea and coffee on the table. “So Jack, you have an update for me?”
He coughs lightly, forcing himself back into professional mode. “Indeed. There have been several developments.”
***
Jack Mercer takes a long slug of his coffee. He nods before speaking. “Your gut was right, Sky. The second autopsy on the victim showed up traces of Hydrogen Cyanide in her blood stream. It was missed at the first autopsy. So we are definitely looking at homicide….unless of course, the victim decided to top herself in plush surroundings. But I doubt that. But it shouldn’t have been missed at the first autopsy.”
I shake my head. “No, it would be easy to miss HCN if you were not looking for it. It is virtually undetectable. That is why it is the favoured method of killing especially amongst cert
ain criminal groups.”
“Indeed. But we now need to track the source where it was obtained before we can finger anyone as a suspect.”
“I would hazard a guess that it was not bought. It was probably made. Unfortunately, it is easy enough to make it.” I shrug. I notice Storm and Kane exchange looks, both intently listening to our conversation.
“Made?” Storm enquires.
“Yeah. Made. Probably in someone’s kitchen. All you need is to get hold of some ethanol, in the form of vodka or wine usually, or another drink with a high percentage of alcohol. Then mixing with ammonia under the right conditions will produce HCN. If you have no ammonia, substitute for some fertiliser, the high nitrogen and hydrogen content will suffice. Simply 'mix' these ingredients and warm them at around 200C for about 20 minutes. The resulting liquid should be majorly ethanol, however a small amount of HCN will have formed, enough to kill a mammal up to the size of a horse.”
I palm through the rest of the file that was handed to me previously. I note the silence in the room. Looking up, I encounter the wide eyed expressions of all three men. “What?”
“Damn. You know your stuff, lady.” Storm grins at me.
“You sound surprised. Did you think I have some underpaid researcher do all my work for me? That’s not my style. What else have you got for me, Jack?”
I lean back into my chair bring my knees snugly into my chest as Jack continues with the rest of the developments.
Chapter Seven
The days following the update of the investigation settled into our now usual routine of communicating with each other only when it was absolutely required. I want to raise the subject of our kiss but as time passes, it seems almost pointless now. However, occasionally, I catch Kane eyeing me intently before he snaps his head away.
Today, according to the weather forecast, is going to be hot. I am beginning to feel stir crazy and need desperately to work off the anxiety and tension that sits permanently in every muscle of my body. Kane has announced that he will be in the gym, housed within the boathouse, for the next hour. I decide to throw on a bikini and sit outside in the gardens.
I am restless. The sun is high in the sky, I have an array of books from the study, and my laptop open but still I cannot focus or settle. I make my way across to the boat house. I peek through one of the smaller windows, a breath catching instantly in my throat. Kane is stripped bare wearing only a pair of work-out joggers slung low on his hips. Sweat glistens off his body as he alternates between side kicks and punches on an old boxing bag suspended from the ceiling.
I am transfixed watching as singular muscles ripple, flex and contract as he repeats each motion over and over. His body is a solid mass of muscle, from his wide shoulders down to the delicious v shape leading to……OMG
I can feel myself beginning to pant as my breathing becomes laboured and my arousal deepens. I squeeze my thighs together tightly to release some of the ache building in my sex. I mentally trace a finger along each delicious curve and line of his tattoo which, for the first time, I can now see clearly. Black inked curves run down through his hip, down through the v but ending where?
Rational thought escapes me. I throw open the wooden doors and enter the gym. “Can I join you, Kane?”
He snaps his focus across my near naked body. His eyes narrow, his nostrils momentarily flaring. “You are hardly dressed for a work-out.” He grunts gruffly.
I scan the triangular pieces of material barely covering my modesty, tilting my head up in a challenge. “I can cope if you can.”
A slow smirk spreads across his lips. “I can cope, just fine.”
***
“I can’t do it!” I pout, frustrated.
“Of course you can. Just spread your legs a little wider!” He barks at me.
“I said….I can’t!” I stand up from my stretching position that Kane (aka drill sergeant) has tried to put me in, stamping a foot in deeper frustration. “You are trying to split me in half…..and stop shouting at me like a fucking drill sergeant!”
Kane stands before me, hands firmly on each hip. He smirks at my tantrum. “I thought spreading your legs was easy for a woman.”
