Unexpected Places (2 page)

‘I’m in debt. A bloke I met when I first came down to Melbourne took me to a couple of poker games, illegal ones, with big money changing hands. I thought I might, you know, deal from the bottom of the deck, and make some easy money.’

‘You cheated?’ she said, shocked.

Jason groaned. ‘No! You should see these guys. Tattoos coming out of every orifice, missing teeth, muscles on muscles. Even a suspicion I might be cheating, and they’d kill me.’

‘So…’

‘So I’m good at poker. I can read people. I played straight. And I won at first…’ His voice faded and he swallowed. ‘I’ve seen what they do to men who owe them money,’ he whispered. His grey eyes stared into hers.

She read his terror and her stomach turned over. Goodness, how much money did he owe? ‘I’ll give you everything I have, Jason,’ she whispered, ‘but…’

Jason smiled tenderly. At least, tenderly for Jason. He reached for her hands again, pressing them tightly between his smooth accountant’s palms. ‘Thank you, Ari. I appreciate your offer, but I wasn’t asking you for money. You won’t have enough. But…but if I don’t come up with the money, or at least, a way of paying it back, tonight, I’m going to be fish food in Sydney Harbour.’

She stared back at Jason in speechless horror.

‘They torture people with knives, Ariana. Cut bits off till they die.’ He panted, his eyes wide in his panic.

Sickened, Ariana hugged his thin body to hers as tightly as she could. Shuddering at the graphic images, she sobbed. ‘No, Jason! That’s not going to happen. You have a plan, don’t you? I know you. You’ll have a plan. What do you want me to do?’

* * *

Despite the air-conditioned coldness of the hotel’s functions room, sweat beaded on Ariana’s upper lip. Nausea threatened. Maybe she was hyperventilating? She tried to calmly reason with herself.
Fainting from lack of oxygen is not going to help Jason.
She took a deep, slow breath.
Good girl.

Okay
, she told herself,
this will be fine
. Find Jason’s employer, Luke Donahue. Lure him upstairs to his bedroom. Slip the ground-up Rohypnol into his drink. Steal his map. Jason would take it from there.

She closed her eyes and shivered. If Jason weren’t in such danger, she’d never dream of doing any of this. Not the attempted seduction thing, not the stealing thing. And never, never, the drugging thing. Even knowing that Jason would be killed if she refused, she’d almost said no.

In fact she
had
said no, at first, and asked why Jason couldn’t do it himself. She slumped her shoulders. It seemed Jason had been siphoning off Donahue Finance funds in an effort to pay back his creditors. He couldn’t afford to let Mr Donahue have even a notion he might be involved, or he’d go to jail – where the thugs he owed money to had plenty of friends.

He’d cried and pleaded with her. He’d promised her Mr Donahue would go to sleep for a few hours and would wake up fine. Besides, as he’d rightly said, how else was she going to get the treasure map away from him? The
treasure map!
If things hadn’t been so desperate, she’d have laughed at a story about a priceless pair of perfectly matched emeralds hidden somewhere on a tropical island in the Indian Ocean.

A harried waiter scurried past, his tray laden with champagne flutes. Ariana grabbed one and drank half the glass, noticing but not caring that it was far too sweet. She took two more gulps.

Okay
, she said to her quivering self,
let’s do this in bite-sized chunks
. Where
was
Luke Donahue? It seemed to her jaundiced eyes that every Donahue Finance employee from throughout Australia was attending this cocktail party. The drums, saxophone and trumpet from the jazz band playing in the corner competed with the shrieking voices of the drinking, laughing, good-natured crowd. Her money was on the crowd.

Then she saw him, half a room away. Her heart thumped hard against her chest. She was back to hyperventilating and wanting to throw up. Jason’s black-and-white photo on his laptop had been a close up – taken at a funeral, going by Luke Donahue’s grim expression. Granted, even unsmiling and austere, his face had been mind-numbingly handsome, with even features, wide lips and straight black hair. But that black hair had been cut short and severe. His blade of a nose had given him the authority of a Roman emperor. His stern, piercing eyes had chilled and frightened her. If Luke Donahue had been aiming for daunting and intimidating, he’d got it.

And the real, live Luke Donahue she was going in to battle against—my goodness, how tall was he? He towered over everyone around him. His hair was lighter than in the photograph. Dark brown. His broad shoulders, in his perfectly fitted, James Bond tuxedo, tapered down to slim hips and then down to long, long legs. A snow-white shirt covered a wide expanse of his chest and abdomen. It, in turn, was covered by his black, close-fitting coat, which did little to hide the taut muscles beneath. The elegant bow tie at his throat completed his 007 ensemble.

