Caught in Amber (10 page)

“A regular white knight, eh?”

“More like dirty gray.”

Guy laughed then grew serious. “You believe this thing in Kettrick will work?”

That did surprise her, and she couldn’t keep it off her face. “Don’t you? Why tell him it was a good idea if you weren’t sure?”

He shook his head. “No such thing as sure in this business, Sasha. Deals and arrangements are just more or less safe compared to one another.” He turned toward a side table, where a decanter of dark liquid sat on a silver tray. “Wine?”

“Thanks.” She followed and waited for him to hand her a glass. “If I didn’t believe it would work, do you think I would have bothered you with it?”

Guy sipped his drink. “At first I thought you were trying to make a quick credit for your new boyfriend or something.” His tone was even, unemotional, but there was jealousy in his blue eyes.

“I told you, Nate and I aren’t involved. He’s only interested in a business deal, not me.”

She heard the bitterness in her own voice and nearly kicked herself for it. She stared into her wine a moment, recalling the deep, earthy scent of Sterling’s firm body when he’d held her outside The Morrissey the night before. The idea of a man like Sterling doing those things because he truly felt something for her left an ache deep inside her.

Sasha grit her teeth and focused on Guy.

Doubt narrowed his gaze. “I find that hard to believe.”

Sasha scoffed, dulling the pain of what would never be by drinking half her wine. Smooth and sweet, it left a pleasant warmth in her throat. “There’s nothing between us.”

He set his glass beside the decanter and shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “What about Marco?”

The mouthful of wine she had just swallowed almost reversed its path. Was he talking about last night, or five years ago? The memories of both incidents nauseated her. She arched an eyebrow and prayed there was enough puzzlement on her face to fool him. “What about him?”

Guy was unreadable, the calm before a dangerous storm. “He left with you last night and didn’t return for over two hours.”

Marco wouldn’t have been dumb enough to tell Guy he’d tried to drag her into the alley then been taken down and left out in the cold, but he’d have had an interesting story to tell Guy upon his return. How had he explained the damage to his face? Too bad she’d missed that bit of fiction.

Sasha shrugged. “I don’t know. He saw me to my car and I went home.”

“Alone?”

“Yes, alone.” Surprise and disgust made her wince. “Did you think I invited him back to my flat? I barely know the man.”

“But you knew him before, when we were together.” Guy bent forward, his head just below her eye level, and peered up at her through his lashes. A conspiratorial posture, as if what they said would just be between the two of them. “He seemed more than a little undone when he came back inside.”

The anger that shot through her added to the turmoil in her gut. “So you assume we did something to get reacquainted.” Sasha shook her head, keeping the memories of last night—of five years ago—as far back in her brain as possible. “Thanks, Guy. It’s nice to know you think so highly of me.”

She set her glass beside his and marched across the room toward the door, shaking. For the second time in two days, she’d challenged Guy by walking away from him, but she didn’t care. At some point, however, it was going to make him very angry.

“Sasha, wait.” His hand on her shoulder stopped her, but she didn’t face him. “I’m sorry. It’s not you I don’t trust.”

That made her turn around. “It isn’t?”

He lowered his hands, fists at his sides. “I’m not blind, you know. I’ve seen how men look at you, and Marco was no exception.”

Sasha’s chin came up, indignation hot on her cheeks and radiating into her chest. “And he told you that we got busy in the alley among the empty bottles and pools of piss and vomit?”

To his credit, his face reddened and he glanced down at his pricey shoes. When he looked at her again, there was anger in his eyes. Meant for her or Marco? “Said he saw you to your car then went for a walk. Said he was a mess because a couple of slags jumped him, but he fought them off. I didn’t believe him.”

“No, you believed I came to see you after almost five years and decided a great way to kick off a deal was to do one of your men in the street. And then what, beat the shit out of him?” She started toward the door again. “If this is how you see me, how you think I’ll behave, then we have no business together. My part is done. Deal with Hollings on your own from now on if it’ll make you feel more secure.”

“Wait.” Guy grabbed her upper arm and swung her toward him.

“Let go.” She tried to pull out of his grasp, but he squeezed harder and wrapped his other hand around her other arm as well.

