Текст книги "The Gilded Chain"

Автор книги: Lauren Smith

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

Chapter 6

What’s the matter?” Wes asked as he came back to her, the cognac and chocolate in a pink-and-black bag.

“Nothing.” She flashed him a falsely bright smile.

He pursed his lips, thunderclouds gathering in his eyes. “When we return home, you will tell me what’s bothering you.”

“Sure,” she lied and looked away, but not before she saw the dark retribution his gaze promised.

Neither of them spoke as they waited for Michel to drive them back to the hotel. She was grateful for Michel’s timely arrival. Even after years of ranch labor, she was not used to five straight hours of shopping and walking around Paris. Concrete hurt her feet a lot more than the soft cushion of Colorado soil. There was so much she’d taken for granted. And she was overwhelmed. Drastically so. She missed the Broken Spur, missed the birds and the distant sounds of cattle. And missing that made her feel small and pitiful. All she’d ever wanted was to get away, to leave the ranch. She’d been gone three days and now she felt stranded and abandoned.

“Est-ce que la jeune dame se sent bien?” Michel queried. Wes, in the seat beside her, looked at Michel in the driver’s seat.

“Oui. Je pense qu’elle a eu le mal du pays,” Wes replied, telling Michel that Callie was probably homesick. He hoped Callie was only homesick and not regretting coming with him.

“Ahh, bien sûr. Je comprend.” Michel turned in his seat while they paused at the red light and caught Callie’s eye. “Do not be sad, mademoiselle. Embrace Paris,” he encouraged.

Callie smiled but her heart wasn’t in it.

When they arrived at the apartment she saw that all of the shopping had been delivered already. The endless site of bags and boxes made her run for her room. Wes was quick and just as she reached the curling stairs, he grabbed her waist from behind and dragged her back against him. She kicked out, trying to escape his hold.

“Stop,” he growled in her ear.

She sagged, too weary to fight. When she went limp, he loosened his hold and turned her in his arms. He was a few steps lower on the stairs and they were face to face.

“Talk to me. I can’t fix whatever it is if you don’t talk to me.”

Talk? He wanted her to talk? An unexpected streak of anger fueled her enough to respond.

“This is too much, Wes. I’m not the kind of girl you need, and I miss the ranch and…” She bit her lip. “And I know what you want. You made it clear with that whole bet in the barn. But I can’t hide the truth. You terrify me. I’ve never been with a man before and—”

“What?” This time Wes was the one who looked dumbfounded. “You’re a virgin?” The way he said “virgin,” with a mixture of shock and dread were the final nails in her coffin. She burst into tears and fled up the stairs to her room. He didn’t stop her this time. Collapsing onto her bed, she buried her face in one of the pillows and cried. She’d never felt more stupid in her life. What had she been thinking coming here with him? They were the least likely two people to be together in the history of the world. They had nothing in common. Nothing except art.

A few seconds later she heard footsteps and the bed sank as Wes sat down beside her. A hand touched her back, smoothing her hair and rubbing her tense shoulders.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would it have mattered?” she asked, her voice muffled, but she refused to look at him.

“Darling,” he murmured so tenderly that she wanted to cry harder. How could he do that? Be so dark and intense one minute and sweet the next?

“It matters. I would have done everything so differently.” He rolled her onto her back and wiped tears from her cheeks.

“How?” she managed to ask.

He leaned down and kissed her. Slow, deep, that playful teasing. Before she could stop herself, her hands were in his hair, lightly tugging on the strands.

Stop fighting, a voice in her head whispered. He’s a gorgeous man and he wants you, and you want him. The voice in her head was right. She was overthinking this for sure, but she wasn’t ready to go all the way.

He did nothing else except kiss her. But the kiss was hot, wet, full of wicked desire that made her forget the world around her. It was a kiss full of promise and she knew she was accepting whatever would follow, even though it wouldn’t be tonight.

When he stopped the kiss and drew back, he stroked her cheek. “Tonight you will sleep with me in my bed.” He nuzzled her nose with his. “I know you miss home. Allow me to hold you and you won’t be alone.” He paused. “Tonight won’t be about the bet. It’s about comfort. All right?”

Callie nodded. The man could have talked angels into giving away their haloes without a second thought. Sleeping with him would lead to other things. Her body was completely on board with that plan already, and it was only a matter of time before the rest of her went along with it.

