by Michele Hauf
“Damn right.”
“But…” He looked out the window and a wince crimped his mouth.
Whatever he wasn’t saying seemed to weigh on him heavily. A thoughtful man? Saskia wasn’t sure how to handle that. She was more a man in that she couldn’t deal with other people’s feelings all that much. Give her a quickie, and a relationship focused around good, satisfying sex, and she was happy. Emotions? Who needed all that baggage?
Oh, Jack, you’re such a complicated bull.
And complicated had never before turned her eye.
“Right.” She stood and wandered toward the bedrooms. “Got to make that run to pick up something downtown. You want to tag along?”
She wasn’t sure why she’d asked, but for some reason having muscle along on the poison pickup seemed like a good idea.
“You inviting me for my pleasant personality or my fists?” he called after her.
“Both!”
Chapter 8
“I know this guy,” Saskia said as they navigated the busy downtown sidewalks. She had parked the car blocks from their destination.
Jack decided the city was much like London, except cleaner, not quite so much of a bustle, and more cosmopolitan. More orderly, even. Okay, not at all like London. But it was city-like in a manner he hadn’t expected. He’d expected tundra and howling ice winds sheering the flesh from his face. The sun was shining today and thanks to the surrounding buildings blocking the wind, he wasn’t even shivering. He had to mark that as a good thing.
“By know,” he asked, “do you mean in the sense that you’ve had sex with him without him realizing it was you?”
“You’re not going to ever get over that one, are you?”
“Not sure. It was a new one for me. Not too many times a person has managed to get the jump on Jack Angelo.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“I meant it as such.” Moving aside to allow a woman on snowshoes and wielding hiking poles to walk by, Jack marveled at the eclectic crowd. “So. What’s the pickup? Is it for the job?”
“Yes, and no. Clive asked me to get it for him. I can’t tell you what it is. It’s for some deal he’s working on the side. Didn’t give me details.”
“He’s got quite the control over you. Surprising.”
She cast a glance at him, from under a sleek blond wig, that admonished while it also accepted. “I work well with others, and there’s nothing wrong with that. A team player, is that what it’s called?”
“Always a good attribute when working on a bank job. Uh, what exactly is the planned take from this job? The heist, I mean.”
“You don’t know?”
“No.” But it was his job to find out. “Don’t you think that’s a little odd?”
“I’m getting a paycheck, no matter what we walk out of there with in hand.”
“Right.” Five hundred grand. A meager amount for such a job. On the other hand, how many working-class stiffs could put in a week’s work and walk away with half a million? Still. He did have a job to do. “But I would like to know the take.”
“Why? Will it change things?”
“Maybe.”
She cast him a glance that he read many ways. But mostly, he wanted to kiss that pink mouth again. When she wasn’t in costume or sporting false eyelashes, she was makeup free and he liked her best that way. Her lips were plump and soft and, man, he’d wanted to shove her down on the couch and get into a nice, long make-out session with her. It would be rough and rowdy. She seemed to find that appealing. And he had no arguments against it.
But he was troubled by the work ethics thing. Shouldn’t be. But the fact it did bother him made him take note. A man was never bothered by something unless he had a reason to be. Figuring out why it troubled him so much, though, was the bitch of it all.
Who in their right mind would push away a woman like the one who strode purposefully by his side? She was smart, talented (in ways that spoke to his born-a-criminal soul) and she had a thing for him. He knew she did. Else why would she have jumped in the shower with him? And she had asked him for the kiss when they’d been on the sofa!
Something was going on between the two of them, and he wasn’t sure whether he should push it away, pull it closer, or just stand in the middle and see what happened.
Hell, he was already standing in the middle. The woman bounced off him, then around him, then right into his arms. And it was confusing as all get out.
Oi. Women. A guy shouldn’t want to live with one, but he really did like to keep one around for all the good stuff. And Jack believed that having sex calmed him, made him focused and relaxed, especially before a job. Could he manage such with the sexy Russian safe cracker?
He could if he applied himself. And he would.
“Here we are.” She veered across the street on a green light toward a shiny steel-sided building. “I didn’t tell the client I was bringing someone along. Of course, muscle will be expected. You got a gun?”
“Do I need one?”
“No. I just want to know in case they do a pat down.”
“I rarely carry a weapon. My fists provide all the necessary intimidation.”
“I believe that. Stay behind me and don’t open your mouth, got it?”
He gaped at her, issuing him such a command. But when she winked at him, his affront slipped away and he shook his head. A laugh felt great. The woman had already managed to get inside him. And he liked it.
* * * *
The meeting place was an office building in the center of town. Corporate headquarters, sleek design studios, and hi-brow coffee shops with internet connections populated the area. Lots of steel and glass, which contrasted with the rather quaint and colorful buildings in the district where Saskia was staying.
The six-story office complex was not busy as they strode inside. No security guard at the door, nor was there a reception station on the main level. Of course, there was no reason. Wasn’t as though the place was owned by the criminal elite.
