Someone To Steal (8 page)

“Cain?” Her bravado was only slightly cracked when she spoke into the phone.

“Hey, kid. How’s the accommodations?”

“Not four star,” she said. “I’m okay. You’re taking good care of my good luck charm, aren’t you? Haven’t dropped it in the river?” she inquired, trying to indicate to him that she knew there was a waterway nearby where she was being kept. She couldn’t risk calling it the Danube, though she had heard enough from her captors to realize she was in Austria.

“No. It’s right here with me, up in the air,” he replied.

“You owe me flowers.” She blurted, her voice catching.

“I have more work to do for the boss,” he told her. “He’s not ready to let you go, so hang in there.”

“You’re cooperating?”

“Of course I am.” The connection was cut off, but he was satisfied that she was holding her own. The data from the app confirmed her location was Vienna. The call hadn’t been long enough to pinpoint an exact origin for the call, or even a region of the city, but it was the lead he needed.
              Cain resumed calling his contacts: friends who were independent agents, a former KGB officer, a few buddies in the military. Within an hour, he had secured the cooperation of a demolitions expert, an IT manager, and the hacker who happened to be both the head of security at the bank in the Ukraine where Riley had been caught, as well as the stepdaughter of the Ukrainian himself.

Sasha had plenty of reasons to hate her stepfather, and the ability to be a valuable ally, even as she lay in wait for the time for a takeover to be ripe. A diversion was guaranteed, one that would make his rescue easier to pull off. Satisfied with his plan, he made himself sleep for a few hours to keep his mind sharp. He checked into a hotel, ate an omelet and had a shower. Every minute, he got e-mail updates on the plan in motion.

It came together quickly. He sipped caffeine to stay awake and sharp, even as he planned and coordinated his forces. Adrenaline burned through his veins, making the time rush by. By ten in the morning local time, he was in position, ready for a grease fire to rage out of control in the building next door to the safe house.

Cain packed his emergency kit in the pockets of his flak jacket and loaded a fresh clip in his semi-automatic. He had never discharged a weapon in anger before this day, but he was ready. Riley wouldn’t be another Caryn.

He got the text that the fire had started. He waited to the count of two hundred for the alarm to be raised. Puzzled by the persistent silence, he was rocked backward, taken down to the ground with the impact of the blast. The building with the grease fire detonated and crumpled like a sack of flour breaking open on the floor. People poured from the surrounding businesses into the street to investigate. Staggering to his feet, he charged into the safe house and whipped out his Taser.

It was a blur of motion, primal force. He charged through the building like he owned it, his burning need to get to Riley overcoming all other feelings. He stun-gunned nine men before he reached the room. Riley had awakened from her latest dose of Valium and was making silly faces at Shorty Bear, laughing riotously during the aftereffects of the drug. The guard rose to his feet at Cain’s intrusion, but he went down without much of a fight. Cain hauled her to her feet and slit the zip ties off her arms. She rubbed her wrists and scowled at him.

“What took you so long?”

“Traffic,” he said. “Let’s go.”

“No way. I have some thugs to punish. I’m putting the hurt on that snotty little creep who hit me, and the one who felt me up. They’re both here today, although the one I bit keeps his distance now.”

“Move. We have to go. I tased them, I didn’t tie them up. We don’t have time for the wrath of Riley right now.”

“There’s always time for wrath.”

“No, that’s there’s always room for Jell-o. You’re confused.”

“It’s the Valium, Cain. They keep shooting me up with that crap to keep me quiet.”

“Does it work?” He deadpanned.

She stuck her tongue out at him. The fear and murkiness in her eyes disappeared for a moment as she giggled. “Fine, let’s go. But you are officially no fun. I can’t even shoot them…a simple flesh wound that hurts like hell? I know you have extra bullets. You’re a complete fucking Boy Scout that way,” she groused as he led her out of the room.

They stepped over Mama Bear, and Riley bent down and took his watch. The one she had bitten was next. She stomped on his hand, grinding her foot into it vengefully before taking the watch off his opposite wrist.

