Читать книгу High-Risk Reunion - Gail Barrett - Страница 10

Gabrielle gaped at Rafe in dismay, watching everything she’d worked for crumble apart. Bad enough she’d had to return to País Vell. Worse that she’d had to drug the American diplomat, who’d have one heck of a headache when he finally came to. But now the moment she’d dreaded for three torturous years had arrived—she’d come face to face with Rafael Navarro, the man she’d once desperately loved.

And at the worst possible time. She wasn’t prepared. She needed time to erect her defenses. And she couldn’t afford to mess up this mission. This was her one opportunity for vengeance, to finally bring down the killer who’d murdered her father, the man she’d worked tirelessly to incriminate for the past three years.

Rafe’s gaze skewered hers, making her pulse sprint. She pressed her clammy palms to her thighs, determined not to let him see how thoroughly he disrupted her nerves. It didn’t help that he was still outrageously gorgeous with his darkly chiseled face, a sorcerer’s black eyes, that thick shock of straight black hair.

Unabashed masculinity radiating from every pore.

He leaned his tall, sinewed body even closer, his furious eyes boring into hers. Stark grooves bracketed his sensual mouth, slashing through the razor stubble covering his jaw, and she battled the urge to step back.

He was still sexy, still potent. Still dangerous. And he still had that aura of menace that had always kept her enthralled. He’d called to the wildness latent inside her, luring her to forbidden pleasures, tempting her to shed society’s prohibitions, and live.

She inhaled, willing away the memories. She couldn’t think about the past. And she couldn’t worry about Rafe—not with everything she’d worked for at stake. Feigning a poise she didn’t feel, she pasted on the knowing, jaded expression she now used to keep men safely at bay.

“Imagine meeting you here,” she drawled, injecting a note of bored amusement into her voice. “I thought you’d given up the life of crime.”

His black eyes flashed. A muscle twitched in his iron jaw, and another whisper of unease slithered down her spine. Rafe wasn’t a man to toy with. He never obeyed the rules, never caved to another’s will. And he was impossible to control.

“Once a thief, always a thief, right, Gabrielle?”

Her face burned at the memory. She’d used that excuse to break off their engagement, aiming at his most vulnerable spot. But she couldn’t tell him the truth—that she’d had to drive him away. It was the only way she could make sure he survived.

“So why are you here?” he countered.

She hitched her shoulder toward the diplomat snoring on the bed. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Yeah.” He shot her a scathing look. “But stripping for middle-aged drunks is a new low, even for you.”

Hurt razored through her. She struggled not to let Rafe see it, her jaw aching from the effort it took to hold her smile in place. But she couldn’t miss the irony—since the last time she’d made love was with him.

“He’s not so bad,” she gritted out.

“Right. He looks like a real ball of fire in bed.”

Her smile frozen, she angled up her chin. “That’s none of your business.”

“The hell it isn’t. You made it my business when you waltzed in on my case.”

“Your case?” She managed to scoff. “I’ve got more right to be here than you do. At least I was invited in.”

His onyx eyes turned deadly. He shifted closer, his wide shoulders caging her in. She moved back and bumped the nightstand, her heart tripping through her chest.

“Cut the crap, Gabrielle. Why are you really here?”

She tried again to inch backward. Her breath dammed up in her lungs. Rafe was too big, too close. Too threatening. Warnings skittered inside her, igniting the urgent need to flee.

But he didn’t budge. He towered over her, his broad chest filling her vision, sharp intelligence blazing in his eyes.

She frantically shuffled through options, desperate to make him back off. She couldn’t tell him the truth, but he’d see through any lies. Maybe the partial truth would satisfy his curiosity, enough to persuade him to leave.

“Fine. If you must know, I’m looking for information.”

“What kind of information?”

“Business. Something that affects FerrCom, my corporation. It has nothing to do with you.”

