He looked between them, inspecting them bottom to top, from heels to hair styles. He grinned and stepped back. “Come in.”
~*~
“Where the hell is Ian?” Aidan hissed under his breath. “He said he was going in with us.”
“This is why we shoulda made that tosser ride with us,” Fox said. “If he doesn’t show, we move in without him. He’d only get in the way, besides.”
“Would I?” the man’s accent floated out of the darkness, and Aidan jumped. Inwardly. At least, he hoped it was only inward.
A thin shadow stepped out of the trees and moved toward them, seeming like nothing more than a trick of the imagination. Then a face suddenly appeared; Ian was drawing his ski mask up, revealing the narrow white jaw and high British cheekbones that made him look feminine in daylight…downright ghoulish now.
“Jesus,” Carter said. “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough to know that most of the manpower is currently housed in the outbuildings. They’ll come running to the main house once someone sounds the alarm, but it should be easy enough getting in, at first.”
Fox snorted.
“You armed?” Aidan asked.
“Of course.” Ian almost sounded offended. “You just worry about you, darling. I’ve got myself all covered.”
~*~
Something Aidan had told her cycled through her head as she crossed the threshold:Pay attention. Be aware. Keep your head on a swivel and don’t get so spooked you don’t pay attention to what’s around you. She latched onto those words, remembered the earnest look in his eyes, and did her best to block out her terror.
A stone-floored entrance hall flanked by mirrors. Open floorplan feeding into a massive formal sitting room. White furniture, roaring fire in the marble fireplace. She counted three other men, lounging on the white leather, drinks in hand. They all perked up as she and Jazz entered. The light in their eyes was nothing like the bright spark of interest she got from Aidan; it was flat and mindless with lust. A dozen mental pictures flicked through her mind, nightmares, all of them.
She had to focus.
Several case openings allowed an exit from the sitting room. One led down a hallway, she could tell, another fed into what looked like a dining room, a long glass table reflecting orbs of light from the overhead fixtures.
To the right, an opening led into a slate-floored sunroom. No doors, only windows. But through the sunroom was a restroom…right across from the mud room. And there was an exterior door there, if Fox’s recon work had been accurate. That was her goal: the mud room door. She had no idea how the boys were going to get across the lawn without being seen, but she didn’t have to know. All she had to do was get to that door.
Without being raped first.
No big.
Beside her, Jasmine stepped boldly forward, her walk a rolling, hip-popping gait that dripped pure sex. The woman cast a fast look over her shoulder at Sam, her blue eyes intense, frightening. She nodded, ever so slightly. She was going to be the distraction, she’d decided, while Sam went for the door. Putting herself in the line of fire.
Sam wanted to hug her. Instead, she nodded back.
Jazz put on a bright smile and said, “So fellas, I’ve just been awful lonely, and I’m wondering if a couple of you might wanna keep me company.” She strode into the center of the room and posed like a showpiece.
Sam spun to face the man who’d let them in the house. Her fake sultry smile hurt her face, the muscles around her mouth not used to that sort of expression. “One quick thing,” she said, trying to bat her lashes at him. “Can I use the restroom real quick?” When he frowned, she scrambled to improvise. “You see, I was a little…overexcited about coming to meet you boys tonight” – oh barf – “and I had a little teensy sip of vodka to settle my nerves” – she was talking like her sister, which meant she was going to have aseriousdiscussion with Erin about life choices in the near future– “and now I, well, you know.” She forced a high pitched giggle. “Let me just nip in and out and I’ll beallready for you guys.” Oh, major fucking barf.
But he bought it.
“Sure, yeah.” His eyes raked over her, lingering on her cleavage. “Right through there.”
Worried for Jasmine, she skirted around the corner, the casement, and into the sunroom. The room was cold and dark, the windows gleaming with moonlight. Beyond, she could already see a fresh blanket of white frost across the grass.
She searched through the glass as she walked, looking for signs of approaching bikers. They’d be in all black, and so she saw nothing, and kept moving. Clip-clip-clip across the slate.
The mud room stank of old cigar smoke, and on the bench beneath the hanging jackets, she spotted lots of empty cups and beer bottles, a few crushed-out cigarette butts. This must be where the goons came to smoke and piss out into the bushes.
The door had a large glass pane in its center, but an impressive sequence of locks. Locks designed to keep peopleout. She was able to throw all of them from the inside with a release of a chain and a turn of a few bolts.
Her hand was on the knob when a ghostly face appeared on the other side of the glass.
