against the ornately carved mahogany door until she was crumpled on the floor and gave way to deep, wrenching sobs. Seventeen years of saying no-really-I'm-fine until it was automatic, and it took a day like today to show her how foolish and vain all her efforts had been.
Her sobs quieted to a numb silence. She pressed her face against her knees, and began to pray; she wasn't sure to whom. She wasn't at all positive there was a God, but she definitely believed in the opposing forces of good and evil. She might not have power, or control, or even a plan, but she was here in search of the truth, for her father's sake.
She was here for love. That had to count for something. In any case, it was all she had, and she was clinging to it with all ten fingernails.
The security on Lazar's town house was considerably tighter since Seth and the McCloud brothers had burgled it four months before. The increased security wasn't much of a challenge, though, considering how he and his team had rigged the data retrieval. It was almost too easy.
Seth thought about that first burglary raid as he slid through the bushes like a shadow, far out of range of the infrared motion detectors. He shouldn't have been thinking at all; he should be in the zone of pure focus, but anything was better than thinking about Raine.
He'd been surprised at how smoothly the four of them had worked together to coordinate the electronic assault upon Victor Lazar; the planting of the vidcams, phone transmitters, laser gulpers, and wall resonator mikes, all while staging a simulated burglary. They'd worked like swift, silent parts of the same machine, no ego in the way, thoughts running on the same groove. Quick learners, too, even though they weren't trained gearheads like him. A good team. They saved their annoying personality quirks for their leisure time.
He fumbled in the darkness as he set the microwave frequency he needed to activate the resonant bug in Lazar's office. He tuned the receiver for the return broadcast, cursed behind his teeth when he got it wrong, and entered it again. He was going to have to hurry to finish inside the time frame he had set himself. He hated hurrying.
He'd run through the routine, visualizing every move in advance, but he needn't have bothered. His concentration was blasted to shards. A nighttime data sweep was a sneaky, ninja-type job that usually chilled him, but it wasn't working tonight. His brainwaves weren't smoothing into undulating alpha curves; they were as jagged as the teeth of a broken pocket comb. Every muscle in his body was rigid; his head and neck and balls all ached, and every time he started to calm down another phalanx of sexual images would roll over him, leaving him breathless and flattened.
He had plenty of tactile data on Raine Cameron now, but the joke was on him—he couldn't control the data flow. It came at him in a torrent; her scent, her velvet softness, her smile. This was hell on earth. Worse than before he'd slept with her. Exponentially worse.
The video had done it to him. He'd been on edge already after Raine stormed out of the hotel room; then he got home, logged on and saw Lazar waiting in her house, sipping his drink in nicking
So he'd clenched his teeth, planted his ass and waited for her to get home. One thing was for sure. If he had to watch Lazar fuck her, then it was a damn good thing he had nothing in his stomach.
The conversation that took place, from 9:35 to 9:47, had astonished him. Raine Cameron was exactly what she appeared to be: a bewildered, overworked new secretary in a big import export firm.
So why the provocative setup? Why was she ensconced in the ex-mistress's love nest? Why had she fallen into bed with him, as if she knew that it was expected of her? It didn't add up. Nothing added up.
He'd monitored Lazar's Mercedes to the marina, satisfied himself that the boat was bound for Stone Island, and replayed that twelve minutes of footage until it looped endlessly in his mind. He paced around, kicking the cheap furniture, punching the walls.
He had to do something, or he would go nuts. Something sneaky and challenging, preferably dangerous. A data retrieval sweep was pretty tame, but what the hell, it was better than stealing hubcaps.
This was asinine. He had more important things to worry about. So he'd nailed a beautiful woman, hurt her feelings, and then pissed her off. Whatever. That sequence of events was normal for him.
But this was Raine, his red-hot fairy-tale princess.
His ugly final words to her echoed in his mind as he slipped through the bushes and alleys. She'd opened him up and he hadn't expected it. He couldn't afford to be naked and vulnerable in front of one of Lazarus women. His instinct had been to shove her away, as fast and as hard as he could.
He headed back to Oak Terrace and set the audio data to run through the processors. It was going to take the voice recognition filters a while to sift through the massive data load of frequencies that the gulpers had gathered and polish up any matches it found with the frequencies of Lazar's or Novak's voices. He and the McClouds had planted virtually undetectable carrier current transmitters in Lazar's town house phones, neatly circumnavigating the problem of the digitally encrypted phone lines, but he hadn't yet pulled off the same trick for Stone Island. Phone calls from that location were still an unknown quantity, representing a gaping hole in his surveillance coverage. Which bothered the hell out of him.
Oh, God. He couldn't sit around in that cramped, suffocating place and watch data crunching. He had to get out into the wide, glittering night. He felt dangerous and wired. Two head-banging, mind-blowing orgasms should've chilled him out, but he was more wound up than ever. He bolted for the Chevy and set off, speeding through the streets, mind racing. Incoherent and out of control, streaming with data, images and feelings, fire and smoke.
Connor McCloud's words echoed through his mind when he saw the exit that would take him to Templeton Street.
He slid down on the seat until his face was in full shadow, stared up at her house, and concluded that it did. Look at him, lurking in the dark like a stalker. At least at this hour, nobody was likely to notice him and call the cops. That would be the crowning indignity.
From this vantage point, he could cover both front and back entrances plus monitor the lights in the living room, bedroom and bathroom. From this distance, thanks to Kearn's evil genius, he could just flip on the receiver he'd built into the Chevy's dash and watch every move she made on his laptop, without even the benefit of a phone line.
Better yet, he could disable her alarm, pick all three locks, and walk right in. It made him furious, how vulnerable she was. Which made no sense, since her lack of defenses was entirely to his advantage. Nothing made sense tonight.
The hypothetical scene played in his mind. She would be furious at first, but he would plead and grovel until she softened up. He knew exactly how to turn her on. Having once gotten through her barriers, he knew the way now like he was born to it. He knew how to get under her guard just as he knew how to disable her alarm and pick her locks. He had great instincts when it came to sex. They had never failed him—at least not while he was actively engaged in it
Afterwards, of course, was another story. But he wouldn't worry about that now. One step at a time, for God's sake.
First the words and the charm. Then the kissing and cuddling, until Raine calmed down and started to cling to him, sweet and trusting. He would pet her and nuzzle her until she started to secretly wonder if he were ever going to do anything more. And when he felt the subtle signs of that restless energy building inside her, that was his cue.
Then he would lay her out on the bed or couch or carpet, whatever was closest, and pleasure her with his mouth until she had forgotten why she was mad at him. Until she was writhing, slick, wide open. Begging him. Delicious. Easy. Like taking candy from a baby. He had the means, he had the power, but when he reached for the
