The Morning After (17 page)

‘Are you on your way out? I’ve just finished up a meeting near you, I thought we could meet for coffee and a debrief.’

Jake paused for a moment, his brow creasing. ‘Who were you meeting?’

‘I’ll tell you when you get here.’

Paul gave him directions. He’d know soon enough. Like a shark weaving through minnows, Jake strode towards the café. A five minute brush against the stunning redhead had been all it had taken to wipe all thoughts of the job from his mind, and even now the memory of her face made him wish he’d thrown caution to the wind and asked her out. He glanced up at the darkening sky. The smell of rain was in the air. He turned up the collar of his jacket and dipped his head down. It had been a brief encounter between two strangers in the middle of London. Nothing more.

****

Damn mobile phones anyway.

If things had been allowed to run their course, Tempest was sure the tall, dark and positively gorgeous stranger would have stayed and flirted some more. Maybe even asked her out. She had no illusions about her response; she’d have jumped at the chance to know him better.

She glanced at her watch, sped down the wide steps at the museum’s entrance and dashed into the lattice of streets leading to the tube station. Businesses had closed for the day, and the streets swelled with tired Londoners making their way home.

Her steps faltered. The man was just a few yards ahead.
If he turns around, he might think I’m following him
. She discarded the thought instantly. He wouldn’t notice her in this teeming throng, it was just a coincidence they’d taken the same shortcut.

Running footsteps tapped behind her, and she jumped out of the path of a tall, thin man in a beige raincoat, sprinting like an Olympian.

Suddenly, a white van turned into the lane and accelerated towards her gorgeous stranger. It pulled up with a screech and the side door slammed open. At the same moment, a huge man ran out from behind a pile of boxes haphazardly stacked in the lane, and shoved her stranger brutally towards the open door of the van.

Blood rushed into her ears, and her heart pounded fit to burst.

It was a mugging!

Tempest’s throat worked in panic. ‘Help!’

Her shout came out as a watery shriek. She swallowed hard and gave it another shot.

‘Help!’

The word whipped away in the wind as she began to run. The ridiculously high heels clicked on the sidewalk and the pencil skirt shortened her stride, so Tempest pushed it higher, not caring that it revealed far more than she’d normally consider decent.

Tempest’s chest burned with the effort of dragging in air. Pain ricocheted up her legs as they pumped faster. The scene that met her gaze was terrifying. Two men circled the stranger, as if preparing to attack.

Why wasn’t anyone coming to help him?

The men moved in for the kill, and her stranger landed a punch before one of the men grabbed at him, causing him to stumble.

‘Leave him alone!’

She dropped everything to jump onto the attacker’s back. Air whooshed out of her body in a painful rush. Their bodies slammed together and she clung to him, high heels swinging in the air. The self-defence course hadn’t covered this; it had all been about blocking an attacker, running away – not hanging on for dear life. And where were the good Samaritans? Despite the crowds, people hurried past with eyes averted as though from a family row.

The scrawny body twisted and turned in Tempest’s grasp, then the attacker bent suddenly. Her triumph morphed into dismay when she tumbled over his shoulder and the hard ground pounded her back.

Bony fingers dug into her upper arms. She wrinkled up her nose in disgust at the fetid smell of sweat. The man jerked her up, clamping a wet cloth over her mouth and nose. Then a fruity smell filled her nostrils instead. Tempest held her breath, and struggled in his iron grip. Her legs kicked convulsively, searching for a target. Surely someone would intervene and help her.

A fist thumped into her stomach. She groaned in agony, inhaling a lungful of sickly fumes. He tossed her into the back of the van like a bag of cement. Her hip jarred against the metal floor and fireworks exploded behind her eyes. The van shuddered at the weight of a heavier body, then the door slammed shut.

Her head was so heavy, she could barely move it. She traced her swollen lip with the tip of her tongue, tasting blood. Dizziness gripped, and her vision blurred. The engine gunned loudly, slamming her against the side of the van like a rag-doll. The tyres screamed, the van sped away, and everything went black.

****

Jake’s head was pounding like a jackhammer. His shoulders ached, and his hands were bound behind his back. He tugged, and the cold, hard metal of handcuffs cut into his wrists.
Well, at least I’m still alive
. It was small consolation as a blinding pain arrowed through his temples, but better than the alternative.