At least not directly. She’d recently intercepted a message using her company’s secret backdoor access to the billing software they ran. The message revealed that the American diplomat would deliver some highly sensitive intelligence to the king at the G-6 summit, exposing the identity of a traitor in the king’s inner circle.

The trouble was, the police chief—the man she believed to be the traitor—had access to the communications, too. And she knew he would never allow that intelligence to reach the king. She had to confiscate it before he did and deliver it to the prime minister, head of an ultrasecret spy group dedicated to protecting the king.

Resolve settled inside her. She’d waited three long years for this opportunity to destroy the police chief—the man who’d murdered her beloved father and assaulted her.

And this time she wouldn’t fail.

“You’re stealing from your competitors?” Rafe’s voice rang with outrage, drawing her attention back to him. “After claiming my criminal background would hurt your career?”

She tried not to wince. She’d only said that to drive him away. “I might as well. I learned to steal from the best.”

His eyes turned glacial. And guilt caught her square in the gut. She didn’t want to hurt him. She’d already caused him enough pain.

And she knew he’d gone straight—at least, until now. Shortly after they’d met he’d severed his ties to his tight-knit family, making himself an outcast, sacrificing everything he cared about to uphold the law.

But she had to throw him off her trail. She couldn’t risk that he’d discover the truth about the past—or get too close to her now.

“So why are you really here?” she asked again.

“I’m looking for jewelry.”

“In the castle? During the summit?” Even an adrenaline junkie like Rafe wouldn’t have the gall.

“You know me—always aiming out of my league.”

She flinched, the haughty words she’d used to reject him flaying her now. But she bit down hard on her lip to keep from blurting out a defense. It was safer for them both if he believed the worst.

No matter how badly his derision stung.

She studied his furious eyes, still unable to believe he’d resumed a life of crime. But what else could he be up to? He couldn’t possibly know about the intelligence she sought.

She shook her head. She’d have to puzzle that out later. She needed to get what she came for and leave—before the diplomat came to.

“Great,” she said, trying to sound offhand. “Then we won’t be in each other’s way. You can hunt for jewelry, and I’ll look for that information I need.”

Her composure rattled, she swiveled back to the bed. Trying hard to ignore Rafe still looming beside her, she got to work—punching the pillows and tangling the sheets, tugging off the diplomat’s pants. She couldn’t hide her presence in the diplomat’s bedroom. Dozens of guests had seen them leave the reception together, and the surveillance cameras had recorded them walking through the halls to his room. Her only chance to avoid suspicion when he discovered the missing intelligence was to give the appearance that they’d had sex.

She grabbed the diplomat’s glass from the nightstand and turned toward the bathroom—but Rafe still barred her way. He stood with his feet planted wide, his muscled arms folded over his chest, his cynical eyes tracking her moves.

Her stomach churning, she pushed past him. She didn’t care what he thought. She’d come here for justice, not forgiveness—especially from him.

She marched into the adjacent bathroom, her high heels clicking on the medieval stones, then glanced in the bathroom mirror. Behind her, Rafe finally began prowling around the bedroom, and she let out a pent-up breath. Lord, she didn’t need this. Returning to País Vell was dangerous enough. Hopefully he’d give up on finding valuables and leave before this night got worse.

Still keenly aware of Rafe’s movements, she rinsed out the diplomat’s wine glass, erasing traces of the drug she’d used, then returned it to the nightstand by the bed. To be safe, she swirled in some untainted wine.

Hesitating, she studied the nearly nude diplomat, his gray-haired chest rising with every ragged snore. Deciding to add another touch, she ripped a page from the notepad by the telephone, jotted down that she’d enjoyed the night, and left it on the pillow beside his head.

That done, she set to work. Following in Rafe’s footsteps, she searched the room—rifling through the drawer in the bedside table, checking the diplomat’s suitcase, examining the pockets and seams of his clothes. She assumed he’d put the information she needed on a computer flash drive or something equally as easy to transport.

But where had he squirreled it away?

