Too Wild to Hold. Julie Leto

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СКАЧАТЬ can get me out of here.”

      “The FBI has no idea I’m here.”

      “Why not?” she asked.

      “Wasn’t time. Once I figured out where you’d gone, which, admittedly, wasn’t easy, I could either follow procedure or find you before the bad guy did. I hope you agree I made the right choice.”

      She sipped her brandy again. He hadn’t imagined her to be the thoughtful type—from what he’d read about her, she was more of an act-now, ask-questions-later type of woman. But something about him made her look before she leapt, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad omen.

      “Where’d you get the money?” she asked.

      “Does it matter?”

      “I’m making small talk,” she said, turning her face so that her fake smile flashed at the camera. “Trying to decide whether or not to trust you. It’s not like I had a chance to examine your credentials thoroughly. I barely saw them.”

      “Trust me,” he murmured. “Your aunt looked them over carefully. I take it you’ve given her some tips on ferreting out fakes?”

      “Ha! Clarice taught me. She may be pushing sixty, but she’s the sharpest woman I know.”

      “And she thought it was a good idea for you to come here when a serial psycho is after you? Oh, wait, you left out that part.”

      “Your FBI counterparts didn’t say anything about him being a serial psycho,” she pointed out. “They just said he was a stalker. And I didn’t want her to be involved at all, but even I’m not hotheaded enough to come into this place alone. She has my cell phone and can dial 9-1-1 like a pro. She’s also a crack shot and carries a .32 in her purse. I know my plan wasn’t the best, but it’s all I could come up with on short notice. Sound familiar?”

      With a chuckle, he toasted her with his snifter, then took a sip of the liqueur, not at all impressed by the taste, but appreciating the fortifying heat. He and Claire did have one very big thing in common—they’d both come here on false pretenses. If either one of them was found out, they’d be in a boatload of trouble. From inside and out.

      “Very familiar.”

      “Then why didn’t you just wait for me to get home? If I’m lucky, my case will be done tonight. I saw my client’s ex-wife’s alias on a guest list. Once I locate her and get her signature, I’ll be out of here.”

      “Unless her fake name is fake.”

      “What?”

      “In the five cases we’ve connected to the unsub, he takes his victim within forty-eight hours of sending the scarf. You received yours the day before yesterday, right? Maybe if I hadn’t shown up tonight and enticed you to this bedroom, you wouldn’t be coming home. Ever.”

      Outside the room, someone moved. Michael turned to the door in time to see shadows dance in the transom window. Voices argued in hushed tones. Maybe his device hadn’t worked as designed, or maybe the music had not been loud enough to mask their conversation.

      Or perhaps, the voyeurs behind the video cameras were tired of watching them talk.

      He set down his untouched brandy and grabbed Claire by the arm, tugging her close so that their lips were barely an inch apart.

      She splayed her hand flat against his chest. “What do you think you’re doing?”

      The lock on the door behind them jiggled.

      “Taking what I paid for.”

      CLAIRE’S SENSES EXPLODED in rapid succession. First, she heard the muffled sound of footsteps outside in the hall. Then Special Agent Murrieta had her on her feet, in his arms, his mouth on hers.

      And oh, what a mouth it was.

      Unlike in the ballroom, where he’d toyed between gentle and insistent, his touch from both hands and lips was now rough and unyielding. At nearly the same moment, her nostrils inhaled the spiced masculine scent of his cologne and her tongue, slightly numbed by the brandy, swelled with the powerful flavors of coffee, mint and man.

      When the door burst open behind them, she did not have to feign a gasp of surprise.

      He threw her behind him.

      “What is the meaning of this?” he barked.

      Claire leaned around his solid frame and saw the dark-skinned woman, flanked by two imposing men who matched Michael in height, but surpassed him in girth by about fifty pounds each.

      The woman iced up her spine and spoke first. “I’m afraid we don’t recognize you, sir. Are you on our guest list?”

      Claire’s mind whirled with myriad explanations, but even as she opened her mouth to speak, she realized that doing so would ruin the charade. Women of the gens de couleur libre were notoriously independent, but probably not so much when in the presence of their men. Even as she decided to hold her tongue, the FBI agent who’d gone to such lengths to blend into this world dug into his jacket and produced a square of thick vellum paper. An exclusive invitation to this weekend’s event.

      “This is an outrage,” he muttered, tossing the card to the floor.

      The woman did not react, but waited for one of her lackeys to retrieve the invitation and place it gingerly into her hands. The woman’s black eyes assessed Special Agent Murrieta from head to toe, sparing Claire only a single, questioning glance that she answered with genuine confusion. Who did the woman think he was, anyway? And why had they burst in?

      One of the goons turned off the gramophone-disguised CD player, then proceeded to examine it from all angles. If he found the amplifier, they’d both be turfed out of the place. But Michael must have hidden it well. After two tense minutes, the man turned to the woman in charge and gave a hopeless shrug.

      The corners of her mouth dropped into a frown.

      “My apologies, monsieur,” she said with a little bow, her head tilted even as she gave Claire a second once-over. “It’s just that this mademoiselle is new to our society, as well. It is…unusual…for two people uninitiated in our ways to go off together so early in the evening.”

      The woman’s mouth drew into a straight, unyielding line, but Claire could have bet she was censoring herself like a preacher on a tirade. They hadn’t been made, but the people-in-charge were suspicious.

      Great. Just great.

      “My arrangement with the mademoiselle was made in complete accordance with your guidelines,” he said, snatching the invitation back. “And I may be new here, but I still prefer fresh flowers to the dry, wilted ones so heavily in attendance.”

      From her vantage point, Claire could not see Michael’s expression, but his tone of voice tipped his metaphor into the dangerous range. He’d meant to insult the woman—and from the fury in her eyes, he’d accomplished his task.

      “We will not disturb you again,” she said stiffly, “but we will be watching. To ensure you enjoy your stay.”

      Her smile reeked of СКАЧАТЬ