“Ahm goin’ to lock you in here now, but you should be able to get out soon.”
She slammed the door shut and dragged a chair over to wedge it beneath the doorknob. That should hold them until she got away. If she got away.
She pulled the ski mask from her head, shook out her blond hair and replaced her sunglasses. Hoisting the bag with the loot over her shoulder, she slipped from the store, keeping it locked behind her.
Her heels clicked down the sidewalk as she clutched a key chain in her hand and made for the corner. She let out a breath when she saw a blue compact car parked at a meter.
The remote Zendaris had included in the duffel unlocked the car and she slipped inside, her heart pounding unsteadily. She adjusted the rearview mirror and brushed the blond locks from her sweaty brow.
Deb pulled away from the curb. Nice and easy. No hurry. No cops were on her tail. No sirens wailed in her wake.
What did Zendaris want her to do with the jewelry? He didn’t need it. Didn’t want it. He just wanted her—her total submission. He had that. As long as he had Bobby.
But when she got out of this mess, Zendaris would pay. Unless she wound up dead or in jail.
Following the instructions to a T, she drove across the bridge to Cambridge and pulled into the parking lot of a hotel. She hadn’t noticed any cops following her, although she’d seen a couple of possible tails and had lost them.
Maybe Zendaris’s guys making sure she got to her destination.
She tilted the mirror down and fluffed up the wig. Then she wiped the lipstick from her mouth with a tissue. Not her color.
Checking in was a breeze with her fake ID and the cash Zendaris had provided.
She hitched the bag stuffed with jewels over her shoulder and made a beeline for the elevator. Once inside, she slumped against the wall and closed her eyes.
What did he have planned for her next? She’d see the fear in that poor jewelry store clerk’s eyes before she fell asleep tonight.
When the elevator jostled to a stop on her floor, Deb stepped through the doors and wandered down the hallway looking for her room. A couple passed her, arguing on their way to the elevator, and a maid emerged from one of the rooms.
Deb turned a corner and located her room number. She slid the key card in and out. Red lights blinked at her. She tried again and grasped the handle, bracing her hip against the heavy door.
A soft footfall sounded behind her on the dense carpet. She turned her head to the side. But she was too late.
Something hard and unforgiving prodded the small of her back, and a hoarse whisper grated against her ear.
“Keep moving into the room...and maybe I won’t kill you.”
Chapter Two
Deb marched in front of him, her long blond hair swaying against her stiff back.
She looked better as a redhead.
“Drop the bag and the coat, and pin your shoulders to the wall next to the bed.”
She swung around, her green eyes wide and shooting sparks. “You!”
“Do it, Deb. Right against the wall, and don’t try any funny business or you’ll be eating carpet.”
Her bag and coat fell to the floor. Two red spots formed on her cheeks and her hands clenched into fists, but she backed up to the wall, nearly stumbling in those ridiculously high heels. Who robbed a jewelry store in stilettos?
She lined up against the wall, tucking her hands behind her back. “What are you doing here?”
Beau held up his hand—the one without the gun. “Spread your legs and put your arms out to your sides.”
Her nostrils flared, and he could almost see the steam coming out of them.
She widened her stance and flattened her palms against the wall. “I’m not carrying.”
“That would be a first.”
“The gun’s in that pretty designer bag on the floor.”
He raised his brows. “At least you’re honest.” He took one step back and kicked the bag toward the open bathroom door.
With his weapon still trained on Deb, he reached out and ran his hand down one side of her body and then the other. He lightly cupped each of her breasts, and then slid his hand beneath her straight skirt.
The last time they’d done this it had been a lot more pleasant.
He whipped a plastic tie from his back pocket and twirled his finger in the air. “Turn around and place your hands behind your back.”
She complied and he grabbed her wrists with one hand, dragging his gaze away from her rounded derriere. He hadn’t bothered to tell Prospero that he’d met Deb before, but he knew he wouldn’t let this get personal. He always kept things professional—until the night he’d met her.
Once he had a firm grasp on her arm, he placed his weapon on the bed and cinched the plastic tie around her wrists. He retrieved his weapon and pulled her toward the bed until the back of her knees met the mattress. “Sit.”
She dropped to the bed, and her skirt hiked up around her thighs.
Beau shoved his gun in the back of his waistband and yanked down the hem of her skirt. Keep it professional.
“Start talking. Why are you in contact with Zendaris and why did you just rob that jewelry store? I’m assuming one is connected to the other.”
Her lush lips formed a stubborn line. “So Prospero hired Loki to track me down?”
A muscle in his jaw twitched when she used his code name. He never had told her his real name—even after the night of passion they’d shared.
“Prospero hires the best.” He hunched forward, bracing his hands on his knees. “What the hell are you doing, Deb? How did Zendaris get you, of all people, to turn?”
She scooted back on the bed, and her breasts strained against the silky material of her blouse. Her jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed—green cat eyes. They’d captivated him from the moment he’d met her at that gathering of world leaders in Zurich.
