Black Jack (11 page)

Replacing it in the desk, he turned and left the room, reactivating the security behind him.

Travis moved from the closet as Noah met him at the desk.

“Let me check this,” Noah hissed as he pulled the device free again. “This bastard will

screw with my electronics.”

“Why here rather than his room?” Travis mused, wondering why Macauley didn’t have the

device in a place he wouldn’t be caught using it.

“Security,” Noah stated. “Harrington obviously uses it. If it were found in his room, he’d

have to explain it. Besides, these puppies are damned hard to acquire.”

Noah attached it to another device he had with him.

“Can you bypass it?” Travis asked.

“Maybe,” Noah answered. “I’ll try, but it sounds to me like we’re not going to have a lot of

time here.”

“Then we better hurry,” Travis growled. “The next time, Lilly’s luck just might run out.”

And that he couldn’t allow to happen.

Travis simply couldn’t imagine his life without Lilly, which made her a very dangerous

weakness.

A weakness he knew he could ill-afford.

“Got it.” Noah quickly replaced the device, then stored his own in a pocket of his pants.

“Let’s roll.”

They left quickly and made their way back to Noah’s room. Travis left the house just as

dawn began to brighten the sky and he couldn’t help but stare up into Lilly’s window.

The lights were on and he had no doubt she was reading the report Harrington had received.

And she was alone.

There was no one to soften the shock or the blow being dealt to her. He wasn’t there to hold

her. He wasn’t there to make it easier.

No matter what the doctors said, he thought, Lilly would remember everything soon, and

when she did?

There would be hell to pay.

the next morning
Lilly lay in her bed, the hefty report

given to her the night before still lying beside her, the pages scattered haphazardly across the

bed.

She stared at the ceiling, dry-eyed, a frown pulling at her brow as she considered the

information she had been given.

First, she had been suspected of killing her father because she had disappeared.

And second, according to the investigator—a rather reputable one—Lilly had been a high

priced whore available only to certain clientele. Clientele requiring a well trained lover rather

than a helpless one. And she evidently hadn’t cared if the clients were legitimate businessmen,

or those considered highly illegal. Criminals, suspected terrorists, or international CEOs. She

had been hired out to the best of them.

Lilly had been trained in Israel, Pakistan, China, South America, and Mexico. The training

she had received, secretly, through MI5, before her supposed death, paled in comparison to

the eighteen-month course she had taken to become part of Santos Bahre and Rhiannon

McConnelly’s stable.

She and the three other girls she was known to work with were considered four of the most

elite whores in the world. Wow, she should be impressed with herself, she thought

sarcastically. She had gone from society princess to exclusive call girl. And she hadn’t

stopped there. Hell, no, when she wasn’t playing “eye candy” for whoever paid for her

services, then she was having fun causing trouble elsewhere. It was no damned wonder

someone had tried to kill her.

She had been in more than one hot spot in the world with Travis Caine, who seemed to

have required her services extensively. As a matter of fact, it seemed that outside of

“business” they were actual lovers as well. Lovers who caused trouble wherever they went. In

more than one instance, they had started fights that had nearly gotten them killed.

It sounded like she had had a hell of a lot of fun.

Except it just didn’t ring true.

There were pictures of her with Travis Caine as well as several other men. Men known for

their rather subversive criminal activities. Weapon sales, drug deals, terrorist negotiations, the

list went on and on. She and the three other girls were reputed to be not just highly

experienced sexually, but also rather enthusiastic when it came to creating or cleaning up the

messes their lovers were involved in.

The men whose identities had been included in the file seemed too familiar. Santos Bahre,

Travis Caine, Micah Sloane, John Vincent, and Nikolai Steele were the most familiar. There

was something about their pictures that pricked at her missing memories.

The pictures and the locations looked familiar. The pictures themselves appeared to have

been taken from security footage from hotels and restaurants. Those would have been easy

enough to come by. Once the investigator had a name, and a picture of her, he could have

tracked many of her movements, as well as her associations.

The pictures of the men in the file had her eyes narrowing, though.

These men she and the other three women seemed to have the most association with.

John Vincent was a “broker.” Though he often brokered legitimate deals, he was also

suspected to broker not so legitimate deals. Deals that often involved high-priced, top-secret

stolen arms or information.

Nikolai Steele was a suspected assassin. He’d been questioned many times in regards to

those activities, but there had never been enough proof to tie him to a kill. He also hired

himself out occasionally as a bodyguard and was known to work often with Travis Caine and

John Vincent.

Then, there was Travis. “The Facilitator,” he was called. He brought together products,

services, or clients. He facilitated major business deals, matching buyers, sellers, and brokers.

He was also suspected to do the same with less savory clients.

Each man had, more than once, required Lilly’s or one of the other girls’ services.

Somehow she couldn’t see the very possessive, very dominant Travis Caine standing idly

by while Lilly slept with his bodyguard.

Then, there were the women.

Nissa Farren, Raisa McTavish, and Shea Tamallen. She couldn’t rid herself of a feeling of

urgency where they were concerned. There was something she should know about them.

Something she was supposed to do, and she couldn’t pull the memory free.

That bothered her more than the fictional information that she had been nothing more than

a troublemaking whore. She knew better. She knew who she had been before she had

disappeared six years ago, and she would have never elected to take money for sex, especially

considering that she had been a virgin at her supposed death.

So then what was the truth?

