The balcony was lined with doors, each covered with yards of the hideous green damask. Each door led to a small room, outfitted with a vaporizer bar that included ice water for those less adventurous, a chaise, and a two-way window, so occupants could watch the frenzy on the dance floor below, yet still get it on by themselves.
Dimitri slashed a green card through the lock and invited Becca inside. He didn’t wait for Dane; neither did she.
“You like verte?” Dimitri called to Becca as he went to the dry bar and cracked open an ampoule of absinthe to insert into the portable oxygen tank.
“We both do.” She drew a finger from Dane’s shoulder to his elbow, feeling tension in his pulsing muscles even through the tux.
Get into the act, she wanted to yell at him.
Dane accepted a draw of absinthe-laced oxygen from Dimitri. He winced at the initial hit.
The thujone contained within the absinthe was an active ingredient found in marijuana. A fast hit would go right to the brain and have a person trancing in no time. Becca guessed the dosage had been increased. Dane probably got a good hit.
Dimitri clapped Dane on the shoulder. He had to shout because the music was piped into the room from speakers in every corner. “You like to watch?”
Dane made a “cheers” gesture and handed the vaporizer back to Dimitri, who offered it to Becca, but she refused.
“You said you liked?” Dimitri, mocking a pout at her refusal, set the vaporizer aside, then pulled her to him. “We will have a show then? You and I, is good?”
Dimitri’s breath smelled of the anise contained in the absinthe. Becca liked the sweet flavor and pushed her mouth to his, mining the lingering taste of the tantalizing alcoholic fumes. It was a sneaky way to snatch the buzz without endangering her morals. She didn’t do illicit substances.
Dimitri smelled of all things forbidden. He felt rough, from the stubble on his jaw to the firm palm he pressed against her spine. Every part of him was hard, demanding and dangerous.
Over his crop of dark curls she spied Dane. He signaled with his hand, pointing to her, digging into his pocket and then wiggling two fingers.
Right. The diamond.
Shimmying to the beat, Becca lifted her arms high in Dimitri’s grasp. She lowered a hand in the shape of a gun and shot at Dane well out of Dimitri’s line of sight. Bull’s-eye. Blowing away the imaginary smoke, she winked and gave him a thumbs-up.
Dane reciprocated, but his aim was definitely targeted toward Dimitri.
“I like sexy American women,” Dimitri announced eagerly. “What is your name?”
“Becky,” she said, laughing loudly at Dane’s reaction to her choice of moniker.
Dimitri released her, bussing her chin with a kiss, then bounced with the beat over to the bar to take another long hit.
When he offered Dane the vaporizer a second time, Becca intervened. She glided in front of Dimitri, distracting his attention. Music crept under the thin silk dress and invaded her pores. It felt natural to dance. With his dark eyes eating her every move, she slid into Dimitri’s strong, muscular arms. His mouth tripped along her neck. With every beat of the heavy, trance-inducing music, Dimitri pumped his cock against her groin. Nice and hard. He was primed.
The two of them moved as one, taking, stealing the rhythm from one another. Only the beat.
Repetitive.
Intoxicating.
A girl could close her eyes and lose herself in a moment like this. A strong man intent on giving and taking pleasure. And another man who couldn’t remove his steely aquamarine eyes from her.
And everything that could destroy her upper-crust status.
Tilting back her head, Becca slid down to squat before Dimitri.
Dimitri reached to the bar to grab the vaporizer and suck in another long inhalation. Eyes closed and mouth shut tight, he held the fumes in his lungs, until a mischievous smile curved his mouth.
He moaned as Becca ran her palms up his thighs, rising, bracketing his hard-on through his clothes.
“American women know what men want,” he growled, and glanced over his shoulder to grin at Dane.
Becca caught a glimpse of her audience. Arms crossed over his chest. Jaw set. Dane averted his gaze to the madness on the dance floor. Because he didn’t want to watch her madness?
Come on, Dane, see me.
She was playing. Pushing the edge. Living the lie.
It’s not a lie. This is you. You know it is.
So why did that thought disturb her so much?
Sliding her hands up the aubergine silk, Becca rose. Grinding her hips from side to side, she rocked them against Dimitri’s erection. He reached for his fly, but she stopped him, her fingernails tapping the solid core of him.
“Let’s play awhile,” she mouthed, knowing he couldn’t hear her. But he understood.
The beat changed and she gyrated for him and unbuttoned his shirt. Hard abs and pecs. Faint curls of dark hair around each nipple and a promising bit disappearing into his pants. He worked out. Likely, he knew how to fight. But despite his size, she could hold her own. She favored Shen Ku, an ancient form of Chinese street fighting.
Becca couldn’t resist. And why should she? She pressed her mouth to Dimitri’s flesh and licked a trail from his neck to one nipple and then the other. His moan spurred her on. Spinning about, she raised her arms and wiggled her derriere into his groin.
