The Black Sheep and the English Rose (21 page)

Startled by the question, she took a moment to answer. “Knowing what we know? About Julia's place burning and Chesnokov being in town?” She paused, then sighed. “I don't know. I'd probably be sitting right where we are. Albeit perhaps a bit more inconspicuously.”

Just then not one, or even two, but three town cars eased down the road from opposite directions. Finn chuckled. “Oh, I think we blend right in to this particular community.”

Her lips quirked. “You might have a point.” Her gaze sharpened as the gates at the end of the street ahead of them slowly swung open. “Action time.”

Finn glanced at his watch. “Pretty early for a breakfast meeting. It's not even eight.” He pressed the intercom switch. “Follow whatever comes out of the drive, end of street, on the left. A discreet distance, please.” He clicked off, then fidgeted a bit in his seat, looking out the side window, watching, waiting.

“It's making you crazy, isn't it?”

“What is?” he asked, never taking his eyes off the gleaming Rolls Royce Silver Cloud that slowly rolled through the gates, then mercifully turned away from them and off down the street.

A second or two later, their town car eased through the intersection and quietly rolled down the same street, about two blocks behind the Rolls.

“Not being in control,” she said.

“Who said I feel out of control?” He spared her a quick glance and a fast smile. “I can play well with others.”

“I wasn't referring to our partnership. You want to be the one driving the car.”

“Actually, I was thinking my helicopter would have come in damn handy. We should have rented one of those instead.”

“And so inconspicuous, too.”

“But think about how much time we'd have saved all night and morning long, checking on Julia's client list.”

“The firefighters at the warehouse might have paid us a bit more attention, however.”

All of a sudden Finn rapped on the security glass between them and the driver. “Left! Not straig—shit. He missed the damn turn!”

The speaker crackled. “There's a shortcut, sir. A block ahead, that cuts over. The Rolls is on a one-way. We'll come in a bit closer this way. Once we get uptown, we'll have to stay tight if we don't want to get left at the lights.”

It was a good move. In case the Rolls had noticed them following, turning off would throw that. They could reenter the scene from a new angle, and hope Chesnokov would think it was a different car. “Stay with that plan,” he said, then clicked off.

“Your partner seems to have chosen well with the driver.”

“Yeah, well, Rafe has possibly accused me of having control issues as well.”

“Ah,” Felicity said, her lips curving as she looked out the window to track their progress herself. “How surprising.” With her back to the driver, she was having to crane her neck to see what was in front of them. Then Finn took her elbow and tugged her toward him.

“Sit over here. Better view. And you also won't be blocking mine.”

“Such a gentleman,” she said dryly, then made a little squealing sound when he tugged her into his lap instead of the seat next to him.

His arms snaked around her waist to keep her on his lap. “Now we both have the same view.” He kissed the side of her neck. “Just being a gentleman and all.”

She started to smack at his hands, but then his lips trailed around to the sensitive skin at her nape, which had her catching her breath, and maybe pressing her hips down just a little as she wiggled back against him.

“You know,” Finn murmured just beneath her ear, “we could say the hell with Reese, Chesnokov, and the damn sapphire, and book ourselves into the Four Seasons for a few days.” He nipped at her earlobe. “Weeks.” He tightened his arms around her waist and snuggled her more tightly against the growing bulge in his trousers. “Maybe a month would do it. Maybe.”

“Maybe,” she repeated a bit breathlessly as his palms flattened on her stomach and started to slide upward. She was trying like hell to keep her gaze focused, if somewhat unsteadily, on the Silver Cloud, now three cars ahead of them. But Finn wasn't making it easy.

Nor was she scrambling to get off his lap.

He cupped her breasts, gently catching her nipples between his fingers as he squeezed. A moan slipped out as she arched into his hands, and any thought of the Rolls Royce and her all important mission dimmed substantially.

“Finn—”

“Shh, the driver's on it.”

No
, she thought,
Finn's on it.
And she wanted more of him on her. He nibbled at her nape, making her shudder, then slid one hand down between her legs, undoing a button or two to allow him to slide his fingers along the inside of her thigh.

