Illicit Liaison (3 page)

“Oh quit your sobbing you fucking moron!” Another of the gorillas snapped at his fallen comrade.

“There better not be one hair on her head out of place,” Darien said in a soft voice that held conviction. “I swear you will regret it if there is.”

Lolita’s heart felt like a stone in her chest. She ignored them and turned to get dressed, dragging a pair of jeans and a tee shirt out of a drawer. She would have liked some underwear but that would have meant bending over, which would have exposed her genitals far more than she would like so she made do without them.

She managed to grab shoes as they were being hustled out the door and when she actually looked down at them it was to see that they were a mismatched set of sneakers, both of them left footed. Darien gave her a smug look but under it he looked just as worried as she was.

Who was he? The goon had said they had his military records. What kind of soldier becomes a master thief?

That thought was pushed away by more pressing matters. She had thought Jamie was finally safe. She had rescued her from Hallie’s (she had never thought of that woman as her mom ever since that terrible night) grip when Jamie had been eighteen. Hallie had been determined to hold on, to keep getting the disability checks that allowed her to stay unemployed and drink all day long but Lolita had simply walked in and taken Jamie away one afternoon while Hallie slept off a binge.

Hallie had never reported her missing; she needed the money after all so for the past five years Jamie had lived in a sunny villa in Italy. The family she lived with loved her like a daughter, they had lost their own in a car wreck decades earlier.

They had known from the start that Jamie would never be independent and they also knew that someday Lolita would come for her. They were okay with both of those things. Lolita had retrieved a stolen family heirloom for them at her own expense and they had never forgotten it.

How had anyone gotten Jamie from them? Fear gripped her even more tightly, were they dead? Was Jamie?

There was a long and incredibly expensive limousine waiting outside and they were ordered into it. They did not have to be told, they were both painfully aware that they had no choice. Darien stepped down hard on the biggest man’s toes, giving him a long slow grin as he did so. He needed to know if the man would hit him, if he dared. When he did not Darien felt his heart sink. Whoever wanted them was powerful enough that these three feared his wrath.

The ride seemed interminable. There was no attempt made to disguise where they were being taken. Lolita nor Darien could decide if that were a good omen or a bad one. Eventually Darien simply relaxed, whatever would happen, would. The gun was still in his waistband and he knew he had a fighting chance to get out of this mess alive. Lolita looked worried, her face still sharply graven with lines and he leaned closer to her.

“”Breathe dammit. They are like dogs, if they smell fear you are finished.”

She shot him a filthy glance but her face immediately smoothed out, went placid and unreadable. Admiration filled him, she was tough and he desired her more than ever because of it.

They swept into a driveway and waited for a camera to see their faces. The tall wrought iron gates slid apart and the car drove past impeccably manicured lawns complete with gardens and tall trees whose limbs and leaves gave off a welcome shade before stopping in front of an imposing Spanish-style mansion, its red tiled roof gleaming in the strong sunlight.

They were taken out of the car and into the house. The foyer was huge, fountains danced and splashed merrily and priceless works of art adorned the walls. They were shoved down the hallway and into a large and airy room that overlooked the rose bushes.

Lolita turned to strike the goon whose hands were a bit too rough on her body but stopped short as Antony Valente strode in, his salt and pepper hair brushed back from his hawk-like face and his body clad in his usual impeccable black suit.

“You will have to pardon my unusual way of contacting you,” he said without preamble. “I need something stolen and you two are the only two that can manage it.”

“Where the hell is my sister?” Lolita demanded, uncaring that she was addressing one of the world’s most dangerous men, a Mafioso with incredible power.

Sister? Understanding filled Darien, no wonder she had been so upset but still she was baiting a bear. To his relief Antony did not seem to take it personally.

“She’s fine, or at least she will be if you two succeed in getting me what I want.”

“Why the fuck should I work with him?” Lolita asked. “I don’t need him.”

“Oh yes you do.” Antony said. “He’s about to become your husband.”

Illicit Liaison Book 2: Broken Contract

“Just what the hell is it you expect us to steal?” Darien finally asked.

Lolita gave him a grateful glance, at that moment she had been wondering if she could force the truth out of Antony and then run for it, just scoop up Jamie and head for the hills. It would have cost her life to try that stunt and she knew she would be no good to Jamie if she were dead. Her blood ran cold thinking of Jamie left alone with Antony’s people for the rest of her life—however long, or short, that might have been. Darien’s voice had brought her back to reality and the question he had asked made her remember there was a way she could get her sister back.

Antony plucked a paper from a folder and held it out. Lolita stared at it, incredulous. The photograph showed a gorgeous woman with long black hair and dark eyes that had a slight tilt at the corners, high cheekbones, and sensual mouth painted a glossy scarlet.

“That’s a person,” Darien pointed out. “If you wanted a kidnapping done you could have just used your own goons.”

“I don’t want the woman,” the anger in Antony’s voice was apparent though his face remained smooth and calm. “Look at the ring she’s wearing.”

The ring was magnificent, a giant ruby set among diamonds and placed on a wide band of platinum, it was worth a fortune and Lolita knew it. She would have stolen it anyway if she had seen it first.

“Why do you want it?”

Antony glared at her. “That is not your business.”

“You kidnapped my sister and orchestrated the two of us being taken at the same time so we could steal it for you, I think we deserve to know why.”

“It was my mother’s, God rest her soul.”

Lolita was not entirely sure that was the truth but she also doubted that Antony even knew how to be honest so she decided to let it go. “Where is it?”

