Flirting with Danger (8 page)

Miles later, they drew to a halt at a red light. Skye leant forward and spoke in Jack’s ear above the rumble of the engine.

“We need to go to my place,” she told him. Jack shook his head and cast a quick look at her, seeming to think she was joking. Skye stared at him soberly, her silence heavy between them.

“They’ve been tracking your phone, they knew the registration and make of my bike. Darling, the only thing we are doing right now is muddying the track between them and us, storing my motorcycle in a random garage and paying cash so they can’t trace it and then we’re going under and hiding out until we get some answers.”

Skye stirred restlessly.

She was scared. She was exhausted. She was sick and tired of death, destruction and decay following her around like a shadow.

How the hell did her father cope with this as a living and not go completely insane?

“I’m not asking that we stay there, nor am I suggesting we linger, but I’m not being funny. I need to go to my place and pack a bag of things. A change of clothes for starters, a shoulder holster my father bought me for my last birthday and a few possessions I will not let these bastards steal from me.”

“Darling—”

Skye cut him off before he could try to talk her out of it.

“This isn’t a request, Jack. I know I probably haven’t struck you as the most courageous, blasé or stable person in the half day we’ve known each other, but I’m not some weepy virgin who can’t handle the reality she’s given. I know my limitations and I don’t plan to play hero here. But this is not negotiable. Either you agree to take me to my flat for a few minutes so I can collect a single backpack of belongings, or I will get off this bike right here and now and make my own way there.”

“Bloody damned stubborn-arse Adams family genes,” Jack cursed under his breath. “Should have known you’d be exactly like Victor when he got some maggot-brained idea stuck in his head.”

Despite his harsh words, Skye smiled. They were venting, no true anger lay behind them and his tone was resigned, not disgusted.

“If you take a right at the second set of lights coming up we can go through some of the back streets and save some time,” she suggested sweetly.

Jack sighed.

“What’s your address?”

Skye tried hard to not let winning the argument go to her head. It was fairly small as things today went, but she felt immeasurably better for it. She gave him her address and mentioned the main landmarks near her small flat.

“Only my father and half a dozen people know where I live. Dad pulled some strings and so most of my bills and other assorted documents show my work as my residence. It’s as untraceable as humanly possible.”

Skye leaned into the turns as they wove through the city streets. Her body glided fluidly and thrummed along in time with the hum of the engine. In the last day she had discovered a whole new world of pleasure with Jack, but she had to admit she loved his bike. It was a form of shared foreplay beyond anything else in her experience.

“I still don’t like going somewhere so easy to ambush you,” Jack insisted stubbornly. Skye leant forward and pressed a hot kiss to his cheek. She flicked her tongue teasingly out to stroke over his skin and nipped him with her lips, working her way down his throat until he began to pant for breath.

“I’m grateful,” she replied throatily after pulling back to speak into the shell of his ear. “Why don’t you focus on thinking of somewhere safe for us to crash for the night? I don’t know about you, but I could do with a hot shower, a welcoming bed and a few hours’ sleep. Of course, that’s only after I explore every inch of your body with my fingers, lips and tongue. Then I want to feel your cock penetrate to the depths of my pussy at least another few times before we get some well-earned rest.”

“Don’t I get to explore every inch of your delicate skin with my lips, teeth, tongue and fingers?” Jack teased.

Skye grinned at him as he cast her a quick, sexy smile over his shoulder.

“If you have any strength left after I’ve had my way with you, I might be open to the possibility of letting you have your way with me,” she promised huskily. Jack winked at her.

“I think I can manage,” he laughed and indicated for another quick turn.

Burying her head into the warmth of his leather-jacket-clad back, Skye tried hard to stem her laughter, love overflowing in her heart for this gorgeous man.

Chapter Five

Twenty minutes later, Skye surveyed her bedroom. Jack stood impatiently out in the living area, halfway between the door and the window that looked out over the street. He had barely said more than half a dozen words to her since she had let him in. Every few seconds he went to peer out of the window and study the people on the street, then paced back to the door to listen intently for anyone coming. Forwards and back he moved like a sentry.

