Flirting With Danger by Suzanne Enoch Read Free Book Online

that she could get through even their beefed-up security with enough ease that she could have carried an explosive with her on either occasion.
    And what had she gotten out of their little encounter? Sam pursed her lips. She’d already known he was good-looking, but based on their little exchange, his temperature ran to hot and very sexy. It was fortunate that flirting had been part of her plan tonight, because she wasn’t sure she could have stopped herself from doing it. It could have been pheromones or something, but in retrospect perhaps a partnership with a man she found that attractive wouldn’t have been the best of ideas.
    She hiked the rest of the humid mile to where she’d left her car and tossed her gear into the trunk. As she climbed behind the wheel, though, she paused again. He hadn’t sounded the alarm . So he did believe at least part of her story. It was something, she supposed, but not nearly the level of assistance she’d wanted.
    Blowing out her breath to try to rid herself of the last of the adrenaline-driven arousal he’d sparked, she started the Honda. Time for another plan. Sometime in the next day or two she would have to boost another car, and she hated doing that. Her father had once accused her of being squeamish, but he would have been more accurate to call her a snob. Any slob could boost a car. She craved the thrill of going somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be, and of touching…time.
    Ancient texts, paintings by the old Masters, vases of the Ming Dynasty, Roman coins, Trojan stone tablets—they fascinated her, and she’d been criticized for that, too, for learning everything she could about an object before she liberated it. Her father had seen them only as money, and himself as the banker, transferring funds from one account to another and taking a cut for his trouble.
    Damn. Since Etienne had been less than forthcoming, she’d meant to ask Addison whether the stone tablet had gone missing or been destroyed, not that he was likely to tell her in either case. It made a difference, though; in one case the bomb had been a distraction, and in the other it had been a murder weapon. One most likely meant to kill him. Yummy, desirable Richard Addison. The only billionaire she knew who went about barefoot and wore snug-fitting jeans and had a nice ass.
    Sam shook herself. “Stop it,” she muttered, turning up the radio. If nothing else, her level of distraction after one conversation told her she’d done the right thing in getting out of there. So what if he gave the police her description? They’d never find her. Now she just needed to wait a few days for theofficial net to get tired of watching for her and develop a few weak spots. One was all she needed.
    She worried about Stoney, but he’d survived working with her less-cautious father, and he could take care of himself. As for her, Milan would be nice this time of year, too crowded with tourists for anyone to notice her. What she would do later, when she wanted to return to the U.S. and couldn’t because she would still be wanted for murder and attempted murder, she didn’t want to think about.
    Deciding she hadn’t damned Etienne nearly enough, she did it a few more times. Of course he’d only been concerned with himself; she was the same way. But he’d been sloppy, and now she’d been stuck with cleaning up his mess.
    For tonight, she headed back inland toward Clewiston, where her father had one of his safe houses, now hers. It was a crappy little place, but definitely nondescript. No one would think a self-respecting cat burglar would go within a mile of it.
    The wounds in her shoulder and leg smarted. She needed to wipe them down again with alcohol and touch up the super glue where at least one of the cuts had begun to pull open. Tomorrow she would worry about tomorrow. And tonight she would wonder why it continued to bother her that someone might be trying to kill Richard Addison, the one witness to her involvement in