The Paris Assignment

by Addison Fox

  And then he thought of the news that awaited her and reached for her hand. “I need to tell you something.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “I’m afraid so.” Campbell squeezed her hand before pulling her toward a small sitting room that sat off the main hallway. “It’s not good news.”

  “Stef?”

  “Yes.”

  A hard sob caught in her throat as she dragged a hand to her mouth. “Tell me. Now.”

  “She was found earlier today.”

  “Earlier? How long ago?”

  “Security told me before dinner. She was found late morning New York time.”

  Whatever he expected, the virago who turned on him at the entryway to the sitting room wasn’t it. “How dare you keep that from me?”

  “Abby—”

  “No! Do not try to placate me.”

  “I’m not placating you.” He pointed toward a chair. “Sit down and I’ll tell you what happened.”

  She ignored the directive to sit and stood with fists clenched in the center of the room. “You had no right to keep this from me.”

  He didn’t miss the trembling that gripped her bare shoulders or how frail she seemed standing in the center of the room. “What would have been better? Telling you while you’re in the middle of entertaining? Have every one of your guests see you like this?”

  “I wouldn’t have acted like this. I’d have held it together.”

  “Like you are right now?”

  Where he’d seen self-righteous anger and a heavy dose of grief, her face changed into pure rage. “You have no right. This woman is dead and no matter what you think of her, she’s dead because of me!”

  “She’s dead because of herself.”

  Even as the words spilled from his lips, Campbell knew each word was like a bullet and every single one had landed in the vicinity of Abby’s heart.

  “She’s dead because she trusted the wrong man. She’s dead because she betrayed you for money or love or who knows what sort of incentive he promised her that she believed enough to get herself killed.”

  “Campbell—”

  “No!” The words came out on a harsh breath, his patience fully overridden by his anger and concern for her safety. “Be sad because she was a dupe. Be sad because her life is snuffed out, but you will not be sad because she is suffering the consequences of betraying your trust.”

  * * *

  Abby wrapped her arms around herself and willed the bone-deep cold to subside.

  Stef was dead? Murdered?

  The words scratched her throat, but she kept her gaze steady on Campbell’s. “Tell me about it.”

  “Please. Sit down.”

  She did as he asked, her hands folded in her lap as he recounted the awful details.

  The intrusion into her apartment that showed no signs of forced entry. The unnatural angle Stef was found in. Even the puzzling news of the woman’s personal emails and the lack of any evident communication with anyone.

  “I should have seen it. Should have done something.”

  “If you’d seen it you would have done something.”

  “Why is this happening? If we’re correct and Stef was used, this has been going on for some time. We worked together for almost three years, Campbell, and she’s been a part of the company for more than six. That’s a long time and I never knew there was a problem.”

  “People can hide their true selves.”

  Abby tried to process that, mentally flipping through any number of scenarios to try to make sense of the situation, but ended up discarding each and every one.

  “Look. She and I were never close and that’s on me and my reticence to get close to any of my coworkers. But we worked in close quarters. Late hours. I knew her comings and goings. Hell, I had to authorize her vacations. If someone seduced her, it had to take time.”

  “Planning.”

  “Yes. An inordinate amount of planning. She only started talking about a boyfriend a few months ago, but for her to be turned against me so completely? That took time. Add on the fact that the prototype has been missing for a while and this was well planned.”

  “Patient,” Campbell added. “Think about it from his point of view. The lonely secretary, vulnerable to seduction by an outside force. The slow migration to get her to believe him over you, a woman she’d worked with for years. The even slower migration to get her to start thieving inside McBane.”

  “What could he possibly have told her to play her like that? I get the lonely part and the flattery at having a new, likely worldly boyfriend. But the theft? That wasn’t her personality.”

  “He dangled something that had her dancing to his strings.”

  The image of Stef as a puppet only made the sorrow deeper, somehow.

  “What can someone possibly want with me?” Before he could answer she had another. “The level of detail. The methodical planning. This goes beyond even basic corporate espionage. He wants something from me and I have no earthly clue what it could possibly be.”

  Campbell dropped to a crouch in front of her. “We’re going to find out, Abby, and we’re going to stop him. I promise you.” He grasped her hands in his own, the warmth of his broad palms providing comfort even as she wondered if the horror would ever be over.

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because we will. We’re determined and we’re on to him and we’re both too stubborn to lose.”

  She wanted to believe him—truly wanted to believe everything would work out—but any way she looked at it they were at a disadvantage.

  “Years, Campbell. He’s been at this for years and we’re trying to catch up to him with less than a week’s worth of effort. We can’t beat him.”

  His hands tightened around hers. “Don’t talk like that. I know you don’t mean it. You can’t.” Without waiting for her to reply, he pressed on. “I’ve been working on a reverse-engineer of the server chip. That should give us a sense of who’s responsible. Give us a signal to narrow in on.”

  She listened to Campbell’s words but had no idea what he’d actually said.

