In Harm's Way (12 page)

Robin reflected on how easily she had fallen into that relationship and how glad she was that she'd at least had the good sense to protect herself financially before she'd met either man.

She wondered if James had put off the divorce, thinking perhaps he could coax her into some sort of settlement. He'd only mentioned it once, and then jokingly, when they'd separated. It almost seemed as though her continued goodwill had meant more to him than a portion of her wealth. Perhaps he'd had more money than she realized and didn't need hers.

Inspired by that thought, she quickly entered his name and the statistics she knew about James Andrews into the program she had already accessed to check out the others.

A quarter hour later she still followed the trail, printing as she went. Now things were beginning to make sense. Robin felt like kicking herself for not doing this before she had married James. But then, of course, she had respected his privacy too much. And at that time she'd still had a modicum of that worthless commodity called trust.

 

Mitch made the rounds of Kick's house, checking the windows and doors before turning in for the night. He would spend the night on that awful leather sofa in the living room. Couldn't afford to get too comfortable, even though he was a light sleeper. He doubted he'd be sleeping, anyway, after what had happened with Robin. And what had
almost
happened.

He should have heeded the captain's command and avoided any involvement with her. Now Mitch had her believing he
was some kind of gold digger. The rotten timing of that kiss could hardly have left her with any other impression but that.

With a muttered curse, he automatically checked the security system and headed back for the living room.

Robin was sitting on the sofa waiting for him, a sheaf of papers spread out on the brass-and-glass coffee table in front of her. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips compressed into a firm line, disguising their soft fullness. She had her arms folded over her chest and her long legs crossed at the knee. One foot swung erratically, further betraying her anger. Not that she was attempting to hide it.

Mitch sighed and dropped into the chair across from her. No way could he explain what he had done. No way could he reassure her that he had no designs on her money.

“Okay. Think what you want to think,” he told her. “No defense. I wanted to kiss you so I did. You want an apology, you got it.”

“I think he had mob ties,” Robin announced as if she hadn't heard him.

Mitch blinked. “Who?”

“James!” she said with a huff. She leaned forward and tapped the papers with her hand. “It's all there. Sal Andreini financed his education. James had a law degree!” Her breath rushed out in a shudder as she recrossed her arms. “This is my fault.”

“That he had a law degree or mob ties?” Mitch asked. He knew very well that wasn't what she meant, but he needed a second to switch gears here. He'd been expecting her to light into him about the other issue, apparently forgotten now, or shoved aside for this old proof of betrayal. “So you checked him out.”

“Finally!” she admitted with a furious nod. “He had even changed his name! Can you believe that?”

“Related to Andreini, was he?”

Again she nodded. “Nephew. He had absolutely
no
Italian characteristics! He didn't even look Italian. I still can't believe it!” She pushed up from the sofa and began to pace. “I bought every word out of his mouth! I was so
stupid!
”

Mitch got up, too, and reached out to touch her arm. “Hey, don't beat yourself up, Robin. You had no reason to think he wasn't telling the truth. He must have cared—”

She rounded on him, her eyes shooting sparks. “No! He never
cared.
You were absolutely right. He used me. I don't know how yet, but he did.” Her throat worked as she swallowed heavily. Mitch thought she might be about to cry.

“Come here,” he said roughly, drawing her into his arms. Mistake. But he didn't care. She needed a little comfort and he couldn't help but give it. When she would have pushed away, he gentled her. “No kissing, no ulterior motive here, Robin. Just a hug, okay? You need it and so do I.”

He patted her back, feeling her give in and bury her face in his shirt. Her shoulders shook. “Now listen to me,” he ordered, “James might not have been what he appeared to be, but he did what he could to get rid of that guy who kept bothering you, didn't he? That Troy whatever?”

He felt her nod against his chest.

“See? And I can't think of any benefit he would have gotten from doing that, or marrying you, a famous model, when one of his main objectives in life must have been to keep a low profile. Right?”

Again she nodded.

“So he must have been sincere in wanting to help you out. All that other stuff I said about him and your money was just my jealousy talking. Even if he
was
mixed up with the mob, he was still a man with feelings. And I can't imagine any man not wanting to play white knight to you, sweetheart.”

She reared back, her palms braced against his chest, and looked up at him. “Why?”

“Well…”

“No, I really want to know. Why?” she asked again, seeming almost desperate for the answer.

