"Yes you do,” Rick told her. “Too frigging much. That's half the problem."
"I'm sorry if my active mind is causing you trouble,” Georgina said stiffly. “I'm afraid we have to go back downstairs. We wish you a pleasant evening."
"She works with me,” Rick said. “We're on a case."
"Who?” Georgina asked.
Rick scrubbed his face with his hands. “Christ. I don't need this tonight.” He turned to Trent. “Get her out of here.” His next words were spoken to Georgina. “I'll stop by when I get home. I'll explain the situation to you."
"You don't owe me any explanations,” Georgina said. She reached out to take Trent's hand.
Rick's gaze flicked over them both. “You're going to get one, whether you want it or not,” he said. “And you are going to get it now, in case you were planning to lock me out later.” He turned back to Trent. “Give us a few minutes.” Then he raised his hand to the girl at the table. She stood up and undulated over to them.
"Maite, can you keep company to this gentleman for a few minutes? I need to talk to my friend."
"Sure,” the girl said, eyeing Trent appreciatively. “Take your time."
Rick twisted Georgina's hand free from Trent's and pulled her behind him toward the empty table, leaving Maite and Trent at the bar. He helped her into the seat Maite had vacated, and sat down next to her. Then he leaned over and pressed his lips against her ear, and spoke in an urgent whisper.
"Maite's a cop. We're on the job. We are meeting a Colombian drug dealer. I can't talk in case the place is bugged. Microphones, cameras. They could be listening and watching. That's why I was kissing Maite. To whisper into her ear."
"I don't need to know,” Georgina said. Across the room, she could hear Trent's voice. Maite was throwing her head back, laughing at something Trent had said.
"Yes you do,” Rick told her.
"Why?"
"Because I don't want you to get the wrong idea."
"Don't let me cramp your style,” Georgina said. Then she realized Rick was staring past her. She turned around and followed his gaze.
"Shit,” Rick said. “Don't look. Turn this way. Look at me.” When Georgina didn't follow the orders, he raised his hands and yanked her head around. He covered up the rough gesture by kissing her on the mouth. Then he slid his lips next to her ear. “That man is our target. My name is Ricardo Camacho. I'm a drug distributor from LA. You have to take Maite's place as my girlfriend. Don't give your real name. Speak as little as possible."
Then Rick let go of her and stood up. He swaggered a few steps toward a small wiry man in his sixties who approached their table. A pair of muscle-bound youths flanked the man, their alert eyes systematically sweeping the room. All three were dressed in double-breasted suits much like Rick's. A little too long in the jacket, a little too flamboyant in the cut. When Rick reached out to shake the newcomer's hand, Georgina caught a glimpse of a ring sparkling on Rick's little finger.
She tried to recall the words she'd read in The Times back in England a few months ago. It had been some column on sociological trends. Bling. That was it. Rick had turned into a chav with lots of bling.
The introductions in Spanish went over her head, both literally and figuratively. Then the four men sat down, and Rick switched to English. “This is my—"
She cut him off. “I'm Mr. Camacho's financial advisor. His banker. My name is Georgina Coleman."
"Senor Camacho needs his banker with him in order to do business?” The wiry man regarded her evenly with deep-set eyes that seemed endlessly sad. The Spanish accent was faint, with an American twang to it.
"No.” Georgina gave him a cool smile. “This is a social occasion. I was attending an art exhibition downstairs, and I came to get a drink at the bar. When I saw Mr. Camacho, I stopped by to stay hello. His girlfriend is entertaining my art dealer friend while Mr. Camacho and I talk business."
"What kind of business?” The man with the sad eyes asked. The two youths leaned back in their seats, observing Georgina in a detached manner.
"Excuse me,” Georgina said. “I didn't catch your name."
"I am Diaz."
"Mr. Diaz, I specialize in money laundering. I work for Pacific Bank, but sometimes I consult with private clients."
The sadness in the old man's eyes gave way to a hard glint. “You launder money?"
Georgina's smile widened. She shook her head. “My job is to catch people who do it. However, sometimes people find it useful to understand the methods that my job entails."
