Chapter Nineteen

Vittorio Cinzano smoothed his hand over his hair, and gave his reflection in the tiny mirror its first smile of approval in several days. Getting back in his suit made him feel almost like his old self again, but he was still impatient to regain his freedom. That fucking bitch will pay for putting me through this.

His first priority would be to assign whatever resources it took to put an end to this bullshit, once and for all. Information could always be had, and anyone could be found, if the price was right. He had no intention of spending another night locked up.

He heard the now familiar clang of metal that foretold the imminent arrival of his jailers and smiled. Finally. Time to go home.

Theo’s stature within WITSEC helped cut through a lot of red tape, and he was on a Learjet headed for Chicago less than forty-eight hours after the explosion that would leave him unable to eat solid food for nearly two months.

A private air transport service, Ambulair Unlimited, was contracted to supply him with an R.N., a secure and comfortable hospital bed, and every sort of medical paraphernalia that might be required en route. A cardiac monitor and oxygen, bandages and IVs. His secretary had also made calls to expedite his processing through customs at both Sault Ste. Marie and in Chicago. As a result, he was settled into his new accommodations within Northwestern Memorial Hospital’s step-down ICU before the end of the day.

Theo could hardly wait for a time when he’d finally be done with intensive care, and as far away as possible from the naso-gastric tube that had been threaded up his nose and down into his stomach. It was uncomfortable as hell, and it tethered him to a noisy pumping machine he wanted to throw out the window.

He asked the doctor examining him, an attractive Hispanic woman, if the machine was really necessary.

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” she responded. “With your jaw wired shut, there’s a danger you could vomit, and choke…so we need to keep your stomach empty until you can begin to tolerate clear liquids.” She held up a pair of wire cutters that had been placed beside his bed when he had been moved to the ICU. “It’s also why we always have these nearby. So we can get your mouth open in a hurry if we need to free your airway.”

“And how long before I can actually go home?” he asked.

“A few days, maybe a week. Sooner if you have someone at home who can assist you as needed.”

“I do.”

“Then I would guess three or four days perhaps. We’ll decide based on your progress.”

Theo fell silent, crystallizing his plans. The latest report from Dombrowski had been most encouraging. Philippe Cluzet had given them just what he needed to entice Blayne back to the States. Now all they had to do was come up with a way to get in touch with Blayne and Alexi and the rest would fall into place.

Dombrowski had been apprised of Theo’s move and was led into the room as soon as the doctor had completed her preliminary evaluation.

“Welcome back,” he greeted Theo as pulled the nearest visitor chair closer to the bed. “Well, you look like hell. How you feeling?”

“Fucking Fabulous. What a comedian.”

The response was intended to produce a chuckle, and it did. Theo actually liked Dombrowski quite a lot, and in the course of their association on the Cinzano matter had considered more than once trying to lure him over to WITSEC full time. He added a rare and necessary human touch to the cases he worked, a real deep-seated concern for the innocent civilians he came in contact with.

“So, I’m here,” Dombrowski said unnecessarily. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

“You’re going to deliver a message for me,” Theo said, pacing his words so he could cope with the misery of speech. “I’d put one of my own people on this, but my sources tell me you’re the right man for this job because she trusts you.”

Dombrowski perked up. “She?”

“Blayne Keller. The other agents tell me she took to you. Trusted you. They right?” Theo studied the agent’s face.

“Well, I think we hit it off pretty well, sure,” Dombrowski agreed.

“Great. Because I think I’ve come up with a way to get her back here and into WITSEC, so we can proceed against Cinzano. Here’s what I want you to do.”

Alexi closed her bedroom door and leaned back against it, taking deep breaths. Her body was stretched tight and screaming for attention. She knew she should allow a reasonable amount of time for Blayne to go to sleep but every minute of delay was a struggle.

Forcing herself to wait fifteen minutes before she telephoned, she was careful to keep her voice low. As she hoped and expected, it took no convincing at all to arrange for a discreet rendezvous in less than an hour. Enough time, she hoped, for Blayne to fall fast and soundly asleep.

She was so pent up and ready to blow she could not stop pacing. Release was imminent, and her body knew it. It was only a matter of time. But as the minutes ticked by, she began to get the first hint of doubt that her plan would achieve all she hoped for.

Although she tried to think about the woman she had called, a leggy blonde model named Kristy Holbrook, her mind kept fixating on Blayne in the other room, and on the image of her stripping out of that tight black dress that had been driving her mad all evening. Stop torturing yourself. Think about the woman you can have, and not about what can never be.

She had met the British fashion model several months earlier when she was in town on business, staying at a hip five-star hotel called the Metropolitan. Kristy was there for a shoot at the hotel’s famous guests-and-members-only bar, the Met, where the waiters wore Armani and patrons relaxed in plush, red leather booths affording exceptional privacy.