“You shouldn’t be afraid of me. Do you understand? I won’t hurt you.” He paused as though debating with something inside himself. “Do you know what BDSM is?” he asked.

Callie nodded. She’d read plenty of romances over the last couple of years and had enjoyed the more erotic, edgy ones, the ones that made her physically react when she’d read them. But those were fantasy. You couldn’t have that with a man in real life.

“Did Hayden tell you what sort of man I am? That my desires run along those lines?”

As he spoke, she saw nearly all the barriers between them crumble. This was a piece of his private life and he was sharing it with her.

“She didn’t tell me,” Callie replied. “Do you want to do that stuff with me?” Her breath seemed to catch in her throat and waver like a frightened bird.

“You want an honest answer?” He still stroked her face, as though the touch soothed him. The late afternoon sun hit his hair, making the red gleam and seem to burn with vibrant colors.

“Yes. I want an honest answer.” She lifted herself into a sitting position, ready to face him as an equal but it only put her closer to him, making her feel his body heat. His presence was all consuming.

“I want to do many things to you. Some of them might seem frightening, but I know what I’m doing. However”—he paused as his fingers moved from her face to her hair and fisted gently but firmly in the strands—“you’re a virgin. You don’t need that sort of intensity. Not yet. And if you never want to try anything else you need only say so. The power to tell me no, that is and always will be yours, but until you say it, I will continue to come after you, Callie. Do you understand? I enjoy the chase and you’ve run me ragged these last few months. I haven’t enjoyed anything this much in a very long time. So as long as you wish it, I’ll continue to pursue you, however long it takes until you’re mine.”

His words raised a thousand questions. She wanted to know everything but she’d never discussed something so intimate before in her life.

“Ask me anything. I’ll tell you,” he promised, as though he could read the racing thoughts in her mind.

“Really?” She sat up a little more. His hand in her hair slid down to cup the back of her neck and he massaged her tense muscles.

“Yes.”

“Do you…” She weighed her question carefully. “Like to hurt a woman in bed?” She’d read some books about men who were sadists, and that hadn’t interested her at all. She wasn’t a masochist.

“I’ve caused some pain, but always accompanied by pleasure and only because my bed partner has needed it. I prefer my hand, a paddle, or a light flogger for mild punishment or erotic punishment. You know the difference?”

She shook her head.

“Mild punishment is for when you’ve done something that’s displeased me. Likely I’ll spank you with a paddle or my hand. A few stinging blows, nothing that will leave a real mark and shouldn’t bruise. Erotic punishment isn’t done for behavior. It’s done because you need it to heighten your climax. A bed partner on the verge of coming can sometimes have a more intense experience if there’s a hint of pain or even just a new pattern of stimulation. A light flogger is best for this.” He brushed teasing fingers over the side of her hip. “A master dominant can trail the strands of a flogger over a submissive’s skin so delicately that she feels she’s being kissed rather than flogged. It can warm her skin, rather than burn it. Stimulate her need for a faint sting, and then reward her with exquisite pleasure.”

Callie’s mouth was so dry she struggled to swallow. The idea of her naked, Wes wielding a flogger, just enough to make her come so hard she screamed…dear God.

“I see we have something to explore there, don’t we?” he mused with a wicked glint in his eyes. She finally swallowed and he noticed, still grinning.

“And bondage?” she asked.

The smile flashed was all wolf. “So you do know a little about my world.” The pride in his tone shouldn’t have made her happy, but for some strange reason she was.

“Well? Do you do bondage?” she prodded.

He moved so fast she could only squeak in surprise. He had her pinned on her back on the bed, her wrists held in one of his hands, trapping them above her head. His other hand rubbed her waist, playing with the bottom of her shirt. Callie struggled against his hold, shocked by how alive she felt simply by his holding her captive. Her lower body thrummed with eager anticipation.

“Does that answer your question?” He was so close to her that she could feel the energy and excitement coiling in his body as he gazed at her mouth.

“Yes,” she whispered, feeling like anything louder would destroy what was sizzling beneath her skin and his. She liked feeling on the edge with him. There was no denying that. She had been around him long enough to know that she enjoyed the way he scattered her senses, like riding through a field sending a flock of birds soaring into the sky. He shocked her, excited her, and the fear of his intensity was lessening. If she could ask questions and he’d give her honest answers, that was worth trusting.

