Illicit Liaison (2 page)

Darien Knight. His face came up, a series of blurry shots that had been enhanced often. He was a man of great disguises, his jaw often looked fuller or his mouth longer and thinner, his hair every color. He used lifts in his shoes or bent his knees when he walked to decrease his height, all the same tricks she used.

No camera could really capture him and she knew he had not been expecting any trouble that night, the actress was safely ensconced in her large house in France for the summer and her staff had been given the weekend off due to the holiday.

To have seen his face was astounding but she knew if he had not wanted her to she would not have.

She clicked through his list of crimes—known and suspected—and grinned when she saw holes in the files that only a discerning eye would have noticed. He had the same technology she had, it seemed. It was easy to remove things when the trail was hitting a little too close to home, or to shuffle file numbers or locations. She sometimes did it just for amusement though she knew she should not.

“Let’s give the bastard a taste of his own medicine,” Lolita grinned as her fingers clicked across the keyboard.

**

Darien woke up instantly, his reflexes and instincts kicking in before his eyes were even opened all the way. He rolled off his bed, landing on his feet just as the door shook under the first heavy blows.

“Police!” A yell from the hallway raised his eyebrow but not his blood pressure. “Open the door, Howard Denton!”

The hotel room was expensive and luxurious. The bed sat far from the door and a few feet away from a long set of doors that led to the balcony. He looked out, there were no cops on the ground as of yet.

“What do you want?” He called in a pleasant voice as he snatched the plastic sheets he had placed over the bed the night before up and rolled them into a ball. There was an empty suitcase next to the wall, the sheets went into it, and the necklace went in his boots, which were still on his feet. He had known Lolita would pull something; he just had not been sure what it would be.

“Open the door!”

They would not want to kick it in; the hotel was too highbrow for that. He had given a name different from the one they were using but he knew the man they were looking for thanks to the recent news stories. Howard Denton was a suicidal actor who had a major drug problem and he had escaped from a facility the day before.

Lolita had a sense of humor; that was obvious. He went through the connecting door into the suite next door and bolted the lock. Then he changed clothes hurriedly, while listening intently to what was going on in the hallway. The manager was summoned and the door opened, just as the cops rushed into the room a dark-haired man in a business suit came out of the suite next door and stared about in bafflement.

“Just what kind of establishment are you running here?” He asked the manager in a perfectly correct British accent.

“I am sorry Sir, you know these Hollywood types.”

Darien gave a long sniff, shook his head, and wandered down the hallway. Behind him a cop yelled out that Howard must have gone out the window and to get someone on the ground.

He made it to the car without incident and he drove away at a decorous speed. The necklace was in a hidden compartment in the loafers that he now wore and the suitcase with the sheets and the clothing he had worn the night before was stashed in a small compartment below the spare tire in the trunk.

Darien never stayed anywhere too long and he did not plan to stay in LA either. The necklace and Lolita had made it hot for him there, all the signs were out, and saying it was time to go. He had learned early on to always be ready to run, he had been raised by a mother who specialized in slip and fall scams and a series of stepfathers and uncles who all had schemes of their own whether it was drugs, cons, gambling or bank robbery. That kind of life had led him to a juvenile court where a judge had pointed out that he was nearly eighteen and had given him a choice between enlisting in the military or going to jail to serve time as an adult.

Darien had chosen the military.

For four years, it had seemed perfect. He rose to the top of every class easily, he was agile and intelligent, he knew how to read people like a book, and he was capable of running on empty long after many other of the men training with him quit or fell out of the race.

Then came the discovery that someone in his company was moving drugs through the supply unit as well as shuffling paperwork in order to steal supplies like computers and other expensive gear.

Suspicion had fallen on Darien simply because his past was a known thing. He had always known at some point it would come back to haunt him but he had been innocent and had protested his innocence in court, not that it had done him any good. He landed in a military prison for two years and while he had been acquitted and freed, he had lost two years of his life.

During his incarceration, he met a young man who was a computer whiz and he showed him all sorts of things that could be done. Others had shrugged off their confinement, pointing out that they had earned ten times their yearly salary until they had gotten caught and still had that money somewhere, and it would be there when they got out. Early retirement, one man had called it. When Darien left the prison he was already aware that he would never again be a military man despite the offer to rejoin at his former rank. He was done with doing the right thing.

At thirty-five years he had few regrets. He enjoyed a lavish lifestyle and his need for adrenaline was often fed by his daring heists. He still went sky diving and he ran nearly every day, there was very little he was actually afraid of other than commitment—that was the kiss of death to anyone in his profession—and his dreams of retiring a wealthy man without any cares seemed to be looming closer on the horizon with each passing day.

So why was he driving down Santa Monica Boulevard rather than heading toward the nearest fence to dump the damn necklace so he could get his ass to an airport and out of town? Lolita, that was why.

He had seen her three years before at a party in Madrid, dripping diamonds and wearing a stunning scarlet dress that had clung to her amazing body like a glove. He had stared at her narrow waist, her lush hips, full breasts and the plumped out cheeks of her ass with an appreciative eye. The wig she had worn that night had been auburn and when he had said hello her voice had been a husky contralto, the same one that had come out of her mouth last night while she had been caught up in the throes of passion.

She had waltzed right out of the house they had been in with bearer bonds worth two million dollars hidden inside her purse. He had been there for the same bonds and he had stood idle, watching as she took them.