“Did you have to blow up the fucking world to get me out?”

“It was supposed to be a containable grease fire to set off the alarm, but one of my associates evidently got overzealous. So we made an impression.”

The rest was chaos, and the building had mostly cleared out. A few elbows to faces were enough to see them out—the Ukranian’s men were loyal, but not loyal enough to burn to death, it seemed.

By the time he had her out on the street, in the chaos of emergency services and bystanders filming with their phones, she had eight souvenir watches. He propelled her forward, leading and pushing her. Her breathing was ragged, and her grip on his hand so tight it threatened his circulation and future use of his fingers. They ran, keeping pace through the thick falling ashes and out of the noise into quieter streets.

Back at his hotel, he set her down on the bed, wrapped the comforter around her shoulders in an awkward attempt to treat her like a trauma victim. He started to speak, but stopped himself twice. Cain took both her hands in his and kissed them.

“Forgive me,” he said, holding her disbelieving gaze steadily.

“For what?”

“I got you into this. I let them take you.”

“I climbed into this mess myself. I suspect you weren’t in charge of the thugs who grabbed me in the vault. Stop blaming yourself.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“Let me guess. You were all ‘dark night of the soul’ and thinking how this was just like Caryn and you couldn’t protect either of us, am I right?”

“I suppose you could put it that way.”

“Quit auditioning for Macbeth, then. I’m not that fragile. I gave you major points for believing in my ability to take care of myself in London when I went for a run. You’re losing points now for being a sexist. It’s not your job to protect me or keep me out of trouble, and even if it were, I could give you a run for your money. You were brooding around, thinking up worst-case scenarios, while I was tormenting my Three Little Thugs with a constant stream of requests. You have to keep your sense of humor or you’ll go crazy, Cain.”

“I don’t like you letting me off easy, Riley. You may make light of it, but I know it was an ordeal. Don’t act like it was nothing.” He still held her hands.

Her wide, dilated eyes cased out the room, and she smiled. Her grin was far too wide, a little crazy. “I’m fine. I swear. I want a shower and a stiff drink and maybe some undrugged chocolate.”

“It’s Vienna, not Belgium. The chocolate isn’t superlative.”

“I’ll learn to cope with inferior confectionary. I handled being held hostage and even got them to find me a decent Diet Coke in this godforsaken city…”

“You made your captors get you Diet Coke? Don’t you know not to antagonize the men with the guns?” He shook his head in disbelief.

“Haven’t you ever read a magazine? Those cooperative women who climb in a car trunk at gunpoint, thinking if they’re passive and don’t make a fuss their kidnappers won’t get mad—yeah, they always get killed. You’re better off running away in a zigzag pattern.”

“What in the hell does that have to do with being a demanding pain-in-the-ass captive?”
              “I don’t know. I thought maybe if I was annoying, they might let me go.”

“Or shoot you in the head. God, Riley, you could’ve got yourself killed,” he said, raking a hand through his hair. “They drugged you to shut you up. Do you think they did anything to you while you were out?”

“No. I always woke up in the chair, arms still zip-tied. I don’t think they would’ve risked waking me, truthfully. They didn’t like me very much, and the feeling was mutual. I thought Shorty was okay until he came at me with that syringe.” She shuddered. “I want a shower.”

“Come here first.”

Cain sat on the bed opposite hers and held out his arms for her. She shrugged off the comforter and went into his embrace, letting him engulf her in strong arms and the steady thump of his heart. Instead of sitting beside him, she’d straddled his lap, wrapping her arms and legs around him, like a hunted animal.

He stroked her hair and took deep breaths slowly until her breathing synced up with his. She clutched at his shoulders, stricken by a sudden disbelief that she was safe, that she was back where she belonged. Riley felt that he was trying to pull her into his chest, to keep her safe and reassure himself she was whole and returned to him. The stillness settled in around them. She eased her grip on his shoulders. He seemed reluctant to let her go so she held on a little longer.

“I’m going to take the longest shower in history now,” Riley announced, climbing off of him.

