i beae453328863969

by Unknown

  “Not for work, although some people do work into the night. I went back once, when I forgot my mobile phone.”

  “Good, we can use that excuse if we’re questioned, okay?”

  “I guess so.”

  Her expression was daunted, to say the least. But time was pressing on and he’d promised Alec a call back ASAP. The guy was out of his mind with worry and needed reassurance that he was doing the right thing.

  “Is there a security guard?”

  “Yes, on the main entrance. He covers the building.”

  “Are there other entrances?”

  “I use a side door on Coopers Yard. It opens onto a staircase that goes straight up to our floor.”

  “And it’s a key code entrance?”

  “Yes.” She turned towards him, her eyes narrowing as she realized he’d done some advance research.

  He smiled. “Cameras?”

  “No. Well, on the entrance yes, so that the receptionist knows who is approaching. Our offices don’t do anything critical. It’s entente cordiale in the cultural and social agenda. Nothing of any real value is held here.”

  “Okay, any idea what the guard does? Does he check out the building or stay by his desk?”

  She shrugged, looking back at the building, and then her eyes lit. “Wait. Alison, that’s Tarquin’s PA, she had a thing for him for a while and she works late sometimes. She used to make a joke about him being regular as clockwork, on the hour every hour.”

  “Excellent.” He glanced at his watch. It was 1:25 am. He

  opened up the glove compartment, retrieved two flashlights and handed her one. “Right then, let’s get a move on. We’ve got a breaking and entering to execute.”

  She stared at him, aghast. “You have a real way with words, buster,” she declared with a decidedly disapproving expression.

  He reached for the door handle and smiled to himself when

  he heard her groan in frustration behind him. She was muttering curses under her breath as she got out of the car to join him.

  Falling for Trouble: Chapter 2

  Sonia took a deep breath and tried to steady her nerves. Getting into the building had been the easy part. She could always say she had forgotten her phone if she were questioned. But going into Tarquin’s office? That would be much harder to explain.

  The familiar corridors felt very different compared to the busy hub she was used to frequenting during the day. Heavy with an ominous silence, only the faint gloom of discrete night lighting brightened their way. Punching the four-digit security code into the keypad outside Tarquin’s oak-paneled door, she bit her lower lip and held her breath until she heard the lock mechanism activate and click open. She pushed the door open.

  Moonlight spilled into the room and over the massive leather-covered desk that stood at its center. Tarquin’s desk. She could feel his presence. Through the tall sash windows beyond the desk, The Houses of Parliament stood in stark relief against the skyline.

  She shivered. She could picture his glacial eyes scorning her.

  She could hear the tone of his voice as he fired her for being in his office after hours on a wild hunt for information against him.

  His potential reaction didn’t make for pleasant thoughts. He was an intimidating man at the best of times and right from her first encounter with him, straight out of University, she’d vowed never to wander onto his wrong side.

  “How the hell did I get talked into this?”

  “Are you okay?” Oliver said from behind her. She swung her torch round and lit up his face. Oliver Eaglestone, the charmer.

  He’d sold her a cockamamie international arms story and now she was risking her career to follow up what might be a hoax, or—

  more likely—a misunderstanding.

  “No, I’m not okay. This might be just like another day’s work to you, but if I get caught, I’m in big trouble.”

  I’m in big trouble already, she thought, looking up at him. The magnetic pull she’d felt from the moment she’d set eyes on him wasn’t helping her concentrate or rationalize. From what her mother told her, women fell for Oliver all the time. She’d said it like that was a good quality in a man, but Sonia didn’t agree. She’d vowed not to become another casualty even before she met him, but after being in close proximity with him she could barely keep her mind on the problem at hand. He was good-looking, charismatic and sexy as hell. Was it any wonder he was such a heartbreaker?

  “We’ll just have to make sure you don’t get caught.” He gave her a reassuring smile, once again dousing her in his trademark charm. “I don’t need two of you in trouble.”

