Behind Closed Doors m&f-1

by Shannon McKenna

  Seth's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He made no comment.

  Her mouth tightened as she thought of the interview with Bill Haley. “The guy wasn't very encouraging,” she said. “He basically told me to keep my head down and be a good girl.”

  “That was damn good advice,” Seth said. “Say the word, and I'll start up this motor and get you the hell away from here. For good.”

  Raine closed her eyes and let herself imagine it, for one wistful, weary moment She shook her head. “No. The dreams will never stop if I run. I'll spend some time with Victor tomorrow, and see what happens. He wants to show me his collection. Whatever that is.”

  Seth stroked the slick taffeta that covered her bottom, a remote, calculating look in his eyes. “His collection? Is that so?”

  She nodded, steadying herself on his shoulders. Exhaustion rolled over her, and she swayed closer. He pulled her gentry down until she was perched on his lap, his arms clasped around her waist.

  She should be furious with him. He had behaved very badly but now he was nuzzling her bosom and kissing her neck, the slick, seductive bastard. She was too tired and dizzy to protest. She leaned against him, soaking up his sustaining heat. An idea came to her.

  “Seth?” she whispered.

  "Hmm?” He kissed the top of one of her breasts, then the other, then buried his face in her cleavage. “What?”

  “I was wondering if you could... help me.”

  “Help you what?” His head lifted. He frowned at her.

  “Garner information,” she said softly. “I'm just blundering along. I know that you have a lot of experience in—in—”

  “Sneaking around in the dark? Engaging in morally questionable activities to find out things that are none of my goddamn business?”

  She nodded eagerly. “Exactly. I could really use some pointers”

  He nuzzled her shoulder. She could actually feel the quality of his concentration, buzzing like electricity as he pondered her request. The boat rocked gently back and forth like a cradle as she waited. Water lapped against it in a slow, gurgling rhythm that measured his silence.

  He looked up. “I'll do it. But you have to do something for me.”

  Heat swept up into her face. He let out a harsh laugh. “No, sweetheart. Not what you're thinking. I'll have that no matter what deal we cut. We don't negotiate with that coin.

  Got it?”

  She nodded, waiting for the blush to subside before she dared to speak. “What is it that you want from me, then?” she ventured timidly.

  His hand slid over her bare back, stroking her as if she were a wild animal that might bolt. “A favor. You said Victor wants to show you his collection tomorrow, right?”

  Butterflies began to flutter in her belly. “Yes,” she said slowly. “Why?”

  “There's an item in that collection that I want to track. I don't want to steal anything. I just want to gather information.”

  Things clicked quietly into place, and she acknowledged with her conscious mind what she had sensed from the beginning. “It's just like I thought,” she said softly. “You're not here to upgrade Lazar's inventory system, are you, Seth? You've had your own agenda all along.”

  His face was expressionless. He didn't try to hold her when she slid off his lap and backed away. “Do you want my help or not, Raine?”

  She hated the cold, implacable tone in his voice, but she was lost, and he was the only path she could see. “Yes,” she whispered.

  “What I want from you is simple. I want you to plant a tracking device on one of the items in Victor's collection. The transmitter is tiny, about the size of a grain of rice. No big deal.”

  She plucked the stole off the floor and wrapped it around herself, shivering. “Why can't you just sneak in and plant it yourself?”

  His lips twitched. “I'm good, but I'm not that good. That vault is a steel-reinforced concrete armored room with ultrasonic Doppler and passive infrared motion detectors, just for starters. I could probably pull it off, but not without a lot of planning. And I'm on a tight schedule.”

  She gulped. “A tight schedule for what?”

  “Are you up to it?”

  She wobbled on her spike heels, and steadied herself against the table. “You want me to... plant a tracking device,” she repeated softly. “But why? What's the item that you want to track?”

  “Is that a yes?”

  She sank down on the bench opposite him and crumpled a handful of peacock blue taffeta anxiously in both hands. “I don't know if I could pull a thing like that off,” she told him, with utter sincerity. “I'm not very slick or devious, and I'm not a very good liar.”