“Anything else you want to ask?” He licked his lips, like a wolf eyeing a lone deer, but he didn’t attack. He held back, and she could see that the effort to do so cost him.

“Maybe later, after I’ve had a drink. I can drink here, right?” She couldn’t help but watch his lips as they quirked into a hint of a smile.

“I keep forgetting you’re not even twenty-one. Yes, drinking here for you is legal.” He grew serious again.

“Just because I’m young doesn’t mean I’m a child,” she said. If he wanted her, and she was finally accepting that he did, then he needed to treat her like an adult.

“Believe me, I don’t think of you as a child. Young and innocent, but not a child.”

She hadn’t thought much of their age difference, but twelve years was a long time in some respects. He’d had scores of lovers, had lived on the earth that much longer and experienced so much more of everything. Would he find her youth and inexperience tiring?

“I’ve been honest with you. Now it’s your turn. Something is bothering you and I want to know what it is.”

Summoning up every bit of her courage, she met his stare evenly. “Does it bother you that I’m not experienced? That I’m a virgin?”

One corner of his mouth twitched. “You’re very brave, Callie. I’ve never met a woman as brave as you.”

“Brave? I’m not brave,” she said and snorted. She got scared all the time. “You didn’t answer my question.”

His hand on her waist drifted upward, sliding underneath the loose shirt and cupping one breast over her bra. It was unexpected and she arched upwardly, instinctively pressing herself into his hand.

“I’ve always had women who were nothing like you,” he murmured in that seductive, caressing tone that made her melt inside. His fingers caught her erect nipple through her bra and he lightly pinched it as he talked.

With a little hiss of breath at the pricking touch, she jolted, more than ever aware of where his hand was and what it was doing.

Wes continued to talk as he rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “You see everything differently. The world is new and shiny. Life holds so much of everything. I am fascinated by you and I want to do so much with you. I’ve never brought a woman to my apartment here in Paris before. I’ve never been with a virgin before.” He chuckled. “You’re a first for me in many ways.”

She knew in that moment she was seeing a different Wes. This one was almost entirely unguarded. No games, no secrets, no hidden agendas. Only truth and desire existed between them. Her heart gave a sudden beat, as though it had been dead for centuries and was humming back to life, shaking dust off its tomb. Her body was already well on the way to its own decision. She would make love to him. Not right away, but soon. Fenn was gone. There was no childhood dream left to capture. She would make new dreams, ones with other men in them.

“We can go slow?” she asked. “I’m not ready tonight, but…I want to be with you.” She didn’t want to let him win the bet between them, but she knew now what was burning between them was inevitable. And he had known from the start. Maybe that’s why he’d made the bet to begin with, because he’d known it would come down to this and she’d give in. A flicker of guilt moved through her, but she shoved it away. She refused to think of the bet, and her losing. Not right now.

Before she could say anything else, he was kissing her again. This time he shifted his whole body over hers, pinning her completely to the bed. He pressed one knee between hers, so that she could grind against his thigh. The hand at her breast slid down to her waist, then went back up under her shirt. He deftly tugged the bra cup down and then palmed her bare breast. Callie moaned against his lips, the intoxicating feel of his large hand covering her breast under her clothes was intense and erotic. She ground her jean-clad pelvis against his leg, her clit throbbing, almost stinging with the friction.

He seemed to sense her urgency and he moved his hand away from her breast to cup her mound, rubbing in just the right spot. She exploded inside like a bucket of firecrackers with sparks and burning heat. Panting, she went limp beneath him, legs trembling as little aftershocks of the sudden, unbelievable powerful climax rippled through her.

Wes moved his mouth down to her neck, teasing her skin with delicate nips and little licks. The hard press of his erection against her stomach was impossible to ignore.

“Do I…do I rub you?” she whispered nervously.

He lifted his head and she noticed his lips seemed fuller from their kisses. She’d marked him with her nibbling kisses. That subtle show of her effect on him pleased her and she couldn’t stop smiling.

“Not now. If you get anywhere near my cock, I’ll lose control.” His voice was ragged.

She shivered at the way he’d said the word “cock.” It made her want to purr and wriggle against him. A blush worked its way up her body as she wondered if dirty talk was something she liked. Was it?

“I love it when you blush.” He sighed like a man lost in a favorite dream.