“We—should—”

“Do more of this,” Finn murmured roughly. “Come for me, Felicity.” He stroked the silk panel between her legs as he continued to toy with her nipples and nibble her neck. She was going to stop him and focus on the job, really she was. But she was tired, and hungry, and needy as all hell, and this felt way too damn good to stop. So she let her eyes drift shut, let the sensations take over, let Finn take over, and promised herself that she'd regain control the moment it was over. Promised herself that she'd come to terms with Finn and his effect on her.

Just as soon as he made her climax. Again.

She was still shuddering, still jerking against his hand and the oh-so-clever fingers he'd slid inside her, when he was already slipping them out and shifting her around so she faced him, taking her mouth with his, even as he slid his hand between them to unbuckle and unzip. “Let me in,” he breathed against her lips.

And she could have told herself that it was only fair to let him have his, since he'd so thoroughly seen to hers, but the raw truth of it was she was craving the feel of him, filling her up, as she'd never craved anything before. She would have pushed his hands away and torn at his pants herself if she'd thought it would get him inside her any faster.

She was hiking up her skirt and he was tugging at his pants, and they'd barely freed what had to be bared when he was jerking her down on top of him. She pushed down as hard as she could, grinding on him, glorying in the long groan of satisfaction she wrenched from him as she clenched her still twitching muscles tightly around him and rode him until every last spark of need was sated to its fullest extent.

His hands were on her hips, his mouth on hers, his tongue deep inside, just as he was, thrusting, just as he was, and she took both as fast and deep as she could. She felt him gather beneath her as his own climax built. She bit his bottom lip, making him growl and buck higher, which made her cry out as he reached a place even deeper inside her. She tightened her fingers in his thick hair and held on as his fingers sank into the soft flesh of her bum, likely marking her there as he tugged her harder, faster, against his now bucking hips.

He reached some spot that sent sparks shooting all over again, and she arched back, trying to keep him right there, on that spot. And her arching took him over the edge, groaning, growling, as he pistoned inside her while coming in a shuddering fury.

She clung to him when it was over, and he clung just as tightly to her, clutching her to him, even as she struggled to stay upright in his lap, her fingers still in his hair, her face buried in the crook of his neck.

Their breaths came in heavy pants, and she slowly became aware that she was damp and sweaty. The air inside the limo had grown humid with their body heat, the windows fogged beyond visibility.

She half expected a chuckle from Finn, something to put the ferocity of what they'd just done in some kind of proper perspective. It was always like this. So, it shouldn't have been shocking or felt like anything other than what it was. If anything, she should be bashing herself for letting him sidetrack her to such a wanton degree when they were right in the midst of tracking down their quarry. Of course, the danger and suspense certainly heightened their sensations, so there was that element, as well, feeding into all this.

None of which explained the burning sensation that gathered behind her tightly squeezed eyelids. Nor her reluctance to let him go, to look him in the eye and once again force herself to put this—whatever the bloody hell it was with him—back into some kind of contained, heart-proof box.

But he wasn't laughing. He was still holding on to her, his face buried in her hair, as if he wasn't ready to let go, either.
He's still recovering, that's all.

Not that it mattered.

She willed herself to move, to gather herself, put her head back in the appropriate place—on the job and not leaning on his shoulder. But at the first hint of movement on her part, his arm tightened around her, his fingertips dug more deeply into her hair. So she did what felt natural and right. She pressed her lips against the damp, heated skin of his neck, the kiss far sweeter and gentler than she typically shared with him. And when she felt him kiss her hair, she kissed him again, drawing her mouth closer to the hard edge of his jaw, before nuzzling against his cheek, until he turned his face and met her lips with his own.

They kissed, softly, silently, reverently. Every moment of which quenched her thirst for him in a way that the most fierce, rocking orgasms could never hope to match.

“The Rolls is entering the parking garage for a Talbot, James & Warrick. Follow?”

Felicity had startled at the sound of the driver's voice coming through the speaker next to her head.

“Yes,” Finn said, his voice raspy and sounding gruff. “Thank you.”

She did move then, but he captured her face between his palms before she could slide completely off his lap. His expression was as serious as she'd ever seen it, his gaze locked on to hers so intently it was as physical a connection as the kisses they'd just shared. There was a stunned silence between them, the power and essence of which she saw reflected in his gaze as well.