  “You're learning, babe. You're learning every day.”

  His words stung, but when she looked into his face, she saw no mockery or irony at all. He looked somber and watchful.

  It occurred to her that if she were to say no, she could find herself in more serious trouble than she had ever imagined. Raine forced herself to examine that ugly possibility. She pushed the thought away.

  She might be fooling herself, but her deepest instincts told her that Seth would never hurt her. At least not intentionally. And if this was the devil's bargain that fate saw fit to offer her, fine. She would take it, and be grateful. She took a deep breath. “OK. Ill do it.”

  He nodded. “Good. Listen carefully, because we're not going over this again after we leave the boat It's a Walther PPK pistol. It might be in a carrying case, it might be in a plastic bag, in which case it'll be harder to plant the transmitter. Improvise if you can. If you can't, you can't. Don't take stupid risks. If it's not smooth and simple, let it go.” “What's special about this pistol?” “It's the murder weapon in the Corazon case.” Her mouth dropped open. “But—oh, no. Oh God. What is Victor doing with a thing like that?”

  A grim smile curved Seth's mouth. “That, sweetheart, is a question that a whole lot of people would love to have the answer to. I'm not one of them, though.”

  “No?”

  He shook his head. “I don't give a shit how he got it or why he wanted it. All I want is to know where it goes from here. Not one word of this once we're off this boat, Raine. It's like we never mentioned it.”

  “I understand,” she said. “Why do you want to track this thing?”

  “Don't worry about it, babe “

  She bristled like an offended cat, “Pd rather you snap at me than condescend to me.”

  “Fine. Ill bear that in mind the next time you ask for information that's completely irrelevant and useless to you.”

  “You don't trust me at all, do you, Seth?” she challenged him. “You know all my secrets, but you won't give one inch with your own.”

  His eyes glittered at her, implacable. “Live with it. You want to take Victor down? Then do as I say, and don't ask questions. Because you need help, sweetheart. You are a walking disaster on your own.”

  Her face reddened, and she tore her gaze away, stung. She wanted so badly for him to trust her, and it was a stupid, useless, hopeless wish. She huddled into her stole. “Now what?”

  His eyes slid down her body, lingering on her breasts. “Victor invited me to this party to entertain you.” He grabbed her wrists and tugged her gentry to her feet. “I want to fulfill my function.”

  She sighed. “Seth, are you capable of thinking about anything besides sex for more than thirty seconds at a time?”

  “I used to be,” he said ruefully. He sank to his knees and lifted the billowing skirt. The rough, call used places on his palms snagged and caught at her delicate hose as he swept his warm hands up her thighs. “My concentration skills used to be unbelievable. You trashed them, Raine. So make use of what's left of me. You might as well.”

  She threaded all of her fingers into the thick, silky brush of his hair, quivering as he put his hand between her legs. He stroked her lace-shielded mound in a feather-light, teasing touch.

  “Let's seal our bargain right here,” he suggested. “You won't be cold
when I'm done with you. You'll be hotter than hell. All that fancy makeup will melt off, and your hair will fall down, and you won't even remember what happened to your underwear.”

  She stared into his eyes, resisting the dark magic of his voice. In this cold, manipulative mood, she sensed that he wouldn't yield his self-control to her for a second. He probably wouldn't even bother to take off his clothes. She would be the naked one who ended up in a trembling, sobbing heap. She wanted him, but on her own terms. She had to change this unbalanced power dynamic. For his sake and hers.

  “Not here,” she said, in a cool, sharp voice.

  His fingers stopped in their probing caress. “Why not?”

  “I don't want it like this. On the floor, or standing up. I like my comforts,” she said haughtily.

  His eyes narrowed. “Excuse me, princess.”

  She clutched the stole around herself, shivering. “Don't call me that unless you mean it,” she snapped. “My room up in the tower has a kingsize four-poster bed. Hand-embroidered linens, cashmere blankets and a white lace coverlet.”

  He grunted. “Cool. Guys like me go nuts for white lace coverlets.”

