A Romantic Crime Thriller Ch. 01byshandal©
This is a five chapter romantic crime thriller with twists and turns, hot romantic sex, a little male on male violence telling the story about Michael and Libby, and I hope you like this tale of their adventure as they fall in love.
Standing in the shadows of the trees he watched the back of the building calculating his chances of being seen when he would skim up to the first floor window of the corner room in the large private home that held the safe. He was a tall tough wiry man all in black. Black jeans, black tee shirt, black leather jacket. Glancing at the watch on his right wrist he noted that the time was now two thirty on a dark moonless night.
Time to get on and do the job.
Pulling on the leather gloves he started to move forward, one last sweep with his dark brown eyes to check out the grounds he noticed a movement near the rhododendrons close to the edge of the property. Moving back he crouched into the shadow of the trees, his hand automatically reaching around to the small of his back and closing over the gun that nestled there in its holster.
Squinting with a frown he watched as a lithe figure, also dressed in dark clothing slipped silently to the side of the house and he watched as the person worked on the glass of a small side window, the pantry window according to the plans he had studied, and then cut and remove the pane using suckers, so that no noise woke the sleeping occupant of the red brick Victorian house.
He watched as the figure climbed in through the empty window, noting the narrow fit and the slightness of the figure until it disappeared from his sight.
Replacing the gun in its holder he ran quietly to the window and standing next to it carefully peered in. There was no sign of the other person who had just broken into the very house that he was being paid to break into and steal the file he was told could be found in the safe up in the first floor corner room.
Looking around behind him for one last check, he then hoisted himself up and squeezed through the narrow opening, before stepping down into the pantry, he then walked the few steps to the half open door and peered out, making sure he was alone.
Making his way across the large airy kitchen he looked out of the door into the hallway, getting a last glance of the silently moving figure at the top of the stairs before it moved from his view. Giving it a few seconds he assessed the lower ground floor from his position, before creeping up the stairs, following whoever looked to have pre-empted him and his assignment.
He stood in the doorway of the office, watching as the now obviously female figure crouched in front of the very safe he was intending to break into, her ear to the old fashioned safe door, her black gloved hand working the dial, her very pert, and now he noticed, sexy bottom pointing towards him, enclosed in tight black Lycra.
Stepping quietly forward he stood behind the woman, his arms folded over his chest and waited silently whilst she worked the safe.
Her concentration on the clicks inside the safe door stopped her from noticing she had company, and every so often he could hear her soft curse of "damn" under her breath, or the occasional softly whispered "yes".
Michael noticed the tendrils of blond hair that were escaping her black watch cap, and the gentle slope of her cheek, the small lobe of her ear sporting the tiny silver stud as he stood behind her, and felt a sudden tingle of sexual awareness tighten his belly as the first stirrings of blood started to harden his prick.
Just as she gave a small triumphant whispered "yessss" and sat back on her heels opening the safe, Michael uncrossed his arms, leant forward, placing his hand on her shoulder and said in his deep quiet voice, "Thanks Blondie........I'll take over now."
The scared and shocked squeal that omitted from the woman as she turned and looked up into his face happened just moments before a loud gunshot rung out from somewhere in the house, followed by the pounding sounds of feet running down stairs, doors slamming and then silence.
Michael ran to the office door, gun in hand, and peeked out, his heart racing in his chest.
Silence greeted him.
Behind him he heard the woman move, and turning his head hissed at her to stay still and wait where she was.
Slipping out of the room he crept down the hall hugging the wall until he came to the open door of another room, the main bedroom, at the opposite end. Easing the door further back with his arm he gingerly peered into the darkened space, letting his eyes adjust until he could make out a body laying sprawled on the bed, face up, legs dangling over the edge, a dark red stain spreading over the pyjama top of the body's chest.
The metallic smell of blood hit his nose.
The sound of movement made him run out the room in time to see the woman run down the stairs, and he followed her, taking two stairs at a time on the way down. He ran fast, catching up as she entered the pantry and made her way towards the window, grabbing her around the waist as she started to boost herself up to climb through he pulled her back towards him.
