Fast Track (Buchanan-Renard 12)

“Why? Did we miss our reservation?”

He shook his head. “I thought you might want to stay in after your encounter.”

“Not at all,” she answered decisively. “Let’s go. I’ve got until three thirty.”

Cavanaugh was waiting in the car. It wasn’t until they were on their way that Aiden asked her what she was doing at three thirty.

“Are you going to the spa?” he wondered.

“No,” she replied. She looked out the window and sighed. It was a clear, sunny day. The harbor was stunning, with shards of light piercing the sparkling water.

“This is a beautiful city,” she remarked.

“Yes, it is,” he agreed. “What are you doing at three thirty?”

“I have an appointment at the Garvan Institute of Medical Research.”

“I should have guessed that’s where you’d want to go.”

“My academic advisor back home has arranged for me to meet a couple of the researchers working on genome sequencing. It’s exciting work,” she said enthusiastically, adding, “and I’m dying to see the DNA-inspired staircase. It’s a spiral. I’ve seen photos, of course, but I want to see it up close.”

“I had hoped you would stay inside the hotel until we fly home tomorrow.”

“I can’t miss Garvan.” She was appalled by the possibility. “What has you worried?”

“What has me worried?” His tone was curt. “I just watched your meeting with Simone. Did you look at those two men with her? They’re dangerous.”

“Yes, but Simone had her say, and I made it clear I wouldn’t make trouble.”

Aiden was annoyed by her naive interpretation of the conversation. “They were going to drag you out of the hotel. What makes you think they won’t try again? And don’t tell me you trust that woman to leave you alone.”

She hadn’t realized how upset he was until she noticed his clenched jaw.

“I don’t want you to go anywhere without me,” he commanded.

“I’m betting you’ll love the Garvan.”

“In other words, I’m going with you?”

She nodded, then changed the subject. “Who did you send those photos to? You handed the tech a business card . . .”

“Liam,” he answered. “I figure we might need his help. Besides, he might know those men. He’ll check them out.”

“I thought you didn’t like him.”

“I don’t like him around you,” Aiden admitted. “But I trust Alec’s judgment, and he says Liam’s good at what he does.”

“Have you figured out what that is?”

Aiden laughed. “Not really. I just know we want him on our side.”

The conversation ended when Cavanaugh pulled up in front of the Empire building. The restaurant was on the top floor, and all the windows overlooked the water. They were shown into a large private room. As it turned out, it was a working lunch for Aiden. There was a group of sixteen men and women waiting for him, and the talk centered on permits and expansion. Cordie was impressed with Aiden’s negotiating skills. He was fair yet got everything he wanted and then some. The women ogled him, but she couldn’t be angry. The man was gorgeous. There had been a time she had ogled him, too.

The food at the Empire was delicious. She ate every bit of her fish. How could she not? It was so fresh it wiggled on her plate. At the end of the lunch most of the guests lingered, and she was able to meet and talk to some of them. They were an eclectic group of politicians, community leaders, contractors, and business owners, and she was impressed by how cordial and welcoming they were toward her. After a couple of conversations, though, she realized several of the men thought she worked for Aiden. One asked her if she would like to go to dinner; another asked if he could show her some of the city that tourists didn’t know about; and yet another just wanted to “hang out” with her. She graciously declined all the invitations.

Once they were back in the car, Aiden asked, “How bored were you?”

“Oh no, I wasn’t bored. They’re interesting people.”

“How many men hit on you?”

“They were just being friendly.”

“How many?” He was frowning now.

“Three.”

He didn’t like hearing that. “They knew you were with me.”

“They thought I worked for you.”

“I’d never get anything done if you worked for me.”

“Is that a complaint or flattery?”

“A complaint, of course. You distract me.” He didn’t seem at all bothered by it.

“And you’re rude,” she said sweetly. Before he could comment, she leaned forward in her seat and said, “Cavanaugh, is the Garvan far from here? I don’t want to be late.”

“We’ll be there in ten minutes,” the driver promised. “You’ll be a little early.”

Aiden glanced up from answering a text on his phone. “You’re looking forward to the Garvan, aren’t you?”

“Oh yes,” she said. She could barely contain her enthusiasm. “I can’t wait to see their new genome-sequencing machine and talk to some of the researchers. They’re doing such wonderful work. I think you’ll be impressed with the facility, too.”

As it turned out, he was impressed, so much so he promised to make a donation. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry, and they stayed longer than they probably should have, taking up valuable work time, but everyone was so gracious, and Cordie had at least fifty questions. When they were leaving, one of the directors suggested she send him her résumé.

On the way back to the hotel Aiden asked her if she would ever consider working at the Garvan.

“I think Sydney would be a wonderful place to live, and the people here—most people—are very friendly and kindhearted, but as long as the Rayburns are living here, no. I want to be as far away from them as possible.”

“I want you far away from them, too.”

They returned to the hotel and went directly to their suite. She noticed there were two security guards posted in front of the private elevator. She knew Aiden was responsible but didn’t ask if it was necessary because she knew he’d get huffy about it. One couldn’t be too careful. He’d say that or something similar.

