Burning Intensity (13 page)

Front and center were the main couple. Cezanne had drawn in clear, great detail, a gorgeous man and woman. A blonde Caucasian woman was clasped in the embrace of an olive-skinned, dark-haired man. They were both stunningly naked.

El didn’t know if it was her own current frame of mind, or perhaps the edgy darkness of the canvas itself, but the embrace seemed intimate, passionate and possibly even forced. The nakedness of the couple along with the fact that the woman’s body was arched, the man clasping her to him, reminded her of how in the heat of sensual lovemaking, anyone could look as though they were in ecstasy or pain.

Now she looked further, she wondered if, in fact, this mid-climax was what Cezanne had captured. While at first she had thought the man might be forcing the woman, it could just as easily be that they were clenched together, locked mid-coitus. Whichever it was, the man and woman had eyes and senses fully riveted only upon each other. Forced or consensual, the painting reeked of intimacy, sensuality and the burning intensity only the greatly aroused and highly inflamed erotic senses can be.

“It’s a powerful piece, isn’t it?” she murmured.

James peered at it over her shoulder. “Powerful, enticing, erotic and faintly disturbing,” he agreed, his gaze roaming over the canvas.

El had the feeling that James could look for years at this piece and never grow tired of it. She thought he tried to consume it with his eyes alone. Returning her own gaze, she understood. The piece was compelling to say the least. She wouldn’t mind a copy of it herself, a cheap print she could place somewhere that would catch her eye frequently. Enticing and clearly controversial, she understood how deeply elemental this image could prove to be to many people, regardless of their artistic tastes.

“Art is frequently controversial,” she commented. “I bet people have argued since this was first shown, about whether this is the intoxicating embrace of passionate love, or something darker, more despondent.”

“I couldn’t agree more. But then, that’s why so often we close the door on our most private moments. Viewed from the outside and out of context, many things can appear completely different from what they are.”

“Absolutely,” she agreed, looking up at him. They shared a speaking glance. El felt her heart overflow with love.

“I’ve got to call this in, and I need to leave another message for Rob. James… Thank you. For everything.”

James cupped her jaw and they shared a lingering, passionate kiss. El could sense a lifetime’s worth of passion burning in the kiss and it made her heart sing. When they pulled away she had to restrain herself from dragging him close for more. Flying high on the thrill of success, she pulled out her phone again. James rolled the Cezanne back up and replaced it in the tube. El pressed the speed dial for Rob’s phone.

Frowning as she got his voicemail again, she tried to shrug off her worry.

“Rob, it’s El. We’ve found it! The…erm, painting.” Only at the last minute did she recall the lack of privacy and safety of mobile phones. Discretion was always needed on these. “Look, I know you need a break, some sleep, but seriously— We’ve got it. James and I are heading back to HQ. There was a safe in the target’s flat. It’s complicated, but we’ve recovered what we need. Get back to me, soon.”

“Should we swing by Robert’s place?” James offered.

El thought about that for a moment then shook her head.

“I’ll give him an hour to contact me. We’ll send out the cavalry if I don’t hear from him soon. I’m probably a little oversensitive since it’s not every day I come face to face with a safe wrapped in explosives. I’m understandably twitchy and paranoid now. Besides, Calloway and the others are safely locked up. We’re just wrapping up loose ends here.”

James slung his arm around her shoulders and handed her the tube with the Cezanne safely stored within. She grinned, unable to hide her pleasure at both having possession of the painting and the man next to her.

“We did good,” she complimented him. His gaze as it rested upon her face was filled with love.

“Too right, we did. Let’s go brag to Waldron and the others.”

Nodding, she let him guide her from the room, more than happy to follow where he led.

Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:

The Agency: Unearthed Treasure

Elizabeth Lapthorne

Excerpt

Chapter One

Chelsea Atchison cast a brief look at her partner as she swiped her security pass to open the ‘Employee Only’ door. David Greer lifted an unsteady hand and tugged a stray lock of his shoulder-length hair behind his ear, his face reflecting the same confusion and surprise she felt.

The lock beeped and she depressed the handle. Brushing her long, dark brown curls away from her face she hurried through the door. She held it open until David Greer also passed through.

He shut the door behind them, the lock snicking audibly.

Her heart hammered, though she tried not to outwardly betray her concern.

So far their plans had turned totally to shit.

“What the hell happened out there?” she asked with a vague wave at the enormous main foyer of the National Gallery of London—where they’d just left. “None of this was supposed to happen. It sounded like a rocket launcher went off, and damned if the whole front façade of the building isn’t decimated. We’ve been planning for this afternoon for almost eighteen months, and now, mere hours from our goal, everything goes wrong.”

“If by going wrong you mean half the city’s police force are now likely on their way, yes, I think it’s clear something is amiss,” David replied.

Chelsea halted in the middle of the long corridor they had been hurrying through. Annoyed by the part sarcastic, part amused lilt to her partner’s tone she pressed her hands to her hips and glared at him.

Of medium height and lithe build, it was only when one looked into those warm brown, steady eyes that David’s intelligence and solid strength could be seen. Chelsea had trusted him from the moment she’d gotten a real, lasting look into his gaze. But it had been the sporadic flicker of a smile that helped soften his features. That, coupled with his lush, shoulder-length, medium brown hair got her heart pattering faster than usual.

David would never be a cover model, or sinfully handsome, but he more than revved her engines and set her breath racing from a casual glance.

“Don’t you take that tone with me. I played my part to the letter. I warned you that woman Jennifer was trouble the moment you told me she’d seen you bury the box with the spare security card and blueprints in it. Anyone would be curious after having seen that. I’m surprised it took so long for her and that Agency fellow Saul to put the pieces together.”

