The Mammoth Book of Special Ops Romance

by Trisha Telep

  “Are you hungry? We have a fully stocked kitchen.” He gestured to the air hostess who obediently popped over. “What would you like?”

  “A coffee and a sandwich?” she ventured hopefully. “I didn’t have a chance for breakfast before your driver called at my house.”

  “A selection of sandwiches and a pot of coffee, please. Thank you, Lois.”

  Summer watched her go. “Is she an agent?”

  “No, she came with the plane.” His eyes roved over her face, came to rest on her lips for a few seconds, dipped down, taking in the plunging neckline of her crisp blue shirt, hiding yet revealing the swell of her breasts. “Do you have any questions about the assignment?”

  “Just an observation, really. It’s too easy. Did you ever think you were being set-up?”

  “Not particularly, no. There is no reason for the targets to expect that we know anything.”

  “Kevin.” Summer drew a breath. “I hate to break it to you but these types of guy are born paranoid. They would have checked both of us out the moment your agency put our names down as interested parties for the auction.”

  “All they would have found if they bothered to investigate is photos of our wedding, pictures of us on holiday in the Alps and one or two social snaps in the media.”

  Summer was impressed. “Well now, that’s interesting. And it’s taken a certain amount of forethought. How did you know I’d agree to the scam?”

  “We didn’t. It was a huge risk. We had no one else lined up to help.”

  “Am I allowed to see the pictures?”

  “Yes, here they are.” He spun the small laptop around so that she could scroll through the photos herself. Someone had done an amazing job in Photoshop. Looking at the pictures she could almost believe that they were real.

  “I’m impressed. I like this one. This is the wedding reception, right? I love the tiara I’m wearing. Nicely cut diamonds too.” She spun the computer back to him. “Someone at your agency had fun doing this.”

  “I know, I had to drag him away from it. I think he maybe has 300 photos of you and I doing a variety of social events.”

  “That is enthusiasm.”

  Lois carried over the tray of sandwiches and coffee. She smiled at them both as they hastily pushed the laptop and papers out of her way. She left them to their food and quietly slipped away to go and feed the pilots.

  “Do you know any of the people in your folder?” Kevin asked as he popped one of the sandwich triangles into his mouth.

  “I recognize the names. Some of them are very well known in my . . . uh, field . . . as buyers. I haven’t met any of them. I made sure never to be seen. I had my guy take care of all the face-to-face stuff. Till now.” She flipped through a series of photos. “There are some very wealthy people in here. Are you sure this auction is legitimate?”

  “As legitimate as it can be. Documents of provenance are available to view as a matter of course. The authenticity of the items for sale has been verified by a variety of professionals.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Was it your guy who hacked into our computer and found out that the auction is in Egypt?”

  Summer shrugged, sipping her coffee. “Maybe. It’s just a detail now.”

  Cairo was hot. They were escorted off the plane, their passports hastily stamped by the customs officials before they were whisked away into a black SUV. Summer raised an eyebrow at the matching sets of Italian luggage in the back of the car. Kevin brushed his lips over her temple when he saw her querying look.

  “I have to make sure my bride is fittingly attired.” His palm skimmed her arm. “I’ve got a good eye when it comes to dressing my woman.”

  “If I like anything, it stays mine,” Summer warned, only half jokingly, suppressing a shiver as his hand reached for hers. She watched him curl her fingers around his and kiss her wrist then her palm.

  “Whatever you want, Mrs Hunter. You only have to ask.”

  Her lips quirked into a smile. She caught the gaze of the driver in the rear-view mirror. They were considering and intelligent and very interested. She lowered her own gaze and turned towards Kevin.

  “In that case, can we hurry to the hotel so I can try on all my new clothes for you?” she murmured, having no problem making her voice husky.

  A huff of laughter exploded from Kevin. He spoke to the driver through the intercom and the car picked up speed as it wove through the already insane Cairo traffic.

  Kevin drew her to his side and draped an arm around her, the fingers of his hand doing lazy circles on her hypersensitive flesh. “I can’t think when you do that,” she confessed, squirming against his side. “Please stop.”