"Oh no you don't......." he growled, "Not until you give me whatever you took out of the damn safe."
The struggling body he held tight to him rubbed against him, the woollen cap falling off her head, and her long blond hair escaping and whipping across his face, the smell of lemon shampoo tickling his nose.
"Let go of me you bastard......" and her foot came down hard on his foot in a deep stamp down.
"Shit...." his arms eased from around her as the pain in his foot caught him, and then as she started to escape, he reached out and grabbed a handful of flying hair and growled, "Stand still....." and he stood on one foot as the pain eased in the other.
Just then he heard the sound of police sirens rent the air.
His hands left her hair and moved to her tiny waist giving her a boost to the window. "Get through, quickly......I don't know how the police were alerted so quickly.....but we've got to get out of here."
Following her through the window and dropping to the ground outside he ran with a limp after her as she ran through the trees to the wall where a knotted rope hung down. Climbing up after her, Michael heard the sounds at the front of the house of the police, and threw himself over the top of the brick wall and down to the uneven grassy ground on the other side, just in time to see the woman climb onto a motorbike a few feet away.
He rushed up and climbed on behind her just as she kicked the bike to life and the two of them took off into the woods behind the house, weaving through trees and over the bumps and dips in the dark until they emerged out onto the back road where he had parked his own car earlier that night, and then she guided the bike with speed in the opposite direction to where he had left it.
Michael nestled closer to the woman, her hair streaming in the wind into his face, tendrils of it catching on the dark stubble on his chin, tickling his mouth and in his eyes. The feel of her body tight against the front of his, her bottom nestled against his groin, and the feel of the machine between his legs felt wonderfully erotic, and the adrenaline that was still pounding through his body repeated the performance that had started when he saw her in front of the safe, and his hard-on grew inside his tight black jeans.
Libby's body was very aware of the man huddled up close to her on the bike; she could feel his body from head to foot as it hugged her, his thighs against hers, his arms tight around her waist, his hot breath on the nape of her neck.
Who was he? She had nearly had a heart attack when she had felt the hand on her shoulder back at the house. Glancing up at his face all she could make out in the gloom of the room had been slightly shaggy dark hair, gleaming eyes and a tough hard looking face. And then all hell had seemed to break loose. Shots....running feet of someone else....someone apart from her and the man behind her, and then she had looked into the safe as he had disappeared out of the room and found................nothing. Zilch. Zero. Nada.........nothing. Not the file......not even a single sheet of paper. Nothing.
Damn, damn, damn. She thought it was in there. Was positive it should have been in there. Her father had told her it would be there.
But it wasn't. So where was it?
Did the man behind her have it?
Speeding the bike up she wondered what to do with the man, how she could get rid of him. Maybe he had the file. As she sped along the winding road, further and further away from the house, the police and whatever had gone down there, she now planned on how she would get the file from the man and how to get away from him.
As he sat behind her, Michael was also planning and thinking. His car was back on the road behind the house and if not already, pretty soon the cops would find it, do a trace through the number plate and work out it was his. Going back to his rented room at the hotel was out. Going back to his flat in London was also out for now. The man who had contracted him to break in and retrieve the file was as far as he knew the only person who knew he was going to break into the house, so was he the one who had tipped off the police so that they had turned up so quickly. And who was the shooter and why had they killed the houses owner.
The only thing he knew for sure was that he and the lovely woman who sat on the bike in front of him hadn't tipped off the police or murdered the man on the bed.
Suddenly the bike pulled into a small dirt lane and into a rough car park area nestled in the woods. The woman killed the bikes engine and lights and kicked down the rest before climbing off the bike, keys in her hand. "OK this is as far as we go......hand over the file....."
Michael sat astride the machine, missing the feel of her body from his, and crossing his arms he sat appraising her and the situation. After a long pause during which he stared at her, a small grin appeared on his face, "Supposing I have the file, and I'm not admitting I have, what are you willing to trade for it."
