“I’m not going to stand here and wait for you,” Regina called from the other room. “I just came to say they spotted him. He’s on his way to the target.”
That sobered her. Nikolett planted the heel of her hand on Eric’s forehead and pushed. He released her clit with a pop that made her see stars.
“Sure you want me to stop?” He kissed her inner thigh.
“You sure you want to be eating my pussy while I text another man?”
Eric growled against her leg, then looked up, brows rising. “You’re going to text Gus now?”
“If he’s the Spaniard, he won’t respond.”
“Maybe.”
“What do you mean ‘maybe’?”
“I mean—” Eric lowered his head between her legs, wrapping his arms around her thighs to trap her in place, his to play with, “—one text hardly seems like a reason for me to stop.”
Nikolett frantically sent the text before the feel of Eric’s soft, warm tongue on her clit made her lose the ability totype. Pleasure radiated through her, warm and soft. The kind that built slowly and guaranteed the eventual orgasm would fundamentally redefine pleasure.
Nikolett dropped her phone, laced her fingers through Eric’s hair, and forgot about everything but him.
Close now. Gus stopped to let a slow-moving lorry pass—right on schedule. He was just down the street from the building, and he’d be visible to anyone keeping watch. Someone on a moped, even with a delivery bag on the back, would draw their attention.
Gus’ watch buzzed with a message.
He hated the way his heart leapt.
For a moment, he debated. Was still debating when the lorry finished lumbering past. He twisted the handle and started forward. He had a plan. He’d spring their trap early, get the information—he had no idea if it was actually worth anything, but it was a point of professional pride to actually do the job he was hired for—then get out. He’d watch them scramble to figure out how he’d gotten away, then once they seemed calm, he would spring a few of his planned surprises.
He had fun chaos planned for both Paris and elsewhere.
The next time they laid a trap for him, he’d let them catch him, but not tonight. Tonight, he’d get away, utterly humiliating them in the process.
His watch buzzed again. A reminder of the unread message.
With a mental curse, he raised his wrist and read the message.
Nikolett
If you’re still in Paris, would you like to come over for a drink? No wine for me, but I hear the hotel makes a nice un déca.
Gus braked hard, putting one foot down as he veered onto a side street. This wasn’t part of the plan. He looked back the way he’d come, toward the building—his objective for tonight.
He faced forward. Down this alley, turn right, and he’d be only blocks from the hotel.
“Fuck,” Gus whispered in Catalan.
This alley wasn’t part of plan A or B, but he’d explored it plenty while working on plan C. He doubted the Masters’ Admiralty was monitoring the false wall that hid what had probably once been a garden between two buildings but was now a maze of heating units and utility pipes, the false wall there to hide it all. They’d find it now because they’d come looking for him when he didn’t appear at or in the building, but by then it would be too late.
He stashed the bike, slid in an unlocked ground floor window—it was a tight fit—and two minutes later exited through a building on the other side of the street, thanks to a series of connected underground cellars.
There was still time to get back on track. Head for the building and spring their trap. Make sure they converged on that back door while he snuck into the building beside the target and went from a third-floor window in that building to one in his target location—one advantage of his height was he could take long steps, long enough to span tight spaces.
That’s what heshoulddo.
What he did was turn the other way and start walking, shedding bits of tonight’s disguise as he went. He took onedetour to anépiceriehe’d noted during his recon. Luckily the shop owner was still there. Though the store had closed half an hour ago, he took pity on Gus’ begging to open for just a moment. He paid double for the items and felt simultaneously stupid and pleased with himself as he turned back toward the hotel.
By the time he reached Nikolett’s hotel, he wore only pants, a T-shirt, and a leather jacket, his phone and a state-of-the-art folding tablet in his pockets. He’d discarded thousands of dollars of other equipment in various cans and dumpsters but that didn’t matter. He wasn’t sure this look was in keeping with the man she knew as Gus, but nothing about him should raise an alarm.
