Thief in the Night Pt. 01

He kissed her, and it was like being pillaged and plundered by a Viking horde. He didn't kiss her so much as claim her body, and in that moment, her soul, with his lips. Without hesitation he parted hers and slid inside, making her head swim as her senses filled with his taste, his smell, the feel of him pressed against her, so heavy, hard, and hot.

She wanted to lift her legs, wrap them around his waist, rub against him until they were both panting. His hand cupped the full hefty weight of a breast and she cried out, needful and aroused beyond measure.

Then his words sank in, and this time her body listened and shoved him back. He stumbled, but didn't go far, smiling down at her as if her attempt were cute.

"Who the hell are you?"

"A friend of your godfather's. I'm here to make sure you don't get killed or imprisoned for the foolish stunt you're about to pull."

"Fool- Georges- How dare you!" She slammed one of her spiked heels down on his instep and shoved him back.

He tumbled off the step and nearly fell as she brushed past him, but Kerry didn't make it far before a hand snaked out and he grabbed her arm. With an iron grip he dragged her back and she saw temper had turned his eyes almost black.

"Little minx, can the dramatics! I'm not going to stop you. Billy's job is to watch your back; my job is to watch out for McCall."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

His smile was patronizing as he regained his full height, still holding her immobile. "I know everything. I owe Georges a few favors and he asked me to make sure McCall never gets a chance to hurt you in any way."

"Let me go. I don't know what game you're on about, I don't know what you think you're doing, but you can't blackmail me. You've got nothing!"

He swung her to face him head on, clutching both her arms. He moved so swiftly her hands splayed across his chest and she grabbed his lapels to hold her balance.

"Sweetheart, my name is Henry Williams. I'm a lawyer from America. I needed some help with a case, getting some sensitive documents back. I'd met Georges before, and he set me up with another one of his thieves, Michel Lyons. Call your godfather now and ask...or you could come with me to my room in the house as my guest and look over the dossier he gave me."

"I'll call," she said with narrowed eyes. Jerking a hand back she found her cell phone in her purse and hit the first number on her speed dial.

"Allo allo," Georges said.

"It's me. I have a Henry Williams pawing me, he says you sent him."

"Nice, isn't he? You needed an in at the Dauphinee house, I got you one. He's there as a guest of Dauphinee's lawyer Marchal. They're expecting his wife tonight or tomorrow."

"Georges, you sent me Billy, that's all I asked for."

"And I told you it's a three man job. I found you a third man. And darling, I know how you go through men. I got you one you can enjoy, but never go through like the others."

Spitting mad, she hung up on his laughter.

"I don't need you. Lord Dodd is a widower and lonely, and so old and deaf I can come and go from his rooms as I please."

Henry smiled."And according to Georges Lord Dodd also prefers very young men, younger than even Billy, who by the way is expected as my wife's personal bodyguard. It's simple, Kerry. Come with me, stay in my room, pretend to be my wife and I can protect you."

"I don't need protection."

"Georges thinks you do."

She looked down the street at a few couples leaving the bar and sighed. Figured, the seduction routine had likely been to bully her into accepting his high-handed help. And she'd fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. What fueled her temper was how calm he seemed, when, even now, her body wanted to rub against his and seek any pleasure to be had. Damn her hormones, and damn this man.

"What are you getting from all this?" she asked, at a loss. Nobody ever did anything for free. "How much is he paying you? I'll double it if you fuck off right now."

Henry smiled triumphantly and she hoped that meant he was preparing a number. "Not a cent." He let her go then and now she stumbled back in complete shock. "Just the hope to see more of that sweet heart-shaped ass."

So the price was her body. A very small part of her was complimented, but the bulk of her personality wanted to kill him with her bare hands for the insult. She barely resisted the urge to smack him, clenching her fists tight at her sides. "Fat chance. Good night Mr. Williams, you can go home to America. I don't require your services."

He grinned as she brushed past, and when he spoke something made her pause to listen, turning back. "I like a woman with spirit. I'll make you a deal. You have until five tomorrow evening. If you haven't found a doddering old man to con, I'll pick you and Billy up at your hotel."

She just glared and stalked off, unable to think of a proper put-down. For the first time in her entire life, a man had gotten the better of Kerry Allen.