For a while, she had entertained the thought of demanding explanations from Travis, but

something told her she didn’t want to do that. She felt a wariness about bringing her

suspicions to anyone, as though she knew instinctively that at the moment, she couldn’t trust

anyone.

Rising from the bed, Lilly pulled the file together, pushed it back into the large envelope,

then moved to the small safe in the wardrobe closet across the room. Locking the report safely

inside, she turned and moved to the bathroom.

The large mirror beside the three-head shower reflected her image back at her, a face she

still wasn’t certain of, eyes that were the wrong color. Her chin was slightly more pointed than

it had been, her eyes had less of a tilt than she remembered, her cheekbones were a little

flatter and her nose more rounded.

Why? That question wouldn’t leave her mind. Why had she gone to such extremes to hide?

And who had she been hiding from?

Or had she, as others supposedly suspected, killed her father and attempted to fake her own

death?

She had loved her father. She had adored him. It wasn’t possible that she had harmed him.

Just as it wasn’t possible that she could have been some high priced call girl with an

adrenaline addiction.

Then what the bloody hell was going on?

Stepping into the large cubicle, she quickly showered as she considered her options. It was

a very short list. Looked like Travis was her only choice.

Dressing quickly in a pair of cream-colored silk slacks and matching top, she pushed her

feet into stylish sandals and put the articles she needed from her bureau into a tan leather

purse. Slipping downstairs quickly, she headed to the narrow hall at the back of the house and

into the garage.

The electric-red Jaguar rented for her use was parked in its bay, the keys hanging in the

ignition.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, she hit the automatic garage door opener, waited for it to slide

open, then started the car and pulled out.

Her mother would go ballistic. No doubt Desmond had someone following her. The fact

that he did so bothered her. There was something different about the way she felt about him

now versus her feelings for him in the past.

He had been her beloved uncle. He had spoiled her all her life, but there was a distrust now

that she couldn’t seem to shake.

Actually, she seemed to distrust most people now.

She drove to the house Travis had taken her to the night before.

She was hurting. She felt as though her insides were being shredded by that report. As

though her soul were cringing in shame.

He was the last person she should run to . . .

But she needed the sense of security she had felt in his arms the night before. She needed

the mindless pleasure, a few stolen moments to forget that whatever or whoever she had been

for six years, that others had seen her as a whore.

Clenching her teeth, she turned into the driveway and pulled the car to a stop. As she turned

off the ignition, she wasn’t surprised to see Nik as he opened the front door and stepped onto

the wide stone porch.

Long white-blond hair was pulled back from his imposing features. Icy blue eyes stared at

her as a small smile tipped his lips. He just didn’t seem to be a man she would sleep with.

Familiarity gleamed in his eyes, though, as well as in his expression.

Tightening her fingers around her purse, she moved up the short walk to the house and

stepped onto the porch.

“Is he here?” she asked, her brow arching inquisitively.

“He’s been waiting for you for several hours.” Nik nodded. “I’m surprised you escaped

your uncle so easily, though.”

Lilly shrugged at the comment. “I didn’t try to escape, I merely walked out.”

And strangely, no one had seemed to notice. That was odd in and of itself. Since her return,

her mother had been waiting for her each morning when she came from her room. Some

mornings, she’d actually brought her breakfast in bed. This morning, though, the house had

seemed deserted.

“Come on in, Lilly.” Nik stepped back, his large, muscular body shifting with animal-like

grace as she stepped past him.

The front room he led her through was the modern, upscale room she had met Desmond in

the night before. Beyond that was another living room, just as cold and uninviting. The short

hall was warmer, with honey-toned wood floors and tall windows on one end. Turning into

another room, Lilly was pleased to see the décor change. This was an area she hadn’t seen the

night before.

This room was carpeted in a rich dark honey brown, the walls were a soft pale green, the

cherry furniture was polished to a warm hue with large cushiony chairs, a sofa and a couch,

arranged beneath a skylight.

“Nice,” she commented when Travis rose from the couch to greet her.

He was dressed in jeans and a loose white shirt. His feet were bare, his demeanor relaxed

though he seemed tired. He seemed more approachable than he had the night before, and he

had been very damned approachable then.

She tossed her purse on a table as she passed by it, strode across the room, and, much to her

own surprise, moved to him, lifted herself against him, and sealed her lips to his.

It was like a narcotic she had to have.

Immediately his arms went around her, his head tilting, his lips slanting over hers, as

sensual, sexual need began to consume her.

She could stop, she assured herself though a part of her knew better. He truly wasn’t vital to

her. But she didn’t want to stop. She was suddenly starved for the taste of him, the touch of

him. She didn’t feel as though a part of her had been ripped from her very being when she

was in his arms. She somehow felt complete, which made very little sense if even half the

report she had read the night before was correct.

At that moment the report was the farthest thing from her mind. This wasn’t a business

deal. His kiss, his touch, had nothing to do with money, or selling any part of herself. It had to

do with a need she didn’t want to reject, didn’t want to turn away from.

For four months she had seemed to exist within a void. She had been lost, too uncertain, too

confused. Until Travis had dared her to come to him, she’d had no idea how to face each day.

She’d had no idea who or what she was.

The memories were still hidden, but that part of her she hadn’t understood finally made

sense. The part of her that ached for touch? Because she missed her lover.

The part of her that seemed restless, imprisoned? Because she sensed a freedom that didn’t