SPY: His Mission. His Orders. His Promise. Page 3

  "Vegas is one of my favorite cities. The exhibition was coincidental to my visit."

  "I find that hard to believe."

  "Which?"

  "Vegas. You don't seem the gaudy lights and buffet type."

  "There are other attractions, most notably, what happens here, stays here."

  In spite of the circumstances Natalie giggled, but Oliver always had made her laugh.

  "You have a remarkably beautiful smile," he murmured, leaning in and touching her arm. "I believe I told you that once before, did I not?"

  As his fingertips kissed her skin and she stared into his mahogany eyes, she felt herself aching to lean against him, and yearning to be in his arms. Wishing he would whisk her away, she somehow summoned the resolve to continue their banter.

  "You did, a lifetime ago, and I said you had remarkably smooth charm."

  "I meant it then and I mean it now."

  "So did I."

  "I'm delighted to see you haven't lost your quick wit."

  "You bring it out in me."

  "I'll take that as a compliment."

  "Take it however you want."

  "I assume you're working for the owner of these amazing works of art, but are you on duty at the moment?"

  "I'm supposed to be mingling and answering questions."

  "You are. You're mingling with me, and I have many unanswered questions."

  "Speaking of questions, tell me, Oliver, what have you been up to? It's been a couple of years since we've seen each other."

  "The usual. Croquet at Buckingham Palace, playing polo with the Princes, dining at—"

  "You can stop now."

  "Am I boring you?"

  "Yes."

  "We can't have that. Do you think you'd be able to slip away for a bit? Perhaps we could go somewhere for a quiet drink and catch up properly."

  "I should probably stay here."

  "Excellent. I know a ridiculously expensive, intimate little bar away from the strip. It's the perfect place to get reacquainted."

  "I said—"

  "I heard you loud and clear," he replied, cutting her off as he took her hand and looped it through his elbow, "and you didn't say no."

  Not sure how her legs were supporting her, she let him lead her across the room, but she quickly realized he was taking her to an emergency exit.

  "Oliver, we should leave through the main doors."

  "Are you worried about Victor?" he whispered. "Don't be. I'm sure he has people watching you. They'll report back, and they'll undoubtedly follow us."

  "I have to text him. I have to let him know where I am."

  "Then you shall," he said reassuringly, pushing down the bar and opening the door.

  As she stepped into the cool night air she instinctively leaned against his arm, and quickly removing his jacket he placed it around her shoulders.

  "Thanks, Oliver."

  "I can't have you catching a cold on my watch," he said warmly. "My car's over here."

  Looking across the narrow alley she saw a sleek black sports car, and as they approached she spied the familiar rearing horse.

  "A Ferrari. Nice."

  "It gets me around."

  "Isn't this the GTC4 Lusso T."

  "I'm impressed."

  "So am I. Rented?"

  "No."

  "Seriously? Wow. Weren't you worried it would get towed or stolen out here?"

  "Nope. Thanks, Manny."

  A beefy young man stepped from the shadows, but as Oliver handed him a hundred dollar bill she heard a noise behind her, and turning around she saw two of Victor's men stepping into the alley.

  "Oliver…"

  "It's time to leave," he replied, opening the car door and gesturing for her to climb inside.

  Slipping into the passenger seat she opened her evening bag to pull out her phone, and as Oliver climbed behind the wheel and started up the powerful engine, she sent Victor the obligatory text.

  Going for a drink. Will keep you posted.

  His response was immediate.

  Good.

  "Is everything okay?"

  "Apparently," she replied, dropping her phone back into her purse.

  "Thank you, Natalie."

  "For what?"

  "Dropping your guard."

  "What makes you think I've dropped my guard?"

  "Natalie…"

  "Actually, Oliver, I don't know how I feel, but I know why I'm in this car."

  "Because you find me irresistible?"

  "No, because Victor ordered it."

  "Natalie, don't you see how absurd that is?"

