Chapter 4
Now this was the kind of aggression she’d hoped to see in Jack Angelo.
Saskia reacted to the violent shove against the wall. She put up her feet against Jack’s hips and kicked him away from her. The man rolled over the end of the bed. Lunging, she jumped on his back and grabbed him by the shoulders. Together they tumbled to the floor. She landed on top of his chest. He grunted as her knee dug into his ribs. A swing of her fist was caught by his hand about her wrist, sounding a smart smack of flesh.
With a deft flip, he slammed her to the floor, shoulders hitting the flat carpeting hard.
“I am not going to fight a woman,” he insisted, even as he struggled to keep her from kicking him. A well-placed knee to her thigh compressed the femoral artery and Saskia hissed. “Is this the kind of man you said you wanted? Trying to rile me up, eh?”
“Just defending myself, actually.”
He sprang up from her and stepped back. He rubbed a hand along his stubble-darkened jaw. “Who are you working for?”
Saskia rolled to a crouch, then stood and stepped back toward the window. Though she preferred having the door at her back. Why was he so suspicious of her? She had been the one to react to his sudden suspicion. And she’d only physically challenged him to show him he was dealing with a woman who could hold her own. She’d found it necessary over the years. Men always thought they were stronger than women.
It didn’t require size or even muscle to defeat a man bigger than her. Smarts and quick thinking always triumphed. And if that didn’t work, she could manipulate the shit out of his macho ego. Been there, done that. In this very room.
“You led me right to this room,” Jack said.
Right. She’d hadn’t been thinking. Stupid move!
“You couldn’t have known which room I was staying in.”
“I could have,” she countered coolly. Then, with a grin, she decided it wasn’t necessary to keep up the game any longer. At least, not this particular episode of the play. “Oh, Jack, yes! Slam me against the wall, you big Irish bull!”
He pointed at her, but couldn’t get out any words. His lips thinned as his jaw tightened, and the veins in his neck looked ready to burst. If that tie were any tighter…
Saskia watched as recall darkened his gaze and he shook his head. “You?”
She performed a hair-fluffing motion, as if a glamour girl checking her style. “I’ve been told I make a ravishing redhead.”
“With green eyes.” Jack’s jaw dropped open. Then he exclaimed, “I fucked you!”
“A quickie, but a goodie nonetheless. Now grab your things.” She nodded toward the small carryon bag sitting on the table. “We’re headed back to my place.”
“Wait a minute. I’m not going anywhere with—that means you were also the—bloody hell!”
She sat on the chair before the window. The man needed a few minutes to process. And the way he flexed his fingers in and out of fists and stalked from the end of the bed to the nightstand was indication he could blow at any minute.
Really, he needed to loosen that tie.
“I figured the woman I screwed here this morning was the same as the one on the train. How else had she gotten my passport? Unless she was working with that other woman. But she was a fake. I saw the belly and tits—” He thrust an accusing finger at her. “I don’t like this.”
“I never asked your opinion of my methods. I was given an assignment to vet you. And I carried it out. Clive handed the passport information to Niles, who did a dark net search on you. I’m not sure what he found, but you passed muster, otherwise Clive wouldn’t have accepted you so easily.”
“Letting a little girl do his dirty work, eh?”
Saskia straightened, shifting back her shoulders. “I am not a little girl. I am a skilled master of disguise who knows how to get the job done.”
Shoving his fists down at his sides, Jack gave her an assessing look that ended with a bob of his head. “That you are.” With a heavy sigh, he went about gathering his things into the carryon, then strode toward the door. “You coming?”
That had been much easier than she’d anticipated. He’d accepted her con. Which went a long way toward his trustworthiness to Saskia. He knew how and why games were played in their line of work. He was either playing along now, or could graciously accept defeat.
Either way, she’d stay on guard. Her job security demanded she not let the man out of her sight. It had also been suggested that seduction could be necessary. Not a difficult challenge, especially when he was so handsome. And virile. Mm… She wanted more.
And she would have more.
Let the games continue.
* * * *
Forty-five minutes later they arrived at Saskia’s small but long flat, three stories above a quaint main street that edged Helsinki’s business district. Jack had unpacked the few groceries they’d picked up and now he rolled up his shirt sleeves and got to making pasta. Not because she’d requested he cook, but because he was hungry. He didn’t intend to do anything to please the duplicitous woman.
She was tricky and remarkably skilled with disguises. To have insinuated herself into his path since he’d boarded the ferry at Stockholm had been genius.
Was it possible she’d been on him since before Stockholm? He didn’t want to consider it. If so, that could only mean he was slipping. Big time.
Now he had to work with the sneaky Saskia Petrovik. He’d fucked her! She’d been…so good. Soft, hot, and more than willing. As horny as he had been. And that arse in his hands. Whew! How was he supposed to act around her now that he knew?
Cool and calm, Jack. Just keep it together for the next week.
And stay sharp. He would not let that woman fool him again any time soon. Of course, it was no longer in her interest to do so. They were a team now. Had to work as a crew to accomplish the task.
Would he ever be able to follow her anywhere now and not imagine that sweet arse in his hands?
They’d left his rental car behind at the Hotel Hop, because she’d argued that they’d be tied at the hip anyway. Jack had begrudgingly agreed. Now, he stood over the stove, stirring tomato sauce for the lasagna. Cooking took his mind away from all things covert and high stress. And illegal.
Just this one final job, and then he was going to walk away from it all. The Elite Crimes Unit would never willingly let him go. But he had a way around that small detail. Besides, he hadn’t a choice. It was do or die right now for the Angelo family, and, despite the do or die promise he’d made to the ECU and vacillating over if it was the right thing to do, Jack couldn’t stand by and let things fall apart in his own family. No matter the consequences. And they were grave.
