Kansas City Christmas (6 page)

Unnamed.

Son of a…Why wouldn’t he stop? Holly turned almost completely around, taking note of each passerby with a phone to his ear. Was somebody getting a kick out of harassing her like this?

“Holly?”

Edward’s deep, raspy voice demanded an explanation.

He wasn’t getting one.

Shutting off her phone, she buried it deep inside her coat pocket and pretended the relentless wrong number hadn’t spooked her. “I’ll see if I can find a photograph of the Cyrillic
Z
tattoo I found on all the Z Group victims. If the ring you’re looking for is some kind of souvenir from the time your father and the others worked together, then maybe it will give you an idea of what you’re looking for. If I can’t find a photo, I’ll sketch you a picture of what I remember. I’ll have it ready when you come to inspect the bullet.”

“Do you have a photographic memory?”

“Not exactly.” Leaving him on the sidewalk, she circled around her car to the driver’s side door. “Just a pretty good eye for details. I’ll call you when I have something. Do you have a card where I can reach you?”

“No.”

“Well, just tell me and I can punch it in, then.”

“You’ve already turned off your phone and put it away. You don’t want whoever that was to call you again.” Her car sat between them, and yet she felt as though he was right in her face, probing deep inside her with those eyes of his. “I have a pretty good eye for details, too. And something about that phone call rattled you.”

“This little scheme of yours has dragged on for far too long, and gotten more complicated than I ever agreed to.”

The man in the hallway glared down at the woman standing in the open doorway of her hotel suite. He’d had one hell of a day and an even longer night, balancing lies and truths—carefully feigning ignorance while maintaining a vigilant watch over his current assignment. He’d been well trained for this kind of patient, precise work. But the stress gave him a headache and made him eager to rip something in two.

And she had the gall to stand there at two in the morning with those lush pink lips and a sexy pout, wearing a white diaphanous nothing that captured the brightness of the snow and city lights shining through the floor-to-ceiling window across the room. He was frustrated as anything and dead set on altering their long-standing agreement, and yet she managed to look cool and desirable and completely unmoved by the trials of his day.

“Hello to you, too,” she purred with amusement. The woman stepped aside and welcomed him into her suite. She locked the door and reached up to remove his coat, pointing him to the tray of drinks on the coffee table while she knocked the snow off the collar and hung the coat in the closet. “You’re later than I expected. Any problems?”

She was lucky he’d shown up at all. Hers wasn’t the only number on his phone he could call. There were better women in this world he could have if he wanted, but a pact with this she-devil had sealed his fate. He should remind her that she’d be nothing—she’d be dead—without his help, and that she should be grateful he’d continued the charade for this long. Instead, he poured himself a bourbon and drank the entire glass without voicing his rebellious thoughts.

While he savored the fire burning down his throat, the woman walked up behind him, sliding her hands across his shoulders and tugging his suit jacket down his arms. “You really need to learn to relax, my dear.” The gold ring she wore sparkled with the lights from outside as she plucked the glass from his hand and used the motion of setting it on the table to slip around to the front and remove his jacket.

Like that ring had any real meaning to her. Yet of all the baubles and souvenirs in her trinket box, the gold signet ring was the memento she enjoyed the most.

She tossed the jacket on the sofa and came back to play with the buttons beneath his tie. “How many times have I told you I have everything under control? I’ve never failed yet on a mission, not even when my so-called friends double-crossed me.” She smoothed her palms across the fine-weave cotton of his dress shirt, stroking the skin underneath. “Trust the plan. KCPD may know bits and pieces, but they’ll never put it all together. We’ve covered our tracks too well. We’ll adjust when and if we need to. But for now…” she cupped her palms over the rise of his pectoral muscles “…trust
me
.”

The man lurched at the wicked massage that hardened his nipples and betrayed the power she had over him.

“Stop it.” He seized her wrists and removed her hands from his body. “We need to talk.”

She raised her gaze to his. “You didn’t come here to talk at this hour. You need to vent.” With her arms pinned, she simply moved her body closer to make her point. “And I’ve always known the best way to relieve your stress, haven’t I?”

He squeezed his eyes shut and weathered his body’s traitorous response to hers. He was a professional, he told himself, a successful man in his own right. He’d earned his rank and expected others to respect his authority.

But now this curvaceous hellion was calling the shots, and he was at her mercy. In more ways than one.

He bent his head to capture her mouth with his. “There have been too many sloppy killings these past months to cover up our mistakes. Fierro. Those three escaped convicts you hired. Former Z Group operatives. Mr. Smith.”

