by Carter Blake
“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. al Sahli,” Dani says as she takes his outstretched hand.
Mahdi responds by bursting once more into Gilbert and Sullivan. I’ve got to hand it to Dani; she reacts with total grace to the strangest of things.
The car Mahdi’s picked out will blend right in.
It’s not too old, not too new, and a little beaten up. You’d never be able to tell it’s bullet proof.
Mahdi and I have a little disagreement because I want Dani to sit in the front with him, but he insists on playing chauffeur.
He looks at me knowingly, and I almost go red. I’d forgotten how people you knew as a teenager are still so able make you feel like an adolescent.
He’s right though; it’s bloody nice to feel Dani sliding in next to me.
Her jasmine perfume matches the scent of this city, and it’s intoxicating. She’s running her foot up and down my leg, and it’s very hard to concentrate on what Mahdi is saying. I barely catch the end of his sentence.
“...you like that area, don’t you Jackal?”
I stiffen and feign attentiveness. “I’m sorry Mahdi, I didn’t quite catch that over all the car horns.”
Mahdi’s no idiot and gives me a look through the rear-view mirror.
“Kunt dayimaan dhakia hataa tadkhul almar’at.”
You were always a smart one until a woman walked in.
Of course he’d switch to Arabic to say that.
I laugh, embarrassed, but I make a mental note to be on top of my game. I love Mahdi like family, but it won’t do for any of the guys to see me at less than my best.
“This is serious stuff. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” His tone is more serious now—not that I blame him.
“Mahdi, I’ve taken down Tartarus before. It’s dangerous, but it’s important. We’ll be fine.”
I get another look in the mirror; it’s one I’ve seen before, and I know now that it wasn’t Tartarus that he was talking about. I look over at Dani, who’s half listening and half sightseeing, and look back to him with a nod.
“I’m sure.”
“Good. Now, do you like Turkish coffee, Miss Robinson?”
“Love it,” Dani answers as her attention turns inward to the vehicle completely.
“Good, good! Because I’ve found you two a private loft in his favorite part of town. There’s a wonderful coffee shop around the corner. Not to mention, the guy who runs it is a good friend.”
“I look forward to it,” she says, flashing a smile. “But how do you know Jackal’s favorite part of town? You guys go back a long way?”
“My dear, we are, as your expression says, ‘thick as thieves.’ Pardon my pun, but we do go back a very long way. I met this guy when he was just a little jackal pup on the streets of Cairo.”
“Oh. This is a story I’m excited to hear,” she says.
Dani’s sexy little smile is even sexier when she thinks she’s about to find something out. It’s infuriating though.
“It’s an exciting story!” Mahdi agrees. “Did you know it was I who named him Jackal?”
Oh come on! A man has to have some mystery.
I interrupt before this all goes too far. She’s already heard most of my sob-story anyway.
“So—you got us a place, Mahdi?”
“The best. Close to everything, secure, great views, and, of course, private.”
Is that a wink? Did he really just wink?
“And a car. Something a little nicer than this. But not too nice. We don’t want to draw attention to you.”
We’re hitting central Istanbul now. The smells are intense and varied; spice markets, shisha, tea, meat, honey, and baking are all hitting my nose.
God, I love the Middle East.
Beautiful city with a beautiful woman…what more could I want?
Oh that’s right—to not be tangled up with one of the most terrifying group of mercenaries on the planet. Again.
I’m jolted out of my reverie as we arrive at our destination. We’re pulling into an underground car park in what looked like a charming, turn-of-the-century Istanbul building.
Mahdi’s insisting on grabbing our bags, all the while singing to himself again, and taking us through a series of complicated security checks to an elevator.
“There’s a good restaurant here. A waiter will come to give you your car keys. You’ll find the car a few blocks from your apartment. I’ve sent the encrypted address to you already. All the usual tricks.”
He’s right; the restaurant is beautiful. Top-floor views of all the domes of Istanbul. Perks like this are the reason I gave up the straight-and-narrow.
I notice Dani noticing the view. And I wonder if she notices me watching her ass. Even in that floor-length disguise dress, she’s something else.
Mahdi rings off a list of new numbers for his men on the ground. Unsuccessful in convincing us to take a night off to go to the Opera with him, he kisses us both on the cheek and then he’s gone.
When I turn around, Dani is standing very close and looking straight at me.
Her smile is cheeky but also soft and sincere. Some of her hair is escaping out of her scarf, and I stride over to fold it behind her ear.
She grabs my hand and playfully nips my finger.
“Well Mr. Jackal-pup—I’m impressed.”
Chapter 25
Danielle
I’m beginning to wonder why I’ve never reached out to Janus sooner.
I know, deep down, it was probably pride. But if I had known about how well connected he was like I do now, I would have swallowed that pride a whole lot sooner.
It never hurts to have a large network, especially when they’re not the kind of people you can look up on LinkedIn. And it never ever hurts to know somebody who can get his own chartered jet.
Of course, I always know that Janus has contacts of his own. After all, we only met due to a mutual connection back when I hired him for South Sudan.