It was around eight p.m., and the sky facing away from the city was already coal dark. Saskia sat on the long and low brown leather sofa, which faced a broad window overlooking the main street below. Streetlights provided illumination on the notebook she scribbled in. Her straight dark hair fell over her shoulders to her elbows. Dark eyeshadow outlined her blue eyes and gave her the look of an Egyptian queen.
He had held that woman against the wall and sunk his cock inside her. It had been a moment of need, of agreed want and desire. Something he hadn’t felt guilty for, and normally never would.
But now to know she’d been using him…? How to feel about that heinous bit of information? He should let it slide. And he could. Maybe. But how many other men had she fucked to get what she needed? Did it bother her?
Why the hell did he care? He was not an upstanding citizen. Though while working for the ECU, his focus had been putting away criminals. But it was just another disguise he wore. That of getting along with others, pulling his weight, doing what he was told.
He had to stop thinking about this. It would only drive him crazy, and he needed to keep his cool.
“That smells delicious,” she called without looking up from her notebook.
“It’s my mother’s recipe.”
“Your Irish mother made lasagna?”
“What makes you think she was Irish?”
“Well, you’ve got the brogue. Though, I guess the last name doesn’t fit.”
Indeed, he did have the accent, though it battled with the Italian in him when he got angry. “My Irish mother learned to make lasagna from my Italian nonna,” he said. “I’m half and half. But I got my Italian father’s good looks.”
“I guess you did.”
He paused from stirring the sauce to analyze the tone of that reply. Had it been appreciative? He smiled to himself.
“So what did you get from your mother besides some recipes?” Saskia changed her tactic.
“Her temper.”
She turned and looked at him over the back of the sofa. No wig, colored contacts, or disguise. Just plain Saskia. Or was she? Jack wasn’t sure how to read her now. Could he ever trust someone so at ease with shifting her mannerisms and looks?
“If you’ve got your mother’s temper, then who taught you to fight? I mean, I was told you’re excellent muscle. And I have been at the receiving end of your fist.”
“You have not. I pulled my punch in the hotel. Trust me, you’d know it if my fist met your face. Both my parents taught me how to protect myself and to make others understand it’s not nice to screw the Angelos over. You like mushrooms?”
“Sure. So you only do bank jobs?”
As an ECU asset, his job required he play a role, fit himself in with the crew to suss out the true nature of their crime. But sometimes he didn’t have to lie to create his character. It came naturally. Because, hell, he’d had a lot of experience.
“Not always. Smuggling is a jolly good time.”
“And roughing people up?”
“It’s called beating the bloody shite out of them. You can call it like it is. I’m a big boy.”
“That you are. My big Irish bull.” With a wink, she turned on the sofa and bowed her head over the notebook again.
And Jack wasn’t sure how to take that comment. That he was a big bull because…? Of his cock? She knew him in ways he hadn’t anticipated. He’d been inside her. With his big bull. Heh. Yeah, that’s what she’d meant.
Maybe.
Ah hell, she was screwing with his mind again. He had to stop falling into her sneaky games.
Pouring the pot into the sink, he drained out the water and then grabbed a steamy sheet of limp pasta to lay in the pan. Tomato sauce with extra oregano—because he liked to actually smell it—and lots of ricotta. No meat. Saskia had pooh-poohed meat in the store. Whatever. He assembled the dish and put it in the oven.
Then, with just the quiet darkness and the sensual woman seated close with her back to him, he flexed his fingers in and out of fists. Nope. Not going to sit next to her. Felt awkward. And… Don’t think about her arse.
He swung around the kitchen counter and pulled out his cell phone to look busy. This was a burner he’d picked up in Stockholm. The ECU did not have this number. The text he’d been expecting was there. It detailed a dollar amount in English pounds. The exchange location and time hadn’t been set though. They were giving him time to collect a million pounds. Bloody fucking lovely. Jonny had really gotten in over his head this time. The idiot.
A return text wasn’t necessary. Jack either complied or Jonny died.
Glancing over his shoulder, he exhaled. Find your center, buddy. Just hold it together.
Tucking away that phone, he pulled out the other, which was a fancy smartphone. He scrolled to the solitaire game he often played when he needed to zone out and go mindless to defeat the anxiety that always threatened to come out as punches. He had so much to worry about he could almost relate to those times his mother had cursed him and his brother for going missing for days and leaving her an absolute mess wondering if they were dead and dumped in the Irish Sea.
He’d do right by her this time. Or die trying.
Half an hour later, the lasagna was cut and consumed. Saskia impressed Jack by eating three large squares. He hadn’t had a decent meal since the ferry ride. There were no leftovers.
“My thanks to your mother,” she said with a wink. “There’s something about a momma’s boy.”
“Oi. I am not a momma’s boy,” he defended.
“Don’t take offense. I like a man who respects women. You could have done some real damage to me in the hotel room.” Another wink.
“Beating on women is not my thing.”
“What if one came at you with a knife?”
“I know how to disarm an assailant without harming them. Not too much anyway. A little hurt does serve its purpose. Depends on whether or not the woman has pissed me off bloody right.”
“I’ll remember that for future reference. I’m going to hit the hay. It’s been a long day, what with the ferry ride and, seriously, that bladder routine was the real thing. I had to pee so bad waiting for you to finally return and have a little conversation with me.
“You can have the room to the right of the bathroom,” she offered as she aimed toward the back of the apartment. “There’s fresh sheets on the bed, but no extra blanket. Sorry! The place only provided so many linens. And it does get cold in here at night. I think the building superintendent keeps the temperature regulated to just above freezing. See you in the morning, Jack Angelo. Sweet dreams.”
She strolled back toward the bedrooms, pulling the shirt over her head as she did so, revealing her bare back—no bra—which successfully kickstarted Jack’s wet dreams for the night.