Free Hostage Page 6

  I push my glasses up on my nose and say nothing.

  He eyes me hard, but he’s too beautiful to be intimidating.

  When he realizes I’m not going to feed his conjecture, he moves on. “How did you get in?”

  “Pardon?”

  “In Paris. How did you get into the room where I was?”

  “I breached the security.” That’s me being a smart-arse.

  “How?” Though his face doesn’t show it, his growing frustration with me is palpable.

  “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

  “Like?”

  “Do you divulge your tricks to others?” I answer before he can. “Of course not. Because then your tricks would no longer be yours. I think we’ve already established that I’m smart, so no, I’ll not tell you my tricks, no matter how disconcertingly beautiful you are.”

  He gifts me a respectful nod. “Timber—can I call you Timber?”

  “Yes, you may.” Picture me melting.

  “My friends and I—we’re the best. And the best never get caught, never get compromised. In Paris, I got caught. In Paris, I got compromised. In all my years at this profession, that has only happened twice. A little over a year ago at Castellos Museum, and two days ago in Paris. Both times, the person who caught me was you.”

  I shouldn’t be shocked. After all, I had reminded him about the Castellos Museum encounter when we were in Paris. But he’d pretended not to remember, so I figured he thought I was fibbing.

  Aren’t I the stupid one to think that?

  He was the one who was wearing a mask that night. I wasn’t. So if anyone’s going to remember anyone, it’s him.

  I’m not sure what the current expression on my face is, but he gives me a tight nod and says, “Yes, I remember you. It’s what I do. I notice faces, and remember them. Especially the ones who happen to catch me in compromising situations.” He leans forward and clasps his hands on the desk. “And now, Timber, you have my attention. You seamlessly breached a high-security system without triggering a single alarm. In a matter of seconds. Do you know how long it took us to come up with a plan to get in there? Weeks.”

  “Well, in all fairness,” I say, “although it took me minutes to get in, it did take us months to develop our, um, tricks.”

  “Us?” One perfect eyebrow arches. “Are you referring to your little Indian bestie?”

  She may be little, but she is mighty. As am I.

  I take off my glasses and wipe the lenses with the hem of Collin’s hoodie before putting them back on. “Maybe.”

  At this, he purses his lips. And that mouth is so tempting, I wiggle my toes.

  “I believe you’re not an undercover,” he says. “But I do know why you followed me in Paris. I stole something from you a year ago, and you want it back. Unfortunately, I don’t have it. It’s gone.”

  What on earth is he talking about? I quickly sift through my brain.

  Oh. Right. The Blue Promise. That night at Castellos Museum he stole the necklace we were returning and ran off with it.

  Which would’ve been the perfect excuse to use for following him, had I remembered about it.

  Suddenly, I was hit by another reminder.

  I, too, have something of his. Something he doesn’t know I have.

  Something priceless that he’s probably wishing he could get his thieving hands on. Something that, should I wish to be freed from this laughable captivity, can easily buy me freedom.

  Insanely enough, I don’t wish to be freed. So, that’s a token I’ll be holding onto…in the event of a more desperate situation.

  “But you have something I want,” he goes on.

  I stiffen. No. He can’t. He can’t possibly know I have the key…

  “Your tricks,” he says. “I want to know how you got in. And until you tell me, I’m not letting you go.”

  Oh, thank God. He doesn’t know.

  I relax, apprehension evaporating. This could actually be…interesting.

  “And how do you intend on getting me to tell you?” I ask, genuinely curious. Feeling more than a little thrilled by the possibilities. Had someone mentioned seduction?

  Oh, yeah. That was me.

  He presses the tip of my knife blade to the center of his palm, twisting idly. For someone who’s supposedly anti-weapon, he’s sure having a blast with that thing. I’m so not intimidated. But I play along.

  “Do you know how most people end up becoming my victim, Timber?”

  I bat my eyelashes. “By getting fooled by your pretty face?”

  After staring me down for an eternity, not a single expression in those eyes, he tucks the knife back in its sheath. “Get out of here. I’m done with you.”