Knowing a lost cause when she saw one, Skye had packed a few changes of sexy underwear—a girl needed to be prepared—a complete change of clothes and a few necessary toiletries.

She quickly changed out of her grimy clothes and into a clean set of see-through red lace knickers and a matching bra, a dark, forest-green, long-sleeved cotton top, a well-worn pair of pale blue jeans, fresh socks and a warm, woollen, burgundy jumper. It took her a minute to choose between some sexy leather boots and her new pair of trainers. Finally she picked the trainers. She could run easily in them should the need occur. Considering the last few hours, she felt the chance of having to make a run for it was looking probable.

Sadness tugged at her heart as she looked around her tiny bedroom. Knick-knacks, well-loved books, bits and pieces of her life spread out all around her. Knowing Jack wouldn’t give her much longer, she went to her small, cheap wooden jewellery box. She put on the thin gold chain with the butterfly charm on it that her father had given her a few years ago.

It was one of the few gifts she had received after they’d become far closer. Her father had always insisted that the charm reminded him of her, coming out of her cocoon and turning into a beautiful, vivid, free creature who could do anything. His words had touched her, as had the gift. She treasured it.

She also put two bracelets, a brooch and a ring that had been her mother’s into a zip-up compartment in the inner lining of her bag. While she didn’t like to leave any of her other personal effects behind, she knew she couldn’t bear the thought of those being stolen or broken.

Out in the main room she lamented the lack of time. She couldn’t pack up her bookcase full of books and she hated to leave them. Steeling herself, she forced her hand to zip up the backpack and slide it on to her back. About to tell Jack she was ready, her eyes fell on the two small photo frames that sat on her mantelpiece.

The photo on the left was a candid but stunning photo of herself and her father.

A little over eighteen months ago they had gone out to a very special dinner to mark the fifth anniversary since she had arrived at his hospital bed in Helsinki. Over a sumptuous dinner they had talked intimately, laughed and drunk a ruinously expensive bottle of excellent wine her father had purchased for just that occasion. Without actually speaking directly of it, they’d both celebrated the event that had not only brought them closer together, but had also saved their relationship as father and daughter.

Towards the end of the night the restaurant owner, a friend of her father’s, had brought his son to their table with his digital camera, insisting that such a joyous evening deserved a keepsake. Victor had come around behind Skye, wrapped his arms around her shoulders and they had leaned into a close hug. They’d both smiled with obvious, genuine warmth. The picture was vivid, living proof of how expressive and loving they had become since that fateful night.

The photo on the right was far grainier, older and evidently from a different era altogether. Shot at the beach on a warm summer’s day, a six-year-old Skye frolicked in the water with glee. She obviously had no intentions of coming out of the sea any time soon.

Lucy Adams stood at the edge of the water, a bemused smile on her face, an enormously large-brimmed hat shading her pale, delicate skin, but not hiding her classically beautiful features. Victor stood between them both, tall and proud. Despite the relaxed set to his shoulders—looking very much like a man on holiday—it was clear to anyone who studied him closely that he stood ready to dive into the water and rescue Skye should she get into trouble.

The photo of herself and her father was the only decent shot she had of the two of them since the change in dynamic of their relationship. The negatives of the photo from the beach had been lost years ago in a move. It would be difficult if not impossible to replace either of them.

Skye unzipped the backpack and gently placed both frames in amongst her clothes so that the glass wouldn’t shatter and possibly tear the pictures.

“You look amazing in both pictures,” Jack commented while continuing to stare out of the window. “You glow with a beauty I’ve never seen in another woman in the picture with your dad, and that shot of you and both your parents at the beach shows just how much courage and guts you still have to this day. I was planning on suggesting you add them to your bag myself.”

“Thanks, that’s a sweet thing to say,” she replied, touched.

“I’m loath to ruin this moment, but I’ve been thinking about that birthday card from your father,” Jack said as he turned around to face her. Skye frowned and glanced at the mantelpiece where she had dropped her post after collecting it on their way in.

