Athens Affair, page 10
Jasmine nodded and spoke to Ace in English. “You can stay outside. I can take care of myself.”
Ace nodded and took up a position in front of the door as Christos pulled it closed.
Alone with the young man, Jasmine cocked an eyebrow. “Shall we take care of business first?”
Christos nodded. “Of course. Let me get you a drink. You can relax and enjoy the view while I get your money.”
“Perfect,” she said and turned away. “I do have a plane to catch early tomorrow morning. I have a meeting with my board of directors in Rome. They don’t like it if I’m late.”
“I can have my driver deliver you to the airport in plenty of time to catch your plane,” Christos said. “That would give us all night to get to know you better.”
“Mr. Demopoulos, do you presume to seduce me?”
His lips curled upward. “The thought did cross my mind.”
“Get me that drink, bring me my money and I’ll think about it.”
“I’ll get you that drink.” He hurried across the floor to the bar against the wall.
Jasmine looked around the sitting room. He’d decorated it tastefully with white leather furniture and glass-topped tables. The best part of the room was the view through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Athens below.
“What would you like to drink?” Christos asked.
“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” she said.
“Do you drink scotch?”
She nodded. “I do.”
He lifted a bottle and pulled off the top. “I bought this from one of my favorite distilleries the last time I was in Scotland.” He poured amber liquid into two tumblers and dropped a couple of ice cubes into each. He swirled the liquid around inside the glass as he carried it across the room to Jasmine.
She took one of the glasses and softly tapped it against the rim of his. “To the highlands of Scotland.”
Christos shook his head. “To getting to know each other.” He tapped her glass again and then tipped his glass back, drinking half the liquid in it.
Jasmine touched her glass to her lips and pretended to take a sip. She didn’t dare in case he’d laced it with a date rape drug. Not that she thought he would, but why risk it? Because of the urgency of her mission, she couldn’t get sloppy and let herself be incapacitated. Her son’s life hung in the balance. She had to keep a cool and smart head on her shoulders to free him.
Her actual thoughts winging ahead to the point in time she’d be back in that artifact room, Jasmine smiled secretly. “Mmm...is that the aged oak barrel that I taste?” She acted as if tasting Scotch was the only thing on her mind.
Christos drank another long swallow from his glass. “Precisely.” He smiled. “Nothing but the best for my guest.”
“I’ll need the distillery's name to order some for my home.” Jasmine took another pretend sip.
“I’ll get that for you.”
Jasmine cocked an eyebrow. “Money first.”
“Of course,” he said. “I’ll get that now.” He set his tumbler on a glass table in front of the sofa.
Jasmine set hers next to it and walked with him to the door.
He paused before opening the door. “I have to go into my father’s quarters. You can stay here and finish your drink.”
“I will,” she said with a smile. “I would like to speak with my bodyguard and let him know I’ll be a couple of hours and that no one is to disturb us.”
“By all means,” Christos said with a smile and left the room. He passed Ace and hurried across the landing to the double doors on the opposite end.
Jasmine remained just inside the door.
Ace approached.
She lowered her voice to a whisper in case Christos’s room was bugged with listening devices. “Clear your throat when he’s on his way back.”
He gave a slight nod.
In a louder tone, she said, “You’re to remain outside these doors for the next few hours. We’ll require complete privacy.” She winked.
Ace dipped his head once and took up a position beside the door, his arms crossed over his chest.
Jasmine left the door open and returned to the glass table where the two tumblers stood. She twisted the gem on the ring and dumped the powder into Christos’s half-finished drink. She poured some of her drink into his, lifted it, swirled the liquid around and was in the process of placing it back on the table when Ace cleared his throat.
She picked up her glass and walked toward the windows. When Christos walked into the room, Jasmine stood at the window, her drink half-empty. She looked out at the night sky, keeping Christos in her peripheral vision.
He entered, closed the door behind him and twisted the deadbolt lock. “Is your bodyguard good to go for a while?”
Jasmine nodded. “We’ll have complete privacy for the next couple of hours.”
“Good.” He held out a stack of currency. “I have your money.”
She tipped her head toward the glass table where his tumbler stood. “You can leave it on the table for now.”
He dropped the bills on the table, retrieved his glass and joined her at the windows.
She stared up at him. “Most men are intimidated by a woman who can beat them in a competition. I hope you don’t mind that I beat you at poker.”
Christos shook his head. “Not at all. I admire strong women. My mother was a strong woman.”
“How did she die?” Jasmine asked.
“Of breast cancer,” he said, staring down into his drink.
“That must have been a difficult time for you and your father.”
He nodded. “It was. They didn’t discover it until it was too late.”
She raised her glass. “Let’s drink to your mother and all mothers who love their little boys.” She lifted the glass to her lips and pretended to drink as long as Christos did.
He downed the rest of the liquid in his glass. “We’ve talked a lot about me. What about you?”
She smiled, wondering how long it would take for the drug to take effect. “What would you like to know?”
“To start with,” Christos stepped closer. “You’re a beautiful woman. Why aren’t you married?”