He’ll be unconscious, Ariana
, she said soothingly to herself.
Take more deep breaths
. She tried and waited hopefully. Nope, soothing didn’t work this time. She was plain, unadorned, terrified.

Then she stole a glance at Luke Donahue’s face and took a huge, relieved breath of air. Gone was the scary, grim man from the laptop. As he held his glass of beer in a loose grip, he smiled lazily down at an elderly woman who seemed to be chatting his ear off.

After taking a final gulp of champagne, she placed her empty glass down on a table. Staring at her prey, who was clearly unconscious of his fate, she willed her stomach to settle. The milling, elegantly dressed crowd between them became extras in a play. Time for her entrance.

Thankful she’d road-tested her six-inch silver sandals all day yesterday, she neatly avoided the chubby man in the too-tight suit who swayed toward her. Only a short distance to go. Full of outward confidence, she sashayed closer to the man she was intending to seduce, drug and steal from. Only three giggling eighteen-year-olds, gossiping in a tight cluster, stood in her way. Their formidable combined perfumes and high-pitched voices distracted her. She hesitated, staring at her feet. Her heart thumped in her chest.

Jason’s haunted face flashed into her mind.
Oh heck.
She took a deep breath and faced her foe.

The old lady had left. Luke Donahue had turned his head toward her. Their eyes met. She gulped. Those stern, piercing eyes were cold chips from a glacier. Blue. Ice blue. Mr Charming had left the room, and Mr Intimidating was back.

But, goodness gracious
, said a stupid, tiny corner of her brain,
isn’t he good looking?

Ariana licked her lips, then smiled a huge ‘Well Aren’t You Wonderful!’ smile, and hoped it was sexy. It was the best he was going to get.

* * *

Luke watched with interest as she approached him. He’d noticed her earlier, when he’d been chatting with his dad’s old secretary. A tiny, pretty little thing — the approaching blonde, not Mrs Abercrombie. She’d been standing all alone, gulping her wine. Then her attention had suddenly fixed on him. She’d started on the long approach, unaware, he was sure, that he knew she was coming.

There’d been the noise at Bob’s door last week, in Melbourne. Someone had been listening, he was sure of it, and that person knew all about the missing emeralds and the map. All week he’d been expecting a stranger to approach him at some point. And well, well, here she was. Another girl. Another one of Changpu’s little offsiders.

Of course, he could be misjudging her. Maybe she was a pretty girl who wanted sex badly and had lousy timing. But he didn’t think so. There was a steely purpose behind the way she was currently stalking him.

Again, an unfamiliar fury rose within him. For Changpu to follow him into his own company was the final straw. He’d played nice up until now. He’d been a perfect gentleman to Mai Ling. But no more. Neither the old man nor this little employee of his could expect any mercy. Luke traced the still-painful line of his scar beneath his shirt.

His eyes roved leisurely over her sweet curves, enjoying the enticing bounce of her white breasts revealed by her sexy black dress. It hugged her trim little body and came to rest at her knees. Her curved hips swayed with the help of heels that must be adding inches to her height. Pretty green eyes fixed on his face. Her cute half-smile, half pout drew her lovely full lips up at their corners.

Clenching his teeth, Luke felt the muscle tick at his jaw. His stomach tightened for battle. But to his surprise, his cock rose in enthusiastic greeting. Luke smiled, enjoying the widening wariness of her eyes, enjoying how his fury and desire for revenge had mixed into a heady, potent cocktail of lust. Grabbing a glass of the cheap champagne they were serving tonight, he stepped toward her, crowding her.

He smiled again. Or at least he did his best, forcing his lips to curl up into something approximating genuine warmth. ‘Hi. I’m Luke. Would you care for a glass of champagne?’

The wariness spread across her lovely face for several seconds. Then she seemed to come to a decision. She swallowed, took a deep breath and stepped even closer. Her soft breasts almost touched his chest. It was a fuck-me smile, with her little white, perfect teeth softly denting her plump lower lip. Then the tip of her pink tongue appeared, moistening both. Not a bad act, he thought. She’s giving me the full treatment, though she might be overdoing it with the tongue.