"I see.” Mr. Diaz gave a few slow nods. “Tell me, what is happening in the world of money laundering these days, Miss Coleman? It is all done with computers and wire transfers?"
"By no means,” Georgina said. “The government is making massive investments into preventing that. The treasury, the FBI, the IRS are all doing their part. Even the US postal service looks out for suspicious transactions. The IRS alone has 41 active teams to review the Suspicious Activity Reports that the banks and casinos file. The FBI uses sophisticated computer software to analyze transaction patterns. Financial institutions employ people like me to comply with reporting requirements."
Mr. Diaz lifted his thin brows. “So money laundering is finished?"
"Far from it,” Georgina reassured him. “The International Monetary Fund estimates that money laundering continues to account between 2 and 5 percent of the world's gross domestic product."
"Is cash the best?” Mr. Diaz dug in his breast pocket and pulled out a slim cigar. He sniffed at it, rolling the tubular shape longingly between his fingers. Then he slipped it back inside the pocket. “Regulations,” he said with a tone of regret. “They make life so difficult."
Georgina pursed her lips in an expression of sympathy. Then she carried on. “Cash is still the main method. The Black Market Peso Exchange system is by far the biggest process. But there's also bulk cash transport, chiefly between the US and Mexico.” Georgina leaned closer and dropped her voice to a gossipy tone. “Just last year, a Texas state trooper seized over two million dollars from a truck he stopped on Interstate 59 for speeding. The cash was hidden under boxes of frozen chicken. And did you know that since 1990, a total of 33 tunnels have been discovered along the border, mostly in Arizona. Two of them had their entrances in churches."
"What you would advise as the best method?” Mr. Diaz asked, disregarding her banter.
Georgina straightened in her seat and gave him a frosty look. “I advise my clients on how to comply with the law. It is up to them to put that information into profitable use.” She nodded at him. “If you wish to continue this conversation, let me know. Mr. Camacho can tell you how to contact me.” She stood up and extended her hand to the old man. “Good evening. It has been a pleasure to meet you.” Then she shook hands with Rick. Ignoring the two bodyguards, she walked away from the table, fighting to keep her steps steady.
When Georgina got back to the bar, she stopped in front of the girl Rick had called Maite. She caught the girl's eye and gave her an imperceptible nod. “Hello Maite,” she said. Then she laid a hand over the girl's arm, bending over to exchange an air kiss on each cheek. Maite caught on immediately. She leaned closer, holding one hand away to protect her drink.
"You're still his girlfriend,” Georgina whispered into Maite's ear. “I'm his banker. We talked money laundering. I gave my real name. It's Georgina Coleman, in case you're supposed to know."
Maite squeezed her arm to confirm she'd understood. “Thanks. I'd better get back to Ricardo.” Then she turned around and sent a dazzling smile at Trent. “I'd love to see your gallery. I really mean it. Give me a call.” She laid the half-empty martini glass on the bar and floated her way across the floor back to the table, where she sat down next to Rick.
"Is this something else you owe me commission for?” Georgina said, watching as Trent slipped a paper napkin with a scribbled string of numbers into his jacket pocket.
Trent laughed. He only made a soft s
ound, but his eyes crinkled, and his shoulders heaved. Suddenly Georgina felt giddy with pleasure. Life wasn't a bad place, once you stopped trying to control everything and accepted whatever came your way.
"Come on,” she said. “Where's my drink? I want to take it downstairs with me."
* * * *
Georgina arrived home in good time before eleven. She settled down to wait for the storm to break. She made a cup of tea and curled up on the sofa, without bothering to change out of her evening clothes. She kicked off her shoes and pulled up her feet, and tried to draw some courage from the hot liquid warming her insides.
The cup almost tumbled out of her hands when the doorbell burst into life. Georgina laid the tea on the table and scampered out to the hall. The doorbell buzzed all the way there. Someone was holding their finger on the button and not letting go.
She undid the lock and moved out of the way.