I whip my head around and throw him my best death glare. “What did you just say?”
He throws up each hand in mock surrender. “Ok….that was below the belt. I just couldn’t resist it. I was enjoying the tantrum too much.”
I snatch up a pair of boxing gloves and hurl them with full force at his head. “Boxing gloves. Now!” I snarl at him.
Ducking out of the launched missiles, he laughs loudly. “You cannot be serious. You want to fight me?”
I struggle each hand into a boxing mitt. “Right now I want to wipe that smirk right off your face!”
He shakes his head stifling yet another laugh. Picking up the mitts that narrowly missed his head, he slides each large hand into the tight fitting glove. “So shall I give you a head start, sweet cheeks? Shall I shut my eyes?”
I square up to him until we are nearly toe to toe. I lift both hands into a defensive position and prepare my attack. He lifts his hands to mirror mine throwing me a wink. Suddenly, I drop my hands. “Hold on, I have an itch.” I thumb my right breast free from its triangular enclosure exposing the rose bud of my nipple. As I watch his wide eyes divert to the distraction, I throw an uppercut smack into row three of his superb six pack. “Ha, ha sucker!”
He flinches, but only for a spilt second. “Nice. Now let’s see you handle this!” He growls playfully as he launches towards me, tackling me to the ground.
I cry out in pain as he accidently elbows me in the jaw. Involuntary tears spring into my eyes as a sob jumps from my chest. He throws off his gloves, anxiety etched on his face. “Christ, I’m sorry.” He cradles me into him stroking my jaw. “Are you ok? I didn’t mean it.”
“I know you didn’t.” I try to shake free from his tight hold. “I think I should go back to my sunbathing.”
“Sky…..” He whispers, before tenderly thumbing again across my jaw and across my bottom lip. He leans his face towards me brushing his lips softly along my jaw. “Shall I kiss it better?” he murmurs against my throat, nipping and suckling the length of my neck. A moan escapes my lips as I melt into his hold, already parting my lips, waiting hungrily for his mouth on mine. He brushes a thumb across my bottom lip, stroking me slowly, seductively, before leaning into me, licking the same spot with his tongue. I moan at the heat of him. He locks his lips across mine, pressing harder into me, his tongue searching for the comfort of my mouth. Our tongues dance and circle, stoking the fires of our arousal. He groans full into my mouth.
He folds me down until we are lain, limbs entangled on the floor, pressing his groin and hardening erection against me. I grind myself against the thickness of the shaft seeking a deeper connection. I arch my hips into him as he presses himself harder into my sex. Locking my fingers around his neck I pull him harder into me, drunk on the taste of him.
“Sky…..” He groans, slowly separating our connection. “We….we have to stop.” He is breathing hard, still nibbling at my neck. “We have to stop.”
“Kane…”
He pulls harshly away from me. He rests his head in his hands. “We can’t do this. You are my client. I’m here to protect you. I need to remain focussed.” And with that he strides out of the boathouse, leaving me a melting mess of arousal and frustration.
Chapter Eight
Viktor walks cautiously across the manicured lawns of the Russian oligarch’s £147 million Kensington Palace Garden mansion. His boss looks relaxed in a lounger by the vast swimming pool. He is surrounded by paid lovelies all more beautiful than the next. Alexei guffaws as two girls wrestle each other in the pool, their firm breasts bouncing in unison. He palms his twitching cock underneath his Vilebrequin swimming shorts.
Viktor sighs deeply. He is about to put his boss in a very bad mood.
Alexei snaps his hand free as he senses the approach of Viktor. “You
had better have some good news to tell me, Viktor. You wouldn’t want to spoil my fun today now would you?” He glares at the man standing shifting nervously from one foot to the other. Alexei turns his attention to the woman sat at the end of his lounger. “Leave us. We need to discuss some business that will only bore you, my darling.”
The dark haired beauty with violet almond eyes pouts playfully before turning to dive into the pool.
“Well?” Alexei barks at the man.
“We will have her very soon. We have a tail on Mercer and Keaton. And it has been announced today that she has been nominated for a journalism award at the Royal Television Society Awards. It is next week. She will come out of hiding for that. We will not fail this time, Mr Bortsov.” Viktor chews the inside of his cheek.