The Taming of the Thief (15 page)

 
   
 
“I'll
take care of it.” Viktor specialized in odd jobs, from retrieval to
surveillance. Pietr frowned at the pallor under Sophie's silky warm, tan face.

 
   
 
“Check in later.” He rang off without a
goodbye and put a hand on the desk.

 
   
 
“What's wrong?” His narrowed gaze took in
everything from her stiff posture to the tremor of her hands. Her stricken gaze
lifted from the phone to his face.

 
   
 
He
didn't wait for her response, plucking the phone from her fingers and hit the
seven to replay the last message. “I'm sorry I missed you last night, Ms.
Kingston, but trust me when I say that this isn't over.”

 
   
 
Cold
anger sprouted in his chest. He replayed the message a second time, listening
for nuances in the accent. The voice didn't sound familiar, but that didn’t
mean the digital recording wasn't distorted somehow. He listened a third time
and then listened for the instructions to save, delete or forward the message.

 
   
 
He
chose the latter and entered his cell number and hit forward. In his left hand,
the phone buzzed and he traded his attention to forewarding the voice mail to
Jacques along with a text.

 
   
 
Pietr
might not know the bastard taunting his Sophie via phone, but he would find
out. No matter how much it cost. Done, he dropped the phone to circle around
the desk. Sophie's hands were ice as he captured them both between his.

 
   
 
“You
recognized the voice.” It wasn't a question. Fear rolled off the surface of
Sophie's frame like a steam rising from a warm pond on a cold morning.

 
   
 
“He
shot Doctor Hinkley.” The strength sliding under the quivering tone of her
voice filled him with pride. He rubbed her hands between his, flesh on flesh,
heating the chill.

 
   
 
“Have
you ever heard that voice before?”

 
   
 
“No.
Not before…yesterday? Was it really only yesterday?” Sophie's pupils dilated,
drowning their whiskey color in darkness.

 
   
 
“You're safe,” Pietr reminded her, watching
the shudder of her chest rising and falling. “And you're doing wonderful.”

 
   
 
“Wonderful?” Her voice squeaked up an octave.
“He shot someone and now he's leaving threatening messages and I don't even
know why.”

 
   
 
“Bullies threaten when they can't achieve
their goal. He tried for you and he missed. Bastard is frustrated and taking it
out on you.”

 
   
 
The
worst kind of terrorist is the one that targeted the helpless and planted the
idea that they were at fault for their mental torture.

 
   
 
Her
hair flowed around her shoulders as she shook her head. “I can't do this.”

 
   
 
“Yes.
You can. You're not alone.” Violence unsheathed its claws within him. He would
cheerfully throttle the bastard when he got his hands on him.

 
   
 
“Pietr, you weren't there, you didn't see how
he shot Doctor Hinkley. It was casual, simple and there's no proof he was even
in the building.”

 
   
 
“Just
because Bryant hasn't found the proof doesn't mean it isn't there.” Pietr's
words were sour on his tongue. He didn't need proof. He just needed a name.

 
   
 
A target.

 
   
 
“But
he's still out there.”

 
   
 
“And
he won't be getting anywhere near you.” Pietr's quiet rage intensified. His
academic shivered with fear, fear that coalesced in the dark of her eyes,
anchored in tight corners of her mouth and pinched her brows together in a
frown.

 
   
 
Pietr
reached over and plucked the phone from the cradle, hitting speaker and dialing
the message back up. Sophie watched him with too large eyes, but entered her
passcode when the server asked for it.

 
   
 
“Listen.”

 
   
 
“I'm
sorry I missed you last night, Ms. Kingston, but trust me when I say that this
isn't over.”

 
   
 
Sophie shook harder, teeth sinking into her
lower lip and turning the plump, pink flesh white.

 
   
 
“Again.”
Pietr hit the button to replay.

 
   
 
“I'm
sorry I missed you last night, Ms. Kingston, but trust me when I say that this
isn't over.”

 
   
 
A
siren in the distance echoed behind her name on the recording.

 
   
 
This
time she hit the button to replay it.

 
   
 
“I'm
sorry I missed you last night, Ms. Kingston, but trust me when I say that this
isn't over.”

 
   
 
It
was definitely a siren. Voices threaded behind the Frenchman's threat. Voices
called out, asking if anyone was hurt.

 
   
 
Sophie's fearful expression turned to pique
and then deepened into curiosity. Her lips relaxed, her mouth parting slightly
and her forehead wrinkled in concentration.

 
   
 
He
swallowed an approving smile when she hit the button to replay the message
again.

 
   
 
“He
was there.” She breathed out. “He called after the pub last night.”