Libby stood hands on hips, "What!.....give me the fucking file......I'm not trading anything for it you bastard. Hand the bloody thing over."
Swinging a leg across the seat of the bike he sat facing her, "Do I look a fool........what are you willing to pay me for it? If not money I'm willing to trade something else......say a little roll on the ground here and now for it......"
Spluttering with fury she spat out, "A little roll on the ground....."
"Or we can go somewhere else......you have a bed where you live....we could go there.....mess up the sheets, get a little sweaty, make something worth me handing over the file for."
"In your dreams......."
Standing up he stepped towards her, she took a step back, up against a tree where she stood staring up at the man in front of her, danger and hardness emanating from him. "Stay away from me...." she shakily whispered. His hand reached up and cupped the back of her neck pulling her towards him. Breathlessly, Libby's hands pushed at his chest and continued, "No....stop." Just as his lips settled over hers and kissed her in a gentle kiss, his mouth soft and warm. Pulling slightly back he asked her, "How much do you want that file? How important is it to you?" Then leaning his body into hers, pushing her tight against the tree trunk behind her he took her mouth in a deeper kiss, his tongue searching out the inside of her mouth.
The sounds of a police car could be heard coming up the road towards them, and breaking the kiss Michael pulled Libby behind the tree and using his body sheltered her from sight as the flashing car sped past the dark car park nestled in the woods and then away up the road northwards.
"We need to get out of here before the cops find us and work out that we were in that house when the man was killed."
Gasping Libby tried to turn around but her body was pushed hard against the tree by the man behind her, the very obvious sign of his sexual arousal pressing into the base of her back. "Killed....Frederick McMasters has been killed?"
"If that's the name of the man who was laying face upwards on the bed back there, a very large hole in his chest leaking a lot of red gunk.......then yes, killed. Killed by person or persons unknown....but before too long the police are going to think it was me.......or you...."
"Why would they think it was me or you.....?" She wriggled until he let her turn around and she gave a hard push on his chest making him give her a little more room. "I was with you when we heard the shot.....I know it wasn't you, and why would they think you did it, or me."
Looking down at her he spoke patiently as if to a child, "On the first hand, when you sped off on the bike with me on the back you took me in the opposite direction of my car which is parked near the house ready for me to get away, the police will trace it back to me."
"You climbed onto the back of my bike.....I didn't ask you to......."
Interrupting whatever she was going to say, "Secondly your woollen watch cap is back at the house where it fell, with possible hair samples from your head attached to it..........the police can get DNA from the hair......if they match it to you through any copy on data to you they'll scoop you up as fast as they'll scoop me up."
"My DNA is not on file.....why should it be."
Ignoring her he continued, "Thirdly It may have crossed your mind, but in case it hasn't, Lady we were both in that house illegally, we broke in, both for the same thing......the file. That is illegal. We'll both be done for breaking and entering even if we give each other an alibi against the murder. And fourth who the hell is Frederick McMasters?"
Tears started to form in her eyes as she looked down, "It's a long story."
"Then let's get back on the bike and go somewhere where you can tell it to me and we can work out what to do next."
"And you can give me the file."
"I don't have it."
"You said you would trade for it."
"I lied......" and grabbing her arm he pulled her over to the bike, climbed on and waited for her to do the same. "Get on the bike sugar let's get going.....as soon as you tell me your side of the story, I'll tell you mine."
Edward Derosa looked down at the file and the throwaway Pay as you Talk mobile phone on the passenger seat of his car and smiled. It had all gone off to plan. The man he had hired to steal the file would end up charged with murder when caught in the house by the police. The gun he had used to shoot that old fool McMasters was lying on the floor of the bedroom where he had dropped it deliberately after killing the double crossing twat. No prints or link could be connected to him from the gun. The safe would be found open if Michael Stewart had done his job as well as he said he could, nothing in it. The police would deduce that Stewart had broken in, opened the safe, found nothing, gone in to the bedroom to terrorise McMasters into telling him where anything worth stealing was hidden, shot him and then got caught on site.
