Callum pinched the bridge of his nose. It was his go-to move when the stress was getting to him. Dimitri thought it was also what he did when he had the urge to shoot everyone around him.
Megan paced the room, unable to sit still. It was like trying to interrogate Tinker Bell. Dimitri couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to touch her. He needed the solid reassurance that she was in one piece. As she walked past his perch on the arm of the sofa, he grabbed her. Pulling her into the V between his knees, he clamped his arms around her. Better. Much better. She wasn’t making him dizzy anymore and he felt much more relaxed knowing he had a hold of her.
Dimitri caught sight of Joe smothering a smile as Megan squirmed in his hold.
“Stop it,” he ordered against her ear.
The shiver that coursed through her body made him want to purr.
“Let go of me.” She bit out the words, but he noticed she wasn’t fighting that hard to get free.
“No.” He nipped at her earlobe and felt justified when her jaw dropped in outrage.
“I can’t believe,” Elle grumbled, “that after all the planning we put into the tech side of the op, you blew it by taking your phone?”
“I told you, I had two phones. I left the wrong one in the car with Dimitri. It was a mistake. I was in a hurry to get out of there and picked up my usual phone.”
This was exactly the kind of thing the guys were talking about. She relied far too much on chance and not enough on planning and training. That kind of attitude was a sure way to get yourself killed. In this business there was always a certain amount of risk, but training, planning and good backup minimised it. He was going to make damn sure Megan realised that fact.
“You and I are going to have a long talk later about all the risks you take,” Dimitri said against her ear. “Privately.”
She swallowed hard, but only made a token effort to get out of his grip.
“Just how big a threat is this guy?” Callum looked to Dimitri for the answer.
“Big.” Durand fit comfortably into the category labelled sociopath. “Story I heard was that, a few years ago, a guy in the States stole from him. Durand tracked him down. We’re talking bloodhound stuff here—he hunted the guy for months until he found him. Then he cut off his fingers, toes and tongue before slitting his throat. The guy was alive for days learning his ‘lesson’. Afterwards Durand made sure the message spread that no one gets the better of Reynard Durand. He will always find you and he will always exact revenge.”
Megan’s heart raced under his palm and he brushed his lips against her neck to reassure her. Durand would have to go through him to get to Megan. Delicate fingers curled around his wrist and she subtly shifted closer.
“Scotland,” Joe said. “He won’t forgive her for shooting him in the ass.”
“No.” Dimitri rubbed his thumb against her hip. “I was hoping he’d assume she was Claire and back off to let Rudi deal with her, but now he knows she’s Megan the chances of him leaving her alone are slim.”
“Great, we’ve got a psycho out for Megan. Just what we need.” Callum massaged the back of his neck.
“I can go back to Scotland,” Megan said. “Maybe if I just slip back into my old life, he won’t bother with me.”
Joe shook his head. “It’s too late now. He’s already warned you he’s coming. You’ll be more exposed in Scotland.”
“You’re staying here.” Dimitri made sure she heard the flint in his voice. There was no way she’d make him stand around helpless again while she was in danger. He was going to protect this woman whether she liked it or not.
“Bossy,” she grumbled, but stroked his arm at the same time.
“Got it!” Elle stopped typing and looked over at them. “He tracked her GPS. He has this address.” Her lips thinned. “Someone downloaded her contacts this afternoon. They know who she works for and where the office is. They also hacked her email and phone accounts.”
Dimitri heard a buzzing in his ears and it took him a minute to register it was his blood beginning to boil.
“I’m such an idiot,” Megan muttered to herself.
He cupped Megan’s chin and tilted her face back to his. Guilt. Her eyes were full of it.
“Yeah, this time you are.” He gave it to her straight.
She nodded, taking it on the chin and making him proud.
“We’re compromised. We need to get out of here. Pack it up.” Callum stood as he gave the order.
Rachel came back into the room, trailing a carry-on suitcase behind her. She was dressed in cream slacks and a cream off the shoulder sweater and her usual dominatrix heels.