  Stef was gone.

  Her company had been breached.

  And the person responsible had likely spent the evening in her home, eating her food, drinking her liquor and having convivial conversation all the while smirking behind her back.

  “Look—” Campbell broke off and she didn’t miss the distinct discomfort that stiffened his shoulders. “There’s one more thing you need to do and then I think it’s time to get some rest.”

  “What thing?”

  “The police want to talk to you.”

  “Of course they do.” She stood up and reached for his hand. “And after the conversation with the police?”

  “Rest. I think that’d be best.”

  She knew without him saying anything else the promise of making love had vanished.

  “David’s got a link set up in the study. It’s not routed through your systems at all so it should be secure from prying eyes. You can video chat with the police from there.”

  “Let’s go then and get it over with.”

  * * *

  Lucas slammed from one end of his hotel room to the other, the Scotch in his glass sloshing with every step. He was so close.

  So damned close.

  The image of Campbell Steele, those sharp, assessing eyes staring him down across the dining room table, filled his mind’s eye. The man’s questions, like a damned investigation, yet phrased as if it were the simplest matter in the world.

  One guy to another.

  You shouldn’t have used the device in his presence.

  The small voice rose up to taunt him, crooning like an angry lover in his ear.

  He’d silenced the voice the day he made his first kill and in one evening it had come roaring back.

  He wouldn’t let it rule him.

  He wouldn’t listen.

  Even as it screamed inside his head, taunting and teasing like a manic child.
>
  Idiot.

  Useless dolt.

  Unworthy wanker.

  No!

  He’d lived his life under its influence for many long, lonely years and once he’d grown strong enough had vowed it would never control him again.

  The kills had always calmed the voice in the past, so why didn’t the news of Stef’s death do anything but make the voice louder?

  Why couldn’t he calm down?

  Steele.

  With shaking hands Lucas brought the Scotch to his lips, drinking the liquor like a dying man desperate for water.

  It was Steele. The boyfriend. The one who’d surprised his hit man in New York during Abby’s evening out on the town. The same one who’d arrived in Abby’s office a few days ago with no advance warning for Stef.

  It was him.

  Steele had changed the balance of things, just as the plan was nearing completion. Even as he loathed the need to change his carefully ordered campaign at this late a date, Lucas knew the truth.

  The man needed to be eliminated.

  It was the only course of action before he could put the final piece of his plan in place. Before he could make sure Abby understood exactly who he was and what he intended to do to her.

  Lucas knew he’d promised the pleasure of ultimately removing Steele to another but he was changing the game.

  The situation had altered, shifting to an entirely new playing field and he was flexible enough and powerful enough to change with it.

  With shaking hands he poured another glass of Scotch, then dialed the man who had just arrived in Paris.

  * * *

  Abby let her gaze roam over the rooftops that made up her neighborhood as she stared at the city. Pale curtains fluttered in the evening breeze floating through her window and the hum of Paris could be heard through the window.

  Normally the sounds of the city comforted her, but tonight all it did was make her feel lonely.

  Stef was dead. Her business and possibly even her own life were threatened.

  And the man she was coming to care for deeply had kissed her on the head and sent her to her room after the call with the police.

  Tears stung the backs of her eyes and Abby brushed them away, unwilling to give in to them. If only she could brush away the fear that echoed through every fiber of her body as easily.

  The sound of footsteps down on the street drew her attention and she watched Simon, David’s right-hand man, stomp down the street toward an unmarked luxury car. The vehicle fit in with the other cars on the street, but the brawny, well-muscled security man wasn’t quite as hard to ignore.

  She watched him move, intrigued by his athletic grace, even as she wondered why she felt nothing for the man other than a passive interest in his rather attractive features. He’d given her more than a few appreciative stares earlier during the briefing. Had even gone so far as to suggest she should consider having him on her personal detail for the duration of her meetings before getting the eye from David.

  Wouldn’t he be just as good? An itch to be scratched was just that—a normal, healthy urge that did a body good to satisfy.

  And without warning, those tears were back in full force, falling before she had a chance to brush them away.

  Damn Campbell Steele.

  She didn’t want to simply scratch an itch or exercise a few healthy urges.

  She wanted him.

  Wanted to share her body with him, breathing the same air, wrapped up so tightly in each other there was no room to let anything else in.

  Not either of their pasts, nor whatever unimaginable things awaited them in the future.

  The light knock on her door broke through her thoughts. “Who is it?”

  “Abby. Let me in.”

  She dashed at the tears, torn between elation that he’d somehow sensed her thoughts and frustration he’d find her crying.

  She hadn’t bothered to lock her door, but rather than just call out and allow him to let himself in, she opened it and stood on the opposite side of the threshold. “It’s late, Campbell.”

  “I know.”

  The urge to posture and make up some flippant excuse was strong but she was tired and, more than anything, she was disappointed he’d left her alone. “And you’ve made it abundantly clear you’re interested in sleeping alone tonight.”