It seemed to Cordie that Aiden never stopped working. He took his suit jacket off and loosened his tie, which, for him, was casual attire during the week. Then he sat down at his desk, opened his laptop, and for the next couple of hours didn’t move. At dinnertime they ordered room service, and Aiden didn’t waste time on chitchat. After eating, he put on his suit jacket, adjusted his tie, and went downstairs to meet some associates in the bar. He would have dragged her along if she hadn’t promised again and again that she wouldn’t leave the suite.

She was happy to be rid of him for a little while. She thought the way he worried about her was very considerate, but he was a little overzealous about it. A man had grabbed her arm, yes. And yes, it had been his intention to take her out of the hotel against her wishes. Still, he hadn’t threatened her or hurt her. He was only following Simone’s orders, and all she’d wanted was privacy for their talk.

After Cordie packed for the trip home, she took a shower and put on a black silk camisole and matching boxer shorts. More than anything she wanted to talk to Regan and Sophie and tell them more about meeting Simone, but she didn’t want to e-mail or talk over the phone. This needed to be an in-person conversation. She put on the terry-cloth robe, grabbed her lip balm and tube of hand lotion, and went into the living room. Restless, she curled up on the sofa and turned on the television with the remote. There was a special program on about great white sharks, and by the time it ended, she swore she would never go into the ocean again. Channel surfing, she found an old Sherlock Holmes mystery on the BBC. She settled in and tried to pay attention, but her mind wouldn’t cooperate. She couldn’t believe how tired she was,

and it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet. Stress, she decided, was the culprit. She was anxious to get back home.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Simone. She’d never met such a cold, self-involved woman. How could Cordie’s father have loved her? Was it possible that Simone was different back then, when she was pretending to be Natalie Smith? Cordie doubted it. Maybe she was also pretending to be a decent, loving person. Maybe she’d been pretending all her life, never letting people see what was truly in her heart. Cordie’s encounter with Simone had been tense and upsetting, but it was behind her now. As she seemed to be doing over and over again, she vowed to let go of the past and move on.

Aiden came back to the suite much sooner than she expected. He looked tired, too. He barely said hello before he disappeared into his bedroom. Twenty minutes later he came back out. He had showered and was wearing sweats and a T-shirt. He moved her feet out of his way and sat next to her. His chest was still damp from the shower, and the T-shirt was molded to him. She tried not to stare, but God, he was ripped. His body was amazing.

“Are you watching this?” he asked, pointing to the television.

“Not really. You can change it.”

“The news should be coming on.” He looked around at the tables and down at the floor. “Where’s the remote?”

It took a while to locate it. He found her tube of hand lotion wedged between the cushions and her lip balm under the sofa. The remote was caught up in her robe. She stood and untied her belt, and the remote dropped to the floor.

The instant Aiden saw what she was wearing, all reason went out the window. Their eyes met, and no words were necessary. He gently pulled her down onto his lap. His eyes delved deep into hers as he slowly removed her robe and tossed it on the floor. Her camisole was next. Then he pulled off his shirt, and his gaze moved down to her beautiful breasts.

Cordie knew with one word she could stop him, but she didn’t want to. After the awful confrontation with Simone, she needed to lose herself in him. She didn’t care that all he felt for her was lust, that she was a convenience, nothing more. No, tonight she didn’t care.

She slid her arms around his neck and traced his lower lip with the tip of her tongue. When his hands roughly cupped her breasts and his thumbs brushed across her nipples, she sucked in a breath and held it.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he whispered. One hand moved to the back of her neck. “How many times do you want to come tonight?”

She couldn’t speak. It was all she could do to breathe. He didn’t wait for an answer. His mouth covered hers in a long, intense kiss. His tongue slid inside, coaxing her to respond. For long minutes he kissed and caressed her until they were both desperate for more. He swept her up in his arms and carried her into his bedroom and laid her on his bed. Her silk shorts tore in his impatience to remove them. Kicking off his sweats, he covered her body with his. He wouldn’t let her move, pinning her to the bed as he slowly moved down her body to kiss every part of her. He didn’t have to ask her if she was ready for him. Her need was so intense, her nails dug into his skin. When he entered her, the pleasure shattered her into a million pieces, and she cried out.

“You’re so tight.” He sighed. “So perfect.”

He began to move, harder, deeper, and faster until Cordie couldn’t hold back. She tightened all around him and clung to him, letting out a shout as she climaxed. The sensations coursing through her seemed to go on and on. It was both glorious and frightening. She was spiraling down, letting herself fall into the all-consuming rapture, and she never wanted to come back up. Aiden accommodated her. His endurance was incredible. She had two more orgasms before he finally found his own release.

It took much longer for Aiden to recover this time, longer, too, to let go of her. He was panting when he lifted up and looked into her eyes. He could see the passion was still there, which pleased him considerably. She was so responsive to his touch, so honest and giving. He kissed her again, long and hard; then, as before, he got out of bed without a word and went into the bathroom.

