Rarities Unlimited 03 - Die in Plain Sight

out as groans.
    Then her hands unfastened his pants and he knew he was in trouble. Fingers locked behind his head, he watched helplessly while she pulled out the prize. Her head bent down, her lips brushed, his body jerked.
    “Uncuff me,” he said hoarsely.
    “Mmm” was all she said.
    Her mouth circled, her tongue stroked, her teeth nibbled, and then she took him in. His whole body tightened at the hot, teasing suction. Sweat broke out along his spine. His breath came in jerks and left as husky groans.
    “Lacey, I—” He made a rough sound that could have been pain oracute pleasure. His hips arched and his breath stopped and he shuddered from head to heels. “Okay. I’m begging. You hear me? On my back. Begging.”
    “Mmm.”
    “Now, Lacey. God. Now.”
    She slid back up him, bit his shoulder, and pulled apart his hands. Before she could take a breath, he flipped her over, stripped off her underwear, wrapped her legs around his neck, and buried his mouth in her. When she could force herself to breathe again, the sounds she made might have been begging, might have been demanding, and neither of them cared which.
    The second time she came, he shifted upward until he could push into her. He held her that way, hard and deep, his body tight as a bowstring, sharing all the wild pulses and cries of her release. When she lay spent and languorous, he began to move inside her, starting slow, staying slow, watching her eyes widen as he stroked her higher and then higher still, listening to her breath break, feeling her arch up and abandon herself to him, moving with him until their shared world went red and black and wild.
    Still deeply joined with him, she slid down the glittering slope of ecstasy into sleep. He felt the trust, the relaxation, the sweet sigh of intimacy as she turned her face into his neck and slept.
    For a long time he simply savored it, and her. It was a lot better than thinking about all the reasons her grandfather might be obsessed with three particular deaths. And if Ian really worked at it, he didn’t think about the most common reason.
    A lot of serial killers collected trophies.

Savoy Hotel
    Midnight Saturday
48
    W hen Ian was sure that Lacey was deeply asleep, he carefully untangled their bodies and slid out of bed, pausing long enough to enjoy the picture she made with her unruly halo of curls and fancy dress riding well above her beautiful bare legs. He pulled the covers over her, fastened his pants, and padded barefoot through the two suites, checking windows and shoving wedges between hallway doors and frames so that even someone with a security card and a bolt cutter couldn’t get inside.
    Then he pulled out his cell phone and called Rarities. He was tempted to use Niall’s private number, but figured he’d get his head handed to him for calling late on a Saturday night. So he called the front desk instead. Because Rarities had clients all over the world, someone was always manning the phones and checking computers for e-mail.
    “Rarities Unlimited, how may I help you?”
    “This is Ian Lapstrake. Is Dana or Niall still working?”
    “No, sir. One moment, I’ll see if any lights are on in their private residences.”
    Ian waited. One of the good things about his bosses—or the bad, depending on how you looked at it—was that Dana and Niall lived in separate homes on the Rarities Unlimited “campus” overlooking the lights of Los Angeles.
    “There are lights on at Niall’s house. Should I ring him?”
    “Was he in a good mood when he left?”
    “I wasn’t here, sir.”
    Ian sighed. The phone person obviously was new. Niall was only in a good mood on Saturdays if he was working in his rose garden.
    “Try his house on the normal phone,” Ian said. “If it goes four rings, disconnect.”
    The phone rang once, twice, and then was snatched up before the third ring could end.
    “Well?” Niall demanded.
    “Sorry to interrupt,” Ian said, “but—”
    “It’s about bloody time,” Niall interrupted. “Any news on the robbery?”
    “Nothing useful. I’m putting Susa on the Donovan private plane at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”
    “You called me at midnight to—”
    “And I’ll be starting two weeks of vacation at one second after nine tomorrow morning,” Ian said. “I didn’t want you to be lining up any projects for me.”
    Silence. Then, “Any particular reason for the rush vacation?”
    “Lots of them.”
    “Any you’d like to share?” Niall