Smoke and Sin (The Perfect Gentlemen 4)

Gus curled up in bed an hour later, her body still pulsing with the most recent orgasm Roman had given her. Her fourth of the night. It was surprising she could still move. The man hadn’t lost a bit of his athleticism.

The light went out, plunging the room into warm darkness. Roman crawled back into bed and skated a hand up her leg, settling on her hip. He hooked his arm around her waist, pulling her against his body. Such delicious heat. She couldn’t help but wriggle against him, getting as close as their bodies allowed. Funny, after he’d been gone from her life, his nearness was one of the things she’d missed most.

“I set the alarm,” he assured in a whisper. “I’m going to be totally useless tomorrow.”

“Me, too. But we have to talk. Kemp is going to be on the move after tomorrow.” Perhaps after sex was the time to bring up her plan, rather than following her investigative jaunt to the country. He’d be sated, easygoing now. She wasn’t trying to manipulate him, just ease the conversation. Besides, if she didn’t bring this up now, he’d be gone by sunrise.

“I know. I already took care of the Kemp issue.” He kissed her shoulder.

She had to force herself to sound calm. “Took care of it how?”

“Connor’s going to follow him.”

“We agreed we’d do that together.”

“Too much to do, and it’s getting really dangerous. So I talked to Connor about it tonight. This is his wheelhouse. He spent a lifetime as a spy, so he’ll be better at staying under the radar of a trained agent than either of us. He’ll keep you in the loop. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve got this. All you have to do is work with Liz and let me take care of you.”

The warmth Gus had been feeling moments earlier vanished, and she realized she wasn’t the one using sex to manipulate.

Roman had gotten smarter over the years. He’d almost figured out how to play her.

Connor would keep her in the “loop,” huh? She was certain Connor’s loop would only include what Roman and Zack wanted her to know. She wasn’t a complete idiot. If Roman had talked to Connor tonight, he’d done it with Zack present. After all that blackmail talk, he wouldn’t have told one and not the other about her plans to investigate Kemp. Gabe probably knew her secret, too. They’d likely sent the women away, then plotted how to keep them out of it, how to keep all the information to themselves and use it to their benefit.

They wouldn’t allow themselves to think about Mad. They would think of the living. Gus was the only one who gave a shit about her oldest friend not having died in vain and resting in peace.

But it also told her that her bargain with Roman, the sex they’d had, and his flimsy assurances had been mere strategy meant to soften her attitude and persuade her compliance.

Fuck that.

“You all right, baby?”

If she fought him now, he would simply reassess and come at her another way, like put so many security guards on her she couldn’t sneeze without him knowing. Maybe even send her immediately back to DC. Gus couldn’t risk that.

“I’m fine. I’m thinking about tomorrow. Lots of meetings.”

“You’re not upset about me handing this over to Connor? Zack needs me in these meetings and I don’t want you doing this on your own, baby. It’s too dangerous. After tonight, you must see that.” His arm tightened around her as though he was afraid she might bolt from the bed.

She saw that he was a snake in the grass. He wanted Connor to take over the investigation so he could control everything. If she’d been in their last good-old-boys powwow, she would have found out how all these seemingly random facts and events were connected. But no, she’d been sent away like a bad little girl so the big boys could plot without the women worrying their pretty heads.

Gus also feared he’d never meant to keep any of his promises.

“You’re right. When you’ve got a former CIA agent in your pocket, you should probably use him.” And she would. She would let him trail Kemp and never once complain because tomorrow morning, she would go to the hospital herself and find the answers she needed.

Then tomorrow night, once she had the information she sought, she would tell Roman exactly where he could shove his deal.

“It’s going to be okay. I’ll make sure of it,” he murmured with an absent kiss.

After a few minutes, she heard his breathing slow and the arm around her midsection went lax with sleep.

Gus stayed awake, her mind whirling. She had to deal with everything—Mad’s murder, the sudden blackmail, whatever trouble Zack was up to his eyeballs in—on her own. She was alone again.

And nothing between her and Roman had really changed. Now she was pretty sure it never would.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Roman glanced down at his phone. Still no response from Gus. He’d texted her a couple of times to say hi and ask her how the day was going. And…maybe to keep track of her a little. He didn’t like the fact that she was in London and he was hours away at the sanatorium. If she got into trouble, he couldn’t reach her quickly.

Of course, Connor was there, keeping an eye on Kemp. Still, Roman wanted to call her and hear her voice, but he was supposed to be in a series of meetings. He’d thought of joining them via phone while he’d been driving up, but the line had to be absolutely secure. And he didn’t need anyone else asking where he was going or why, especially if Gus overheard.

They had reunited less than twenty-four hours ago, and he was already lying to her.

“You the man who’s come about some old records?” The receptionist was dressed in soft scrubs, her dark hair pulled into a tight bun. Her name tag merely read Yolanda, with none of the designations that explained an employee’s function around a place like this.

He slipped his phone back in his pocket. Gus was probably consumed with her work. Putting together a press conference that included the prime minister of Great Britain and the president of the United States was no small feat. “Yes, I made an appointment to talk to the director of the hospital.”

“He’s in a meeting right now, but he should be available soon,” she replied. “That one didn’t have an appointment at all, but she’s damn fine at talking her way in, if you know what I mean. Don’t hurt none that she’s a looker. Dr. Billings took one look at that and he no longer cared about his by-appointment-only policy. Sorry.”

So he was getting sidelined because the doctor was horny.

“If it doesn’t take too long, fine. I’m a busy man,” Roman said, then remembered that his usual “I’m the White House chief of staff and you will do my bidding” routine wouldn’t work here. Besides, he needed to keep this trip on the down low or he’d run the risk of having reporters on his

ass. He had to operate under the radar until he got his hands on whatever information he could and returned to London. “But I can wait a few minutes.”

He also needed to be back with Augustine.

The nurse nodded his way. “I’ll go and interrupt him shortly. I don’t mind doing that none at all. He’s a bit high on his own self, if you know what I mean.”

“I work with a lot of people like that, so yes,” he replied. “I probably am a person like that. Or at least my girlfriend would likely say so.”

Wow. He’d called Gus his girlfriend. And he’d liked it.

It had occurred to Roman this morning as he and Gus were getting dressed that they didn’t have to stop seeing each other when the danger passed. Having a quiet breakfast with her, passing the newspaper back and forth, and talking about the headlines had been a nice way to start the day.

Yolanda laughed. “I say that about my husband, too, but I’m telling you he ain’t got nothing on these doctors. You treat one or two celebs and suddenly they think they’re god’s gift to clean living.”

It occurred to him that he could put his wait to good use. Yolanda looked to be in her late thirties, perhaps early forties, and she had the eager look of a gossip. The waiting room was empty, and when he’d walked up she’d been filing her nails. No wonder she was happy for the chat.

“How long has Dr. Billings been the director here?” he asked.

“A couple of years now, but he’s worked here for ages. He’s the worst of ’em. Calls hisself the doctor to the stars and all.”

“Do you get to meet them? The stars, that is?”

She shrugged. “Not really, but I don’t mind. They’re usually all drugged up when they first arrive. And when they leave, they tend to go quietly. No one wants to admit they’ve been here. Except the druggies. They want to pat themselves on the back about how they got clean, but the others, the ones who have come because they’re supposedly not right in the head… I wonder.”