Mitch knew he had to be careful here. He was not only answering for James Andrews, but for himself. “Because you bring out protective instincts, I guess. Not that you look defenseless or anything, but there's something about you that seems inherently good, Robin. Innocent. Any man worth his salt would do just about anything to preserve that. You're the sort of woman he would want to think well of him, to like and respect him, maybe depend on him a little. I'm sure that's what James had in mind.”

“He
lied
to me,” she insisted.

“Yeah, he sure did. But what else could he do if he didn't want you mixed up in whatever he had going, hmm?” He brushed a strand of hair off her brow and tucked it behind her ear.

“But he did involve me,” Robin said sadly. “He called me to bring him the disk.”

“Desperation, I bet,” Mitch answered truthfully. “He must have been up against a wall, don't you think? His life probably depended on turning over what was on that disk.”

“And I came too late to save him,” she whispered.

“You can't blame yourself for that,” Mitch said, taking her by the shoulders and giving her a gentle shake. “You had no idea what was at stake and he didn't tell you. How could you possibly have known?” He guided her over to the sofa again, urged her to sit and joined her. “Now why don't you show me all you found out about him?”

She'd discovered quite a lot. Mitch went over every fact she had unearthed. College records. Andrews had been no
dummy, that was for sure. Hadn't graduated at the top of his class, but came close. Sure enough, one of New York's favorite crime bosses had footed the bill at the University of Virginia.

After graduation he had worked briefly for a small law firm in downtown Manhattan dealing with contract law. He had resigned in good standing after two years. Another two years with an investments and securities company. Again he had resigned. No record of any private practice or other employment. There was no record of any job with an insurance company. Apparently, Uncle Sal had put him to work for the family after the four years in legitimate trenches.

So what dealings did the Andreini family have with Somers down here in the South?

“What do you think it means?” Robin asked when Mitch had put down the printouts. “He was almost certainly working with his uncle, right?”

“All we can do is guess at this point. Maybe Somers and the others on the list provided some service for the Andreinis. James was probably in charge of the payroll. Say he electronically transfers the funds from his uncle's account and sets up offshore accounts for the men on the list. All he had to do then was to give them the account numbers. That way the money never comes stateside and won't need laundering. Maybe one of them got greedy and decided he wanted all of the numbers.

“This Somers man?” Robin asked.

“Must be. The others are dead.”

Robin sighed and leaned back against the sofa. Instead of angry, she now seemed simply weary. “James probably would have come here to oversee whatever deal they had going with the Andreinis.”

Mitch agreed. “Yeah, that makes sense. His uncle would want to keep an eye on whatever it was.”

“But the Russian, Mitch? What does that mean?”

“Russian mafia's big in New York. Maybe they were collaborating with the Andreini family on something. It's already done, whatever it was. It's the payoffs that went south.”

He patted her hand that rested on the cushion next to his. “Don't worry. We'll get to the bottom of it. You've helped a great deal by digging up this much. The D.A. will be ecstatic. The feds, too, maybe.”

Robin smiled, but it looked a little wan.

“No, I mean it,” Mitch assured her. “You know, I bet you could hire on with the Bureau here doing BIs. You're damned good.”

She frowned.

“Background investigations,” he explained.

“I know what a BI is,” she said. “And I don't need a job.”

“Oh.” He had forgotten for a minute that she was independently wealthy and didn't need to work.

“I have a job,” she told him.

“Designing Web pages,” he said, nodding.

Robin cleared her throat. “Well, that's only a sideline. Something to feed my creativity. Actually, I have another occupation I suppose I should tell you about. You'll probably find out, anyway, since there are bound to be questions about how I acquired this much information on James and the others. Much of it you can buy if you know where to go, but some I, uh, got from unauthorized sources.”

Damn, she intrigued him. To tell the truth, all she had to do was sit there to intrigue him, but this beauty had smarts he suspected he hadn't even begun to guess at. “Well? Exactly what do you do?”

She looked a little defensive. “I'm an intrusion tester.”

A what?
“The job title sounds interesting. You want to tell me what it means?”

“You'd call it a hacker for hire, I guess. Companies, institutions, agencies and so forth, hire people to test their accessibility. You see, the network administrators set up the systems, but they rarely test it to see whether they can withstand dedicated intrusion. They install proximity servers or firewalls, but someone has to check whether they work properly. Most of them don't.”

Mitch laughed. “You actually get paid to snoop?”

“Paid quite well. I also track down those who do it without sanction. Which tonight, I guess, would be people like me.”

He shook his head in awe and squeezed the hand that rested under his. “You're something, you know that?

Robin drew her hand away and looked at him. “I apologize for the accusation I made earlier,” she told him. “I tend to get a bit paranoid about the…the money.”

