Running on Empty (4 page)

A tall, gaunt man stood at the entrance to the room Sabrina had been told to come to at the sound of the chime. Slightly bugged eyes dragged down her body, and then he gave what sounded like a disapproving sniff. Extending his wrinkled, scrawny neck only slightly, the man intoned in a pretentious and laughably fake British accent, “Mr. Pierce will see you now.”

The Igor-like man pushed the door open, and Sabrina stepped into another world.

“Welcome, Lucia.”

Her smile as seductive as the viper tempting Adam and Eve in the Garden, she glided toward Reuben Pierce. He sat at a low table, leaning back against a long couch. Sabrina didn’t even let herself think about the times he had probably shoved the table away and used the couch for more than just sitting. She made a vow to herself that it would never be used in such a way again.

“I am pleased you accepted my invitation.”

“How could I not? It was uniquely intriguing.”

The invitation had been delivered by one of Pierce’s men. Not the usual discreet white card with a request for her to dine with him. Instead, the package had included a financial portfolio, photographs of his many houses, and a short but explicit list of expectations. 

She had to hand it to the guy, the financial offer was a generous one. Or so it would seem. She knew more than most people about his past liaisons. Many were no longer living, and the man responsible for their deaths reclined indolently against the sofa as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Before she left him, she planned to give him something to care about.

Extending his hand, he waved at the straight-back chair on the other side of the table. “Come. Don’t be shy.”

Relieved she wouldn’t have to submit to being on the sofa with him just yet, she gracefully made her way to the chair and seated herself.

As if her sitting had been a signal, servants holding trays with a variety of delicacies scurried around them. Sabrina knew better than to look at them to see if she recognized any of the young faces. Giving away her interest in anyone other than the man in front of her would have caused suspicion she couldn’t afford. 

“I selected a wide array of Spanish dishes I thought might please your palate.”

Sabrina took in the variety and smiled her delight. He was definitely trying to tempt her. Lucia St. Martine had been raised in a small convent on the outskirts of Madrid. The fact that she had no family was likely a mark in her favor. No pesky relatives to bother him when he tired of her and she disappeared.

In actuality, Sabrina Fox was born and raised in the hills of North Carolina and was as all-American as they came. The only thing she had in common with Lucia was the lack of relatives to mourn if something happened to her. She pushed away the pointless self-pity.

“How thoughtful you are, Reuben. Everything looks delicious.”

“I hope you understand that my thoughtfulness extends well beyond ordering your favorite foods.”

Her smile slow and coy, she asked, “May I?” and held her hand toward a small, flaky, meat-filled pastry. The flavorful spices wafting through the air created a pleasing culinary fragrance.

His mouth tilted in a pleased smile. He gave a nod of approval.

Biting into the delicacy, she closed her eyes and groaned at the flavor, only halfway acting—it really was delicious.

“I’m glad you’re pleased.”

Her eyes opened. Undisguised lust had turned Reuben’s semi-attractive features into something revoltingly evil. Satisfaction gave her a small inner glow. Using food to turn a man on was such a simple, easy technique. Declan had once teased her that she could make him come just by watching her consume a meal. 

Sabrina jerked her mind away from wherever it’d been headed. Declan again? What the hell? She had trained herself never to think of him during a mission. With several children’s lives on the line, this certainly wasn’t the time to loosen her restrictions. Becoming mired in the hellish memory of her past was best done at a time when she had a sparring partner close by. Grief could bring a surge of anger that only physical activity could assuage. 

Her thoughts solely in the present once more, she threw Pierce a look of approval. “It’s delicious.”

“Tell me more about yourself.”

She raised a shoulder in a feminine, careless shrug. “There’s not much to say. I grew up in a convent far from the city. I left when I was eighteen.”

“And though you don’t look much older than eighteen, I know your age, so tell me what you’ve been doing for the past seven years.”

Nice that her age wasn’t showing. Pierce thought her to be twenty-five. She had turned thirty-two on her last birthday. “I worked in various fields. Retail, secretarial, restaurants. Nothing really appealed to me.”

“And when did you decide to leave those careers and concentrate on pleasure?”