“I heard,” she said as she walked into the middle of the room. She shook her head at Megan. “Idiot.”
“I know,” Megan said.
“I’ll get Julia. We’ll catch up with you downstairs.” Joe stalked past them, no doubt in order to search all of Rachel’s closets for their office manager.
Dimitri felt Megan slump against him. Defeated. Her spark had taken a hit, but these were lessons she needed to learn if she was going to work in the field. He eyed Callum. “What about them being fired?”
Callum clearly wasn’t happy with the situation. “Nobody’s fired. Yet. We need to sort this mess first before we deal with anything else. Let’s go.”
Elle grinned and shot Megan a thumbs up gesture, but Megan barely smiled in return. Good. She needed to take this seriously. She needed to feel the impact of her actions and decisions.
“I’ve booked two suites at the Savoy,” Rachel said.
Savoy? Dimitri arched an eyebrow at the woman. “We’re hiding out at one of London’s most exclusive hotels?”
Rachel gave him a cold look. “I don’t do slumming.”
“Savoy it is then.” He looked down at Megan, noting how perfectly she fit in his arms. He could tuck her under his chin and surround her. Protect her. He silently scoffed at his thoughts. Like Megan would ever let anyone protect her. Still, he filled his lungs with her strawberry scent. She didn’t need to know she was being protected now, did she?
“I need my shoes.” Megan pushed against his arms. Reluctantly, he freed her and then watched her dress cling to her backside as she bent down for her shoes. It showed every sensually perfect curve. Yeah, he really hated that dress.
“Rachel?” he called.
“What is it now?” Rachel snapped.
“Has the Savoy got any shops? Megan needs some new clothes.”
“Yes.” Rachel stuck her nose in the air. “There are a few boutiques, but I doubt very much Megan would find anything to her taste.”
“You mean I wouldn’t find anything I could afford,” Megan said. “Honestly, Rach, you are such a snob.”
“Yes, but I’m an accurate snob.”
Megan rolled her eyes as she looked at Dimitri. “Can we swing past the flat at the office so I can pick up some stuff?”
“Too dangerous.”
“Well, can we go to the Savoy via Oxford street? There’s a sale on in Top Shop.”
Dimitri just stared at her. Seriously?
“No shopping,” Callum barked.
“Oh for the love of all things Prada.” Rachel let out a dramatic sigh. “I’ll pay for some new clothes at the hotel.”
Knowing how independent Megan was and how much animosity was between her and Rachel, he expected her to refuse. Instead she grinned widely.
“I’m going to need one of everything,” she said as she followed Rachel out the door. “All I have on me is this dress and the bikini I stole from you.”
“What happened to your underwear?” Rachel said.
“I left it at Rudi’s house,” Megan said.
And Dimitri had to hold the wall for a second until he got that image out of his head. She’d stripped for Rudi Abramovich? Yeah, they were definitely going to have a very long, private chat once they got to the hotel.
Right after he burned that dress.
Chapter Twenty-Three
&
nbsp; Julia rushed down the hallway into a darkened room. When she flicked on the light switch she saw it was Rachel’s home office. Julia didn’t care what room it was, only that it was empty. She dumped her dress and shoes onto the desk and unwrapped the towel around her. Her slip was still wet from jumping into the pool like a scared rabbit. Only rabbits would burrow, not jump in water. She shook her head. The slip had to go. She could pull on her dress over her damp underwear. Not perfect, but there was no way she had the confidence to walk back out there without any underwear on.
She tugged the knee length slip over her head and looked around for somewhere to put it that wouldn’t be ruined by the water. That’s when the door opened. She squealed and scrambled for her towel, just in time to hold it in front of her before Joe stepped into the room.
“Joe! I’m getting dressed here.” Her cheeks burned and she unconsciously backed up until her hip hit the desk.
