Burning Intensity (12 page)

“I thought we had him solid on multiple charges?”

“Oh we do. That’s not what I’m getting at. His flat should have had
some
evidence. Discarded plans of attack, security logs, notes. Hell, who nowadays doesn’t have a laptop or computer of some form and Internet connections? It’s almost unheard of. We’ve missed something at his flat. The search was too fast, or the agents were tired and not thinking straight.”

“You want to go back there,” James stated.

“I’d appreciate your take on it all,” she agreed sweetly. “Just think of how wonderful it will feel to charge overtime for a simple look around the place. Besides, I bet you can offer some genuine insight.”

“You mean I won’t be completely ripping off the Agency?” he teased.

She laughed and stood. “I’ll cook you dinner one night this week. Your choice of meal. Think of it as incentive.”

“Mmm, you make me feel like I’ve been charging the wrong price for my services,” James murmured as he wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her close. El clung to him, pressing snugly along the line of his chest, loving the fact that she could do so practically at whim now.

Anticipation rose as he lowered his head by degrees until finally she lost patience, closed the gap between them and kissed him passionately. Their lips fused together, the world melting away. El knew she’d never get tired of touching James, tasting him, feeling him right then next to her every step of the way.

After a moment, they both pulled apart. El’s heart pumped harder and her face flushed as she caught the molten look in James’ eyes. The temptation to ignore her instincts, throw caution to the wind and ravish her lover here and now was strong. She pushed it down, reminding herself they had time—hopefully forever—to spend together, taking one another and indulging every chance possible.

Right now, they had a job to do.

Sighing with regret, she pulled out of his embrace.

“We need to move,” she said. James sucked in a deep breath, seemed to calm himself then nodded.

“I’ll grab my stuff. Let’s go.”

* * * *

“Is it bad that a part of me wants to offer to let you pick the lock?” El said as she twisted the key in Luke’s lock. She threw James a laughing look over her shoulder as she opened the door.

They’d swung by HQ to collect Calloway’s keys and sign the chain of custody form. El had hoped that they’d run into Robert, but he’d gone when they arrived. The thought of calling him again had crossed her mind, but they’d been working since very early in the morning and if Rob had decided he needed some sleep or downtime, El was reluctant to disturb that.

“Keeping my skills fresh is never a bad idea,” James replied. “But this is a standard door lock. Not only could I crack it in my sleep, but should I decide I needed the practice, I could do it on my own flat and not attract nearly so much attention.”

El chuckled as James closed the door behind them. She wandered around the neat, almost sparse flat to try to get her mind back into the game. She enjoyed working with James, teasing him and sharing this side of herself with him, but in so many ways he was a distraction Rob just wasn’t. El enjoyed it, but knew she couldn’t have James as her full-time partner. Her efficiency would fall through the floor, not to mention that chances were good she’d miss critical steps because she’d be caught up in the way that tight arse of his moved in his pants, or she’d get a head full of naughty fantasies from a casual smile he threw her way.

It was a quick way to get herself killed, and she had every intention of living a long, full life with this man.

A circuit around the flat didn’t show El much at all. Powder smudges and that slightly ruffled look overall showed a crew had already been through, but still the entire area felt temporary. This clearly wasn’t a home, but more of a transition, somewhere to sleep, eat, wash and get out of.

While James continued looking—El noticed he was careful to not touch any surface—she stood in the small bedroom, turned a slow circle and tried to figure out what she was missing. After she completed the glance around the room, she repeated it in the opposite direction.

This would be the space Luke felt most comfortable in, safest. It was instinct to rest, relax and sleep with the feeling of security. Most often people would hide things in the privacy of their bedroom, whether it be jewelry, money, dirty books or toys, whatever. It was human nature to use one’s private space to stash these sorts of things.

Something gnawed at the edge of her consciousness. El tapped a foot in a fast, snapping manner, trying to figure out what it was. Frustrated—feeling like she had a word right on the tip of her tongue but couldn’t place it—she searched the room herself.

She ran through all the obvious places—under the bed, beneath the drawers of the bedside table, under the alarm clock and in the back of the drawers. She opened the built-in wardrobe as James entered the room.

