Текст книги "Reclaim Me"

Автор книги: Ann Marie Walker

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

He turned, his gaze darkening at the sight of her, and all at once she realized the purpose of the visit. He wanted her, needed to be with her as badly as she needed him. Leaving him in the limo the night before had felt like leaving a piece of her heart behind. She craved him, needed him desperately, especially after everything she’d been through that last day in Paris. Julian’s threats and the revelation that he’d orchestrated her parents’ murder had left her reeling. Now more than ever she needed the strength she drew from their connection. When they were together, all was right in her world. She’d been a fool to ever think otherwise.

“I’ll be in my office in an hour. Meet me there.” He was speaking into the phone, but his focus was solely on her. She could feel the heat of his stare as though it were his hands exploring her fevered skin. She returned his hungry gaze with one of her own, drinking in the sight of him. The way the hard planes of his body moved beneath his designer suit, the way his dark, unruly hair framed his beautiful face, the way his blue eyes raked her from head to toe. Everything about him had her body trembling with a desire only he could satisfy.

Hudson ended the call and slid his phone onto the empty desk.

“Whose office is this?” she asked. Under normal circumstances she wouldn’t have been comfortable having a tryst in a random office. And yet she couldn’t deny the desire she felt coursing through her veins. She wanted him too. Wanted his arms around her, his warm skin against hers, renewing their connection and bringing the soothing reassurance only he could provide. If it had been up to her they would have spent a leisurely jet-lagged morning together, making love as the sun came up over Chicago. But since neither time nor location were on their side, she’d take what she could get. And if that meant a fast fuck in a random office, then so be it. The thought alone had her pressing her thighs together in an effort to find relief.

“Mine.” He smirked. “When I need one.”

Allie glanced around the nearly bare office. A desk, a phone, a couch. Nothing to indicate one of the world’s most powerful businessmen used the room as a satellite command center. “Doesn’t look like you use it very often.”

“I don’t.” He moved toward her with a slow, predatory stride. “When I’m here it’s usually for meetings in the boardroom.” His tongue darted out to lick his lips. “Nothing requiring . . . privacy.”

“And now?” she asked. Her voice was breathy and needy.

“Now . . .” He stretched his arm out and her heart pounded in anticipation. But instead of touching her, he merely reached behind her. She heard a lock engage with a faint click. “Now I need this.” In a heartbeat he took her mouth in a bruising kiss, his fingers threading into her hair as he pushed her up against the door. She moaned when she felt the urgent press of his erection straining against her core, and her lips parted, allowing his tongue to slide fast and hot over hers.

Groaning, Hudson pulled away just long enough to speak. “It fucking killed me to be without you last night.” His lips moved with hers again and his hands slid down the column of her throat, across her shoulders, and to her breasts, pausing to brush his thumbs across her taut nipples before smoothing over her waist and the curve of her hips. “I can’t keep my hands off you. I need to feel you.” He flexed against her and a warm rush of desire flooded her core. “I need to be inside you.”

A whimper escaped her lips. “Yes,” she said, breathing hard and trembling with need. “Please . . .”

With that he bent low and lifted her, hooking her legs around his waist. He carried her to the couch, where he laid her out lengthwise along the cushions, then lowered himself so his body loomed over hers. Allie wasted no time reaching for his fly, her eager fingers jerking his belt loose before yanking his zipper down to free his throbbing erection.

Hudson reared back, pulling her panties down and over her stilettos. “Definitely leaving these on.” Curling his fingers around one ankle, he spread her open, placing her foot on his shoulder. His eyes darkened as his gaze dropped to where she was wet and aching for him. With one finger he traced her quivering entrance. “You’re soaked for me, baby. So swollen and slick.”

The pad of his thumb stroked over the top of her sex as his middle finger slipped inside her. Allie’s back arched off the coach as he eased out, then back in with a second finger, preparing her for what would no doubt be a fast and furious ride.

“Don’t make me wait, Hudson,” she panted. “I’m ready.”

He claimed her mouth again, his tongue filling her with a deep, searing stroke as he pushed into her on a single thrust. The dual assault was overwhelming. She moaned and her hips lifted, trying to get more of him inside her.