Mitch smiled. “It's okay. If I had that much, I would be, too. Please know that I don't have dollar signs in my eyes when I look at you, Robin. If you recall, I was mighty attracted to you before you told me you had it.”

He could see that she wanted to believe him.

“I'm not very good with…people,” she said, staring at her hands, fiddling with a small gold ring on her right hand. “I don't read them well at all.”

“So you said. Well, I think you do just fine. My family liked you. I like you,” he said, using his most ingratiating smile on her. “A whole lot.”

She blushed and ducked her head. “Thank you.” Her reluctance to continue was obvious. “I like you, too. But I think we should restrict our…whatever this is…to business.”

For a minute he couldn't respond to that. Well, he
could,
but the response he had in mind wouldn't do. He wanted to take her in his arms again, this time to kiss her senseless, to
shake her right out of that shell of insecurity. If insecurity was what it was. It could be she had a very real aversion to starting up something with a cop who she still might think had her bank balance on his mind.

She raised her gaze to his, awaiting his answer.

Finally he nodded, trying to hold his smile in place. “Okay. Strictly business for now. For the record, though, I would like to be friends when all this is over, if that's okay with you. Maybe call you sometimes and see how you're doing? Drop by if I ever get up your way and take you out to dinner?”

She brightened. As if she were six and he'd offered her a pony. “You would? I could show you the city! It's a great place!”

“Yeah, that'd really be something. I'd like that.” He didn't have the heart to tell her he had already seen New York as well as a large part of the rest of the world. Besides, he wanted to see it all again. With her.

Mitch was torn between begging her to trust him and warning her not to offer her friendship so easily to a man she knew so little about.

This woman was such an ironic blend of sophistication and vulnerability. What the hell was he going to do with her? How would he resist her while she was here? And how in the world would he protect her when she left?

R
obin leaned forward and massaged the muscles in the back of her neck. Her eyelids felt heavy as lead. Maybe she could sleep now.

After Mitch had ordered her to bed, she had tried. An hour later, she had headed to the kitchen for a glass of milk, hoping that would help. Unfortunately, she noticed Mitch was sleeping on the living room sofa and she abandoned her quest. She didn't want to risk waking him. Then neither of them would have a good night's sleep.

Instead of going back to bed, she decided to do something productive. Feeling only a bit guilty for using her host's computer yet again without permission, she had gone into Kick's den, logged on and tried to find out more about what might have caused James's death.

The New York City, New Jersey and Nashville news
archives offered nothing helpful. Neither had a global search of arrest records. James had no priors under either of his names.

A couple of the men on the list had arrest records, but for nothing serious. No convictions. They were all businessmen, fiftyish, with seemingly nothing else in common.

“Don't tell me. You found out about my C-minus in Algebra.”

Robin jumped, then swivelled in the computer chair until she faced him. “I couldn't sleep.”

He handed her another glass of wine. “I know. I heard you wandering around earlier. See if this will help. Find anything new?” he asked as he handed her the glass.

“Nothing much. I was wide-awake, thought I would dig a little deeper and see what came up, but I don't think I got any facts that would add much to what we already know.” She closed the program, backtracked carefully and logged off.

“What we already
guess,
” he corrected in a wry voice. “It's two o'clock, y'know.”

Robin shook her head and got up, set the wine aside and stretched. “I'm sleepy now. Thanks for the wine.”

“No problem.” His hot gaze wandered down from her face, growing intense as it traveled slowly over the tacky T-shirt she was wearing, hesitated at the top of her thighs where the shirt ended and then followed the line of her legs. “Oh, wow.” His words were little more than a sorrowful murmur.

Robin resisted the urge to stalk past him and simply stood there, feeling gawky and woefully underdressed. Her hair was a mess, her breasts were too small and her feet were too big. At least now he'd seen the worst she had to offer.

Finally his eyes met hers again. He offered a sheepish smile and a shrug. “Sorry, couldn't help it. You just look so damned incredible.”

He was the one who stretched credulity, but she wasn't about to comment on the width of his broad, bare shoulders, the trim line of his waist or the fact that he'd forgotten to fasten the waistband of his trousers.

She quickly looked away from him and focused on the picture beside the door, just to his left. “I guess we'd better get back to bed.”

She heard his breath rush out in a short laugh. “Yeah. I could get ideas a
friend
shouldn't be entertaining. Some legs you got there, kid. You're the only person I know with pretty knees, you know that? Now some girls,” he said with a negligent wave of his hand, drawing her attention back to him in spite of her resolve, “they have great thighs, curvy calves and cute ankles. Even pretty toes.” He shook a finger at her legs. “You do, too. But I have never,
ever
seen one with knees that good.”