He cleared his throat. “Don’t think I’m just going to turn you over to the Boston P.D. for that armed robbery. I’m working for Prospero. You do know what Prospero does to traitors, don’t you?”
Her Adam’s apple bobbed in the delicate column of her throat. “They wouldn’t... Jack would never...”
He sliced his hand through the air and straightened to his full height. “Jack Coburn will do whatever necessary to protect the security and interests of this country.”
Sniffling, she turned her head away, tucking her cheek against her shoulder.
He’d brought Deb Sinclair to tears? That had to be a first. He’d had her moaning in his arms for one night, but nobody had ever made the first female Prospero agent cry.
Of course, it could all be a ruse.
He grabbed the silky blond strands of the wig and yanked it off her head. Her own dark auburn hair tumbled to her shoulders, catching the sunlight that flooded the room through the open curtains.
“Why’d you do it?”
She puckered her lips and blew at a few strands of hair clinging to her lips. “What are they paying you? I’ll give you half of my haul.”
Beau reached forward and she flinched, squeezing her eyes shut. Did she really think he’d hit her?
He brushed the hair from her face, his palm making contact with her smooth skin. He snatched his hand away before the gesture turned into a caress.
Why in the hell did he think he could keep this impersonal? That night with Deb had rocked his world. He’d never forgotten it, or her.
“Make this easy on yourself, Deb. Was it money? I know you never had much growing up. Jack might even understand that motivation. Come clean and give them what you have on Zendaris.”
A little smile played across her mouth. “You never told them, did you?”
Warmth burned in his chest and he crossed hi
s arms. “This isn’t about me. You’re the one with a bag full of stolen jewels.”
She threw back her head and laughed so hard her shoulders shook. She fell back on the bed and laughed at the ceiling until tears rolled into her ears.
When she sat up, little black streaks smudged her cheeks. “Loki never told Prospero he bedded the prey, did he?”
“It’s irrelevant.” Beau ground his teeth together, knowing damned well it wasn’t irrelevant.
“Right.” She wrinkled her nose and sniffed. “I’m sure Jack wouldn’t have hired the great Loki if he’d known his assassin had already gotten intimate with the target.”
“That was a long time ago, and I agreed to take the assignment before I knew you were the quarry.”
“But once you found out I was the...quarry...you should’ve come clean. Don’t you think so, Loki?” She blinked and raised one dark eyebrow. “I bet you enjoyed that pat-down. Did it bring back fond memories?”
Her emerald gaze dropped below his belt. “Did it excite you?”
He turned his back on her with the blood running hot in his veins. He snagged the purse by the handle and dumped its contents on the carpet at Deb’s feet.
The .45 thudded to the floor—not Deb’s usual weapon. As he recalled, she preferred a Glock. Shoes tumbled out along with a ski mask and a tangle of jewelry.
Why would she want this stuff? She’d had a tough life as a kid. Maybe this satisfied some deep psychological need within her. And what did it all have to do with Zendaris?
Could Prospero be wrong? There had been the slimmest of leads linking Deb to Zendaris—that and the fact that she’d dropped below the radar.
Maybe her behavior signaled some kind of breakdown and not a traitorous move to Zendaris’s camp.
He ran his fingers through the gems. “Why’d you steal this jewelry, Deb?”
She shrugged and the top button of her blouse popped open. “I wanted it.”
“Why are you in contact with Zendaris?” Come on, Deb. Just deny it.
Yawning, she flopped back onto the bed.
He drove his fist into the pile of jewelry and hopped onto the bed, his knees straddling her hips, his hands on either side of her head. “Tell me what’s going on.”
She dropped her dark lashes, still long and lush without the mascara her tears of laughter had washed away. “I’m not telling you anything.”
He blew out an exasperated breath, which stirred the tendrils of her hair at her forehead. “I’m taking you in, Deb.”
Her body stiffened beneath him, and her eyes flew open. “T-to Prospero?”
“You’re their monster. They can deal with you.”
She bit her bottom lip but not before he saw it tremble.
“I’ll tell them everything, Loki. I’ll tell them how you seduced me that night when you were supposed to be guarding the emir’s wife.”
“Ooh, and you promised you wouldn’t kiss and tell.”
“I mean it. I’ll tell them how we made love all night long and while you were lying there, sated and naked and conked out, I went through your things. You compromised your position and the security of the people you were supposed to be protecting.”
And I’d do it all again for one more night with you.
He stared into her eyes, bright with unshed tears. “It’s your word against mine, Deb.”
“I—I’ll ruin your reputation. I’ll destroy you.”
Tough words, but her voice quavered and cracked when she delivered them.
“Maybe I don’t care. Maybe it’s time for Loki to die anyway.”
She squirmed beneath him and started to bend one of her knees for a well-aimed shot between his legs.
He dropped on top of her, pressing his frame along every line of hers as she huffed out a sigh. Her soft breasts smooshed against his chest. Her sweet scent invaded his pores.
He wanted her, even now. He wanted her traitorous lips against his. He wanted to take her lying tongue into his mouth. He wanted her deceiving hands on his body.
