Behind Closed Doors (The Mccloud Series Book 1)

by Shannon McKenna

  She huddled inside her thin stole. “Hear what?”

  “Why you broke your promise. Why you didn’t tell me what you were doing today?”

  She sank down onto the cushion of the bench, and twisted the crumpled blue taffeta of her skirt, organizing her thoughts. “I knew you would be working all morning,” she began slowly. “I didn’t want you to worry. And overreact.”

  “I see.” He waited.

  She closed her eyes against his intense scrutiny, and allowed herself to feel the true depths of her exhaustion. “I wasn’t ready to tell you, or any other person that I was Victor Lazar’s niece,” she admitted. “I’m very glad you know now, though. Anyone who wants to can know now, since Victor knew all along. And I thought I was being so crafty.”

  “Tell you what, babe. It didn’t look so terrible, all decked out in the ball gown with Grandma’s necklace on. Victor’s pampered darling. You took to it pretty smooth, if you ask me.”

  “I didn’t plan that!” she protested. “He sent me out here to work, Seth! I got shanghaied by a gang of women who wrestled me down and dressed me like a doll! I didn’t know what else to do, so I went with it!”

  “Let’s see how you turned out. Come on, open up the shawl and let me take a look.”

  He yanked the stole open. It slipped to the floor, and he stopped her lunge to catch it, seizing her upper arms. She jerked away at the rough contact, but his grip was hard and fast. “I love what that dress does for your tits,” he said. “So did every other man in the room. Did you see them all staring, Raine? You must have. Did you like it?”

  “Don’t, Seth.” She touched his face, trying to get him to meet her eyes, but he was staring fixedly at her body. He grabbed the bottom of the tight bodice and yanked it down. The tops of her breasts spilled out over the neckline, her nipples taut and puckered from the cold.

  She tried to slap his hands away. “Stop it, Seth! You have got to stop wrecking my clothes!”

  “No problem, princess. Uncle Victor will buy you another one.” Seth’s hands slid hungrily up over the front of her bodice, cupping her breasts and rolling her nipples between his fingers.

  “It’s not like that,” she protested.

  “Oh no?” His hands slid down, cupping her bottom. “I like this skirt. I’d like to fuck you with all that shiny stuff rustling around you, and your nipples poking out of that corset. This dress was made for sex. Most dresses a guy just wants to rip off so he can get on with it, but this one, whoa. This one can stay on, no problem.”

  She grabbed his wrists and tried to drag them off of her. “Stop it,” she hissed. “Don’t you dare touch me when you’re angry. I—”

  “And check out the sparkler. The crowning touch.” He held the opal pendant up to the light. “Victor’s princess was a good girl today, huh?”

  “I told you, it belonged to my grandmother, and it was a—oh!”

  He snapped the jeweled clasp and flung it behind him. It bounced off the wall with a ping and clattered to the floor. “Now if you’d get your hair down and wipe some of that paint off, I might even recognize you.”

  That was it. The outrage inside her coalesced. She launched herself at him with a shout of fury. Seth let out a surprised grunt as he fell back onto the bench. She landed on top of him. The boat rocked wildly. “Goddamn it, Seth,” she hissed. “You listen to me.”

  He opened his mouth. She clapped her hand over it. “I said listen!”

  His eyes bored into hers for a moment. He gave a short nod.

  She was so startled at his acquiescence that for a long, panting moment, she could think of nothing to say. She squeezed her eyes shut and searched for words. “You say you can feel what I really want, no matter what I might say to the contrary, you arrogant bastard. What I really want right now is for you to calm down and listen to me like a rational, civilized man. Not a lunatic with rocks in his head. Can you do that for me, Seth? I challenge you to do that for me.”

  He stared up at her for a moment, and the smile lines around his eyes crinkled. He nodded, and his face changed beneath her hand.

  He was smiling. She lifted her hand away.

  “This position really does it for me,” he said softly.

  She looked down. She was straddling him, resting against what had become a very prominent erection. He radiated heat even through all the layers of fabric. She scrambled to her feet.