“Okay, shower, then plane,” Cain agreed.

“No, shower, then drink, then plane. Where are we going now?”

“Well, someplace where the hit that’s out on both of us isn’t as persuasive. Far East, I think,” he supplied.

The hot shower was restorative, and so was the brandy. Feeling replenished by both, she boarded his jet and fell promptly into a deep sleep. She woke up in Mumbai. He jostled her until she followed him to a train station and ate some coconut rice. With his arm around her and her head cushioned on his broad shoulder, Riley slept again.

It was night when he roused her to get off the train. A guy with an old truck was waiting for them and drove them a few hours outside the town. They were evidently staying at his house, a modest affair with a tin roof and some goats outside in a pen. Riley trailed after Cain, eyes wide, as they settled onto sleeping bags in a dark room with cinderblock walls.

“Who is this guy?”

“This is Emir. We did a hitch in the Israeli army together a long time ago. We can hide out here for a while. Until the furor dies down, at least.”

“Why’d you take my phone?”

“Traceable.  I can’t risk you giving away our whereabouts while you’re checking on Tico. Besides, I got you a new phone.”

“I had pictures on that phone.”

“I saved your SIM card; relax. And I threw away my phone, too. Now I’m going to get some sleep.”

“I’ve been sleeping all day. I’m bored.”

“Don’t steal anything.”

“What am I supposed to do here?”

“Be grateful you’re alive and you’re not a mob captive any longer,” he said, stretching out on a musty sleeping bag.

“I am grateful. I’m glad you came and got me. I just—”

“Don’t know what to do with yourself when you’re out of the action? I understand. I still need to get some sleep. You can wake me in three hours if you don’t nod off.”

“Can I, um, lay beside you?”

“Yes. Come here,” he said, holding out an arm and pulling her against his side. She sighed contentedly and tucked hands that were still shaking under her arms.

“I was afraid I wouldn’t see you again.”

“Of course I was coming for you. I’ve been told I owe you flowers. I’ll have to do something about that. Didn’t you trust me?”
              “I have vivid memories of your assurance that the Ukrainian wouldn’t bother with me because I couldn’t be used to control you.”

“Clearly, I was mistaken. I had a great deal of time to think on the journey while you were snoring on my sleeve. My plan is, once it’s safe for us to fly transatlantic again, I want to go to Belize.”
              “Isn’t the phrase, ‘stop me if you’ve heard this one’? Because you’ve only said that sixteen thousand times since I’ve known you.”

“You didn’t let me finish as usual. I want to go to Belize and retire on the spoils of my career. But the fantasy isn’t just me, alone on a quiet stretch of beach with a drink in my hand…now I want you there, talking nonstop about designer purses and diabetes research and Diet Coke while you’re putting sunscreen on your cat. I want you to come with me.”

“I don’t want to retire to Belize. I want to keep my promise.”

“Which is?”

“Buying your freedom back. Plus, also now kicking the ass of every mob thug who guarded me in that stupid room in Vienna. It’s revenge time, Cain.”

He stiffened and spoke quietly. “Revenge isn’t worth it. I’ve done vengeance, and it’s more trouble than it’s worth. You don’t feel better in the end. It isn’t satisfying. It’s a hollow victory, and it eats you up inside.”

“I’m willing to risk it. Did I mention that there was a guy who jammed his hand up my shirt while I was puking from the concussion?”

“Believe me, I’d like to rip his hand off, too,” he said dryly.

“Why should I restrain myself? You don’t show any sign of being attracted to me anyway,” she said with a shade of a whine around the edges.

“I’m giving you time to heal from the trauma of kidnapping.”

“Heal? Trauma? I sat in a room and drank Diet Coke. While I think drugging me was a total dick move, they at least made the time pass with less panic. I stomped on some guy’s hand, and we sold all those watches. I think I’m good now.”

He chuckled, but didn’t answered, and she wondered how to wake him up. Her blood raced again, but she measured her breaths. At least she’d convinced him to worry about her less. While she pondered, she heard his snore, a low faraway sound that he made which was both irritating and impossibly dear.

