“Too smart. I don’t like not knowing my enemy. Go in if you can, find out something, anything for me. A name. A face. Or at the very least get her to stop stealing my people. Anything and you’ll have your month off in Europe. If you can get Hunt back, you can take him with you.”
“Now that is a serious offer.” Nora knew she really didn’t have anything to lose. Worse came to worse, they wouldn’t let her in, she wouldn’t get her month off, and life would go on as usual. No real danger involved except for failure. No real danger but for … but surely not. He wouldn’t be there … would he? “Brad’s not still there … is he?”
Kingsley didn’t answer.
“Shit.” Nora collapsed onto her side.
“One month, chérie. Yes or no?”
Nora straightened up again.
“Fine. Fine, fine, fine. I’m going. I’ll go. Maybe Brad won’t be there today. Am I going today?”
“You’re going right now.”
Kingsley nodded at the window. The Rolls Royce had pulled up to a dark alley shrouded by two overhanging trees. The trees had inspired the name of Black Forest. One didn’t see big trees often in New York except in Central Park and yet these two seemingly had sprung from nowhere to serve as guardians of Black Forest.
As she gazed down the dark alley, water started to pound on the roof of the car as the rain turned to a storm.
“No. Today’s not good. I can’t get my leather wet.”
Kingsley reached under the seat and pulled out a red cloak with a hood.
“No more excuses.”
With a growl, Nora grabbed the cloak and pulled it around her. She covered her hair with the hood and looked once more down the alley.
“If I don’t make it back alive tell You-Know-Who-”
“You will be fine. Go. Vite!”
Kingsley waved his hand.
Nora sighed.
“You’ll wait here for me, right?”
“Bien sûr,” Kingsley said.
Nodding, Nora opened the door and stepped into the rain. Just to be on the safe side, she brought her toy bag with her. The items in her toy bag were designed for inflicting pain–consensual pain but pain nonetheless. If she was heading into Black Forest, she would go armed.
Staring down the dark alley, she steeled herself. She could do this. She had Kingsley as her backup in case anything …
From behind her she heard the sound of squealing tires. Kingsley had gone.
Nora could only roll her eyes.
“Fucking Frenchman …” she mumbled as she strode forward. “It’s like World War II all over again.”
Early afternoon still, the club hadn’t yet opened. The heels of her boots echoed hollowly off the wet concrete and the sound followed her to the green door at the entrance to Black Forest.
A rare case of nerves overtook Nora. She’d beaten the shit out of some of the biggest, toughest men in the world if they paid her enough for the privilege. But they’d wanted her to, invited her to. Here, at Black Forest, she came unwanted, uninvited. To comfort herself, she took her red riding crop out of her toy bag and held it by the handle. One never knew …
Nora tried the doorknob and found it locked. No worries there. She started to open her toy bag to dig out her lock-pick set when the door flew open so suddenly she gasped.
The man said nothing, asked no questions, and made no introductions. Of course, he didn’t need to say anything or make any introductions. Nora knew Brad, had seen him before, had met him before … but no matter how many times she’d seen him she could never wrap her mind around the sheer size of the man. At six foot four he stood no taller than her tallest ex-lover. But where most tall men tended toward the lean side, Brad was muscle from shoulder to shoulder, neck to ankle, and so wickedly handsome with his lupine smile and his salt-and-pepper hair that Nora could never look at him without wanting to get hip to hip.
Enemy, she reminded herself sternly. No fraternizing with the enemy.
“Shouldn’t you be at the gym?” Nora recovered her composure quickly. “I can see you shrinking by the second.”
“Well …” he said, looking Nora up and down. He seemed to take particular note of what she held in her hand and her signature red cloak. “If it isn’t Little Red Riding Crop.”
Nora gave him her brightest, broadest, most obnoxious smile.
“If it isn’t the Big Brad Wolfe. We meet again.”
“And me not even properly dressed.” Brad wore nothing but a pair of loose-fitting black pants and a black shirt … unbuttoned.
“I have that same shirt.” Nora tapped her chin. “Well, actually it’s a bed sheet. Same size. Very comfy.”