“Something’s off here,” she insisted. “I can feel it, I just can’t place it. This is going to drive me mental if I don’t work it out soon.”

As she pushed through the two dozen coat hangers one by one, she studied the three pairs of shoes lined up neatly on the floor. Sighing, she decided she’d need to feel the linings of the jackets, then the trousers. Not that Calloway could hide a laptop there, but maybe a key card, or some form of key. Hell, right now she’d take a scrap of paper with a fortune cookie with a philosophical riddle written on it.

“Well, that closet is off for starters,” James remarked.

El froze, looked around the inside of the closet. “What do you mean? I don’t see anything strange about it.”

“Look,” James explained patiently. He came up beside her, reached out his arm and roughly measured the depth of the closet. Leading her through the doorway into the adjacent bathroom, he then pointed out the shared wall.

“It’s shallow,” he admitted, “but there’s definitely some lost space here. This bathroom would definitely be deeper along that wall. Maybe half a foot or more.”

“A safe of some sort,” El said excitedly. “Or even just a hidey-hole. That’s fantastic. Perfect. Let’s hope Luke has a stash— Oh, fuck me blind, what if we’ve been over-thinking this all along? They had less than two hours to hide the painting. What if Luke didn’t trust anyone? If I had a secret safe, somewhere I knew no one else could find my stuff, sure I’d place a priceless painting there after I’d stolen it.”

Almost bouncing on the balls of her feet, she raced back to the bedroom and into the cupboard. James was only a pace behind her.

“It has to be here,” she insisted. “That makes so much sense. It’s the only answer that fits.”

Tapping the wall, she soon found a panel right in the middle just above eye level that was loose.

“Hang on,” James stepped up to her, exerting gentle pressure on her shoulder to push her back. “Let’s not rush in too blindly.”

Barely suppressing her impatience, El lifted up onto her toes and peered over James’ shoulder as he tapped around the panel before he pressed his face against the wall and squinted.

“No use, I can’t see behind the crack in the wood,” he muttered.

El desperately wanted to growl at him to just open it,
damn it
, but she had to concede that this was James’ field of expertise. She wouldn’t take kindly to him telling her how to organize a bust or run an interview. He didn’t need her to tell him how to crack a secret hidey-hole.

“Better hope there isn’t a fail-safe on this baby,” James said without even glancing back at her.

El blinked, her brain taking a second or two to register what he was saying. Surely he didn’t mean… “Wait, if you think we might be about to blow this place up—?”

“Ten seconds ago you were all but breathing fire at me, darling.” James smirked.

El opened her mouth silently, not sure where to even start with that. Before she could summon the common sense to urge caution, he removed the panel.

She squeezed her eyes shut, half expecting an explosion or blast of fire to stream out.

Nothing.

She huffed out a sigh, torn between annoyance and laughter.

“Well shit,” James cursed. El peered over his shoulder and gulped.

They’d exposed a keypad and thick steel door. El would have been thrilled had there not been a small square of soft gray-colored plastique adhered to the door and linked by numerous wires to a small digital display.

5:00 turned to 4:59 to 4:58.

El’s heart damn near stopped.

“Holy shit,” she cursed as she whipped out her phone.

“Don’t bother,” James said calmly, working his dexterous fingers nimbly at the keypad already. He withdrew a small console the size of a paperback book from the pocket of his leather jacket. Two thin electrodes snapped into the box and attached to either side of the keypad.

El watched, entranced—she refused to think of it as frozen—as James began typing a sequence of dizzying numbers with a blurring speed.

Not wanting to distract James, she thought for a moment about why she shouldn’t make any calls. With such a short period of time given to them, she decided it would be redundant. No way could anyone else arrive before the place blew up. Besides, mobile phones were ignition points, and El didn’t have a clue if making a call could set off the charge prematurely.

The amount of plastique looked small. Large enough to make this flat a smoking crater, she presumed, when the timer finished, but not enough to take out much collateral damage.

4:31, 4:30, 4:29.

El took a deep breath and returned her phone to her pocket. Beads of sweat ran down her spine. She calmed her breathing and emptied her mind. No use getting her knickers into a twist.