But I never imagined the extent of his network would go this far.
I’m sure that between the two of us, we could have contacts at least in every city that we go to, or at least every country.
Janus’ network has so much untapped potential; he can travel from city to city at the drop of a dime and find out information on damn nearly anyone, thanks to his friend, Leviathan.
I wonder for a moment if that was how Janus knew where to find me in Athens and how he knew exactly what hotel room I was staying in.
It’s almost scary to think that Janus knows a person who could access my entire online presence. But I can trust him, and I can trust Janus to look out for me. He tailed me through the streets of Athens when I went to meet with Pandora, so I know that he cares about me even when he said he didn’t.
I miss having that kind of connection with someone in my life.
Being an investigative journalist—especially when you’re a woman in a male dominated industry—you get used to feeling like you can only rely on yourself. Usually, it’s for good reason that I aim to uncover horrible atrocities, and in doing so, I piss off some very powerful people.
I can deal with that fire coming down on my own head, but if I knew I’d hurt someone else because of my quest for the truth, I don’t know how I’d be able to take that.
As we drove through the streets of Istanbul, I’m reminded that Janus can take care of himself. He’s not the kind of man whose hand I’d need to hold as I gently lead him through my dangerous life.
I wouldn’t have to leave him at home, either. I’ve lost count of the number of boyfriends that I’ve had to leave behind in New York, only to find them in another woman’s bed before my plane even lands.
But with Janus by my side, I know that we could do anything. This trafficking ring could be just the beginning—he’s the perfect ally and resource.
“I’m beginning to wonder, Janus, what else you’re hiding from me.”
“Yeah? Why don’t you tell me your suspicions, and I’ll say whether you’r
e hot or cold?”
“Oh please. We both know that I’m hot.”
Janus tears his eyes from the horizon for a second to look at me and smirk.
I shuffle in my chair and find my mind slipping back to the intense sex we’d just had on the plane. I wonder if I’ll be able to get a repeat performance once we finish settling in here.
“But seriously Janus, you could’ve told me about all these contacts you have sooner. We could’ve used them.”
“We are using them, Dani. My friends have other lives than just waiting around for me to ask for favors.”
“I know, I know. I can’t help it. We’re just making so much progress on this story, and we’re one step closer to helping those refugees—”
“And you think it’s sexy that I’m not just some dumb bodyguard for hire.”
“Oh, no, you were sexy as just some dumb bodyguard.” I tease and shift in my seat so that I’m leaning towards him slightly. “But now you’ve got intrigue. You’ve got mystery. Are you sure you’re not James Bond with your fancy private planes and your very own ‘Q’ at the end of the phone?”
“I see what it is now, Dani,” Janus chuckles. “You’ve had one taste of the mile-high club, and now you’re itching to go back.”
Well, damn. He’s got me there.
“I’ll take that silence as a ‘yes.’”
He chuckles again and moves across the room. He kneels down before me and slides his hands along my thighs. His mischievous grin does nothing to distract me this time around—at least, not completely.
“But what else haven’t you told me, Janus?”
He pauses for a moment. “I haven’t told you that I have a third nipple.”
I roll my eyes. “If you had a third nipple, I would most definitely have found it by now.”
“Don’t you want to have another look?”
“Maybe once we finish getting settled.” I wink at him. “What else do I need to know?”
“That Arsenal is on the way to the top of the league table.”
“What’s that got to do with anything? It’s not as though soccer has anything on football.”
“Football. Actual football. Not that garbage you Yanks call football,” Janus smiles and rolls his eyes as he always did whenever I make fun of his beloved sport. “When Arsenal beat Man-U, and I collect the winnings from a friend of mine, I won’t be taking you out to dinner with them now.”
I know he doesn’t mean that. Janus knows that after dinner, I’m going to want dessert. And he knows how I like my dessert.
“And this friend of yours, what’s their particular talent?”
“He’s got a bad taste in football teams.”
“Soccer teams.”
“Hey now, Dani, we invented the sport. It’s not my fault that your country has mistaken football for a coward’s version of rugby.”
“Coward’s?”
“You heard me.”
Janus smiles again, enjoying the rise he’s gotten out of me with that one well-placed comment.
“You think your football players are so tough behind all that padding. It’s not truly a rough sport until you’ve begun to develop cauliflower ears.”
I look at Janus, momentarily insulted—or at least, that’s what I want him to believe. I pretend to huff and turn away from him, but I angle my thighs and ass to remind him what he’s missing out if I was actually mad.
“Are you really going to be like that?”
I feel Janus’ hand slip along my thighs again, his fingers gently tracing against my upper thigh and across the underside of my ass. I keep pouting and say nothing, even though each gentle touch of his fingers sets my skin alight.
“If you wanted some rough play, Dani, you should have just asked for it on the plane.”
He’s so maddening, so beautifully and perfectly maddening. I’ve always admired it when a man could keep up with me without first trying to make me slow down, and Janus seems to be able to do just that.