“You agreed we should keep the London branch of the Agency out of this. I explained the situation to you. I never lied.”

Chelsea sighed. She could just make out the sound of approaching sirens. They both kept walking, though more calmly now.

“I know. But we’ve come so far, we’re so close to hearing what the smugglers consider the main goal—Phase Two to their plan.”

“We’ll get there,” David insisted in a low tone. “If you want to back out, to call it quits—”

“Bite your tongue,” she replied.

Chelsea turned her head to look over her shoulder at David. He watched her carefully, his dark brown eyes serious. She knew his lithe build was deceptive, he didn’t look anywhere near as physically strong as she knew he was. Brown hair fell in a soft curtain to graze his shoulders and frame his angular face. Normally she loved hearing him speak, the faint lilt of his accent reminding her of home and warmth—of comfort.

She reached out and surprised them both by taking his hand, threading their fingers together.

“We’re a team,” she said firmly. “There is not a person on this planet more fierce or stubborn than the two of us. I know we’ve had our problems, particularly when we were first partnered for this mission. But over the last year and a half I’ve come to rely on your instincts, I listen to your judgments and we make all our decisions together. We’re partners. Equals. Unless you’re wanting to back out of this mission I don’t want to hear another word about giving up, especially not for something as insulting as you wanting to protect me.”

“No one is more important to me than you,” he said with a simple, brutal honesty. Chelsea smiled, certain there would be some joke or additional comment coming on the heels of his statement, but David simply watched her, seemingly waiting for her response. Her smile faded. She realized he meant the words exactly as he’d said them.

“David,” she stammered, surprised, pleased, excited. A whirl of emotions grew inside her as she understood that the growing attraction she was feeling for this man was reciprocated. Heavy boots sounded from behind them.

They both turned to glance back, then simultaneously broke into a run.

“Damn it,” Chelsea cursed. “This is not the fucking time. I just can’t catch a break with you, can I?”

“If it wasn’t this it would be something else,” David replied with a wry grin. “The rest of the smuggling team, armed assault agents, something.”

“This conversation isn’t over,” she promised him. “But maybe we should get somewhere secure first.”

Chelsea swiped her security pass beside one of the offices. It was a medium-sized room shared by three of the Gallery’s employees and for the most part was unremarkable. What made this particular office of interest to them was the fact that it had a small window looking out onto the back gardens.

David hefted a chair and threw it through the glass. It shattered with an almighty crash. Chelsea wasn’t fazed by the cacophony that followed—she knew everyone would be busy with the burning wreckage over at the front of the Gallery. She doubted anyone would even notice the damage until they were long gone.

“Security systems are all down,” Chelsea recalled with relief. “Since one of those idiots decided to shoot the hell out of the front of the Gallery every alarm has been blaring for nearly five minutes now, hence the police. Was that really a rocket launcher which they’d used to destroy one of the columns out front?”

“Remember how Thaddeus kept on boasting he could get his hands on anything—even a tank or a single person rocket launcher?” David reminded her.

Groaning, Chelsea nodded. Thaddeus was one of the more unstable men in the crew they were working undercover in. She realized he must have been given free rein to prove his boasts. She could well imagine how the pieces fitted together, now. Chelsea climbed onto the sill of the window, making sure the glass panes were all removed and wouldn’t cut her as she climbed through.

“Who let Thaddeus have his party?”

Chelsea waited on the ledge while David climbed up beside her.

“I believe it was Phillipe,” David replied. Chelsea groaned again. Kent Phillipe was the very paranoid leader of the crew. Something about the deal had definitely turned sour if he’d gotten an itchy trigger finger this late in the game.

“Let’s go,” she said. Together they jumped out of the window, falling about ten feet onto soft grass. They both landed smoothly and walked quickly away from the Square. Lights flashed everywhere, dozens of ambulances, police cars and emergency response vehicles having converged around the Gallery, with still more arriving and blocking traffic.

Dressed in a navy, pencil-slim skirt and suit jacket, Chelsea could pass for any regular businesswoman walking the streets. David had nondescript black slacks and a leather jacket on. Not concerned in the least about blending in, they moved out onto the street.

David threw his arm around Chelsea’s shoulder. She tossed her long curls back and hugged him in return, her hand lightly resting on his waist. They walked easily in time with each other, their bodies leaning close together, the very image of lovers out for a romantic stroll.

When they were most of the way down the street, Chelsea spoke again.

“Should we call Phillipe? Or McIlroy?”

“You’d risk checking in with the Agency?” David replied, sounding surprised.

“He is our boss.” She chuckled before growing more serious. “If we’ve possibly been compromised then the Dublin branch needs to know what’s going on, and what we’ve learnt. Even though we don’t know their final target they might have time to discover it some other way.”

“There wasn’t another way to breach this group,” David reminded her. “That’s why we were called in. Look, we’ve been undercover together, breaking who knows how many laws for eighteen months. One, maybe two more weeks and we’ll be out and free, finally. I’d like to see it through. I know you would too.”

Chelsea sighed but nodded. He knew her so well, better than anyone else alive.

“Hey,” he said softly, pulling her close. Chelsea rested her head on his shoulder, soaking up the support he offered her unconditionally. “Something’s bugging you, what is it?”

She pressed her lips together at first, not wanting to speak the words aloud, to admit the growing knot of tension and feelings in the base of her stomach. But this was David. For more than a year now she’d had no one else to turn to, no one she had been able to rely on, speak to with any semblance of honesty or just be with. She could trust him with everything and anything. Most important of all, she’d come to love this man, to need him on every level and crave his presence more than an addict requires their drug of choice.