It was both a relief, to know she wasn't alone in reeling from the magnitude of what she'd felt had happened just now, even if she couldn't define it, and a threat to what little sense of self she still maintained. She had no idea what would happen now, what meaning he might draw from this, or what actions it might motivate him to take. The breadth and depth of which both alarmed and thrilled her.

He said nothing, just held her gaze for the longest moment. Then he took her hand and pulled it up to his mouth. He nipped each fingertip, then kissed them each, too, all the while holding her gaze. Then he closed his eyes and kissed the center of her palm before curling her fingers—still damp from his mouth—over it.

He wrapped his hand around hers as he looked up into her eyes, his own an almost impossible cerulean blue now through the thick fringe of his dark blond lashes. “I trust you. I trust us. That's a promise. Don't lose it. Keep it safe.”

She was torn by the almost overwhelming instinct she felt to pull his hand up and give him the same gift, demand the same vow, startled by how strong the urge was to bind herself to him in such a significant way. Ultimately…she couldn't. There was so much between them, but even more still left unsaid. And if she couldn't tell him the rest, then she had no business making promises. Of any kind.

And yet she curled her fingers tightly into her palm, knowing he felt her do it. It was as much of a vow as she could make. That she did, indeed, want what he wanted. She just had no idea how to go about getting it.

Not without putting at risk the trust that had already been bestowed on her, and the vows she'd made to others first.

“P
ull over to the side and watch where the Rolls parks, or if they do a dropoff,” Finn instructed the driver, then released the intercom button so they could both quickly put themselves back together. He watched the Silver Cloud pull over in the drop-off zone by the bank of elevators, then tapped on his PDA, doing a quick search for Talbot, James & Warrick. His eyes widened when their home page popped up. “Well. That's…interesting,” he said, skimming the home page of their Web site, trying to absorb this latest curveball.

“Interesting, how?” Felicity asked, frowning as she tidied up her hair a bit. At a glance it was hard to believe she was in the second day of wearing the same clothes, with little time for personal maintenance. A closer inspection would reveal the crumpled fabric in the skirt of her dress and the tiny lines of fatigue feathering the corners of her eyes and tugging at the corners of her mouth. All he could see was how well kissed her lips looked and the rosy glow flushing her cheeks.

He returned to the screen before he gave in to the urge to pull her back across the space between them and demand the driver take them to the nearest hotel. First for a long, hot shower, followed by as many courses of room service as they could stuff themselves with…and then whatever extended period of time it would take for him to convince her to open up the rest of the way and tell him whatever it was she was still hiding from him.

“Looks like Talbot, James & Warrick is a private company that specializes in, well…matchmaking. For lack of a better word.”

Felicity had been peering out the window, looking in the direction of the Rolls Royce, too, but jerked her gaze to Finn's. “They what?” She looked back to the gleaming silver car, and they both watched as an older gentleman, bald head, somewhat portly in stature and stooped in posture, was helped out of the backseat by his driver. “Chesnokov,” she murmured. “But…what is he doing at a matchmaking service?” She looked to Finn. “And what, exactly, do you mean by ‘matchmaking'? As in, ‘hired help' kind of matchmaking?”

“No,” Finn said, scrolling down through the information on his screen. “It's not a call service. I meant exactly what I said.”

“And they operate out of this entire building? From the name, they sounded more like an investment firm or something.”

“Appears to be a pretty upscale operation, so I imagine that is exactly the tone they wish to set. They operate internationally. Their specialty looks to be arranging matches between U.S. citizens—mostly men, from what I gather, based on the focus of the pictures on the home page—”

“And foreign women,” Felicity finished, sounding slightly disgusted.

Finn flashed a smile. “Says the foreigner here.”

She glanced at him. “It's not that, it's just…I mean, it goes on in Britain as well, but it all seems so rather…overly specific, don't you think?”

“As long as both sides are consenting, and it's legal, I guess it doesn't really matter what I think.”

“Oh, I'm sure it's lovely for those who get what they want, but…” She rubbed her arms. “There just seems to be something rather…off-putting about specifically looking for someone who is of a culture other than your own as your main criteria for selection, rather than simply finding a mate who fits you, regardless. And the idea that that single criteria is so important to enough men to warrant an entire industry devoted to it just seems…depressing somehow.” She looked back out the window. “Rather like adopting a spouse for the sake of having one, rather than finding your true love.”