  Well, poop.

  “Fine. But if you’re going to keep me here, I’ll need clothes,” I tell him. “Am I allowed to online shop?”

  “Not sure I trust you with a computer.”

  Seriously? I let out a dramatic sigh. “Jaxon, if I wanted to escape, I would’ve climbed through Collin’s bathroom window earlier. It’s obvious you people have never held a hostage before because you totally suck at it. There’s no lockdown, or bondage, and all the exits are wide open. Not to mention, I know where I am. The only reason I’m still here right now is because you all fascinate me.”

  That, and I’m waiting on Melanie. Wouldn’t do to spoil her fun.

  While a lesser man would’ve taken umbrage to that, Jaxon is completely unfazed. I can’t figure this man out. I don’t know if he’s playing me into believing I’m smarter than he is, or what. One thing is for certain, his reason for keeping me here is weak. If he really wanted to know how I got into that room, he’d call in Kavon or Ed to scare the bejesus out of me. He’s holding me for a reason, but that is definitely not it.

  Oh. And I’m not really kidding myself into believing I can actually climb out a window and get away. I’m not fooled for a second by his innocent act. He has a plan for that eventuality, too.

  “Go,” is all he says.

  Assuming that’s a “Yes,” to online shopping, I get up and start to leave, my heart smiling.

  Pausing at the door, I throw a quick glance over my shoulder.

  Jaxon is trailing one forefinger over the serpent’s head on my knife while the other is resting against his lower lip, rubbing back and forth, back and forth. His vacant, unrevealing eyes are fixed on me.

  I see it then. The sliver of darkness that, before now, was hidden by the light of his beauty.

  In that split second, I know, without a single doubt in my mind. Beneath all that prettiness lurks a savage soul. Anti-violence or not, Jaxon is someone to be feared. Someone never to be trusted.

  I swallow heavily.

  One corner of his lips curves up ever so slightly, so deceivingly innocuous.

  And I don’t wait for him to tell me again.

  I go.

  Chapter Six

  Collin is tasked with babysitting me tonight while the others are out. A task he doesn’t seem to have a problem with. Earlier, Jaxon pulled him aside, and the two engaged in a rather intense exchange before Jaxon pulled on leather gloves and left, carrying a suspicious-looking backpack.

  Left to ourselves, we popped a frozen pizza into the oven, and twenty minutes later we’re slaughtering it together on a massive leather couch in the massive living room while watching Phineas and Ferb—Collin’s choice—on a massive flat-screen telly.

  I like this guy. He’s awesome. Mad fun. Like a college frat boy who’s loath to grow up just yet.

  After pizza, I thirst for more information, but I don’t want to ask outright. So, I begin yammering about useless facts I know will bore the crap out of him, until he eventually takes over and starts talking, giving me answers to questions I never had to ask.

  I’m a genius, agree with me.

  Here’s what I learn. It took him four auditions to make the open slot on Jaxon’s team. He describes this moment as the biggest opportunity of his life, explaining that m
aking Jaxon’s team is a major feat in the con man’s world. Just to be allowed to audition is the biggest compliment imaginable. To actually make the team is considered reaching the height of one’s career. First, auditions are rare—if at all—and second, the best of the best of the best compete against each other to be selected.

  When I ask him to explain the whole auditioning process, he closes down.

  But I learn everyone’s ages. Collin is twenty-six. Jaxon, twenty-eight. Kavon, thirty-two. Eduardo, thirty. And Jo, just twenty.

  At ten minutes to midnight, we do the dishes before making our way upstairs to the bedroom.

  Collin showers while I rummage through his drawers for something appropriate for slumbering next to a man I’ll not be copulating with. I settle for another plain T-shirt and underwear.

  While I’m showering and going over everything Collin and I talked about, a thought comes to me. Collin’s possible reason for keeping me so close, for letting the others think we’re having sex.

  It makes me a bit uneasy.

  I have to be sure.

  When I emerge from the bathroom, the lights are off, the telly flickering in the darkness. Collin is on his back under the covers, texting on his phone.

