Inescapable (2 page)

How would it feel if it were real, if it was something tangible and complete, a real partner to adventure with? Being with someone who helped her peel back the layers of her inhibitions so easily had immense appeal, and for a few short seconds she found her mind running to the possibility of a proper relationship with depth, something to build on. No, she couldn’t go into it thinking that—hoping for it. It had to be about fun, nothing else. No expectations of anything more, and no regrets if it didn’t work out. That’s what it had been about in the virtual world, and she had to meet him with the same attitude.

Meet him. A shiver ran down her spine, and it was a shiver of the excitement. What would it be like, after she had already stripped herself bare for him? There would be no turning away from their sexual connection, no denial, and if it worked under those

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terms…oh boy. The scent of her arousal hung in the air, a reminder of everything this relationship had already given her.

He was typing again.

You haven’t said no, and you haven’t logged out. I’m reading that as a good sign. Are you
interested?

She couldn’t deny it, so she didn’t respond. Indecision swamped her, the allure of his invitation vying with her concerns. It was as if she was poised on a precipice and she could scarcely breathe for fear of taking the wrong step. Before she had a chance to reply he was typing again.

We can meet in a public place; you don’t need to be worried about that.

A public place would be good. She appreciated his sensitivity on that point. She was wary, very. She’d be stupid not to be, but he was edging it forward all the time. He was so keen. The lure of adventure beckoned to her all the while, and even though her fingers felt strangely immobile, she forced herself through it. She had to make the move, had to take the chance. With her pulse racing and an oddly delirious feeling, she typed the words needed to move it forward.

My name is Lily, and yes, I do want to meet you.

* * * *

When Adrian Walsh closed down his Internet connection, over half an hour later, he sat back in his office chair and said her name aloud.

“Lily.” It had a distinctly feminine and yet wistful sound and that reflected his impression of her. He’d played in the chat rooms before. It was like sport to him, nothing serious. The quick get-off, the sexy distraction that was right there at his fingertips after a

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long day in the office. He didn’t really care who he chatted with, he just enjoyed the anonymity of chatting about sex on line.

Then L had captured his attention in a different way. Her words had conveyed each breathless self-discovery as she unfolded herself and her fantasies to him. Perhaps he was more of a voyeur than he’d realised, he thought, wryly mused. Mostly he felt that it was special. The way she’d expressed herself, it didn’t seem like she did that all the time. But maybe she did, and he was flattering himself.

Meeting might be a disaster, but what was life without a few risks?

He’d tried to put at her ease by inviting her to his office for their initial meet. A public place showed he had nothing to hide. He wanted her to be chilled with the set up, or she might not even turn up. The need to find out what she was really like had a hold of him these past few days, and he’d felt the urge to edge it forward. She’d bitten. Not immediately, but he’d have put money on the fact she would, eventually.

He smiled to himself and glanced over the paperwork on his desk. The smile quickly faded. The other main thing occupying his mind confronted him, the Carlisle account. He lifted his notes from the front of the file, then sighed and put them down again. He stood up, walking over to the window that looked out over London’s business district.

The January sky was ominous, laden with cloud. The city streetlights illuminated it oddly. He’d been here in his own offices a year, and he was doing well. But now he was in a corner. He’d made a stupid, uninformed agreement when he’d taken on this client. Carlisle was wealthy, and he’d offered him incentives to ‘tidy up‘ his accounts. Adrian had done something similar for an associate, Carlisle had said. Well, yes, he’d worked figures favourably to avoid the taxman for another client, but this was altogether different, and it was way out of his league.

He’d foolishly agreed to the terms, without asking around about Carlisle’s business interests. Now he knew why the incentive had looked so juicy. It wasn’t just that Carlisle wanted a rush job. Something was badly wrong there, and he wished he’d never touched it.