“That’s good, because you make me blush all the time,” she retorted a little grumpily. She’d like to see him blush for a change.

He bent and nipped her bottom lip before teasing her. “There’s a little sass in you. I like it. Keep it up and I’ll spank you.” He winked and she nearly rolled her eyes. He was bluffing. He wouldn’t spank her. The threat was made too often for him to really mean it.

“What time is dinner?” she asked between languid kisses. It was wonderful to lie on a bed with a man, one who was all hers in that moment. Her body was sated and she was simply enjoying the pleasure and intimacy of his kisses.

“Hmm…an hour and a half.” He finished on a growl of delight as he rocked his hips against hers as though determined to excite himself like she had, but Callie sensed he was much better at mastering his body’s responses than she was hers.

“Should we get dressed?”

He nuzzled her throat before he puffed out a sigh and pushed his body up so he could look down at her. “Unfortunately you’re right. I don’t want to be late meeting with Dimitri.” He stole one more kiss from her before he got off the bed. Callie propped herself up on her elbows and watched him head for the bathroom. He paused, resting his palms on the frame of the door as he glanced over his shoulder at her.

“Wear the navy blue dress and the kitten heels that match. The yellow overcoat, too.”

And just like that he was gone. Callie flopped down onto her bed, body still loose after that intense encounter. Everything had changed. One day in Paris and she was already giving herself to Wes, or at the least had agreed to at some future time. So much for her belief that she’d win in the wager they’d made. She was crumbling like the walls of Jericho. It wasn’t like her, but then again, the girl she’d been before had been alone and unhappy. With Wes, she was someone new, someone sexy and exciting. She wanted to be this new woman, and while she was in Paris, she had the chance to and not worry about what anyone would think.

Her dreams were coming true and yet she was still nervous about tonight. She was going to meet one of Wes’s clients and then she’d get to visit the Louvre. After that…well…she smiled. She would just have to wait and see. She glanced out the window at the distant Eiffel Tower. This was Paris, a land of dreams, a city of love…a world where she could be someone else. Someone she was meant to be.

Chapter 7

Wes leaned against the front door of his apartment, waiting for Callie to come down the stairs. He heard the soft click of her heels and then she came into view. The dark blue dress was cut conservatively but was sexy in a classy way, enhancing Callie’s natural style. The bright yellow overcoat was a perfect counterpart to the dress, which flared out slightly at her knees to give her more mobility. The navy blue heels had gold buckles on the toes and had enough height to accept her shapely legs but were not too high that she’d be uncomfortable. He knew his little cowgirl well now. She’d rarely worn heels, if ever, and was a stranger to dresses and heels.

He waved a finger in a circle, indicating for her to twirl. Callie blushed but performed a graceful pirouette. She’d pulled her long blonde hair into a ponytail at the base of her neck with a thick navy blue ribbon. Wes fought off the wave of desire as his body jumped into overdrive. A few hours earlier he’d had her beneath him in a bed, kissing her, his hands exploring her full curves. He’d almost come right there when she had. The look of shock, of delight, as she climaxed had blown his mind apart with thoughts of what would come soon. She wanted to be with him, and so long as he could take it slow, he would have her in his bed. What he hadn’t expected, however, was the series of strange emotions running through him like quicksilver. He shoved these soft emotions, ones of tenderness and sweetness, aside. They would not help him and he didn’t need them as a weakness.

“How do I look?” she asked when she reached him at the door.

He caught her by the lapels of her coat and leaned down to nuzzle her cheek.

“More tasty than whatever I had planned to eat tonight,” he growled softly and Callie made a tiny little noise between a whimper and a throaty purr. The sound went straight to his cock.

“Dinner, remember?”

He licked the shell of her ear and nibbled the lobe. She gripped his shoulders as he continued the sensual torture by kissing the sensitive spot just behind her ear. “We can be late.” His hands dropped to her back, pulling her closer.

“Won’t your client get upset?” Her husky tone made him momentarily forget everything besides her. It was so easy to lose himself when he was with her, like being pulled into the gravity of a bright sun.

“Wes, dinner,” she reminded more sternly. That barely cut through the warm haze of desire cloaking him. Dimitri Razin wouldn’t want to be kept waiting.

He exhaled, a little irritated that he couldn’t keep kissing those delightful little spots on Callie’s skin that made her shiver.

