Lazar's Intrigue (The Jack Lazar Series) (3 page)

Jack
shrugged to himself and placed the ring in the car’s center console, vowing to
return it to Sarina as soon as he saw her again. After all, if the heirloom was
of significant value to her, perhaps it would provide incentive for her to call
him sooner. Not such a disagreeable prospect, he thought.

Jack
smiled as he thought about her, and he shifted the car into gear for the drive
home.

Antonucci…Antonucci.
I just know there’s a connection.

THREE

Jack
slept for just two hours before rising from his bed and heading to his study to
begin his research on the Internet. His curiosity was peaked earlier this
morning at the hospital by Sarina and her two associates, so the last thing he
could do was sleep. A man named Antonucci was being investigated by the DEA,
and while that would have been of no consequence to him under normal
circumstances, there was something oddly familiar about the name.

No.
It was more than just odd. It was downright disturbing.

If
he had heard the name before in passing, perhaps on the news or at a social
gathering, his reaction would be one of simple recognition. But he knew in his
gut that he and this Antonucci person had some sort of connection. But what? It
felt like a memory was hanging on the edge of his consciousness somewhere, but
it continued to elude him. Perhaps the Internet would provide the answers he
was looking for.

The
Google search yielded almost three million results, and Jack concluded he would
be able to narrow them down substantially if he knew the man’s first name. But
he didn’t, and there was no conceivable way he could find out. He added
California
to the search, but that only narrowed down the results to four hundred
thousand. So from here it would be a matter of culling through each link until
he came across something familiar.

He
quickly realized he would be ill-equipped for such a daunting task without a
cup of coffee and some breakfast, so he adjourned to the kitchen to fire up his
Jura-Capresso coffee machine and reheat one of the croissants he had bought
from the new French bakery down the hill in San Juan Capistrano. He returned to
the study a few minutes later with the right provisions and took his seat in
front of the computer again to begin weeding through the results.

The
links were easier to cull through than he anticipated, and he didn’t even have
to click on most of them since they clearly led to restaurants, LinkedIn tags
and a myriad of people or organizations that were not what he was looking for.

After
just a few minutes he came across a recent article in the business section of
the
LA Times
about a man named Enzo Antonucci, an Italian-born financial
mogul who had donated a cool million to the California Environmental
Restoration Society—the governor’s pet charity. The article included a picture
of the striking Italian man shaking hands with the Governor himself, and the
two of them looked like they were the best of friends. It was the kind of photo
most people have autographed and then prominently display it in a frame on
their desk.

Jack
studied the man’s face, his meticulous head of jet-black hair, the chiseled
features, and the power in his eyes. He instantly knew this was the man he searched
for, yet no matter how long he stared at Antonucci’s picture, the connection
between them was still elusive. He was sure he had never met the man before,
never did business with him, never even saw him on television, at least not to
the best of his recollection. What could it be?

Jack
leaned back in his chair, released a deep breath of frustration and took a
healthy sip of coffee. He had believed so strongly that this exercise would
help him solve the mystery, but all he drew was a blank. He carefully studied the
photo a final time, hoping there was something he had missed, and there was.

Several
people stood around the two men being photographed, but only one of them, a woman,
embraced the crook of Antonucci’s arm. Her head appeared to be purposely turned
away from the camera, and she shielded her face with her right hand, making it
impossible to identify her. But something else caught Jack’s eye. Something he
had seen just last night. On the woman’s finger, without question, was the ring
he had found in his car. There was no doubt about it.

He
leaned a little closer to the screen and studied the woman’s features, her
curvaceous body, the long sable hair and slender legs. No doubt, this was
Sarina Anapoulos. He would know that body anywhere. And for some reason she
didn’t want to be photographed with Enzo Antonucci.

What
was Sarina doing with this guy? Wasn’t he the alleged drug lord she and the DEA
had been investigating for the past two years?

Jack
thought back to the night before and mulled over the conversation he overheard
at the hospital. Did Sarina say anything that might suggest she was working
undercover as Antonucci’s girlfriend? Working undercover, yes. But as his
girlfriend? Well, the picture certainly suggested it. And she said Antonucci’s
men were chasing her down because her cover had been blown. But then, why did
it appear that the man who shot her made a mistake?