He’d been over-ambitious, taken on a dodgy client without thinking it through, and now his conscience wouldn’t let him go ahead. Damn Catholic upbringing, it always seemed to force him to do the right thing. He didn’t like feeling trapped and he knew that he was going to have to do something about it. There was only one option, to turn the file over to the

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police. Even if it meant hellfire rained down on his head, which—judging from what he’d discovered in the paperwork—was quite possible.

He’d been brooding over it when Lily logged in that evening and she’d been a very welcome distraction. But now she was gone and Adrian had to face up to it. He had to go to the police, whether he liked it or not.

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The elevator jolted to a halt. When the doors slid open, Lily’s stomach flipped. Her legs felt weak. Five days she’d had to get used to the idea of meeting Adrian, and yet her emotions were all over the place. Her more animal instincts had kept her anticipation at a constant high, fuelled by the idea of live action instead of anonymous stimulation. At the same time, she couldn’t quite believe she would soon be face to face with the man she’d been having a virtual sexual relationship with. The two opposing reactions had her in a state of turmoil.

The day had finally dawned and she’d made it this far. She’d even braved the slush-covered January streets in a fancy outfit and heels to meet Mr. Adrian Walsh at his office.

She moved, bumping into the only other occupant of the elevator, a man who was trying to leave at the same time as she was. He was tall, and his fair hair flashed out as he shot her an annoyed look, cold blue eyes scanning her.

“Sorry,” she said, and paused as he pushed past her and exited, turning immediately left. People jostled into the elevator, office workers intent on leaving the building at the end of the day. One of the women put her hand on a button on the panel and kept it there while the others piled in. Jolting into action, Lily squeezed through the crowd and hurried out into the corridor.

Facing her was a large stainless steel board mounted on the wall. It listed the occupants of the suites on the 16th floor. Glancing left and right, she noticed how up-market the place was. Polished marble tiles ran the length of the corridor, inscribed steel plaques gleaming on the doors. She still couldn’t believe that he was an accountant, a man with his own suite of offices in the heart of London. He’d suggested meeting here, assuring her this was a busy place and there were lots of other people around, which there were. Adrian clearly had a reputation to keep, which was also reassuring.

Scanning the board, she smoothed down the close fitting top and skirt that her flat mate, Andrea, had insisted she borrow, and pulled her thigh-length leather coat closer around her.

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Adrian’s office was in Suite 16K. The sign indicated that she should turn left. She took a deep breath and forced herself in that direction, resisting the urge to go back to the elevator and disappear into the departing crowd. She wanted to know; she had to find out. If it didn’t work…her stomach tightened at the idea of it. It would be awkward, especially after all that they had revealed to each other. That was the worst part.

Glancing at the various company names as she passed the offices, she estimated Suite 16K was the last door on the right. The rude man from the elevator was ahead of her, and he seemed to be headed in the same direction.

Her footsteps slowed.

What if that was him? What if the man with the cold blue eyes was Adrian? Just as the thought occurred to her, the man glanced back over his shoulder and looked directly at her, his eyes narrowing.

He was built large and brutish, and dressed in dark clothing. She didn’t think he looked like an accountant. Adrian’s easy, sexy, and direct chat had reminded her of a barman she’d met on holiday, the sort of bloke who put women at their ease immediately. That was how she had been picturing him, working a bar in the city. She’d never have guessed he was an accountant. What did an accountant even look like, anyway? She hadn’t a clue. Andrea’s aunt did their paperwork for the Sandwich Boutique.

The sudden wave of uncertainty sent a shiver through her. The man ahead was moving quickly and had passed the last door on the corridor. That was weird. Where was he going?

As she gained on him she felt increasingly uneasy. Drawing to a halt, she paused outside a random door. Perhaps he was lurking around to check her out as she arrived. If it turned out that he was Adrian, she wasn’t sure she wanted to go ahead with the date. He had a cold look about him that creeped her out.

What the hell was she getting into, she thought, feeling panicked. When the man turned back again she looked away and put her hand on a door handle for suite 16J, grappling for cover while she cautiously watched him from the periphery of her vision.