She rummaged through the antique armoire as Rafe looked under the bed. Still nothing. Frustrated, she re-entered the bathroom and checked his toiletry case.

A soft click from the bedroom reached her ears. Whirling back, she spotted Rafe kneeling beside a briefcase on the floor. Her pulse quickening, she rushed to his side. “Let me see that,” she said.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he opened the briefcase and thumbed through the folders, then pulled out a small velvet bag. He loosened the drawstring and dumped the contents into his palm. A large gold ring gleamed against his black leather glove.

Her jaw dropped. So he really had come here in search of jewels. But why? He’d quit his family’s business years ago.

Still holding the ring, he rose, slipped it back into the velvet bag, then stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans.

She stared at him in disbelief. “You’re not really going to take that.”

“Damn straight I am.”

“But … you can’t. I’ll get blamed.” Too much evidence placed her in the room. And stealing the flash drive was one thing. She needed that to bring down a murderous traitor, an end she could justify. But a ring … “You have to put it back.”

“Forget it.” He turned toward the long, velvet drapes.

Panic swarmed inside her. “Rafe, please,” she begged. “This is going to mess everything up.”

His head swung around. The fury in his eyes stopped her cold. “I’m a thief, Gabrielle. This is what I do. So why should I put it back?”

She clenched her hands, her stomach in total turmoil as he flung her words back at her. But she couldn’t explain why she’d lied, why she’d had to push him away. She could never let him know.

But if she got arrested for the theft … The police chief would get away with her father’s murder. He’d lock her behind bars—or worse.

“Listen,” she pleaded. “I know I’m asking a lot, but you have to believe me—”

“Believe you?” He let out a bitter laugh. “After the way you lied to me?”

“I didn’t—”

A man’s voice rose in the hallway, cutting her off. She froze in sudden alarm. Someone was coming. Oh, God. She had to go.

But she hadn’t found the flash drive yet.

“Expecting someone?” Rafe asked.

“What? No, of course not.” How could he think that?

Footsteps thudded outside the door. Her entire body tensed.

“Secure the stairs,” the man called out. “I’ll check the bedroom.”

Her stomach plunged. Raymundo Ortiz. The police chief. The man who’d slaughtered her father and nearly murdered her.

She stared at the door in horror, knowing she had to flee. But if she ran, she’d look guilty. And she hadn’t done anything wrong—aside from slipping the diplomat that drug. But did she dare stay and try to brazen it out, and confront that cold-blooded killer alone?

Rafe shot her a glare, as if she’d conjured up Ortiz, then pushed through the velvet drapes. The doorknob rattled hard. Her pulse went berserk. No way was she taking on Ortiz. She turned and rushed after Rafe.

She caught up with him at the alcove door. He whipped around, anger rolling off him in waves. “What do you want now?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Not with me, you aren’t.”

“Then move aside.” Frantic, she tried to step around him. He shot out his arm and blocked her way. “Are you crazy? You can’t just go waltzing out there. The guards will shoot you on sight.”

“I can’t stay in here.”

“The hell you can’t.”

“Rafe, please.” More thumps rose from the bedroom door, and her desperation surged. “Let me by. I can’t let him find me. I have to go.”

He scowled at her for several heartbeats, then hissed. “Fine, follow me. But you have to do what I say. I mean it.” His fierce gaze burned into hers. “You make one wrong move and you’re on your own.” Motioning for her to be quiet, he cracked open the alcove door.

Relieved he’d agreed to help her, she shot a nervous glance at the drapes. Ortiz must have come for the flash drive. He must have seen her leave the reception with the diplomat and somehow divined her plans. But why bring backup? Why advertise his presence? Shouldn’t he sneak into the bedroom alone?

Rafe glanced her way. “Stay close.”

He didn’t have to warn her. Ortiz ran the royal police. His armed guards swarmed the castle. It would take a miracle to escape.