  “Don’t even,” she snapped. “Forget it. I’m not finished!”

  “Go right ahead. Tell me some more stories.” His eyes were still fixed on her breasts, which were still overflowing their bounds extravagantly. “The view’s great from here, no matter what you say.”

  “I was not lying to you, damn it!”

  “Keep it down, babe.”

  “Stop goading me, then! And don’t call me that!” She rearranged her bodice until it more or less encompassed her breasts. “I never lied to you. The only thing I withheld was my father’s real name, and—”

  “Pretty goddamn important detail, if you ask me.”

  “As I was saying,” she went on icily, “everything I told you is true, and a matter of public record. Check on my story all you want.”

  Their eyes locked, and she stood there quietly for long, silent minutes and let him probe her with his burning gaze. She didn’t allow herself to look away or flinch.

  He seized a handful of her skirt and tugged her till she swayed towards him. “So where’d you go today, sweetheart?” His voice was soft and challenging. He pulled until she was standing between his legs, clasped her hips with his big, warm hands and waited for her answer.

  She was cautiously encouraged by the gentle physical contact. “I went to see the doctor who signed my father’s autopsy report,” she told him. “She told me that there were two FBI agents investigating Victor at the time. She remembered one of their names. I tracked him down, too. My father was going to testify against Victor back in the summer of ’85. He drowned before he had the chance.”

  Seth’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He made no comment.

  Her mouth tightened as she thought of the interview with Bill Haley. “The guy wasn’t very encouraging,” she said. “He basically told me to keep my head down and be a good girl.”

  “That was damn good advice,” Seth said. “Say the word, and I’ll start up this motor and get you the hell away from here. For good.”

  Raine closed her eyes and let herself imagine it, for one wistful, weary moment. She shook her head. “No. The dreams will never stop if I run. I’ll spend some time with Victor tomorrow, and see what happens. He wants to show me his collection. Whatever that is.”

  Seth stroked the slick taffeta that covered her bottom, a remote, calculating look in his eyes. “His collection? Is that so?”

  She nodded, steadying herself on his shoulders. Exhaustion rolled over her, and she swayed closer. He pulled her gently down until she was perched on his lap, his arms clasped around her waist.

  She should be furious with him. He had behaved very badly but now he was nuzzling her bosom and kissing her neck, the slick, seductive bastard. She was too tired and dizzy to protest. She leaned against him, soaking up his sustaining heat. An idea came to her.

  “Seth?” she whispered.

  “Hmm?” He kissed the top of one of her breasts, then the other, then buried his face in her cleavage. “What?”

  “I was wondering if you could…help me.”

  “Help you what?” His head lifted. He frowned at her.

  “Gather information,” she said softly. “I’m just blundering along. I know that you have a lot of experience in—in—”

  “Sneaking around in the dark? Engaging in morally questionable activities to find out things that are none of my goddamn business?”

  She nodded eagerly. “Exactly. I could really use some pointers.”

  He nuzzled her shoulder. She could actually feel the quality of his concentration, buzzing like electricity as he pondered her request. The boat rocked g
ently back and forth like a cradle as she waited. Water lapped against it in a slow, gurgling rhythm that measured his silence.

  He looked up. “I’ll do it. But you have to do something for me.”

  Heat swept up into her face. He let out a harsh laugh. “No, sweetheart. Not what you’re thinking. I’ll have that no matter what deal we cut. We don’t negotiate with that coin. Got it?”

  She nodded, waiting for the blush to subside before she dared to speak. “What is it that you want from me, then?” she ventured timidly.

  His hand slid over her bare back, stroking her as if she were a wild animal that might bolt. “A favor. You said Victor wants to show you his collection tomorrow, right?”

  Butterflies began to flutter in her belly. “Yes,” she said slowly. “Why?”

  “There’s an item in that collection that I want to track. I don’t want to steal anything. I just want to gather information.”