“Not sloppy. Brilliant.” She freed her hands and tugged at the knot of his tie. “One man kills another. Or the police takes one out. And then I eliminate any killer who isn’t completely loyal. Every path leads to a dead end. Our enterprise here in Kansas City can’t be traced back to us.” The buttons of his shirt went next. “You’re not thinking of being disloyal, are you, dear?”

“Of course not.” He pushed the straps of her gown off her shoulders, determined to take control of the conversation
and
the seduction. “But now you want to target the crime lab? It feels like an awful lot of work to cover up our business together.”

His complaining made her testy. She ripped open the front of his shirt and kissed his chest. “Would you rather I allowed KCPD to connect the two of us together? Would you like to stop smuggling goods and information out of the country? The market in eastern Europe and the Middle East is more profitable than ever.”

But he demanded she hear him out. “Yes. But Z Group has always had a designated hit man to eliminate problems. Holden Kincaid shot Mr. Smith—our latest go-to man—dead. It’s too risky to conduct business without a safety net like that.” He picked her up and carried her through the doorway into the bedroom. “I want to cease operations for a while, allow KCPD’s fixation with Z Group to die down. I’ve managed to stall out their investigation for now.”

She laughed against his lips. “You’re a fool to think anything will ‘die down.’ That’s why we have to keep playing the game until we win. Those Kincaid boys are just like their father. You may have thrown up a few roadblocks to impede their investigation, but they won’t give up until they have a murderer to put away. And since Irina Zorinsky Hansford is already dead…”

“Enough, woman! That’s what I’m talking about.” He set her down and shoved her away, breaking the seductive contact so he could think straight. He raked his fingers through his hair. “Irina’s
death
thirty years ago is what started this whole mess. When she was marked as the double agent who was getting members of their organization killed, Z Group came up with the plot to eliminate her. They took an oath to keep what they’d done a secret. If KCPD and the Kincaids find out
I
know the truth, then
I’m
the one they’ll come after. As far as they know
you
don’t even exist!”

“Who’s going to find out about us?” The seductive siren had transformed into the devil she was. She reached for his belt and stole another kiss. “Irina’s death was the beginning of a whole new opportunity for us to make millions. You weren’t worried about Kincaids and repercussions when I first presented the idea of resurrecting Z Group’s connections and selling them a new generation of weapons and technology. All you saw were dollar signs. You didn’t doubt me then.”

He didn’t resist when she pushed him onto the bed and climbed on top of him. “I’m not doubting
your
talents. But we flew under the radar for a long time. I’m worried that there are too many people focused on us now.”

They continued to undress and take pleasure from each other until he almost forgot the troubles that had brought him to her bed in the first place. Why couldn’t it be like this forever? What was the harm in taking the profits they’d already made and buying themselves a small island with no U.S. extradition or tax laws? He rolled her onto her back. “Let’s forget the business for a while,” he whispered against her ear. “And go someplace warm and sunny. Kansas City is so cold this time of year.”

Her hands stilled their exploration and she dropped her head back onto the pillow with an exasperated sigh. “You want to run away?”

He kissed her again, tenderly this time.

She pushed him onto his back and straddled him, reclaiming her power. “I don’t run from trouble, dear. I take care of it. Once I learned that John Kincaid was onto our scheme—that he recognized my resemblance to Irina and thought he could build enough proof to destroy me—to destroy
us
—I saw to it that he was taken care of. You didn’t have the guts to take down a venerable cop. But I did.”

He sat up with her in his lap, as crazy with lust for her as he was annoyed by the jabs to his ego. “You never got John to tell you what he knew or that he’d hidden that information where others could find it, did you? You never broke him.”

She adjusted herself in his lap, sheathing her body over his and blurring the lines between argument and passion. “The Kincaids aren’t gods. They’re just men. I can handle men.” She wound her arms around his neck and demanded a kiss. “You just keep giving me what I want.
I’ll
keep us safe…” she rocked against him and he knew he was lost “…and make us very, very rich.”

Rich.
Yes. He pulled her close and let the physical release take him, deciding somewhere between the panting and the sighs that he could lie to the Kincaids a little while longer. Millions of dollars in his pocket could make another headache, a weary conscience, and surrendering control to this woman a risk well worth taking.

H
OLLY PUSHED HER SHOPPING BAG
, brimming with wrapped presents, to the far end of the booth and slid in beside it. Good. Their food had been served while she’d freshened up in the rest room. “Mmm. That looks and smells delicious.”