"What the fuck were you doing?” Rick shouted as he burst through the door. “Don't you ever listen?"
"I listen, but I regard it as my civil right to ignore stupid instructions,” Georgina said evenly. She'd been practicing for the last hour. How to keep her cool in the face of the inevitable attack. She strolled back into the living room, aware that Rick followed close behind.
"My instructions weren't stupid,” Rick said. “Unlike your actions."
"Think about it,” Georgina told him, whirling to face him. “You said they might be watching? Correct?"
"Correct.” Rick glared at her. His expression became guarded, as though he suspected some kind of a trap.
"And you kissed Maite while I stood at the bar?” Georgina pressed on. “Correct?"
"Correct,” Rick said slowly.
"In that case, you couldn't introduce me as your girlfriend. I watched you kissing Maite. Do I look like the kind of woman who would just sit there and smile, right after having caught her boyfriend canoodling with another woman?” Georgina lost her cool despite her careful preparation. “Do I?” she screamed.
"Simmer down,” Rick said.
"Do I?” Georgina yelled.
"No, you damn well don't,” Rick shouted back. “You're the sort of woman who would clip me over the ear or toss a drink into my face."
"Good,” Georgina said grimly. “I was worried that anyone watching us would have reached the same conclusion. It wasn't sensible to say that I was your girlfriend."
"I was supposed to be there with my woman and you were sitting next to me,” Rick muttered.
"It's all right,” Georgina said. “I fixed it. Now I can catch him for you, if you want me to."
"What are you talking about?” Rick ceased scrubbing his face with his hands. He lowered his arms and stared at her.
"Al Capone,” Georgina said. “We can do an Al Capone on him."
"Would you mind explaining?"
"In 1931, Al Capone was convicted of tax evasion. The authorities couldn't get enough evidence to convict him of any other crimes, so they got him for not paying his income taxes. In the US, even illegal earnings are subject to income tax rules."
Rick thought for a minute, staring at the dark balcony window behind Georgina. “How would it work?” he asked finally.
"You get him to contact me. I'll set him up with a money laundering scheme. With luck, we'll get enough evidence to have him convicted of that. But if we can't, we should at least be able to get him on tax evasion. I'll create a record of his wealth. As he will not have declared his illegal earnings, he'll be in breach of the Tax Code."
"No,” Rick said. “It will be too dangerous."
"It's your best bet,” Georgina argued. “The conviction rate for money laundering indictments runs at over 50%. And almost 90% of those convicted go to prison. The average term is over five years."
Rick gave her a surprised glance. “How do you know all this?"
"That's what I do,” Georgina explained. “It's part of my job to make sure Pacific Bank doesn't unwittingly facilitate illegal transactions.
"You never told me before,” Rick complained.
"It didn't come up in the conversation.” Georgina made an impatient gesture with her hand. “So, did Mr. Diaz ask for my number?"
Rick stood in silence for a few seconds.
"He did.” The way Georgina said it was not a question but a fact. “What did you tell him?"
Rick shrugged his shoulders. “I said I didn't have it on me. I told him I'd call him back with it."
"Do it,” Georgina urged him. “I can help you catch him."
"There would be too many problems to resolve."
"Such as?"
"I'd need to go into deep cover."
"Deep cover.” Georgina frowned. “What does that mean?"
"At the moment, Rick Camacho only exists on paper. He has a Mexican passport and a US driver's license, and a green card. But he lives nowhere, and only exists for a few hours at a time. I'd have to change that."
"What, like become him full-time?"
"Or at least part-time. And Rick Matisse would have to disappear. If Domenico Diaz decides to use you, he'll have you checked out. We can't risk someone following you home and recognizing me. I'd have to move out of here, and I'd have to keep away from you."
"What about Andy?” Georgina asked.
"I've been thinking of sending her out to visit my mother,” Rick said slowly. “They've never met."
Georgina stared at him. “Andy's been with you more than two years and she's never met her grandmother?"
"There are ... complications,” Rick told her. “I didn't want to stir things up until the custody case was settled."
"Oh."
