Thief in the Night Pt. 01

"Be safe," Henry said almost eagerly.

Billy winked at Kerry and disappeared back into the dark hall. She felt lost for a wild moment. Henry pulled off his jacket and began to loosen his tie, and somehow made the simple actions look like a predator crouching low in tall grass, getting ready to spring.

"Scotch?" she asked, crossing to the bar and praying for control.

"Yes. That dress is a felony."

"I suppose being a lawyer you'd know." She looked down at it and felt puzzled. It was her most demure LBD. She thought of the Jessica Rabbit quote, "I'm not bad, I'm just drawn this way," and smiled to herself.

She couldn't help it. Her mother had been stunning, damn near a real life Barbie Doll. Kerry had her father's brown hair, barely tamable, and his shade of blue to her eyes, dark like a stormy sea, but like her mother she was tall and curvaceous. It had been a bane during puberty, but in her career as a thief it had helped. Men never were at their sharpest when their blood left their brains.

But there were plenty of times when it still sucked. Oh, yeah, she laughed to herself as she poured, poor baby, complaining about being too attractive. But often people assumed she was light in the intelligence department, despite two good, solid degrees in history and geology, specializing in minerals.

"It does what it's supposed to," she said turning to find him close. It brought her up short and she shoved his Scotch at him and ducked around him. "No one was looking at me and thought 'master thief,' I can tell you that."

"I doubt they thought that," Henry said, watching her retreat to that damnable chair leaving the couches to him. She was nervous and it pleased him to see that, but he had to wonder.

Her dossier from Georges had said she likely had as much experience with the opposite sex as he did, a fellow hunter. Yet every move he made towards her made her turn skittish. Either Georges was lying, or there was some secret she was hiding from him.

"Ker-"

"Diane," she reminded him.

"Ah, yes. 'Diane' have you told me everything?"

"Dumkoff!" she said sibilantly.

He settled on a couch and lazily toyed with his glass, smiling. "I'm sorry," he said in German. "I forgot. So, is there anything you're not telling me?"

Lots, she thought, but he didn't need to know everything. McCall was a living nightmare from her past, the man who had driven her mother to suicide, the man who had nearly derailed her career. The man who had once made her the greatest fool alive. He hated her with a passion, and Kerry had no idea why. Even her mother had known nothing, or kept her mouth shut.

"They whys of a job are not important," she replied in German. "You know the plans. We take the diamond, McCall is arrested for the theft, and all profits go to charity. I am paying Billy for his help, if it will keep you out of my hair I will pay you as well."

"I consider Georges a friend and I am doing this as a favor to him."

"Ah, yes, a favor. Does he know you have blatantly stated you want to fuck his god-daughter?"

"I believe he understands. The French," Henry shrugged and took a sip.

It occurred to her suddenly, coalescing in the back of her mind, that Henry was not an itch one could scratch. Sex with Henry was dangerous, and as much as that called to her, it made her wary. When all one risked was their health a condom prevented almost all worry, but when other parts of the anatomy were at risk...

She gulped down her entire glass of Scotch inelegantly. Where had that thought come in? Damn it, after this job he would disappear. From his tan and the light blond streaks in his hair she guessed he must work out of L.A. Three thousand miles between them would ensure nothing more than a dalliance.

"Where is your practice?"

"Washington D.C." He seemed surprised by her question and she winced.

Damn it, awfully close to NYC, her stomping grounds.

"Got a wife?"

"Why? Jealous?"

She glared at him. "Wondering if there's any way to blackmail you into behaving."

"Diane, what is the issue? We're two adults, we've both been around the block, we're both single, healthy, and supposed to pretend we're in love. Why can't we just have some fun?"

Because you are entirely more of a beast than those who have filled out my menagerie. Because you're different from the men I usually meet in my world. Because I'm afraid if I give you my body I might lose more, and I'm terrified that if I do and you ask me to abandon the vengeance I have hungered after for ten long years I just might.

"I'm going for a walk," she said suddenly and shot to her feet.

"No. McCall is around, I don't want you near him."

"It will happen. Billy is tailing him, I'll be fine."

He grabbed her arm in a light but unbreakable hold. "You're not going anywhere alone. Your recon is in two days, and when that happens I will trust you to do what needs to be done, but until then you're my responsibility."