She was face-to-face with Dane, only a few feet away.
With his head lowered, his eyes focused directly on hers, he communicated some form of silent criticism.
Too bad the music was so loud. And she was working.
Closing her eyes, Becca followed Dimitri’s roaming hands with her own. His fingers were long and smooth. Obviously hadn’t worked a day of manual labor in his life. But what did he do?
“You look so familiar,” she called, fighting the music’s volume, and spinning to face Dimitri. “Have I seen you before?
“Do you come here many times?”
“My first. You’ve such a remarkable face.” She caressed his cheek. The rough stubble tickled her wrist; his goatee was thick and smooth. “Almost like…royalty.”
He winced.
That verified her suspicions. She had seen this man before.
But if she had seen him, then he—
“I don’t like all this talk,” Dimitri said with a bored sneer. “Do you want to talk or do you want to fuck?”
Neither.
“Oh, I do.” She ran her hand down the front of his pants. “Oh! So hard.”
“You want to see?”
“What’s in your pocket?”
“Not my pocket, pretty one.”
Smooth and searching hands glided over her cleavage.
She glanced at Dane. Watch me, she thought. Feel this, you British tease.
“So hot,” Dimitri groaned. He skated a hand beneath the black silk and cupped her breast. “Is good. We will all fuck. Yes?” he called to Dane.
Becca coaxed up her dress. “Slow, baby,” she cooed into Dimitri’s ear. “We’ve got all the time in the world! Loverboy over there likes it that way,” she declared boldly so Dane could hear. “Right, lover?”
Dane poked his chest with his thumb. “Slow? Oh yeah…” He worked hard to summon the words and spit them out. “’Cause that’s the way I like it.”
Becca shot him daggers. Dane was more strung than a Tyburn dangler.
Why did men always have to be the ones in charge? If the reins of control slipped from their greedy fingers, they always started pouting. Stiff, not at all relaxed, utterly pissed. Little boys in need of a time-out.
Hell, this wasn’t working. And if Dimitri went any further, she’d have to stick around for the fireworks. Becca never crossed that line.
“Baby, I think I need something to drink.”
“Take a hit,” Dimitri cooed. “Loosen up, sexy woman.”
Loosen up? What the hell did he think she was doing? “Just some water, please. My mouth is so dry,” she exclaimed.
Dimitri reluctantly pulled away with a helpless blink.
“Pretty please?” She landed on the chaise with a kick of her leg, and stretched her arms across the plush damask.
Dimitri obliged and went to pour water into one of the glass tumblers kept in a drawer of the dry bar.
While he did so, Dane moved in, kneeling on the chaise over her. He swept Becca’s hair back with a glide of his hand and a possessive tug. She wrapped her legs around his and toppled him forward.
Knees straddling her thighs, he whispered in her ear, “Are you finished playing games, New York?”
“Why? Can’t take the heat?”
“It’s not mere heat you’re playing with, love. This bastard is fire.”
The tinkle of ice cubes sounded near Becca’s ear. She reached for the tumbler and pushed against the aggressive male in her space. Dane sprang upright.
Dimitri smiled and smoothed his hand over Dane’s ass. “We can do a threesome. Is good?”
Dane stepped back and raised his hands. “I just like to watch, buddy.”
“Buddy?” Dimitri looked to her, then back to Dane. “Do you not like? You let me touch your woman, but you are so angry.”
“You’d better believe it. She’s not yours—”
Dimitri curved a fist into his palm.
Dane reacted in kind.
Two bulls snorted in the middle of the ring.
Becca swept up her tumbler, delivering the heavy weighted bottom directly to Dimitri’s jaw. Underneath, where a direct hit should knock out his lights.
A splatter of spit and ice misted her face. Arms flailing, Dimitri dropped like a boulder onto the chaise.
There were two bulges in Dimitri’s pants. Becca reached for the one she was interested in. The velvet pouch fitted into her palm. Drawing it out, she turned and stood and found herself in Dane’s arms.
Flashing green light flickered across his tense jaw. “You know you frustrate me, love?”
“Nothing a million dollar rock can’t cure, eh?”
“You forget that the exchange rate sucks.” He angrily snatched the pouch. “Come on, let’s get the hell out of Dodge before he wakes.”
“We can’t leave. Call in reinforcements for an arrest.”
“I will.”
Gripping the earring she still wore, Becca snapped a shot of the sprawled pseudo-Turk.
Dane waited in the doorway. “What are you doing?” He tossed the pouch once and caught it. “This is all we came for.” He slipped down the hallway. “Come on!”
Becca started to follow him, but slapped her palm against the door frame. Dane was in a hurry. He didn’t even turn to see if she followed.