Rick reached out and took both of her hands into his. “If we go ahead with this, you have to promise to listen to me. You'll do as I say, without any questions. Is that understood?"
Georgina fidgeted. She tried to pull her hands loose, but that only made Rick grip them tighter. “All right,” she blurted out. “I promise."
"Good girl.” Rick yanked her closer, sending Georgina careering against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a hard kiss full of anger and frustration. Then he lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “Now, let's get you out of that dress."
"I'm not interested in making love to you tonight,” Georgina said. “Not with the mood you're in."
"There's two ways we can do this,” Rick said bluntly. “Either you take off that dress, or I take it off you. The difference is that the first way you get to wear it again. Which is it going to be?” By the time he finished talking, his jacket lay in a heap on the floor and he stood balancing on one leg, kicking off his trousers.
"I'll be sore from last night,” Georgina said. But she reached behind her to pull down the zip on the back of her dress.
"Why should that worry me?” Rick asked.
Georgina pushed the fabric down her shoulders and wriggled to get it past her hips. By now Rick stood naked in front of her, his erection pushing into the space between them.
"Was this expensive,” he asked, sliding the back of his hand down the pale grey silk teddy that covered her breasts.
"Yes."
"Too bad,” Rick said. He curled his fingers over the bodice and ripped it open. Then he did the same with her panties, leaving grey silk rags scattered on the floor.
"Stop,” Georgina said. She gasped at the sensations bursting into life inside her. Desire. That was the only label that fit. The feeling scorched her so fiercely it surprised her not to see flames leaping from her skin.
"Why?” Rick pushed her backwards until she toppled down on the sofa. “My civil rights allow me to ignore stupid instructions. I don't see any reason to stop."
"Go to hell,” Georgina said.
"That's not a good enough reason.” Rick bent down to pick up his trousers. He fished a condom out of a pocket and sheathed himself. Then he climbed on top of her and wedged her legs apart with his knee.
"I'm withdrawing my cooperation at this point,” Georgina
said primly.
Rick froze above her. For a second, amusement flashed in his eyes. “We'll see about that,” he said. Then he slowly eased himself inside her, holding her gaze with his.
Georgina bit into her lip, trying to stifle the little sounds of pleasure that rose in her throat. She felt the hard invasion deep in her center, but she also felt Rick straining his arms as he propped them on either side of her head, taking care not to crush her with his weight. His eyes searched her face, looking for any signs of distress.
Another soft moan escaped from her mouth, and her hips began to rock back and forth. The knowing smile that passed over Rick's face made her furious at him. That smug confidence. It doubled her determination to remain in control, to keep her body still.
She would just lie there and ignore him. Put a dent in that male ego. Georgina shut her eyes tight. She wouldn't watch. The solid curve of shoulders above her, the dark hair curling against the dampening skin. The eyes that sought to catch hers, have her reaffirm that he wasn't hurting her.
She'd ignore it all.
But she couldn't ignore the steady strokes pushing in and out of her most sensitive part. They made her body ratchet tighter and tighter, until she forgot it was supposed to be a battle of wills, and her hips began to rise up and meet him.
"That's it, sweetheart,” Rick murmured. “No point in denying the pleasure."
"Go to hell,” Georgina muttered. Her hands fisted in the fabric that covered the sofa as she fought to keep them from reaching up to him.
"Only if you come with me,” Rick told her. Then he pushed all the way into her, sending her over the edge into a frenzy that was made of both the darkest darkness and the brightest light.
* * * *
"I don't like it,” Rick said. It troubled him to discuss Georgina's suggestion that she try to trap Domenico Diaz as if it was a serious plan. He couldn't imagine an untrained civilian taking a leading role in an operation. Least of all a female.
They lay tucked under covers in Georgina's bed. Rick lounged on his back, one arm wrapped around Georgina, holding her tight against his side. Her head rested against his shoulder, where it rocked up and down with his steady breathing. Her fingers played with the hairs on his chest. It ought to have annoyed the hell out of him, but instead it felt just right.
Project Seduction Page 17