“That’s it, take me. Take all of me.” Hudson’s neck chorded with strain as he pulled back and thrust again, forcing his way deeper as her body clenched around him.

Instinct took over and she began to move with him, her hands clawing at his hair and down his back.

“Christ, Allie, you feel so good.” His voice was rough, carnal, and as desperate as the moment between them. “It’s like you were made to fuck me.”

“You. Only you.” And it was true. No one had ever affected her the way Hudson did. Her reaction to him was more than physical; it was raw and primal and as essential as the air she breathed. He was what she needed, what she craved.

The couch thumped against the wall as Hudson powered into her with slick, relentless drives. Over and over he took her—harder, faster, deeper—fucking her like a man possessed until her core began to spasm.

“Come for me,” he growled. “Give me what’s mine.”

“I love you,” she gasped as the sweet release of her orgasm rolled through her.

Hudson’s head dropped on a groan and his body jerked, driving to the hilt one last time as he came deep inside her. “I love you, too,” he said, his breath gusting harsh against her ear. His broad palm smoothed down her thigh and carefully lowered her leg.

Allie wrapped her arms around him and her eyes drifted shut. They lay like that for long moments, their hearts beating in time as their collective breathing slowed and reality seeped back into their consciousness. When Hudson finally lifted his head, he did his best to offer a reassuring smile, but the haunted look in his eyes was like a knife to Allie’s soul. He lowered his head to rest it on her chest and her arms around him tightened, too afraid to let go.

Chapter Eight

In the tight confines of the elevator at Chase Industries, Hudson could still smell Allie on his skin. He could feel the lingering sensation of her gripping him, and he could hear the noises she made when she came. God, the thought of her was making his cock go Sear’s Tower behind his fly. After their early morning quickie, he should’ve been relaxed and ready to roll through the rest of the day like a well-satisfied man. Instead he was wired, and now had a hard-on.

For fuck’s sake.

The elevator glided to a stop and Hudson shot out like a horse at the gate. His assistant was waiting for him just outside the doors. Hudson glanced over at him and caught sight of a hyper-pink bow tie. Jesus fucking Christ, hadn’t that trend worn itself out by now?

“Afternoon, Mr. Chase.” Darren took a couple quick steps to catch up, then fell into stride alongside him. “Ben Weiss called; so did that woman from the Ingram board, and Laurie from the press department. Three times,” he added, continuing to scroll through his iPad. Darren preferred modern technology to scraps of paper, which Hudson appreciated. He had enough paper cluttering his desk. He didn’t need a million color-coordinated Post-its stuck to every damn surface. “Oh, and Sophia requested that you call her as soon as you get her message.”

“Of course,” Hudson muttered. “Anyone else?”

“About a half-dozen more.” Darren grinned. “Your harem awakens.”

The news that he and Allie had split must have hit the newsstands and gossip rags, which would explain the ghosts of girlfriends past along with why his PR department was blowing up his call list. He could already picture the headlines, and just like that, the impulse to safeguard Allie’s heart, in addition to her well-being, kicked in. The implication that they had broken up grated against his nerves. He wanted to buy every newspaper, magazine or blog that had reported the story, then fire them all for splashing that horseshit across their pages. They needed the world to believe their relationship was over, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“Darren, normally I appreciate your sense of humor along with your efficiency, but not today.” Hudson’s jaw tightened.

“My apologies, sir. The numbers, times, and messages have been uploaded to your call list. The contracts needing your signature are arranged in order of priority on your desk. The one on top is time sensitive.” Darren was back to business as they closed in on his office. “And your first meeting is all set up in the conference room, as requested.”

“How long have they been waiting?”

Darren pushed his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Five minutes at the most.”

“Hold all my calls until I say otherwise.” Hudson strode past his office and into the adjoining conference room. Max was seated at the table along with two men and a woman, all strategically facing the door. Hudson’s gaze drifted from one to the next. Without a doubt each of them were skilled observers, protectors, and when shit hit the fan, killers, if need be. He gave them a quick nod as he shut the door. “Good morning.”