She frowned. Should they leave this guy? Was he the high man on the ladder? And what about Pink? Dimitri could answer questions. They needed to interrogate him. Call in backup for an arrest. The CIA would want him in hand.
Why was Dane so eager to leave when, for all purposes, the job was only half-done?
A burning coiled in Becca’s gut, making it almost impossible to take a step forward. Something wasn’t right.
Dane and his need-to-know bullshit. Well, she’d show him all he needed to know. Starting with the heel of her Manolos.
She was just dashing out the doorway when she was suddenly grabbed from behind.
Lifted from the floor and flung across the room, she landed on the chaise, heels pointing to the ceiling. Her jaw clacked and she almost bit her tongue.
“Who are you?”
The plush cushions made righting herself a struggle. She wasn’t able to get to her feet before Dimitri pounced, caging her thighs with his knees.
He grabbed her around the throat, choking her. “Bitch! Your lover steal the prize and leave? Not good for you.”
A toe to his thigh did little more than aggravate. Dimitri sneered. Spittle sprayed her face.
Choking and gagging, she dragged her fingernails down the underside of his wrist, and he momentarily released her.
Pulling the thin gold choker from around her neck, Becca manipulated the heart charm to fit between her first two fingers. A wicked slash drew a red line across Dimitri’s forehead with the sharpened tip.
He jumped back, clutching his forehead. Checked his fingers.
“Yes, asshole, it’s called blood.”
Becca sprang to her feet, gave a moment’s thought to where the hell Dane had disappeared to, then lifted her foot and, turning on the ball of her opposite foot, drilled her heel into Dimitri’s groin. She felt resistance as the metal spike pierced the aubergine fabric.
Dimitri went down with little more than a squeak. Blood spotted his trousers.
Gasping out a breath, Becca replaced her choker and tugged down her skirt. It had torn, breaking the zipper and exposing her thigh to her hip.
“This is couture!”
Gripping the slashed fabric, she stepped over Dimitri, then scanned the balcony to see if anyone had been alerted by the debacle. Zombie-eyed revelers danced below.
Moving swiftly, she descended to the main floor.
Dane waited at the bottom of the stairs.
“Derzhi vora!” Stop the thief.
Becca didn’t turn around. Remarkably, Dimitri had risen.
Dane grasped her hand and they ran toward the entrance door of the club.
“Taking a Sunday stroll, love? What happened to you—”
“I’ve been busy trying to keep up with my partner, who left me behind,” she snapped.
“I thought you were right— Sod me, it’s too loud!”
They reached the street and ran down the block toward the distant glimmer of a traffic light. Chill air swept down Becca’s aching throat. Her gasps turned to coughs. Stalking up behind Dane, she gripped him by the shoulder and spun him about.
He summoned a protest, but her fist beat him to it. Head snapping back from the impact, Dane recovered from her punch by rubbing his palm over his jaw. “What the sodding hell?”
“We should have waited for backup.”
Becca spied a taxi half a block down. She flagged it. Headlights flashed in confirmation.
Turning abruptly, she wrapped her hand around Dane’s neck and slammed him against the brick wall of a garden enclosure. “Until you can get over your need-to-know attitude, I don’t need you, asshole.”
The cab stopped with a screech. Becca slipped into the back seat and slammed the door. “Place Vendôme,” she told the cabbie.
As they pulled from the curb she spied Dimitri’s thugs barreling down the sidewalk toward Dane. He hadn’t noticed them, so stunned he was that she’d left him.
But he now held the diamond. Fuck.
“Back up,” she directed the cabbie.
Seconds before Dane got trampled by thugs, she opened the back door and he dived inside the cab. Dimitri’s men pounded the trunk as the cab peeled off again.
Dane pulled himself upright in the seat. With a jut of his chin, he regained his composure but kept his distance. “Why’d you come back? I thought I was an arsehole?”
“You are.” She patted down his jacket. A flick of her wrist produced the velvet pouch. “But you’re an arse-hole with a priceless jewel.”
When they returned to the room, Dane picked over the mackerel toast. The thin slices of fish had begun to dry and turn gray around the edges.
Tossing the velvet pouch to the bed, Becca then powered up her laptop and sent Zeek the photo she’d snapped of Dimitri. Then she began an online search designed to keep her from strangling Dane with her bare hands. She decided to cool down, let her anger dissipate, before approaching him about what had just happened.
Hell, she was tense. Her typing fingers moved stiffly. She felt betrayed on so many levels. A moment of peace was required.
But not until she relieved her curiosity about Dimitri. Where had she seen him before?
Thinking through the usual sources, she accessed the Internet and did a search for “Dimitri” and “Turkish” in the New York Times for the past few months. Nothing.
“What. The. Bloody—”
Becca spun toward the alcove. Dane stood at the end of one of the twin beds. The black velvet pouch dangled from his fingers, then dropped. She got up to inspect.
“Wow.” And that was all she could say.