“Very well. There’s just one thing missing before we go.” He curled his hand in her ponytail and tugged slightly, forcing her head back so he could plant a lingering last kiss on her lips. Could he last a few hours without tasting her?

“What?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the leather box Jim Taylor had given him. He held it out to her.

“Wes, I don’t want any more jewelry.”

He curled her hands around the box. “You’ll want this. Your father gave it to me to give to you before we left for Paris.”

She opened the box and stared at the little seashell bracelet and then unfolded the small note. When she raised her gaze, her eyes were glimmering with tears.

“He says it was my mother’s. She loved the sea, just like me.” She removed the bracelet and tucked the note back in the box. “Can you put it around my wrist?” she asked.

Tucking the box into his pocket, he then took the bracelet and fastened it around her wrist.

When he was done, she brushed a fingertip over the little shells. “I never had much of my mother’s things. She didn’t have jewelry, or any heirlooms. She and my father were both poor and they put everything they had into the ranch. I never knew my father had this.” She wiped away a stray tear. It destroyed Wes to see her cry.

“I think he was waiting for the right time to give you something this special.”

She leaned into him, kissing him once more, sweet and light, but no less potent than any kiss they’d shared in the past. His chest burned with an inner warmth at the light kiss.

“Thank you, Wes.”

He clasped her hand in his and they left the apartment. Michel was waiting to drive them to Fouquet’s. It was a fairly trendy restaurant in many aspects, but the food was excellent and the atmosphere was pleasant enough for a business meeting. Merry lights of the restaurant illuminated the red canopy roof that covered the outdoor seating areas as they arrived. Tourists already filled the outdoor tables, chatting and dining. Wes escorted Callie straight to the main doors on the corner of the building. When they walked inside, Callie’s eyes grew round and her lips parted in a little O. That didn’t help Wes. He’d just gotten control of his body again and she was making him hard thinking about her lips wrapped around his shaft.

“It’s so beautiful. I’ve never eaten at a fancy place like this before,” she admitted.

Wes studied the restaurant, trying to see what had impressed her. Rows of white cloth-covered tables were surrounded by armless tall red chairs studded with gold pins along their frames. Chandeliers with more than a dozen electric candles each filled the room with a soft, warm glow that reflected off the light walnut wood-paneled walls.

A secluded table in the back had a lone man drinking wine.

“Ahh, there’s Dimitri.” Wes guided Callie toward the man and the table in the back.

“Wes,” Dimitri said and chuckled as he stood and offered a hand in greeting. Wes shook it and nudged Callie forward. She’d been hanging behind, letting him shield her with his body. No doubt because Dimitri was intimidating. He was a tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed Russian, good-looking and far too confident when it came to women.

“Sorry, we’re late. Dimitri, I would like you to meet Callie Taylor. Callie, this is Dimitri Razin.”

Callie smiled and shook Dimitri’s hand but he pressed a lingering kiss to her knuckles and she instinctively moved toward Wes. He was glad for two reasons. She was learning to trust him, and she preferred him to Dimitri. Wes was no fool. Dimitri was a natural womanizer. More than one beautiful lady in Paris hadn’t been able to choose between Wes and Dimitri and they had taken her to bed together. But Wes had no intention of ever sharing Callie.

“You did not mention this was to be a mixture of business and pleasure, Wes.” Dimitri winked rakishly at Callie.

Wes steered her to the nearest chair and helped her sit. Then he took the seat slightly closer to his friend.

“The pleasure is mine. Only mine.” He shot Dimitri a warning look and the Russian nodded faintly, indicating he understood.

“I’ve had the best wine in the house brought down. The waiter will return to see to our order.” He held out menus to Callie and Wes.

Callie thanked him and focused intently on her menu as though it contained the secrets of the universe. She was very shy, but he would make sure she wasn’t shy with him when they were alone.

“So what is this piece you’ve had sent to the Louvre?” Wes asked.

Dimitri had connections with the President-Director of the Louvre and often had pieces stored there when he needed them to be authenticated.

His friend passed Wes a glass of wine and one to Callie. “It’s a Sargent, one I’ve not seen on the market before. You know how much I like his work.” He turned to Callie. “Do you know Sargent?”

She nodded, eyes brightening with interest.