“To each his own, I suppose.” Finn watched her watching Chesnokov and thought about what she'd said.
Finding your true love.
“But, speaking for myself, I couldn't imagine settling for anything less.”

She glanced at him and got caught up in his gaze for a moment, as they often did, before quickly shifting her gaze back to the window. He smiled and reluctantly returned his attention to the window as well. He wanted to retrieve the sapphire because it was the right thing to do for his client, but mostly he just wanted this damn case over so he could get on with convincing Felicity that there was more to life than running a Foundation and occasionally stealing priceless antiquities. Namely, him. Of course, once the case was over, so might his chance be to see her, much less speak to her, ever again.

That
was what was depressing.

They watched as Chesnokov moved slowly toward the elevator, relying heavily on his cane.

“So, do you think Chesnokov is a client? Or—” Felicity looked to Finn. “Tell me, do they work with a large percentage of Russian imports? Maybe he's helping them ‘procure' their matches.”

“There seems to be a focus on Asian and Far Eastern cultures, but Europe and Russia are featured, too. Without some digging, I can't say about a possible business connection here, personal or professional. What I can say is that this feels like a dead end. Whatever his involvement is with Talbot and crew, I don't see this having anything to do with the sapphire.”

Felicity sighed. “Me, either. If he just made that deal, or was planning to do so today, I don't see how a visit here connects to that in any way.” She slumped lightly back in her seat and folded her arms across her stomach. “So…now what? Should we stay here until he leaves, continue to follow him, see if we can connect him to Julia or the stone?”

“I'm not giving up on him entirely. He's still our best bet at the moment. But I think we could use a brief time-out here.” He pressed the intercom button. “We're going to grab a cab, but I'd like you to sit here and wait for that same gentleman to leave. When he does, contact me, and follow him. We'll meet up at his next stop. I'll make sure you're compensated for your trouble.”

“Not a problem, sir. Your partner, Mr. Santiago, made me aware I might need to be…flexible when he hired me.”

“Excellent.” Finn rattled off his cell phone number, then popped open the door to the town car and slid out. He reached in for Felicity. “We can grab a cab out front. Find a nice hotel. Recharge a little.”

She lifted one eyebrow, but said nothing as she took his hand, making Finn smile.

“Not that kind of recharge. It might take me a while to…recharge enough for that.”

The corner of her mouth curved. “I've never noticed a particular problem with that before.”

It's never been…whatever this is now, either
, he wanted to say. But when she looked down and smoothed at the folds of her skirt, as if suddenly thinking about that as well, he opted to leave it alone.

“A hot shower, a hot meal—”

“Yes,” she said instantly, her green eyes sparking to life.

“Done.” He took her hand, and they ducked out of the parking garage and went around to the front of the building, grabbing the next cab making a dropoff. “This will give me a chance to check in with Rafe directly, and from there, we'll figure out what our next move will be. He should have something more on the police and fire marshal reports from the fire, as well. We can do some further checking on the Talbot thing, too, just for information's sake. I'm not holding out much hope on that angle, but you never know what may pop up.” He got them both settled in the backseat. “The nearest hotel please,” he instructed the driver. “Nice hotel,” he amended.

The driver smiled as he glanced back at them. “How many stars?”

“As many as you can manage in as short a drive possible.”

He nodded and pulled into traffic.

“I think we might want to go back by the gallery now that it's almost time for normal business hours to begin,” Felicity said. “What time does it open today?”

“Eleven.” He looked at his watch. “That gives us a few hours. Depending on what happens with Chesnokov's next move, maybe we can swing by the shipping docks first.”

“Okay.” Her shoulders were a little curved, arms folded once again, her gaze directed out the window. “We're not going to find Julia in either of those places,” she said, sounding more dispirited than he could ever recall her sounding.

He knew it was probably fatigue talking, but it still made him wish he had a better handle on the situation, and better options available. He did not want to track down Reese. “We'll talk to whoever is there, get a feel for what's going on, maybe find out when she last made contact, see if there's anything that sounds like it's not business as usual. We can check the shipping locations to see if there's been any activity at the docks since the police were there for the alarm.”