  “I don’t need you to think right now. Just act like you love me,” he murmured against her hair. “It will make everything far easier.”

  Summer let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. She sank against him, loving the feel of him against her.

  “This is dangerous, you know.”

  “I know.” In response he pulled her even closer, nestling her fully against the line of his body. “But I like it.”

  The driver’s gaze flickered to them throughout the journey to the hotel. They crossed the Nile, passed a variety of checkpoints and eventually pulled up outside of the most amazing hotel Summer had ever seen. It looked like a palace.

  She gasped, laughing in delight. “It’s gorgeous!”

  “Nothing but the best for my bride! I’ve arranged for us to have one of the presidential suites. The auction is tomorrow and I want to make sure you get a good night’s rest.”

  The concierge smiled widely when he saw them. The way he reacted to Kevin it was clear that they had known one another for a long time.

  “Mr Hunter! So good to see you again. And this time you’ve brought your beautiful wife.” He was an attractive gentleman in his late fifties, immaculately dressed, with ink-black hair and smiling eyes. “Welcome to our hotel, Mrs Hunter. We hope you will like it here.”

  “Thank you!” Summer leaned against Kevin. “I’m sure I will.”

  “Your suite is ready, Mr Hunter. We’ll arrange for your luggage to be brought upstairs. Please let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Thank you, Hussam. I’ll speak with you later. We may need a car tomorrow.” Kevin put his hand out and Summer almost didn’t spot the exchange of folded notes between the two men, it was done so subtly.

  Tucking his arm around her, as if afraid she might disappear, Kevin steered them to the lifts. The hotel’s opulence left her speechless. She tried not staring but the amount of marble and gilt surrounding her could easily have fed a small African country for years.

  They stepped into the mirrored lift, which whisked them up to the top floor of the hotel at breathtaking speed. He linked hands with her as they stepped out of the elevator. “We’ve not swept the room for bugs, so play along for a moment,” he murmured to her, leading her to one of only two suites on the whole floor.

  “I think we’ve got a view of the Nile.” Kevin unlocked the doors and ushered her into the suite’s foyer. He held up his hand and from his pocket he brought out a small electronic device. Summer watched as he went around the suite, sweeping for listening devices and cameras.

  “We’re clear.” He pocketed the device; it looked no larger than a PDA.

  Summer entered the main room of the suite. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the Nile and downtown Cairo.

  “It’s stunning. You sure know how to spoil a girl.” Summer turned, taking in the lounge and kitchen. “This place is bigger than my entire house!”

  “Just enjoy it. Come here.” He loosely grabbed her by the waist, making it clear she could easily withdraw from his grip. When she willingly moved towards him he bent his head over hers. “Can I just say, for the record, that you have the most sinfully wicked mouth I have ever seen on a woman? I wanted to kiss you from the moment I saw you.”

  “Oh.” Summer reflectively licked her lips. “Wel
l, that’s a new one for me.”

  He nuzzled her neck, planting tiny feathery kisses up towards her jaw, working his way to her mouth. He bit her lip gently, keeping his eyes open, staring into hers. Slowly, so slowly it felt like a millennium passed, his lips lowered to hers and he kissed her gently, slowly deepening the kiss. Summer, totally engrossed in this intimate act, swayed closer to him, draping one hand around his neck, resting the other lightly on his hip. She could feel his heart thundering against her and shifted her hips so that she was pressed tightly against him. Kevin’s hands spanned her waist and she became hyper-aware of his fingers skimming the bottom of her breasts. She moaned softly, pressing closer, trapping his hands between them.

  A discreet knock on the door had them separating quickly, if only for a few centimetres. Summer swayed dizzily, trying to focus on her surroundings. Eventually she gave up and sat down on the nearest couch, her legs refusing to hold her up any longer. Her heart was racing and she felt high.