***

"I'm staying an extra week in France," Henry said as he unpacked his shaving kit into the bathroom of the suite he'd been given.

"Is everything all right?" Cynthia asked.

"I hope so. I'll know tomorrow, but if things don't go to plan I'll need a wife and her bodyguard. Think you and Jon can get a babysitter?" He tried to keep his tone light and joking.

"Woman trouble?" she asked, seeing through the ruse.

It seemed his life was always guided by women. The first had been his mother, who had died when he was only five. Before she had gone he'd been a bookworm, a budding geek, following in her footsteps. After, with just his father, he let himself be molded into a football star and had grown in to something of a social butterfly. Then at fifteen he'd met Jessica, his first love.

On the night they had turned their love physical her life had taken a horrible turn for the worse. Her step-father had attacked her and she had killed him. He was owned by a drug czar and Jessie had gone on the run from the cartel as well as authorities. Henry and his father had helped her.

In her absence he had gone on to college and then studied law, planning on international law in the hopes he would help her some day in the future and reclaim their relationship. Then came Sharon Meyers, a crush from law school. Before her he'd always liked sweet wholesome girls like Jessie, but Sharon was a real ball buster, a term he thought of affectionately. She had proposed to him, and then she had dumped him when she realized part of his heart still belonged to Jessie, lost out in the world.

No, that wasn't fair. Sharon was a strong woman, yes, but her family had bullied her into the match. She would have stayed if Henry had truly loved her, but he couldn't. Sharon had been the smart one, to go against her family and give his ring back. She had saved them both a life of politely structured misery, and they had kept in touch, becoming friends.

Then seven years ago Jessie had come back, still hunted, and in love with another man. Because of her Henry had killed a double-crossing DEA agent, and that had changed him forever. Because he loved her, he footed the bill so she could have a normal life in hiding, becoming Cynthia. Hell, he'd done the same for her new love Julian, now Jonathon.

They stayed friends, Jon was now his best friend, and when Cynthia had passed the bar they had opened up their own firm in Washington D.C. Now Jon and Cynthia were married with two kids, a sweet boy and girl, his godchildren. Forgetting her had been a long process and he'd fucked women into possibly the triple digits trying to do so. Never once had he found what he was searching for, and now he couldn't even say what that was.

Through it all she had so patiently been his friend. She had known him as the sweet dopey boy he'd been, the idealistic young lawyer, the disillusioned man lost, and now as the man he'd become, much harder-edged and darker than he'd ever been.

For some reason he could remember each turning point, a strange kind of grief. His mother's death, Jessie's disappearance, Sharon's tears as she threw his engagement ring at him, Agent Soto dying by his hand, the way Jessie, now Cynthia, had looked on her wedding day, and the face of the bridesmaid he had fucked in the kitchen, desperate to forget the bride. Just once, he wished there was hope for some kind of lasting peace.

"When is a woman anything but trouble?"

"Oh, Henry. Tell me about it."

He couldn't, he realized. She knew about the triple-digits and never judged, even joked with him. And now here he was, trying unsuccessfully so far to consort with criminals. Cynthia was a criminal attorney who helped with extraditions and the like. If anyone could be trusted to listen and not judge it was her, but for some reason he didn't want to share Kerry with anyone.

"Just a spur of the moment thing. Met this girl, followed her across the damn country, and now she's playing hard to get."

Cynthia laughed. "Just keep at her, she'll cave eventually, they always do. And the second she shows interest you play hard to get. Trust me on that." In the background Jon made some crack and Henry felt a wince of jealousy. Not over Cynthia belonging to another man, but for the easy happiness they had.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. Now how's the Jackson case going?"

They talked of work for another half hour and then said good bye, Cynthia to go home for dinner with Jon and Henry wanted to seek out the other men of the party's early arrivals in the study.

Georges had called in a marker from the lawyer handling the estate and Henry had passed the afternoon getting to know the man to strengthen the story they were good friends. He knew the Dauphinee family consisted of the matron, her daughter, and the daughter's wastrel husband who had drained the last of their estate. Now he had legal troubles and they were selling everything. Marchal was handling it all, and the cover was that Henry was helping him with the paperwork and shipping.