  He reached around for the leather jacket that was hanging on a hook, and she took the opportunity to scoop the broken pendant swiftly into her hand. She kept it hidden when he turned back, careful not to threaten the fragile new equilibrium between them. He draped the jacket over her shoulders and wrapped his arms around her. She huddled against him, scrabbling until she found an inside pocket.

  She slipped it into the pocket and pulled the zipper shut.

  No matter what Victor might or might not be guilty of, that fiery opal was her only link to her grandmother. She'd be damned if she would throw it away just to placate Seth. This was the opening move in her grand campaign to stop being pushed around. By everyone.

  Chapter 17

  The walk back up to the house was utterly silent He clasped her shoulders, his mind racing with the effort to justify his crazy impulse. It was an incredible gamble, but irresistible. The symmetry of it felt so right; that this chance should present itself to him just in time, and by Victor's own flesh and blood. Poetic. His instincts screamed to seize the moment, get on with it, so he could find out once and for all if there was something on the other side or not. And he wasn't misleading Raine by promising to help, either. If he got his revenge, by definition she would have hers, too. The desired end result for both of them was the same. He could close this thing, and she could finally be safe.

  Yeah, right. Pitting her against Lazar and Novak was one hell of a way to keep her safe. Or himself, either, for that matter. He might've just signed his own death warrant, but what the hell. If she couldn't be trusted, then she didn't need rescuing anyway, and he was used to thinking of himself as a dead man.

  She led him up a spiral staircase though he could barely see in the stygian darkness. At the door, he pushed her behind him and peered in, scanning the place carefully before he let her enter.

  He knew that this house was full of eyes and ears, but even if he hadn't known, he would have sensed them. He could actually feel a camera’s cold, unblinking gaze against his skin.

  He locked the door, opened his bag and mounted the portable squealer onto the door frame. One of Ream's bored-on-his-coffee-break inventions, handy when you wanted privacy. He pulled out the probe monitor, and began to methodically sweep the walls.

  Raine sat down on the bed. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Sweeping for bugs.” He grabbed a fragile-looking antique chair and climbed onto it, hoping it would bear his weight.

  Her eyes widened. “You think that—”

  “I don't think. I know. That's why he invited me here. He wants to watch us, and probably film us. For posterity.”

  “I don't believe that!”

  Under other circumstances, he would have laughed at the prim horror in her voice, but he was too concentrated on his task. “Victor likes to watch,” he said bluntly. “And I know exactly how much money he's willing to spend on toys like this.”

  He found the first bug in the ceiling fan: remote 399-030 MHz free space transmitter. There was another in the track lighting. There was a 490-mm modulated sodium optical bug in one of the overhead lightbulbs. There were four pinholes spaced out high in the wall with video cameras mounted behind the cedar paneling, impossible to get to without a hammer or an axe. He pulled a stick of gum out of his pocket, chewed it until it was soft, and plugged up the holes.

  He used the VLF probe function to test for carrier current signals, of which he found two—the clock and one of the bedside lamps. He dismantled them both. Lazar obviously believed in overkill.

  At the risk of seeming paranoid, he took out multifunction thermal imaging goggles, fitted a 99% obscuration IR filter and switched on the night vision function to scan for laser diode infrared emitters. There were two. That devious bastard.

  He dismantled those, and turned around slowly in the middle of the room for a long time, scanning the walls and ceilings. Essentially, he was feeling around with his own internal antenna, using pure instinct.

  Negative. Unless he was losing his touch, the room was clean.

  He turned back to Raine, and held out a bristling handful of dismantled surveillance gadgets. “There's a lot you don't know about your precious uncle, princess.”

  “Don't call me that,” she said sharply. “You found them, right? We'll have our privacy. So there's no harm done.” She looked around at the dismembered lamp, the gutted clock. Her face convulsed, and she dropped it into her hands, shoulders heaving with silent laughter.

  “What's so goddamn funny?” he demanded.