A smile, knowing and confident, tilted her full, lush lips. “When I realized how good I am.”

“I would accuse you of boastfulness, but I have heard too much to discount your words. You have a reputation unlike any I’ve known before.”

That was because her cover was damn good. “I was trained well.”

“Ah yes, I did hear that you were trained by the sensual mystic Arood Mendalmo in the art of bringing pleasure.”

Delight bloomed within her. Arood Mendalmo didn’t exist outside an impressive website and a phone number that when called went straight to an LCR facility. The receptionist who answered the phone was prepared to handle just one caller—Reuben Pierce. Pierce had called, inquiring about her training, and had been told that Lucia St. Martine had been one of Mendalmo’s most gifted students. 

Admittedly, Sabrina did have some talents in that direction, as her previous job had required knowledge of sensual arts and pleasing a lover. The man across from her would never have the chance to discover them. Being touched by this creature wasn’t something she could stomach. She once had the kind of physical relationship that most people could only fantasize about, never believing it could come true. That experience had spoiled her for anything less—another reason her personal life was a barren landscape. 

She gave Reuben a look of slight arrogance and extreme confidence. “I was my instructor’s top student.”

Reuben leaned forward and nabbed a green olive off a platter. Placing the olive at his lips, he wrapped his tongue around it and sucked noisily. Sabrina couldn’t decide if he thought such a thing was seductive or if he just didn’t know how to eat in polite company. Either way, he couldn’t know how disgusting he looked or sounded. 

“After you have been here awhile, I would like you to train others.”

“That wasn’t in our agreement.”

“I can be extra generous to those who go the extra mile for me.”

She hesitated as if to consider his offer and then gave an elegant nod of her head. “Then I would be happy to teach others.”

Looking as though he had expected nothing else, he pushed a plate toward her. “Have another pastry.”

Though tension wasn’t something she normally noticed, she could feel her nerves tightening. By this time, she had expected Reuben to make his move. Chatting with her as if this was a semi-normal date wasn’t something she had anticipated. She wanted to get on with the show. 

With that thought in mind, Sabrina lifted her right leg and slowly dropped it over her left knee in a sensual display no man could misinterpret. Her well-toned legs were, in her opinion, her best assets. Impossibly long and sleek, most men who got close enough never realized how much danger they were in until it was too late. She could wrap them around a man and literally squeeze the life from him. That wasn’t something she’d done in a while, but once she had learned how, the technique had become one of her favorite ways to subdue her prey. 

Reuben’s eyes flared with desire, and his breath became slightly erratic. 

Satisfied, Sabrina took a small tubular pastry from the plate, ran her tongue lightly over the length of it and then leaned forward, offering it to Reuben. He opened his mouth, and she placed it between his lips. 

He closed his mouth and chewed slowly. Patting the empty space beside him, he gave her what she was sure he meant to be a sexy smile. Unfortunately, he had a large piece of chicken stuck between his front teeth. 

Accepting the unspoken invitation, Sabrina slowly stood. Every movement a graceful dance of seduction, she went to him. Reuben scooted over to give her room. Sabrina lowered herself beside him and slid her long leg in a slow, sensual glide across Reuben’s. Looking as though torn between ripping her clothes off and continuing this slow seduction, Reuben made the surprising choice to continue their meal. 

He leaned back against the cushions. “Feed me.”

As Sabrina reached for another pastry, she continued to rub her leg against Reuben’s. And just in case his eyes wanted to wander to her hands, she bent closer, allowing him to get a glimpse of her second-best physical assets—her generous, creamy breasts. Assured that his eyes were focused on her cleavage, she unwrapped the pastry. Deftly unlocking the clasp on her ring, she emptied the contents into the mixture. The color of cumin, the powder would blend perfectly with the food. She’d tasted it once. From what she’d remembered before she passed out, it had a lovely smoky flavor. It was also one of the most potent sleeping powders ever created. One-eighth of a teaspoon would put out a two-hundred-pound man for at least six hours, sometimes longer. 

Quickly rewrapping the pastry, she turned to Reuben and held it to his lips. 