  "Uh, no. Why is it absurd?"

  "Victor knows exactly why I'm here, so why has he insisted you spend time with me to find out?"

  "Really?"

  "Of course."

  "That's a bit worrying. Do you have any idea?"

  "I believe that question has just been answered," he replied, glancing in his rearview mirror. "We have company."

  Shifting in her seat she stared through the narrow back window. A pair of headlights were closing in.

  "Why are you surprised?" she asked. "I expected him to have me followed."

  "I suspect they want to do more than just follow us. They're gaining fast."

  "Maybe it's not Victor's men. Maybe it's just someone in a hurry."

  "Shall we test your theory?"

  "How?"

  "I think I'll pull over. Maybe a chat is in order."

  CHAPTER THREE

  As Oliver abruptly stopped at the side of the road, Natalie stared at him completely aghast.

  "This is a really bad idea! We don't know who it is! Maybe I was wrong about—"

  "I know exactly who it is and what they want," he declared, pressing a button on his steering wheel.

  A muffled clanging filled the cockpit, and jumping in her seat, she spun around and stared at him.

  "What the hell was that?"

  "A precaution," he replied with a smile, "and look! It's your friendly motorist in a hurry," he continued, turning his head to look out his window. "Wave, Natalie."

  The ominous car had pulled alongside, and looking past him she found herself staring at an angry male face taking aim with his revolver.

  "Oliver, do something!"

  "What would you suggest?"

  "Drive!"

  "Not yet."

  "BUT—"

  Her cry of fear was cut off by the sound of bullets hitting the car. Letting out a wail of fright, she threw down her head, covering it with her arms, and though the sounds of gunshots continued to ring in her ears there was no shattering of glass.

  "Our turn," Oliver said airily. "You might want to watch this."

  Wide-eyed and shaking she peered up at him in time to see him push a flashing red knob on the dashboard, and cautiously straightening up she watched a plume of yellow smoke envelope the car beside them. The shooter had his window down, and within seconds he'd dropped his gun and was grabbing his throat.

  "That's the answer to the question," Oliver said calmly as he pressed a button on his steering wheel. "Victor wanted us together so he could deal with us at the same time."

  "What? But why would he want to kill me?" she asked, vaguely aware of the same strange muffled clanging she'd heard a few minutes earlier.

  "Your usefulness has come to an end. He only hired you to pull me in. Now you need to take off your jewelry and clothes and toss them."

  "Excuse me?"

  "You heard me," he said, driving on to the road and accelerating at a fast clip.

  "I will not."

  "Natalie, anything you're wearing or carrying could be infected with a tracker."

  "SHIT."

  "Everything goes. Start with the bag."

  "It's a Judith Leiber Couture."

  "I don't care if it's covered in diamonds, toss it, and everything else."

  "So I'm going to be sitting here naked?"

  "Pretty much."

  "SHIT."

  "Stop
saying that and strip, unless you'd like a repeat of what happened at the cabin."

  "Goddammit," she muttered as she removed her earrings. "Do you have any idea how much this stuff cost?"

  "Earrings, bracelet, Hublot watch, about twenty-grand, the dress, Givenchy if I'm not mistaken, twelve-grand. How am I doing so far?"

  "Not bad," she grunted, "and something about that is disturbing."

  "Shoes! I'm guessing Christian Louboutin, fifteen-hundred, the bag, five grand…"

  "You can stop now. Dammit, I can't undo this button on my collar."

  "Turn around."

  "You're driving."

  "And your point is?"

  "You need two hands on the wheel and two hands to unfasten it. You may be the smartest spy on the planet and think you're James Bond but you don't have four hands."

  "Number one, I never said I'm a spy. Number two, I'm far from the smartest anything on the planet, and if I thought I was anyone other than who I am, I'd be locked away. Last but not least, I may not have four hands but I have a self-driving car. Turn around."

  "Self-driving?"

  "Turn around."