‘Thank you, Luke,’ she said, accepting the glass. ‘I’m Ariana.’ She raised her glass to those smiling, lush, pink lips. Luke couldn’t help it. He grinned and relaxed a little. Okay, he was angry. But he had no intention of resorting to violence with this pretty lady. Mai Ling’s face had paled when she’d realised she hadn’t killed him after all. But even if he hadn’t had more important things on his mind, like the blood gushing out of him, he wouldn’t have hurt her. If she’d been a man, now that would have been different. For a second, Luke let his mind act out the pleasing image of rearranging a beefy man’s face with his fist.

They clinked glasses, her wine to his beer. Her lovely tits wobbled in invitation as their glasses met. She was even prettier than he’d first thought. Her face was delicate, with softly rounded cheekbones, a little, straight nose, a determined jaw that hinted at steel beneath the prettiness, and those full, kissable lips. His eyes took in the length of her thick, blonde hair and gorgeous creamy skin.

Okay, let’s see where you want to take this
. Luke smiled at her again, raised an enquiring eyebrow and waited.

‘Um, this is a lovely place,’ she said.

‘Yes,’ he agreed, gravely, ‘it is.’

‘But a little crowded, don’t you think?’ she purred. Luke leaned down, catching a faint wisp of her flowery perfume as he tried to hear her words over the squeals of the girls behind them. Then she — what did she say her name was? Ariana, a pretty name — gave him a smile that left him in no doubt about what she wanted. Sex and his map, which was currently resting in his coat pocket.
Well, little Ariana, that’s a big yes to the sex, but good luck with the map.

‘Definitely too crowded. And that champagne is very ordinary. I have a nice bottle in my room, if you’d care to share it with me.’ Always have a good bottle of champagne in your hotel-room fridge. You never knew when it might come in handy. That policy had served him well for many years.

Lovely Ariana smiled the dazzling smile that had probably ripped off half a dozen men, and put her glass down on the table. Luke placed his hand under her elbow and guided her toward the lifts. Her skin was soft but firm. His cock was harder than steel. He’d been treasure hunting for so long now, it had been a while since he’d been with a woman. The added allure of payback made the idea of sex with this cute little blonde doubly inviting.

As they rode up to his penthouse room, Ariana’s feminine perfume filled the small space. They stood, side by side, staring at the lift doors in silence. He had no doubt she was thinking through her game plan, the same as he was.

Let the games begin.

Ariana glanced at her watch. Jason had plenty of time to get to the airport. His flight to Colombo, Sri Lanka, wasn’t till eleven o’clock. All she had to do was slip the sachet of Rohypnol into Mr Donahue’s drink, make polite conversation for half an hour till the drug took effect, find the map and steal it, then run down to Jason.

She was going to be sick.

Rohypnol. The date-rape drug. She hadn’t asked Jason where he’d got it from. She didn’t want to know.

Standing out on the hotel’s penthouse verandah, Ariana absently admired the floodlit Opera House and Harbour Bridge as they illuminated the harbour. The lights of the ferries, boats and ships flickered across the dark water.

She jumped when she heard the pop of the champagne cork behind her. It was a lovely summer’s night, but suddenly she shivered. What had she let herself in for? Good grief, she didn’t go up to strange, incredibly sexy men’s hotel rooms, smile seductively at them and slink out onto their verandah, making sure they appreciated her undulating hips and pert bum.

No. Until two days ago she wore jeans and T-shirts, studied all day, and worked at a local restaurant most nights to pay the rent on the flat she shared with a girlfriend. Paying the rent had been so much easier before Jason had moved down to Melbourne. When he’d had been at uni too, he’d worked nights as a magician and she’d been his assistant. All she’d had to do was show up in a long sparkly dress, pose a lot, let herself get sawn in half, and collect a lot more money at the end of the night than she ever made as an assistant cook.

A warm, slightly calloused hand caressed her shoulder. She turned – and nearly fell off her six-inch heels. Luke had removed his coat and bow tie, and, Jesus, Mary and Joseph, what was underneath was lovely. His crisp white shirt stretched across a broad expanse of muscled chest and flat stomach.

‘Sweetheart, you’re cold.’ He passed her a flute of bubbling, chilled wine. Yes, she
was
trembling. Fear did that to you apparently. The only way she way she could do this was to remember what was at stake. Jason had pleaded with her to remember that at all times. If she chickened out and ran away, which was exactly what she wanted to do, right now, he’d die. Be a brave girl, he’d said. For him.