With one last glance back over his shoulder, the man stepped over to the window at the end of the corridor, opened it, and climbed out onto the fire escape.

Maintenance man, not accountant.

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Lily shook her head and laughed at herself, which released a heap of tension. Then, with a deep, steadying intake of breath, she walked along the corridor to the door of suite 16K. The polished plaque mounted on the door read:
Adrian Walsh, large business accountancy
.

She was in the right place. That was a good start. She glanced at her watch. Just a minute or so early, which gave her enough time for her final self-brief. She’d been through it a hundred times, and it did calm her.

They’d agreed on terms. If they didn’t click, they could go their separate ways. No big deal. If they did hit it off, they’d already broken through the barriers and a hot, fulfilling sexual relationship awaited, at the very least. Yes, and her body clamoured at the thought of it, her anticipation rising. She adjusted her hair, flicking it back over her shoulders, and then steeled herself and knocked on the door.

Too late to run away, you’ve done it now.

A cold draught from the open window at the end of the corridor blew over her, wrapping itself around her ankles and making her shiver. She pulled her coat closer, and then crossed her fingers, swallowing hard. “Please let the chemistry be there,” she whispered, staring at the door. “Please let him be,” she swallowed again, “okay.”

* * * *

Witness Protection Officer, Seth Jones, stood up as soon as he heard the knock on the door. Instinctively, he reached inside his jacket, resting his hand over the butt of his gun.

“Were you expecting anyone?”

Adrian Walsh sat forward in his seat, eyes barely focused on the mid-distance. He shook his head, looking at the door to the corridor with a frown. “I don’t think so. Christ, so much has gone on these last two days.” He started pushing paperwork around on the desk.

“I should have asked Cassandra before I told her to go, but I’m not thinking straight. Her diary is here somewhere.”

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Seth nodded. This intrusion, whatever it was, might work to his advantage. If unexpected callers unnerved Adrian, he might agree to go into safe housing. “This is exactly why we need to take you into witness protection. Eric Carlisle is a powerful man. He could have one of his men come around here at any time.” Walsh pursed his lips, still looking at his desk as if he didn’t want to acknowledge what Seth had just said. He’d been resisting the concept of going into hiding for the past hour, and he was still far from being convinced.

“Okay,” Walsh stated, “so Carlisle is a criminal, but I can’t believe he’d send someone after me.” He threw up his hands in a gesture somewhere between annoyance and despair.

“I mean, how could he? He’s locked up now, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he’s in custody, but he’ll be highly motivated by the need to stay out of prison in the long term. He has contacts who might think they can persuade you not to give your evidence in court.”

Walsh shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t afford to go into hiding, my business, my life…”

It was often this way with witnesses who were outsiders to the crime; those who had no idea what the people they were dealing with were actually capable of. Adrian’s evidence relied solely on paperwork; figures related to illegal overseas exports that shouldn’t have crossed his desk in the first place. Luckily for the police, they had. Carlisle had been sloppy.

It was vital information, and Carlisle’s associates might want Adrian Walsh out of the picture altogether. That was what Seth was here to prevent. Witness protection was his trade.

There was another knock at the door, and it was more insistent this time. Seth gestured into the adjacent office. “You go in there. Stay out of view. I’ll take care of it.” Adrian nodded vaguely and wandered into the office next door. Seth waited until he was out of sight and then headed over to the external door, hand inside his jacket. Senses honed, he opened the door.

Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t an attractive woman looking up at him expectantly. She looked soft and somehow vulnerable, and his first response was the urge to stroke her. It was the serious expression in her brown eyes. She was staring at him as if her life depended on him opening the door. Dark hair scrolled over her shoulder, and she had full lips that made him think of sex. Just as he was about to ask if she were lost, her eyes flashed in recognition and that sexy mouth of hers moved into a big smile.