After a couple of drinks and dinner, they had spent the next forty-eight hours in Alexi’s room doing nearly everything imaginable to each other. And she had called Kristy on a few occasions since, when she was passing through London. The twenty-three-year-old model was beautiful, passionate, and always eager to please. And best of all, like Alexi, she viewed sex as something that should be fun and uninhibited, and always uncomplicated. For that reason, hers was one of only a handful of phone numbers Alexi had bothered to memorize.

Kristy Holbrook was nothing at all like Blayne, tall and slender, not petite and curvaceous. And where Blayne was fiery red in temperament, Kristy was all polite British reserve. Until, of course, one got to know her intimately.

Yes, she should have had no problem at all getting worked up about bedding Kristy. Their liaisons had always been wonderfully satisfying. Alexi kept telling herself that, even as she spotted Kristy through the security spy-hole in the door, emerging from the elevator across the hall. She was wearing a wool navy trench coat and calf-high boots. And probably next-to-nothing underneath, if past experience were any indication.

Alexi opened the door and stepped out, pulling it nearly closed, so that she could greet the model outside the suite.

“It’s been too long,” Kristy purred, before planting a kiss first on one cheek, then the other. She was nearly four inches taller than Alexi, but her wispy frame made the difference seem less. “How nice to get your call.”

“How splendid that you were free this evening,” Alexi responded warmly. “I always so enjoy our time together.”

“As do I.”

Alexi would have preferred to have done this anywhere else, but no reasonable alternative was possible. She could not leave Blayne unprotected. “Please do not think me rude if I ask that we be especially quiet.” She held out a hand and Kristy took it. “You know how much I enjoy your…enthusiasm. But I have a business associate in the next room and I want to ensure we do not disturb her.”

“Difficult, but not impossible.” Kristy pursed her lips in a feigned pout.

They slipped into the suite and Alexi led her into her bedroom, pausing en route only long enough to quietly retrieve two glasses and two cognacs from the mini-bar. But it quickly became apparent that Kristy had no desire for a nightcap.

Alexi turned away toward the dresser only a minute at most to pour their drinks, and by the time she had pivoted back around, a drink in each hand, Kristy had shed her coat and boots and was comfortably supine on the bed, dressed only in a sheer black thong teddy.

Alexi let her gaze slowly travel the length of Kristy’s lithe frame, up her endless legs, lingering on the patch of fair hair beneath the sheer mesh before continuing on to the small pert breasts, barely a handful each but perfectly proportioned and visibly eager for her touch.

Kristy put a finger to her lips, promising quiet, before she crooked the same finger provocatively in Alexi’s direction, beckoning her forward.

Alexi set the glasses back on the dresser and began unbuttoning her blouse as she crossed to the bed. Kristy watched appreciatively as she opened her crisp white shirt, revealing the lacy bra beneath.

“Lovely.” Kristy licked her lips. “Take your time.”

Alexi was never one to deny a beautiful woman in such a situation, so she complied without argument, feeling a strange and unexpected sense of relief to get a moment of hesitation before their imminent coupling.

This didn’t feel as it should. As she expected it to. As it always was for her with a woman. This was the moment she began to lose herself in the act, surrendering her mind to her body. Caught up entirely in the exquisite feel of a beautiful, soft body beneath her mouth and hands, writhing and responding to her touch, heightening her own excitement to a fevered pitch, until she was delivered from the torture of unbearable need.

And her particular need tonight was unlike any state of arousal she had ever known. It was a need borne of days and days of denial and extreme self-restraint, of too much self-control and fruitless efforts to remedy the situation by touching herself. It was a need so great it pulsed within her and pushed at her relentlessly.

But even as she slowly stripped off her top, then reached between her breasts to unfasten the clasp of her bra, she wondered whether, for the first time, it mattered whose body was beneath her.

“God, you are so beautiful, Alexi,” Kristy whispered. Her pupils were dark and her face was flushed. She sat up and reached for the clasp of Alexi’s trousers. “Come here. I love to do this part myself.”

Blayne stared at the ceiling of her bedroom, wondering how the hell she could feel so wide-awake. She’d had a nap on the plane, but it was only three or four hours at most, and in the sixteen hours or so since then they had been on the move, non-stop.

When Alexi had retired for the evening, Blayne had remained where she was for a full ten minutes at least. Stewing. Steaming. Furious at being left aroused and unfulfilled yet again. Then she had given up and gone to her room, not at all enthused about further efforts to alleviate her restless energy with masturbation.

God. Why do I let her do this to me every single fucking time? And why does it bother me that she doesn’t give in? It’s not like I’ve never been turned down before.

But it did bother her. A lot. Perhaps, she considered, because she wanted Alexi more than she had wanted anyone in a very long time. And perhaps too because she felt certain that Alexi craved this as much as she did. All it would take was the right set of circumstances and they could move beyond the dynamic that was holding them back. Blayne was not going to be on the run forever. Alexi would not by guarding her for more then a few months. They could look ahead. Blayne wanted to break through to her enough to show her it was possible.

After another half-hour of tossing and turning, she went to the window and looked out. The lights of a lively pub beckoned from down the block. I’ll tell her I can’t sleep and talk her into a nightcap. She wouldn’t want me to go alone. Her mind made up, she reached once more for her cocktail dress. She’d make sure to sit so Alexi couldn’t avoid looking at her cleavage.

I just have to find a way to make sure she can’t resist me this time.

After dressing quickly, she crept out into the living room and crossed to Alexi’s door. She was fully expecting the room to be dark, and Alexi to be sound asleep, so it took her a minute, when she let herself quietly into the room, to realize that she was seeing what she thought she was seeing by the soft subdued light of a single floor lamp.

The bed had been turned down, the sheets and blankets were in tangles, and in the middle of them was Alexi, lying face down and nude, her gorgeous ass–the object of many of Blayne’s imaginings—rising and falling in a rhythm as familiar as time.

Blayne let go of the doorknob and the door clicked shut, and the sound was loud. Loud enough that Alexi’s head swiveled to investigate. It was only then that Blayne saw the beautiful blonde woman lying beneath Alexi, head thrown back in abandon, her body moving in counterpoint to the sway of Alexi’s hips.

Alexi froze, disbelief replacing the hazy look of desire and arousal on her face.

Blayne felt as though she’d been slapped. In the long seconds that followed, she memorized every detail of that wretched tableau, and suddenly it all made sense. No wonder she didn’t want me. The woman Alexi was fucking was tall and thin and beautiful and blonde, and nothing at all like her. If that’s what turns her on, I haven’t a chance. And never had. I could throw myself at her for the next ten years and it wouldn’t matter.

She felt like a fool. A frustrated, silly fool. Her bruised ego demanded satisfaction—some semblance of justice. Her Irish temper flared red-hot and her hands clenched into fists. “So I see there indeed is something…some one…who can get your mind on fucking and off of protecting me.”

“Blayne… I… I…” Alexi was breathing hard, and so was the blonde.

“So sorry to interrupt,” Blayne told the stranger beneath Alexi, her voice laden with sarcasm. “But I’m sure you’ll still get paid handsomely.”

“Well that’s quite uncalled for,” Kristy responded. “Alexi, will you please tell this woman--”

“Kristy,” Alexi cut her off. “I am sorry for this.” She shifted her body off of the model, and covered her as she did so with a sheet. Then she reached for her robe, which had been thrown over a chair, and put it on. “I am afraid I must beg your indulgence and ask you to leave.”

“Don’t bother on my account,” Blayne spat angrily. “I’m sure that if someone broke in and put a gun to my head tonight you’d jump right up off of her and be Johnny-on-the-spot, no problem.”

Alexi froze and her face became stone. They glared at each other, Kristy all but forgotten until she spoke.

“Well there is obviously some drama going on here that I don’t wish to be a part of.” She slipped out of bed and donned her coat and boots as Blayne and Alexi continued to stare at each other, Blayne seething with anger and Alexi’s face a mask. “Work it out, ladies.” She crossed to Alexi and kissed her soundly on the mouth. “You have my number. I’ll let myself out.”

“Sorry to spoil your fun.” Blayne folded her arms angrily over her chest after Kristy had departed. “But I guess I see now why you had no interest in any of my efforts to get you into bed. Why didn’t you just tell me I’m not your type? Why let me keep making a fucking fool of myself? Or does that do it for you?”

“Whether you are my type or not is irrelevant. What are you doing in my room?” Alexi leaned against the bedpost, hands in the pockets of her robe. It took every ounce of self-control not to show what she was feeling, which was an overwhelming riot of anger, embarrassment, frustration, and arousal. Her hands were trembling, but outwardly she appeared the picture of cool nonchalance.

“I…I…” Blayne sputtered, throwing her hands up in the air. “I can’t believe you’re going to act all indignant! You’re supposed to be protecting me! Not fucking some whore in the next room!”

“Keep your voice down. My guest was a friend, and you were extremely rude to her. And I have not for an instant shirked my responsibilities. It is you who forgot your place and came in uninvited.”