Robin suppressed a nervous giggle. Mitch had turned back into the hallway with that last comment and was still shaking his head, muttering in disbelief.

“She could incite
riots
with those knees,” Robin heard him say. “Gotta get that girl some baggy pants.”

Robin followed him out and switched off the light, reassured that he would treat this attraction between them with enough silly humor to dispel it. She wished
she
could.

He made her laugh, something no man had ever done before. This wasn't the first time, either. Robin knew her sense of humor was underdeveloped. She had never felt the urge to giggle before, and it sort of unsettled her a little.

Still musing over that, Robin didn't realize he had turned around again in the darkened hallway until she ran smack into him. He grasped her shoulders, kissed her soundly on the forehead and turned her around. “Your bedroom's
that
way,” he said, giving her a gentle shove. “Sleep tight, kid.”

All these years she'd been waiting for a man to awaken that part of her she'd begun to believe was immune to desire. Why did it have to be him? Why did it have to be now? And why did the word
desire
seem so anemic to describe what he made her feel? She doubted she'd ever sleep again.

Mitch flopped down on Kick's break-ass sofa and braced his head on his hands.

Damn, that was close. He'd come
that
near backing her against the fancy wallpaper in the hall and doing his best—or worst—to claim that delectable body of hers. If he hadn't thought it would screw things up for good, he would have. He could have had her willing in less than a minute.

Her face betrayed every emotion she felt unless she was working hard to prevent it. But wasn't he actually the one who had suggested she drop that defense mechanism? That protective mask of hers?

She wanted him, too, Mitch knew without a doubt. The fact amazed him. Humbled him, too, but not enough to keep him from acting on it. No, it was her fear, her mistrust in his intent that did that for him. He couldn't make love to Robin with her thinking all the while he was putting the make on her for her money. Also, he worried that their being thrust into this situation of forced proximity might be causing the sustained level of lust.

Okay. He'd just have to deal with it. After all, he was responsible for her, wasn't he?

He exhaled sharply and sat straight up, bracing his hands against the seat of the sofa, feeling the tension within him ready to snap.

God, he wished he could run. Just go outside and run like hell until he was too exhausted to move. But then he'd just fall down somewhere and think about her, anyway. “Well, push-ups ain't the answer,” he muttered. Not in his present condition.

Kick did have an exercise bike, Mitch remembered, thinking back to when he and some of the guys had helped his new partner move in here a few months ago. Maybe exhaustion would help him sleep. Or at least make him too tired to follow through on what he wished he could do.

He padded barefoot down the hall to the last bedroom and flipped on the light switch. There was no overhead light source, only a weird-looking lamp in the far corner that threw a weak fan of light on the wall and ceiling above it.

The cycle was top-of-the-line, as was the rest of the equipment Kick had in his little home gym. He wondered if Kick really was this body conscious or if he just collected all the toys for show. He stayed in good shape and had way too much energy. Maybe this is how he worked that off.

Quickly stripping down to his briefs, Mitch started his workout. A half hour later he had worked up a good sweat. His leg muscles were burning, and he was getting dehydrated, but his mind was still alert and filled with visions of the woman down the hall. Exhaustion helped more than he'd expected, physically if not mentally. He decreased the pace and wound down slowly.

When he got off the cycle and leaned down to pick up the clothing he had shucked, he saw her. She was standing in the doorway, virtually hugging the frame. The way she raked his body with that slumberous gaze of hers promptly undid any relief the workout had provided. He sprang to attention again at the sight of her standing there.

One long, slender foot rested on top of the other as she leaned against the molding in a sleepy, childlike pose.

“What's the matter?” he asked. “Still can't sleep?”

She raked her bottom lip with her teeth and continued to look at him from beneath those long, fanlike lashes. “I didn't want to be…alone.” The last word rushed out as if she'd tried to hold it back.

Mitch dropped the clothes he was holding. She released the door frame supporting her and approached him warily, stopping a couple of feet away. No words were necessary. The frankness of her expression told him exactly what she wanted.

“Sure about this?” he asked softly, searching her eyes.

She nodded, reached down and clutched the hem of her T-shirt. He watched, spellbound, as she drew it over her head and trailed it on the floor. Breath caught in his throat. He didn't care. He needed her more than air.