  Mention of her brother helped ground her. According to his message, it was Tarquin who had set him up. Despite her doubts and denials, she knew deep down that Alec wasn’t the sort of person who would make a mountain out of a molehill. He was the levelheaded one in the family; there had to be something in it.

  She stepped behind the forbidding desk with determination and walked over to the computer table to one side of Tarquin’s strong-hold.

  “Let’s just do this and get out.” She flicked the computer on.

  “What is it you want to look at?”

  He shrugged. “Let’s try the email first.”

  She nodded and turned back to the computer. The screen was demanding a password. “Damn. It’s usually up and running before we all get in to the office,” she explained. “I don’t know his password.”

  “Allow me. This is my field.”

  He hauled the oak and leather studded desk chair over to the computer table and sat down, flexing his fingers as he did so.

  What was he going to do, she wondered, her interest piqued, apply some code-busting trickery?

  He leaned towards a framed photograph sitting on the desk.

  What a time to take an interest in the surroundings!

  Pointing at the glamorous woman on Tarquin’s arm, he asked,

  “Right, what’s his wife’s name?”

  “Gloria,” she replied, wondering where on earth this was going.

  He typed it in.

  Now she got it. He was using complete guesswork. Great, they could be here all night.

  It bombed. He tried a couple of variations, adding numbers.

  “Kids?”

  “No… but,” she was getting the idea, “hang on, I’m following your train of thought. Try Cassandra.”

  His fingers flew across the keyboard.

  “Bingo.” They were in.

  “You were made for this type of work.” He glanced up at her approvingly.

  She tried not to be flattered. “I thought you were going to do something fancy.”

  “Hey, I told you, standard variety.”

  “What is that you do? You mentioned data encryption.”

  He turned back to the computer. “Tracking illegal activities via the net.”

  “I see.” She didn’t want to think about what that might mean.

  People or goods, or people as goods. It made her shudder.

  “Who is Cassandra?” he enquired, while he opened up the email program.

  “His, um, well, ‘mistress’ is what you’d call it, I guess.”

  “Right.” An ironic smile crossed his face. “Good call. You really should consider surveillance work for a living.”

  Despite her vow to ignore his flattery, that tickled her.

  “How did you know about her?”

  “Oh, it’s common knowledge; she’s a receptionist in another part of the building. It’s quite the hot topic in office gossip. His wife, Gloria, is onto it. She came in here about a week back after a lunch function, all boozed up and bitter, fishing for information.

  She practically accused me and Alison, his PA, of being the cul-prit—said she’d name us in the divorce proceedings.”

  She couldn’t help shaking her head. It had certainly livened up events around the office, but she’d also felt terrible for the poor woman. Alison had told her not to waste her sympathy.
She said Gloria was itching for divorce and would come out of it well.

  “Might be useful,” he commented.

  Sonia wondered why, but didn’t ask because they were into the mailbox and Oliver was scanning the address book.

  “Here we go, Jack the lad.”

  He’d clicked on an address for someone called Jack Rothschild, a name Sonia was unfamiliar with.

  “Who is it?”

  “This is the man Alec has to meet, or rather it’s one of the many names he goes under. His real name is Jack Watson and his more widely known handle is The Gun Runner.”

  She frowned, her heart sinking. She was hoping he’d find

  nothing and agree it was all a big mistake, but something bad was happening, her brother was mixed up in it and now so was she and Oliver. There was evidence here and it was getting harder for her to deny it was happening.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes, just a bit shaken by all this, you know.”

  “You’re doing great,” he reassured.

  He was looking at her with genuine concern, and for a moment she wondered if she had been mistaken, thinking he was a womanizing laddish type, judging him before she’d met him. He was putting himself on the line too, after all. Maybe he wasn’t so bad.

  Then again maybe it was her hormones talking.

