Pandora's Box (26 page)

“Not true,” she insisted, hurt by his assumption.
 
Her hands slid down the front of him, enjoying every muscular inch of his wide chest and rock hard abdomen.
 
When she reached the hem of his shirt, her hands pushed beneath it and swept back up over now familiar territory.
 
Springy chest hair flattened beneath her palms.
 
“It’s you I want.
 
You I need.
 
I don’t know why, but you’re the only one who can save me.”

She needed to forget
.

Her fingertips skated over a rough male nipple, and
Tyler
sucked in a sharp breath.
 
He could deny her with his mouth.
 
His body obviously wanted her.
 
Satisfied she wasn’t wasting her time,
Madison
ripped his shirt open.
 
The buttons flew across the room, landing in different parts of the bridal suite.

His laughter brought an actual smile to her lips.
 

“You are truly a dangerous woman,” he said.
 
“I’m glad we’re on the same side.”

Tyler
tried to undo her shirt, but she pushed his hands away.
 
“We’re doing this my way.
 
Call it punishment for holding out on me.”

His eyebrows drew together, suspicious.
 
“What do you have in mind?”

“You’ll see.”

“You like to be in control.”
 
The corners of his mouth twitched, close to a smile.

“I don’t enjoy being out of control.
 
Who does?”
 
She shrugged slender shoulders beneath her warm blouse.
 
Was it getting hot in the room or was it just her?
 
“Everyone wants to be in control.
 
Don’t you?”

He shook his head slowly, his eyes holding hers in a steady gaze.
 
“Sometimes giving up control can be fun.”

Madison
wondered how long he’d squirm beneath her before he tried to take over.
 

She leaned down and kissed him full on the mouth.
 
The tip of her tongue slid between his lips from one side to the other, daring him to hold still.
 
And he did.
 
She rewarded him by deepening the kiss.
 
Her tongue darted inside and swirled clockwise.
 
She invited his tongue to follow her lead, invited it to enter her mouth.

With a hungry groan,
Tyler
turned from follower to instigator.
 
Then he froze and pulled away as if remembering his resolve to give her the lead.
 
She had to give him credit for having amazing control.
 

Madison
stripped the clothes from his lean, muscular body with deliberate slowness.
 
She reveled in every indulgent second.
 
She touched, explored, and tasted every new inch of skin she discovered.
 
Who knew it could be like this?

A couple of times his hands went to her blouse, desperate to remove it, but she pushed them away and continued her exquisite torture of him.
 

Finally they became a tangle of arms and legs, rolling on the bed together as a single entity.
 
Kissing.
 
Touching.
 
She melted into him, no longer caring who took the lead.
 
She simply wanted him.
 
Every dark thought had been banished from her mind.
 
This moment was the only thing currently existing in her world.

The hard jangle of the phone froze them faster than a bucket of ice water.

“I’ll get it,”
Madison
said.
 
She straightened her blouse as she crossed the room, noticed the three buttons that had slipped through the holes and righted them.
 
She grabbed the phone, the last ring vibrating through the veil of peace
Tyler
had helped her to build.
 
“Yes?”

A peel of irritating laughter, worse than the phone’s loud jangle, skittered across her nerves.
 
“You two put on quite the show,” Roxie said.
 
“I will say this about you, Mad, you sure can pick them.”

“What are you talking about?”
 
She stiffened and
Tyler
, as if feeling her change of mood all the way over in the bed, jumped off it and dressed quickly.
 
Enough games!
 
She asked, “Are you watching us?”

Madison
jerked her head toward the open vertical blinds that should have been pulled before the lovemaking session.
 
She’d foolishly thought they were too high up for anyone to see anything, but the talented assassin must have rented a room in the building across from them and was using binoculars to spy on them.
 

“Well,” Roxie said, “let’s just say I loved it when you raked your nails down his back.”

More laughter.

Madison
threw the phone across the room, hitting the far wall.
 
“The assassin’s watching us.”

Her eyes went to the disheveled bed.
 
All she could think about was fixing the sheet and cover over it.
 
The fact that it was a rumpled mess twisted the muscles in her stomach into several knots.
 
What was wrong with her?

*****

Chapter Twelve

A short plane ride later and
Madison
was in
Las Vegas
.
 
Alone.
 
She’d ditched
Tyler
for his own good after remembering the piece of paper DeMarco had given her with Boracci’s address on it.
 
Tyler
would be safer if he stayed away from her.
 
She’d already murdered one man she’d cared about.
 
At the end of her proverbial rope now, she was determined to get answers before it was too late.
 
Although she would and should go to prison for hurting DeMarco, she was going to clear her father’s name first.

While
Tyler
had been arranging a rental car for them, she’d taken a taxi to a sleazy motel.
 
She had registered under an assumed name so he couldn’t find her.
 
Before taking a much needed nap, she’d called the airport and made a reservation.
 
She hadn’t left for
Las Vegas
until the sun had dropped from sight.

Her plan worked perfectly.
 
She hadn’t seen
Tyler
since he’d gone for the rental car.
 