Rafe crept onto the medieval wall walk. She scurried after, trying not to make any noise. Dressed all in black, he instantly merged with the shadows. Her heart beat triple time as she dogged his heels.

He strode to the nearby watch tower and picked up a bundle of rope—which came as no surprise. Rafe had always prepared his heists meticulously, calculating every contingency—his secret to avoiding arrest.

But suddenly, he wheeled around, grabbed her arm, and shoved her against the tower. She gasped. “What—?”

“Shh!”

He flattened his body against hers. The rough rocks dug at her bare back. A second later, a guard charged by, his rifle raised, his heavy boots pounding the stones.

And a wild sound wedged in her throat. She hadn’t even heard him coming. If it hadn’t been for Rafe, she’d be dead.

The guard reached the alcove door. He kicked it open and charged inside.

“Come on.” Rafe seized her arm, but he didn’t have to convince her to rush. She raced across the uneven wall walk beside him, running as fast as she could in her wobbly heels.

They flew past another watch tower, then jumped down a flight of stone steps. Shouts rose from the courtyard below them, and she prayed the crenellated edge of the battlement would keep them concealed.

But a minute later, Rafe stopped again. “Get down!”

She dove to the ground, heedless of the sharp stones scraping her legs through her flimsy dress, and pressed her back to the wall. A heartbeat later, the searchlight skipped overhead.

She struggled to breathe. A siren rose in the distance, adding more confusion to her already disordered thoughts. Why the show of force? She hadn’t done anything wrong as far as the police chief knew.

Unless he was chasing Rafe …

But that didn’t make sense. Rafe had planned this job down to the second, even timing the searchlight. How had Ortiz known that he’d broken in?

Rafe leaned close. His warm breath feathered her ear. “We’ll climb down here. I’ll go first. As soon as I’m clear, grab the rope and slide down.”

“Slide?” Down a three-story wall?

“There’s no time to lower you down.” He pulled off his leather gloves and pressed them into her hands. “Wear these. And move fast. We’ve only got three minutes to beat the light.”

“Right.” Fighting back a burst of anxiety, she slipped on the supple gloves, still warm from his big hands. Then she tugged off her strappy sandals and looped them over her wrists. She could do this. She had to do this. It was the only way to survive.

The powerful beam passed by. Rafe jumped to his feet, secured the grappling hook to the wall, and tossed the rope over the side. Gabi scrambled upright as he climbed onto the ledge.

She glanced down, but the obsidian night swallowed the ground. She quickly averted her gaze, trying not to think about the deadly drop—or what would happen if she fell.

Rafe pushed off, twirled around and planted his feet on the wall. Then his dark gaze connected with hers, and for an instant, time seemed to grind to a halt. And that old sense of adventure zipped back, that heady feeling of excitement he’d always evoked. Rafe had jolted her from her sheltered upbringing, giving her a thrilling taste of danger she couldn’t resist. He’d been off-limits, forbidden. A thief. A man society didn’t approve of. A man who’d made her feel intensely alive.

“Hurry,” he urged, then disappeared into the dark.

Bunching up the hem of her ball gown, she swung her legs over the ledge. Another siren joined the first one. Footsteps thundered close by. Knowing she only had seconds, she leaned down and grabbed the rope, her stomach a riot of nerves. Then she sucked in a breath and leaped.

For a second, she couldn’t move. She clutched the rope with a death grip, too terrified to loosen her hold. Her shoulders began to ache. The night wind chilled her bare back. The rope undulated wildly beneath her as Rafe worked his way to the ground, and it was all she could do to hang on.

But she had to move. She had to get away from the wall walk before the guards caught up—or her arms gave way and she fell.

Summoning her courage, she pried her fingers apart. She instantly flew downward, the rope tearing through her hands. Too fast.

Startled, she tightened her grip and jolted to a stop, badly wrenching her arms. She panted wildly, so scared she could hardly think.