Phoning the tip-off from the unregistered throw away phone minutes before he had shot McMasters to the police meant they would catch Stewart and give him enough time to get away.
The perfect fall guy Michael Stewart. Ex army, now a man for hire, known to the police.....no known family, just perfect to take the blame.
Edward Derosa drove the car at a steady speed under the limit so as not to draw attention to himself until he arrived at his own home. He pulled into the driveway, grabbed the file and the phone and taking the key opened his front door and climbed up the stairs and then went into the bedroom to look down at his sleeping wife.
She had never noticed he wasn't there next to her, the sleeping pills she took each night giving her a deep and undisturbed sleep.
Walking back out of the bedroom he went into his son's bedroom and after standing next to the sleeping child sprawled in the bed checking on him, turned around and quietly placed the file and the phone in the top cupboard behind the deflated Lillo and large beach ball kept stored there.
Michael entered the small cottage behind Libby, his gun in his hand, and carefully checked out the downstairs, noting the flimsy backdoor in the kitchen that led out to a stamp size garden before going upstairs to check out the upper part of the house. Looking up at the hall ceiling he sized up the entrance to the cottages attic and called down to Libby where she stood, arms wrapped around herself at the bottom of the stairs chewing on her bottom lip with worry. "How do you get up to the attic? Do some steps come down if I open the flap up there for climbing?"
"No. I don't have any steps to get up there. I borrowed my dad's when I moved in to place some stuff up there and haven't been up there since."
"This place have a cellar?"
"No. No cellar."
Coming downstairs and placing the gun back into the holster at the back of his jeans Michael told Libby, "It will have to do for now. Go into the kitchen at the back. Don't turn on any lights. We need to talk."
Shaking inside Libby walked to the kitchen and without thinking filled up the kettle and set it on the hob. Michael went into the front room, and carefully pulling the lace curtain slightly aside checked outside to see if there was any sign of the police. All he could see was a mangy fox ripping into a black plastic bag of rubbish in the garden of the house opposite.
He heard Libby call out, "Tea or coffee?"
"Coffee, black. No sugar." And he walked into the tiny kitchen, leaned back against the counter, and watched as she poured out two cups of coffee, adding some milk to one of them before handing the other to him.
"We need to talk. Best place is upstairs. Back room." He told her.
"Best place is down here. And then you need to go."
"Scared of me sugar."
Looking him straight in the face she said, "Yes." Then walked out of the kitchen, into the lounge and to the old sofa where she sat sipping her coffee and trying to still the shaking inside of her.
Michael followed her into the lounge and looking once again out of the window then sat down on the chair opposite her and leaning forward, elbows on spread thighs said, "OK tell me what you were doing breaking into that safe and what, and why do you want the file?"
Taking a deep breath Libby said, "What's your name? I don't even know your name."
Michael smiled, and Libby's heart gave a small lurch. It transformed his face from hard and tough looking to almost handsome and approachable. "You tell me yours first, I can't keep calling you sugar, sugar."
"Libby. Libby Higham. And you are?"
"Michael Stewart. Nice to meet you Libby." And the smile on his face went up a notch. "Very nice! Even under the circumstances. Now spill the story and don't leave anything out."
"It's my dad.....he worked for.....or at least he used to work for this Financial Investment Company. So did Frederick McMaster. Two weeks ago the police came and arrested my dad, charging him with fraud of client's funds." Looking fierce Libby told Michael, "He's innocent.....he's been set up.....the file will prove it......if you know where it is give it to me and I'll send it to the police to prove it."
"I told you I don't have it." Michael sat back, hooked his long leg up so that his foot rested on his knee and took a sip of the coffee, "So how did you end up breaking into the safe.......are you some kind of safe breaker?"
"My dad told me he thought the file was being held by McMasters, he guessed that McMasters knew who the real thief was, or was it himself. When asked to turn over the file he said he didn't have the file, but my dad said he knew he had it."