It
was equally plausible that Sarina was Antonucci’s true lover and she only
pretended to be a loyal DEA agent. After all, crooked law enforcement officers
come a dime a dozen these days. That would explain why she didn’t want her
picture taken at the charity event, as well as her reason for dropping the ring
in Jack’s car. If her associates had seen the expensive piece of jewelry on her
finger, they may have suspected something. A government agent’s salary couldn’t
possibly cover such a thing.

So
what was the truth? Or was there another possibility Jack hadn’t considered?

Then
there was the matter of Sarina’s flirtations. Was she really attracted to Jack,
or was it her standard modus operandi to get information out of men? If she had
an authentic relationship with Antonucci, why would she pursue someone else? And
if an alleged drug lord like Antonucci found out they were seeing each other,
what would happen to Jack?

No
matter how he looked at it, Jack knew he would be a fool to get involved with
this woman. The whole state of affairs was over his head, and there seemed to
be plenty of potential to get killed. It would be impossible to know whether he
could trust Sarina, or if just being in her company would draw fire from a
powerful, jealous criminal with his own private army. She existed in a world
with guns and violence and twisted morals—hardly Jack’s typical venue.

Still,
despite all of the perfectly good reasons to run the other way, just the
thought of Sarina made Jack’s heart beat faster and stronger, made his blood
flow stronger. The memory of her urged him to strip away the modern man and
reveal something much more primitive. If only he could make love to her once,
the trouble would be worth it. He could sense just by looking in her eyes that
she offered something he had never experienced. And the danger involved made
the notion seem even more exciting.

So
he had two choices. He could play it safe as usual and get left behind, or he
could accept these new challenges and experience life to its fullest.

Jack
knew it was time to change his ways.

FOUR

Dressed
in simple gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt that clung to his upper body like
paint, Jack slunk low in one of the huge lounge chairs in his outdoor living
area. He imagined the lecture his mother might have laid on him had he
demonstrated such dreadful posture as a child, but the pillows surrounding him
were so soft and blissfully comfortable that it was difficult not to eventually
slide downward into a fully reclined position. The only challenge was drinking
his glass of Scotch at that angle.

Jack
had yet to adjust to his new daily routine sans employment, which usually
entailed waking up whenever he felt like it, doing some Tai Chi, spending a
couple of hours sculpting his body at the gym, sparring with Tasagi three times
a week, and occasionally meeting with his industry contacts to look for another
professional opportunity. He had already been offered a dozen positions, but
none of them promised the kind of challenge he was looking for. So the
commitment he had made toward starting a new life was losing its luster, and he
was beginning to sense the answer wouldn’t be found in the business world.

Surrounded
by the luscious plants and trees in his yard, Jack took in a full breath of the
salty ocean air before downing another healthy swig of Royal Lochnagar Selected
Reserve. In some ways it was hard to imagine life could be better, but all the
extravagant trappings in the world wouldn’t make him feel less empty.

It
had been almost a month since his episode with Sarina on the beach, and she
still hadn’t called. How long does it take to recover from a bullet wound
anyway? Jack felt foolish that he had limited his out-of-town meetings to a
single day, or overnight at most, just to keep himself available for her. A man
confident in his own prowess, he felt uncharacteristically humbled.

His
eyes scanned over the printed words of
The Wall Street Journal
, but his
thoughts were so deeply distracted that he failed to comprehend anything. Frustrated,
he set the paper over the chair next to him, took another sip of Scotch and
sighed. It was unusual to feel so lost within his own environment.

He
rose from his seat to pace around the patio and gaze at the valley below before
proceeding inside the house to browse through the music on his iPod, which was
docked to his sound system. He toyed with it for a few moments until he heard
beeping sounds from the front of the house like those of a small foreign automobile.
He picked up his drink and carried it with him to the door.

The
front yard of Jack’s home spanned almost two acres in size, and its downward
slope blended with the majestic hills overlooking San Juan Capistrano. He had
built a circular drive last year to accommodate visitors, the perimeter of
which was appointed with exotic greenery, and by using the rather steep incline
from the street, the house was visually placed upon a pedestal, presenting its
striking contemporary design in a grand manner. Word around the community was
that it looked like a Guggenheim museum, and Jack couldn’t argue with that. He
hadn’t intended for the effect to be so ostentatious, but there it was.