“Mr. Chase.” Max stood up, and in perfect unison, the other three did as well. There was an elegance to the way they moved, efficient and smooth. These were not rent-a-cops. Max only worked with the best, and these individuals were deadly weapons in the guise of civilians.

“Please sit.” Hudson unbuttoned his suit jacket and took a seat at the head of the table. The group followed his lead, lowering their bodies with the same efficiency. “I appreciate you all coming on such short notice. Before we discuss why you’re here, I like to know who I’m talking to.”

Max nodded to his left. “This is Ivan,” he said, offering no last name. The man was built like a tank, and when he shifted his massive body into a more comfortable position, the cuff of his shirt rode up, revealing tattoos that undoubtedly covered his arm in a full sleeve. “Former US Special Forces and high precision marksman.” So in other words, a sniper. As if confirming Hudson’s train of thought, Max added, “Ivan has extensive training in observation, surveillance, and target acquisition, as well as unconventional warfare.”

“Unconventional warfare?” Hudson lifted a brow.

“Hybrid tactics combining protocol with unorthodox methods,” Ivan answered.

Military tactics weren’t Hudson’s forte, but dollars to shit piles he’d just been fed a diplomatic explanation of guerilla warfare. His gaze shifted to the guy with the military-grade haircut. His suit was perfectly tailored, his white shirt high on the starch, and judging by the sharp, clean edges, his hair was freshly trimmed. This was a guy you’d pass on the street a hundred times without noticing.

“Jim,” he said. “CIA.”

Well, that explained his John Doe look—he wasn’t in the market to be noticed or draw attention. No further description of Jim’s training was given, nor was more needed.

Next was the only woman on Max’s team. With her slight build and long blond hair, she could have passed for Allie at a distance. Hudson wondered if that was merely coincidental or part of a contingency plan. Either way, he thought, the similarity could prove useful in the future.

“Jessica, former Israeli intelligence, computer science and communications expert.” There was no artifice to her introduction; it was clear and concise.

“Pleasure to meet you, Jessica, Ivan, Jim.” Hudson said their names, though he doubted they were the ones bestowed upon them at birth. “I’m sure you’re as anxious as I am to get started, so I’ll dive right in. Victoria and Richard Sinclair were murdered in cold blood at their Lake Forest home. Shot to death—Richard in his study and Victoria in the dining room.”

Max hit a button on a remote, and in unison a screen lowered and the lights dimmed. With another push of a button images from the crime scene flashed in full color: Richard slumped over his desk, Victoria on the dining room floor. Hudson had seen the images before, but knowing Julian was responsible, and that he had his sights set on Allie, spun them in an even darker light.

“The police labeled it a home invasion,” Hudson continued, “until a cataloging of the home’s contents revealed nothing was missing with the exception of Mrs. Sinclair’s engagement ring.” A large sapphire surrounded by a ring of diamonds filled the screen. “A few weeks later, a known assassin was found dead with that ring in his possession.”

Max hit the remote and pictures of the murdered gun-for-hire flashed onscreen, one after the other. Hudson had no idea how his head of security had gotten his hands on them, and he had no intention of asking. When it came to this assignment, the less he knew, the better.

“The Sinclair murders were sloppy for a professional hit,” Ivan said. “Especially the wife.”

“The police believe that was intentional,” Hudson said. “To make it look more like a break-in gone bad.”

“Then why take out the shooter?” Jessica asked.

“Loose end.” Jim casually crossed his leg at the knee. “Is there a money trail?”

“None that the authorities have been able to find. But I’ve recently learned that the man responsible for orchestrating their deaths is Julian Laurent.” A picture from the Laurent website popped up, and in spite of the gravity, Hudson nearly laughed. The fucker looked more like Miss Clairol than the head of a global conglomerate.

“Is he on Chicago PD’s radar?” Ivan asked.

“No. And his alibi is rock solid, placing him in France at the time of the murders.”

Ivan frowned. “Wait, isn’t he engaged to their daughter?”

“Was.” Hudson’s voice was clipped. Hearing Julian referred to as Allie’s fiancé, regardless of his current status, didn’t set well, and seeing the two of them together was even worse. He bit down on his molars as their official engagement photo flashed onto the screen.