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Had they met before? He didn’t recognise her, but he met a lot of people. Bemused, Seth lifted an eyebrow in query, resting one hand up against the doorframe and returning her smile.

“Well, hello,” she whispered. Sliding one hand inside her coat, she rested it on her hip, provocatively. “So, do you like what you see?”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.” He couldn’t resist, and as he surveyed the rest of the packaging he rued the fact he was on the job. Underneath the coat, she had on a low cut top that bared her midriff, and a short skirt. She had killer curves, a body made for sex. Glossy black heels and sheer stockings emphasised her shapely legs, and a scarf around her throat drew his attention back to the pale skin of her collarbone and cleavage.

She was also giving him a once-over appraisal with a breed of intimacy he wasn’t familiar with. Something about his face and his stature—and most probably his occupation—

turned women into simpering ninnies around him, and he hated that.

She wasn’t waiting to be invited in. Closing the space between them, the soft kitten look had been replaced by something much more focused, and for some reason the situation reminded him of the time his friends had clubbed together for a stripper on his thirtieth birthday. Except this woman was classy, and she was a stunner.

“I’m beginning to wish I’d knocked on your door long before now.” Looking up, she flashed him a suggestive glance that hit him right below the belt. Resting one shoulder up against the doorframe, she leant in against him, right next to his chest.

They were barely three inches apart, and she smelled so good. Her dark eyes flashed with mischievous suggestion. His body responded, and his mind played along. He could just picture her on her back, naked, and with him over her. Something about the way she was looking at him set the thoughts loose in his head, as if she were thinking about it, too. She was an invitation on legs, and he was ready to party.

Even so, something about the setup struck him oddly, and whatever it was niggled at the back of his mind as he enjoyed the view.
There’s a red-hot woman standing out here, giving
you the come on? It’s odd.

She seemed intent on distracting him—she could be looking for someone else, or she could be covering for someone else. He had to stay sharp.

She reached up and slid one hand around his neck, pushing her fingers into his hair.

Standing on tiptoe, she brushed her lips over his cheek, breathing him in appreciatively.

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Focus Seth, you’re on the job.
Snatching at her hip as she sidled up against him, he grabbed hold of her and gave the corridor a quick reconnaissance over her shoulder.

She had other ideas. Her hands had dropped to his belt, which she tugged on. “I’m so glad this is real,” she whispered, her breath warm on his face.

Real?
No, decidedly surreal
, Seth thought, as she kissed him and that soft mouth opened under his. His blood was pumping southward ever faster, but his suspicion was also rising.

A door slammed. He walked her back against the opposite wall in the corridor, eyes opening.

With his hands either side of her head, he pinned her in place and scanned the corridor.

There were people emerging from offices at the far end. She didn’t even seem to be aware of them, or she didn’t care. Instead, she took advantage of her caged position and writhed her body against his, her hands on his hips.

When she moved one knee up the outside of his thigh, he groaned aloud, shooting her a warning glance, his cock alert and eager to be buried inside her.

“Now wait up, missy.”

“Why? You said it yourself. If the chemistry is there for us we don’t have to wait.” She gave a gentle laugh, eyes sparkling, and rested one hand over the bulge in his pants, embracing his cock. “And the chemistry is definitely here for us, wouldn’t you say?” Whoever the hell she was, she was clearly playing the game without a full deck of cards. But her words barely touched him, because the nerves on his back were wired.

Something was wrong here, and it wasn’t just to do with Miss Hotpants.

Focus, Seth.

Pulling away, he turned to look down the corridor. The fact that her body was warm had highlighted the contrast. Cold air was filling the corridor. The window was open; he could see the fire escape. The window hadn’t been open when he arrived. His radar was up.

“Did you open that window?” He grasped the woman by her shoulder.

She frowned. “No, a blond bloke did, he went out there a minute ago.”
Shit
. It was an old building, a conversion. At this end of the corridor it was likely that the fire escape went around the outside of these offices. He moved fast, dragging the woman with him as he headed back to his mark.