Someone To Steal Page 9

  “You didn’t let me finish as usual. I want to go to Belize and retire on the spoils of my career. But the fantasy isn’t just me, alone on a quiet stretch of beach with a drink in my hand…now I want you there, talking nonstop about designer purses and diabetes research and Diet Coke while you’re putting sunscreen on your cat. I want you to come with me.”

  “I don’t want to retire to Belize. I want to keep my promise.”

  “Which is?”

  “Buying your freedom back. Plus, also now kicking the ass of every mob thug who guarded me in that stupid room in Vienna. It’s revenge time, Cain.”

  He stiffened and spoke quietly. “Revenge isn’t worth it. I’ve done vengeance, and it’s more trouble than it’s worth. You don’t feel better in the end. It isn’t satisfying. It’s a hollow victory, and it eats you up inside.”

  “I’m willing to risk it. Did I mention that there was a guy who jammed his hand up my shirt while I was puking from the concussion?”

  “Believe me, I’d like to rip his hand off, too,” he said dryly.

  “Why should I restrain myself? You don’t show any sign of being attracted to me anyway,” she said with a shade of a whine around the edges.

  “I’m giving you time to heal from the trauma of kidnapping.”

  “Heal? Trauma? I sat in a room and drank Diet Coke. While I think drugging me was a total dick move, they at least made the time pass with less panic. I stomped on some guy’s hand, and we sold all those watches. I think I’m good now.”

  He chuckled, but didn’t answered, and she wondered how to wake him up. Her blood raced again, but she measured her breaths. At least she’d convinced him to worry about her less. While she pondered, she heard his snore, a low faraway sound that he made which was both irritating and impossibly dear.

  While he slept, Riley imagined Belize with Cain. Long months of perfect weather and no worries; just sand and margaritas to a soundtrack of birdsong. It sounded dreadfully boring. Still, she didn’t want to imagine a life without Cain, and if he was bound for Belize—since he muttered about the place like it was the Holy Grail for him—she could consider it.

  She sat up and turned on her phone, texted Carol to say she had a new number and to send a picture of Tico. Soon she had a new snap of her angry-looking cat, obviously charging toward the phone. Probably because he was pursuing a barbecue chip. Riley smiled and shook her head. She missed the demanding furball. She nodded off holding her phone, and when she woke, Cain was sitting up, tapping away at his replacement tablet.

  “Are you playing an app?” she accused. He flipped the screen around to show her that he was, in fact, emailing someone in Spanish. “Okay, looking at properties to fulfill your Belize obsession?”

  “I take it you’re dismissing my suggestion out of hand.” His smile was wry.

  “It’ll have to take a backseat to the total destruction and ruination of the Ukrainian and all he holds dear.”

  “Ambitious, aren’t you?”

  “I didn’t specify an entire nation. Just one megalomaniac with an army of thugs and a suitcase full of syringes. That shit ain’t right, Cain. Right now though, I’m hungry.”

  “We’re hiding out, so you’ll have to eat whatever they’ve got.”

  “Goat?”

  “No, more like curry.”

  “I hate curry. It tastes disgusting.”

  “This is India. There’s going to be curry. Brace yourself.”

  “Blech.”

  Out in the main room, the guy who’d picked them up in the truck was serving places of curry to three other men. Instead of hanging back and waiting for an introduction, Riley came forward and took the empty plate from his hand.

  “I can’t thank you enough,” she said. “Here. Let me serve you. Have a seat.”

  The man looked at her, said something in another language to Cain, who answered him. The man laughed and took a seat.

  “That was sweet of you. Incredibly rude in this country since he is our host, but sweet. I think he’s forgiven you, though. Serve away.”

  Riley suppressed a groan at her gaffe, but scooped curry onto Emir’s plate and smiled at him gratefully before dishing up Cain’s and her own. She ate every bite, grateful she wasn’t still zip-tied to a chair and had both hands free now. When they were through, she gathered the plates and dragged Cain to the sink with her.

  “This guy is helping us. Be nice and do dishes, even if you are a legend,” she admonished.