The room seemed to fill with his presence as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Julia felt her heart race. Her eyes flicked between Joe and the door. Without being able to stop herself she cast around for somewhere to hide. Her only option was under the desk. She took a step to the side, ready to run around the large wooden corporate desk and duck under it.
“Don’t even think about it, Jules,” Joe rumbled.
She froze in place. She knew her eyes were wide and she had the terrified look of a rabbit in headlights. It was just another one of the many things she’d change about herself if she could. Maybe, once this whole mess was over, she’d use her unemployment time to check into a clinic where they could reprogram her brain. Cognitive behavioural therapy. She’d tried it years earlier but had been told she was trying to change her personality, not her behaviour and it wouldn’t work. The therapist had been a lovely man. He’d told her there was nothing wrong with her. She’d laughed hard until she cried and he’d comforted her. All she could think was, if there was nothing wrong with her then why did she have so many problems doing things other people took for granted. Maybe another clinic would be willing to give her a go.
“Whatever you’re thinking,” Joe said, “stop it.”
She blinked at him before her eyes shot down to stare at the cream carpet. “You can’t read minds. You don’t know what I’m thinking.” She paused, realising that wasn’t what she meant to say. “I mean, I’m thinking that I need to get dressed and you need to leave for me to do that.”
“No.” He folded his arms and turned into a wall.
“No?” It came out shaky. Did he want to watch her getting dressed? That was all kinds of wrong.
“We’re heading out and I need a minute to talk to you.”
“I need to get dressed.”
“Then do it. I’m not stopping you.”
Her face was so hot she felt like her hair might catch fire. “I can’t do that in front of you.”
“Fine.” He turned and gave her his back. “Get on with it. I want to look in your eyes when I say my piece.”
Julia just stood frozen to the spot.
“Julia.” His voice seemed to drop an octave. “Get dressed or I’ll do it for you.”
His words jerked her into action. She dropped the towel and fumbled for her dress, pulling it over her head and hoping the dampness from her underwear wouldn’t seep through the material. Although, the ugly brown fabric probably wouldn’t show the marks. She smoothed her hand down the dress. It was crinkled, but it covered her from below the knee to under her chin. It was her invisibility cloak. She’d bought it especially so as not to attract any attention to herself.
“You done?” Joe’s voice jerked her back to reality with a thump.
“Ah, yes.” She slipped into her low heeled brown pumps. The last time she’d seen her sister, Belinda had pointed out that the Queen wore exactly the same shoes. She then threatened to take Julia shopping. It had taken half an hour to talk her fashion junkie sister out of that idea.
Joe turned slowly and Julia waited nervously for whatever he had to say. It had to be about the plan she’d helped Megan execute. She was under no illusion that she was as much to blame as Megan. In fact probably more so. They’d all had a role to play in the planning: Rachel’s had been oversight and pharmaceuticals, Elle’s was tech and getaway car, Julia’s was ideas, coordination and strategy and Megan, well, she was the muscle.
“I know what you’re going to say.” Julia held up a hand in the hope it would keep him where he was, which was close enough. “I shouldn’t have helped Megan. It was irresponsible.”
“Yeah, it was, but that wasn’t what I was going to say.” He stalked towards her.
Julia backed up until she almost bent backwards over the desk.
“Joe?” She hated that her voice was a trembling squeak.
He placed a hand on either side of her, palms flat on the desk. His face was inches from her, his eyes dark with an intensity she had no experience in reading.
“Joe?” It was a whisper.
“Here’s the thing.” His voice was chocolate smooth. “Yeah, you were in the wrong, but I get why you did it. I do.”
Then why didn’t she feel reassured by his words? And why was her mouth suddenly dry? Dealing with Joe was akin to living in a country where she didn’t know the customs and didn’t speak the language.
“Good?” she whispered. “Thanks?”
His eyes crinkled. Amused. Yet still intense. It was disconcerting.
“I realised something today while you four were off playing renegade.”
“Okay?” Her fingers curled around the edge of the desk.