She thrashed from side to side. It only inflamed his desire.
He rolled from her body and stood by the side of the bed, hovering over her. “Sit up.”
“That’s what I was trying to do before you pinned me.”
“You were trying to knee me in the groin.”
“A girl has to protect herself.” She struggled to a sitting position. “You’d better think long and hard about turning me in, Loki. I’ll bring you down with me.”
“What I did was child’s play compared to your crimes.” He put more distance between them and her sweet scent that lured him to craziness. “Besides, your reputation will be so sullied, I can claim that you seduced and drugged me. Why not? Two can play hardball, sweetheart.”
“I don’t want to play hardball.”
She fluttered her eyelashes in an amateur attempt at flirtation, which fell flat. The Deb Sinclair he knew didn’t flirt like some simpering college girl. The Deb Sinclair he knew flirted like a woman—bold, challenging, sexy as hell.
“Let me go, Loki. Stealing a few jewels is not endangering national security. Besides, what do you care about that? You’ve always gone to the highest bidder and damn the torpedoes.”
“I think those claims about me have been greatly exaggerated—maybe even by me. Prospero hired me to do a job, and I’m going to do it. This is Jack Coburn we’re talking about. Nobody betrays Jack Coburn, and you’re about to find out why.”
“He doesn’t have to know.” She lifted her shoulder to rub the edge of her jaw against it. “Tell him I got away, that you couldn’t find me at all. I’m a Prospero agent. That won’t be too hard for him to believe.”
“And I’m Loki. It’ll be hard to believe I didn’t run you to ground.”
“Nice analogy.” She closed her eyes and heaved out a sigh. “Please. I’m begging you. Th-this is not what it seems. Somebody’s life depends on this—on my betrayal or at least the appearance of my betrayal.”
Narrowing his eyes, he rubbed his knuckles against the stubble on his chin. She’d shifted tactics. “Your life? Zendaris has threatened to kill the members of Prospero Team Three several times over. He’s never gotten the chance.”
“Not my life. Much worse than that.”
He and Deb had not only had an intense physical connection that night three years ago. When they weren’t exploring each other’s bodies, they were exploring each other’s minds. She’d told him the only family she’d had was the old man who had taken her in as a rebellious teen. Was Zendaris threatening him?
“Your foster father?”
“Robert died last year.” A single tear rolled down her cheek, and his heart lurched.
Was she playing him?
He set his jaw and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Sorry to hear it, but if not Robert, who? You told me you had no family other than Robert.”
She jerked her head up. “You remembered that?”
He remembered every detail of that night—the musky scent of her perfume, the smooth curves of her body, the low throatiness of her laugh and the taste of her. Sometimes at night that taste still lingered on his tongue.
He squared his shoulders. “I do, so don’t try to play some sob story off on me.”
“It’s not a story, Loki. Zendaris is holding someone I love more than life itself.”
A knife twisted in his gut—a husband. Deb had gotten married. And why not? Their connection had been almost three years ago—a one-night stand. Why would that mean anything to her?
He nodded. “You’re married.”
“No.” She shook her head from side to side so vehemently that her hair slipped over one shoulder and then the other. “I’m not talking about a husband. I’m talking about my son. Zendaris kidnapped my
son, Bobby. And if I don’t do exactly what he tells me to do, he’ll kill him.”
Chapter Three
Much worse than a husband. Husbands could disappear. Kids stayed with you forever.
That one-night stand had meant less to her than he thought. She must’ve left him and run to the arms of some other lover.
Unless she was lying. What better way to get off the hook than to play the kid card?
His sharp laugh cut through the confusion. “You’re good, Deb. I have to give you that. You’re a pro.”
“Can you unbind my wrists?” She raised her arms behind her. “I didn’t expect you to believe me...at first.”
He strolled to the minibar and snatched a bottle of water from the fridge. He downed half of it in one gulp. He didn’t want her to see that she’d gotten to him for a minute.
“Unbind you so you can go for your gun? Claw my face off? Make a run for it?”
Her mouth curved up on one side. “You’re Loki. I’m not going anywhere. We both know that.”
“I’m impervious to flattery.”
“Since when?” She tipped her chin at the floor where he’d scattered the contents of her bag. “Then get my wallet. I have a picture of my son.”
He wished she’d stop saying that—it sounded so permanent. He slammed the plastic bottle on the credenza. Swooping down, he scooped up the wallet and flipped to the plastic inserts.
A teenaged Deb smiled at him, leaning over a chair, her arms around a grizzled African-American man—Robert, the man who’d taken her in after she’d run away from foster care. He flipped to the next picture and froze.
A towheaded toddler grinned while clutching the handlebars of a red tricycle. He flicked the edge of the picture. The kid didn’t even look like her. “This doesn’t prove anything.”
“Why would I carry a picture of a boy in my wallet? You know I don’t have any family, no nephews.”
“Doesn’t prove anything. Some wallets come with pictures already inserted. Is he even yours?”
“Look at the next picture.”
Harlequin Intrigue November 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2 Page 22