  I pad across the room and climb into bed with him, snuggling under the covers. I face him. He’s typing out an apology to someone called Clarissa for canceling their plans tonight.

  I wait until the message is sent before I speak. “You know who I am, don’t you?”

  Who I am, my unusual background…and who my famous sister is…

  Just like that, he goes rigid. For a long time, he says nothing, but his reaction is all the answer I need.

  At length, he says, “I got hold of your purse before the others could. Had one of my contacts run a background on you.”

  I’d wondered, when Jaxon asked my name, why he’d never checked my ID—driver’s license and such—seeing as he’d kept my purse and phone.

  He never checked because he doesn’t have my purse.

  “You hid my ID from your boss?”

  Setting his cell face down on his chest, Collin sighs. “It doesn’t matter that you gave him the wrong name. Jo’s damn good at what she does. She’s the hacker, the digger, the shit-finder. He’ll find out who you are, soon enough.”

  “And you’re letting him believe we’re together to…protect me from getting seduced and conned,” I finish for him.

  Should I be flattered? Or pissed off…?

  “Because of the money?” I have to ask.

  He shifts onto his side to face me. “No. I see you, Nerd Girl. I see your innocence. I see that you’re a good girl. And maybe that’s why I like you so much. But I also see the way you look at him. I see that you like him, you want him. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

  My skin heats from the inside, and I’m thankful we’re in darkness. I force a nervous laugh. “What can he take from me? I’m not the one who’s rich. My sister is.”

  “Doesn’t matter. If he wants something, he’ll smoothly manipulate you into getting it for him, without you even realizing you’re being manipulated. Until it’s too late. He has the rep he has for good reason.”

  I don’t know what that rep is. But I don’t ask. “Except,” I say, “I know him and what he’s about, yeah? My guard will always be up. Therefore, it’s highly unlikely he’d succeed at conning me.”

  Collin lets out a half snort, half laugh and shifts onto his back again. “You say that because you don’t know him. Why don’t we just keep up the charade for a while longer? Then you can decide if you still want to give yourself to him.”

  I gave a sardonic laugh. “You say that like it’s a possibility he’ll take me if I offer myself to him. He hardly even tolerates my presence…” I trail off, realizing how pathetic it is to fish for compliments and confirmation. I’m not a woman who seeks validation from some bloke. I’ve never even liked a bloke like that. Never looked at a man with lust before. Never cared about having a man like me before.

  Another snort-laugh from Collin breaks through my disturbed thoughts. “Good night, Nerd Girl.” He rolls over to his other side, giving me his back.

  For a few silent moments, I lay staring at it, contemplating the ramifications of me possibly wanting to give myself to a con artist who specializes in breaking women’s hearts and bank accounts. Because isn’t that exactly what Collin is saying about Jaxon?

  Why doesn’t any of that matter to me? Why am I feeling lust instead of caution? Why am I fascinated instead of scared? Why am I seeking to get closer instead of running for the hills? Why do I not care that he’s a criminal, and being attracted to him is wrong?

  Why?

  “I need to know, Col,” I whisper to his back.

  He sighs. “You’re here, right?”

  My answer is unsure. “And?”

  “And none of us know why you’re here. No one but him.” Through a yawn, he finishes, “That’s your answer.”

  Chapter Seven

  Jaxon goes MIA for three full days.

  During those three days, babysitting duties rotate from Collin to Eduardo to Kavon. Never Jo.

  Small favors.

  Kavon is serious and observing, and keeps only one eye on me.

  Eduardo stares and grins me at me nonstop.

  Collin is the one I feel most comfortable around, what with his kiddish charms and knowing smirks. Alas, he has an actual life and can’t afford to babysit me all the time.

  I learn quickly that these people aren’t just a group of degenerates who sleep through the day and rob museums at night. Nope. Not at all. Despite their giant salaries, I learn it’s mandatory that they all have normal jobs and normal low-key, non-extravagant lives. Which, I admit, makes sense.