  Things clicked quietly into place, and she acknowledged with her conscious mind what she had sensed from the beginning. “It’s just like I thought,” she said softly. “You’re not here to upgrade Lazar’s inventory system, are you, Seth? You’ve had your own agenda all along.”

  His face was expressionless. He didn’t try to hold her when she slid off his lap and backed away. “Do you want my help or not, Raine?”

  She hated the cold, implacable tone in his voice, but she was lost, and he was the only path she could see. “Yes,” she whispered.

  “What I want from you is simple. I want you to plant a tracking device on one of the items in Victor’s collection. The transmitter is tiny, about the size of a grain of rice. No big deal.”

  She plucked the stole off the floor and wrapped it around herself, shivering. “Why can’t you just sneak in and plant it yourself?”

  His lips twitched. “I’m good, but I’m not that good. That vault is a steel-reinforced concrete armored room with ultrasonic Doppler and passive infrared motion detectors, just for starters. I could probably pull it off, but not without a lot of planning. And I’m on a tight schedule.”

  She gulped. “A tight schedule for what?”

  “Are you up to it?”

  She wobbled on her spike heels, and steadied herself against the table. “You want me to…plant a tracking device,” she repeated softly. “But why? What’s the item that you want to track?”

  “Is that a yes?”

  She sank down on the bench opposite him and crumpled a handful of peacock blue taffeta anxiously in both hands. “I don’t know if I could pull a thing like that off,” she told him, with utter sincerity. “I’m not very slick or devious, and I’m not a very good liar.”

  “You’re learning, babe. You’re learning every day.”

  His words stung, but when she looked into his face, she saw no mockery or irony at all. He looked somber and watchful.

  It occurred to her that if she were to say no, she could find herself in more serious trouble than she had ever imagined. Raine forced herself to examine that ugly possibility. She pushed the thought away.

  She might be fooling herself, but her deepest instincts told her that Seth would never hurt her. At least not intentionally. And if this was the devil’s bargain that fate saw fit to offer her, fine. She would take it, and be grateful. She took a deep breath. “OK. I’ll do it.”

  He nodded. “Good. Listen carefully, because we’re not going over this again after we leave the boat. It’s a Walther PPK pistol. It might be in a carrying case, it might be in a plastic bag, in which case it’ll be harder to plant the transmitter. Improvise if you can. If you can’t, you can’t. Don’t take stupid risks. If it’s not smooth and simple, let it go.”

  “What’s special about this pistol?”

  “It’s the murder weapon in the Corazon case.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “But—oh, no. Oh God. What is Victor doing with a thing like that?”

  A grim smile curved Seth’s mouth. “That, sweetheart, is a question that a whole lot of people would love to have the answer to. I’m not one of them, though.”

  “No?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t give a shit how he got it or why he wanted it. All I want is to know where it goes from here. Not one word of this once we’re off this boat, Raine. It’s like we never mentioned it.”

  “I understand,” she said. “Why do you want to track this thing?”

  “Don’t worry about it, babe.”

  She bristled like an offended cat. “I’d rather you snap at me than condescend to me.”

  “Fine. I’ll bear that in mind the next time you ask for information that’s completely irrelevant and useless to you.”

  “You don’t trust me at all, do you, Seth?” she challenged him. “You know all my secrets, but you won’t give one inch with your own.”

  His eyes glittered at her, implacable. “Live with it. You want to take Victor down? Then do as I say, and don’t ask questions. Because you need help, sweetheart. You are a walking disaster on your own.”

  Her face reddened, and she tore her gaze away, stung. She wanted so badly for him to trust her, and it was a stupid, useless, hopeless wish. She huddled into her stole. “Now what?”

  His eyes slid down her body, lingering on her breasts. “Victor invited me to this party to entertain you.” He grabbed her wrists and tugged her gently to her feet. “I want to fulfill my function.”

  She sighed. “Seth, are you capable of thinking about anything besides sex for more than thirty seconds at a time?”