The warm, rich scents of her prime rib sandwich and au gratin potatoes welcomed her back to the table. So did her sister, Jillian. “Oh, my gosh. These ribs are da bomb.” She lifted her fingers to her mouth so that she could speak more politely while she chewed her barbecue pork. “I swear I’m going to gain twenty pounds over Christmas break if you keep feeding me like this. This for sure beats the dorm food I’ve been eating.”

“How often do I get to spoil my little sister?” She’d invited Jillian out for lunch and shopping, partly to make good on her word to Eli about keeping a closer eye on their sister while he was out of the country, but mostly because she treasured rare family moments like this. Ten years Jillian’s senior, she’d been forced to play the role of mother rather than sister after their parents had died. She liked playing grown-up friends 100 percent better. “Eat up. I’m going to put you to work back at the apartment while you’re staying with me.”

“And your idea of work would be…?” Jillian’s long brunette ponytail bobbed as she turned her head at an inquisitive angle.

Holly swallowed her bite of the cheesy, creamy potatoes.

“I’m covering so many extra shifts at the lab this week, there’s no way I can finish decorating the apartment before Christmas. And you know it’s just not Christmas until I get the angel on top of the tree.”

“And your ornament village set up.”

“And we get Mom’s apples and pineapple centerpiece put together for the table.”

“Fine.” Jillian wiped her lips with her napkin and smiled. “I’m up for decorating detail. Just don’t ask me to shovel sidewalks or scrape the windshield on any more cars. It’s amazing how quickly I’ve gotten used to going to school in Florida—and how fast all this snow and ice gets old. I enjoyed playing in the snow my first week home, but now…”

Her mock shiver left them both laughing. As they chatted about this and that, plotted what gift to give Eli and finished their meal, Holly soaked in her sister’s successful turnaround from her days as an alarmingly skinny teen who’d rebelled in a big way after losing her parents. Once destined for basketball scholarships and an all-American life, Jillian had turned to drugs for escape from the pain. The drugs had gobbled up an inheritance and insurance money, gotten her kicked off the basketball team, turned her away from her family and finally landed her in rehab.

Now she was in college working toward a degree in physical therapy. She’d been clean and sober for four years. Jillian was back to a healthy weight, and her self-esteem and mental outlook were equally healthy. Eli didn’t have a thing to worry about.

Or did he?

“Here you go, ladies.” Their waiter arrived with a tray and set a sauce-covered chocolate cake and a crème brûlée in the center of the table.

“What’s this?” Jillian puffed out her cheeks, acting just as full as Holly felt. “Do you want me to work or nap?”

“We didn’t order these.”

The waiter turned to the side and pointed. “They’re compliments of this gentleman. He took care of your meal bill as well. Enjoy.”

“Wait a minute.” But the waiter was already dashing back into the kitchen to fulfill another order.

Jillian winked. “Do you have a secret admirer?”

“No, I…I think you do.”

“Good afternoon, ladies.” Holly noted the pricey wool suit before looking up into chiseled features that were a few years older, but just as strikingly handsome as they’d been during Jillian’s darkest days. “Mind if I join you?”

Blake Rivers shook his straight blond hair off his forehead and let his Ivy League smile encompass both sisters.

Holly’s stunned reaction to the young man’s forwardness delayed her response a moment too long. “We were just leav—”

“Sure.” Jillian scooted over and patted the seat beside her. “It’s been a long time, Blake. I thought you were off to graduate school at M.I.T.”

“I was. Mother and Father insisted I go back and finish my degree.” He unbuttoned his jacket and sat next to Jillian, draping his arm along the back of the booth as if they were all old friends.

Holly curled her fingers in her lap, resisting the urge to reach across the table and knock his arm away from its comfortable perch behind Jillian’s shoulders. Instead, she bided her time, assessing the clarity of his blue eyes and trying to get a whiff of him beneath the cologne he wore. Her first impression was that he wasn’t currently using. But the cologne might be masking the scent of any alcohol he’d been drinking.

Blake’s cool blue eyes smiled as though he was aware of her scrutiny—aware that she couldn’t find fault with him today. Not like the night when he’d dumped a stoned Jillian off on Holly’s apartment stoop and driven back to rejoin a party where they’d both gotten plastered.

Holly tipped her chin and met his silent challenge head on. “So, what brings you back to Kansas City, Blake?”

“I’m working at Caldwell Technologies, in their product development department.”

Jillian prompted him to continue. “Sounds interesting.”