I Spy a Wicked Sin (7 page)

Curious, she opened the e- mail and read the brief message:
Lily, Geneva and I look forward to the pleasure of your company next Friday evening. We also thank you for enticing Jude out of his lonely cave—the man needs a night out with friends. Best, Dev.

So, his buddy and benefactor was feeling her out. Fine. If he’d really been worried about Jude for the past few weeks, she couldn’t blame him.

Lily pondered the missive for several minutes before coming up with a suitable reply:
Devon, how nice to hear from you. I understand I’m in for quite a dazzling evening. I can’t wait to meet you both, and to visit your lovely gallery. Until then, Lily.

There. Polite but not gushing. Logging out, she sat staring at the screen, thinking over Sinclair’s words, reflective of something Jude said at lunch.

Was Jude lonely? Did he honestly feel imprisoned, or had the heart-wrenching statement been designed by a shrewd man to play on her sympathy? Somehow, she didn’t think so. He seemed to truly hate the idea of being pitied.

The story of his upbringing had gotten to her, too. More than she cared to admit. Nowhere in his file was there a single word printed about his past, and she’d be willing to bet Michael, being the head honcho, was the sole person at SHADO who knew the tidbits Jude had shared with her today. Which wasn’t so unusual. Many of the agents’ backgrounds were classified “need to know” only.

Lily’s thoughts turned to their lunch . . . or, rather, the dessert. So to speak.

Over and over, she relived his rapt expression as he’d mapped her body with those big hands. Like he’d discovered some sort of priceless treasure as he explored her face, skimmed her thighs, pinched her nipples. The way his brow furrowed as he concentrated on bringing her pleasure while denying his own.

No man could fake the joy she’d seen on his striking face. He was a study in contradictions, thwarting her analytic brain and negating the damaging information from Dietz.

“Come on, Lily,” she admonished herself. “Just because he doesn’t remember he’s the twenty- first century’s answer to Lex Luthor doesn’t mean that man isn’t hiding under the surface, waiting to pounce.”

If he remembered, she shuddered to think what might happen.

Then again, perhaps some corner of his tattered mind recalled more than anyone knew. Including Jude.

Whether he was reformed or not, she had a job to do. He was still guilty of a horrible crime. Historically, even the most heinous of killers tended to possess magnetic personalities. The moth-to-the-flame effect.

She’d have to be damned careful not to get zapped. Pushing from her chair, she walked to the office door and scanned the hallway. Empty. No voices or noise of any kind, which meant Jude and Liam were off doing their own thing. She had the office to herself.

Time to begin. Turning, she perused the walls, running the layout of this wing through her head. Every SHADO agent she knew, at least the mobile ones who went into the field to handle the dangerous stuff, had a secret “war room.” A reinforced space that held weapons, computers, disguises, passports, and all sorts of fake IDs. Jude had such a room. But where was it hidden?

Not here. This large space was a corner office with only one inside wall, the workout room on the other side. She hadn’t expected it to be that simple, finding it on the first go. She had a hunch it would be located closer to his private quarters upstairs where it was more defensible, rather than on the ground floor.

Just to be sure, she ran her hands over the panels, checked the seams. Knocked quietly, testing for hollow places. He probably kept a small hidey-hole for emergencies as well, and if so, she’d find it.

But she wouldn’t find it here. The walls were solid. Her attention strayed to his desk and she lowered herself into his chair, examining the excellent craftsmanship. The piece was an antique, an expensive one if she had her guess, ornate and loaded with drawers. Exactly the sort of old relic that might contain a hidden compartment.

But if it did, she couldn’t locate a mechanism to spring it. Blowing out a frustrated breath, she began opening drawers.

Every one empty except for the usual drawer crap. “Goddammit!”

“What are you looking for?”

Jerking upright, heart pounding, she met Liam’s cool, appraising gaze. “Jude’s appointment book,” she replied, meeting his stare evenly. “He told me to make myself at home in here and set up to start working.”

