Wealth

Wealth-4

The balding dark-skinned guy looked back in his mirror, something like terror in his eyes.

“OK, not want problem,” he said.

“Me neither. Never play with matches—that’s what my mum always told me. Should’ve listened.”

Kaitlyn kept her eyes and ears open as she scrambled to make sense of what had happened. Randolph Quinn was at her side, seemingly untroubled. He turned his warm eyes to her and without any sort of preamble took her hand. His grip was steady, his hand big, strong, but gentle.

“It’s cool, we’re on top of things again,” he said in his deep steady voice.

His touch calmed her, yet sent a jolt into her belly. She was the cop and he was the robber. She had to take command, but the feel of his hand and the control in his manner weakened her will. The back of this taxi was no place to talk. She had to analyze her situation. She’d arrived at a safe house organized by the police. She guessed that Randolph was already there and that something had happened. For sure he would know the story. Now she was in free fall, alone with a guy who was being hunted by the Albanian Mafia. Chief Inspector Shannon Knightsmith had hinted at a problem with police security. Maybe someone on the inside had betrayed the address? God, she was out of her depth. And what the hell should be her next move?

“Get to Harrods Knightsbridge. Go round the back into Basil Street and stop at door 2A,” said Randolph.

The driver nodded.

“Harrods?”

“Yeah, I know it’s not the sort of place for a girl with your class but it’s convenient in the circumstances,” he replied.

“Shopping?”

“Why not? Don’t you want to look nice tonight?”

“What’s happening tonight?”

“Something wonderful. You’re going out with me.”

He needed a slap. He really deserved a sharp pin in his grinning balloon.

“And if I said no?”

“Then Miss 838 you’d be deserting your official duty and I’d have to speak with your superiors. Don’t forget I’m a taxpayer,” he said, tracing his hand up her forearm.

The cab stopped. For a moment Randolph stayed seated, checking for trouble in all directions. He handed the driver two fifty-pound notes, stepped out and collected Kaitlyn’s suitcase from the trunk.

“What’s your name, mate?”

“Tommy, they call me Tommy.”

“OK, you’re not available for the next hour OK. I’ll know if you take a job so don’t let me down, Tommy. I don’t want you meeting the wrong kind of person. Switch your phone off and get well south of the river before you check in. Do as I say and you’re safe, geddit?”

Kaitlyn let him take her hand as the car pulled away.

“This is the left-luggage entrance. Then we can shop,” he said.

She didn’t answer, but withdrew her hand and took out her cellphone.

“Who you calling?”

“I’m asking the questions, not you,” she said.

“Ask yourself this question then. Who can you trust? Your police mates let me out and I agreed to go to a safe house like a good boy. I get inside the door and the neighborhood welcoming committee throw a petrol bomb into the basement. Someone knew where I was going. So who can you trust, my sweet constable Kaitlyn?”

“Lucky I showed up,” she said, realizing he was right. With a bit of luck no one knew where they were. All the same she needed to speak with DCI Shannon Knightsmith.

“Just trust me, Randolph.”

He turned and stood in front of her, setting down the suitcase. He reached out and held her by the shoulders. His look was calm and strong, holding her eyes in his. She was the cop. He was the robber. His lips gently kissed her forehead, brushing the bridge of her nose.

“I’ll give you back all the trust you put in me. And thanks for calling me by my name.”

Oh no. She had closed her eyes and felt his lips, had longed to raise hers to meet with his, longed to respond to him as a woman. Get a grip, Kaitlyn. Get a grip NOW or give up.

“I’m calling my DCI. I trust her.”

“That’ll be Shannon. I’d have said she was quite a looker if I hadn’t already met you.”

“What’s wrong with you? Can’t you see the danger we’re in?”

Randolph shielded his eyes like a lookout sailor and made a dumb show of looking up and down the road.

“Damned if I can see any.”

She shook her head and pushed the call button.

“Kaitlyn, we were just going to call you.”

The voice was Shannon’s.

“What’s going on? What do I do now?”

“Things are cool. Something went wrong at the house. I know this sounds crazy but don’t tell me your location. Are you OK? Are you still with target?”

“Close as a decent girl can get.”

“Stick with him and wait for me to call you. You know what I’m saying. I’ll call you. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

Kaitlyn knew exactly. Someone inside the police had tipped off the bad guys. Shannon knew. Randolph Quinn knew. But no one except the bad guys knew who. Until the good guys did know, she was alone with a dangerous man. And he was a dish to savor.

“For now I’m all you’ve got, Randolph,” she said clicking off her phone.

“You’re all I want, Kaitlyn.”

“You’re some kind of f*****g lounge-lizard gangster. I should have just left you for road kill when I had the chance.”

“Oooh you’re a charmer when you turn it on. Let’s stash the case, get you dressed up like a billionaire banker’s lady and share the memories of where we’re both from with a bottle of champagne. Then we’ll dine, then we’ll dance, and then you can be my good night cop, watching the baddie sleep while you play up and down with the barrel of your gun.”

“What g*n? I was supposed to get tooled up at that house.”

“No worries,” he said sweeping his arms around her waist. “There’ll be toothbrushes, pyjamas, and a police issue Glock 26.”

“What the f**k?”

“My lovely Kaitlyn, welcome to the world of the infinitely possible. I knew you were coming so I baked a cake.”

“The world of infinitely possible cake and death.”