The sound of Jim’s voice was a welcome distraction from the sight of Julian’s hand curled possessively around Allie’s shoulder. “Are you sure your information is reliable?”

“From the man himself,” Hudson said. “Alessandra Sinclair is being blackmailed by Laurent into marrying him for the sole purpose of gaining control of Ingram Media. He incarcerated her at his château in Paris for several hours yesterday after luring her there under the pretense of returning his engagement ring.”

“Tacky of him to ask her to return it,” Jessica said, completely unfazed by the mention of blackmail or kidnapping.

“It is a family heirloom gifted down from one French fuck to another.” Hudson dragged in a breath and made an effort to sound more politically correct. “I’m sure there are decent individuals in the Laurent family, but right now I’d like to annihilate their entire bloodline.” Okay, not entirely PC, but he was way past playing nice.

“Appropriate given the origin of the piece,” Ivan said dryly.

Back to business. “Over the course of his conversation with Miss Sinclair, Laurent admitted to murdering her parents. But we have no proof, no money tied to the hit, and an assassin whose talking days are over. That’s where you come in.” Hudson’s options were limited to the confines of the law, but this group could push the boundaries and end this nightmare by any means necessary. “If you’re as good as Max says you are, then I’m certain with your combined expertise you can nail the son of a bitch.”

Ivan leaned forward in his chair. “If I may, what’s your stake in all this?”

“I have a vested interest as a significant shareholder of Ingram Media.”

“And your relationship to Miss Sinclair?” he asked.

Hudson pushed to his feet and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. In the distance he could see the river cutting the city in half, and Ingram Media on the opposite bank. Somewhere in that building was the woman who owned every corner of his heart and his entire soul; the woman he’d sacrifice himself to protect. He glanced over his shoulder at the team of intelligence experts he’d assembled to quite literally save her life. “Business associates.”

“No offense, Mr. Chase,” Jessica said. “But a man doesn’t go to all this trouble for a business associate.” He noted the sardonic tone in her voice. “Especially one that just broke his heart. Again.”

Hudson turned away from the window and his eyes clashed with Jessica’s. “I didn’t take you for the type to gather intel from gossip sites.”

“Video paparazzi can provide valuable surveillance footage.” She smiled. “Unknowingly, of course.”

Hudson narrowed his gaze. “I protect my investments.”

Ivan snorted. “I think I speak for the group when I say none of us are buying that.”

“There is a modicum of respect I demand from individuals when in the confines of my building, Ivan. I’ve earned it.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve earned the same, Mr. Chase, and I’m well compensated for it. I’m also good at reading people, and I can tell you’re a man with an instinctual drive to protect. I admire it, but it’s your Achilles’ heel as well as your strength. And can you honestly say you’re offended I want to cut through the crap?”

Far from it. In fact, he was actually starting to like the guy. The goddamn bastard was observant and he wasn’t throwing any punches. He also wasn’t a man who was easily intimidated. By anyone.

Jim cleared his throat. “I think what Ivan is trying to so eloquently say”—he cut his eyes at his military counterpart—“is that you need to level with us. We can’t operate at top form without all the necessary information.”

Hudson ran a hand back through his hair. Jim had a point. They couldn’t be expected to deliver results without reading the fine print. “What do you need?”

“It would be helpful to know the nature of the blackmail as well as the extent of your relationship with Miss Sinclair.”

Hudson joined them at the table. “Alessandra and I have been involved since shortly before Christmas. One of Julian’s demands was that she end our relationship, which he and the press believe she did last night. He’s made it clear he intends to use her status in the US to catapult himself to the equivalent of American royalty. He wants . . .” What’s mine. “My shares of Ingram Media as well.”

The three operatives listened as Hudson outlined the details of Julian’s plan. No notes were taken, no paper trail created, but he knew they were absorbing and analyzing every detail. When he was finished, it was Jim who spoke first.

“What concessions are you willing to make?” he asked.

“Such as?”

Ivan piped up. “Keeping your distance from Miss Sinclair, restricting your . . . activities together. Perhaps even leaving the city.”