“Damn it, Sasha.” He pulled her against his chest, his face centis from hers. “Shut up and let me explain.”

She held his gaze, breathing slowly through her nose to control herself, to keep herself from kneeing him in the crotch and running. From the struggle behind his eyes, she knew he wanted to tell her something important. Something that might help her or Sterling? That didn’t mean he could treat her like one of his possessions, like he used to treat her. How she had let him treat her.

When she spoke, her voice was stronger than she’d expected. “Let. Go.”

To her surprise, he did.

Funny how Sterling had kept her in the car last night when she wanted out, yet Guy let her go. Sterling had torqued her, but she understood he needed information to plan the next move.

What did letting her go say about Guy’s intentions?

He stepped back a pace and ran a hand through his hair. A strand fell across his forehead and he took a long, measured breath. “I’m sorry. This thing with Marco isn’t your fault. I have to trust the people I work with. I trust you.”

But not Marco, apparently.

“Do you?” she asked with obvious disbelief. She moved around him to reach for the decanter of wine and, without asking, refilled both their glasses. God knew she needed more. She handed Guy his and swallowed a mouthful herself.

“I do,” he said. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have asked you to come tonight, right?”

“I don’t know, Guy. What kind of games are you playing here?”

“No games.” He raised his hand and touched his palm to her cheek. She almost flinched, forcing herself to remain still while their eyes held. Guy’s touch didn’t have the same warmth, the same sense of safety she’d felt with Sterling that night in his little room. In fact, it had the exact opposite effect—she wanted to be as far away from Guy as she could get. “I’ve missed you.”

She turned away from him and drank another mouthful of wine. This was not the same Guy who’d turned his back on her. What was happening here? “Missed me so much that you never came to see me at the NCRC? Didn’t try to contact me after I got out?”

It was a risk to taunt him, but Guy would expect her to be hurt or angry by his ignoring her. The fact that she truly had never wanted to see him again wouldn’t have entered his mind, even after she’d said as much at her trial. Having him believe she’d wanted him to seek her out was a risk in itself. It would help Sterling, but where the hell would it put her?

Sasha downed the rest of her wine in one swallow.

Antagonizing Guy wasn’t smart, but damn it, she wanted answers now that she had the chance to ask.

“I’d thought it best if we gave each other a little breathing room.” He came up behind her, close enough she felt the heat of him at her back. “But then you came to me.”

“This is business, nothing more.”

If only.

He laid a hand on her shoulder. She shivered when he trailed his fingers down her arm, as if a spider had skittered across her skin. His voice was a rough whisper in her ear. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“You don’t mix the two, remember?” She was grasping at excuses, reasons he should leave her alone. It wasn’t going to work. Once Guy owned something, it was his until he said otherwise.

He stepped in front of her, so close she had no choice but to look up at him. Before she could protest, he lowered his head, his mouth hovering over hers. Their breath mingled. His lips brushed across hers, his teeth nipping and scraping gently at her skin. She let him kiss her but didn’t respond. Either fighting or reciprocating would instigate scenarios she couldn’t see winning.

Guy tilted his head, a crooked smile on his handsome face. “You
are
mad at me.”

Damn right I am.
“Not mad. Disappointed.” Sasha backed up a step, her foot thudding against one of the chairs in front of the desk. “But like I said, this is business now, not personal. We should keep it that way.”

“I can’t do that.” His quiet, matter-of-fact tone sent a chill through her. Her heart rate kicked into a gallop as he once again leaned toward her, his cheek beside hers, his lips near her ear. “I was wrong to let you go to that place. I should have done more to help you. I’m sorry, and I want to make it up to you.”

Sasha moved back again, shoving the chair a good half meter across the floor, and looked into Guy’s eyes. In the depths of the cobalt blue was something she thought she’d never see in the drug dealer: sincerity.

In that instant, she knew the stakes of the game had increased tenfold.

Because Sterling was right. Guy was still in love with her.

* * *

Kylie came right toward him, her arm linked through that of a silver-haired man in an expensive burgundy suit. Her low-cut, pale green dress revealed a generous amount of fair skin. Sterling quashed the urge to run over to her and drape his jacket around her shoulders.