It was black as a moonless night. He breathed in the stink of damp, salty air. The only sound in the blackness was his own tortured breathing. A rotten, chemical sweet taste filled his mouth. They’d used a sedative on him. Probably chloroform.

‘Damn it.’

As well as the handcuffs constraining his wrists, his feet were bound together. He was trussed-up like a turkey, lying on his side on what felt like a narrow bed. The hard metal, without the luxury of a mattress, cut painfully into his ribs and hipbones. He grimaced, taking painful stock of his situation. Two days in London, hardly enough time to get into trouble – yet already someone had grabbed him off a London street.

His English team had done a fantastic job installing his groundbreaking alarm system in the museum. Someone must have snatched him in order to jeopardize it.

Jake groaned.

His mind was swimming, unable to focus through his pain, but the urge to escape gave strength to his abused body. There was a small window of opportunity before they came back. Swinging his bound legs in tandem, he angled off the shallow cot, shifting so his feet could hit the floor.

Deadened legs gave way, and he fell heavily, jarring his tormented joints on the concrete. He pulled in a tortured breath, listening hard. If there were anyone else in the room, the noise of his fall would have alerted them to the fact that he was awake.

‘Anybody there?’

His voice echoed in the blackness. His ears strained, then focused on the sound of tortured breathing. Like a caterpillar, he writhed across the floor in an undulating crawl.

The breathing grew louder. He wasn’t alone.

Angling forward, his face touched something warm and firm. A smooth naked leg, tied to a chair. He worked himself up onto his knees and edged up the body to find out if his companion was bound too. Without the use of his hands, it was a tortuous process. The only sensations he could garner were by feeling with his face. It was like being a swaddled baby. Only a lot more painful. Jake edged up over knees covered in material to find wrists tied together with rough jute rope.

He breathed in the unmistakable scent of woman.

‘Can you hear me?’ he whispered.

There was no response. The woman’s muscles were relaxed and she slumped, still under the drug’s deadening influence. He struggled to her bound wrists and investigated the binding with his mouth.

All the muscles in her body stiffened suddenly to life. She was awake.

‘What are you doing?’

The husky voice was tinged with fear.

Jake raised his head from her bound wrists and breathed in the warm, spicy scent of her perfume. His ears strained for any sounds beyond the room. Invisible electricity arced in the air between them. He could feel her panic grow like a living thing, threatening to break free. ‘I was trying to see if I could free you. I had to use my mouth because my hands are bound.’

She panted softly and shifted on the seat. A hushed sound telegraphed that she was trying to tug her wrists apart.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

Jake needed the woman calm and focused on escape, not frightened in the dark.

‘Tempest.’ Her body trembled.

‘I’m Jake.’

‘Are you the man they snatched from the lane?’

‘Yes.’

Someone had rushed to his aid and distracted the thugs for a moment. A woman. This must be her, although why she would put herself in danger for a complete stranger was a complete mystery.

‘We met at the museum, I saw you in the lane.’

‘You’re the girl from the lift?’

A vivid picture flooded his mind, accompanied by an unexpected burst of pleasure that he hadn’t lost her after all.

The tremors were stilling, but her voice was still high and infused with panic. ‘Yes.’

‘Can you move your arms at all?’

Her voice became stronger. ‘No.’ Her muscles strained against his chest. ‘My hands are tied together with some sort of rope. I can move them up a little bit, but I’m tied to the chair and can’t move my legs.’

Whoever had kidnapped him must have only brought one pair of cuffs. They wouldn’t have expected a second captive.

‘My hands and feet are bound too. I’m trying to free you,’ he said.

He worked on the ropes with his mouth again, feeling her body shudder through his lips.

‘I worked that much out.’ There was a smile in her voice. ‘I was out for the count. Is there any sign of the men who attacked us?’

‘No, they chloroformed us, then dumped us here. There’s a sliver of light in the corner which I reckon is the door, but there aren’t any windows.’

‘It’s quiet.’

