Authors: Desiree Holt,Cerise DeLand
feeling the heat of that luscious ass. God, Bella. I could hardly keep from coming right then.”
He spread her thighs and positioned the head of his cock at her opening, let out a
slow breath and eased himself inside her. She couldn’t help the sigh of pleasure that
whispered from her as she felt the fullness of him stretching her vaginal walls.
“Hold out your breasts for me,” he growled. “Rub your nipples.”
At that point she would have done anything he asked her to. She lifted her breasts
and captured her nipples, squeezing them as her gaze locked with his.
And then he moved, slowly at first then harder and faster. Sweat slicked his body as
he fought for control, tried to pace himself but she could see the ridge of every muscle stand out with the effort.
“I can’t hold on to it,” he gritted. “Come with me, Bella. Come now.”
As if she could control her response, either, as primed as she was. He drove into her
hard, once, twice, three times and they exploded together. The walls of her pussy
clamped around his pulsing cock, feeling the hot spurts of his release filling the latex sheath. Isabella wrapped her legs around him to pull him in as tight as she could while her body continued to shudder with his.
At last he fell forward then rolled to the side, taking her with him. She wasn’t sure
if it was her heart or his she felt pounding so loudly, his breath or hers that split the air so harshly as lungs dragged in oxygen.
Bella had no idea how much time had passed before Lane finally eased himself
from her body and pulled her up with him. He kissed her, an expression of such deep
affection it brought tears to her eyes. How had she been so lucky as to meet this man
and connect with him like this?
He slid from the bed and lifted her to him.
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“Shower time,” he told her. “Then room service and sleep. Tomorrow we have a
very big day.”
“I pray it will be a successful one,” she told him.
“It will be. Just keep the faith.”
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“Fourteen hours and ten minutes left to find these kidnappers before they hit their
targets,” Bella fretted as she and Lane walked down the hall of the George V hotel in
Paris the next afternoon.
They stopped and Lane knocked on the hotel room door of Nicki and Adam
Molloy. He squeezed Bella’s waist for reassurance.
“No worries,
cara mia
. We are ahead of these guys in so many ways.”
The door swung open to the wide, grinning face of Adam Molloy.
“Come in, come in!” he beckoned, stepping aside to let them both into his and his
wife’s suite in the five-star hotel. “We’ve got a good bottle of champagne awaiting you and a few
amuse-bouche
. You both look like you could use a good drink right about now.”
“Just what Bella and I need right now, Molloy, is to be amused.” Lane stuck out his
hand to shake Adam’s. The two men had cemented a relationship over the past few
months built from mutual appreciation of the other’s intelligence and efficiency. “Great to see you two. Meet Isabella, Adam. Hey, Nicki.” Lane strode forward to briefly
embrace his boss, one of the two female partners in Nemesis. “Glad you are here.”
The tall, elegant, ebony-haired beauty shook back her waist-length, straight hair
and looked him over. “You look ragged. Not much sleep, I gather, with all the work,
eh?”
“Sleep I can do later,” he replied.
After all this is over with and I figure out how to keep
Bella intrigued and hot to have me permanently.
That last thought jolted him and he rummaged in his brain for something to conceal it from the others. “Here’s the newest
member of our team.” He stepped away to let Bella meet Nicole Welles Molloy.
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While the two women began a conversation, Lane ran a hand through his hair and
moved toward Adam who was uncorking a bottle of Dom Pérignon. “Did you have a
chance to read my notes on this Octo group?”
“I did. Also got the supporting docs from Maddie and Dan. Interesting.”
“What’s even more interesting are the forensics reports from the Finanza in Rome
on the scene of Franzoni’s kidnapping.”
Adam handed him a flute of the champagne. “Have a drink of this. It’ll change your
mood.”
Want to bet?
Lane took the glass and let the silk bubbles burst in his mouth.
Nice, but
not as good as Bella.
He tried to smile. “You’re right. Great stuff here. Question is, after I tell you what I’ve got, and you fill me in on what you and Nicki have done here in
Paris, will your champagne help any one of our moods?”
