The Player's Club: Finn (20 page)

“Funny to hear a sudden attack of conscience from you, Diana,” Lincoln said, before Finn could finish. “Considering what we’re proposing is no more illegal than what you’ve done by researching my financial information.”

Everyone else, except Juliana, looked away for a minute as an awkward tension descended.

“Lincoln,” Diana said, interrupting the silence. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that. I don’t know how I can make up for that…short of saying that, if I go ahead with this, I’ll make sure that your information is destroyed. And I’ll make sure my private investigator has no records, either.”

Lincoln nodded.

Diana hid her face with her hands for a second. To prove she hadn’t broken the law, she was going to have to…break the law.

It felt as if she were spitting on the very reason she’d become a lawyer. But Thorn hadn’t hired her because of her ethics—he’d hired her for her unflinching willingness to get into the trenches and carry out his orders. She’d thought she was doing something good, but the bottom line was, she went places other lawyers wouldn’t go—put up with more than any of them would—and that’s why she was still at Macalister. She’d done it out of a misguided sense of loyalty, and had assumed that the loyalty went both ways.

She was wrong. And now, she was mad.

“All right,” she said.

“All right.” Finn rubbed his hands together, but Lincoln held his hand up.

“One last question,” Lincoln said. “Did you steal the money?”

“No,” Diana said. She looked Lincoln directly in the eye. “No, I did not.”

He stared for a long minute, then he nodded.

“Just like that?” she asked in disbelief. Thorn, who had known her for years, hadn’t accepted her denial…and she hadn’t dug into
his
financial dirty laundry. “You believe me?”

“You’re not lying,” Lincoln said. “I might not trust you, but on this, at least, I can tell you’re being straight.”

The relief she felt was overwhelming, and she felt tears prick her eyes. “It’s not going to be easy,” she said, surreptitiously wiping away the moisture with the back of her hand. “In fact, I think it’s going to be impossible.”

“Not to worry,” Finn said. “The impossible’s my favorite.”

13

“TO OUR SUCCESS, BOYS!”

George was at his small, bland town house, popping the cork on champagne and letting some of the frothing mass spill out onto the ugly rented carpet. These surroundings wouldn’t be his for much longer, he thought, filling the three crystal flutes.

Jonesy shook his head. “Nah, that’s a woman’s way to toast,” he said, holding up his squat square glass of whiskey. “Maybe that’s more Vic’s drink, eh? With a maraschino cherry in it?”

As Jonesy laughed, Victor, wearing a green walking cast on his left leg, didn’t say anything, but eyed the man warily. Victor didn’t touch his champagne.

“Now, now, play nice.” George hated the fact that he, too, was nervous around Jonesy. “We pulled it off, didn’t we? It’s all settled. We’ve got the money, Diana’s catching the blame for it, and Finn and his dad are on the outs. The way it’ll play out, Finn’ll quit voluntarily, because he’s an idiot. So let’s not focus on the…previous unpleasantness.”

“Easy for you to say,” Victor muttered. “It’s not your leg that psycho broke.”

Jonesy’s eyes gleamed. “Be thankful, yeah?” he said, running his tongue around his teeth. “It could’ve been your right leg—at least you can drive.” His smile was fierce. “And it could’ve been worse even than that, Vic. Much, much worse.”

Victor didn’t say anything else.

“You’ve got your cut, Jonesy,” George pointed out. “So I guess you’re on to bigger and better things. You going to use that quarter mil to start getting your own revenge?”

“What revenge?” Jonesy said.

George stared for a second. “You know. On your family.” He waited a beat as Jonesy simply looked at him blankly. “They cut you out of your family fortune, and you said that you were going to use the money to get some payback, make some money while you’re at it. They’re in, what, London?”

Jonesy’s laughter was loud, almost infectious—George might’ve joined him, if he hadn’t seen the cold glint behind in the man’s eyes.

“Good grief, you’re like a toddler. Sure I told you that, mate. It’s what you wanted to hear…no, it’s what you
needed
to hear right then, wasn’t it?”

George frowned. “You only…said it to make me feel better?”

“You are seriously stupid,” Jonesy marveled. “I couldn’t have run the con otherwise, could I?”

George went cold. “This…”

“Worked better than I would’ve expected for something I came up with on the fly,” Jonesy said, preening. “I heard you complaining to everyone about what you were owed, and found out just how close you were to the Macalister money. Easy enough from there to do a little researching and a little planning. Then all I had to do was buy you a drink, tell you a sob story, and wait for you to roll over. Child’s play. You were easier than a ten-dollar whore, Georgie.”

Temper burned through George, hot enough to have him swinging at Jonesy. He’d already started drinking, though, and Jonesy dodged his clumsy roundhouse punch, before delivering a harsh blow of his own. Suddenly, George was on the ground, clutching at his side, straining for his next breath. He stared up at Jonesy through eyes that watered.

“Let’s not do that again, eh?” Jonesy sounded bored. “Getting your ass kicked won’t change the situation, after all.”

“So you conned me for a quarter of a million.” George closed his eyes. He ought to just pretend it was a finder’s fee, he thought. Look at Jonesy as a consultant, some kind of coach. Yeah. That way it was an operating expense…and not that he was a complete and utter idiot.

“Now, that’s a bit of a misstatement,” Jonesy said, and he seemed genuinely cheerful. “The quarter mil was a very nice start. But here’s where the deal sweetens.”

He towered over George, and George had to force himself not to cower.