“All that bodyguard stuff’s your job. I told you I trust you.”

Kaitlyn let out a long sigh. She could block all this trash if he just didn’t have those kind brown eyes and his way of pulling her deeper and deeper into him.

“Randolph, I’ll square with you. I’m alone and afraid, OK. You’re in some different league to me. Just tell me if you’re going to open up and share your whole true story. I’m taking the same risks as you but I’m a nobody. I’ve got no true home of my own. I’ve got no money, no power, no big shot career. If you still feel that we’re from the same place in life you’ll give me a straight answer. Show me that respect or you’re on your own, boy.”

In a London street a man took a woman in his arms and kissed her lips. That is how it would look to a passerby. To her it was the end of gravity, a floating sense of the serene with a nagging pressure of pleasure in her groin.

“You do have my respect,” he said as he held her away for a moment. His gaze was unafraid and confident. His arms were muscular, his face strong but kind. “We’ll talk and I won’t close any doors. Just push a little when you want to come in.”

Chapter 6Once her suitcase was checked in, he led her to the VIP entrance. The doorman nodded in recognition.

“I see you as sparkly, sapphire blue like your eyes,” he said.

“I see me as making my own choices and I don’t need another dress or you to pay for it.”

“I’m just the guy with the card. Sackman Platinum Bank will pay believe me. Relax Kaitlyn and go with the flow. Just for a while we’re free. Things may not always be that way.”

There was something serious and maybe sad in his voice that she’d not heard before, something that wasn’t a smart-a*s quip or joke.

“My job is to keep you breathing and hopefully free. If you want to discuss your options, I’m your girl.”

“I know that. You’re my girl and I see you as sparkly with sapphire blue for your eyes.”

She sighed in frustration. For a moment she’d thought he was going to open up. He beamed a warm smile.

“You said you were my girl, not me. But here’s a question. Your DCI Shannon explained the deal, the witness protection and all that stuff. I listened and I didn’t say no. I could never trust you guys. Someone knew the address of that house. Work it out for yourself. Imagine you could tip off a guy and earn a million. Tell me there’s no one on your team now or in the next twenty years who couldn’t be tempted or worse.”

“Worse?”

“Cops’ kids go to school. Cops’ mothers cross the street. Cops have daughters they don’t want g**g r***d. Power is just a politically correct term for ruthlessness. There’s guys out there who expect to get what they want and they can’t handle disappointment.”

What could she answer? He was right. He was too right. Every cop knew crooks that cruised by in limos and laughed at the system. Beyond them were the white collar manipulators of wealth outside the reach of simple cops or judges.

“You can trust me Randolph.”

“And I do, my little traffic cop. I can see it in your face. Right now you’re part of an experiment. You’ve got a cellphone and I’m guessing several people know your number. Other people with the right kit can detect your number. With just a simple Whitepage App I can track your phone. Let’s see how long it is until someone shows up.”

“What kind of someone?”

“My guess could be a cop, a good guy wanting to help. It won’t be a Mafia gorilla with a machine g*n. They want me alive.”

“So what’ll be wrong with the cop?”

“He won’t be on our side, sugar. He’ll be looking to get a better house, stop his wife finding out about his girlfriend or a boyfriend he tried once at school, cover some gambling debts. Everyone’s got a list and a history. These days privacy is the one luxury almost no one can buy.”

“So I’m adrift with a crook in a sea of crooks.”

“When there’s sharks in the water it’s best to make friends with a killer whale like me and I bet you didn’t have a better offer for tonight anyway,” he said with a laugh.

She gave a nervous smile in return. She could see what he was doing. He was manipulating her for sure but everything he said seemed plausible. He’d used the term “our side” to mean the two of them. He was blurring the lines gently but steadily. At last her psychology degree was helping out her life. But Oh My God, he’d kissed her. And that kiss had sunken in to her core. Just play along, Kaitlyn. That’s your job.

“Maybe a bit sparkly,” she said.

He threw an arm around her and kissed her cheek.

“Let’s play two young shoppers in love. Who’s going to interfere with that?” he said.

“Let’s play one cop, one crook. If it’ll keep me alive I can fake the love.”

“I always know if a girl is faking it.”

“You’re just completely impossible. You think you know about everything, including women.”

“Ah, women might be a weak spot. You could help me with that, when you’re off duty.”

So, when he held out his elbow she took his arm, like a b****y stupid goldfish reacting to food on the surface. She knew it as she watched his eyes go to her hand and then sweep on to her own eyes with a sense of complicity; and triumph. Just his smile sent a teasy ping to her hot spot. She hated her body because it wasn’t hers. She could feel she was aroused and loving that warmth. His eyes went to her mouth, his hand came to her cheek, brushed to her chin as she leaned in to him and kissed the soft flesh of his lips. Oh God, she wanted his touch to pluck the ripe fruit of her. She let her breasts press against him, savoring the pleasure. Oh God, Kaitlyn, what the f**k are you doing? Once a box of chocolates was open she could never eat just one.

“Now that’s what they call method acting.”

She stood back and took a deep breath.

“A girl has to rehearse.”

He kissed her hairline which was the natural height of his lips.

“This theater never closes,” he said.

The escalator took them to the first floor. An immaculately dressed woman of about forty-five smiled with professional assurance and offered her hand to Randolph.

“Mr Quinn, such a pleasure to see you again.”

“I’m sorry. I know you guys only do appointments, but my life is very busy.”