Jack
opened the door nonchalantly, harboring no expectations other than to witness
the business of a neighbor or perhaps sign for an overnight package. Instead he
found a bright red Audi S5 Cabriolet at the apex of the driveway, just to his
left, and his mystery woman in the driver’s seat.

Sarina
sat motionless and smiling, a pair of dark sunglasses masking any message she may
have revealed in her eyes.

“Hi,
babe!” she bubbled. “What do you have planned for the evening?”

Jack
had yet to see this woman with her strength, and he was momentarily caught off
guard. “Um, nothing I can’t cancel for you.”

“Terrific!”
Sarina stepped out of the car and walked toward him as she pulled down her
sunglasses, making it obvious she was trying to get a better look. Without any
qualms, she lifted the front of his T-shirt with one hand and ran her fingers
over the ridges of his stomach with the other before letting the shirt back
down. Apparently satisfied, she placed her hands on his shoulders and drew them
down to his triceps where she gave a test squeeze.

It
was the first time Jack ever felt like he belonged in the produce department of
a grocery store.

“Mmm,
nice,” she said.

“I’m
glad you approve. Anything else you feel the need to inspect?”

She
looked up and gave him a wicked smile.  “Oh yeah…but later.”

“I
look forward to it.”

“You
should.”

“So,
Sarina. What’s the plan here?”

“Well,”
she said, “judging from the outfit you’re wearing at seven o’clock in the evening,
my guess is
you
don’t have any plans at all.”

Jack
narrowed his eyes. “It just so happens I have a dinner date with a really hot
brunette. She’s a government agent, too. You’d like her.”

“I
already do. She sounds like the perfect woman.”

It
was Jack’s turn to step back and scan her body from head to toe. He made no
attempt to hide it either.

Sarina
wore a short but sophisticated black elbow-sleeve dress that clung to every
inch of her body, and Jack was pleased to see how well it ornamented the sensual
curves of those breasts. Her shoes were sleek, calf-high black leather boots
with generous heels, and they helped her legs appear longer, smoother and more
beautiful than Jack had remembered.

“Like
what you see?” she asked.

“I
do. In fact, I was just going to start squeezing things.”

“Oh
really?”

“Yeah.
You squeezed
my
stuff, so I figure I’m entitled.”

“Not
true. Haven’t you ever heard of double standards?”

“Of
course.”

“Well,
this is one of them. As a woman, I can squeeze anything I want without asking. 
You, on the other hand…”

“Can’t.”

“Uh-huh.”

Jack
let out a playful sigh. “Well, that really sucks because you have all sorts of
goodies that were custom made for squeezing.”

“Do
I?  Like what?”

“Like
that perfect, heart-shaped ass of yours, for starters.”

“What?
This ass right here?” Sarina turned her back to him and tried to look over her
shoulder at it.

Just
seeing how the dress gripped her bottom shot pangs to his equipment. He also
noticed the faintest hint of a panty line trailing her hips, then nothing, which
meant she was wearing a pair of thong panties under there, and that just made
his condition worse. Oh, how he wished he could see those panties right now. On
the floor of his bedroom.

There’s
never a bucket of cold water around when you need it.

“Yes,
that’s the one,” he said. And let’s not forget your breasts.”

“Ah,
of course.” She cupped them with both hands. “I’m particularly proud of these,
you know.”

“As
you should be. Perfectly round, firm, lovely chocolate-brown nipples.”

Sarina
wrinkled her brow and tilted her head. “How…”

“That
sheer bra of yours. Once it got wet, well…”

“You
could see everything.”

“Right.”

“Get
a good look, did you?”

“Yes,
indeed.”

“While
I was dying in your arms?”

“Hey,
you look just fine to me now.”

“But
at the time…”

“They
were practically in my face, okay?”

She
laughed. “Okay, I forgive you.”

“Thank
you.”

“My
pleasure, baby.”

“Actually,
come to think of it, I didn’t get that good a look. So if you wouldn’t mind…”

“Mind
what?”

“Giving
me a better look.”

“You
want me to strip naked in your driveway?”

“All
the girls do.”

