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adventure of a lifetime. I know you want me. If that copper hadn’t come along…” He caught her wrist as she was about to slap his face. “I’ll let you get away with one, not two, darling, so you’d better put those little claws away.” He moved his hands down to her breasts. She gasped, outraged yet excited to have him do what he wanted with her body.
    “Don’t touch me,” she protested, even though it sounded weak.
    “You want me, Fallan. Don’t you?”
    He kissed her and she knew she’d been caught. Moaning, she wanted to touch him everywhere. Bishop swept her hair off her face, tilted her chin and deepened the kiss. Then he pulled back, leaving her breathless.
    “You taste like sweet honey,” he said.
    Her senses on high alert, she had the urge to wind her hands round his neck. She wanted to feel his thick hair between her fingers. The rattle of the cuffs brought her out of her semi-erotic haze.
    “I don’t want you. I’d never want a man like you.”
    Bishop chuckled. Fallan was sure she saw disappointment in his eyes before he turned away. Seeing the streak of real emotion, she felt guilty. The mysterious Bishop had been the first to really open up the woman inside her.
    “I’m sorry,” she whispered, not sure if he’d heard her at all. Closing her eyes, she cursed her body and her reactions to this man.
    “Like I said, you want me.”

Chapter Three
     
     
     
    Waterman choked on his Earl Grey. It went down the wrong hole, and the resulting coughing fit lasted quite some time. At one point he thought he wasn’t going to be able to breathe, and he smacked the side of his fist on his chest, mentally cursing for swallowing wrong and showing a weaker side of himself. It was never a good thing to let your guard down in front of your employees, to have them know you were in any way vulnerable, but there was nothing he could do about that now. What was done was done, so to speak, and he’d have to deal with it.
    The coughing eased, and he looked ahead through watery eyes. Kemp stood in front of Waterman’s desk, and Frankie lounged in a chair beside him, seemingly unperturbed. Neither offered their services of a pat on the back. Waterman didn’t like fuss, and, unless he was dying, those two could stay the fuck back and they knew it.
    Once suitably composed, Waterman wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and took another sip of tea to ease his now-sore throat. He placed the white bone china cup on the matching saucer and eyed the men opposite. They were his best blokes, but at the moment he wondered whether he would be better off recruiting new blood. These two were getting on a bit, going stale. He took his attention off them and stared at the green leather blotter on his desk, mulling over how to sort out this mess.
    “So,” he said, “say that again, Frankie. But slower. I need to make sure I heard you right.”
    Frankie squirmed. