The Hill

As he followed London across the lobby to the elevators, he glanced up at the cameras in the corners—visible and easy to dismantle or block.

London stabbed at the elevator call button and hissed, “Why were you interrogating Griff like that? He’s a good guy.”

“He’s a retired cop who found himself an easy gig where he can sit on his ass and read celebrity rags.”

“Shh.” She put a finger to her lips, her sculpted eyebrows colliding over her nose.

The elevator doors whispered open and he stepped into the mirrored car after London. “Just calling it like it is. I’m here to assess the risks to your security and I just found two of them. You don’t let random strangers into the building just because they buzz your place, do you?”

“No, sir.” She trailed a finger across her left breast. “Cross my heart.”

He dragged his gaze away from her cleavage and backed up against one mirrored wall. “Good, because that’s just stupid. What’s the point of having a coded key entry?”

“No point at all.”

“Are you making fun of me? Because this is serious. This is your security.”

Her smile twitched at one corner. “It’s just that you got all stern on me and poor Griff.”

God, he must’ve come across like his brothers. He folded his arms across his chest. “Just doing my job, ma’am.”

“And I appreciate that.”

The elevator dinged to a stop and the doors slid open onto a quiet hallway. The shiny marble from the lobby had been replaced by carpet so thick his boot would probably leave a crater in the pile.

“How many places up here?” He glanced down the hallway. Technically she had the penthouse, since her place occupied the top floor of the building, but it looked as if she shared the space with at least one other unit.

“Two.” She had her keys in her hand.

“Who’s your neighbor?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Is the other place for sale?”

“No.” She spun around at her door. “I own the other place. I bought it when the previous owner gave it up.”

He held up his hands at her defensive tone. “Hey, I’d do the same.”

She shoved her key into the dead bolt and froze. “Judd.”

“What?”

“I always lock my dead bolt, and it’s not locked.”

Adrenaline shot through his system and he reached for the weapon in his gun bag. “Step back, London. Let me go through first.”

She unlocked the door handle and he twisted it. He raised his gun, easing the door open.

He took in the scene before him. Either London Breck was one messy heiress or her place had been tossed.

She gasped behind him and let loose with a string of profanities.

Her place had been tossed.

Chapter Five

London pushed past Judd’s solid frame, but he grabbed her around the waist before she hit the foyer, nearly lifting her off her feet.

“Hold on. We have no idea if the perpetrator is still here or not.”

“Perpetrator?” Her blood simmered and she felt like putting her fist through the wall. “I’ve got a few other choice names for him.”

“Yeah, you just screamed them in my ear.” He tugged on his earlobe and tilted his head back. “How big is this place?”

“Big.”

Judd kept his gun in front of him, and she almost wished the SOB was still here so he could get a load of that.

“Okay, stay with me and we’ll do a sweep of the place, unless you want to leave now and call the cops.”

“I’m hoping we catch him in the act. I’m not waiting for the cops.”

“All right, Calamity Jane, just stay behind me in case he is.”

She stayed close to Judd as she directed him through the rooms of the condo, each one ransacked and upended. They even looked in the closets and under the beds, but the slimeball had done his dirty work and escaped.

He replaced his gun in what she assumed was an out-of-character fanny pack and hooked a thumb in one belt loop. “Now that we know he’s not here, do you want to see what’s missing? I’ll get on the phone and call the cops.”

Crooking her finger at him, she marched across the great room and through the double doors to the library. She placed both hands against a bookshelf and shoved. It turned into the wall, exposing a cavity with a squat metal safe in the center.

Judd whistled. “That’s some James Bond stuff right there.”

She aimed the pointed toe of her boot at the safe. “All my important papers and real jewelry are in there, except for the important papers and real jewelry in some safe-deposit boxes.”

“Check it just to make sure.”

She crouched in front of the safe and he turned away while she spun the dial on the combination lock. He did take his job seriously.

The safe opened with a heavy click and she pulled open the door. “You can peek now.”

He squatted on the floor beside her, his hands braced on his muscled thighs, his shoulder brushing hers. They were almost as close as they’d been on that motorcycle. Every time he’d gone downhill, which had seemed to happen a lot, the decline had thrown her against his back. She’d fought mightily against resting her head against his shoulder and exploring beneath his shirt with her hands.

That ride, with him between her legs and the monster machine buzzing beneath her, had been about the most sensuous journey she’d ever experienced.

Only to come to a screeching halt when they reached her ransacked apartment.

He cocked his head, and his long black hair tickled her cheek. “Well?”

She plunged her hands into the recesses of the safe and grabbed stacks of paper bonds, bringing them into the light. She tossed them back inside and her fingers curled around a velvet box, which she pulled out and dropped to the floor. She flicked the latch and the jewels inside glittered in the muted light.

“Did you get those from the queen of England or something?” He reached into the box and hooked a finger around a necklace of rubies with pink diamonds clustered around each one.

“My father bought that for my mother. I have no idea where he got it.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s not my style.”

He dropped it. “Not mine, either. I guess your taste runs more toward three-hundred-carat yellow diamonds.”