“I walked in because I couldn’t sleep. And I thought you’d rather I not go out alone.” Blayne began to pace as she talked, from door to window and back again, giving Alexi and the bed a wide berth. “But I can see you don’t give a shit one way or the other really. It’s all just a fucking job to you, and that’s all it’s ever been.”

“I have told you from the beginning that I am here to protect you, and that has to be the entirety of our association,” Alexi said calmly. “That you chose to believe otherwise was your fault, not mine.”

Blayne diverted from the path she was wearing in the carpet and crossed to the bed, stopping two feet from Alexi. “Then why act at times as though you wanted more? I know you did.”

“I am as human as anyone.” Alexi shrugged. “A woman keeps throwing herself at me as you have done, it will make me sexually aroused, yes. So it should come as no surprise that I found it necessary to call a friend.”

“Someone obviously more to your liking than what was being offered to you. God, I was such a fool!” Blayne snorted in disgust. “Well don’t worry. I get the picture now. You won’t have to worry about me thinking twice about it, ever again.”

“I think it best for you to return to your own room now, Blayne.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Blayne crossed to the door and threw it open with such force it banged against the wall. “Think you can keep your pants on long enough to keep me alive?” she shot back over her shoulder but was gone without waiting for a reply.

Alexi slumped down onto the bed as soon as she was alone. Damn it. What a nightmare. She should be grateful that Blayne had finally gotten the message and would no longer be spending every waking moment trying to get her in bed. It would make her life a lot easier.

She slammed her fist hard against the mattress. But she wasn’t grateful. Or relieved. Or any of those things that she should be. For she had realized something quite unsettling in that moment before Blayne had interrupted them.

Kristy had been Kristy, unabashedly eager and willing to submit to whatever Alexi had in mind. Kristy had never failed to satisfy her thoroughly and completely, countless times and in countless ways. But as she’d moved atop the blonde model, all Alexi could think about was Blayne. The body she wanted wasn’t this one. For the first time in a very long time, her need for sex wasn’t about coming. It was about the person. She wanted to be touching Blayne. Only Blayne would do.

Ridiculous. Just fuck her, and you’ll feel better. You always feel better. She had closed her eyes as their bodies pressed together, and warm flesh met warm flesh. Unusual, for it was the look on a woman’s face as she came that usually got her most excited. That and her first touch of the wetness between a woman’s legs, the measure of her ability to excite and arouse. That part was never a disappointment, for she made them wait for that moment until they could wait no longer.

But she knew inherently that she had no chance of coming tonight unless she closed her eyes. And she prayed that Kristy would keep silent. For she needed to imagine it was Blayne’s body beneath hers, Blayne’s legs around her, Blayne’s mouth on her and…

She began to rock her hips. Blayne. This is what you want. This is what you need. She repeated it to herself with each pistoning of her pelvis, as she tried to imagine how Blayne would look in the throes of passion. But her body would accept no substitute, and she was just realizing that when the real Blayne had interrupted them.

She had hated seeing the look of hurt and disappointment on Blayne’s face as discovered them, and realization struck. It pained her terribly to have caused that look. But she was stung by Blayne’s remarks.

“I’m sure that if someone broke in and put a gun to my head tonight you’d jump right up off of her and be Johnny-on-the-spot, no problem.”

The words had cut deep because they had brought back every detail of that awful night that still haunted her. It was for the best that they would be distant from each other now, over this, she decided. She had hurt Blayne, and Blayne had hurt her back, and the damage could not be undone. Perhaps it would somehow make the unbearable more bearable. How could it feel any worse?

She took off her robe and slipped under the covers, knowing full well that sleep would be long elusive. She could smell sex in the air, and it made her body ache for Blayne.

Tomorrow they would be different with each other. She would be polite, and courteous, the only thing she could be. She had done nothing wrong, and had nothing to apologize for. And what about Blayne? She will keep you at arm’s length. As it should be. As it has to be. You will have the relationship you should have had all along. And that will help you keep her alive.

It all sounded well and good, but it made her unbelievably sad.

Blayne was so anxious to get out of the loathsome black dress that she tore it getting if off. Didn’t matter, as she never intended to wear it again. It would remind her too much of her foolish, misguided efforts to gain the attention of a guarded, emotionless playgirl. A woman who had not an ounce of compassion. Alexi had brought another woman into their suite after turning her down flat not an hour before.

Blayne was furious, and all the more so because she had allowed Alexi to make her feel less than enough. Never again, she vowed. Never again.

She allowed herself to cry so that she would be over and done with it. She didn’t want to try to understand why Alexi’s actions had hurt her so deeply and mattered much more than they probably should.

She tried to accept that it was not to be. She can have anyone she wants.

And she tried vainly to tell herself not to take it personally. You’re just not her type, and you can’t help that. If she’s that damn superficial, fuck her.