U.S. Male (15 page)

“Will he come after us?” she asked, dreading the answer.

Bax drew his arm back and moved it forward in an arc, sending the baited hook sailing far out over the water. “He’ll have to find us first.”

“I don’t think it’ll be that much of a challenge for Markus to find us, do you?”

Bax finished adjusting the reel and turned to look at her. “So what are you saying?”

“Maybe we’re better off finding a way to a standoff.”

“We already have. The standoff we’ll have is that we’ll have the stamp mounts with Silverhielm’s fingerprints on them, proof that he had them. Rolf, for one, would love an opportunity to send in a team with a search warrant. I think we can keep Silverhielm quite busy enough if we get the one-penny Mauritius back.”

“If?”

He kissed her. “When.”

“S
O
,
HOW WAS YOUR
visit to the Royal Viking?” Silverhielm leaned back in his expensive leather executive chair, staring out the windows of his Slussen office at the pastel buildings of Gamla Stan.

“Interesting,” Markus said easily.

Silverhielm turned to face him. “Did you find the Blue Mauritius?”

“Of course not. The Blue Mauritius is most likely in a bank vault somewhere in Stockholm. Johan is well aware of the vulnerabilities of hotels and hotel safes.”

“Did you find anything?”

“Indeed. Johan’s current identity, for one.”

“That is of little interest to me.”

“He changes them at will,” Markus agreed. “I did find out something far more useful, however. The identity of his lovely companion.”

Silverhielm picked up a pencil and began tapping it against his desk blotter. “She is not Josie Astin?”

“No. The beautiful Ms. Astin has been lying to us. She is not the girlfriend of Stewart Oakes’s thief. She is actually Joss Chastain, Hugh Chastain’s granddaughter.

Silverhielm said nothing, but the pencil he held
snapped in two. “She is not here to sell the Blue Mauritius.”

“Unlikely, but not impossible,” Markus agreed. “Joss Chastain has no money, no permanent home, few records.” He shrugged. “She may be here for profit. It is also possible that she is here to recover the one-penny Mauritius.”

“Preposterous.”

“It would explain why she has engaged the services of a man like Johan, however.”

Silverhielm nodded. “We could have a family rebel, selling for her own profit. Why would she not tell us?”

“Afraid of suspicion, perhaps? It is more likely that she wishes to take the stamp back, as her sister did.”

“Sentimental fools.”

“Indeed.”

Silverhielm put his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepled his fingers in front of him. “I do not care for being lied to. I will not be made a fool of. Or cheated.” Anger vibrated in his voice as he glowered into space, his face ruddy. Minutes passed.

“Do you wish to cancel the meeting?” Markus asked.

Silverhielm exhaled and shifted his shoulders. He smiled slowly. “Not at all. It promises to be even more amusing than I’d anticipated. I will get the stamp, we will have some sport.” His eyes turned cold and implacable. “And the very attractive Ms. Chastain will not leave Silverholmen alive.”

T
HE SUN BEAT DOWN
on them from its zenith. Joss sat on one of the bench seats along the side of the boat and trailed her fingers in the water. More than two hours had passed since they’d dropped anchor. Bax had merely kept his binoculars trained on the house. Despite her awareness of the importance of the surveillance, it was getting old. She was bored, tired, hot, restless and wholly impatient for something to happen.

“So you’ve monitored the guards and you’ve seen the layout. What are you looking for now?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. When I’m not sure, I watch and I wait. We know that they have a daytime patrolling schedule. I don’t see Silverhielm’s cigarette boat.”

“The racing boat, you mean? Do you think he’s in town?”

“Maybe. In that case, he’ll either stay in his townhouse or come back out here. It might be nice to hang around and see what he does.”

“That wouldn’t be until five or so, right?” Joss checked her watch. “That’s about four hours from now.”

“About.”

“And we’ve been here for two hours already.”

“You were the one who wanted to come on the stakeout.” He gave her a glance of amusement mixed with sympathy. “Welcome to the exciting life of a detective.”

He was right, Joss admitted, but it didn’t do anything to ease the oppressive heat. She was sticky and uncomfortable in her jeans, and the light breeze that had eased things that morning seemed to have died away. There wasn’t even a shade over the cockpit of the boat. “So we’re basically going to just sit here and wait.”

“Yep.”

Joss moved over to the captain’s chair next to Bax and sighed, wishing she hadn’t worn a black tank top. On the horizon, another ferry chugged its way north, bound, perhaps, for Finland.

She was so hot.

“Are there sharks out here?” Joss asked.

“You mean besides the ones on the island?”

“Besides them. Could I take a swim?”

“No. I don’t want you in the water if we need to leave suddenly.”

She fanned herself with one hand. “This is killing me.”

“You look like you’re dying. Here.” Bax handed her another bottle of water. “We can stop when we get closer to Stockholm and you can swim all you like. Once we’re done here.”

“All right.” She wouldn’t act like a surly child, she told herself. If he could tolerate it, she could, too. “So how do you keep from getting bored on a stakeout?”