“My card? But we felt the envelope. There isn’t the indentation which would signal a key being in there.”

“I’ve got a feeling,” Jack insisted in a quiet tone. “Humour me, please, Skye.”

Skye paced over to the mantelpiece and gathered the handful of envelopes. Sorting through them quickly, she shoved the assorted bills and notices into her bag and studied the thick, cream-coloured envelope. Her father’s distinctive, neat handwriting lettered her name and address across the front. There was no return address, but it had been postmarked almost a week ago in Germany. Skye nibbled her lower lip.

“My father posted this almost as soon as he arrived on his mission,” she commented. She carefully slid her finger into the back flap of the envelope and prised it open. Pulling the card out, she opened it carefully, but found nothing inside except the greeting her father had written.

“To the most amazing daughter a man could hope to have. You have always been the sun and moon in your mother’s and my world. Our love for you is as endless as the ocean. My miraculous Skye, never doubt I love you more than life itself.”

Skye felt tears well in her eyes as she read her father’s words. He’d signed it ‘Always, Dad’. Her heart pounded. Her father always had protected her, watched over her, even when she’d thought he didn’t pay attention to anything but his stupid ‘important job’—she now knew better.

“Hand me your beach photo,” Jack said. Skye blinked her eyes hard to get rid of the tears. It only took her a second to put two and two together.

“You think my dad is even more paranoid and has more contingency plans than a mastermind, too.” She ignored the faint wobble of emotion in her tone. Skye closed the card and sucked in a quick breath, as if bracing herself.

Regardless of the double meaning, the words he had written meant an incredible amount to her. She wanted to keep this card and cherish it.

Skye placed the card inside her backpack, unwilling to let it and the extremely subtle clue fall into anyone else’s hands. She pulled out the framed photo of herself with her parents that day at the beach. Turning it over as Jack hovered, she carefully unhinged the cardboard backing of the frame and removed it.

A large, folded piece of tissue protected the back of the photo from being indented by the small key her father had placed there for safekeeping.

“Well, maybe I shall have to stop teasing Dad about his paranoia and addiction to contingency plans. This time it might have paid off,” she said in awe.

She took the key and held it out to Jack. He shook his head.

“No, darling, you keep a hold of it. Your father left it for you, not me.”

Skye slipped it into a pocket of her jeans and carefully put the backing on her frame, returning it to the safety of her backpack. Slinging it over her shoulders, she took a final look around her small flat.

“Okay, I know how on edge you are. I’m ready to go if—”

The phone on the kitchen bench rang, jangling her nerves. Jack spun around, his gun steady in his hand as he levelled it in the direction of the phone. A heartbeat passed, the phone rang again and Skye huffed out a small laugh, more nerves than actual humour.

“Please don’t shoot it—the way trade people charge nowadays I can’t afford to renovate my kitchen.”

Jack shot her a bemused glance and holstered his weapon. She could see in the tension that vibrated along the line of his muscled body that he was on edge. Making a snap decision, she decided not to tell him of her own fear. Practically no one had this number. Her landline almost never rang. Everything came to her now-destroyed mobile.

Her father knew the number.

Hope and fear surged through her body. She ran into the small kitchen nook, reaching for the phone and praying she hadn’t left it too late. Snatching up the receiver, she huffed out a breath, caught between hope and fear.

“Daddy? Daddy, are you there?”

Her entire focus was on the other end of the line.

When he spoke to her, she trembled. Hearing his voice, the familiar, soothing tone reassured her he was fully in control, calming the quavering deep inside her soul.

“Sweetheart, I need you to listen to me. You need to get out, go somewhere and let me handle this. Everything will be fine but you can’t let them use you for their own evil purposes. Do you hear me? Don’t—”

A thump followed by a grunt of evident pain followed.

“Daddy? I can’t do that, you know that. I’m not alone, Jack’s helping me. I’m not going to leave you there. You’d never even consider that if our positions were reversed.”