She had walked through the party as casually as if she were an invited guest, perfect and fluent Spanish falling from her red-slicked lips, and she had just as casually dropped a rufie into the drink of a handsome young man that she then pulled into the library with her.

The guests who did notice the two of them stumbling into the room laughed it off, until the host realized the young man was knocked out cold and his safe had been emptied. Darien had left too quickly to see the furor but he had been impressed with Lolita’s style ever since.

They knew of each other in the way all great criminals knew of each other but they had never met until last night. He drove further up the boulevard, determined to meet her yet again.

**

Lolita was a soft sleeper by necessity and when she heard a noise that should not have been there she was awake instantly but not soon enough. Darien stood above her bed with one of his hands tangled into her hair, holding her captive.

For his part, Darien was just enjoying the silky tresses in his hands. They were a light brownish-blonde color and her eyes, without makeup or contact lenses, were a clear hazel. A flush of sleep still tinged her porcelain skin and he bore down harder with his hand, tugging at her scalp.

Lolita could not believe she was being turned on. The bastard had somehow gotten through her security system and now he was practically holding her hostage in her own bed! But still, the feel of his strong fingers in her hair and his nails lightly raking against her scalp was turning her on.

Her nipples hardened and she saw his eyes dart down to the think silk sheet that covered the lower half of her breasts. A knowing smile crossed his face and she rolled suddenly, ignoring the pain in her scalp as she did.

Darien let go as she rolled, his eyes gleaming as her full backside came swinging into view for a brief second. She came up on the other side of the bed, a very serious looking pistol in her hand and a look that said she was serious on her face.

“You do know they found old Howard wandering around a toy store in his footed pajamas singing old show tunes I take it?”

Her eyebrows quirked up. “I heard.”

“That was very nasty.”

“So was stealing my work.”

“Your
work? I’m sorry, did you write your name on that necklace?”

“Is this fifth grade?” Lolita snarled. “I was hired to do the job.”

“So was I.”

She blinked at him. “That is not possible. Who the hell would hire two people to steal one necklace from a house with such a shitty security system?”

“Someone who wanted it very badly I suppose. I’m sure you know the wife.”

Lolita ground her teeth together in frustration, “She could have told me she had hired you.”

“Likewise. Since when did you start taking on hire work?”

“About the same time you did. It’s easy, it’s quick and relatively risk-free.”

“Well, we have the same reasons...” he broke off. Both of them glared at each other then back at the open door to her bedroom. Darien made a signal Lolita could not help but understand. They both looked at the mirror hanging across the room to get a view of what was coming at them.

A squeak had given the men in the hall away. One of them was wearing a new pair of shoes, and they squeaked yet again, which was a dumbassed move if Lolita had ever heard one, but what they lacked in brains they made up for in brawn and firepower.

“Shit,” she whispered as the two of them backed toward her bathroom. “Who the hell is that?”

“Beats me. We are going to be trapped if we hole up in there,” he indicated the bathroom with a jerk of his chin.

She smiled and sprang inside. He followed simply because he had no choice, if the men out there wanted her he would protect her as best as he could but he would be damned if he would simply stand around and let them mow him down.

She closed the door silently. The muzzle of her gun pointed at him then away as Lolita decided she needed an ally more than she needed another enemy at the moment. She could read his face and he was honestly as confused by the turn of events as she was.

Inside the linen closet, there was a hidden door. It slid open to reveal a panic room. They went inside it quickly and the door had barely shut behind them before the bathroom door crashed in. On the silent cameras, they watched the three gorillas spill into the room.

“They will never find us,” Lolita said softly.

She believed that too. The room had been specially constructed for her; it was seven feet high by fifteen feet wide with steel doors and a security system that rivaled the ones used by rock stars and politicians. She set her gun down and grabbed a bottle of water from a bundle, opened it with a flourish and drank most of it down in one gulp. Then she looked down at herself, completely naked. Darien sat inches from her and he tried to avoid staring by focusing on the screens. She felt a surge of energy inside; her nakedness and his proximity making her feel flustered.

“Uh -oh.”

Uh- oh? Just what the hell did he mean by uh-oh? She turned back to the cameras and her jaw sagged open. The three intruders had come directly to the door and were expertly tapping out the code that would open the door into a portable ke
yboard.

“I hope you have another plan.” Darien said in a conversational voice.

“I was thinking I would shoot you and toss your body at them,” she rejoined.

Darien pulled out his own gun, aimed, and got ready to fire but before he could one of the men looked directly into the camera and said, “We have Jamie.” The words meant nothing to him but the next ones did. “Darien, we have your military records. We know exactly who you are.”

They stared at one another. The men knew they were in there together; how to get in and they had something on both of them. It was suddenly very clear that they had both been had. The necklace had been a ruse to get the two of them together. The only question was by who and why.

Darien did not have to ask if Jamie was important to Lolita, her face had turned a curdled shade of gray, and white rings caused by shock circled her eyes. He took her gun and stuffed it into his belt then put his own in the waistband of his pants, hoping they would find the one and forego any further searching.

The door opened and they were ordered to get out. They obeyed. Darien felt a flash of anger when the men’s eyes lingered on Lolita’s nude body but he forgot that when she turned and punched the one with the squeaking shoes in the nose, neatly breaking it. Blood gushed and he screamed like a girl before shooting his big hands up over his face. If it had not been so deadly serious it would have been comic.