“Let me give the women their glasses and we’ll all decide if we’ll feel better any
time soon.”
The four of them seated themselves on the plush damask sofas of the sitting room.
And as they talked, it became clear that the champagne was infinitely brighter than
anyone’s news.
“The finance ministers of the G8, minus Arturo Franzoni, are to arrive here…”
Nicki glanced at her watch, “in the next hour or so. They’re not happy, to say the least.”
“Under the threat of bombs or kidnapping,” Adam continued, “they will come
through with whatever is needed. Interpol, Europol, CIA and extra security from each
of their countries are on tap.”
“The hotel,” Lane ventured, “must be crawling with undercover agents as well.”
“Then add a contingent of Paris gendarmes!” Adam waved a hand. “You can’t go to
the ice machine without bumping into one trying to look like he’s an average guy.”
Bella put her champagne on the coffee table, and Lane noticed she had taken only
one sip. Her eyes bore dark circles from the lack of sleep and he felt a sharp pang of
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guilt. If she wasn’t worrying about her friend Arturo, she and he were locked in some
fierce embrace, satisfying every carnal instinct known to god or man. Hoping the
incredible sex would ease the tension that gripped them nearly every moment. “Let me
tell you about the forensics report from the scene of the kidnapping.”
Nicki nodded. “Do, please.”
Lane offered, “Sorry we couldn’t send it to your phones. The first transmission was
garbled and they only resent it five minutes ago.”
Bella dug into her tote and pulled out her phone. In a few clicks, she had opened
the file to refresh her memory as she told Nicki and Adam about Arturo’s assailants.
“The purse was the same color, make and style as the others left in the galleries. Looks like the same dye lot number, too. So all purses were purchased at the same time by the same vendor. As of two hours ago, the Finanza has asked L.L. Bean to search their
records for the purchase of three or more of these items by one customer.”
Adam snorted. “Criminals always trip up on the fine points.”
Bella agreed. “Inside the purse left outside Arturo’s home was a fog bomb. No
plastique.”
“Because this bomb was never meant to blow up, but to cover whatever action they
planned,” Lane continued, “Octo is not really interested in mass murder.”
“Kidnapping,” Nicki pointed out, “is not exactly a nonviolent act.”
“No,” Bella said, “but this time we have a residue on the purse which tells us the
purse was recently in Lake Garda.”
“Crazy.” Nicki sat back, stunned but rueful. “What person planning a crime would
be so careless?”
“An amateur criminal,” Lane offered. “Careless to drop it and then careless to use it
anyway.”
A phone rang.
Nicki turned to Adam. “Yours?”
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He raised a finger as he rose to get it from their bedroom. “
Lake Garda?
You’re sure?”
Bella looked at the pdf file on her phone, frowning. “The Finanza forensics
specialists are very good and they say…
sì
, here it is. ‘The calcium levels in the residue and the presence of certain microbes lead us to conclude this purse was submerged in
the waters of an Italian lake from the Alpine regions. Specifically, Lake Garda.’”
“Hold that thought,” Adam told them all as he left them for the bedroom and his
ringing cell phone.
“I’ll wait,” Bella said to the others, “until Adam returns before I continue with this.”
“While Adam is talking,” Nicole said, “let me bring you up to speed on our work.
We’ve gotten a list of all the finance ministers’ room numbers. The suites for them, the rooms for their staffs. French law enforcement has given us their contact numbers, but
they’re not happy to work with us.”
Bella winced. “I understand. Independents on the job do not make them feel very
competent.”
“Exactly,” Nicki smiled as she fished her own phone from her trouser pocket. “The
heat of the competition gives them hives. Let me send you the contact numbers now so
you have them all, just in case.”
“Good idea,” Lane said as he and Bella watched Nicole transfer the info and saw it
come up on his screen, then heard it ring in on Bella’s.
“News,” Adam announced as he stood in the doorway of the sitting area, looking
like he just swallowed a canary.