  She lifted her face. Bright spots of red glowed in her cheeks. “Everything. This place is surreal. I feel like Alice down the rabbit hole.”

  “I'm glad you're amused,” he growled.

  Her hands dropped to her lap. “I don't see why you're so wound up.” There was a hysterical tremor in her voice. “Everyone's family has a”—she choked back a giggle—”a problematic uncle.”

  “Problematic? You call this problematic? “ He opened his hand and let the stuff drop, clattering across the parquet floor.

  Raine threw up her hands, shaking with helpless laughter. “I'm just trying to cope, Seth. If you'd make an effort to do the same, I would really appreciate it. Try and look on the situation as ... a test.”

  He let out an ironic grunt. “Like the. underground fantasy comics I used to read when I was a kid? I'm in the castle of the evil sorcerer king. If I solve the riddle, I get to fuck the beautiful princess. If I don't, I get fed to the dragon, chunk by bloody chunk.”

  She shook her head, regal and aloof. “No, you tasteless clod. You get to marry the beautiful princess, and live happily ever after with her”

  He stiffened, and his ears started to buzz. “Oh,” he said stupidly, staring at her. He swallowed. “So that's how the story goes?”

  “Yes. Standard fairy-tale format. Knights errant aren't usually crass, rude, suspicious, sexually obsessed commitment-phobes.”

  “I must've read the wrong comics when I was a kid.” He stared at her, hypnotized by the way the bedside lamp back-lit the wisps that had finally begun to escape from her hairdo, illuminating them like a delicate golden crown. “I guess if the guy's gone to all that trouble to slay the dragon and solve the riddle for that princess, then he's ready to settle down in a split-level suburban home with her.”

  “Having normalcy fantasies again, Seth?” she asked sweetly.

  The rosy lamp painted her with smudgy velvet shadows. He couldn't wait another second to lick and nuzzle every single sweet curve. “Fuck normal,” he said. “I solved the riddle and I want my prize. Get that dress off, your Highness. Let me see what I've won.”

  She rose to her feet and backed away. “Wait a minute,

  Seth.”

  He trapped her against the cedar paneling, loving the way the corset crammed her breasts together and off
ered them up to his eyes like luscious fruit, “Why wait? I was summoned to service you, right? Let's play a sexy game, Raine. You get to be the beautiful, pampered niece of a shady multimillionaire, and I get to be the brainless, muscle-bound stud with a perpetually hard cock who's been summoned to the island hideaway to fulfill her every erotic whim. What do you say?”

  She splayed her hands against his chest, but not to push him away ... more as if she wanted to assure herself that he was real. She licked her lips, her eyes glowing with catlike interest. “I'd say the setup is kind of trashy and unrealistic, but it has possibilities.”

  He stroked the tops of her breasts tenderly with his fingertips. “Sounds like the plot of an awesome porno flick.”

  Her soft mouth tightened. “I wouldn't know. I don't watch that kind of thing.”

  The Miss Priss tone bugged him, and he yanked the bottom of her corset again. “Oh, no? Too nasty for you, your Highness?” he crooned.

  She twisted and slapped his hands away. “Don't,” she said sharply. “Your mean streak is showing, and it's making me angry. Get that sleazy tone out of your voice and wipe that dirty look off your face, or I'm not playing.”

  Her words hung in the air. His hands dropped to his sides. He felt almost as abashed as he was aroused. “Weird,” he muttered.

  “What's weird?” Her face was wary.

  “I just found out something kinky about myself. Your tough-talking bitch goddess persona really turns me on. I'm as hard as steel.” He seized her slender hand and placed it upon the aching bulge in the front of his pants. “Have pity on me,” he murmured, with a coaxing grin. “I'm desperate. I'll be good. I'll be nice. I'll do anything.”

  She drew in a jerky breath, half-laughing, and measured him with her fingertips through the fabric of his pants. “That's fortunate, considering what I have in mind.”

  “Want to play out my fantasy?” he asked eagerly.

  She slid from between him and the wall. “I've got a better one.”

  A huge grin took over his face. “By all means, let's hear it.”