Bax shrugged and brought the binoculars back up to his eyes. “Oh, try to reconstruct
Goodfellas
in my head scene by scene. List the players on my all-time World Cup team.” One corner of his mouth twitched. “Try to figure out the best sex I’ve ever had.”

Joss snapped her head around to stare at him. “The best sex you’ve ever had?” she repeated dangerously.

His grin widened. “Uh-huh.”

“If you’re smart, your next comment will be that this
time that topic hasn’t been particularly useful because you haven’t had to think very much about it.”

“Oh, this time around I’ve had an indisputable winner.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really.” He leaned over and kissed her on the nose. “Of course, when we get back to the hotel, I might need to verify it.” He raised his binoculars again and began watching the island.

The minutes ticked by and Joss picked at her sweat-dampened shirt. The heat of the sun baked her legs through the denim of her jeans. If only she’d worn shorts, she thought with a sigh. If only she’d thought to
pack
shorts. Sweden was north, for crying out loud. It wasn’t supposed to hit the nineties all the way up here. It was like having a heat wave in Alaska.

On Silverholmen, the grass baked gently in the heat.

She had to do something.

Impatiently, Joss stood and unsnapped her jeans. Bax swung around to look at her. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t let me distract you. I just want to cool down.”

“I see.”

“I forgot my bikini.” She lowered the zipper and slid the denim off her hips. “I figured I’d improvise.”

“You’re stripping in broad daylight?”

“Who’s going to see? The people on that ferry?” She pointed to the horizon. “I think they’ll survive.” She kicked off the jeans and stripped off her tank top, sighing in bliss as the faint breeze hit her sweat-damp skin.

“You’d better hope the Swedish coast guard doesn’t show up and bust you for public exposure.”

“I’ll see them long before they get here.” She reached back to unfasten the black lace of her bra and shrugged her shoulders to slip it off. “I’m just so hot. I thought if I took off a little clothing I’d be more comfortable.” She slid
her hands down to her hips, to the straps of her lacy thong, and paused. “You don’t mind, do you?”

When he only stared, she hooked her fingers in the sides and began dragging the scrap of lace slowly down her hips, leaning over to pull it over her thighs, her knees and down to her ankles. “Oh, that’s much better.” She straightened to toss the thong on top of the pile of clothing she’d discarded. Sitting back in her captain’s chair, she propped her feet up on the dashboard and poured water over herself.

Bax set his binoculars down slowly.

“Of course, there’s always a risk of sunburn.” Joss reached out for the bottle of sunscreen they’d brought.

His eyes followed her hand as she squeezed a line of sunscreen along first one leg, then the other. With a wicked smile, Joss slid her palm over the sleek lines of her thighs, stretching her legs up like a dancer. “I don’t know why you don’t at least take your shirt off.” She nodded at the dark blue polo jersey he wore. “You must be baking.”

Pouring out more sunscreen, she stroked her hand up and over the flat of her belly, spreading the cream over her waist, along the swell of her hips.

Utterly still, Bax just watched her.

Enjoying herself now, Joss slid her hands up higher, over the soft swells of her breasts. They filled her cupped hands, firm against her palm. To please herself, she caressed the skin, squeezing the nipples. “Aren’t you hot?” she murmured.

In almost one motion Bax tossed down the binoculars and reached for her, pulling her against him and capturing her mouth with his. She chuckled deep in her throat in giddy delight. Once again, she’d made him lose the control he prized. Once again, she’d tempted him to give in to desire.

He dragged her to her feet with one arm, letting the other hand rove as he pleased, from her breasts to her ass to the slippery cleft between her legs. Arousal, pleasure flooded through her.

“You drive me nuts,” he growled.

“That’s why I do it,” she whispered, her words filled with desire.

Bax stripped off his shirt, then leaned back against his captain’s chair and reached for his belt.

“I can do that,” Joss murmured, and brushed his hands aside. She unthreaded the strap from his buckle and found the button of his jeans beneath. “If you’re not worried about the coast guard, that is.” She pulled the zipper down and drew him out, already hard and pulsing. “After all, I don’t know what they might think if they came across this.” She brushed his silky soft cock over her cheek, licking the length of him like some erotic ice cream cone. “I could tell them that you’re injured and I’m doing triage before applying first aid.”

She swirled her tongue around his glans until she heard his rapid intake of breath. The first slick, faintly salty drop of precome emerged, and she spread it down the hard length of him with her fingertip. “Or I could tell them you’ve got a cramp and I’m applying warm compresses.” She slid his cock swiftly into her mouth and he groaned.

It was incredibly arousing, seeing him, tasting him, feeling him, hearing him groan as she pleasured him and pleasured herself. There was no telling what would happen once they’d gotten the stamp back and the case was over. Bax might be true to his word and move on. She might never hear from him again. But she had him now. Now, of all moments, he was hers, hers to play, hers to pleasure. And if this had to be the end of it, this memory of sun and salt air and the gently rocking boat and the purity of pleasure would stay with her always.

She put a hand to her breast and caressed herself even as she felt him harden against her lips, knowing he was watching, knowing it would turn him on. When he dragged her to her feet, she went willingly, but she didn’t move to the cushions of the bench seat that he urged her toward.

Instead, she pressed him into the captain’s chair. As a breeze whisked over her, she straddled him and looked down at his hard cock, shuddering in the diamond formed by the overlap of her thighs and his. “Of course, if the coast guard does show up, maybe we’re better off if we hide the evidence.” And she rose to slide him inside herself, catching her breath at the feel of it.

Bax bent his head to her breasts, brushing his chin against first one nipple, then the other. The light scrape of his afternoon shadow against the hard nubbins of flesh made her murmur in pleasure. He reached a hand down between her thighs, rubbing his thumb against her clit until she cried out at the touch.

Joss clutched his shoulders and leaned into him, rising and falling, feeling him get harder and thicker, going deeper, so deep that it forced a cry from her at the intensity of each plunge.

And then his hands were on her hips, moving her up and down, setting the rhythm, setting the pace. The sound of the water, the rock of the boat, the slick rub of the base of his cock against her clit took her up, and up, the tension coiling up in the center of her. And then she broke, shuddering, leaning back from the waist to push herself hard against him for one final stroke that combined with her final contractions to bring him to a swift, hard orgasm in the sun.

“S
O IS THIS
what they taught you at Interpol, to have sex on a stakeout?” she asked him lazily, trailing her fingers over his chest.

They lay on the deck of the boat, cushions underneath them.

“Absolutely. It was part of the orientation class.”

Joss made a husky sound of delight. “You must have had some instructors.”

“They couldn’t hold a candle to you.” He stroked a hand down her back. “Actually, you may very well have ruined me for the future. I’m going to compare every single stakeout I’m on to this, and believe me, cold coffee and stale sandwiches in a car at night don’t come anywhere close.”

“So I win the award for best stakeout companion?”

“You win the award for best everything.” He gave her a long, lingering kiss that carried much more than even he realized.

Joss stretched her arm above her to look at her watch. “Three o’clock. I suppose we should get dressed before Silverhielm comes home. If he comes home. Him and his goons.”

“And Markus.”

“Anyone who blows away someone’s knees counts as a goon to me.”

Bax frowned. “It’s hard to say what he is, but he’s not a goon.”

“What is it with you two?” Mystified, Joss tapped her fingers on his chest. “I know you said before that you didn’t like him, but you do. I can hear it in your voice.”

“I don’t even know that it’s liking. It’s more that I understand him.”

“I don’t see how. He’s a bad guy, Bax. You were the one who told me that.”

“There’s a reason I understand Markus. There was a time when I wasn’t a very good guy, either.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe it.”

There was something hollow about his voice. Joss turned on her side to face him and propped herself up on one elbow. “When?”

“Right after my mother died, my dad and I were at each other’s throats. I was sixteen and thought I knew it all. He wanted to run me like I was one of his buck privates.”

“And you didn’t like that at all.”

“Now there’s a surprise.” He gave a wry smile. “He got put on the night shift, which was perfect for me. I got to running with a rough crowd, got in some trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Little scrapes. I ignored the rules when they stood in my way.”

“Like what?” She’d never been much for rules herself.

He moved his shoulders. “We ran wild, did some joyriding, got our hands on some beer a few times. The more I did it, the more it made my father crazy and I liked that. The more I did it, the more I wanted to do.”

“That doesn’t sound like a kid headed to the FBI. What happened?”

“One night I took one too many chances and got caught with some kids who were breaking into a store. I was outside, across the street, but I got picked up too. They didn’t charge me. I wound up sitting across from a youth counselor named Tom McDowell.” He remembered the cramped office with its battered metal desk. Tom hadn’t looked kindly and caring. Tom had looked like a hardass. Bax had given tough right back to him, but he’d been scared down deep, scared that he’d gone maybe too far. And Tom had seen.

He’d kicked away the cockiness that Bax had held around him like a shield, kicked away his pride in being a rebel. And as the weeks went on, he’d showed Bax that there were other things to have pride in, things that really mattered.

“The next step was getting arrested and winding up with a parole officer. But Tom didn’t let me slide that far. He turned me around.”

She traced her fingertip over the frown line in his forehead, erasing it. “He saw something of value in you.”

“He was young and idealistic. I was lucky enough to be his project.”

“His success story, it sounds like.” She kissed him.

“I like to think so.” When he’d confessed to Tom that he liked the idea of investigating, Tom hadn’t laughed, he’d helped him look up the different ways to do it for a living. The day Bax graduated from the FBI academy, Tom had been there. They’d stayed in touch ever since. “He was the one who pointed me to the FBI after I’d gotten my head on straight. Luckily, I hadn’t gotten in trouble bad enough to close any doors.”

“And the FBI led to Interpol?”

“Eventually. The States never really felt like home to me. I always thought they would, but somehow…”

“I know what you mean.”

“You do, don’t you?”

“We’re a lot alike, Bax.”

In more ways than he’d expected. He nodded. “You get it. I thought Europe might be better for me, but I didn’t quite fit in there, either. So I wound up back in San Francisco.”