‘I know. I’ve been awake for about half an hour and I haven’t heard anything except your breathing. They’ve cuffed my hands behind my back and tied my feet together with rope.’

Memories of the abduction flickered through his head. His fist had connected with the thug who’d rushed him, and then she’d launched herself into action. She would have been no match for those men. From what he remembered from the museum, she didn’t even come up to his chin. She must be crazy to have involved herself in this.

He didn’t even try to hide the disapproval in his voice. ‘What on earth did you think you were doing, getting between me and those thugs?’

‘Saving your ass, for one thing.’

‘That’s nice of you, sweetheart, but you don’t even know my ass.’

Through gritted teeth, she muttered, ‘I probably know it better than you think.’

‘You put yourself in danger and you shouldn’t have.’

Didn’t she have any regard for danger? His father had been just the same – a reckless character.

‘I’m not the sort of person who just stands on the sidelines and watches while someone is forced into a van.’ Her voice was sharp. Was she suspecting him of a lack of moral fibre? ‘I couldn’t live with myself if I did that.’

‘And now you’re tied up, god knows where.’ He shook his head in disbelief. He’d never put himself in danger for someone else. He knew better than that.

‘You could try and be a little bit more grateful, you know. I only wanted to help you. Instead of being critical, you could get us out of here.’

He felt her fists clench, and imagined if he could see, she’d have her pretty face twisted into a scowl.

‘OK, but first I need to loosen this rope around your wrists enough for you to get a hand free.’

An angry mutter. Like a stroppy teenager. ‘OK.’

‘I have to get closer.’

He manoeuvred himself into position between her thighs. Her breaths shallowed out when his teeth brushed the back of her hands, working the strands of rope with his teeth. The side of his jaw brushed her fingers, and they flexed convulsively against his lips. She hissed sharply.

‘Tempest?’

Was she in pain or had she heard someone coming?

‘Mmm?’

‘Everything all right?’

‘Fine.’

He lowered his head into her lap again, and she gasped as her knees flexed against his torso. He breathed out onto her fingers, and the answering tremble sent a flash of awareness through him. Oh, so that was it. The nuzzling of warm bodies in the darkness had affected her, just as it had him. They couldn’t see anything in the inky darkness, could only feel. It was a potent sensation, morphing fear into another, more exciting emotion.

He should ignore it, just leave it alone. But he didn’t. ‘What are you thinking about?’

‘How to get out of here, of course.’

Her body stiffened at his low rumble of laughter.

Teasing wasn’t fair, but the release of tension felt good. The pain tugging at his temples melted away. ‘I’ve loosened it. Try to pull your wrists apart again.’

She struggled with the damp fibres.

‘There’s definitely a bit of movement but not enough to free my hand,’ she grumbled.

‘It’s fraying. I’ll keep at it for a while and see if I can tease it further apart.’ She’d seen the men; maybe she could shed some light on their abduction. ‘Tell me what happened. Did you see anything?’

‘I was behind you in the lane and saw the whole thing. The gorilla was waiting behind boxes in the lane, and sprang into action the moment the van pulled up.’ She hesitated for a moment, then voiced the question which had been niggling at him since his senses swam into consciousness. ‘Do you have any idea why they snatched you?’

Jake raised his head, searching through the possibilities rattling around in his brain.

‘Money,’ he said flatly, ‘it’s always about money.’

‘Ransom?’

‘More likely for leverage. My mother is a curator in the British Museum. She’s in charge of the Egyptian Exhibition.’

‘Vivienne Delon?’

Jake wasn’t surprised by the astonishment in her voice. He took after his tall American father, and long years in the States had erased any trace of his childhood French accent. Yet it was so unlikely this reckless whirlwind of a woman knew his mother that he couldn’t keep the disbelief out of his voice. ‘You know my mother?’

‘I met her earlier today,’ she admitted. ‘In the museum. I’d just come from a meeting with her when I bumped into you outside the lift.’

A meeting with his mother? Maybe she was applying for a job. She sure looked the part, in tight skirt and killer heels. They had a large staff of administrators at the museum, although he wouldn’t have thought his mother would be involved at interview level. Teasing out the answer started his head pounding again. It didn’t matter anyway. What mattered was who had kidnapped them, and
why
?