Read Hunt Me (Love Thieves #3) Online

Authors: Heather Long

Tags: #contemporary, #Buddha, #erotic, #treasure, #suspense thriller

Hunt Me (Love Thieves #3) (4 page)

BOOK: Hunt Me (Love Thieves #3)
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“Well, at least I’m still in the game.” He sat forward, elbows braced lightly on his knees.

“Did you have some doubts you could keep up?”

“With you, Kit Kat?” His turn to be pleased. “None whatsoever.”

Traffic thinned as they rolled into the airport. He glanced out the window, considering.

“Are you a determined man, Jarod?” She exhaled the question.

“Very.”

“Good.”

They weren’t talking about sex anymore.

“Good?” He watched her from the corner of his eye, keeping his head turned toward the window.

The warmth in her smile dimmed, and sadness flickered through her expression. “Yes. Determined men don’t give up. They fight for what they want. They challenge those around them to be better, go farther.”

Really?
“Do you need to be challenged, Kit Kat?”

The limo rolled to a stop, and she set her water bottle down. The driver opened the door and let the noise of arriving and departing planes into the cool, dark interior.

“Yes, Jarod.” She brushed her hand against his leg as she scooted to the door and stepped out, purse around her arm. The driver reached in and claimed her other bag. For the barest of moments, the mask slipped and a vulnerable woman gazed down at him. “I very much need a challenge.”

As quickly as the glimpse appeared, it vanished, and she covered her gorgeous eyes with a pair of sunglasses. “Until next time. My driver will take you wherever you need to go.” She pivoted and walked away, her expensive heels clicking against the concrete.

The driver glanced down at him.

“Give me a minute,” he told the man.

The driver nodded and closed the door. Jarod thumbed on his phone and checked the report.

He’d cloned her phone while they rode. He chose calendar and looked at her flight plans. Shutting the phone off, he tapped the window. The door opened.

“Destination, sir?”

Jarod climbed out, his bottle of water still in hand. No sense in leaving it behind for fingerprints. He didn’t expect she’d run him, but his training didn’t allow for anything less. “I’m here. Turns out I need to fly to Los Angeles.”

The driver’s flashfire amusement told him he got it right. Los Angeles was exactly where Lady Hardwicke headed.

“Good luck, sir. You’re going to need it.”

He waved to the man and strode inside.

 

Credentials and a private plane waiting sped Kit through security. Her bag included a laptop, a digital tablet, and her current book. Everything she needed was either on the plane or at her hotel in Los Angeles. She’d sent her luggage ahead earlier in the morning before leaving for her meeting. She met her pilot and co-pilot at the gangway to her jet. They would file their flight plan and request a departure time. Stripping off her jacket, she walked on board the flying fortress her father had invested fifteen million to re-outfit as a luxury apartment for the skies. Dismissing her crew to their workstations, she closed the door between the working cabin and the bedroom.

In the bedroom, she hung her jacket in the closet with the collection of outfits ranging from the used and needs-to-go and the freshly returned and still in its plastic from the cleaners. Unbuttoning her blouse, she strolled into the bathroom and started the shower. Fifteen minutes later, she stood under the warm spray, rinsing off the day of meetings, and the growing restlessness. Finally, she could leave New York and finish the job that had taken her nearly two years to complete.

If she could have managed it, she would have bolted from New York months ago, but her father’s business commitments tied her to the city. The nervous knots in her stomach twisted tighter. She’d been running down the clock for months. What began as a simple effort to fulfill a dying wish had turned into an obsession—and clusterfuck—of epic proportions.

Anger rasped over her nerves, and she clenched her fists. The violent urge to pound them on the wall took time to drain away. Tears soaked her cheeks, but she turned her face into the spray and washed them off even as they fell. Tears of frustration. Tears of anger.

Tears of grief.

It didn’t matter. Lady Katherine Hardwicke didn’t cry—at least not in public—and she certainly didn’t bang her fists against the wall or rail against God. She’d chosen this path, and if she were at all honest with herself, even knowing where it would take her, she wouldn’t have chosen differently.

“Please hang on until I get there,” she whispered, half in prayer and half in plea. It was too late to shake off the melancholy, so she settled for scrubbing her face until her skin felt raw and her hair until it squeaked.