While he slept, Riley imagined Belize with Cain. Long months of perfect weather and no worries; just sand and margaritas to a soundtrack of birdsong. It sounded dreadfully boring. Still, she didn’t want to imagine a life without Cain, and if he was bound for Belize—since he muttered about the place like it was the Holy Grail for him—she could consider it.

She sat up and turned on her phone, texted Carol to say she had a new number and to send a picture of Tico. Soon she had a new snap of her angry-looking cat, obviously charging toward the phone. Probably because he was pursuing a barbecue chip. Riley smiled and shook her head. She missed the demanding furball. She nodded off holding her phone, and when she woke, Cain was sitting up, tapping away at his replacement tablet.

“Are you playing an app?” she accused. He flipped the screen around to show her that he was, in fact, emailing someone in Spanish. “Okay, looking at properties to fulfill your Belize obsession?”

“I take it you’re dismissing my suggestion out of hand.” His smile was wry.

“It’ll have to take a backseat to the total destruction and ruination of the Ukrainian and all he holds dear.”

“Ambitious, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t specify an entire nation. Just one megalomaniac with an army of thugs and a suitcase full of syringes. That shit ain’t right, Cain. Right now though, I’m hungry.”

“We’re hiding out, so you’ll have to eat whatever they’ve got.”

“Goat?”

“No, more like curry.”

“I hate curry. It tastes disgusting.”

“This is India. There’s going to be curry. Brace yourself.”

“Blech.”

Out in the main room, the guy who’d picked them up in the truck was serving places of curry to three other men. Instead of hanging back and waiting for an introduction, Riley came forward and took the empty plate from his hand.

“I can’t thank you enough,” she said. “Here. Let me serve you. Have a seat.”

The man looked at her, said something in another language to Cain, who answered him. The man laughed and took a seat.

“That was sweet of you. Incredibly rude in this country since he is our host, but sweet. I think he’s forgiven you, though. Serve away.”

Riley suppressed a groan at her gaffe, but scooped curry onto Emir’s plate and smiled at him gratefully before dishing up Cain’s and her own. She ate every bite, grateful she wasn’t still zip-tied to a chair and had both hands free now. When they were through, she gathered the plates and dragged Cain to the sink with her.

“This guy is helping us. Be nice and do dishes, even if you are a legend,” she admonished.

Cain rolled up his sleeves and started scrubbing. As she wiped the dishes with a dry cloth and stacked them on the counter, Riley admired his strong tanned forearms. His gaze slid toward her, and she felt a sizzle of the attraction that had first stirred when she saw him on the treadmill in Costa Rica. Remembering the long scar down his right side, she fumbled a plate. Cain caught it with his scary-fast reflexes and put it back in her hands, his eyes steady on hers.

“Go for a walk?”

“A walk, old man? Let’s go for a run,” she said, hurrying into their room and digging the new running gear out of her backpack.

When he’d stocked up on supplies for them, he’d made sure she had workout wear but that it wasn’t lime green. In fact, it was gray, with a deep red stripe up the legs and a matching tank and hoodie. The running shoes he’d chosen were top of the line, and felt incredibly light when she laced them up. She had to admit she loved what he’d picked out.

“Like it?” he inquired when she came out ready to go.

“Yeah. It’s pretty perfect.”

“No,” he said, pulling her purple scarf out of his jacket pocket and draping it across her shoulders. “Now it’s perfect.”

“I’m not running in a scarf. That’s stupid.”

“It was supposed to be a lovely gesture. I’m giving you your symbolic independence. My masculine authority requires the occasional grand gesture. I thought it was absolutely Shakespearean.”

“Listen, Macbeth, I know your vanity runs to Shakespeare, but I’m still not running in a scarf. It could get caught on something or make me sweatier.” She stuffed the scarf back in his pocket. “You can keep my independence ‘til we get back.”