Felicity nodded.

“You don't seem overly optimistic.”

She lifted her gaze to his. “I know you're against this, but I can't help but think going directly to John might save us a lot of time. He's the one in the middle of this. I'd think he would be our best bet right now for getting some answers. At least about whether or not Chesnokov was his intended buyer out here.”

“Except we can't trust anything he says. We have no idea what his involvement in this really is, or if his story about Julia is even true. We talk to him and it's just an opportunity for him to give us more useless information. Or worse, misdirect us.”

“We can ask him if he's heard from her, or knows anything new about the moves she's making. We might be able to glean something from how he responds.”

“Last time we thought he was in a lot of pain and telling us the truth. Now, we're not so sure. I don't think seeing him face-to-face will give us a distinct advantage, but his knowing we're grasping at straws certainly will give him one.”

Felicity sighed. “If he's telling the truth and she does have it, and the deal hasn't already happened, she's definitely going to hand off or ship out today. She can't risk having it on her any longer than that. Even a novice would know that much. Too many people know of its whereabouts, and that it's still potentially available.”

Finn drummed the stylus against his thigh. “The more I think about it, something still isn't adding up with Chesnokov for me, either.”

“I agree. Maybe Julia hasn't connected with him yet and his stop at Talbot's this morning was just something already on his schedule, and completely unrelated.”

“Maybe. That's why the driver is staying on him. I'm still trying to connect bringing Andreev in from Russia to carry the stone when Chesnokov's already here.”

“That's not all that unusual. Andreev could have been taking it back to Chesnokov's home in St. Petersburg. Chesnokov being here in the States, with the sapphire a continent away, would provide him with a decent cover if things went wrong with the deal, or if Andreev was caught trying to transport a gemstone of questionable provenance out of the country. Then that deal never even got off the ground, so Reese, now with Julia in tow, brings the stone directly to him, hoping he'll go for it.”

“And yet, I'm still not satisfied.” Finn stared up at the buildings they were passing, playing back over the fact that Chesnokov was visiting a matchmaking company. “Is there any other reason he might have been meeting with the Talbot group that could be connected to the sapphire? Maybe we're not thinking far enough outside the lines. I mean, it's not even eight o'clock in the morning. Pretty early for a matchmaking strategy session. And why would someone of Chesnokov's stature be using such a service anyway?”

“Maybe the connection is professional, not personal. As I said before, maybe he's helping them procure women from his side of the pond.”

“But what would that have to do with the sapphire?”

“I haven't any idea. It might be unrelated.”

“On the surface, it certainly would appear to be. But that doesn't feel right, either.” He swore under his breath. “Nothing about any of this does.”

“So…do you want to go back? Stick close to him?”

“No, I'm going to put Rafe or Mac on it, see if they can make any kind of connection. With those two digging and Rafe's guy following Chesnokov, we can get back to tracking Julia.”

“And John?”

“No, I told you—”

She lifted her hand to stall his rebuttal. “I don't mean to contact him; I meant to track him down. Find out where he is and what he's doing. Maybe that will be our path to finding Julia.”

Finn fell silent as he thought that over. “Not a bad idea. But we're short a little help on that, and I can't get either of my partners out here fast enough to—”

Looking a bit hurt, Felicity said, “What am I? Chopped liver?”

Finn had already gotten so used to working with her, he'd forgotten their original plan to split up, divide and conquer. “Right,” he said, “I'm sorry. I just—” He smiled. “I'm kind of getting used to bouncing things off of you, working with you. I wasn't thinking, but I didn't mean to insinuate…anything, really.”

She smiled briefly and made a point of curling her fingers into her palm and squeezing them tightly. “Good.”

Trust. He'd meant what he said, but she was clearly calling him on it. “We'll get a hold of Rafe and Mac, then figure out our battle plan from there,” he said, and meant it. He just didn't know quite what that plan was going to be yet. The idea of them splitting up didn't sit well with him, but not so much because of the trust issue, but for more personal reasons. He had this gut feeling that if he let her out of his sight, he'd never see her again. And trust had nothing to do with it. Things were happening here, things they didn't understand, including burning buildings and a missing gallery owner. Until he had a better handle on who the players were and what the stakes were, he didn't really want to let Felicity out of his sight.