  Cain rolled up his sleeves and started scrubbing. As she wiped the dishes with a dry cloth and stacked them on the counter, Riley admired his strong tanned forearms. His gaze slid toward her, and she felt a sizzle of the attraction that had first stirred when she saw him on the treadmill in Costa Rica. Remembering the long scar down his right side, she fumbled a plate. Cain caught it with his scary-fast reflexes and put it back in her hands, his eyes steady on hers.

  “Go for a walk?”

  “A walk, old man? Let’s go for a run,” she said, hurrying into their room and digging the new running gear out of her backpack.

  When he’d stocked up on supplies for them, he’d made sure she had workout wear but that it wasn’t lime green. In fact, it was gray, with a deep red stripe up the legs and a matching tank and hoodie. The running shoes he’d chosen were top of the line, and felt incredibly light when she laced them up. She had to admit she loved what he’d picked out.

  “Like it?” he inquired when she came out ready to go.

  “Yeah. It’s pretty perfect.”

  “No,” he said, pulling her purple scarf out of his jacket pocket and draping it across her shoulders. “Now it’s perfect.”

  “I’m not running in a scarf. That’s stupid.”

  “It was supposed to be a lovely gesture. I’m giving you your symbolic independence. My masculine authority requires the occasional grand gesture. I thought it was absolutely Shakespearean.”

  “Listen, Macbeth, I know your vanity runs to Shakespeare, but I’m still not running in a scarf. It could get caught on something or make me sweatier.” She stuffed the scarf back in his pocket. “You can keep my independence ‘til we get back.”

  Riley took off down the dirt road, the hardness of the road jarring her legs as the soles of her feet pounded ahead. It felt good to stretch her stiff body, to return to the blankness of running. Soon he overtook her, despite her head start, and they kept pace together, side by side. She felt some knot inside of her loosen and relax and she was more herself. When she stopped, she sat on the ground, her legs out in front of her as she reached forward to touch her toes, leaned back into a bridge, kicked up to a handstand and back over again. She felt like showing off, like jumping for joy that she was alive and free to go outside and run. She knew this appreciation, this awareness, would wear off too soon and she’d be complacent again, failing to see the privileges she took for granted once she felt safe. Riley took a long pull from her water bottle and wiped her face on her sleeve.

  “That felt good.”

  Cain was upon her then, his hands on her face, his mouth covering hers with a deep, breathless kiss. She opened her lips for him, took his tongue in her mouth eagerly as her heartbeat sped with desire. Her hands closed over his biceps and gripped hard, never wanting to let go, never wanting to break the kiss. She was panting for air, the salt taste of his sweat in her mouth, and wouldn’t pull away. It was a fierce, claiming kiss.

  Every inch of Riley’s skin felt alive and heated, tingling from his touch and the rush of excitement. She always felt euphoric after a good run. This took ecstasy to a new level. His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth. He stroked her face, and she moaned.

  “Please, Cain,” she said, her eyes dark with need as she drew back the barest inch from his mouth.

  “I know. Not here, though.”

  “Why not here? There’s no one for miles,” she protested unreasoningly.

  “Because the first time, won’t be in the dirt like animals,” he said, kissing her
again. “We both deserve better than that.”

  “I wouldn’t complain,” she said with a ragged laugh.

  “I would. So it’s a nice reversal. You complain about everything else; I’ll complain about this,” he said playfully, nipping at her lips.

  “Since when do I complain about everything?”

  “Since forever. The curry. The bugs. The sleeping bags. I mean, I saved you from torture and death.”

  “You saved me from Valium and Diet Coke.”

  “You should be eternally grateful.”

  “The bugs are hideous here. It’s surreal.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you the bugs, but the food isn’t bad. Let’s head back.”

  “Only if you promise not to protest that you won’t take me on a sleeping bag in a cinder block room. Because you may not, but I’ll take you that way any day of the week.”

  “Deal,” he said and shot off ahead of her down the dirt road, kicking up dust with every stride.