“In Italy. You two are going on a little honeymoon.”

“Excuse me?” Lolita heard the incredulity in her voice. Darien barked laughter and she shot him a baleful glare. “We don’t even like each other; you cannot expect us to work together. I will do it, just tell me the details.”

“It’s tucked inside a very secluded and exclusive bed and breakfast that caters to honeymooning newlyweds, you have to go together and it will take both of you. I want that damned ring back.”

Someone always wanted something that was not theirs to have. She had wound up in prison over that kind of wanting and she was not sure she would not end up there yet again.

But not before I get Jamie somewhere safe.

“I guess we’re a couple,” she said snidely.

“I guess so,” Darien responded.

She hated his guts. He stood there looking entirely bored and unconcerned. Not one hair was out of place and he had the nerve to look right at Antony and ask, “Do we at least get breakfast before setting off on this delightful little journey? A man needs food for strength you know, especially when he has an eager new wife.”

He pinched her ass. Pinched it! Lolita twisted around and her foot lashed out, aiming at his shin but before she connected, he swept her up and tossed her over his shoulder as easily as if she weighed nothing.

Her fists beat at his back and he smacked her ass cheeks in retaliation. The anger abruptly turned to lust. The transition was so sudden and unexpected that she simply went limp.

“Yes, there will be breakfast.” Antony looked amused as Darien stood her back up onto her feet. “I think you had better eat well. She looks like she is a  fighter.”

“Men,” Lolita muttered.

**

Darien’s eyes were closed; his face and body relaxed. He was not sleeping though it looked like he was, but he was resting. The flight from LA to New York had been long and the second leg of the trip, from JFK airport to Heathrow, where they would catch a flight to Portofino, was no less exhaustingly long.

His mind was busy sorting through questions. How had Antony been able to find the one thing that was most precious to both of them? He knew their real identities and that knowledge was a powerful thing to possess. Who could have told him who they really were? And why?

Lolita slept beside him, her auburn locks cut at a smart little angle right above her jawbone. The look suited her and the color favored her pale complexion but Darien wanted to remove her wig and touch her natural hair, feel those silken strands in his fist.

He could feel her chest rising and falling and the warmth of her body. The first-class seats were large and far more comfortable than coach was but she had slumped over at some point and her breast rubbed against his arm.

He did not have to open his eyes to see the luscious curves of her body inside her perfectly tailored linen dress. The cut of the creamy fabric was simple and almost loose yet it managed to outline her body in a way that had turned heads throughout the airport.

Hiding in plain sight, it was something that they were both used to but he was also far too aware that they would be scrutinized from the moment they entered the villa. Antony had not told them until after breakfast that the villa belonged to a rival, a mobster named Carlos Giovanni and the woman who wore the ring on her finger was his mistress.

The guests enjoyed the exclusive and expansive villa, never guessing that the incredible security system had not been put in place to protect the rock stars and actors who showed up there but to protect the man who sometimes sneaked into a back door to tumble into bed with Carmen DeLauro, the owner of the place.

Among the amenities were two yachts the guests were allowed to use for day trips, gorgeous gardens, sumptuous meals and a wine cellar that was the envy of collectors across the globe. Darien knew he could likely make a second payday heisting a few very rare vintages and, in all honesty, he had already begun to plan that out. He had never been one to pass up a golden opportunity.

All those thoughts had distracted him from the real question, who had sold him out to Antony? Whoever it was they had to have intimate knowledge of the both of them. His mind, always agile, sifted through possibilities, rapidly discarding those that seemed unlikely.

He soon realized that that was not going to work. He had no idea which of his contacts knew her as well. It was a business where discretion was king. He only knew one person who knew his entire history and that person was still in prison, and always would be.

Jimmy Wyatt had been a lousy soldier and he was always the first to admit it. He had gone into the military because he was a lonely nerdy guy and he had been hoping the uniform would attract girls. Instead, he had discovered that what the women he liked really wanted was not just a uniform but cold hard cash. Jimmy was a computer genius and it had not taken him long to figure out how to manipulate the system so that he was selling secrets to other countries, equipment to guerillas and so on. Darien had met him the prison they had both been serving time in and Jimmy had been his first teacher in that hard school.

Not that Jimmy was hurting for either despite his situation. He was ensconced in veritable splendor in his cell and he had the cash to bribe the guards so every few weeks a bevy of women from a strip club would show up and there would be a party in the sick bay. Jimmy was always the only patient there on those nights. He had everything he needed in that prison and he was happy there.

Darien knew he was going to have to come right out and ask Lolita about whom she knew. He was going to have to work with her to figure this mess out because someone out there had not been shy about selling them out and they had to know who had done it.

Lolita stirred beside him. Her perfume filled his nose—she wore a light fresh scent that mingled well with the scent of her hair and clothes. He hated heavy musky perfumes and floral scents. Her breast rubbed against his body again then her eyes popped open and she sat straight up.

There were lavender shadows below her eyes that only accented their color. She directed a level gaze at him and asked, “Are you wondering who told Antony who we are?”

He should have known she would have thought of it already, “Of course.”

Neither of them had to point out that was a conversation that they needed to have or that it would require a great deal more privacy than they were in command of right then.

She smiled and turned toward the window of the plane. Banks of puffy white clouds lay below them: a sea of heavy white stuff that obscured any view of the ground. Darien hated that swaddled and cloaked look; it frightened him for some reason. It made him feel lonely and trapped.