  A young bellboy rolled in a trolley stacked with their luggage. His gaze swept over Summer, taking in her slightly dishevelled state, Kevin busying himself in the small kitchen, pouring two glasses of chilled water from the fridge. Summer wasn’t entirely sure how Kevin got across the room as fast as he did.

  “You can leave the luggage in the bedroom,” he told the bellboy and walked back to the couch to give Summer her glass of water.

  She accepted it gratefully and gulped it down. He settled next to her, looking at ease and relaxed. Only the light flush across his cheekbones indicated that anything was amiss.

  The bellboy exited without a word, ducking his head in thanks as he noticed the American twenty-dollar bill on the small table by the door.

  “Why don’t we unpack? I want to show you around the hotel and then we can go meet some of my old friends who live in the city?” He stood and stretched. “The auction and party is tomorrow and we may as well enjoy ourselves till then.”

  Summer nodded, relieved that her heart rate was slowing down. She followed him across the living area to the main bedroom. The room was the size of a rugby field. The bed in the middle of the room managed to dominate its surroundings. It stood on a raised dais and, even if it had been illuminated by a spotlight, it couldn’t have been any less obvious.

  “That is a big bed,” she managed. “Do they expect their guests to entertain harems in here?”

  His lips quirked. “It’s been known to happen. This used to be a palace. Its conversion to a hotel is only its latest incarnation.”

  He swung the bags on to the bed.

  “There is a smaller room, connected through there, which is yours. But I thought, since we were married—” his smile was lazy “—we could share this one.”

  Summer nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She unzipped her suitcase and started lifting out designer clothing, all in her size: blouses, shirts, trousers, jackets, dresses, skirts, shorts, T-shirts and lacy camisoles.

  “You weren’t kidding,” she said to Kevin. “You do like your women well dressed. I like my new wardrobe!”

  “Woman. Singular, woman,” he corrected her, turning away from hanging up a dark suit in the walk-in closet. “Do you like them?”

  “Yes, of course I do.” And she did. She recognized the majority of the labels because she had seen them in the wardrobes of the rich women she robbed. “Although I am not entirely sure when you expect me to wear this.” She swung a skimpy negligee out to show him. “This is going just a bit too far, isn’t it?”

  Kevin shrugged, a wide smile on his face. “Oh, I don’t know. I think we should be prepared for any eventuality.”

  “What? Posing for Playboy?” she quipped back, stifling hysterical laughter.

  His shrug was melodramatic. She chuckled to herself, relieved that she could still see the humorous side to the situation.

  “Aren’t there people who usually hang up your clothing for you in places like this?” she asked, smiling.

  “Yes, but I don’t like other people touching my things.” Kevin lifted the last suit from his suitcase. “I’m extremely possessive.”

  Humming to herself, Summer tidied her clothes away, and then stowed her suitcase in a compartment inside the wardrobe.

  “The other reason why I choose to unpack my own luggage is because of this.” Kevin closed the lid of his suitcase, ran his fingers over the combination lock on the front, found the right sequence and popped it open again.

  Summer leaned in to look and shook her head. “Are you crazy? Have you ever seen the inside of an Egyptian prison?”

  Strapped to the lid of the suitcase was a variety of fighting and throwing knives. The bottom half of the case was taken up by two matt-black Heckler & Koch USP handguns. Summer ran her fingertips over them and whistled softly.

  “Very pretty. But I prefer the blades.” Whippet fast, she flicked two of the knives from their sheaths and spun them in her hands, going into a defensive crouch. The metal blinked dully in the light coming through the windows. “Very nice. These are Dark Ops knives, aren’t they? Fantastically balanced.” As she spoke she spun and flung both knives. They thudded into the wall, one on either side of a dramatic painting of windswept desert sands.

  “Remind me not to venture into the kitchen with you,” Kevin said dryly, walking over to the wall and levering the knives out of the plaster. “Here, if you can hide these on your body, by all means, have them.”

  Her smile was wide. Summer ignored the fact that he looked shocked that she appeared happier with the gift of the knives than she did when he gave her the rings on the plane.