“I realised that I’m done being patient. When I heard what you lot had done, when I saw Megan walking in there alone, I was angry. I’ll admit it. But mainly I was scared out of my mind that you’d put yourself on Abramovich’s radar.”
His words sucked the air out of her lungs, making it hard to breathe. “Why would that make you scared?”
“Because…” Joe’s head fell forward, his eyes closed. “You would have been in danger. Even more so than you are now. And Rudi Abramovich isn’t someone you want after you.”
“I understand,” she said. It was his need to protect that had taken a hit.
“No, you don’t.” It was a low, obstinate drawl. “You and me, there’s something there.”
“W-what?” Oh, she needed badly to run and hide. Her fingernails bit into the desk as she held on tight.
“I’ve been taking it slow. Waiting for you.” He looked up at her through those thick lashes. “I’m done waiting.”
She was going to faint. Pass out. Possibly die. She knew it. Her heart was racing so fast it would have been impossible to count the beats. It was impossible to breathe. Her lungs didn’t work. They’d seized. She was trapped by Joe’s dark eyes. Paralysed in a gaze that seemed to see right through her.
“I’m putting you on notice,” he whispered. “You and me? We’re going to happen.”
Slowly, oh so slowly, he closed the distance and his lips brushed hers. Julia sucked in a breath, a gasp that made her dizzy. Her lips burned where he touched. Gently, softly, he rubbed his lips across hers. It set off a chain reaction. Tingles from her lips straight to her fingers and toes. Julia couldn’t think. She couldn’t move. She just stared at the man in front of her.
“Get ready.” She felt his words as a breath on her lips. “I’m coming for you.”
Leaning back, he kept his eyes on hers. It was as though he could see deep inside her. With one last, dark look, he turned and sauntered from the room, as though he hadn’t just reduced her to a puddle of confused need and fear on Rachel’s cream carpet. With trembling fingers, Julia lifted her fingertips to her lips. She still felt him there and that’s when she realised it wasn’t a kiss, it was a brand.
Joe was coming for her. He’d lost patience in his pursuit of her. She hadn’t even known he’d been pursuing her. Her mind couldn’t cope with this. It had officially overloaded. She forced her body to move as she gat
hered up her slip and towel.
“Get a move on, Jules,” Joe called. “We need to get out of here and the team are waiting downstairs.”
She hurried out of the apartment, clutching the sodden towel and slip to her. She kept her eyes firmly off the man beside her as they rode the elevator down to the garage. It didn’t matter what he thought would happen between them, or what he wanted. It didn’t even matter that Joe had a starring role in most of her X-rated dreams. Or that one smile from him made her heartbeat stutter. All that mattered was one irrefutable truth—there was no way she could handle a man like Joe Barone. No way at all.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“I can’t believe I’m in the Savoy,” Elle said as they were escorted to their suite of rooms by a butler.
Megan was sure that if it had been under any other circumstances than her putting the team in danger, she would have been excited too.
“You can borrow my phone if you want to send some pics to Claire,” Elle said.
“Maybe tomorrow.”
Callum shot her a tight glance. “Or maybe never. I don’t think we need to put our location on Instagram, do you?”
Yeah, that shot hit its mark. “Seriously? You think I’m dumb enough to go public with our hideout?”
“I have no idea exactly how dumb you are,” Callum said. “To be honest, I’m hoping I never find out.”
“Are you Jeeves or Wooster?” Elle asked the butler. “And who wrote those books again?”
“The author was P.G. Wodehouse, madam,” the butler said. “Jeeves was the butler and Wooster was his employer.” He looked thoroughly bored at the question and Megan wondered how many times the guy had been asked it.
“See?” Elle looked over her shoulder at the frowning faces of her teammates. “I knew he’d know.”
“Oh for the love of Chanel,” Rachel muttered.
If Megan had been in a better mood, she may have found it funny that the princess of darkness was swanning through one of London’s most exclusive hotels with a group of ragamuffins in tow.
Reckless (Benson's Boys Book 1) Page 17