She let the excess of emotion sluice away with the soap and stood under the spray until the gentle chime of the captain ringing through to the apartment sounded. Shaking herself out of the reverie, she twisted the water off and slid the tiny door open. Towel wrapped around her, she flipped the intercom button.

“Yes, Captain?”

“We have clearance to depart in ten minutes. Are you ready for us to pull away from the gate?”

“Yes, thank you, Captain. I’ll be in my seat directly.”

“Yes, ma’am. We’re set to arrive in Los Angeles at 10:00 p.m. local time. Would you like to stay on the plane until morning?”

“We’ll see.” It depended on whether she could sleep. She would prefer deplaning immediately, picking up her car, and driving north. But it was better to make her decisions on the fly for the time being.

The pilot murmured an acknowledgement, and the intercom went silent. She toweled off and changed into a pair of plaid cotton pajama bottoms and a dark-green tank top. Carrying the brush with her, she chose a chair in the bedroom and strapped on her seat belt. When the pilot announced they would be taking off, she leaned back and brushed her damp hair.

Fifteen minutes later, they reached their cruising altitude and the seat belt sign blinked off. It was after eight o’clock local time, and hunger assaulted her. Her red curls were still damp, but she pulled them back into a ponytail. She would have to style her hair in the morning, but she didn’t need to bother on a flight where both attendants had known her since she was a pimply faced teenager flying back and forth to boarding school.

The scent of salmon and fresh coffee greeted her when she opened the door.

The man sitting at the table—set for two, coincidentally enough—sent her pulse rabbiting.

“Mr. Parker.”
What the hell is he doing here?
Little startled her and even less surprised her. Jarod Parker did both.

Twice in the same day.

First, when he flirted with her in the limo and she found it so difficult to maintain her distance and now here, on her plane—at altitude.

“Good evening, Kit Kat. Enjoy your shower?” He rose and circled the table to turn out the chair he obviously meant for her to sit in. He’d abandoned his jacket and the tie. The deep-amber of his dress shirt matched his warm-brown eyes to perfection. The shirt opened three buttons at the collar and revealed a hint of the chest beneath.

“Why are you on my plane?” She didn’t bother trying to retrieve the game right now. He had her at a complete disadvantage. She stood there without cosmetics, suit, or hairstyle. Her pajamas felt almost too sheer under the heat of his gaze. She suspected the shrewdness she’d glimpsed in him earlier was but the tip of a very deep iceberg.

“Well, I’m about to have dinner with a very lovely lady. Or, at least, I hope I am.” The corner of his far-too-kissable mouth turned up in a hint of play. “Of course, you probably mean why am I on board to begin with?”

She folded her arms and waited. Her insides jittered like a roadrunner on a caffeine buzz, but she kept her outward calm and focused. It didn’t matter about standing there barefoot in a tank top that didn’t disguise her nipples’ tingling reaction to his presence. It sure as hell didn’t matter if the first thought she had on seeing him was what he would look like without the shirt.

Warning bells clanged in her head. Their first encounter on the curb, no matter how he tried to play it, smelled of contrivance.

His presence on her plane—conspiracy theories bloomed from fewer facts.

Jarod held up both hands, palms outward, and circled around the dining table to the forward-facing chairs. He retrieved his briefcase from beneath the seats and clicked it open. He glanced at her twice, making sure she could see his hands at all times, and pulled out a folder.

The standard manila folder, with no names or labels to distinguish it from any other, was thick—nearly an inch thick.

“You left the Costa Rica project notes in your limo. I tried to catch up with you, but you were already aboard. I explained to the captain and showed him my credentials. He called Fitzhugh, who vouched for me. Since I also have business in Los Angeles, I didn’t think you’d mind the company…or the additional challenge.”

The plausible explanation threatened to take the wind out of her outrage, but it didn’t budge her suspicions or silence the clang of alarm in her mind. She didn’t like too many coincidences.

She held out her hand and said nothing. He offered her another smile, but not as easily nor with as much humor. He looked worried.

Good.

She carried the folder and retreated to the side to pick up a phone. “Captain, please ring me through to Miles Fitzhugh.”

