Chapter 10
Friday morning
“Crap,”Griff muttered, his feet hitting the carpeted floor. Why the hell hadn’t his phone alarm sounded at its usual time of five-thirty? It was now, according to his old-fashioned watch, almost seven-thirty.
Of course, he’d been up well past midnight, working on his “business” website in case anyone at Sapphires–or anyone else-tried to verify his claim of being an entrepreneur in the “adult entertainment” industry. He’d allowed others to use it before for undercover work, but he’d developed it. It was after two o’clock when he hit the sheets.
He grabbed his clean clothing from the chair in the corner and entered the bathroom he shared with Patrick. After a shower and shave-he loved the fog free mirror in the shower box-he toweled off and dressed. Cracking open the door to Patrick’s room, he called, “Shower is yours if you’re up.”
When there was no answer, he opened the door wider and peered inside. The double bed was so neatly made it looked as if no one had slept there, but that was typical of Patrick.
But there was no aroma of the dark coffee his friend preferred wafting from the kitchen, and concern tightened Griff’s stomach. It was well known among his buddies, not to speak to Patrick in the morning until he’d had his first cup of coffee. He never did anything before that and the Blue Mountain blend he preferred always perfumed any place where he made it. But there was no aroma at all.
Stepping into the hall, he stopped by the open door to Elaine’s room and found it was also neat and empty. His concern turned to a mild worry.
Don’t be an ass, Tyler. They’ve probably gone to the tech-room downstairs and there’s a coffee machine there. You need your own damn cup of coffee. They probably knew you were up late. Get your ass in gear.
In the kitchen, he put last night’s leftovers in the oven, made the coffee, and set the table. Elaine’s laptop was still there, and he hesitated about moving it. He poured a cup, while fighting the urge to call Patrick and ask him where the hell…
“read both Mandy Patinkin and Carey Elwes learned to fence so they could do that scene in The Princess Bride.” Elaine’s voice floated from the living room.
“And true or not, it was a great scene.” Patrick’s voice moved closer to the kitchen and then he and Elaine, in full fencing gear stepped in, holding their masks and sheathed foils. “Good morning,” they chorused.
“Exercise before breakfast?” Griff said casually, trying not to stare at Elaine Prescott like some open-mouthed, hormone driven teenager. Her fencing togs fit her like a couture gown, showing every curve and muscle. With her exercise bright eyes and shining skin, she couldn’t have been any more desirable than if she’d stripped naked. She was dangerously sexy, and Griff silently chanted the old Scottish battle song Mac taught him to drive away any desires except to be victorious in battle.
Because the desire for Elaine Prescott was thrumming in his veins like a battle drum.
“Better to work out on an empty stomach,” Elaine said cheerfully. “Eating before slows me down. So, what’s on today’s agenda?”
“I thought we’d visit Sapphire’s,” Griff said. “We need to find out more about the girls Elizabeth Burke told us might be the same ones Big Daddy and The Cadre are bringing in for the convention or if it’s another group.”
Elaine’s eyes widened as she came to lay her mask and foil on a chair. “Wow,” she said. “I’d forgotten that Thanksgiving is next weekend.”
“And so it is,” Patrick agreed, pouring coffee into an oversized mug stamped with a large P. “I’m off to the shower.”
He loped away and Griff cocked his head. “This is one for the books,” he said. “No one will ever believe Patrick Danton spoke to anyone, much less worked out without his first cup of morning coffee.”
She grinned, and Griff’s heart did a series of handsprings. Damn. He really did feel like a teenager. This was not good. Not good at all.
“Actually, he made a small cup from that one-cup machine in the gym,” she explained, coming forward to pour her own cup. “Saying having none would put him off this game.” Her eye-pleasing walk was smooth and graceful, and Griff wondered why she wasn’t married.
“Did he?” he managed to ask casually.
“Yeah,” she said. “We did a zoom session with my fencing coach, and he really put us through our paces. Does Patrick always drink coffee in the shower?”
“I have no idea,” Griff admitted. “Let’s go to the office. I need to show you the website I sent to Silas Clark, the manager at Sapphire’s so when we go there later today, he’ll have had time to check us out.”
In the office, they put their phones on the desk and sat side by side and Griff fired up the computer. The bright-red intertwined letters A and E filled the screen and beneath ran the caption, Abernathy Enterprises-For All Your Adult Entertainment Needs. The next screen held photos of Griff and three older men, all looking amazingly like Griff.
“Who are those guys?” she asked. “Are they your family?”
“It’s me,” Griff told her. “Those are computer generated images of what I’d look like if I were twenty or so years older, but they’re supposed to be my father and uncles. I’ve created a company history for that family that Clark won’t be able to disprove. Anyone of the links he goes to will verify Abernathy Enterprises authenticity.”
“It reminds me of that movie, The Sting,” Elaine suggested. “Everyone pretending to be someone else to catch Robert Shaw.”
