Flirting with Danger by Bev Hardy (digital e reader TXT) 📖

glory in that," he replied.

 

She considered his comment and thought for a moment. "No," she shook her head, "I refuse point-blank to believe that it would have been someone from the club. I've known everyone here for years."

 

Luke became suddenly very still, and stared strangely at Charlie, his eyes distant though. Her words, "I refuse point-blank..." rewound in his head.

 

"What?" she asked, noticing his distraction.

 

He shook his head and refocused on her. "I know one way of proving if it was someone from the Borelli mob. We need to study the crime scene more though, and the body."

 

"What are we looking for?" she asked, sipping her drink.

 

"Evidence that he was or wasn't shot at point- blank range. If it was anyone from the Borelli mob, that's how they would have finished him. It was a pride thing, after the brothers failed to kill Danny. Every murder connected with the Borelli's since they found out he was still alive was done at point-blank range... to make sure the job was done right," he explained.

 

She nodded and took another sip of her drink. "Oh, something else," she pointed to him, "how did they get here, the murderer and Roberto I mean?"

 

"If it was someone from the club, they were already here," he pointed out.

 

Why was he so convinced that it was someone from the club? The thought was ridiculous.

 

"So, how did Roberto get here then?" she asked.

 

"Look, I dunno; maybe they moved the car or something. What we need is to get hold of those surveillance discs to find out anything for sure."

 

"I've been thinking about that too..." she began.

 

Luke had the feeling he wasn't going to like what she was about to say.

 

"... how exactly are we going to get our hands on those discs?"

 

Luke frowned. What was her problem now? "We ask Denny... Dennis, whatever his name is. We've been through this; he will hand them over or people are gonna find out about his little indiscretions."

 

She shook her head. "Adams, I was joking. Dennis is a married man, and I've got to still socialize with these people you know; I'm not having you ride roughshod into this, causing all sorts of trouble. Besides, it's most likely that she has the discs, if either of them do. I can't imagine him leaving that sort of thing lying around for his wife to see."

 

He sighed. "Right, so we go see her then. You know where she lives?"

 

She nodded. "But.."

 

"But what?" he came back impatiently.

 

She shifted in her seat, crossing her legs. "How are we going to approach this?"

 

"What d'ya mean? We go ask her for the discs!" Why did women have to complicate everything?

 

"Err right. And what reason are we going to give for knowing that she has them? Do you intend to tell her that you were watching her have sex with Dennis?"

 

"Yeah, too right...if it means…" he stopped to think for a second, "…Well, not letting her know we watched exactly," he backtracked.

 

"You watched," she corrected.

 

His eyes narrowed at her.

 

"But..." he paused for thought again, "…we could say... we knew because...ok," he gave up, "we don't ask for them; we go break into her house and take a look around."

 

"We are not breaking into Sue's house," she came back adamantly.

 

A pulse on Luke's temple began to twitch.

 

"But," she put a finger up to stop him from exploding, "What we do is pay her a visit and you can distract her while I take a look around."

 

"Alright, already; we do that then." He took a sip of his whiskey thoughtfully. "How well you know this Sue woman anyway?" he asked, a little out of the blue.

 

She shrugged. "We're not best friends or anything like that, but she's been coming to the club for years, so we're not exactly strangers either."

 

"'Cause you know everyone in the club, right?" he replied.

 

She bristled slightly at his tone. "Yes, as a matter of fact I do."

 

"You spend a lot of time here then," he observed.

 

"The club provides a venue for quite a lot of the charity functions; Doug has really helped us out a lot," she said defensively. "Adams, is there a point to this conversation?"

 

"Is this Doug guy married?" he asked, completely ignoring her previous question.

 

She frowned. "He's divorced. Why?"

 

He nodded, as if that information had confirmed something. What on earth was going through his head?

 

"You said 'us'," he went on, "that Doug had helped 'us' out a lot..."

 

"Richie and I," she supplied.

 

His eyes widened slightly. "So you work with Richie then?"

 

"Sometimes, yes."

 

He nodded. "And how long has Richie boy been coming to the club?" he asked.

 

She placed her whiskey glass down on the desk in front of her and folded her arms.

 

He made a mental note to cool it on the questions. Charlie wasn't happy.

 

"Do you think I don't know what you're doing?" she asked.

 

"What?" he replied innocently. "Just taking an interest in your new life."

 

"No you're not," she contradicted, "You're mentally investigating my club... and my fiancé too!" she added.

 

"Your club?" he quoted her with surprise. "And anyway, you aint engaged to the guy; you turned him down," he reminded her.

 

"Well, the club that I belong to," she corrected. "And I didn't turn him down, I..."

 

"You what?" he jumped in, noting her hesitation.

 

"I... postponed it," she finished.

 

He smiled but said nothing. Eww, he was beginning to annoy her now.

 

"I really don't see what business it is of yours anyway," she said, picking her whiskey glass back up, swivelling on the chair and feigning interest in a magazine on the desk. She turned the pages with a little more vigour than was needed.

 

"Pipe down will ya," he replied, watching her hands and wondering if one of the pages was going to rip in them. "You're probably right; it's most likely someone from New York."

 

She glanced up at him then, narrowing her eyes.

 

But he didn't really believe that ; he was giving in way too easily. Well, he could believe what he wanted. He'd find out the truth in the end soon enough.

