The Lady Is a Thief (12 page)

 
   
“Thank you for your help,
gentlemen.”
He let the men off the hook and headed out. She'd set a
false trail to Half Moon Bay, but if she maintained a locker at this bus
terminal, she might have at that one. He sent orders to an asset in San
Francisco to drive there and check it out. He had time to change before she
arrived back in Los Angeles.

 
   
Four to three, sweetheart.

 
   
H
er
ass ached by the time she descended the steps from the bus. The round trip took
her off the grid for most of the day and if they did trace her path, they'd
have trouble pinpointing her. She knew how to change her appearance so that
even if the security cameras saw her, they'd see a college student or maybe an
aspiring actress fresh off the farm. It didn't really matter as long as they
didn't see Lady Katherine Hardwicke.

 
   
Duffel bag slung over her shoulder, she
blended in with the shuffling crowd weaving through the terminal. Several
diverted to the bathrooms and still more raced out to the front to light up a
cigarette. She gave the blue haze of nicotine addiction a wide berth and turned
right to head up the boulevard.

 
   
She wanted food, a shower, and ten hours of
sleep and not necessarily in that order. It was late on Saturday. She couldn't
pick up the keys she needed until lunch time on Sunday. It would be Monday
before she could drive to Bakersfield.

 
   
The ticking clock seemed to beat with every
pulse of her heart. But she couldn't move any faster. If she'd rushed to pick
it up today with Louis and Jarod breathing down her neck, it would have cost
her more time than the bus trip. Playing it cool and safe were her only
options. She glanced at the watch on her wrist, almost nine. She didn't want to
stop anywhere for food, so she would order room service.

 
   
Twisting to walk backwards, she lifted a
hand and hailed a passing taxi three blocks from the bus station. The yellow
cab swung in and she opened the back door and slid in with her duffle. “The
Westin Pasadena, please.”

 
   
“You got it.” The driver pulled back out
into traffic with barely a glance at her.

 
   
Kit wrapped her fist around the duffle bag
straps and stared out the window. The nightlife hopped on the boulevard,
throngs of tourists thicker in some spots than others. She loved these types of
churning city centers where a person could easily get lost amongst a sea of
strangers. Three turns later, the taxi surged onto one of the dozen arteries serving
the greater Los Angeles area. The drive from Hollywood to Pasadena would cost,
but she had enough cash in the bag to take care of expenses through the
weekend.

 
   
Thirty-five minutes later, a yawn splitting
her jaw, she gave the driver an extra twenty for a tip and entered the hotel
lobby. It took her fifteen minutes to get a room. She paid cash and used one
of the three I.D.s hidden in the duffle
. Tara
Pelfrey
would be burned after the trip, but she didn't
care.

 
   
“Can you go ahead and place an order to room
service for me?” She smiled at the clerk. The man assured her he could, so she
asked for a shrimp and lobster pasta with water and a pot of coffee. She didn't
really need the caffeine, but she craved it.

 
   
The tenth floor room boasted one king size
bed, a forty-inch television screen and a view of Los Angeles. She ignored all
three and stripped to get in the shower. Washing away a day's worth of sweat
and bus smells went a long way toward restoring her mood. She wrapped a towel
around her head and another around her body before sacking up the second set of
clothes she would abandon. She left Georgia's in a trash bin in Half Moon Bay.
The shorts and 'I heart L.A.' t-shirt in her bag would take care of tomorrow
and she could shop for anything else she needed.

 
   
Shoving the plastic bag of discarded clothes
into the trashcan, she padded back to the closet. The Westin always provided
robes. She barely pulled it off the hanger before someone knocked on the door.
“Room service,” they called through.

 
   
“One moment.”
She
pulled on the robe and glanced through the peephole. A white shirt, black tie
and large tray filled her line of sight. Opening it, she pulled it wide and
pointed to the desk. “If you wouldn't mind…”

 
   
“…not at all.” The waiter carried the tray in
and set it down. She pulled the towel off her head and rubbed at her damp hair
while he took the silver lids off the plates. Reaching into the bathroom, she
pulled a ten off the stack of bills she had left and turned back to find the
waiter standing between her and the door.

 
   
Every hair on her body stood up as she met
the knowing brown eyes.

 
   
“Jarod.”

 
   
“Kit Kat.”

 
   
How
the hell…?

 
   
Her gut churned. She mentally catalogued the
room.
Tenth floor.
The balcony looked out over the
city and the parking lot, not a pool. Jarod stood between her and the only
other viable exit. He didn't appear to be armed. She had a
taser
in the bag, but not in direct reach.

 
   
Like a Mexican standoff, they just stared at
each other. She couldn't process how the hell he found her. Her limited options
narrowed down to fight, seduce, or surrender.

 
   
She wasn't ready for any of them. “You're
not a banker.”

 
   
“No.” He agreed. “I'm not. Go sit down—and
eat. You look tired.”