I really do hope that our time together won’t end after we finish exposing and shutting down this trafficking ring. I couldn’t bare it if I lose Janus again, and we ended with bad blood between us.
I’m not looking for a relationship where I spend every waking moment with the man. I don’t want to have to sacrifice my job or ask him to do the same, so that we can always be together. But I would like it if, whenever we were in the same city, we could see each other—hook up maybe.
Being friends with benefits with Janus O’Connell sounds like something that would be every girl’s dream.
And I’ve always been fond of making my dreams a reality.
Janus gets up from his place before me and strolls across the room to where our bags are sitting.
I get up from my chair and take another glance around our new headquarters.
It’s a quiet, almost suburban style apartment. It’s neither too opulent nor too poor to attract anyone’s attention if we were, by any chance, being followed. The neighborhood looked quiet too—perfect for keeping a low-profile in.
Janus carries our bags through the loft—which almost seems to be very bare and decorated with only the essentials—to the bedroom. When he returns, he collapses down onto the sofa, and I sit down beside him.
I shuffle to move closer and lean my head against his chest.
“So—let’s go take down a human trafficking ring.”
Chapter 26
Janus
I’m starting to think this girl is playing me. Again.
Sure, she’s smiling and rubbing her arm against mine. And yes, the way that dress clings to her while she walks is sexy as hell—but she needs to stop asking about Mahdi.
This isn’t what we agreed on. She does the writing, I make everything happen. She doesn’t need to know how everything happens.
In fact, it’s better for her if she doesn’t, and she knows that.
She needs to be kept in the dark. She needs plausible deniability.
Why so many questions and why so quickly?
I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but it’s a bit late for that.
I briskly turn a corner, feeling cobblestones under my feet, as she’s asking, innocently enough, “But what exactly does Mahdi do?”
I try to keep my voice calm, but I pick up the pace to shake some of the frustration and bitterness off.
A tiny bit of me is pleased to see that she’s racing to catch up with me and still stay elegant in that dress. A larger part of me is yelling at me to calm down; she’s always been curious.
Nobody has sex like the sex we’ve had just to get information.
She saves people—she’s not that cold.
You’re losing your grip, Jackal. Pull yourself together man!
“He makes things happen. He opens doors, that’s all you need to know,” I say as I try to keep the frustration out of my voice.
“But don't you see, Jackal? You have these great resources. That’s why I hired you. You make things happen. We can use them.”
Use them? These people are my family. My unorthodox, scoundrel family. I can’t use them.
I angrily turn another corner. The river splashes out underneath us, impossibly blue, and on the other side is Asia.
I can smell shisha and spiced tea, and I want to take her by the hand and show her a little of the softer side of the Middle East.
Janus O’Connell can forge a mean signature, but he can also recite some of the best Arabic and Farsi poems by heart.
Speaking of hearts. What’s this girl trying to do with mine?
Have I been stupid again?
Why does she want to use my friends? And why now all of the sudden?
“Dani, we’re not using them. You didn’t hire the brotherhood, you hired me. And we could use them at my discretion. That’s the deal.”
She’s stopped still, and she’s shaking her head now. A little frown on her perfect lips.
I want to kiss it off.
I want to walk away befo
re she gets me in any deeper.
Oh god. Was I dumb enough to put myself in Tartarus’s path again, just to be used by some beautiful woman who’s standing in front of me, reaching for my face.
I may be losing my cool and my professionalism, but I’m still a professional scoundrel, and I notice that people are starting to look.
Is it because a lover’s tiff is always intriguing? Is it her perfect silhouette? Or is it what I suspect, that we’ve been found already?
A tourist takes a photograph in our direction.
I lean in close to her ear. “It’s not safe here. We need to move to where it’s louder.”
We walk in silence for a few blocks, feeling the heat of her skin so close to mine is nearly torturous, and we hit the tramline.
I scan the crowd for any kind of threats, and I notice that she does, too.
She may be manipulative, but she’s as smart as she is hot.
“Janus, what I’m trying to say is that...well...I think we could be a good team,” she reaches for my face, and this time I don’t stop her.
The evening is hot and clammy as it is, but the contact of our skin is hotter and as always, terrifyingly electric.
“Dani, I have a team. And we protect each other. You don’t need their information. You don’t need to ask them favors. I’ll cover what needs covering.”
She nods solemnly, hand still on my face and her dark eyes serious as mine.
“I know you’ve got my back, and I know you’ll do your job well. That’s no question. But what I’m saying is that we could really change things here. I know you want to make things better. I know you want to make things better for kids like you.”
I can’t tell if she’s honest or she’s a master manipulator.
I’m losing my grip.
“No, I don’t, Dani. I want to make things better for me. This started as a job, remember? I’m not some bloody philanthropist.”
We’re standing close together, eyes deadlocked on each other.
She’s even hotter when she’s fierce.
God, I wish we were in that private loft, and I could just direct all this doubt and anger onto that beautiful body and deal with these feelings later.
I’m an international criminal mastermind, and I need to bloody-well stay on-task.