Riley took off down the dirt road, the hardness of the road jarring her legs as the soles of her feet pounded ahead. It felt good to stretch her stiff body, to return to the blankness of running. Soon he overtook her, despite her head start, and they kept pace together, side by side. She felt some knot inside of her loosen and relax and she was more herself. When she stopped, she sat on the ground, her legs out in front of her as she reached forward to touch her toes, leaned back into a bridge, kicked up to a handstand and back over again. She felt like showing off, like jumping for joy that she was alive and free to go outside and run. She knew this appreciation, this awareness, would wear off too soon and she’d be complacent again, failing to see the privileges she took for granted once she felt safe. Riley took a long pull from her water bottle and wiped her face on her sleeve.

“That felt good.”

Cain was upon her then, his hands on her face, his mouth covering hers with a deep, breathless kiss. She opened her lips for him, took his tongue in her mouth eagerly as her heartbeat sped with desire. Her hands closed over his biceps and gripped hard, never wanting to let go, never wanting to break the kiss. She was panting for air, the salt taste of his sweat in her mouth, and wouldn’t pull away. It was a fierce, claiming kiss.

Every inch of Riley’s skin felt alive and heated, tingling from his touch and the rush of excitement. She always felt euphoric after a good run. This took ecstasy to a new level. His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth. He stroked her face, and she moaned.

“Please, Cain,” she said, her eyes dark with need as she drew back the barest inch from his mouth.

“I know. Not here, though.”

“Why not here? There’s no one for miles,” she protested unreasoningly.

“Because the first time, won’t be in the dirt like animals,” he said, kissing her again. “We both deserve better than that.”

“I wouldn’t complain,” she said with a ragged laugh.

“I would. So it’s a nice reversal. You complain about everything else; I’ll complain about this,” he said playfully, nipping at her lips.

“Since when do I complain about everything?”

“Since forever. The curry. The bugs. The sleeping bags. I mean, I saved you from torture and death.”

“You saved me from Valium and Diet Coke.”

“You should be eternally grateful.”

“The bugs are hideous here. It’s surreal.”

“Okay, I’ll give you the bugs, but the food isn’t bad. Let’s head back.”

“Only if you promise not to protest that you won’t take me on a sleeping bag in a cinder block room. Because you may not, but I’ll take
you
that way any day of the week.”

              “Deal,” he said and shot off ahead of her down the dirt road, kicking up dust with every stride.

              The house was empty and dim when they returned. She knew how she looked, sweat cutting rivulets through the dust on her heated skin, wisps of hair twisting free from her ponytail. She didn’t have a mirror, but she knew how Cain looked too. Sweaty and a little sunburned, he was sexy as damnation itself. Riley pulled him into the room they shared and stripped off her jacket, dropping it to the floor, and started on his t-shirt. She pushed it up from the hem, sliding her hands up his sides as she drew the damp fabric over his head.

              She was aware of the stillness, the almost unnatural silence of the Indian countryside, the cinderblock room with its concrete floor. A city girl at heart, she’d never gravitated toward places where the only sound came from the buzz of insects. But here she was, listening to the erratic thud of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. Loosening the drawstring on his running shorts, she pushed them down and he kicked them away along with his shoes. Stepping toward him, she closed the remaining distance between herself and his naked body. Riley set her mouth on his throat; tasting his skin and feeling the flutter of his pulse kick up satisfactorily at her kiss.

              “The minute I saw you knocking back margaritas at nine in the morning by the pool bar, I wanted you,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire.

              “It was a daiquiri, and it wasn’t nine in the morning in Atlanta. I was still on Atlanta time.”

              “No, it was seven in the morning in Atlanta,” he laughed. She felt the laugh rumble in his chest beneath her palms.

              Reaching down his right side, she trailed her fingertips up the flat ridge of his scar, shutting her eyes to memorize the feel of him. When her lips parted, ready to speak, he took her mouth with his, her palms flattening against his muscular back as she was lost in his kiss. She loved the smooth heat of his skin under her hands, the very fact that he stood bare before her. The faint web of scars on his chest and back gave his body an alluring geography to her fingertips. She explored him, learning him by touch.