Chapter 3
“Deborah, you try to make me jealous? Is this why you hired Alexander? I do not trust him in spite of the glowing recommendations.”
“Do not try my patience, Sonny,” she warned. She watched him study her face and knew he wondered who she really was. If he knew, he would be more afraid than he already was. Cassandra DuMont held more power in her small, soft hands than this man could ever imagine. She toyed with the idea of telling him, but decided against it.
Sonnegut was a tool. The double entendre of a thought made her smile as she stroked his sweaty brow. She raked a beautifully manicured nail along his cheek, scraping the roughness of stubble that had caused a delicious burn moments earlier. In bed, he was unequaled, even by John Trip. Trip’s value lay in his inventiveness. Sonny’s size and boundless energy provided an interesting contrast.
He kissed her gently. “You are such a soft, cultured creature, Deborah. Not at all like the women I am used to.”
“Soft?” She laughed at that. “Only on the surface, darling.”
He sighed and lay back, one hand behind his head, the other toying with her breast. “Ah, yes, there are times when I glimpse the steel beneath your charms.”
At the moment, lying with him on silk sheets in her fancy rococo bed, she was soft and wearing nothing but a contented feline smile.
He exhausted her, helped her to sleep soundly, a feat for which she had amply rewarded him. This walk on the wild side had worked in that respect. She loved the edginess of it, operating in disguise, meeting in dark places, the risks of leaving behind the protection of who and what she was.
Becoming Deborah Martine allowed her a certain freedom and keen excitement that she lacked as Cassandra DuMont, doting mother to her son and the chief executive of her family business. Also, this little vacation afforded a perfect opportunity for another, even deadlier strike against Corbett Lazlo. She would give him his own mini version of nine-eleven and bury his people beneath tons of steel and stone.
Sonnegut stroked her tousled hair and inhaled the rich, heady scent of her perfume. He brushed the smooth curve of her lips with his, tickling them with his tongue. “Tell me that you are not attracted to this man, Alexander. You cannot trust him, you know.”
She tweaked his chin. “Ah, darling, I trust no one.”
“Not even me?” he demanded with a pretense of anger.
Cass rolled her eyes playfully. “Don’t be tiresome, please!”
He rolled away from her and sat up on the edge of the bed. “First you enlist that…girl. She is dangerous, that one. And much too young to be of any use.” Cass knew Sonny mistrusted youth. He probably recalled how he had misspent his own doing stupid things that had earned him time behind bars.
Cass sat up and trailed her nails down the center of his back. “We shall soon see what she can do. Alexander will keep an eye on her. As long as she does what’s required of her, that’s all that matters. Once we’ve accomplished our little task here in Paris, we’ll no longer need either of them.”
“Then I can kill them?” he asked, cracking his knuckles, obviously anticipating how he would do it.
Again she laughed, leaned her head against his shoulder and snaked her arm around his waist. “You are such a bloodthirsty savage.”
“You like me the way I am,” he said, reeking with confidence and manly sweat.
“At times like this, I admit I do,” she assured him. Actually there were only two reasons a woman like her, with her upper-class education and manners, would have use for a man of Sonnegut’s talents. He had just fulfilled one—messy, uninhibited sex. The other, he so far had failed. She would give him one chance to redeem himself. If not, then Trip would take care of him along with the others.
He got up and found the bottle of expensive Scotch they had abandoned earlier. Taking a slug directly from it and exhaling noisily, he looked down at her. “This plan of yours is too complex. Why not let me go directly to this man you want destroyed? Simple is better.”
“You will do as I tell you.”
“I will kill him for you. That will be the end of it.” He took another drink and handed her the bottle.
“But I don’t want it ended. Not just yet,” she insisted. She raised the bottle to her lips, daintily sipped the Scotch, then rested the bottle on the bed beside her, cradling its neck. “I’ve only just begun to punish him. He deserves to suffer, to lose everything he has built for himself and everyone who is faithful to him. And he will suffer.”
“I could bring him to you, let you inflict what you wish.”
“As you brought the senator’s son here?” she said angrily, taunting him with his failure. “That was supposed to draw Lazlo out and make him available for a strike!”
Then she relented, placating her lover. “I know, I know. That was not your fault, darling. How could we have known of the boy’s interest in the president’s daughter and that the Secret Service had him under surveillance? That was a fluke. If they had not already been in place and mucked it up, you would have been successful and the senator would have called in his old friend, Lazlo, to find his son. At least you got away and left no trail.”
She sighed heavily and leaned back against the pillows, stretching out her arms to welcome him back into bed. “Come, let me show you how happy I am about that.”
“Again?” he asked with a proud smirk. He lowered himself onto her body and she allowed him the momentary feeling of domination.
Yes, she would sleep well tonight. And she would dream of Corbett Lazlo’s absolute destruction.
“Turn around slowly,” Renee ordered. She slid her finger to the outer curve of the trigger guard, afraid to touch the hair trigger on her borrowed weapon. Mark couldn’t see her do it since his back was now to her. It wouldn’t do to kill him accidentally.
She walked him for several blocks, ordered him down a deserted side street and backed him to the edge of an alleyway. “Turn around so I can see your face.” She needed to be sure. The streetlights were marginally dimmed by the fog and there were no lighted storefronts, but she could see.
As she looked into his eyes, she saw his gaze fly to one side and his features freeze. What?
Before she knew it, he had her pistol in his hand and turned on her. “Now walk calmly forward until we reach your little café,” he ordered. “Then we’ll have our conversation.”
Furious that he had disarmed her so casually, Renee stamped on his foot. He didn’t flinch.
“Temper, temper,” he warned, grasping her upper arm in his free hand and duck marching her along the narrow sidewalk. “Is there a café at all or did you intend to leave me lying in the gutter, a poor homeless corpse?”
“Go left up ahead there,” she gasped, belatedly wondering how she had lucked out and not gotten shot. What a stupid thing to do, reacting to the oldest trick in the book. Look behind you. She felt like an idiot.
When they entered