Mitch opened his arms, closing them around her quickly when she came to him. He reveled in the feel of her. Her breath rasped softly but urgently as her hands gripped his back, those long graceful fingers sliding sinuously over his sweat-slicked muscles. Her small, perfect breasts bonded firmly to his chest by the dampness of his skin. His nose sought the silkiness of her hair, breathing in the sweet clean scent of her.

He traced her slender body with his palms, at last slipping them beneath the wispy silk that only half covered her bottom. Her skin felt smooth as satin as he caressed her, pulling her tightly against him, only half assuaging the ache she caused.

Vaguely he thought of a bed, though he wasn't sure they would make it that far. Instead, he backed up several steps to the padded exercise mat and lowered them to it so that they lay side by side. He trailed one hand from her hip to waist and then upward to feel, at last, one smooth firm breast beneath his palm. Almost reverently he lowered his mouth to taste her there, to explore the small tight peak with his eager tongue. He drew on it gently, then harder, his own body echoing the shudder that rippled through hers.

He smoothed his hand downward over her flat abdomen and lower to the nest of curls that surrounded his final destination. Heat enveloped his fingers as he pressed them against her, sliding one into her with a slowness and sureness of pur
pose. Her resulting cry of pleasure almost ended his determined attempt at gentleness.

She moved against him restlessly, pressing closer, her hand seeking, finding, drawing a groan from him as she stroked and squeezed and pleaded with her touch. “Now?” he asked.

“Now,” she answered, the word more demand than acquiescence.

Mitch ravished her mouth, devouring her, loving her heady response, his mind completely focused on nothing but possessing her in every way humanly possible. His body fitted to hers in an automatic reflex. He sank within her as deeply and surely as she had embedded herself in his heart.

Sheer undiluted pleasure coursed through him, obliterating any worries of how this would end, what would come of it. There were no tomorrows, no yesterdays, only now, this moment out of time that would never be equaled again. Robin was his.

He drew back and thrust slowly, savoring the exhilaration, providing and relishing the sweet slide of joy, the promise of perfection just out of reach. Again and again, he gave and took, offered and demanded, waiting only for her cue to deliver all that he was.

Her pulse beat frantically beneath his mouth as he savored her neck. His teeth grazed her upturned chin, and she cried out, frantically seeking his kiss. Hot and wild, it went on and on. The taste of her essence, sweet wine and his own sweat mingled as he claimed her mouth.

Her body undulated faster, meeting his every move and attempting to increase his pace. He executed a particularly deep lunge and her breath hissed inward, her eyes closing tightly as if she would capture the feeling and hold it.

The sight and sensation sent him reeling. With a groan of surrender, he abandoned finesse and threw himself into motion. He slipped one hand between them and touched her, des
perate not to leave her wanting. Her body grasped him, shuddered around him and forced him into a climax so powerful and prolonged, he thought he might die.

Mitch groaned, the last sound he was capable of making, and collapsed.
Damn.
He didn't think he could move anything if he tried. Even his lips. They must be paralyzed in a permanent smile.

Robin sighed beneath him. He felt the intake of air and the soft, replete sound of her exhalation. A wordless compliment if he'd ever heard one.

Mitch finally managed to roll to one side so that she could breathe more easily. She uttered a murmur of protest when he disengaged their bodies, as if she had wanted him to stay.

Only then did it strike him that he had made the ultimate mistake, the worst imaginable lapse of consideration a man could commit in this kind of situation. Never once had the thought of a condom entered his mind. If he'd had any energy left, he would have pounded his forehead and cursed his stupidity.

Why? After nearly twenty years of having sex, he had never—not one single time—neglected to protect a woman he had sex with. And now, with the very woman he loved, he had—

The realization hit him right between the eyes, as powerfully as a fist.
Loved.
He loved Robin. Oh, Lord. And while she might come to him looking for a little comfort on a sleepless night, he couldn't expect her, by any stretch of his fevered imagination, to love him back. Ever.

And even if she should, through some quirk of magic, decide she did, what could he possibly do about it? Ask her to marry him? Fat chance. Even with a prenup so she'd be sure he wasn't after her money, she'd think he only wanted her around as a trophy.
Hey, look at me, guys, I snagged me a model. A wealthy one at that.
God, he wished she weren't
quite so beautiful. Or rich. Or mistrustful. He sure couldn't fault her for that. Not after she'd gotten mixed up with those two losers.

She also came across as a little insecure in some ways. Oh, Robin knew she was smart all right. And she had to know she possessed many other qualities in addition to her beauty. Trouble was, she didn't trust that any man would look beneath that facade to find the real Robin. Well,
he
had found her.