“The way I see it, if everything works out, you’ll be coming into some steady money, Georgie boy, and our gambling friend Victor here will no doubt be promoted for his diligence, which will mean a small increase in his income, as well. Since we both know he shouldn’t be trusted with more money, I can’t see why I shouldn’t get that increase, plus a bit more. It’d probably be in your best interest to keep me in the lifestyle I’m now accustomed to.”

“Why should I?” George spluttered.

“Well, two reasons, really,” Jonesy said pleasantly. “The first being that neither of you would like the details of this little scenario known, not by your uncle, and certainly not by the police.”

George felt his cheeks flush, his eyes water with anger more than pain now.

“And here’s the second.”

He delivered a swift kick to George’s stomach, and he let out a muffled scream.

“Get up and drink your girlie drink, Georgie,” Jonesy said cruelly, heading for the door. “Because I don’t know how much you’ll feel like celebrating for a good long while.”

FINN WOKE UP in Diana’s bed, with the sun streaming in through a high window. She was a morning person, he thought groggily. God save him from morning people.

She rolled over, and her lush naked skin was next to him. Now there was a whole new side to morning that he could appreciate.

He stroked her hair over one shoulder, pressing intent kisses against her neck, down her spine. She was backing her pert ass against his rock-hard erection. “Good morning,” he said huskily, reaching around and cupping her breast as his cock teased at her thighs.

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re here.” Her brown eyes were as rich as Parisian hot chocolate. “Can’t believe we’re here together.”

He smiled. “I know exactly how you feel.”

“How?” she murmured, so softly that he barely heard her. “You’re rich, good-looking. You could have any woman you want.”

“I’ve never wanted any woman the way I want you,” he responded. She was such a puzzle. She was the only thing that stirred him as much as his crazy stunts had. “You don’t see how special you are, Diana. But I do.”

She turned around, crushing her breasts against his chest. “Kiss me, Finn.”

“Absolutely,” he answered, and did as she requested. The kiss was a slow exploration, like someone returning to a favorite spot after years of yearning absence. He tasted her, leisurely, his tongue tracing the soft inner skin of her lips until she shivered against him. Then he coaxed her tongue to do the same. When she did, it was as if his body exploded…he wanted all of her, all at once.

Slow down,
he chastised himself. He didn’t need to be in any rush. He had years, a lifetime, to touch and tempt her.

Wait a second. Years?

Before he could examine that new thought too closely, she sighed against him. Her hand smoothed a path up his chest, her rounded nails clawing delicately along his abs, causing him to shudder. When her fingers circled his shaft, milking him with gentle pressure, he leaned his head against her shoulder, knowing he’d lost control.

He couldn’t slow down now for anything or anyone.

He cupped her breasts, and she arched her back, filling his palms with her, moaning softly in the back of her throat. He groaned in response, his cock hardening painfully, wanting her damp, hot passage. He leaned down, sucking her nipple gently between his lips, and he let his teeth grate softly over it, gratified by her gasp. He reached down, still suckling, his fingers pushing aside the small tangle of curls to discover she was ready, causing his body to tense even more. He pressed a finger past her folds, finding the hard, throbbing nubbin of flesh. He traced it tenderly, feeling her buck slightly beneath his hand.

“Finn,” she sighed, her breathing shaky. He pressed his finger in deeper, relishing the rippling texture of her tight heat. He groaned, wanting nothing more than to press even deeper, with more than his fingers. Instead, he added a second finger, pressing inside her and withdrawing rhythmically as he sucked on first one nipple, then the other.

She was arched beneath him like a bow, her hips urging him on. He had her wet and moaning, her head moving back and forth restlessly. Then he paused, causing her to complain in a wordless cry.

He reached for a condom from the nightstand, rolling it on as fast as if his life depended on it.

He was on top of her now, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, tightly. “Now, Finn,” she pleaded, her voice drenched with urgency.

He eased forward, made easier by her slickness even as her body welcomed him. “Diana,” he groaned, shuddering slightly, forcing himself to hold perfectly still for fear of losing control in one split second.

She leaned up, nipping at his collarbone. He savored the feel of her body surrounding him. He pushed on. She met each slow thrust with a sweet pressure of her own. He kept up the rhythm, a slow, steady beat of intensity and longing.

She was panting in harsh, choppy breaths, and her body gripped him. His thrusts more eager, more intense.

“Finn!”
she screamed, surprising him, and her body contracted hard. His orgasm, likewise, hit him hard, surprising him yet again, and he yelled as he came.

“I like waking up with you,” he said, and she let out a ringing burst of laughter.

“You’re better than an alarm clock,” she teased him right back. “Want to take a shower?”

They did, and he wound up deciding to repeat the performance, only wet and vertical. And then there was a bout on the washing machine, where she wrapped her legs around his waist as the vibration of the dryer sped them on to completion.

By lunchtime, he was worn out.

“We’ve got to stop this,” Diana said, with a breathless chuckle, as they headed for the kitchen. “I know you’re trying to keep my mind off my problems, but if you cheer me up any more, I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk!”

“We need sustenance,” he announced. “Maybe some water. Vitamin C.”

“I’ll see if anybody delivers oysters,” she said, with a saucy wink.

He smiled, then heard his phone ringing. His father. He glanced at Diana, who was humming happily and going through take-out menus near the phone. “I’ve got to answer this,” he said, hoping his smile didn’t look too fake as he slipped out the back door and took the call. “Dad.”