 
   
“Who are you?”

 
   
“I could ask you the same question.” He blew
out a breath and held up a hand. “Go eat, Kit Kat, before you fall down. We can
talk about everything when we're done.”

 
   
She lifted her chin. She was not giving up.
She had not come this far, worked this hard to lose now. “You need to go.”

 
   
“After we talk” he nodded again, very
agreeable. But she recognized that tone. She used it all the time. Placate the
upset one and do whatever after they calmed down.

 
   
“I could scream.” The warning didn't seem to
have any effect on him. If anything, the sensuous curve of his mouth turned up
into a wolfish smile.

 
   
“You could. But if you were going to do
that, you would have screamed already. I give you my word I'm not here to hurt
you.”

 
   
“Then get out. Walk out that door right
now.”

 
   
“No.”

 
   
Her heart slammed against the cage of her
ribs, beating faster than a mad hummingbird, desperate for escape. Time to
switch tactics, she took a step toward him and forced her shoulders to relax.
“Jarod.”

 
   
“If you try to kiss me again, I'll spank
you. Now go eat.” He probably meant to sound intimidating, but damn if his
order didn't just turn her on. Liquid heat rolled through her blood and she
sucked in a breath.

 
   
“You liked it when I kissed you.” Defiance
reared up inside her, crushing the spike of fear.

 
   
“Didn't say otherwise.
But you and I, we need to talk. First, however, you need to eat before you pass
out.”

 
   
“I never pass out.” She denied the
lightheaded sensation sweeping over her.

 
   
Jarod took her arm and tugged her gently
over to the desk. He pulled out the chair and gave her a nudge until she sat.
She expected him to be angry and—from the muscle ticking in his jaw—he probably
was. But his touch gave none of that away. He moved back a couple of steps and
perched on the edge of the bed.

 
   
“Eat.” He repeated. “Please.”

 
   
The please did it. She fell back in the
chair and stared at him. “Why are you following me, Jarod?”

 
   
“If I promise to give you the truth when
you're done, will you eat? You're pale and your eyes are glassy and I think
you're in shock. Eat. Drink some of the coffee. Get your blood sugar up and
then we can talk.” The brisk orders dissolved in the request and she pulled her
gaze away from him to look at the food.

 
   
“I don't get how you found me here…” She did
everything the way she learned. No one ever followed her before—in fact, the
only person she'd talked to aside from the night clerk was the...

 
   
She froze and flicked a look up at him.

 
   
He spread his hands wide. “You got it.”

 
   
He
was the taxi driver.

 
   
He waited for her outside the bus terminal.

 
   
He knew she'd be coming back.

 
   
“Who are you?” Her fingers trembled as she
wrapped them around the fork.

 
   
He didn't look away from her. “I'm your
friend and I can help you.”

 
   
“With?”
The tension
stretched her nerves to the breaking point.

 
   
Clasping his hands together, he leaned
forward, elbows on his knees.
“
The
Fortunate Buddha
.”

 
   
And the last shred of her hope snapped.
Stabbing the fork into a piece of lobster, she forced a smile past the anxiety.
“The what?”

 
   
“No more games, Kit Kat. This is serious.
duMonde
is working his way through
Los Angeles looking for you.”

 
   
She let that warning roll off her back.
“Well, I hope he can learn to live with disappointment.”

 
   
“If I can find you, so can he.”

 
   
“Then I'll get a restraining order.” Maybe
she could still play this off. “It doesn't matter, he doesn't know where I am
right now and I'll be leaving tomorrow. I can stay ahead of him.”

 
   
“Can you?” Jarod's expression didn't change.

 
   
“I outran you, didn't I?”

 
   
“True. And yet, here I am…oh, and the score
is four to three. Thank you for the wild goose chase. I enjoyed it.”

 
   
Laughter bounced up inside her and she took
another bite. “Apparently not well enough to remain distracted by it.”

 
   
“Chasing you is nowhere near as interesting
as catching you.”

 
   
The liquid heat his earlier order stirred
flamed hotter. She shifted in the chair all too aware of her nudity beneath the
robe. She enjoyed the game, the hunt, and the chase. But she couldn't afford to
let him catch her…not yet.

 
   
“You haven't caught me yet.” She licked her
lips, gaze colliding with his. A mistake, because the wild want in his gaze
couldn't be mistaken for anything else.

 
   
“I know.” He
murmured,
his voice a seductive caress.

 
   
Her stomach flip-flopped and she couldn't
suppress the shudder of reaction. “What if I don't want to be caught?”

 
   
He didn't touch her. He didn't reach out. He
didn't move. He just stared at her. “What do you want?”

 
   
You.
The unbidden response burst through her mind and she
pushed the plate and fork away. She must be exhausted because her mind filled
with images of the two of them, kissing, touching, caressing, and tumbling back
onto that bed.