  “I’m not sure what gave you that idea but nothing could be further from the truth.”

  “Did you come here to convince me of that?”

  She didn’t miss the stiffening of his shoulders as his hands balled into fists at his side. “No.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “Because I can’t stay away.”

  Those hands flexed once more, like a last-ditch effort to restrain himself, before he walked through the door, pulled her into his arms and kicked the door closed with a foot. She briefly registered that he reached back and flipped the lock before his mouth came down on hers.

  Abby wrapped her arms around his neck and mumbled against his lips, “Took you long enough.”

  She felt the traces of a smile against her lips before he plundered. Abby thought the kisses they’d shared up to now had prepared her for the full onslaught of his lovemaking, but quickly realized nothing could be further from the truth.

  He absolutely devoured her.

  And she went willingly.

  * * *

  Campbell ran his hands over her lithe form, the thin silk nightgown bunching in his fingers as he sought flesh. She was amazing—warm, willing and so damned sexy he couldn’t see straight for wanting her.

  Couldn’t think over the insatiable need to make her his own.

  Campbell knew this way lay madness, but he was fast coming to accept that the path without her wasn’t a picnic, either. And then he simply gave up any attempt at rational thought and allowed himself the time to enjoy the woman in his arms.

  Their lips met and merged, tongues clashing in an erotic ballet that satisfied even as it left him desperate for more. Their breaths mingled with each kiss and he filled his hands with her as he walked them toward the bed.

  Her hands gripped his waist and she gathered the hem of his T-shirt in her hands before lifting it up and over his head. He broke contact with her—the brief moments without his hands on her an agony—as she slid the shirt over his head.

  The moment he was free of the shirt Abby pressed her lips to his chest, her tongue tracing an erotic path around one nipple before moving lower to trail a wet row of kisses to his belly button.

  “I want to see you,” he whispered against her temple as he pulled her in for another kiss. In movements that mimicked hers, he fisted handfuls of silk at her waist, dragging the nightgown over her head and tossing it. He abstractly noticed how the silk seemed to float toward the ground before the need to look at her consumed him completely.

  A sharp intake of breath stuck in his chest as he gazed on her perfect form for the first time. High, tight breasts with lush, pointed nipples. Slim hips and a flat stomach that begged for his touch. Long, slender legs that he already pictured wrapped around his waist as he drove into her, their bodies matched in rhythm.

  Enchanted, he pressed his hands to the heavy weight of her breasts, running his thumbs over her nipples. He was rewarded with a soft moan as her head fell back, those gorgeous eyes lidding to half-mast. Despite his body’s urgent demands, hard and unyielding against the fly of his jeans, he kept up the gentle assault on her breasts, overwhelmed by the beauty of her response.

  Without warning, her hands snaked forward to the snap of his jeans and before he even fully registered her movements, she had her hand under the waistband of his underwear, her hand fisting him with tight, controlled movements.

  Stars swam before his eyes and he fought to maintain some measure of control when all he wanted to do was drop to the bed and bury himself into her. “Abby.”

  “Hmm?”

  “You’re amazing.”

  Her smile was full of secrets and fem
inine power before she leaned up to nip a kiss on his chin. “Right back at ya, sexy.”

  With gentle movements he removed her hands from his jeans. Her pout was unmistakable, but he only smiled when that same small moue turned to a smile of delight as he lifted her off her feet and carried her to the large four-poster bed that dominated the far wall of her bedroom.

  He laid her across the bed, following her down and covering her body with his. She dropped one leg so he was nestled between her thighs and he felt the wild heat of her through his jeans. Desperate to feel some of that heat for himself, he reached between them and slipped a hand beneath the thin silk of her panties.

  His body hardened even further at the slick evidence of her need and he pressed a finger to those hot folds, then another. The low moan that greeted his actions had him increasing the pressure and her body responded with a liquid wave of heat that had his own primal satisfaction roaring in his chest.

  Had he ever seen a woman more magnificent in the throes of her pleasure? Or one more beautiful?

  Her orgasm crested and he captured her hard cries with his mouth, their tongues merging in rhythm with her body’s response. Although he was nearly mindless for her, Campbell kept up the relentless assault, willing her to wring every last drop from her release.

  When he felt her body go lax, he shifted, rolling to the side and gathering her in his arms.

  “Did you truly think you were going to stay in your room tonight?”

  Abby’s words—and the wry tone with which they were delivered—caught him off guard and a hard laugh welled in his throat before he could think to stop it.

  Had he ever felt so good?

  Or had he ever simply enjoyed a woman’s company more?

  “My intentions were noble.”

  “Well, consider me thrilled you got over that.” She smiled up at him and laid a hand against his cheek. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I’m glad I’m here.”

  The haze of passion was still more than evident in the dark discs of her pupils, wide in those delicious brown eyes, but it was rapidly pairing with something else.

  Renewed desire.

  “Campbell.” She whispered his name.