“Callie’s an artist,” Wes informed his friend, feeling proud of Callie and her talent. It was one thing to show off a painting, but another thing to show off an artist, one who was living and breathing right next to him, one he’d kissed, one who tasted like sunshine and encouraged dreams he’d thought long lost to him. He wanted to shout his excitement from the rooftops, and then he wanted to closet himself away with her, taking her to bed for days.

Dimitri’s gaze narrowed in sudden interest. “You are an artist? No wonder you have my friend so fascinated with you. Wes Thorne lives and breathes art.”

Wes sipped his wine and raised the glass in a silent toast to his friend. “As do you, Dimitri.”

“Not like you, my friend.” Dimitri turned back to Callie, smiling and brushing his dark hair out of his eyes, as he seemed to realize he’d caught Callie’s undivided attention. “Wes understands art, while the rest of us simply appreciate it. The patterns, the techniques, all the things that define that art, including an artist’s heart and soul, that is what he sees that the rest of us do not.”

Wes wanted to laugh, but deep down, he sensed Dimitri understood people the way he understood art.

“I can see what you mean,” Callie said, shooting Wes one of those equally intelligent and curious looks.

Dimitri laughed in delight. “You are a perceptive lady. All good artists must be.”

“The best artists see something for what it could be, not just what it is.” Callie reached for her glass of wine and took a taste. Her hazel-green eyes settled on him and what he saw there heated his blood. The dewy-eyed innocence wasn’t there, but an ancient knowing glint, as though there were things she saw and understood better than an average woman her age. It was a fleeting glimpse of the worldly artist she would someday become, the person he wanted her to be.

“I think, my friend”—Dimitri signaled their waiter with a little wave—“that you have found a most unique woman.”

My masterpiece. Mine. He nodded at Callie. Well played, darling.

The waiter arrived and they placed their orders. Dimitri seemed fascinated by Callie and before long Callie was chatting with an ease and friendliness he hadn’t seen before. Dimitri, ever a collector of human information, soon pried out such kernels of information like the fact that cobalt blue was her favorite color, the best night of her life was watching a meteor shower with her parents when she was four, just before her mother passed away. Wes’s stomach had clenched at the thought of her so young, only four, and that a fuzzy memory tinted with the warmth of her mother’s love had left such a lasting impression on her. He was glad she had that memory of her mother. Not all children were so lucky.

He for one was the product of two wretched examples of human nature. Grandpa Thorne was the only family member other than Hayden who Wes officially acknowledged. His own parents were a pair of polecats scratching, biting, clawing, with no thought or care as to those around them. When he’d left for college, he only came home to the island because he loved it, not because his parents were there. Someone had to keep an eye on his friends and, most important, his sister. If he had to run into his parents a few times a year at public events, it was something he would endure.

Callie pushed back her chair and both men rose to their feet as she stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the ladies’ room.”

“What has you in such a black mood?” Dimitri asked when Callie was out of ear shot.

Wes shrugged. “Thoughts of the past, they turn me black.” He rarely admitted weakness, but Dimitri was someone he trusted.

“There’s no reason for that. You see the lovely lady who just left? She likes you. That has to erase all dark thoughts from a man when a woman like her wants you.”

“Believe me, she is a hard one to get into bed. She’s in love with my childhood friend. That’s not an easy thing to erase from her mind.”

Dimitri’s dark brows rose. “Let me guess. She loves the man marrying your sister?”

“How did you know that?” Wes gulped down a large portion of his wine.

“The lovely Hayden Thorne no longer single? That news raced across continents quicker than you can imagine. I heard it in Moscow twelve hours before the news was officially announced.”

“Amazing how news like that spreads.” He glanced around the restaurant and then leaned closer to Dimitri. “What do you know of the black market for Goya paintings?”

“Goya?” Dimitri mused. “His sketches are the most popular items, smaller, easier to steal. Why do you ask?”

Wes pulled his phone out and showed a picture of the Goya forgery to his friend. “This is an unbelievable forgery of a piece I helped acquire for some friends on the island. They were robbed by a professional. I’m hoping to find it on the market and see it returned to the rightful owners.”

The Russian laughed softly. “And you want me to get in touch with old contacts?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Let me have a night with your woman and I will do whatever you wish.” There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Anything but that.” Wes kept his tone light, but his words were steel.

“I expected as much. Very well. You will owe me and I’ll collect that favor when the time comes.”