  “Thanks.” She gave a weak smile then lost her nerve again, shivered and glanced over her shoulder. “Hurry, I want to get out of here. This all feels so wrong.”

  “Of course.” He clicked through the mail faster than she had time to keep up. “Looks like they might have arranged to meet tomorrow evening for some sort of an exchange. Hmm… as Alec’s got the documents, and the ‘goods’ must be somewhere awaiting shipment, that’s got to be about payment.”

  “Tarquin’s due in Paris tomorrow for a hands-of-culture publicity function.”

  Oliver glanced back at her. “That might well be it.”

  “How come?”

  “Well, Tarquin wants Alec to do the drop on Sunday evening, and he won’t want the papers to get to Watson until he’s got his cash for the job. Watson works out of a base in Paris. I can’t be sure, but it looks as if they plan to meet while Tarquin’s over there.

  The function would be good cover, too. If I can get some shots of them together, it won’t do our cause any harm.”

  She shook her head in disbelief. “Tarquin wouldn’t leave email from an arms dealer sitting on his PC, surely?”

  “You’d be amazed at what people leave in email. It’s fast becoming our best source of information, and it’s increasingly used in court cases.”

  “You’d think that would make Tarquin cover his tracks.”

  “He has, to quite an extent. He’s talking about payment in notes in this mail, so he’s evidently not using bank transfers. He’s using a fall guy to deliver the documents. Presumably the goods are somewhere close to Prague, possibly shipping to the Middle East.”

  She couldn’t withhold a pained response to that one. The mag-nitude of the problem was finally hitting her.

  “I’m probably the only one of your brother’s friends that would know where to look and recognize The Gun Runner’s ID, but that’s why he rang me.” He gave a wry smile. “If you know the right way to trip the servers, you can trace the email right back to the desktop it came from, but we don’t have time for that right now.” He pulled a disc from his inner pocket and loaded it into the PC, quickly highlighting a bunch of emails to copy.

  She was amazed at the way he analyzed and discussed it so

  calmly, as if it was all just a puzzle to be solved. But that was what he did, and he obviously did it well. She was fast becoming fascinated; Oliver’s mind worked in ways hers never could, and despite her desire to flee the building, it was fascinating to follow the way he processed the pieces of information, like being on the set of the latest crime investigation show on TV. She was a sucker for those cheap thrills.

  “So, you reckon Tarquin’s meeting this guy, The Gun Runner, after his Paris publicity thing?”

  “If Alec’s been instructed to do the hand over on Sunday night, Tarquin will want payment in advance and to be well clear of the hand over. It’s certainly worth taking a look over in Paris, see what he gets up to. What time is his function?”

  “Mid afternoon, at the Museum of Modern art in the Pompidou Centre. It’s due to last a couple of hours.”

  “Excellent. I’ll have time to get over there and track him down.”

  As she watched him copying email to the disc, a sense of dread descended on Sonia, and a knot of fear tightened around her heart.

  This meant she had to take seriously the threat to her brother’s safety.

  Before she had time to quiz Oliver some more, the sound of whistling rose up from the floor below. “Oh, my god, it’s the security guard.”

  “I thought you said he did his round on the hour.” He glanced at the time display on the computer and then passed his torch over his watch. “It’s only ten minutes to two.”

  “He obviously doesn’t stick to his schedule,” she snapped, panic swamping her. “What are we going to do now?”

  He retrieved the disc from the PC and put it back in his pocket, closing down the mail program as he stood up. He gripped her upper arms, forcing her to focus on him.

  “Trust me, we can cover up.”

  “Cover up? Cover up a breaking and entering?” Panic had hit her and hit her hard.

  “You didn’t break and enter, you simply let us in.”

  Oh please! “Don’t bloody remind me.”

  “We just need to find a good excuse to be here.” He glanced around the room. “Do you know him?”

  “Who?”

  “The security guard.” He switched the PC off and shifted the chair back into place.