  “I used to be,” he said ruefully. He sank to his knees and lifted the billowing skirt. The rough, callused places on his palms snagged and caught at her delicate hose as he swept his warm hands up her thighs. “My concentration skills used to be unbelievable. You trashed them, Raine. So make use of what’s left of me. You might as well.”

  She threaded all of her fingers into the thick, silky brush of his hair, quivering as he put his hand between her legs. He stroked her lace-shielded mound in a feather-light, teasing touch.

  “Let’s seal our bargain right here,” he suggested. “You won’t be cold when I’m done with you. You’ll be hotter than hell. All that fancy makeup will melt off, and your hair will fall down, and you won’t even remember what happened to your underwear.”

  She stared into his eyes, resisting the dark magic of his voice. In this cold, manipulative mood, she sensed that he wouldn’t yield his self-control to her for a second. He probably wouldn’t even bother to take off his clothes. She would be the naked one who ended up in a trembling, sobbing heap. She wanted him, but on her own terms. She had to change this unbalanced power dynamic. For his sake and hers.

  “Not here,” she said, in a cool, sharp voice.

  His fingers stopped in their probing caress. “Why not?”

  “I don’t want it like this. On the floor, or standing up. I like my comforts,” she said haughtily.

  His eyes narrowed. “Excuse me, princess.”

  She clutched the stole around herself, shivering. “Don’t call me that unless you mean it,” she snapped. “My room up in the tower has a kingsize four-poster bed. Hand-embroidered linens, cashmere blankets and a white lace coverlet.”

  He grunted. “Cool. Guys like me go nuts for white lace coverlets.”

  He reached around for the leather jacket that was hanging on a hook, and she took the opportunity to scoop the broken pendant swiftly into her hand. She kept it hidden when he turned back, careful not to threaten the fragile new equilibrium between them. He draped the jacket over her shoulders and wrapped his arms around her. She huddled against him, scrabbling until she found an inside pocket.

  She slipped it into the pocket and pulled the zipper shut.

  No matter what Victor might or might not be guilty of, that fiery opal was her only link to her grandmother. She’d be damned if she would throw it away just to placate Seth. This was the opening move in her grand campaign to stop being pushed around. By everyone.

  Chapter
17

  The walk back up to the house was utterly silent. He clasped her shoulders, his mind racing with the effort to justify his crazy impulse. It was an incredible gamble, but irresistible. The symmetry of it felt so right; that this chance should present itself to him just in time, and by Victor’s own flesh and blood. Poetic. His instincts screamed to seize the moment, get on with it, so he could find out once and for all if there was something on the other side or not. And he wasn’t misleading Raine by promising to help, either. If he got his revenge, by definition she would have hers, too. The desired end result for both of them was the same. He could close this thing, and she could finally be safe.

  Yeah, right. Pitting her against Lazar and Novak was one hell of a way to keep her safe. Or himself, either, for that matter. He might’ve just signed his own death warrant, but what the hell. If she couldn’t be trusted, then she didn’t need rescuing anyway, and he was used to thinking of himself as a dead man.

  She led him up a spiral staircase though he could barely see in the stygian darkness. At the door, he pushed her behind him and peered in, scanning the place carefully before he let her enter.

  He knew that this house was full of eyes and ears, but even if he hadn’t known, he would have sensed them. He could actually feel a camera’s cold, unblinking gaze against his skin.

  He locked the door, opened his bag and mounted the portable squealer onto the door frame. One of Kearn’s bored-on-his-coffee-break inventions, handy when you wanted privacy. He pulled out the probe monitor, and began to methodically sweep the walls.

  Raine sat down on the bed. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Sweeping for bugs.” He grabbed a fragile-looking antique chair and climbed onto it, hoping it would bear his weight.

  Her eyes widened. “You think that—”

  “I don’t think. I know. That’s why he invited me here. He wants to watch us, and probably film us. For posterity.”

  “I don’t believe that!”

  Under other circumstances, he would have laughed at the prim horror in her voice, but he was too concentrated on his task. “Victor likes to watch,” he said bluntly. “And I know exactly how much money he’s willing to spend on toys like this.”