She raised her eyebrows. “It all goes back to being a strong woman. I have yet to find the man I’m willing to give up my independence for.” Except one. The guy standing in the hallway.
“You need a man who compliments your independence. An equal with whom you can share your life, not burden it.”
“Are you such a man?” she asked.
He lifted one shoulder. “Perhaps.” Christos tilted his head. “Do you like to dance?”
Jasmine nodded. “I love dancing.”
“Then we need music.” Tipping his glass, he drank the last of the scotch, turned, set the tumbler on the table and retrieved a remote-control device from a pocket on the side of the sofa. When he touched a finger to one of the buttons, music filtered through hidden speakers throughout the room.
He set the remote on the table beside his empty glass and held out a hand. “Dance with me.”
She laid her palm in his and let him draw her into his embrace.
For several moments, they swayed to the rhythm of the music.
Christos’s hand resting on the small of her back sank lower to span her bottom.
Jasmine reached behind her, gripped his hand and moved it up, on level with her waist. How long would it take for the drug to work?
The man’s brow wrinkled. “I thought you wanted this.”
“I want a lot of things,” she responded. “All in good time. Right now, I want to enjoy the music with a man who knows how to dance.”
He grinned. “Some say dancing is a form of foreplay.” Before she could guess his intentions, he twirled her away from him and back into his arms, dipping her low to the floor.
While he had her at a disadvantage, he briefly brushed his lips across hers.
When he straightened, he staggered a little, almost dropping Jasmine.
Jasmine regained her balance, steadied herself and then helped Christos regain his balance.
“I feel a little dizzy,” he said and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“We don’t have to dance,” Jasmine insisted. “Come. Sit.” She led him to the white leather sofa and urged him to sit. When she tried to sit close to him, he swung her around.
Jasmine lost her balance and sat across Christos’s lap.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Francesca,” he said, nuzzling her neck.
“Thank you,” she said, trying to ease off his legs and onto the cushion.
His hands gripped her hips and refused to let her go. “I don’t know why, but I’m....sleepy. And... you’re beautiful. I want to...make...love...to you.”
She chuckled softly. “Then let me do all the work.”
He leaned his head back. “Mmmm. That sounds wonderful.” His hands fell to his sides. “I’m all yours.”
She slipped off his lap and tipped him sideways until he lay across the sofa.
He closed his eyes, smiling. “I’ve never...been beat...by a woman.”
“Sweetheart, you’ve never met me before.”
He lay on his back, his lips curled. “Do as you want,” he said, his voice fading.
Though she wanted to get moving, Jasmine waited another minute or two to ensure Christos was well and truly asleep and wouldn’t follow her to the artifact room.
When Christos’s chest rose and fell in a slow, easy motion, Jasmine reached for the money on the table and shoved it into the pouch beneath her shirt. Then she stood and crossed the room to the locked door.
She twisted the lock and opened the door.
Ace stood there with a frown creasing his forehead. When he saw it was her, he pulled her into his arms. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, loving how warm and secure she felt wrapped in his arms. “Yes.” For another moment, she allowed herself to revel in his embrace. “I’m okay,” she said. “The drug worked like a charm.”
“Good.” He set her at arms’ length, looked down into her face and then kissed her quickly. “We need to get moving.”
“Right,” she said, pulling herself together, wishing she could stay longer in his embrace, but knowing she couldn’t. Maybe, when she had Eli back, safe and sound, they could pick up where they’d left off all those years ago.
She snorted softly. And if wishes were horses…
Chapter 9
Ace wanted to hold Jasmine so much longer, but they didn’t have much time.
“Athanasios could return at any moment,” Jasmine said, echoing his thoughts. She stepped free of his embrace. “We don’t want to be caught in his highly secure artifact room.”
“Agreed,” Ace said.
He led the way back to the staircase and down to the first floor. With no time to spare, he hurried down the corridor to the artifact room and shoved aside the painting of the Birth of Venus. After keying in the code Dmytro had provided, he held his breath, praying the code was still the same one Christos had used.
The heavy metal door slid slowly open.
Ace released the breath he’d been holding. As soon as the gap was wide enough, he slipped inside.
Jasmine rushed past him. “This way.”
Once they were both over the threshold, the door closed behind them.
“Where’s the scroll?” Ace asked, looking around at the large room full of so many things.
“Follow me. It’s at the far end of the room.” Jasmine led him to the back of the room, where a table stood with some kind of lamp hanging over the tabletop. A box lay on the table. It was there that Jasmine led him. She opened the box and showed him what was inside.
He stared down at several pieces of thin copper nestled in soft foam. “Is it all there?” he asked.
She nodded, quickly closed the case and slipped it into the satchel she found looped across the back of a chair. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Let me carry that,” Ace said.
Jasmine didn’t argue. She handed over the satchel and headed for the door.
Ace looked around for a doorknob and didn’t find one. “How—”
“I think he waved his hand over this.” Jasmine lifted her palm and held it over a red light on the wall. It turned green, and the door slid open.