“Our activities are none of your business. And while I’m equipped to work anywhere in the world, Julian’s plan hinges on Miss Sinclair’s ability to convince me to part with my shares of Ingram. Even if it didn’t, there’s no way I would leave town. I’ll jump through the necessary hoops to convince Julian that Allie is following his directives, but the only way I’m staying one hundred percent away from her”—Hudson leveled his stare on Ivan—“is if I’m dead.”

Jim’s voice was solemn when he spoke. “Mr. Chase, if you don’t do as we advise, that could be a distinct possibility.”

“And if this Laurent character is as crazy he sounds, he already has your plots picked out,” Ivan added.

Max cut Ivan a look.

“What?” Ivan said in return. “You know as well as I do what people are capable of. Hell, look at what this guy has already done.”

“Nonetheless,” Hudson said, “Julian is expecting me to pursue her. A certain amount of interaction will assure him things are progressing as planned.”

“Which brings us back to the question of leverage,” Jim said.

When Hudson hesitated, Ivan spoke up. “We’re all in this line of work because we don’t always play nice with authority,” he said. “But discretion and confidentiality are nonnegotiable. We wouldn’t last long otherwise. When you get our bill, you’ll see our services come at a very high price. Might as well get your money’s worth.”

Hudson let out a resigned breath. “Julian is in possession of a surveillance video that could prove harmful to people Miss Sinclair cares about.” That’s all he said, and in his opinion that was all they needed to know. Aside from Allie and himself, Max was the only person who knew what was on that video, and Hudson intended to keep it that way.

“So you’re looking for something to hold over his head,” Jessica said. It was more statement than question. “A trade of sorts.”

“Video can be forged and manipulated,” Jim said. “Which is why copies can be easily discredited. The original footage is your primary concern.”

“Max is handling that aspect of the investigation. Your objective is to locate evidence that connects Julian to the deaths of Richard and Victoria Sinclair. I need proof he was the executioner, and I need it before the police.”

“Understood,” the three of them said as one.

“Max.” Hudson nodded to his right-hand man.

“These envelopes contain copies of the crime scene photos and police reports, along with the statements taken from Miss Sinclair, the housekeeper, and the neighbors.” Max slid the manila envelopes across the glossy mahogany one at a time. Ivan slapped his palm down on top of the thick packet to bring it to a stop, then Jim and Jessica followed suit. “You will also find the full work-up of the subject, including the addresses of numerous properties, the various holdings in his family’s trust, and a few of the more mundane facts as well: what he smokes, what he drinks, and his, ah . . .” Max cleared his throat. “Preferences.”

Hudson knew Max was censoring himself for his benefit. The report inside those envelopes no doubt detailed Julian’s “preference” for hookers or social climbing nymphets game for a threesome.

“Do we have eyes on the ground in France?” Jim asked.

Max nodded. “I’ve also placed someone here at Chase Industries and at Ingram for Miss Sinclair.” Max twisted the gold band on his left hand. “If he has someone watching her—”

“He does,” Hudson said. “Julian knew the second we landed at O’Hare and that we shared a limo to her house.”

“Well, the guy now has a new shadow,” Ivan said. “Round the clock. Julian’s stooges don’t only work the day shift, so neither do I. Although I’m not a morning person.” He cracked some semblance of a smile. “And I’d like my coffee black.”

Hudson fixed him with a hard stare. “I don’t fetch coffee, GI Joe. And I’m not paying you to sit on your ass and drink it.”

Ivan chuckled. “I’m liking your boy here, Max.” His words were said without an ounce of condescension. “You’ve got balls of steel under that prissy Tom Ford, dontcha, Mr. Chase?”

“Ralph Lauren Black Label,” Jim corrected. Hudson was impressed. The guy clearly knew his suits.

“Where do we go from here?” Hudson asked, refocusing the conversation.

“Jessica will be conducting back channel investigations,” Max said.

“Most of it’s done on the dark web,” she explained. “If there’s a trail of cash, I’ll find it there.”

“We’ll get started right away,” Jim said, offering no details as to his role in the group.

“Good. I expect results.” Hudson stood. “Funds will be wired to your specified accounts by the end of the day and Max has full authority to approve any additional expenses.” He checked the Patek Philips strapped to his wrist. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another meeting.”