“You first,” he said.

Like hell.
“This one is for you. I’ll make another for me.”

He grasped her wrist and pushed her hand toward her mouth. “We’ll share.”

Shit.
“If you insist.”

Holding the pastry carefully, Sabrina took a delicate nibble. She’d been trained to withstand a variety of torture, both physical and mental, and though she had enough self-discipline to maintain control of her senses under extreme circumstances, at some point biology would prevail. If she ingested too much, it didn’t matter how much willpower she had, she would fall flat on her face and this mission would fail. Just this small bite was going to make her ability to rescue Catie incredibly hard. 

As she swallowed, her taste buds noted the minute smoky flavor, telling her that she had indeed consumed some of the drug. She reminded herself that she had been through worse. She had once rescued a young couple from Kent, England, who had been abducted on their honeymoon. The rescue had gone perfectly, and as far as she knew, the couple was still happily wed. Sabrina, however, still had the scar from the gunshot to her side, and the bullet was still inside her. If she could rescue two people on her own with a gaping, bleeding hole in her side, she could damn well stay awake and save Catie Conaway.

Thankfully, Reuben had a healthy appetite and practically stuffed the entire pastry in his mouth. Turning, she took his glass of wine and raised it to his lips. The drug would act fast, faster still with alcohol. She watched him take a healthy swallow and then another.

Reuben turned to grab another delicacy and knocked a serving spoon onto the floor. Throwing her a goofy grin, he leaned forward to pick up the spoon and kept going, collapsing with a solid thud.

She would have to be quick. Even though the drug would keep him out for a sufficient amount of time, she had no guarantee that his servants wouldn’t return to clear the table. She went to her feet and then just as swiftly sat back down. Crap, even though she’d taken only a tiny bite, the drug was already inhibiting her motor skills.

She gave a vigorous shake of her head and rose again. This time, she stayed up. She didn’t bother wasting precious time to try to move Reuben. If anyone walked in, whether he was lying on the floor or on the sofa wouldn’t matter. An alarm would sound, and the search would be on for her. 

Her focus was as clear as it was going to get. She slipped out of her heels and pushed them under the table. Running barefoot would be a lot easier than moving around in four-inch heels. With only a slight wobble, she made her way to the door. Twisting the knob, she eased it open, hoping to avoid any sound. Sabrina peeked out. Only one guard to her right, looking down at his hands. She closed the door behind her and then, feet silent, she stealthily moved toward him. He should have seen her out of the corner of his eye…why hadn’t he noticed her yet? As she drew closer, a snuffling snore gave her the answer. 

Sabrina gave the sleeping guard a not-so-gentle tap to his head. The man slumped forward, and she repositioned him so he would look as though he were still snoozing. And he was, only a little deeper than he had been before.

She scanned the broad hallway and located the door to the third-floor staircase. Even though LCR hadn’t been able to get inside the mansion until now, they had been able to access the mansion’s floor plan. After careful study, the majority opinion had been that Reuben would keep his captives on the third floor. It was out of sight of the many guests the mansion often hosted, but would give him easy access when he wanted them.

She was about to take a step when a wave of dizziness swept over her. Pulling in a deep breath, Sabrina blinked away the lightheadedness and dashed to the door. The quicker she got this done, the better for everyone.

She twisted the doorknob and tugged it open. Fellow operatives Aidan Thorne and Justin Kelly would handle the guards surrounding the mansion. Both former military snipers, the two men would have no problem taking out the seven guards on duty. 

She entered a small foyer that led to a stairway to the third floor. Another wave of vertigo attacked. Taking a moment, she leaned against the wall and breathed in deep, cleansing breaths. Feeling slightly better, she forced her legs to run up the stairway. The faster she moved, the better her chances of staying awake. She reached the top of the steps, and before a fresh wave of dizziness could attack, she gave her face a stinging slap, then another. The pain reenergized her—refocusing her thoughts.

From the plans they had obtained, there were four rooms on this floor. She headed down the hallway. All doors were closed, but a window had been added to each door, much like a mental hospital. She ignored the shiver of a memory.