With Ace leading the way, they ran down the hallway toward the front of the mansion. As they neared the front entrance, voices echoed in the foyer.
Ace stopped short and glanced around. He found the door to Athanasios’s study, twisted the knob and pushed it inward.
Jasmine dove through.
Ace followed, his senses on high alert, sure the voices they’d heard belonged to the returning owner of the mansion. He closed the door softly behind him.
Once inside Athanasios’ study, Jasmine hurried toward long curtains hanging on a wall. She drew them back to expose French doors and reached for the door handle.
“Wait,” Ace whispered. “What if the doors are connected to a security system?”
“We don’t have much time,” Jasmine said, “and really no other choice.”
Ace nodded and braced himself, ready to run.
Jasmine twisted the lock, turned the handle, hesitated another moment, then jerked the door open.
A screeching alarm sounded, echoing off the shelves of books and the ceiling. Shouts sounded from down the hall.
Jasmine shoved the door wide and ran out into a garden.
Ace followed close behind her.
The path twisted and turned through rose bushes, manicured shrubs and other flowering plants and vines. When the path curved back toward the house, Ace stopped and looked around for a way out. When he didn’t see an obvious exit, he plowed through a small gap in the hedges, emerging onto a lawn.
Jasmine pushed through behind him. She paused only long enough to slip the high heels off her feet.
They ran toward what appeared to be a garage.
A black SUV stood outside the building, possibly the vehicle that had delivered Athanasios to his home.
If they could steal the SUV, they might be able to crash through the gate. Ace started that way.
He hadn’t gone three yards before Jasmine caught up with him, grabbed his arm and pointed to the side of that building.
Armed men came running out a door, possibly living quarters or barracks for the Greek crime boss’s army of thugs. Each man carried a rifle or submachine gun as they raced for the house.
Ace and Jasmine changed directions, heading downhill, moving from shadow to shadow across the carefully maintained landscape toward the wall and the gate.
As the wall came into view, Ace slowed to a stop in the shadow of a low-hanging olive tree and stared up at the wall topped with concertina wire.
Jasmine leaned close and whispered. “If they didn’t take things out of my satchel, there should be a pair of wire cutters in one of the pockets.”
“Wire cutters would take too long to get through concertina wire. There has to be a way to open the gate from this side.” He edged along the wall toward the gate, where he searched for a mechanism that would trigger the gate to open.
The deep-throated sound of large dogs barking sounded from the direction of the house up the hill.
Ace’s stomach clenched. “Fuck.” Getting caught was one thing. Being ripped apart by attack dogs was not an option. They had to find a way out before the dogs reached them.
The rumble of what sounded like a truck engine approached the gate from the other side.
As it neared, the engine revved and sounded as though it was speeding up rather than slowing to stop. The truck was coming toward them fast.
Machine-gun fire pierced the air.
Ace grabbed Jasmine up in his arms and leaped backward, away from the gate, seconds before a huge truck slammed through the metal gate, knocking it flat to the ground.
More gunfire sounded.
The driver’s door swung open, and the familiar face of poker player Jon Anders leaned out and yelled, “Get in!”
When Ace hesitated, Jon said, “Hank sent me.”
More machine-gun fire sent Ace, with Jasmine still in his arms, running around to the other side of the truck.
Jon pushed the passenger door open.
Ace tossed Jasmine up into the seat, threw the satchel into her lap and scrambled up after her.
“Stay down!” Jon cried. He shifted into reverse and slammed his foot onto the accelerator, sending the big truck backward out of the gate.
Ace pushed Jasmine low and covered her body with his.
As they cleared the gate walls, the truck was pummeled with machine-gun fire, shattering the windshield and sending slivers of glass flying through the cab.
Jon didn’t slow the truck as it careened backward down the hill. He kept going until they rounded a bend in the road, and they were well out of range of the gunfire. Then he slammed his foot on the brakes, and the truck skidded sideways, stopping in the middle of the pavement and blocking the road entirely. He killed the engine and yelled, “Get out!” Jon dove from the driver’s seat to the ground.
Ace pushed open the door and jumped down. He reached for Jasmine and helped her to the ground as she clung to the bag carrying the scroll. She slung the satchel over her neck and across her body.
Ace and Jasmine rounded the back of the truck. He stopped near a stand of hedges, searching the darkness for the poker player.
“Over here!” Jon called out from behind the hedges.
Ace ducked around the hedges to find Jon mounting a motorcycle.
“I hope you know how to ride a motorcycle,” Jon called out, tipping his head to another bike behind him. He started his engine and twisted the throttle, revving the RPMs.
Ace nodded, mounted the other motorcycle parked behind the bushes and started the engine.
Jasmine climbed on behind him, tucking the satchel between their bodies.
Jon glanced over his shoulder, goosed his throttle and leaped out onto the road.
“Hold on!” he yelled.
Once Jasmine’s arms clamped around his middle, Ace twisted his throttle. The motorcycle leaped forward with more power than he’d anticipated.