Well, it could be, but if so, they’d assumed a normal business mode for this place. Once on the lift, Saskia punched the elevator button for the fourth floor, while Jack assumed a stoic position beside her.
This was the first time she’d gone anywhere with muscle. Made her a little nervous, actually. She was accustomed to protecting herself. And she could. But this was an unfamiliar country and she knew the Finns did not care much for Russians. It went back to World War II. Something about the Russians occupying the country and spreading general mayhem.
She’d pull on an American accent and make this visit a quick in and out. Grab the stuff and leave. Clive had given her an envelope with payment inside. She hadn’t opened it. The thickness of the stack of bills felt right. She did not trust the man completely, but for some reason, opening the sealed envelope had felt childish. If Clive were going to screw her over he—well, she hadn’t thought about that one until now. But he didn’t suspect her alliances. Couldn’t.
“You cool?” Jack’s voice startled her. She’d forgotten she was not alone.
“Always. Why?”
“Just checking.”
He smelled like iced peppermint. And she was not going to forget that less than an hour earlier they’d been snogging on the sofa. But it hadn’t gone as far as she would have liked. He was too cautious. She got that about him. Always looking over one shoulder. Never wanting to get caught out.
Didn’t mean she had to respect it.
The elevators doors opened with a ding, and she strolled down a long hallway. There was only one door at the end of the hall, and before it stood a man to match Jack’s build, and they might have even bought suits at the same shop. No tie on the bruiser though. While Jack flashed his yellow warning tie. She liked to think of it that way. Yield, slow down. You don’t want to take it too far with this o
ne.
She smiled as she approached the man at the door. “Got an appointment with your boss,” she said in a clean American accent. “He’s expecting me.”
“Sherri?” the man asked.
She nodded. It was a useful name. Sounded non-confrontational, and a little not-all-there, like an easy mark.
He stepped aside, but when Jack followed, the bouncer barked, “Just the woman.”
Saskia turned and met Jack’s gaze. The slightest nod from her confirmed she was okay with this. He remained stoic, hands at his sides, but his gaze swept from her face to the other man’s face. Then he took a step back and clasped his hands before his crotch. Standard bodyguard I’m ready, so come on and fuck with me pose.
Saskia opened the door and stepped inside a conference room walled on the opposite corner with windows. A tall man stood on the other side of a long table, back to her, looking out over the street below. His arms were akimbo, and he was slender. The well-fitted pin-striped suit probably cost him thousands. Of which, she assumed had been a drop in the bucket to him. One of her trusted contacts from years ago had recommended him; he was a pharmaceutical agent. She always expected blatant display of wealth from those bastards.
“Hey,” she said, and remained on the opposite side of the long mahogany conference table. Hands down at her sides and head lifted, she showed confidence. “I’m Sherri.”
“I know that.” The man didn’t turn around. His accent was definitely Finnish. A tilt of his head up and to the side showed a closed eye and an almost sun-worshipping desire for the meager light that beamed through the streak-less window. “You bring the cash?”
She tossed the envelope onto the table and it landed with a satisfying thunk.
The man turned around. He was handsome, yet the angles of his bone structure were not symmetrical. Sort of an Adrien Brody lookalike. Saskia watched as he slipped long fingers inside his suit coat and drew out a small glass vial as if a magician revealing his secret. He placed the vial on the table before him, then gestured she approach.
So Saskia complied, eyeing the outline of his suit as she did so. It was fitted and she didn’t notice a bulge from a gun at his ribs or hip or his waist. There was no reason for this exchange to go sour but she was ever cautious.
Making a swipe for the vial, she sucked in a breath when he caught her wrist. She held the vial carefully, as he squeezed her wrist painfully. If it cracked, she did not want to inhale once the poison hit the air.
“Dude, the cash is all there. You want to count it?”
“I trust you.”
“Then what’s up? I didn’t come for a song and dance. Let me go.”
She could take him down by shifting her weight and flipping him over her head, but she didn’t want to start a ruckus if it wasn’t necessary. She’d play along with his game. For a few seconds.
“You are beautiful,” he said in an exact tone that proved he was speaking English for her benefit.
Compliments from the unsavory types generally meant much more than a mere acknowledgement. And the twist about her wrist indicated he wanted her to stay a while.
Thankful she’d worn a wig and that her disguise was secure, Saskia shrugged. “I try.”
“But you are also lying to me.” He jerked her arm and she stumbled forward. In a move she hadn’t anticipated, he tugged the wig from her head. Her dark hair spilled down in a tangle. “What are you? Interpol? KGB?”
“KG—are you crazy? I just like the blond look, is all. Now let go of me, or I will make you.”
“Tough girl, eh?” He succeeded in wrangling her up against his chest. His breath smelled like vinegar. His dark eyes were surprisingly chocolate. But not a thing about him appealed to her. “Let’s have a kiss, yes, Miss Fake Blond?”
Enough already. “Sure. But only if you can manage it with aching balls.”
She kicked up and kneed him in the thigh, missing his groin. He grunted and as he leaned forward, head-butted her.