“
What
?” Nicki urged him.
“Let me say this fast. Digest it all on our way down in the elevator. Okay?”
“Sure,” Lane agreed, and got to his feet. “Hit us.”
“Raul Toro, who just finished a case for us in the south of France, just texted me.
He’s in the lobby himself, sent by Maddie since his other case wrapped up, and the
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head of the French police just tipped him off. And hold on to your hats, the heads of
Kopf are arriving in the lobby as we speak.”
“Kopf?” Bella jumped to her feet. “In the same hotel as the finance ministers!”
Lane was right beside her. “They’ve got to be nuts to come here.”
Adam snorted. “They are not known for being reticent. Who knows the real reason
they’ve come? Could be anything.” Adam shrugged as the four of them picked up their
keys and pocketed their phones. “They’re afraid. They’re stupid. They’re cocky. They
want to thumb their noses at Octo. Hell. Who knows. But hold on. There’s something
else I need to tell you.”
Lane paused with the two women at the door to the hall. “Yeah, what?”
“I’ve researched Henri Liebermann.”
Lane racked his brain for the meaning of the name. “The guy who thinks the three
owners of Kopf own French art stolen from Jewish Parisians by the Nazis?”
“The same. He’s also in town this week, speaking at a forum on recovery of French
art from the Third Reich. My contacts in Jerusalem tell me that Liebermann lists on the Israeli Register of Illegally Seized Property, among other items, a painting by Van Gogh that two months ago a dealer in Paris tried to buy from one of the three owners of
Kopf.”
“This is our first indication that any of the rumors that Kopf owners held stolen
property is accurate,” Bella said.
“Exactly,” Adam nodded. “Too bad the dealer cannot verify it.”
Lane didn’t like the question he had to ask. “Why can’t he?”
Adam stared at Lane. “He’s dead. Sudden heart attack. Soon after word got out into
the art world.”
“No coincidence?” Lane speculated.
“Very little,” Adam answered. “Unfortunately we have no solid evidence to
persuade the family to exhume the body and test for drugs.”
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Lane mulled that over. “Which one of the Kopf group did the dealer attempt to buy
from?”
“The German.”
“Wilhelm Gottfried?” Bella asked, her eyes wide and bright with expectation.
“Wonderful. I’ve always thought he was a snake in the grass.”
“You’ve had dealings with him before?” Nicki asked her.
“I met him briefly four years ago. I was with a team from the Finanza and we
investigated a bomb threat at his home.” Her voice trailed off and she looked at Adam,
realizing the idea that had suddenly occurred to her had also popped into his brain.
They both grinned.
Lane slapped a hand to his thigh. “Okay, Nicki and I give up. Tell us the secret!”
“Shall I?” Bella asked Adam with a conspiratorial wink.
“Be my guest.”
She looked at the others. “Wilhelm Gottfried owns a glorious, fabulous two-
hundred-year-old villa.” Her eyes twinkled. “On Lake Garda.”
Lane shook his head. “And?”
Nicki looked from Lane to her newest employee then to her husband. “I don’t get
the connection.”
Adam grinned. “Henri Liebermann owns a villa on Lake Garda, too. I happen to
know that over the past few years he’s attended some social events at Gottfried’s. I
think Gottfried invited him to flaunt the art and Liebermann went to see for himself.”
“Does that connect at all with the bomb threat?”
“I’m wondering now if it did. When I remembered that connection I recalled where
I first saw that purse bomb and it was at Gottfried’s.”
Everyone stared at her. “The same bomb? The same purse?”
“Different kind of bomb but the same purse.”
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Nicki exchanged a look with Adam. “Then this has been going on for a very long
time.”
“The attempts to reclaim the art, maybe,” Lane said. “Somehow Octo has narrowed
their list down to the heads of Kopf as the primary owners of the art they’re seeking.
But obviously they’ve been ineffective in previous attempts and finally decided to take drastic measures.” He opened the door for the four of them. “Let’s get downstairs and