Besides, she deserved a treat for being a very good girl.
“Where there’s pleasure, there’s always pain.”
As the phrase and his words filtered into the back of her mind, she bit her lower lip to keep from exclaiming. Pierre hadn’t entered her mind for almost two months. Why now? Why here? Perhaps because of the incredible nightlife and the tempting fragrance of the ocean. She studied the people around her, the majority with drinks in their hands.
A warm flush swept up from her cleavage, the tropical dress leaving very little to the imagination. The night was humid, adding to the crackle in the atmosphere, everyone overheated, and the real party had yet to begin.
She was suddenly overwhelmed, feeling decidedly claustrophobic. Air, she needed the cool breeze of the ocean. Without using the crosswalk, she managed to dart across the street, yanking off her shoes and heading straight for the water. The rolling waves lapped at the shoreline, the moon creating the most incredible shimmer across the water. She was very lucky to be here and should be satisfied with her life in every manner. She should be. Why did she suddenly feel so lost?
Pierre.
His rugged good looks.
His demonstrative mannerisms.
His commanding demeanor.
And those damn incredible green eyes, allowing her a glimpse into his soul.
Funny how she couldn’t think about Pierre without also thinking about The Player. She laughed and held out her arms, tipping her head back as she thought about the last few months.
There’d been no sign of The Player, including internationally. There was speculation that given his failure to carry out the contract involving Stephen Wallace that his services had been rendered useless. Given he’d made two mistakes in a row, the concept seemed plausible to the powers that be.
She wasn’t buying it at all.
The Player might be laying low, but she suspected he was relaxing on some tropical island, most likely surrounded by women and booze. A chuckle left her mouth. She’d always envisioned him living in the lap of luxury, wallowing in riches the rest of the world could only dream about.
Much like she believed Pierre was doing. As if that was his real name. Even after continually searching the Monaco databanks, confirming both the status and picture of Officer Pierre Renier, she still didn’t buy it. However, she’d made a promise to herself to let what had happened in Monte Carlo go, pretending as if she hadn’t made such an egregious mistake. Her resolve had worked.
Until now.
Sophia had remained antsy, as if the ball was going to drop at any moment, but she’d learned to keep her suspicions to herself. She had mentioned her idea about a group of people surrounding The Player, all with a playlist of those they determined required extermination. She’d been ceremoniouslyasked to take a couple of days off, her hard drive searched and certain files taken.
Then she’d heard nothing, life going on as usual.
She’d learned to keep her mouth shut after that, but a day hadn’t gone by that she’d hadn’t invested her own time searching, finding a vast number of clues that had led to absolutely nothing. There were little connections between the recent assassinations—some successful and others a complete failure. Given several parties had stepped up after the contract kills, accepting responsibility for their ten minutes of fame, she couldn’t put a solid handle on anything.
A chill swept down her spine, a sixth sense telling her to turn around. There were people from every walk of life strolling along the beachfront. There was no way to see their faces, but as goosebumps popped along her arms, hair standing on the back of her neck, she had a feeling tonight was going to be very special.
Maybe it was just wishful thinking, exhaustion settling in after pretending to be someone else for so long. Then again, maybe this had been a mistake after all. Grousing, she hugged her arms across her chest as the chill settled in. She was determined to follow through with her plan, enjoying a well deserved drink or two then languishing by the hotel pool. That would certainly provide some level of rejuvenation. Then she could permanently place Pierre into a little black box, padlocked with no key.
Her spirits lifted, she waited as patiently as possible as she walked to the edge of the street, every car whizzing by seeming to be a sleek and very expensive convertible. Music blaring. Beautiful people. Stunning attire. South Beach royalty, something she’d never be able to achieve. She couldn’t complain,evidently her inquiries forgotten. The recent promotion both she and her partner had received now allowed them to work on the more important cases. Or as David would say, walking away from the grunt work.
She eyed the crosswalk sign, debating ignoring the huge red hand. Perhaps she should obey the laws and not press her luck. Chuckling, a flash in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Another shiver slithered down every bone in her back with such determination, she was left shaking.
He was here.
Sophia was absolutely certain of it.
She craned her neck as a group of people walked by the entrance to one of the hottest clubs on South Beach. When the crowd passed by, she was able to see a man standing alone just outside the set of double glass doors. Dressed in dark clothing, he had his hands in his pockets and even from this distance, she knew he was staring at her.
Watching her.
Hungering for her.
Beckoning to her.
There was no possible way of seeing his eyes, but she was drawn to then, mesmerized to the point she took a step off the curb. A single horn blast stopped her momentum, but certainly not her locked gaze.