“Oh.” His expression cleared and he slouched against the doorframe, posture relaxing. “I’ve got his planner. I’m the one who’s been helping him until someone else could take over, remember? I’ll get it for you.”

“Thanks. I can’t do much without all of the information I need. I already have more than fifty messages in my in-box, and a third of those are dates I need to confirm with Jude.”

“And you can’t take care of those until you cross- reference what he’s already got on the agenda.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I should’ve left it in here for you before you arrived.”

She waved a hand, vacating Jude’s chair. Her runaway pulse began to calm. “No sweat. Just leave it on my desk when you get a second. I doubt I’ll get much work done today anyway.”

“In that case . . . would you be tempted to lounge by the pool with me?”

Her gaze swept appreciatively from his sleepy gray eyes fringed with black lace, down his lean body to slim hips and long legs.
Gee, let me think.

“Very. Would Jude be interested in joining us?”

He shrugged. “Maybe later. He gets lost in another world when he’s working in his studio and doesn’t typically like to be bothered.”

“He certainly didn’t seem to mind my walking in earlier,” she remarked, thinking of his tryst with Tamara.

“Was the door open?”

“Yes.”

“Then all’s fair game. Jude’s rule.”

“No matter what he’s doing?”

A dimple appeared at the corner of his sexy mouth. “Or who.”

“From the mischievous expression on your face, I wonder exactly how many times you’ve found the door open.”

“At least as many times as I’ve been the one behind it.” He ran a hand through his black hair, causing it to fall around his face in attractive disarray. “Why don’t we continue this conversation by the pool with something cool and potent to drink?”

“Give me ten minutes to find my suit and change,” she said, giving him a smile. “Then I have lots of questions for you.”

“Well, I have lots of alcohol, so we’re good.”

Lily hurried to her room and located one of her best bikinis, her mind filled with stuff she might be able to pry from Liam—especially if his refreshment loosened his tongue. The younger man seemed to be pretty open, but she’d take every advantage she could.

The file hidden in her closet contained valuable information about Jude as an agent, but was almost useless concerning his daily life at the estate. An omission she found troubling and intriguing. Who better than the resident boy toy to get the lowdown from?

Once she’d changed into a suit that was made of nothing more than three microscopic red triangles, she searched for sunscreen among her belongings and couldn’t find it. Giving up, she grabbed a thick towel and headed to the pool.

Liam wasn’t there yet, so she took the opportunity to appreciate the view. A momentary punch hit her swift and hard when she reminded herself Jude could no longer see all this. The huge, sparkling pool edged by elaborate stonework and a waterfall, the gardens overflowing with colorful flowers, the outdoor kitchen and bar area. Such a waste.

But then, he deserved what he’d gotten, not to mention what he had coming. Didn’t he?

Yes, he did. He’d betrayed the citizens of the United States and put several allies in grave danger. She’d best not forget that.

Liam arrived with two glasses, a pitcher, and a big smile. She did a double take at his scrumptious body clad in only swim trunks with a towel slung over one bare shoulder—the man might be lean, but he was nicely muscled, tanned, and toned. Had a smooth chest graced by two perfect, bronzed male nipples and an abdomen cut by a master sculptor. Mouthwatering.

“Pink lemonade?” she asked, hoping he didn’t hear the croak in her voice.

He set the glasses and pitcher on a small table between two padded loungers. “Yep. With an extra kick. Make yourself comfy.”

She settled in the lounger, squinting up at him. “Do you have sunscreen? I couldn’t find mine.”

“Sure do.” He spread the towel on his chair, nodding toward a nearby building. “Got some in the pool house. Be right back.”

He trotted off, giving her the opportunity to view his fine ass in action before he disappeared into the building. A minute later, he returned with a blue tube in hand. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” She took the sunscreen from him and laid it on the table for the time being, turning her attention to the drink. She picked up the slightly fizzy pink concoction and brought the straw to her lips, taking a tentative sip. “Oh, that’s good! So, what’s the kick?”

His dimple deepened. “Beer and vodka.”

She coughed. “What? You’re not serious! Those two words in the same phrase sound completely disgusting.”