"Henry, there are any number of women who would jump for the chance to share your bed. No one said we had to pretend to be a happily married couple. Why don't we pretend to be swingers? Hell, that woman I was talking to at dinner offered to buy you off me or trade, shall we walk to her room and offer her a freebie?"

Hurt winced through his eyes but for a long moment Henry was silently staring at her, and Kerry fought a blush.

"Why do you hate me?"

She jerked her arm and he let her go. "Because I just don't like you." Liar. "Because I don't like blondes." Liar. "Because I don't like pushy men." Liar. "Because I fucking hate lawyers." Well, that one was true, but Henry wasn't nearly as pompous or stuffy as the others she'd met.

More hurt showed in his eyes and she felt like an ass. Sighing, Kerry folded her arms. "Because this isn't a job. I don't give a shit about the diamond, nor the rush, the planning, getting away with it. Ten years ago I swore I would see Franklin McCall burn. I have spent every day of that time planning for this moment, building towards it, and now on the eve of triumph you come in here. You're bossy and pushy, and throw your weight around. Damn it, Henry, if you screw this up for me I'll..."

He folded his arms now and narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Kill you." Because she meant it, she stalked out the door and slammed it behind her.

***

"Here we are, I know just what you need," Billy said thirty minutes later.

She'd wandered the home looking for him, and had begin to question her fashion choices when she had three undesirable come-ons.

Billy had been sitting in a conservatory looking at the moon forlornly when she found him. He'd explained that Franklin was out for the night in town looking to hire his own woman for cover, and his "delectable" right hand man was with him.

So Billy had brought her to the kitchen and in rapid French she couldn't follow sold them some story that had all the women patting her shoulder and the men shaking their heads. They sat at a table and bowls of ice cream dripping with chocolate sauce and shavings were put down.

"Billy, I can't eat this. Hell, I probably just gained three pounds smelling it."

"Liar," he said looking her up and down. "You could actually stand to gain a few pounds."

"Not if I need to do all the things I have to do. Climb walls, slip through narrow windows, hide in small spaces...all of it requires stamina, flexibility, and strength. And sometimes I have to be a freaking contortionist, people like to hide safes in places that practically require me to bend one leg behind my head to fit in."

He swallowed a large scoop of ice cream and laughed to himself. "Honey, you've been playing the game too long you don't even realize you're doing it, do you?"

"Doing what?"

He shook his head and laughed, reaching for a napkin to remove chocolate sauce from his pale cheek. "If I were a straight man, seeing you in a skin-tight dress talking about throwing your legs over your head, I'd be hard-pressed not to tackle you here. No wonder our Henry's so tied up in knots."

"Our Henry? And why is everyone on about the dress? I've had this one or ones just like it for years, and no one's ever complained before."

Billy sighed and set down his ice cream. "Look, luv, I know better than anyone. We start playing a role so long we begin to believe it."

She looked at the staff but no one was minding them. "If you weren't doing...what you do, what would you like to do?"

"Do you know that you just sounded like you belonged on Button Moon?"

"Come on, you know what I mean."

"Do you know why Georges asked me to come along?"

She shook her head.

He picked up his ice cream and took a bite. "I'm retiring as well. Oh, I might have another job after this one, but then I'm going I'm going to open up a shop. Figure I'll go to Canada or America, somewhere where they like the accent, sell curios. And then Pierce Brosnan will ditch his gorgeous wife, realize he's gay, and I'm his true love."

The image of Billy and Pierce Brosnan opening a kitsch shop in Greenwich Village had her stymied. "Hmm."

"And you?"

She'd been expecting this and had her lie prepared. It almost hurt to lie to Billy, but no one could know what the future held for her. "Oh, in my current life I do what people expect. I give to charities, manage my own, go to parties, collect good art. But once I'm done...I think I want to ranch."

"Ranch?"

"You know, cows, steer, buffalo, whatever, wandering around a large fenced in section of plane. I'll get real cowboy boots and a big hat."

He gave her a look of abject horror. "Cows. You're going to leave the jet-setting world of money and sexy parties and adventure to sit around and watch cows shit."

"I don't know, I've never really thought about it, okay? My life has been the same since I was six, scripted out for me. When my mother died I just kept going. I don't know. I've never been able to think past revenge."