He raised his glass to his lips, keeping his movements normal. Suddenly ducking behind the cherry tree or fleeing for the opposite side of the fountain would draw attention. Now was not the time to make contact. Not in front of a hundred of Guy Christiansen’s friends and employees.

But damn, he was glad to see her.

As he strolled to his right, Kylie and the man approached the bar from his left rear flank. She was alive, walking and talking, laughing, even. He couldn’t help the sigh of relief that shuddered through him, along with the impulse to grab her hand and race out the door.

Confronting Kylie head-on never worked. Fifteen years his junior, she was the youngest of his three sisters, somewhat spoiled and used to getting whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. Sterling blamed himself for that, as well as his mother and stepfather. Unfortunately, what she wanted was amber and to be involved with Christiansen and his ilk.

He needed to separate Kylie from Christiansen’s influence, but how? Sasha was still with him, and Sterling couldn’t leave her behind. Damn it, what was taking her so long?

With the mermaid fountain between them, Sterling made surreptitious glances toward Kylie and the older man while sipping his drink. She was thinner than last time he saw her four months ago, and the color on her cheeks was high. Not from the warmth of the room, he guessed. Son of a bitch. How much amber was coursing through her system?

She smiled and laughed at whatever the man said, tossing her red-blond hair in an all-too-coquettish manner. Identical blondes wearing identical black dresses while they held the arms of two paunchy men approached Kylie and her “date.”

Kylie had been hired as an associate in the PR department of Christiansen’s shipping business, but what was her real position in the drug dealer’s little realm? Pretty fixture for his cronies to strut around with? Something more?

Sterling’s hand convulsed around the glass of vodka. He wasn’t naive regarding Kylie’s sexual history, but Christiansen didn’t give away amber for nothing. There was always a price to pay, even from his favorites. Sasha proved that.

“See something you like?” a man asked from behind him.

Sterling gripped the glass hard enough to slosh the vodka. Good thing Christiansen opted for expensive, thick crystal. He unclenched his other hand and turned around.

Marco Delhomme. The bastard who’d said or done something to Sasha the night before. Slight discoloration to his right cheek and nose were the only signs of Sterling’s blows. He’d probably used topical endswell and hemostatic meds similar to the ones Sterling had rubbed on his knuckles last night and this morning. Delhomme would have required a good bit more medical attention, especially for his busted nose.

What had he told Christiansen about his injuries? Surely he wouldn’t have implicated Sasha in the attack, not when she hadn’t a mark on her. It was unfortunate Delhomme hadn’t frozen to death outside The Morrissey. Maybe next time.

Sterling had reread the investigation files on Christiansen after dropping Sasha off at her flat last night. The name Marco Delhomme appeared several times, always in connection with some of the drug dealer’s suspected violent crimes. Delhomme was a bad man. A very bad man.

Sterling forced a smile. “Just looking. There are a lot of pretty women here.”

Delhomme peered through the cascading water at the group Sterling had been monitoring. A lecherous grin curved his thin lips, and Sterling wanted to gut him with his bare hands. “The redhead’s definitely one of them.” He brought his attention back to Sterling. Delhomme narrowed his eyes, scanning Sterling’s face. Did he recognize him from last night? Delhomme relaxed and turned away, and Sterling knew he hadn’t. “I’d introduce you, but Guy is rather fond of that one, if you know what I mean.”

Sterling nodded, straining to not smash the glass into the other man’s face and rebreak his nose. “I do, and have no intention of treading on Mr. Christiansen’s territory.” He held out his hand. “The name’s Hollings. Nate Hollings.”

“Marco Delhomme. Guy mentioned you and Sasha would be here tonight.” They shook hands, Delhomme squeezing harder than necessary as he scanned the conservatory. “Where is she?”

“Mr. Christiansen is talking to her in his office. He seemed unhappy about something.”

Delhomme drew his hand over his mouth and down his chin, nodding sagely, but the fear in his eyes told a different story. Probably afraid Sasha would tell Christiansen what happened last night. Manhandling the boss’s ex wasn’t the smartest move to make. Sterling hoped Sasha
was
telling Christiansen. Delhomme deserved more than being punched in the face.