“Good.” He opened the passenger door and tossed his duffel on the seat. “Then we’re agreed that I don’t need your services.”
“We’re not agreed on that.” She waited until he met her eyes, then added, “The least you can do is let me give my sales pitch. It’s the job of G.W. Securities to think of things the client might overlook.”
He leaned a hip against the car door. “Such as?”
“Would you have thought to check for a bomb under your car?”
He narrowed his gaze. “No.”
She smiled. “I did. It’s part of the service.” She could tell from the look in his eyes that she might have scored a point, but the game wasn’t over.
“I know that the first note said, ‘six days and counting…’” she continued, “the second said five, but that could be a lie. Sociopaths aren’t known for their honesty.”
Silence.
“And you’re probably thinking it’s highly unlikely that someone could have traced your car to this particular parking space, but I got a friend of mine to run down your license plate. Then I simply drove through the garage until I located your car. If I was able to do that, so could someone else. They could easily have booby-trapped it.”
“Okay, you’ve made your point.” When he smiled at her, the effect rippled right down to her toes. Then he took the lapel of her jacket and rubbed it between his fingers. Her toes, the little traitors, curled.
“But you’ve obviously got better things to do tonight. From the looks of it, Gabe’s call pulled you away from something or someone special.”
She thought of the empty cheese and cracker plate, her disgruntled cat and the movie on the Hallmark Channel’s Countdown to Christmas and barely smothered a yawn. Instead, she tried a smile of her own. “Actually, it didn’t. I was having a quiet evening at home.”
His eyebrow quirked up. “You dress like this for a quiet evening at home?”
“I changed after Gabe called. I thought this was more appropriate for Pleasures. That is where you’re headed, isn’t it?”
His smile faded. “Gabe is overreacting.”
“He said you had a feeling.”
“I may be overreacting. It’s probably a crank.”
“Perhaps.” But in the three hours he’d sat in the Denver airport waiting for his plane, he hadn’t changed his mind about coming home, Cilla thought. “But you don’t think so. You don’t like the fact that they used the word pleasures in the note.”
Surprise flickered for a moment in his eyes. “No, I don’t like that.”
“Could be coincidence, but…”
“I don’t trust coincidence.”
“But you do trust your instincts.”
He let the silence stretch again, so she pushed her advantage. “Look, I know we have a history. And we made a deal. One night.” She waved a hand. “Let’s put all of that in a side bar for now. This is strictly a professional offer.”
He narrowed his eyes fractionally, and dammit, her toes curled again. For an instant, her mind flashed back to that moment in Denver when they’d first stepped into the hotel room and he’d pushed the door shut and put his hands on her. His eyes had narrowed then, too, and she recalled how they’d glinted in the darkness. Ignoring both the image and her traitorous toes, she ruthlessly focused.
“Gabe’s a friend of yours and he’s my boss. He asked me to make sure you got to Pleasures safely. As a favor. I’m not even here on G.W. Securities’ clock. But I am here as a private security agent. And I’m good at what I do. You can call Gabe and get a recommendation.”
He frowned. “I’m not questioning your abilities.”
“Then why don’t you think of my escorting you to your club as a way to set Gabe’s mind at ease?”
“You’ll follow me to Pleasures and that’s it.”
“Not exactly. The service G.W. Securities provides is more than door-to-door. I check out your apartment before you go in. Double-check the security system. And I get a chance to walk you through Pleasures on the way. I’ve never been there.”
He considered for a moment. “Sounds reasonable. I run the risk of sounding like a real prick if I say no.”
“Not exactly the way I’d phrase it, but you’ve got the gist.”
“You are good at this, aren’t you?”
She beamed a smile at him. “I’m the best. How about I follow you to your club?”
HE LIKED TO KEEP HIS ROOM dark. In his opinion, everything was way too bright during the holiday season, as evidenced by the amount of light pouring through the windows. On the screen of his laptop, he could see that Jonah Stone’s plane had landed—10:15.
The anger that he’d been keeping tightly leashed for the past three hours eased just a little. He didn’t like it at all when he had to adjust his plans. The plane should have landed three hours ago.
But Stone was finally here. It wasn’t too late to go forward with the scheme. It would be another forty-five minutes to an hour before Jonah Stone would reach Pleasures.
He took a cell phone from his desk and punched in a number. On the fourth ring, a raspy voice said, “Yeah?”
He relayed the information and gave the order. “Got that?”
“Consider it done.”
Turning off the cell, he laid it carefully on the desk. Then he rose, walked to the closet and took out his overcoat, a hat and a long scarf. He trusted the man in charge of the mission, but he would still be on the scene to make sure his orders were carried out.
Five more nights—that’s how long it would take to complete his mission. It was all planned out. And during those nights, Jonah Stone would pay for the life he’d taken.
Moving to the nightstand, he glanced down at the picture. It was framed in crystal, and a small flameless candle burned in front of it.
Elizabeth. Poor, innocent Elizabeth. She’d been the only person he’d ever loved. And he’d had to leave her. He had a calling. She’d understood. He’d known that she’d been fragile, but how could he have foreseen that in his absence, she would fall under the spell of a man who’d seduce her and then reject her and kill her?
Five nights from now, on the anniversary of her death, he would exact revenge.
After running one finger down the side of the frame, he put on his coat, the hat and the scarf. Then he walked to the door.
When one set up a plan, part of the pleasure was watching it come flawlessly to fruition.
4
“YOU’VE GOT A CLASSY PLACE here,” Cilla remarked as she joined Jonah at the rear of his car. He’d pulled into a private lot half a block down from Pleasures and spoken briefly with the attendant, who’d then waved her through.
“I like it,” he said, shifting his gaze to the three-story club on the corner across the street.
And well he should, Cilla decided as she studied it. The location was prime, right in the heart of the city, and the building was old with tall arched windows on two upper floors that recalled a different, more gilded age.
On the second floor, shadowy figures wove their way among tables lit with candles. Through the windows on the street level, she caught a glimpse of a crowded bar. Tiny white Christmas lights twinkled on the awning, a subtle salute to the season.
“I