She appreciated that if he felt pity at that, he didn't show it. "Fair enough. Let's just take the cows off the table, it's not dignified. For the meantime you need to do this job and we can't have any more muck-ups, am I right?"

"Indeed."

"Well, luv, I can spot a maneater with the best of them. You need to fuck Henry out of your system. Either go up and enjoy the next two or three hours alone while I wait on our friends to return, or go find one of the men who were eyeballing you at dinner."

"Billy, could it be perhaps you who needs to get laid and you're projecting?"

"Probably," he admitted with a shrug and polished off his bowl. Since she hadn't touched hers beyond a single bite he slid it over and began attacking it. "Or could be I'm bored. Let me take a guess, if I may."

"At what?"

"I've seen McCall and Georges told me some. You married the bastard, didn't you?"

"I was twenty and stupid. We had the fastest divorce in the world three months later."

Billy nodded. "So I can guess your usual type. Tall, thin, wear glasses, can quote Chaucer, drink wine based on price, yes? Oh, and older, probably because your own father died when you were young."

That hit the mark a little too closely and Kerry glared daggers at him.

"They're safe. The older men like the sex kitten persona you project, but not the woman beneath. You have a brain, a sense of humor, and a smart mouth. So these men never stay around very long and it makes them safe."

"And you like them young, brawny, and illicit. Want to discuss your daddy issues?"

Billy smiled. "My father sells patries in Liverpool, I see him five times a year. We like to golf. And he knows what I do for a living, it was my Uncle Vito who got me into it. Nice try at deflection, luv. Anyway, I am a bit concerned. Henry's not your usual type."

"So?"

"So, our butts are on the line here. You need to pin things down. Tonight. Fuck him or someone else. Men like him speak caveman and, no offense, you're property. Let him claim you or let someone else."

"Disgusting. I assume then that you're the pitcher? Like to rest your beer on their backs, do you?"

"Low class, darling, but that can be fun. Love it if they have tramp stamps, then I know where to set my nachos."

She stood and grabbed the empty bowls, taking them to the sink. "I've never met a gay caveman before."

"Ooga booga. Eyes on the prize. Seriously. Of course there is a third option."

"What?"

"You start wearing sweatshirts four sizes too large." With that he flounced out.

Her temper rose. If anything all this chat did was confirm she was in over her head. Trying to figure out what to do she wandered into the hall and down to the library. The light was on inside and she peeked in. One of the waiters was doing something by the large potted money tree near the window.

He was planting a camera. An unsettling feeling came over her as Kerry ducked into an alcove that should have been filled by a statue and hid in shadow until he came out. Waiting a moment longer until the coast was clear she swept in and made for the shelves as if selecting a book.

Of course they were all in French, but if asked she'd claim she was fetching one for Henry. Once she was behind the tree she dropped the charade and bent over. Shit, she knew the quality of the device. Interpol. The agent was no good, he should have spotted her.

Damn it all! She had gone to great lengths to make sure Interpol would be far away from the house. She had arranged for them to be close, but only come in when she was ready to make sure McCall took the fall. It was clear her contact didn't trust her...and it was only a matter of time before Billy found out Interpol was there.

Cursing to herself she left it alone and took a book, seeking out Billy. Once more he was among the plants of the conservatory, staring at the moon.

"What is it with you and the moon?"

He turned and gave a wry smile. "You have to ask a gay man why he likes a full moon?"

She realized he brought up his sexuality usually first, a defensive offense. For a hitman, he was surprisingly human and she liked him. She made a mental note to can any references to his preferred partner set for hide-the-pickle. "Har-dee-har-har. Come outside for a walk with me."

Instantly he was all business, and shadowed her like a bodyguard as they opened the double doors and stepped onto the veranda. It was late and most of the guests were elderly, no one was out.

"Interpol is here," she whispered in German. "Waiter, the brownette who looks like David Tennant. Planted a camera in the library in the tree by he north window."

He cursed. "Got your fags, luv?"

"No, upstairs."

"Figures. I'll wait another couple of hours and do a sweep for more devices. I don't have any contacts in Interpol, but perhaps lawyer boy does. You should ask him."