On Friday the large group of guests would arrive for the auction, but for the next few days it was only a small group of old fogies who could afford the house. Henry was excused for his youth because he was fully capable of helping Marchal with the sale of the house, particularly if the buyer was one of the many Brits there, or the one of the two Spaniards.

He found the study where two of the old Brits, Humes and Mayhew, had gathered on a sofa to gossip about the others. Senor Ruiz was playing chess with Dr. Dubois, and three Brits who appeared to have a combined age of five hundred chatted with Marchal asking questions about the history of the estate.

Henry nodded to the lawyer, the only other guest under sixty there, and requested a whiskey on the rocks from the caterer's assistant playing bartender. The bored young Frenchman mixed it quickly and passed it over, eyes flicking to the door as it opened.

A man stepped through, another member of the under-sixty club, probably in his mid forties. Tall and distinguished looking, his dark hair had just a touch of silver at the temples that looked affected to Henry. His skin was pale, bones strong, and he was dressed in rich clothes that seemed new, not quite correctly tailored for his slim frame.

He surveyed the room, saw Marchal still surrounded by Brits, and came to the little bar of the study.

"Scotch, single malt, best you have," he said in English, a British accent barely floating above an Irish.

McCall.

Henry sized up his quarry, Kerry's ex partner. Master thief? He looked like nothing, like a philosophy student grown up living off mummy and daddy's money. He hoped McCall was smarter than he looked, otherwise he couldn't imagine why a woman like Kerry would ever want to work with a man like that.

She was vital, bursting with energy, passion, and sensuality. She was the essence of life captured in one being, and this man looked like he was in training to be a mortician.

"Jack Mason, my dear boy, and I say you are?"

"Henry Williams." Henry took his hand and squeezed when they shook. He wondered if he just beat "Jack" half to death if Kerry would be satisfied with that. Sighing, he dropped the clammy hand and resisted the urge to wipe his palm on his trousers and thought back to what Georges had told him, and the dossier showed. Death would frankly be too good for McCall.

"So how do you know the Dauphinees?"

"I don't," Henry said honestly. "I'm assisting Monsieur Marchal with the legalities of international sales."

McCall was of a height similar to Henry's and tried to draw up higher. Failing that he stuck his nose in the air in an almost cartoonish manner. "Ah, the help. Pardon me."

So that was the man he had to shadow, Henry thought as McCall slunk away towards the chessboard. God, he'd better see plenty of Kerry's sweet little ass. That was the only way this was going to be worth it. He downed his drink and wondered once more why he was doing this. And then that little leather skirt flashed into his mind, and he was a man lost.

Chapter Two

"I think you've mistaken me for one of those gay characters in some awful Bridget Jones type movie."

Kerry threw a pillow at Billy. "I'm not asking for advice on shoes, I'm asking if this is smart. It's four thirty already and I've walked all over town, even strolled through the woods. I have so far only gotten one invitation to the house and that is Henry Williams, the irritating probable-sex-god Georges has foisted on me. Do I go along with his plan, or should I take the catering job?"

Billy lay reclining on her bed, stuffing cookies into his mouth from the bakery next to the hotel. "Can you cook?"

"God no. I have a lovely woman named Maria who does that for me back home. Fuck's sake, I'm British and I can barely boil water for tea."

Billy shrugged. "So go with the sex god."

"But what if Georges is wrong and we can't trust him? He's a bloody barrister!"

"I like you when you get angry, you seem more British to me. Soon we'll have you back to saying 'lorry' and 'carpark' and everything."

"Really? Billy, focus." She snapped her fingers in front of his face and tapped her foot impatiently.

"I am focused." He sat up and set the cookies down. "Look, luv, if you go with the sex god you get to sleep on a comfortable bed and have some naughty fun, and I get a nice comfortable bed. Plus I can move around as your bodyguard, which I basically am. Go in as a caterer and you'll be a waitress or bartender, and good luck without speaking French. And what will I do? Sling drinks and try to keep an eye on you? Not doable, luv. Plus, those shoes don't actually go with that dress."

Kerry stopped pacing and looked down at her heels, a cheery bright green she thought went well with the turquoise sweater dress. Looking back at him she raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you're a hitman?"