  “Yes, I saw him coming on duty as I left the office.”

  “Good.”

  Good? Was he mad? To her mind, that only made matters worse.

  “Does he flirt with you?”

  What? “I suppose so, but what the hell has that to do with anything?”

  He rested his hands on her arms, urging her to move to the end of the desk. She swallowed, the rising tide of physical awareness between them jangling her nerves.

  “You’re a very sexy woman.” He looked her up and down as he said it and winked. “Trust me.”

  He let her go and she had to grip the edge of the desk for support. That was the second time he’d called her ‘sexy.’ Sonia just stared at him, confused and nonplussed by his comments and his actions. And now he was shifting objects off Tarquin’s desk.

  “Take off your jacket.”

  “What?”

  “Like I said earlier, you’re going to have to trust me.”

  How could he be so calm? She felt like her emotions were on a crazy roller coaster ride all of their own.

  A door slammed down the corridor. Oliver frowned and ges-

  tured at her. “Take off your jacket and get on the desk. When he comes in, tell him I’m your boyfriend and we were playing out a fantasy that you’ve had about having sex on your boss’s desk.”

  She glared at him, her jaw dropping. “You can’t be serious?”

  He began unbuttoning his shirt, revealing a strong muscular chest and abdomen. In the pit of her belly, an ache of longing sprang up. She tried to ignore it.

  “Believe me he’ll be so fascinated, he won’t question why else we would be here.” He winked again. “I’ll offer him a bribe to keep quiet. We can’t afford to have your boss hear about this.”

  She could only stare at him, incredulous. Surely this was all some weird nightmare from which she would awake at any moment? But the whistling was getting louder, doors were opening and closing. The guard was getting closer. Her heart beat out a fierce, erratic rhythm.

  Sex on Tarquin’s desk? He was mad! Who would believe that?

  She glanced at the door to the corridor. There didn’t seem to be any alternative. Wit
h shaking hands she pulled off her jacket and dumped it on the floor. Shimmying up onto the end of the desk, she laid back and cursed under her breath.

  He loomed over her, pulled open the buckle on his belt and lowered his zipper.

  “What are you doing now?” she hissed, her focus shifting.

  “Making it look real.” He left his jeans hanging open, revealing white jockeys molded to the rather spectacular bulge inside them.

  She wouldn’t have been able to stop staring, had he not shocked her out of that particular line of behavior by manhandling her body closer and pushing her skirt up around her hips with strong, knowing hands.

  The soft jersey dress she was wearing had bunched easily at her waist leaving her exposed, all but for her flimsy lace panties. Heat raced through her and her cheeks flamed. How dare he?

  As if she wasn’t exposed enough already, he wrenched her legs apart and she felt the hard pressure of his belt against her inner thigh. That wasn’t all. She could feel him. That enticing bulge. She was lying on her boss’s desk at two in the morning with Oliver Eaglestone; her skirt was up around her waist and she could feel his cock. She bit her lip in effort to keep a hold onto her sanity.

  A door sounded nearby. The guard was getting close. She

  looked at Oliver, beseechingly. He was eyeing her body, appre-ciatively. He gave a low sound of approval, almost a growl. The muscles of her sex clenched in response.

  “I think you’re taking advantage of the situation,” she muttered, while trying to ignore her body’s reactions to his proximity. Her clit was pounding and his weight against it was only making it worse.

  “I think we’re going to have to deal with this trust issue you have.”

  “Trust issue?” she blurted, her hands fisting against the desk.

  The tension was unbearable.

  He put one finger against her lips. “Yes, you’re going to have to trust me if we’re going to get through this.” He shrugged off her accusing stare. “Sexy undies,” he added, moving his hand to run his finger under the black lace edge of her panties.

  Sensation flew out from his fingertips to race across her skin, desire spiraling through her whole body. Her hips moved under his, her body reacting to his touch. She wanted to hold him, wrap herself around him and take him inside.