“Uh-huh.
Maybe later.”

“Really?
You’ll strip naked in my driveway later?”

“I
may show you my
breasts
later. If you’re lucky. Enough with the
driveway.”

“Right.”

“So,
are we spending all night out here, or are you going to invite me inside?” she
asked with playful indignation.

“My
apologies. Welcome to the house of Lazar.”

“House?
Looks more like a museum from the street.”

“Uh,
yeah, I get that a lot. May I offer you a cocktail?”

“I’ll
have whatever you’re having.”

“That
would be Scotch, neat.” He truly expected her to change her mind.

Instead,
she looked at him and smiled with appreciation. “Perfect.”

“Coming
right up.”

Sarina
followed Jack to the bar where he pulled the cork from the Royal Lochnagar and
transferred a generous pour into a contemporary V-shaped glass like his own. He
topped off his serving as well.

“Cheers,”
he said as he handed it to her.

“Indeed.”
She clinked her glass against his and brought it to her lips. “Wow. Very nice.”

“Nothing
but the best for my girls.”

“Again
with the girls, huh? You expecting any others to show up tonight?”

“Not
tonight. No.”

“Good.
I want you all to myself. At least
this
time.”

That
shot another bolt of sexual energy through Jack’s anatomy, causing his body to
flinch, and the words
ménage à trois
floated through his mind more than
once.

Sarina
smiled. “You okay?”

“Yeah,
it was just—never mind. You want to sit down?”

“Not
really. I’m just going to give myself a tour if you don’t mind.”

“Go
right ahead. But I’m happy to help. Really.”

“No
need.”

Sarina
carried her drink with her as she boldly moved through the house, appraising
the place as if the urban contemporary decor fit her expectations to a tee. She
held the Scotch in one hand while twirling her sunglasses in the other, and she
nodded her head in ostensible approval of what she saw.

Jack
casually trailed behind her, entertained by her little display. “How did you
know I would be here, anyway?”

“You
resigned from Benson Kohler, didn’t you?”

Jack
raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”

“You’ve
been meeting with a lot of people, but you still haven’t found the opportunity
you’re looking for, right?”

“Yes.
How do you know so much about me, anyway?”

“Well,
I had our research team do a little background check on you. In my profession
you can’t be too careful. I had to be sure you weren’t…you know…a bad guy.” She
gave him a smirk before heading upstairs to the bedroom as if she had studied a
floor plan of the house in advance. She paused for a moment to scan the room
before resting her glass on the nightstand and slowly nestling onto the bed. She
ran her fingers through the hair flowing over the side of her face and gently
brushed it behind her.

“Now,
how about that kiss you owe me?” Her smile was as naughty as it gets.

Jack
stared at her for a moment before throwing his hands into the air. “Sarina,
listen. Things are going a little fast for me.”

“Seriously?
What was all that verbal foreplay about?”

“Exactly
that. Foreplay. And I figured we’d do some more of that before we…you know.”

“Oh
God. You’re such a girl.”

“I
like to think of myself as a gentleman.”

She
huffed. “Either way, it’s not what I’m looking for.”

“Besides,
I’m kind of used to doing the chasing.”

“Ah,
now we’re getting to the heart of the matter.” Sarina rose from the bed and
pouted her lower lip as she slid her arms around Jack’s waist, looking at him
like he was a hurt little boy. “Have I stepped on Jack’s little ego?”

“That’s…not
it.”

“Yeah,
it is.” She pulled him closer and positioned her lips as close as possible to his
without touching, and she spoke to him in a soft, sexy voice. “C’mon, Jack,
doesn’t this excite you just a little? Haven’t you always dreamed about a woman
who would walk into your house and attack you without mercy? I’m just that kind
of woman. Forget all the control games you play with other girls and just take
me.” She stroked her hands along his arms and worked her way toward the waist
of his sweatpants, as if intending to rip them to the floor. “Please.”

Before
she could do anything, Jack grabbed her hands and sat her down with him on the
bed. “Sarina, please don’t get me wrong. I’m incredibly attracted to you, but
we need to slow down a little.” He stared pensively into the deep pools of
brown in her eyes, and noticed they were starting to burn. “Do you mind if we
have dinner or something? Maybe get to know each other?”