  The house was empty and dim when they returned. She knew how she looked, sweat cutting rivulets through the dust on her heated skin, wisps of hair twisting free from her ponytail. She didn’t have a mirror, but she knew how Cain looked too. Sweaty and a little sunburned, he was sexy as damnation itself. Riley pulled him into the room they shared and stripped off her jacket, dropping it to the floor, and started on his t-shirt. She pushed it up from the hem, sliding her hands up his sides as she drew the damp fabric over his head.

  She was aware of the stillness, the almost unnatural silence of the Indian countryside, the cinderblock room with its concrete floor. A city girl at heart, she’d never gravitated toward places where the only sound came from the buzz of insects. But here she was, listening to the erratic thud of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. Loosening the drawstring on his running shorts, she pushed them down and he kicked them away along with his shoes. Stepping toward him, she closed the remaining distance between herself and his naked body. Riley set her mouth on his throat; tasting his skin and feeling the flutter of his pulse kick up satisfactorily at her kiss.

  “The minute I saw you knocking back margaritas at nine in the morning by the pool bar, I wanted you,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire.

  “It was a daiquiri, and it wasn’t nine in the morning in Atlanta. I was still on Atlanta time.”

  “No, it was seven in the morning in Atlanta,” he laughed. She felt the laugh rumble in his chest beneath her palms.

  Reaching down his right side, she trailed her fingertips up the flat ridge of his scar, shutting her eyes to memorize the feel of him. When her lips parted, ready to speak, he took her mouth with his, her palms flattening against his muscular back as she was lost in his kiss. She loved the smooth heat of his skin under her hands, the very fact that he stood bare before her. The faint web of scars on his chest and back gave his body an alluring geography to her fingertips. She explored him, learning him by touch.

  The scrape of his beard against the sensitive skin of her throat made her writhe as he kissed her neck. They sank to the floor together, the nylon shell of the sleeping bag blessedly cool against their skin. She shoved her pants and socks off, adding them to the careless heap of Cain’s clothing. His rough, calloused hands were gentle on her rib cage, teasing slowly upward until her nipples contracted, hard from his softest touch. He grinned at her, watching her skin flush pink with desire as he rubbed and pinched her nipples, making her breath come faster.

  She threw her arms around him, not satisfied to sit passively on a sleeping bag while he drove her mad. Kissing him, pushing her tongue into his mouth, Riley made a keening sound. His work-roughened fingertips reached between her legs, pressing and stroking until she was crying out under his touch. He pushed a finger inside her as she came, feeling the tight wetness that awaited him, and stroking her, lengthening her climax until her head fell back weakly over his arm.

  She took his face in her hands, brought him down to kiss her mouth as her breathing slowed. Cain moved away from her, reaching for his bag.

  “If you are checking your phone right now, so help me God—” she said.

  “I’m getting a condom.”

  “Who brings a condom to the end of the world?”

  “What?”

  “There’s a mob hit out on both of us. We could be dead tonight. I don’t want anything between us now, Cain. Please.”

  “Are you on birth control?”

  “No. I haven’t had much to control recently…I do medical coding and I live alone with a cat. Can we please stop talking about this?”

  “I won’t be reckless with you, Riley,” he said, opening the foil packet. “You said it wasn’t my job to protect you. The thing is, I want to keep you safe the way precious things are kept safe.”

  Tears came to her eyes and she turned her head, surprised his pronouncement struck her so deeply. Cain wanted to protect her; he had cared enough to stop and find a condom. It was enough of a declaration for her.

  “Come here. I didn’t mean to make you cry, kid,” he said, pulling her into his arms and holding her, kissing her lips softly. “I’ve lived too dangerous a life not to think about consequences, about how my behavior can affect others. It’s a hazard of life on the run sometimes. Thinking there’s no tomorrow, but there always is.”

  “Okay,” she relented, reaching for him.

  Cain positioned himself between her legs, pressing his cock to her cleft and sweeping into her, washing away all thought in a rush of pure sensation.