 
   
 
“Yes.” Pietr nodded encouragingly. “He's
trying to sound dark and mysterious, but listen to how he says your name.”

 
   
 
Sophie glanced at him. Her gaze roamed his
face, Pietr kept his expression neutral. She needed to hear what he'd heard,
she needed to embrace that conclusion and eradicate the fear nibbling away at
her confidence.

 
   
 
“He's
upset.” The last traces of fear evaporated from her tone as she grinned
belatedly. “His voice cracked on my name.”

 
   
 
“Exactly.”
Pietr beamed, pride in his little academic
swelling in his chest. Her belated realization chased the shadows out of her
gaze and put a small smile on the corners of her incredibly kissable mouth.

 
   
 
Her
hands were steady as she placed the phone back in the cradle. “But he called
here … so he knows I work here.”

 
   
 
Pietr
shrugged. “He knew that before. Either way, he's going to have to learn to live
with disappointment.” He took advantage of her empty hands to thread his
fingers through them. They were softer and warmer, the stiffness having
loosened from her frame.

 
   
 
Better.

 
   
 
“Were
you serious about the security?” Her lashes lowered, a coquettish shyness that
quieted the rage clawing inside.

 
   
 
“
Absolument
.
Jacques will lead
your security detail and will make sure you get around the city.”

 
   
 
“I
can't ask you to do that. It must be outrageously expensive.”

 
   
 
“Your
safety is priceless.” He brushed aside her concern, concentrating on the
softness of her hands as his thumb glided over the side of her palm. They were
tender, unmarred by labor. Her research kept her tucked away from the harsher
elements her colleagues in the field were exposed to.

 
   
 
“Pietr.”

 
   
 
“There it is.”

 
   
 
“What?”

 
   
 
“That delightfully exasperated little gasp with which you say my
name.
It's wonderfully erotic.”

 
   
 
“Pietr!”

 
   
 
He
threw his head back and laughed. “Will you promise to cry out my name just like
that when we make love?”

 
   
 
Pink
heat suffused her cheeks eradicating the last of her pallor. Her lips glistened
as her tongue flicked over them nervously. He watched her tongue, jealous of
its intimacy and beyond tempted to taste her himself.

 
   
 
“Pietr,” she repeated his name, exasperation
mingling with warning. She'd tugged a hand loose and pressed it against his
chest. His heart thumped at the contact, boxing at his ribs. His shirt rasped
against his skin and he itched to feel her flesh on his.

 
   
 
“Is
that a yes?” He teased, adoring the slackening of her features. She wasn't
immune to his nearness and he pressed that advantage, leaning closer. “We could
slip
away,
I have a jet at Kennedy. It would just be a
short drive and then we could wing our way anywhere you desire. Chase the
setting sun,
make
love in wild blue waters or cuddle
in front of the fire on a snowy mountain top.”

 
   
His cock jerked at the image of her curvy
frame sprawled on a bear skin rug, bathed in golden red hues from firelight,
his shadow stretching over her as she took him all.

 
   
 
“Wow.” Sophie exhaled the word, her breath a
caress on his cheek. Pietr couldn't agree with the sentiment more. He was eager
to experiment with all the ways she might take him.

 
   
 
“Is
that a yes? Let me call the pilot.” He would be waking the man up, but Pietr
didn't care. His phone was already in his hand, but Sophie's fingers closed
over the top of his, tugging his attention away.

 
   
 
“No…”
she began.

 
   
 
“No to calling out my name or no to the plane?”

 
   
 
Laughter bubbled out of her as Sophie shook
her head at him. Her every gesture and expression was filled with such
animation that he was in awe. “I refuse to answer the first one, but no plane.
Pietr, I can't leave. I have a job. A dissertation – one I have to reconstruct.
Dr. Hinkley is still missing and the police are going to want to be able to
reach me. I can't just disappear.”

 
   
 
Disappointment crashed over his lust, but he
dismissed it with an airy wave. “So that's a no to right now?”

 
   
 
“Yes,
it's a no to right now.”

 
   
 
“Excellent.”

 
   
 
“You're not disappointed?” Her gaze was equal
parts wary and curious.

 
   
 
“Of
course not,” Pietr smiled, already making adjustments to his plans for their
evening. “A
no right now isn't a no
to ever.”

 
   
 
Sophie's mouth popped open and he stole
another hard, fast kiss, tongue sweeping across her teeth to tangle with hers
briefly. “And there's always tonight and I will hear you say it again.”

 
   
 
“Say
what?” The sparkle in her eyes
returned,
the muted
delight that begged him for another kiss.