“The blast will destroy whatever’s in the safe, won’t it?” she said, pleased but shocked at how steady her voice sounded.

“I think that’s the intent. If Calloway wanted to blow half of London up, this isn’t how he’d do it. I figure it’s just a fail-safe. It’s a crude but formidable deterrent to anyone if they tried to pry into what wasn’t their business.”

“The Cezanne better be in here,” she muttered.

“Bloody hell, yes. You know, darling, you could wait outside. Three minutes is plenty of time for you to get that luscious arse to safety.”

El crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.

“I’ll pretend you didn’t just say that. Not only am I not leaving you here like some skanky whore, but this is my operation. It’s my responsibility to get the painting, not yours. You can always—”

“Don’t even suggest it. Neither of us want you to finish that sentence,” he growled. “Damned if I’m going to let a slippery amateur like Calloway beat me like this. Come on, you bitch, finish that sequence.”

El understood that he spoke to either the console or the keypad, not her. She grinned and tried not to focus on the digital timer.

3:17, 3:16, 3:15.

A bead of sweat slid down from James’ temple.

“I love you,” she blurted out. Embarrassed, she blushed and pressed her lips together. James cast her a second-long glance, his brow furrowed.

“Don’t joke about that. Not now, please.”

“I’m not kidding. I realized it earlier, while you were reaming my arse, actually, but I didn’t want to say it. I thought it might scare you, or you’d think it was the sex talking, not my heart. But I’m serious. I’m not a child, I know how I feel. And I love you. Adore you silly.”

James cursed a streak and shot her another look. He seemed exasperated, elated and frustrated.

“I love you to the point of insanity, which you’ve nearly pushed me to just now. Of all the bloody times to… I love you, El. Madly. Truly. Completely.”

El grinned, feeling bizarrely smug considering the circumstances. She didn’t need to look at the timer anymore. Instead, she rested her palm lightly at the base of James’ spine, happy to just have the small but intimate contact with him.

“Almost, almost, almost there,” he chanted under his breath. A digital beep sounded and for a single, heart-stopping moment she thought the plastique was about to detonate. A metallic click filled the air and she watched James swing open the safe’s door. El twisted her head to check the timer.

1:07… The numbers were frozen—stopped by the keypad being unlocked and thus deactivated.

She heaved an enormous sigh of relief.

James cupped her jaw and tilted her face up to his. They kissed slowly, tenderly. The passion was still present between them, but this was a relieved kiss of simple, sweet elegance.

“Too late to take those words back,” he murmured as they separated by an inch or two.

El chuckled. “I have no desire to take anything back. I might have preferred to wait a little, but more time isn’t going to alter how I feel for you. I love you, James Waters. With all my heart.”

“And I you,” he replied. They kissed again briefly, then James stepped away. He waved an arm at the open safe and indicated that she should have first look.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile, then eagerly peered into the shallow recess.

Three shelves were almost empty. A laptop sat in a corner with a few neatly bundled stacks of hundred pound notes. Most excitingly of all, a cardboard tube was propped in the corner, looking innocuous and innocent. El had to restrain herself from clapping her hands in glee like a child surveying an unexpected present.

“Oh boy, I really hope this is what I want it to be,” she cheered.

El turned to James, but didn’t need to ask. He already held out a pair of latex gloves. She slipped them on like a pro and picked up the tube. Popping the lid off, she then took a slow, deep breath. She couldn’t help but dance a little in place as she saw a rolled up piece of canvas.

Removing it reverently, with as much care as she could muster, El stepped toward the bed. She dropped the cardboard tube to the floor and unrolled the painting, spreading it out over the duvet so they could both examine the work.

The painting was created from bold colors. The entire canvas was filled with the hilly landscape of a park or perhaps a forest. Trees lined the edge of the canvas, with a dark or twilight shade of night filling the sky. A walking path cut north to south right in the center of the image. The background was predominantly in greens and browns. Couples on either side sat or lay together on the grass, but they were hazy, muted almost, and scattered across small nooks. Swiftly, El counted eight in total, but even to her untrained eye it was clear that these couples were just incidentals in the background.