“Totally.” He laughed at her pinched expression. “My friends and I dubbed it Fuck-Me Punch. ’Cause a couple of glasses of that and you’ll wake up trying to figure out where your clothes are.”

She took another sip. “It
is
good. You can’t even taste the alcohol. Weird.”

“Which is why that recipe can sneak up on you. I’ll have to watch your intake or you might rip my shorts off.”

“You are incorrigible. I have a strong feeling you and Jude are dangerous when mixed.”

“You’d be right.”

She eyed him as he took a few swallows of punch. “Indulge me on something?”

“If I can. Shoot.”

“Give me some insight on Jude. Tell me who this man is to you, to those around him.”

The happy mood surrounding Liam faded along with the spark in his pretty eyes. “Which Jude would that be? The powerful force of nature who first hired me? The cold, distant stranger he became last year? Or the lost, vulnerable soul I brought home from the hospital? I’d hardly know where to begin.”

His palpable anguish tore at her heart. “Any of them. All of them.”

He looked away from her, staring out over the gardens. “I wish you could have known him in the beginning,” he said quietly. “Jude was always so sure of himself. On top of the world and confident of his place in it. Then those mysterious trips become more and more frequent. He’d come home exhausted and strung out. Depressed. He’d shut himself in his studio for days after he returned, and his paintings became angry. Violent.”

“Can I take a look at those particular works?”

He glanced at her in surprise. “I can’t imagine why you’d want to, but you can if you go to Très Geneva gallery. Jude completed five of those hideous things before the accident and his
buddy
Devon Sinclair sold three of them for more than a million each. Dev displayed the other two and refuses to part with them. Says they’re important works from Jude’s ‘transitional period,’ whatever the hell that means.”

Do I detect a hint of animosity toward Sinclair?
Interesting.

“And his work since the accident?”

“He’s still struggling,” Liam said sadly. “It’s early yet. His raw talent survived and anyone with a practiced eye can recognize the one he’s managed to finish is a St. Laurent, but . . .”

Lily reached across the table, laid a hand on his arm. “I understand.”

“Really? I’m not sure anyone can. No one except me was here when I brought him home. He shut himself in his bedroom and hid for days. Wouldn’t let me in, refused to eat. He was so alone, broken, and confused, and I didn’t know what to do, how to help him. Those were the most difficult few weeks either of us had ever endured.”

“But you both made it,” she pointed out, wanting to comfort him. “Based on what you’ve told me, he’s come a long way.”

“He’s got a long road still, but yeah. I’m starting to see a glimmer of the man I first knew, the man who let nothing stand in his way, and it’s a damned fine thing to witness.”

Retracting her hand, Lily considered her next words for a long moment. She decided to probe a bit, gauge Liam’s reaction. “Do you love him?”

Liam gaped at her, eyes wide. “Jude? No. I mean,
yes
. But as my best friend, not in the romantic sense.”

She gave him a soft, encouraging smile. “You two play together, though, and I can see how close you are. Doesn’t that blur the lines of friendship?”

He flopped back in the lounger, a smile curving his lips, good humor restored. “Not for us. We’re great friends, with benefits. I’d do anything for him and I know for a fact he would for me, too. It’s just . . .” He waved a hand idly. “You can’t put two highly sexed guys like us together on a daily basis and not have a nuclear reaction on occasion.”

Yum. “Tell me more.”

Liam turned his head to squint at her, expression amused. “As you might have guessed, he’s dominant, which appeals to my inner slut. He fucks like a dream, especially when he’s primed to play a little rough.”

The image of those two beautiful men playing together seared itself into her brain. And the image made her squirm—in a good way.

“Do you share lovers?”

“Sometimes. I have a few friends in the city who hang here once in a while, and then there’s Jude’s models. It’s never dull, for sure.”

“You’re lucky,” she said, almost to herself.

“How so?”

Her gesture encompassed their surroundings. “You have all of this, a hot best friend who shares your open lifestyle, your freedom. You have everything.”

He slanted her an odd look. “But so do you. All of this is yours now, too.”