"Luv, you don't want to know. But like you I know fitting in is important in your line of work and mine. I have suits packed to be a good little bodyguard, you're dressed too loudly. Go put on something beige or taupe or whatever shade of boring rich people are wearing this season."

"Fine, but after I change I want to take one more pass around town. I believe Lord Anderson is in the market for wife number five."

"Go on," he waved her off and picked up the remote for the TV.

From her suitcase Kerry selected a black dress and a pair of basic black ankle boots. With her coloring she only looked good in black or jewel tones; brown, ecru, taupe, beige, and the like made her look like a busty librarian.

She went into the bathroom to change and had just slipped on the dress when a knock came at the door. She peeked out to see Billy grab a gun from under his pillow and walk to the peephole. He slid the piece under his shirt and turned to wink at her as he undid the chain and opened the door.

"You must be the sex god. I'm Billy."

Henry raised his brow. Georges had noted Billy Cummings was gay, but he had a feeling this was not flirting, but instead a term Kerry had used. He smiled and cast a look around for her. "And where is my pretend wife?"

"Gussying up. Come on in, then."

Kerry closed the door and slid out of her cheery pumps. "Urasc oamenii," she said loudly, counting on neither of them knowing Romanian and understanding she hated men at that moment.

She smoothed her loose hair and checked herself in the mirror. Not too shabby. Subtle makeup, good cleavage, she could pull off sex kitten, a good look for wife number two. Sometimes it was best to stand out, and no one would think the lawyer's ditzy new wife was a master thief.

She came out to find both men sitting on the foot of the bed watching a Manchester United game against Paris SG. They were eating cookies and she hated them both in that moment. If she had even one she was sure to gain twenty pounds.

"You're early," she said by way of greeting, looking for her cigarettes, anything to take away the sudden urge to sample Henry and the damn cookies.

"And you haven't collected any doddering old men. I've met McCall, he doesn't seem like much."

Her eyes slid to Billy who knew the whole story.

"Don't be so sure, mate. Your job is to keep him at bay and help cast suspicion on him once we're done. If he tries something, that's where I come in. And luv, your fags are on the nightstand."

Henry must have seen something in Billy's eyes that Kerry missed as Billy was facing away from her. He nodded and stood. "Are you ready? My car is outside. Billy, I think it's best if you drive."

"Not a problem." He stood and grabbed his suit jacket from the desk chair, slipping it on. "All packed , luv?"

Kerry rolled her dress up and slid it and her heels into her large suitcase, zipping it up. "I am now."

"I'll take your bags down. Car out front, is it?" He asked Henry who nodded. With a grin and a wink Billy grabbed both her suitcases and slung her carry-on over his shoulder along with his own bag and backed out the door, leaving them alone.

Kerry tossed her cigarettes and lighter into her purse and took a deep steadying breath. "Let's get one thing straight," she said as soon as the door closed.

He grabbed her own overcoat and held it out. "I'm all ears."

"Do not get in my way. Do not screw this up. There is too much at stake here. Am I understood?"

"Perfectly. Tell me," he paused to come around and let her slide her hands through the arms of her coat. "Georges tells me stealing is better than sex." He slid the coat up and his hands smoothed across her shoulders as he leaned forward. She felt his hot breath on her ear as his hands skimmed down her sides to her waist. As they passed her breasts she felt them swell, her nipples stiffen. "Is that true? Shall we do a comparison test?"

She gasped and stepped forward, jerking from him. Turning, she caught his knowing smile and all words fled her mind.

"Sweetheart, I won't get in your way, but you're always welcome to get in mine."

"I am going to kill Georges." With that she left.

The ride over was filled with silence broken only by a light humming Billy fell into whenever traffic thickened. Finally they turned into the long drive up to the house and Henry grabbed her hand, pulling two rings from his pocket. "Better put these on."

She stared at the engagement ring and wedding band. He held up his left hand, already wearing the matching gold band.

Her professional instincts took over and she held the jeweled ring up into the sunlight. "That's a real diamond, nice, first water."

"I bought it for another woman a long time ago."

"What happened?"

"She left me, rightfully so. Now put those on, we're supposed to be a happily married couple."

She slid on the rings, the sensation odd, and raised a dark eyebrow. "Who said happily?"