The captain completed the call while she kept her gaze on Jarod. The folder contained exactly what he said it did. The facts and figures of the Costa Rican deal—a folder she had put into her bag in the conference room. She didn’t make mistakes in business, and she hadn’t opened her things during the limo ride.

He would have to be pretty slick to have filched it right under her nose.

Miles answered the phone on the third ring. “Fitzhugh.”

“Miles, it’s Katherine.” She assumed the smooth, mildly flirtatious tone she often used with her father’s older business executives—it placated and tempted at the same time.

“Good evening.” He sounded worried.

He should be.

“Yes, could you please explain to me why Jarod Parker is aboard my plane?”

The awkward silence followed by Miles’ pained cough told her he hadn’t wanted to agree to this, or was, at the very least, mildly embarrassed. She waited, allowing him a moment to gather his composure. Jarod leaned against the table, hands resting against it in relaxed fashion. But, despite his posture, his eyes narrowed and the corners of his mouth tightened.

“I’m sorry, Katherine. I should have warned you. Your father….” He hesitated.

Her father.

Dammit!

“I see. He put you up to this?”

Miles went silent, probably out of a thirty-year relationship personally and professionally with Lord Hardwicke. “In a manner of speaking.”

“It’s all right, Miles,” she soothed, repeating his name. It had always seemed to do the trick in the past, and this was no exception. “I’m sure Mr. Parker will be perfectly respectable company for the flight, and I appreciate your honesty.”

At the next stretch of silence, she let the old man off the hook. Her father’s interest in her marriage prospects had taken a deplorable rise over the last year. He’d teased her with a dozen potential matches at various parties across Europe. When she started avoiding him at parties, he’d thrown two at her via professional engagements.

She stared across the cabin at sexy candidate number three.

At least her father’s taste seemed to be improving.

“Have a good evening, Miles.”

“Absolutely.” Relief swamped the man’s voice. “You as well, Katherine. Until next time.”

They rang off, and she carried the folder to the table. Jarod straightened and held her chair out for her again. She gave him a long, studying look.

Setting the file down, she leaned back in the chair. The flight attendants joined them, opening the serving seals and pouring the wine. They were efficient and quiet, although Cindy, the older of the two women, gave her a wink and a thumbs-up behind Jarod’s back. The staff approved of her father’s efforts.

Too bad she couldn’t really enjoy them at the moment.

When they were alone, she picked up her wine. “You should understand, Mr. Parker, this isn’t going to end well for you.”

“Oh?” He lifted his brows.

“Absolutely not.” She sipped the wine. It didn’t matter he was sexy as hell. If her father thought sending every potentially advantageous businessman in her direction a good idea, then it would be better not to get his hopes up.

Or hers.

He ignored his wine glass and prodded the salmon with his fork. It flaked perfectly. But, then, it would. The staff didn’t know how to serve an ill-cooked meal. “I’m going to suppose it is another facet of our game.” He lifted the forkful to his mouth and nodded slightly as he tasted it.

“You may suppose whatever you like. I am not in the habit of letting others choose who shares my bed.” She swirled the wine in her glass. She hadn’t eaten since the boxed lunches during the meeting, and even then she’d only picked at her food.

He choked and coughed, reaching for the wine to wash down the bite. “I beg your pardon?”

“Mr. Parker, in all games, there is a time to drop the charade. Miles ratted you out.” She took a second, longer swallow of the wine and put it aside. The warmth spreading through her belly had less to do with the alcohol than her company, but she had better eat if she wanted to drink any more.

“And exactly what did he say?” The caution in Jarod’s voice brought her head up, and she stared at him.

The tension in his face returned. A muscle ticked in his jaw. The better tell was his hands, though. They went completely still, even as the knuckles whitened where he gripped the silverware.
I wonder what debt or favor Daddy is holding over his head. I’ll have to find out. Or, if he proves a nuisance, maybe I’ll let Daddy hang him out to dry with it.

“He told me why he gave you the authorization to be on the plane.” She cut into her own fish. “So enough with the games. It’s a long flight. You can take the sofa over there, and, when we land at LAX, you can be on your way.”

BOOK: Hunt Me (Love Thieves #3)
3.05Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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