It made sense, and she would have to ask Henry now to keep up the farce. No one, not even Billy, would know the full scope of her plans. But unwanted or not, they had to deal with the agent which meant she would have to make a call, and soon. "Until then, what about the waiter?"

"I'll watch him, but he may have to have an accident."

"No!"

"I don't mean a dirt nap, luv. I meant like a sprained ankle, something to keep him off his feet."

"Don't do anything until I find out more, understood? God, I hate violence."

"That's why I'm here, I find it utterly delightful. You go in first. I ran into Henry in the hall, he should be in the gym."

She nodded and left. The halls were quiet, lights low. It seemed even the staff were tucked into heir beds. After fifteen minutes of searching she found the gym in the basement and inside Henry was alone.

He wore only sweatpants and sneakers, and lay back on a bench, hefting an impressive amount of weight above his bare chest. She froze at the sight of all that naked muscle exposed. Oh, he was built much better than Apollo. He was built like a pro wrestler. And Kerry loved pro wrestlers.

Yes, she loved to sit in her expensive Manhattan apartment in her Dolce & Gabanna, dripping diamonds, sucking down Diet Cokes and watching extremely well built men beating the hell out of one another in tiny spandex. She blamed it on the proximity to New Jersey, but Kerry had first gotten hooked as a child in England.

As she watched him push up and lower the barbell she felt her mouth go dry even as her palms began to sweat. Whatever she had been planning to say flew out of her mind.

That was no good. Her eyes narrowed. Kerry was the seductress, not the seduced. She needed to turn him on and walk away, leaving him cold, gain the upper hand.

Determined, she stalked over to him and trailed her fingers up a meaty cotton-covered thigh. The barbell paused as he looked at her, his eyes dark chocolate.

"It's going to be tough to use any of this equipment in those shoes," Henry said by way of greeting.

"They're better suited to use people." She let her fingertips dance to his stomach. God, his skin was warm, slightly damp with sweat, and so tight over his muscles. For a horrifying moment she was convinced she was getting a lot more turned on than him.

"You have me at a disadvantage here, K- Diane."

He was sweetly tanned gold, and she wondered if that was his natural color. The urge to hook her fingers into his sweat pants and find out was powerful. He kept the barbell raised, muscles straining, and she gave in to one wicked urge.

Bending down she licked across his abs, enjoying the twitch of his muscles. God, he even tasted good. Damn him. At least he was aroused, an impressive tent was quickly growing within those sweats.

Smiling triumphantly she spun on her heel and went to stalk out. She heard a clang and then she was grabbed. Kerry cried out and found herself sprawled across his lap . Before she could protest he was kissing her, and every thought left her head. There was just something so elemental about Henry, and the most primitive female part of her responded with deep urgency.

One large hand claimed a breast, cupping it through her dress. Her nipples felt like diamonds, and as he began to massage she whimpered, pleasure spearing her straight to her aching pussy. She meant to push him away but instead found herself clinging to him as Henry angled his mouth against hers, slanting as his tongue filled her.

Without thought she shifted, straddling him, and felt his hard cock slide against her panties as her skirt slid up. Henry's other hand cupped her ass, and held her tight as she rubbed against him. The explosion of passion consumed them as she let her fingers memorize the sculpted planes and valleys of his muscles.

God, she felt desperate. Kerry couldn't remember being this turned on since her second experience with sex, when she had known some of what to expect and determination to divine it all. After the nerves of the first time she had known she loved sex, and then she had hungered for it body and soul. Since then every seduction she had pulled off had been cool, calculated, orchestrated perfectly. This was raw: there was no grace, no artifice, she just purely needed Henry Williams.

Henry was lost. There had been a game between them, cat and mouse, and when his little mouse took over the role of aggressor something had snapped. Now she was soft and pliant against him, everything he craved, but she was strong. He had never been with a woman with such sleek musculature, and he just knew she'd be a hellcat in bed.

His cock felt hard to bursting, and all he wanted was to sink into her, feel her grip him, watch her throw her had back and scream his name. To that end he slipped his hand between them intent on peeling down her panties, feeling how wet she was, but he encountered her tights.

The momentary confusion made him pull back. "What the?"

God, her blue eyes were misty with passion, her lips swollen, her hair falling loose from the simple updo.