  “Oh.” She whispered and fell silent as she rose to meet the tide of his movement, the ebb and flow that seemed to overtake them naturally.

  Cain took her hands in his and held them above her head, pressing his forehead to hers. He moved deeply and slowly within her, their lips nearly touching. She could feel his breath against her lips as the wave built inexorably. He cried out with his release, kissing her. He untangled their hands so he could pull her up into his arms. He settled her in his lap, still joined, and wrapped his arms around her. She rocked against him. Bright sensations sparked through her until she screamed aloud, then collapsed against him.

  His skin was cooler now, her breathing more regular as they spiraled slowly back to normal. Riley felt different, new in his arms, her head against his shoulder. She traced his collarbones and his scars idly, enjoying the luxury of lying with him in silent closeness. She wanted to tell him that she loved him. She tried to convince herself that maybe he was deeply wounded by his marriage and widowhood, that he might be incapable of saying the words. It might be that he just doesn’t love me, she thought, but she pushed that aside in the afterglow.

  “I don’t want to go to Belize,” she admitted.

  Cain stirred and propped up on one elbow to face her.

  “Is it Belize you don’t want, or is it me?”

  “It’s Belize. The whole idea of retirement and idleness and peace. I’m, I guess I’m at a different place in my life than you are. I want to want that, if it makes any sense, but I don’t. I want you, but I want the you that I’ve known since Costa Rica, enigmatic and dangerous and challenging, not….sedate.”

  “It makes sense. It does. You’re starting out, you’re hungry, and I’m done with that game,” he said, his voice resigned.

  “We don’t want the same things,” she said, a catch in her voice.

  “Just because we can’t end up together doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy the time we have,” Cain said.

  “That sounds like a really bad pickup line.”

  “It does not. I’m perfectly serious, and it was Shakespearean.”

  “Knock it off, Macbeth. Nobody wants to shag someone pretentious.” She giggled, fighting back the tears.

  She turned over to try to sleep. Cain spooned behind her, pulling her back into the curve of his body. It was comforting and warm, and for a moment she thought that it wouldn’t be a bad life: peace and comfort and terrific sex in Central America. She’d be bored to death in three weeks, though. There w
as, she supposed, something to be said for that kind of self-awareness. She just couldn’t think of an advantage at the moment.

  Her hands were zip-tied again, wrenched around behind her back and shackled to the metal chair. Smoke was clogging the room, and she heard the crack of flames licking against the metal door. Coughing and crying, she turned the chair over and tried to drag it to the exit. She screamed, but no one would help her and she knew she was trapped; she wouldn’t be able to get away.

  Riley woke up screaming, her face wet with tears. Cain caught her in his arms, but she thrashed, fighting him, pushing at him and clawing his face until he let her go.

  “Riley. It’s me. Wake up!” he said, reaching for her.

  Cain wanted to hold her until she was calm, but he knew from her screams that she was in a nightmare of being bound. He wouldn’t restrain her; it would be too cruel. He reached for the battery-powered lantern and switched it on, showing her the room, shaking her arm. She cried, shrank away from him until she had backed herself into the corner. Trembling and screaming, a thin, despairing wail that cut him to hear, she scratched at the wall hysterically as if she could dig her way out. The quickest way to wake her out of a night terror was probably a slap across the face, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  He stumbled to the kitchen and wet a dish towel with cool water. Back in the room, he got close enough to lay it around her neck as he backed away. Slapping at it, she pulled the shock of wet coldness off her neck and threw the slimy thing to the floor, kicking it away. Like the crack of a whip, her head snapped up. She saw him, clear-eyed, not through the lens of a nightmare that wouldn’t let her go.

  “Cain?” Her voice was shaky.

  “You were dreaming,” he said in an even, soothing voice, as though she were a spooked animal.

  “I wasn’t. No one was here with zip-ties? There’s no fire then,” she said, slumping against the wall. “I was sure it was real, Cain. I probably made an awful fuss.”

  “Tico would be proud,” Cain said. “You could rival his indignant yowl for salmon.”