  Jo’s still in college, majoring in computer science and engineering. Kavon’s a part-time chef at a top-shelf restaurant in SoHo, as well as an on-call chef to a handful of privileged families. Eduardo’s a very successful electrician. And Collin’s a freelance math tutor and financial adviser, and a part-time accounting instructor. He—shockingly—graduated summa cum laude, with a master’s in both mathematics and accounting. An MBA and MSF achieved a year later.

  Yeah, I’m surprised, too.

  As for Jaxon, no one seems to know what he does aside from heists, where he goes when he leaves, or what he’s about off the clock.

  Like now, for instance. I’ve no knowledge of his whereabouts, and neither do the others. What I do know is that my fascination with the No Name Five is waning, and I’m growing irritatingly bored.

  I miss Melanie, and if she doesn’t show up soon, I’m going to be breaking out of here to go find her.

  On the third Jaxon-less night, I fall asleep in a foul mood, waking up no better the next morning. Surly. A rarity for me.

  Collin’s in a deep sleep beside me. He’s even hotter while asleep. But man, he snores like a pig.

  Clambering from his ridiculously high bed, I pad to the bathroom to freshen up, feeling so frigging grumpy I can barely stand it. I really should’ve thought this hostage thing through better. No way can I go for days on end doing absolutely nothing. My brain is alive and forever active, and when I’m unable to put it to genius uses, I go batty.

  And what’s the point if Jaxon isn’t even here for me to gaze and sigh at?

  I head downstairs, knowing that although it’s almost 9 a.m., I’ll probably be the only one awake in this house.

  With a hand under my T-shirt scratching my belly, a yawn stretching my mouth open, I stop short in the archway to the kitchen. My mouth goes dry, and my heart squeezes in a way that just doesn’t feel right. My right eye twitches. Not in a good way.

  Jaxon’s back.

  And he’s not alone.

  I can see only the slender hands of his companion, as he’s got her backed up against the kitchen counter, trapped between his arms. His hands are bracketed on either side of her, his head bent, and her hands are locked around his neck.

&n
bsp; He whispers. She giggles.

  He presses into her. She curls her fingers in his hair.

  Neither is aware I’m standing behind them.

  I should turn and go back upstairs. I should leave them to their privacy.

  Better yet, I should scream for help. Out of spite.

  After all, I am a hostage.

  Yet, I do none of those things. Instead, I continue striding into the kitchen, straight to where they’re sucking face, and say, “Pardon me, I don’t mean to disturb you, but you’re blocking the coffeemaker.” As if I drink coffee.

  Surprised, both Jaxon and his partner’s heads whip to me, staring at me as if I’m an apparition. Then, slowly, with those damned expressionless eyes on me, he backs away from her, despite his companion’s reluctance to let go.

  She’s pretty. Young. Somewhere between twenty-five and twenty-seven. Classy, too. Swathed in expensive garbs and pearl jewelry.

  Both are nicely dressed. Jaxon in a black button-down tucked into black trousers, his hair finger-groomed, while she’s in a swish, square-necked, formfitting black dress, simple black heels, her hair in a neat office wrap.

  She fits him.

  I instantly hate her.

  I can’t tell if they’re coming or going.

  “Hi!” My voice is deliberately chipper, concealing my mood. I stick my hand out. “I’m Timber. Newest addition to the house. You’re pretty. I like your earrings. Beautiful pearls. Do you know how they are made? Cool fact—a natural pearl starts out as a parasite or irritant trapped inside an oyster or a clam. To protect itself from this parasite, the oyster releases this hard but smooth crystalline substance called nacre to coat around it. As long as the parasite remains within the oyster, it continues to coat it with layer upon layer of nacre. In time, all those layers affect the inimitable beauty that we call a pearl. In other words, you’re wearing parasites.”

  “I— U-uh,” she stutters, glancing to Jaxon with a quizzical expression.

  But Jaxon’s eyes are on me. I refuse to feel satisfaction at that.

  “Good morning, Timber,” he says without animosity.

  His partner finds her voice. A voice that’s strong and confident. Which should scare me straight. “Hello, Timber. I’m Nadine. You’re, um, er, pretty, too.”