“I love a woman who knows her movies,” Griff praised.
His phone buzzed and Griff looked at the screen. “It’s a BP member downstairs with our stuff. You stay here while I go get it.”
She propped her elbow on the desk and put her chin in her hand to regard him. “Stuff?” she repeated.
“Oh, yeah, Ms. Prescott. Really, really, nice stuff. We need to convince the bad guys we are who we say we are. But you’ll need to shower before you try on ‘the stuff’”.
Curiosity glittered in her eyes. “I was going to shower anyway, but what on earth have you done?”
Grateful her question gave him an excuse to touch her, Griff stood and pulled her to her feet. “Prepare to be amazed, Ms. Prescott. Prepare to be amazed.”
A short time later
“Do we look like couple of people who’d hire underage hookers and strippers?” Elaine stared at their reflections in the oversize cheval mirror in one of the empty bedrooms. “Shouldn’t we look more flamboyant?”
“We want the owners of Sapphire’s to take us seriously,” Griff said, stroking his extremely believable fake moustache. “The adult entertainment industry-especially Abernathy Enterprises as its history at the website will verify–is a billion–dollar business, so we want to look like very wealthy professional and not like sleazebags.”
“But aren’t people who like that kind of thing sleazebags?” Elaine asked, adjusting her black wig. Between it and the sparkly dress she wore, she looked a bit like Marisa Tomei from the courtroom scene in My Cousin Vinny, except the dress hit the knee. Griff had also supplied a black silky tunic. Her stiletto heels finished the look. And like her, Griff hid his hair under a short, black wig.
“High-paying sleazebags,” Griff replied. “In these threads, they’re going to know we have the money to get anything we want.”
Elaine eyed his black three-piece-Armani? Gucci? Tom Ford? suit and back at her own dress. “Where did you get all this
‘stuff’?”
“The suit is mine, but I have contacts all over the city,” he told her. “I thought the dress would suit you. Having one sister who designs for a major fashion house and another who does the same for a couple of movie studios comes in handy when it comes to picking out women’s clothing. And with your hair, you need a wig. Yours would make you too memorable.”
“I don’t think I’ve thanked you.” The words spilled out before Elaine could stop them.
He turned so that they were facing each other, his gaze questioning. “For what?”
“For helping me,” she said simply. “And for saving my life yesterday.”
“Hey, that’s why I’m here.” He flashed a cocky smile. “You hired me, remember?”
“Yeah,” she whispered, putting her hands on his shoulders. In her heels, she was almost as tall as he was. Standing so close, she could breathe in his clean, fresh, scent. Understated, simple yet very, very powerful. “Guess I got lucky, huh?” She kissed his cheek and added, “Really, really lucky.”
He sighed and pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her waist. Beneath his jacket, his heart hammered against hers as his mouth began a slow, sensuous exploration of her lips, sending her own heart into a frenzied gallop. A low moan escaped her throat, and she leaned in to kiss him more deeply.
His answering moan filled her head like a song, and he moved his mouth to feather against her eyelids before brushing it against her throat and then returning it to her mouth. The faint taste of coffee lingered on his lips, conjuring images of lazy mornings in bed, snuggling with this man between the sheets with nothing else to do but. . .
“Ah-hem.” Patrick’s loud clearing of his throat broke the moment, but Griff’s hands remained on Elaine’s waist, keeping her in place. Good thing too, because if he let go, she might swoon like a Regency heroine.
“It’s almost noon,” Patrick said, impeccably dressed in a chauffeur’s black uniform and visored cap. His glossy boots added a couple of inches to his already impressive height. His expression was completely neutral but there was no mistaking the twinkle in his eyes. “We ought to be heading towards Sapphire’s.”
“Go warm up the car,” Griff ordered. “We’ll be right there.”
“Yes sir.” Patrick gave a smart salute and added, “Looking good, you two. Classy, but not trashy.”
He strolled away, whistling Every Breath You Take and reluctantly, Elaine stepped back. “Sorry,” she murmured.
“I wish I could say, ‘me too’ but I can’t.” Griff said softly. “But now’s not the time to talk about it. But hold up a minute.”
Going to the desk, he picked up a small box, opened it and returned to drape a small golden locket over Elaine’s head. His fingers grazed her neck and heat flamed over her skin. Hands not quite steady, she held up the locket and asked, “What’s this?”
“There’s a miniature recording device inside,” Griff explained. “A tracking one too in case we get separated.”
“I have no intention of letting that happen,” Elaine said. “I’m sticking to you like super glue, peanut butter, maple syrup, joined at the hip, as it were.”
“I think I would like that last one.” He kissed her again, slowly, deliberately, its warmth tickling her skin and pushing her pulse forward. He drew back to take her hand and his smile could have melted the hardest of hearts. Hers was already softening up.
“Well then, Ms. Prescott,” he drawled, stepping back, but taking her hand. “Let’s go hire some strippers.”