  He released the wheel, and as the car slowed, she shifted in her seat and held up her hair.

  "That's the only problem," he muttered as he began to unfasten the collar snaps. "The blasted thing insists on going the speed limit. There you are. Unhooked. I must say, it was lovely to see your bare back in this dress as you graced the exhibition. It's worthy of showing off."

  "You're impossible."

  "Thank you," he said with a grin, and returning his hands to the wheel, he pressed his foot down on the accelerator. "Start tossing."

  Sliding out of her dress, she lowered her window and threw out her designer gown, following suit with her shoes and jewelry.

  "Happy now?"

  "Much better," he said with a wicked grin. "Your birthday suit has far more to offer than anything Givenchy could come up with, but you're still wearing your thong."

  "How the hell could he have attached a fucking tracker on a thong?"

  "They can be awfully small. Take it off."

  "You're joking!"

  "Am I laughing?"

  "OLIVER!"

  "I'm not taking any chances. Either they go or you'll be on the side of the road thumbing. That would give the natives a thrill."

  "You wouldn't!"

  "If my life depends on it, you bet I would," he said solemnly, then shooting her a stern glance he added, "Off! Now!"

  "SHIT!"

  "Say that one more time and I won't be happy."

  "Why do you care?"

  "It's getting old. Why don't you say something like, I don't know, knickers?"

  "Knickers?" she repeated, staring at him as she slid her thong down her legs and threw it out the window. "Of course you'd come up with that, and don't tell me the nipple covers have to go."

  "The nipple covers have to go, and don't swear."

  "Or what? You'll spank me?"

  "The minute we walk in the door. Take them off."

  "Dammit," she mumbled, and peeling them away she dropped them out the window. "Satisfied?"

  "Immensely."

  "I'm freezing."

  "You have my jacket. Put that around you."

  It was lying at her feet, and reaching down she picked it up and quickly slipped it on.

  "That is unbelievably sexy," he said, staring across at her.

  "Would you please turn the heater up?" she pleaded, ignoring his comment and wishing it hadn't sent her butterflies fluttering. "I'm turning into an ice-cube."

  "Sure, and I'll even heat up your seat. It'll make your naked backside hotter than the last time you were over my knee."

  "You have a one-track mind," she grunted, cursing the unexpected warm flood between her legs.

  "How could I possibly have a one-track mind when you have so many delectable charms?"

  "Then why do you keep talking about spanking me?"

  "Because I've never met a woman who needs it quite like you do."

  "Why did I open that door?"

  "I'm just lucky, I suppose."

  "Oliver?"

  "Yes, Natalie?"

  "What was that clanging sound I heard earlier?"

  "Before we were shot at?"

  "And right after."

  "Bullet-proof tire covers."

  "That's brilliant!"

  "I agree. I can't tell you the number of times they've come in handy, and looking back, the number times they would have been extremely helpful."

  "And the smoke?"

  "Just a knock-out gas. They'll wake up in a few hours with one hell of a hangover."

  "So, uh, this car, does it travel with you?"

  "It's a she, and yes she does."

  "Shit. That's amazing."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Fine. Knickers, that's amazing."

  "Much better."

  "Is your house much further?"

  "Nope, just around the next corner."

  "This is some neighborhood," she remarked, gazing at the mansions, their expensive landscaping lit up by colored lights.

  "Celebrityville. Very safe. Guards everywhere, and Fanny feels at home."

  "Fanny? Who's Fanny?"

  "My car. Fanny the Ferrari."

  "Of course it is," she quipped, rolling her eyes. "I should have guessed."

  "She's relatively new. I've only had her six months."

  "Did you have a name for the Ferrari Spider you had when we were together?"

  "Didn't I tell you?"

  "No."

  "Really? How neglectful of me. Her name was Sphynx."

  "Because?"

  "Ever see the Sphinx cat? Very exotic. She was an exotic pussy."

  "Good grief."

