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“No, that was delicious. Thank you.”
“I’ll walk you back. If you behave yourself, we’ll have supper in town after I’ve tortured and tantalized you,” he promised, an evil glint in his eye that made her stomach flip. “If you don’t, we won’t be going anywhere, and you’ll be a very sorry little girl.”
Chapter 10
Returning to his den, Marco picked up Steph’s purse, settled on his couch, and pulled back the zipper. Spilling the contents on the cushion next to him, he zeroed in on a notebook, her wallet, and a business card holder. As he opened the wallet and removed the cash, he found a small, folded piece of paper. Opening it up, he caught his breath.
Oleg and Ivan Zeppelin.
License Plates: 8UVX005 & 4BDF834
“Fuck!”
The word spilled from his lips in a hushed breath.
In a nano-second things had gone from bad to lethal.
There would be no dinner in town.
She hadn’t just been following him, she’d also been tailing the Zeppelins. Now he was sure the brothers had ransacked her apartment, and if they saw her in his company there was no telling what conclusions they might draw.
She had put weeks of work in jeopardy.
He needed to think.
Going back through her belongings and making sure he hadn’t missed anything, he returned them to her purse, then strode from the room and down the hall.
“Hey, Benny,” he said, poking his head in the security room. “Anything to report?”
“Nothing so far.”
“I need to clear my head. I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Marching into the foyer, he paused at the closet to grab a jacket, bundled it on as he walked out the door, and gratefully breathing in the brisk mountain air, he started off. Hiking through the forest was where he did his best thinking. There was nothing to distract him. No urgent messages, no phone calls, just the sounds of nature to soothe his soul.
Connecting with the Zeppelins had been a tough call, but they were evil personified and had to be stopped. Only Joe and Benny, his long-time friends and capos, knew the truth about his involvement.
Flashing back to what he’d seen on Steph’s computer, he let out a worried sigh. It was a picture of him shaking hands with Oleg Zeppelin taken with a zoom lens. They’d been standing near a window inside a hotel room on the fifth floor.
“Dammit, Steph,” he muttered. “Did you take it, or that private dick? What’s his story? This is so fucking bad.”
Hiking up a steep slope, he reached the top and stared down at the river below. It was a long drop into an icy, raging river.
An abyss.
Like the one he now faced.
Ambling to a nearby tree trunk, he sat down, rested his elbows on his knees, locked his fingers together, and began to think.
Steph knew he was connected to the Zeppelins, that’s why she’d been following him and had pursued him to the lodge. It had nothing to do with snapping his photograph. He’d give her one more chance to spill her guts—with honey instead of vinegar.
Sensuously seduce her.
Charm her.
Win her trust.