No way would he figure out she’d gone to Vegas.
 
He would probably think she was on her way to turn herself in for killing DeMarco.
 

That was next on her list of things to do.

At the moment she was about to crash a late night party at the mobster’s house.
 
Lucky for her there was only a sliver of moon in the sky.
 
She chose to work the darkest side of the estate.
 
Wearing an eighteenth century gown to blend in at the party made climbing nearly impossible.
 
Unfortunately she couldn’t have worn something more comfortable and put the gown in a bag until she got to the other side.
 
There wasn’t anywhere for her to change.
 
She certainly wasn’t going to strip in the woods.
 
Boracci had too many guards on the prowl.

Madison
’s hands gripped the top of the high cement wall surrounding Rico Boracci’s estate.
 
She kicked at it with the pointy-toed shoe, desperately trying to find a hole.
 
Using the muscles in her arms, she pulled herself higher.
 
The cement scraped the tops of her exposed breasts.
 
She pulled harder.

Her chin rose over the wall and she caught her first glimpse of Boracci’s mansion in the distance.
 
Several trees blocked most of it from view.
  
Every light in the place seemed to be on and she could hear happy, animated voices.
 
Sounded like one hell of a party.
 

Two of her fingernails simultaneously snapped backwards, breaking off clean under the strain of her weight.
 
A startled cry tried to burst passed her lips, but she clamped down on her tongue with her teeth, biting hard until she tasted blood.
 
The self-induced pain in her mouth momentarily outbid the raw pain in her hand.
 

She could have tried the gate, given the guards her name, and requested to see Uncle Rico.
 
It was possible he might have invited her in.
 
He’d been kind to her in the past.
 
Of course she’d been a little girl then, not a government agent with an ax to grind.
 

Madison
kicked at the wall again in an effort to push herself up the rest of the way so she wouldn’t have to use her hands as much.
 
She worried her dress would be ripped by the time she made it to the other side.
 
Hiding her bloody hand from the party guests would be hard enough without having a torn and dirty gown.
 

She swung a leg over the top of the wall, straddling it.
 
Her eyes swept the area, searching for Boracci’s notorious security team.
 
If they caught her now, no story no matter how good would save her.
 
Beyond an immaculate lawn and several beautiful trees, she didn’t see anyone.
 

She dropped down on the private side of the wall.
 
Taking the time to check herself over, she discovered her gown in one piece.
 
A little smudge of dirt on the top of the emerald green fabric between her cleavage probably wouldn’t be noticed by anyone.
 
The costume rental guy had insisted she wear a push-up bra beneath it, forcing her breasts higher than usual and rounding them out beautifully.
 
If any of the male guests looked at that particular area, they wouldn’t be looking at the dirt.

Madison
hurried across the enormous yard to the three-story mansion overflowing with party guests.
 
She grabbed a glass of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray before stepping into the crowd of happy people.
 
Pasting a bright smile on her face, she nodded at a few people as if she knew them.
 
Experience had taught her people were usually too well-mannered or too embarrassed to admit they didn’t remember her.

The terrace doors were wide open, inviting her to enter.
 
She slipped through undetected by security.
 
A few guests passed her by on their way out.
 
She turned away, pretended to be fascinated by a painting of two boys fishing off a pier, and hoped the guests wouldn’t notice her.
 
Their laughter faded in the distance.
 
She left the living area and headed down the hall.

Rico’s office was behind the third door she tried.
 
“Bingo.”

“What are you doing?
 
You can’t go in there!”

“I’m sorry.”
 
She turned sideways, fake smile in place.
 
“I was looking for the bathroom.”

Madison
came face to face with the man from the airplane, the nervous skinny guy who’d used a stun gun on her.
 
His eyes widened, and he pointed a bony finger at her.
 
“You!”

She jerked her arm backwards and slammed her elbow in to his face.
 
He hit the wall behind him and went down hard.
 
Madison
dropped to her knees beside him.
 
She searched the pockets of his jacket until she found the stun gun.
 
Placing it against his mid-section, she said, “Let’s see how you like it.”

His body convulsed until he lost consciousness.
 
It happened too quickly for her to enjoy.
 
After what he’d done, he should have suffered for at least a few minutes.
 
Weakling, she thought.

She laid the stun gun on top of him before slipping her hands beneath his armpits and dragging him into Boracci’s office so no one would stumble across him and foil her plan for a thorough search.
 
Even as dead weight the guy wasn’t very heavy.
 
She dragged him just inside the door, just far enough to allow her to close it.
 
If luck was with her, anyone who entered would trip over the guy, giving her time to jump them.

Boracci’s office captured his personality perfectly.
 
At least from what she’d remembered.
 
It was decorated in rich colors with expensive furnishings and art that reminded her of
France
.
 
She made a beeline for the massive polished desk.
 
He had a computer.
 
Good, he’d kept up with the times.
 
She turned it on, watched the door nervously as it booted up.
 
Getting caught on his computer with an unconscious bodyguard in the room would be hard to explain.