Loving the Lone Wolf. Ingrid Weaver
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From what I heard on that stage tonight, singing is what you are.”
Damn, his insight was right on target. It appeared that she had underestimated him. She had to wrap this up before he sliced any deeper. “Then on behalf of Stephan, I have a proposal to present.”
“I’m listening.”
“Since we haven’t worked together before, we must overcome trust issues on both sides. The best way to do that is to increase the stakes.”
“How?”
“Rather than accepting a flat fee up front for your services, I’m proposing that you take a percentage of the profits once the merchandise is sold.”
He raised his eyebrows. “A percentage? Why?”
“Insurance. Stephan doesn’t want a one-off—he wants an ongoing relationship. If you fail to move the goods as you promise, then you won’t make anything, but if you succeed, your profit will be tied to ours.”
“Uh-huh. And if you don’t make a profit—”
“Oh, we’ll make a profit, Nathan.” She slid her hand along her breast and under the neckline of her dress until the tips of her fingers slipped into her bra. “Let me show you a sample of what I’m offering.”
His arm shot out across the table. His touch wasn’t gentle this time as he clamped his fingers around her wrist to hold her hand in place. The flame that was reflected in his eyes flared dangerously. “Kelly…”
The warning in his voice was plain—she had pushed the game as far as he would allow—but she wasn’t playing now. She twisted her hand so that he could see the small, condom-size packet that she had taken from her bra.
He exhaled hard enough to make the candle waver. Muttering an oath, he released her wrist.
Kelly turned the packet between her fingers. The clear plastic didn’t hold a prophylactic. It held a tablespoon of fine white powder.
It was pure, uncut heroin, gram for gram, one of the most valuable commodities on the planet. It was the primary source of Stephan’s wealth, and being this close to it was making Kelly want to throw up, but she did some more deep breathing until the urge passed.
Almost there, she told herself. She had put out the bait. Now it was only a question of how fast he would take it.
Nathan plucked the heroin from her grasp and closed it in his fist so tightly his knuckles paled.
Good, she thought. Until now, his expression had been unreadable, but his body language betrayed him. This deal appeared to be almost as important to him as it was to her. “It’s yours to keep,” Kelly said. “I believe you’ll want to test it.”
“I intend to.”
“There are two more tons where this came from, Nathan. Your share would make you a rich man.”
The mention of the amount of heroin didn’t appear to move him. Nor did the prospect of riches. He slipped the dope into a pocket on the front of his jacket and zipped it closed. “What kind of percentage did Volski have in mind?”
“That’s what I’m here to negotiate.”
He regarded her steadily. “Name a number.”
“First I need to see what you have to offer.” Kelly pinched the shoulders of her dress and hitched it back into place. “Now that I’ve shown you mine,” she murmured, “it’s your turn to show me yours.”
Chapter 2
Nathan had thought the ride would do him good. That’s why whenever he could he preferred to use his bike instead of his customized Jaguar. There was nothing like the molar-jarring vibration from a Harley’s split carburetor and the slam of night air at seventy miles an hour to help clear a man’s head. Traffic on the expressway was light at this hour so he’d been able to open up the throttle the instant he’d cleared the ramp.
But it wasn’t working. How could he clear his head when every square inch of his body was humming with awareness?
Kelly was nestled behind him, her hands clasped around his waist and her thighs cradling his hips. Even through his jacket he could feel the pressure of her breasts as she squeezed against his back to shelter from the wind.
At least she’d changed out of that damn dress. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have had a hope of getting this far. Had she realized what she’d been doing to him?
Yes. Absolutely. She’d known full well how to use her sexuality to her advantage. She thought she could manipulate him by leading him around by his libido. It was all part of her strategy.
It bothered the hell out of him to realize how effective it had been.
He clenched his jaw and twisted his wrist, accelerating to pass a slow-moving truck. Kelly leaned with him as he changed lanes, her body locked to his. He had assumed she would choose to postpone this part of their business until later, but she seemed as anxious to put the deal into motion as he was. She hadn’t balked when she had seen the motorcycle. Instead, she had told him to wait, then had reappeared outside the Starlight fifteen minutes later dressed in flat-heeled shoes, tailored pants and a modest sweater, a helmet she had borrowed from one of the club’s bouncers in her hand.
Her sensible outfit hadn’t done much to disguise her figure, especially since the way she was plastered to him now let Nathan feel even more than the dress had allowed him to see.
But that was probably all part of her game, too. Her determination was as formidable an asset as her body. Volski had chosen his emissary—and his trophy—well.
Right. Volski.
Nathan checked his speed and eased back on the throttle to bring it under the limit. Getting stopped by the cops at this stage was the last thing he needed. He had a bag of pure heroin in the pocket of his jacket and he had the girlfriend of a notorious Russian drug kingpin on the back of his bike. On top of that, he was using a name he hadn’t gone by for a decade.
What Kelly had learned about his past had been accurate. Ten years ago, Nathan Rand had run the most successful chop shop in Detroit. His network of car thieves had stretched from Michigan across the border to Ontario, targeting only high-end vehicles. His staff had been skilled and highly motivated, all pros like him. He’d been investigated by police forces in both countries and he’d been arrested three times, but he’d always beaten the charges. As he’d told Kelly, he was good at what he did.
But what Kelly didn’t know—and what Volski could never find out—was the real reason Nathan Rand had dropped out of sight. He had relocated from Detroit to Chicago and had become Nathan Beliveau, the president and CEO of what was now the third-largest courier company in the nation.
Nathan’s current network stretched not only around the Great Lakes but throughout North America. Every vehicle his company owned had been acquired honestly. Instead of working under the threat of prison time, his skilled, highly motivated staff could look forward to medical benefits and a generous pension plan. He had transformed himself from an international car thief to an upstanding, taxpaying citizen.
So what he’d told Kelly had been accurate, too. He was indeed in the transportation business. He was proud of the new life he’d built, but it hadn’t come cheap. Unless he paid his debt to Tony Monaco, he could lose it all.
The reminder focused his thoughts better than the ride could. He took the exit for O’HareAirport, switched off his headlight and headed for the back route he liked to use. Seven minutes later, they arrived at the sprawling complex of warehouses and hangars that bore the gray-and-white baying-wolf logo of Pack Leader Express.
It’s your turn to show me yours.
Showing Kelly what he had to offer was exactly what he intended to do. That was why he was about to go through the charade of breaking into the head office of his own company.
Nathan coasted to a stop