Cordie watched him disappear behind the closed door. She dropped back onto the pillow and laughed. No pillow talk, no cuddling, not even a high five. Her legs trembled and she felt weak as she got out of bed and walked into the living room. Dehydration, she decided, was the cause. That . . . and lots of sex. She found her robe, slipped it on, and got a bottle of water from the bar refrigerator, guzzling it down like a teenager at a keg party.

The phone rang. Normally she would have thought whoever was calling wasn’t very considerate, since it was after eleven, but Aiden got calls from all over the world, night and day.

“That’s probably Liam,” Aiden called out.

Cordie answered the phone expecting to hear Liam’s distinct British accent. It wasn’t Liam, but she recognized the voice. It was the same man who had called earlier asking for her father.

Now he was asking again. “Is Andrew Kane there?”

“No.”

“Will he be back soon?”

“Not likely.”

“Are you his daughter?”

Should she let him know her father had died? No, she wasn’t going tell him or Simone anything. “Yes, I am,” she replied.

His voice turned sinister. “Are you waiting for a payout?”

A payout? Apparently Cordie hadn’t convinced Simone she wasn’t here to blackmail her. Of course Simone would think she wanted money. That was all she cared about. Cordie’s answer was emphatic. “No.”

“You came here to make trouble, didn’t you? To stir it all up. We can’t let you do that.”

“We?”

“I’ve got a message for you.”

“Who is the message from?” she asked, wondering if he would tell her.

“You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“What’s the message?”

“Keep your mouth shut. If you tell anyone, if you even suggest . . .”

“Yes . . . ?” She deliberately drew out the word to irritate him.

“I’ll feed you to the crocodiles. I’ll put a bullet in the back of your head.”

“Which is it?” she asked. “Feed me to the crocodiles or put a bullet in my head? Make up your mind.” She slammed the phone down. When she turned around, she was shocked to see Aiden standing behind her. “What are you? A ninja? How long have you been standing there?”

He didn’t think the question needed an answer. “Who was on the phone? Who the—” He stopped himself before he said a foul word. “Who was threatening you?”

“I—”

The phone rang again. “Don’t answer it. I’ll get it.” He frowned at Cordie while he listened to the caller. “No, we’re both awake. Come on up.”

Come on up? The second he ended the call she demanded to know who was visiting at this hour.

“Liam.”

“Oh God. I’m naked, Aiden.”

“No, you’re wearing a robe,” he replied. “But yeah, you should probably put on some clothes.” He was talking to air. Cordie had disappeared into her bedroom and shut the door.

“Who was on the damn phone?” he shouted through the door as he put on his T-shirt.

The bell sounded for the elevator. The door opened and Liam walked into the foyer.

Aiden greeted him with a question. “Did you go into the security room and look at the footage?”

“Yes,” he answered. “I listened to the audio, too.” He added, shaking his head, “They really thought they could drag her from the hotel.”

Cordie rushed out to join them. She’d put on jeans and a white blouse. She hadn’t taken the time to tuck it in, and she hadn’t bothered with shoes either. A quick brush through her hair had taken out the tangles. Aiden tried not to react. Every time he looked at her, she became more beautiful. Her face was flushed, and he thought he could see

some slight scratches on her neck from his day’s growth of whiskers. For some inexplicable reason, he liked that.

“Hello, Liam,” Cordie said. She felt the color warming her cheeks and wondered if Liam could see what she was thinking or could tell what she and Aiden had been doing just minutes before. She was relieved when he didn’t seem to detect her embarrassment. He greeted her with a wide grin and a big hug.

Aiden felt a surge of possessiveness and thought it might be fun to throw Liam down the elevator shaft. It was crazy, his reaction. What was wrong with him? Fortunately, he was a master at keeping his emotions hidden. He’d done it most of his life.

“You’ve said hello. Now let go of her.”

“Would you like something to drink?” Cordie offered, stepping back.

“I could use a beer. I’ll get it,” Liam said, and headed to the bar.

Cordie was about to sit on the sofa when she noticed her black camisole. Mortified, she grabbed it and stuffed it behind the cushion a second before Liam sat down across from her.

Aiden stood over Cordie as he explained to Liam, “Someone called and threatened to kill her.”

“Not the first call,” she corrected.

“What?” Aiden was incredulous. “He’s called more than once?”

She nodded. “I recognized the voice. He called earlier today and asked to speak to my father.”

“Your father’s dead,” Aiden said.

Exasperated, she replied. “I know. I was at the funeral.”

“I meant to ask if you told him your father was dead,” Aiden clarified.

“No, I just told him he wasn’t here, and he said he would call back later.”

“And the second phone call?”

“He asked to speak to my father again, and then he threatened me. He said if I didn’t keep quiet he would feed me to the crocodiles and put a bullet in my head. He was making me mad, but I probably shouldn’t have taunted him.”

“How?” Liam asked.

“I asked him to make up his mind.”

Liam smiled. “Aren’t you going back to Chicago tomorrow? The last time I checked there weren’t any crocodiles in Lake Michigan.”