That hurt like a mother. And it disoriented her momentarily so that suddenly Saskia found herself facing the table, bent over, with one of her arms twisted behind her back. She held the vial of poison in her other hand. And she’d best be cautious with it. Wasn’t like she could smash it against the man’s face and hope she’d not also take some of the poison into her skin.
At a moment like this, she should call out to Jack. But the tiny niggle that she hated to show him she wasn’t up to par kept her from doing so. Struggling as the man leaned against her ass, pressing a hard-on against her, she managed an elbow to some part of him. He swore and she briefly felt the hand about her wrist loosen.
Twisting out of his grip, Saskia pushed against the table, barreling them both backward to land against a steel beam that dissected the floor to ceiling window sections. He clasped her across the chest, squeezing one of her breasts painfully, and lifted her feet from the floor.
Swinging out her arms, she had no traction or means of defense. But she wasn’t going to wait for his next move. Reaching high and behind, she scraped her fingernails across the sides of his scalp and leaned forward, toppling them both. She took the brunt of the fall on her knees and shoulder, but rocked to the side and rolled over his body, coming up to stand.
The door opened. The bodyguard peered inside and swore in Finnish.
“Take him out, Jack!” Saskia called.
Then she noticed the glass vial on the floor near her attacker’s head. It had been crushed in the struggle. Her fingers clenched. She brushed them swiftly across her pants, hoping she’d not touched any of the white contents. Leaping over his chest to get the hell out of there, she was caught by a pants leg and she tumbled to the floor.
Looking down her body at the clinging monster, she saw he’d rolled his cheek right onto the broken vial. But he couldn’t have noticed as his growl was only focused on keeping her in hand.
“Jack, quickly!”
“You are not American,” the man said as she kicked at his hand and freed herself.
She crawled away just as Jack entered the room and dodged for the man on the floor.
“Wait!” she called. “Don’t touch him. He’s got the poison on him.”
The man, for the first time, slapped a palm to his cheek and pulled it away to inspect the tiny bits of shattered glass. He swore.
“Run, Jack. Now!” Saskia demanded.
She took off out of the room, jumping over the fallen bodyguard. Jack followed in tow. Avoiding the elevator, she opened the door to the stairs. Behind her, effusive curses from the suited man turned into growling pleads for rescue.
The poison could kill him in less than three minutes. Landing the final floor, she twisted up her hair and then her hood, pulling the strings tight so her hair didn’t slip out. Leaving the stairway, she assumed a calm pace with Jack rushing up behind her and paralleling her.
He smoothed a hand down his tie, and opened the door for her as a woman in a long chinchilla fur coat entered and gave them a nod. Jack offered, “Nice day, ma’am.”
The chill air smacked Saskia in the face as she veered down the street toward her car. Picking up speed, she ran the last six car lengths and quickly got inside and fired up the engine. Jack slid in and closed the door. He didn’t rush to ask if she was okay or check her for injuries. He’d seen her struggling. And he’d seen what had gone down. She was thankful for his silence.
And not. Because right now, she really wanted to swear and beat the steering wheel and then scream at the world. Instead, she gripped the wheel tightly to keep from revealing how much her hand was shaking, and pulled into traffic.
“Well, that was a cock up,” Jack suddenly said, breaking the chilling silence.
And all Saskia could do was laugh. It felt good to release her anxiety. Hell yes, it had gone over not at all well. She should have been keener. Anticipated such a tussle. But it
was over, and she wasn’t going to beat herself up about it. She’d gotten out of there; that was what mattered.
As she stopped at a light, she turned to her partner in crime and nodded. “Thanks for having my back.”
“Always.”
It sounded good. Like the man would always be there to protect her. But she knew better. It was just another job to him. He’d been doing what he’d trained to do. And so had she.
So why had that encounter shaken her so terribly?
It wasn’t because now she had no poison to hand over to Clive. Quick thinking decided she could mix up a fake that would convince him well enough. Nor was it that the jerk in the office had manhandled her and forced her to fight for her dignity. Or that she had come this close to touching that poison.
What shook her was an indefinable need for the protection Jack had offered, and which she’d called out for. She’d needed him.
And what would she do when he was no longer there to answer her call?
Chapter 9
Jack held his tongue as Saskia drove directly from downtown Helsinki to the garage north of Toukola. Clive wanted them to run through the plan this afternoon. He could feel Saskia’s tension and see it in her tight knuckles that wrapped the steering wheel. She’d been thrown in that office. And more than physically. He hadn’t heard the scuffle start, and it was a good thing the other thug had opened the door to look inside. How such a struggle had begun was beyond him, but he was thankful he’d gotten to her before she’d been hurt.
She’d said something about poison? What was that about?
It was for a side job. Yes, he distinctly remembered her saying that, and then telling him no more details.
What Jack most wanted to do right now was wrap her into his arms and kiss her. Tell her she was all right. They’d gotten out of there alive. But would the client send thugs after them? Saskia had lost her wig. They had an ID on both of them. Unless the one man really did die from the poison.