  “Well, what next?” she asked, sliding the knives into the two sheaths she had modified to fit inside the boots she wore, hiding them under her jeans.

  “Next, we go talk to a man about a some new phones.”

  The Scarab was a privately-owned leisure cruiser moored just off the Corniche el Nil. The Mercedes had no trouble parking and a liveried attendant hastened to open the doors for Summer and Kevin. Dressed in a classic black Chanel trouser suit and Manolo pumps, Summer felt decidedly underdressed as she spied the lavish clothing of some of the other female guests. Kevin wore a fitted dinner suit, sans tie, and looked every inch the rich playboy. He kept hold of her hand as their names were ticked off the guest list. A man handed them the seating plan for the auction and waved them aboard.

  “Something’s not right.” Summer’s smile was bright and vibrant as she brought a champagne flute to her lips. “I feel itchy.”

  “Maybe it’s the thought of all those valuable treasures below,” he teased.

  “Do you think we can go and view them?”

  “I don’t see why not. We are here legitimately after all.”

  They made their way down the stairs, following the discreet signs to the auction room. Two burly Egyptians stood guard outside. Kevin flashed their invitations and the guards used hand-held metal detectors to search them for concealed weapons. When they found none, the two men stepped aside to allow them entry.

  The room was lavishly decorated in cream and gold. A small podium with a microphone was set up at the front of the room. Thirty seats were arranged in neat rows before the podium. One of the attendants noticed them and hurried over.

  “Mr Hunter, it is such a pleasure to see you. I expect you and your lovely wife would be keen to see what we have on offer?” He gestured. “Please, come this way.” He handed them a catalogue of items on display. “Let me know if there is anything here that you would like to put a pre-emptive bid on.”

  Summer kept the smile on her face as they followed the man through to a smaller room. A variety of boxes and glass cases were arranged around the room. She wondered how they got some of the larger objects in here. The statues from the Middle and Far East had a variety of interested guests examining and discussing them in various languages. She could hear German, French, Italian and Russian and she recognized three of the men in the room. One of them she had even recently robbed. It brought a grin
to her face.

  “I really think this would look good in the foyer,” Kevin was saying, nodding his head at an Egyptian bronze figure of Osiris from the Late Period, so ugly it made her eyes water.

  “No, sweetie, this is how it works. I choose what I want for the house, you pay.” Her patient admonishment brought laughter from some of the other people in the room.

  Kevin wore a resigned and much-put-upon face. “You’re the expert.” And then proceeded to follow her around, taking great delight in pointing out the ugliest objects there and recommending them for installation in the blue guest room, the main lounge, second foyer and, once, even the kitchen of their imaginary house. By her estimation their house must have been the size of Versailles.

  Summer felt like strangling him. Until, that is, she walked up to a small display case holding a single Sumerian clay tablet covered in cuneiform, the world’s first written language. Everything around her faded away and she focused her attention on the tablet. Her heart thumped in her chest and her palms became sweaty. She knew the history of cuneiform better than she knew her own name. She looked past the fact that at least fifteen different peoples including Sumerian, Babylonian and Assyrian used cuneiform to write in. What interested her was that cuneiform was succeeded by Aramaic script, which was then in turn replaced by Arabic in the seventh century. This example looked innocent enough, but it was the tiny marking towards the bottom of the tablet which was making her heart race. She recalled seeing a series of articles on objects looted from the National Iraqi Museum in Baghdad. Among them were a series of clay tablets, not unlike this one. Admittedly, a clay tablet was a clay tablet but few contained the x-marks-the-spot factor.

  “Make sure we bid on this. It will be ideal for our collection,” she murmured to Kevin, strolling away to the next exhibit. He nodded, barely glancing at the clay tablet and made a note in the catalogue. They continued their stroll and made several further selections in the catalogue, among which was a large statue of the goddess Isis.

  Kevin spent a lot of time chatting to other people, and a variety of business cards were exchanged. He pressed palms with many acquaintances before collecting Summer from where she stood admiring thick gold torc-style hoop earrings from an Etruscan excavation.