 

"So, what d'ya do exactly... this charity work?" he asked, finishing his drink and reaching out for the bottle to pour another. A frown flickered across her face. He seemed to be drinking more than usual.

 

"I organize functions, approach businesses for donations and sponsorship, that kind of thing," she replied casually, her focus still hovering on the magazine.

 

He contemplated her for a moment. "And you enjoy that job?" he asked.

 

She glanced across at him and nodded. "Yes, yes I do. I like knowing that I'm helping people."

 

He sipped his whiskey. "Course you do, 'cause that's you Charlie, but you were helping people at MI5 too," he pointed out.

 

She sighed. "I know, but now I'm helping people in different ways."

 

He turned to glance out of the window for a while before turning back to her. "I know it's a sore subject for you, but don't you ever miss MI5?" he asked, "just a bit?"

 

Her expression softened. "Of course I do, but I've moved on now. It doesn't mean that I don't have many fond memories of working there though," she added.

 

His face lightened. "Yeah, what?"

 

She stared at him in silence for a second. "What, what?"

 

"What 'fond' memories do you have?" he pushed.

 

"Specifically?" she asked with surprise.

 

"Yeah, specifically," he answered.

 

"Err…" She thought for a moment, contemplating memories, whilst feeling the pressure to say the appropriate thing. Then she chuckled as one popped into her head. "We had a lot of fun doing some of that undercover work. I seem to remember you playing a gay art dealer once; that was very entertaining."

 

He smiled. "Yeah, I thought you were gonna bust our cover on that one."

 

She laughed. "I very nearly did!"

 

His eyes smiled at her across the room. "Yeah, we had some fun doing the undercover jobs,” he agreed. “… I thought we did Cindy and Jake Carlton exceptionally well," he grinned, holding her gaze.

 

Hmm, Cindy and Jake were supposed to have met undercover as strangers, but Luke had them supposedly falling in love at first sight and sharing a bed in the house of the target on that very same night! She’d always wondered if he’d actually thought that she might give in and have sex with him in that bed. Not a chance. Still, the evening had been… interesting.

 

She held his gaze in return. "Ah yes, Mr Carlton, I remember him."

 

The private joke kept the amusement in their expressions and fused them together in the moment. Her smile lingered for probably longer than it should have. Then she came to her senses, finally standing.

 

"Well, I'm going to at least attempt some sleep. You should too," she advised, clearing up the last few glasses and plates.

 

"Yeah, well it aint exactly the Park Lane," he said, glancing at the sofa and jumping up suddenly as a thought hit him. In three strides he was there, throwing himself down across its length, his hands underneath his head, a smile on his face.

 

She swung her head towards the sudden commotion.

 

"Turn the light out will ya?" he said.

 

She approached the sofa and crossed her arms, glaring down at him. "Err, and where do you propose I sleep?" she asked.

 

He patted the column of sofa space next to him.

 

"Oh no," she shook her head. "I hardly think it appropriate, do you?"

 

"Appropriate for what? We gotta sleep aint we?" he replied, rolling over onto his side, punching the cushion under his head and closing his eyes.

 

Great! Such a gentleman.

 

She stood there for a moment in the vague hope that he would actually change his mind and move over to one side of the sofa for her. Nope, not a chance! Grrr.

 

Retrieving the blanket, which she had left on the back of the chair, she stomped over to the sofa, grabbed hold of his legs and yanked them off, claiming the corner for herself. Seconds later however, his legs moved back, covering her lap and clamping her to the seat. He shrugged his shoes off.

 

"Adams? Feet!" she exclaimed.

 

No response.

 

Of all the pig headed, arrogant!

 

Pushing his legs away, she stood again, ready to move to the undoubted, extreme discomfort of the desk chair. She only got two steps away however before she heard a frustrated growl,

 

"Where you going?"

 

After which his hand shot out, grabbing her arm and hurling her back to the sofa, where she fell unceremoniously into the space next to him.

 

"Adams!" she began.

 

"Stop being so uptight will ya?" he cut in, watching her lie stiffly on her back, "what d'ya think I'm gonna do?" he asked, his eyes lifting to her face beside his.

 

"Well, nothing, but..."

 

"We gotta sleep, right? There's only one sofa, and I sure as hell aint sleeping sitting up," he stressed.

 

Hmm, she hated it when he sounded so reasonable.

 

She sighed and shot him a suspicious look.

 

He ignored her and wriggled himself deeper into the sofa cushions, closing his eyes again.

 

Well, she guessed that she didn't exactly have much choice. And she really didn't relish the thought of attempting sleep on that office chair either.

 

Slowly, and a little stiffly, with gradual acceptance of her situation, she turned on the sofa, so that her back was facing Luke, and set to the task of attempting sleep.

 

This was weird. She hadn't seen him for seven years and now she was suddenly lying down next to him.

 

The longer she lay there too, the more aware of him she became. They weren't actually touching at all, but they might as well have been. There must have been an inch between them at best... an inch of air that quickly warmed, so much so that she was no longer sure if his body was in fact touching hers or not. She could hear him, almost feel him, breathing. It was a concentrated breathing, as though he was thinking about something.

 

Luke's attention was fixed with fascination down the gap in the blanket. It was that damn dress again! He couldn't seem to keep his eyes from it. He ran his gaze down over her bare shoulder and arm, which was draped along her