But the footsteps were pounding closer. She didn’t have time to waste. Slackening her grip, she inched down the nylon rope, sliding and stopping in erratic bursts. Her momentum spun her around, banged her against the wall, and she tried not to let out a moan.

Endless seconds crawled past. Her palms burned despite the leather gloves. Her arms trembled violently, her shoulder muscles searing as she struggled to hold on to the rope. She had no idea how much time she had left—or how many yards to the ground.

Suddenly an arm encircled her waist. Panicked, she gasped and clutched the rope. But Rafe’s voice murmured into her ear. “Let go. You made it.” Shaking, her legs wobbling so hard she couldn’t stand, she collapsed on the hard-packed dirt.

“Run,” he urged her. “Get into the woods.”

Still panting, she lifted her head. She caught the flash of the oncoming searchlight—and a fresh surge of adrenaline zapped her into gear. She lurched to her feet, gathered her hem so she wouldn’t trip, then ran full-out toward the woods.

But she realized Rafe wasn’t with her. She whirled around, spotted him still standing by the wall, whipping the long rope back and forth. A moment later, the grappling hook thudded into the ground.

He scooped up the rope, tossed it into a nearby bush, and began sprinting her way. She spun back into motion, Rafe’s footsteps spurring her on. The searchlight swung steadily closer. She desperately tried to speed up. They only had seconds to reach the trees.

Rafe flew past her and grabbed her arm. She plunged with him into the undergrowth—but then lost her balance and fell. Branches tore at her face, her hair, her arms. She crashed to the ground, her skin stinging, her breath knocked from her lungs. A fraction of a second later, the searchlight passed overhead.

Shaking wildly, her heart stampeding out of control, she lay sprawled in the prickly brush. She waited, not daring to move, as the beam swung past her again.

“This way,” Rafe called softly.

Still breathless, she slipped on her flimsy sandals to protect her feet. Then she rose and battled her way through the bushes, the sharp branches snagging her dress. She jerked it loose, ignoring the sound of ripping fabric as she stumbled through the woods after Rafe.

A wild feeling burbled inside her at the disaster she’d made of the night. She hadn’t found the flash drive. The police chief might now have it—destroying her only proof of his crimes. And she was fleeing the castle with Rafe—the one man she’d vowed to avoid.

So what should she do? She tripped on an exposed tree root, struggling to remain upright in the steep terrain. She couldn’t stay with Rafe, she knew that much. He was a wild card in this fiasco, uncontrollable. She couldn’t take the chance that he would expose her—or discover the truth about the past.

But Ortiz had seen her at the reception. He now knew she’d returned to País Vell. And if he guessed that she knew about his secret activities, he’d stop at nothing to hunt her down.

Rafe came to a halt. “Hold up.”

She bumped against him, then craned her neck to see. “What is it?”

“We’ve reached the road.”

She peered through the thick foliage. A blue LED light flashed below them, illuminating the two-lane road that switchbacked down the mountain into the town. “The police.”

“It looks like they’ve set up a roadblock.” Rafe’s low voice rumbled through the dark. “Stay here. I’ll see what I can find out.”

Without waiting for an answer, he crept off. Car doors slammed nearby. A radio squawked from the road. Gabi shivered and rubbed her arms, the night chill settling into her bones.

And the horror of her predicament spun through her mind. She’d bungled her mission badly. She’d somehow tipped off Ortiz, a man with unlimited power. But she couldn’t give up. She had to find that proof. No matter what else happened, she had to destroy her father’s murderer. This was her only chance.

A twig snapped close by. She spun around, alarmed, as a shadow materialized at her side. “It’s me,” Rafe murmured, and she pressed her palm to her rioting heart.

“What’s going on?” she whispered, her eyes searching his in the dark.

“They’re looking for us, all right.”

“Both of us?” She frowned. “Did you hear why?”

“Yeah.” He paused. His eyes turned even more grim. “They think we’ve committed a murder.”

“Murder?” she gasped.

He nodded, his mouth hardening into a slit. “The diplomat is dead.”