  "Hmmm, yes, probably a bit tasteless. I much prefer Fanny."

  "This seat really is heating up."

  "Does it feel good?"

  "Honestly? Yes, very."

  "Here we are," he declared, rolling up to a pair of exceedingly tall wrought-iron gates.

  As they swung open she could see an ultra-contemporary home with walls of reflective glass that gave them the appearance of gigantic mirrors, and as they moved up the driveway she was surprised a second time. The house was surrounded by water.

  "That's one hell of a swimming pool."

  "It's actually a modern-day moat. When I drive over that bridge into the garage, if I wanted it to, I could push a button and it would swing apart. The bridge I mean, not the garage."

  "How do people come to the front door?"

  "The path to the door is the same. It's under water right now."

  "This is ridiculous. Don't people think it's a bit strange?"

  "What people? I don't have visitors, and you saw those houses. This is a neighborhood of excesses. Every room on the ground floor of this home has access to the pool. That's what people see when they look at it. They're probably wondering how they can do it themselves, but for me it's all about security."

  "Don't you mean us?"

  "Us?" he repeated. "I assure you there's no-one else in this house."

  "Please, Oliver, stop treating me like an idiot. This house is owned by the British government and you work for MI5 or MI6."

  "I'm not—"

  "Stop lying to me."

  "Has it occurred to you that maybe I'm telling you the truth? Think about it."

  Think about it.

  His words echoed through her head. Naked but for his jacket, her bottom growing toasty against the heated seat, as she held his gaze all she could think about was how she'd once felt lying in his arms, his lips against hers, the touch of his fingers on her skin…

  "Natalie? Anyone home?"

  "What?"

  "You went somewhere."

  "I was following your instruction. I was thinking."

  A half-smile curled the edges of his lips, then abruptly turning he climbed out. As he moved around the front of the car she took a deep breath. This wa
s the last place she'd expected to be, but as he opened her door and offered his hand she felt a wave of relief. Regardless of what was to come she was finally free of Victor Pichencko.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  In Natalie's suite Victor was angrily staring at the items littering the coffee table. Her gown, jewelry, her bag and its contents were on display, and the two men who had discovered them were standing nervously nearby.

  "I don't fucking believe this. How difficult is it to shoot two people in a car?"

  "I wasn't there boss," one of the men said. "Sergei and Boris are still out cold. They'll be able to—"

  "Excuses!" Victor snapped. "That's what they'll have. FUCKING EXCUSES! I want eyes everywhere. Get posters made, pin them all around town."

  "Of her?"

  "OF COURSE OF HER!"

  "What about the guy she was with?"

  "No, just her! Once I have her, he'll come running. It was a Ferrari, right? A Spider?"

  "A black Ferrari. I don't know the model."

  "It'll be that Spider. Fucking guy still has the same car he had two years ago," Victor muttered as he pulled out his phone and placed a call.

  "Officer Parks speaking."

  "It's Victor. I have a runaway. I'll text you her picture. I want her brought to me, but I don't want a hair on her head touched, understand?"

  "Hi, Victor, uh, yeah, sure. Any idea where she might be?"

  "No. You also need to put out an APB on a black Ferrari Spider. I don't have the plates but I doubt there'll be many in this town. Don't pull it over, just tail it and when it stops someplace let me know."

  "You got it."

  Ending the call Victor walked across to the windows and stared out at the city. He'd underestimated Barton. He wouldn't make the same mistake again.

  "Boss?"

  "What did you find?" he asked, turning around to face Andy Petrov, his young nephew and tech genius.

  "All the bugs and spyware that were in this suite are gone."

  "WHAT?"

  "I checked them right before the exhibition opened. Everything was working."

  "Didn't you notice the cameras were down?"

  "They weren't. They showed the empty suite. I knew Natalie was downstairs at the event with you."

  "FUCK! I thought these things were state of the art."

  "They are, but if you know how to mess with them…"