She sucked in a breath. So he did know all about her. Well, not everything. “Sheikh al Sayid gave that diamond to me. Of course he was going to deny it when his wife found out—one of his wives, I may add.”

“The question is, what did you do to earn it?”

“You have a dirty mind.” She punched him in the shoulder and then shook her fist. Was the man hard all over?

He wasn’t the only one with a dirty mind.

“Any other treasures in there?”

There were, but a few she’d keep to herself.

“There’s nothing missing from this safe.” She slammed the door shut and fell to her backside. “Whatever else he might’ve taken—cameras, computers, gadgets—he’s welcome to them.”

“Computers? If he has your computers, you could be in for a lot of trouble.”

“All company information and financials are stored on computers at the office. I don’t do any of that at home, not even on a laptop. I have a backup service, so I’m not going to lose any music or pictures.” She covered her mouth with her hand. There were pictures she didn’t want anyone to see—not even some junkie thief.

“What is it?”

Judd had moved closer, his knees bumping hers.

She looked into his eyes, the darkness of the room casting them the color of a deep ocean-blue. She probably should tell him everything, come clean about everything. No. Maddie had nothing to do with any of this, and she didn’t need Judd Brody thinking of her as any more flighty than he already did, or worse, as someone heartless and selfish.

“Getting all those files restored would be a major pain.”

Pushing to his feet, he extended his hand. “Then let’s go see what’s missing, and I’ll call the cops.” He circled his finger around the safe room. “I wouldn’t mention this, though—to anyone.”

“Nobody knows about it except me and you. My father had it put in when I bought this place.”

She grasped his hand and he pulled her up. The small room had them inches apart and she breathed in the scent of him—soapy with a hint of mint from his warm breath—and something else. Something she couldn’t identify, but that made her think of tousled sheets and bare skin and bruised lips.

Must be all the heightened tension of the break-in, but he could take her right here and she wouldn’t complain one bit. She’d make it a point to be the best he ever had—and from his looks and manner, he’d had more than his share.

He kicked the door of the safe closed with a bang and she jumped. “The rest of your stuff?”

His harsh tone brought her back to reality. He’d made it pretty clear he didn’t want to take her here or anywhere. Not that he didn’t enjoy the sparks between them—she could read a man as well as the next girl—but he had no intention of lighting that fuse.

She bent forward and it was his turn to jump back. She flattened out her smile as she twirled the dial of the safe. “Just locking up.”

Squeezing past her, he backed out of the room, his thigh brushing against her bum.

“Claustrophobic in there.” He let out a long breath and raked his fingers through his long hair.

He helped her swing the bookcase back into place, and she turned to survey the rest of the library. The monitor for the desktop computer was askew, and she looked beneath the desk for the CPU.

“One computer gone.”

“I suppose he had to take something to make it look good.”

“What are you saying?” She placed her hand on his forearm, her nails digging into the ink of his tattoos.

“London, this is obviously linked to the previous threats. Someone is trying to spook you or warn you. This is not some garden-variety break-in. I thought you’d figured that out the minute we walked into the condo.”

“I guess I did.” She twisted a strand of hair around one finger. She hadn’t really thought about who was responsible and why. That white-hot anger thumping through her veins had blotted out everything else, but it made sense.

“So you don’t think whoever broke in is really interested in what’s on my computer?”

“I can’t know for sure, but this seems like another scare tactic—he can get to you.”

“Where’s the demand? If he wants me to do or not do something, how am I supposed to know what that is?”

“Maybe he figures you’ll get so stressed out, you’ll drop the whole idea of running BGE.”

It must be someone who knew her well, then, because that was exactly what she would’ve done in the past. When the going got tough, London Breck threw up her hands and took a vacation. The old London Breck.

“I don’t know, Judd.” She left the library and checked the kitchen table, where she usually kept her laptop. “My laptop’s gone, too.”

A little fizz of fear made its way up her spine. Whoever had that laptop could make some interesting deductions from the pictures she kept on there.

She poked around and discovered other items missing—small electronics, some costume jewelry, three designer handbags—little stuff. Personal effects that would indicate a quickie burglary by someone who needed cash.

Slumping on the couch, she tilted her head back against the cushion and closed her eyes. “Are the cops on their way?”

“Eventually. I’m going to have a talk with Griff before they get here.”

“Great. He’ll probably never speak to me again.”

“He should lose his job. It happened on his so-called watch.”

“Please.” She opened one eye. “Do not get him fired.”

“Afraid of being labeled Ms. Scrooge? I’m sure the other tenants in this building are going to want to know about this.” He sat on the arm of the couch. “I wouldn’t worry too much about old Griff. He’s collecting a nice pension. He’s not going to starve in the streets.”

“I’m not going to be responsible for anyone losing a job.”

“Oh, boy.” He flicked her earlobe. “How are you going to run a multibillion-dollar global company?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet. Any ideas?”

“Me? I don’t even have a filing system down for my business.”

She trudged after Judd through the lobby, keeping her focus on his nice backside to avoid thinking about the conversation ahead and everything else going wrong in her life right now. If he didn’t want her jumping his bones, why did he wear jeans like that? Why did his blue eyes smolder when he looked at her? Why did his long hair brush his collar, asking to be smoothed away?

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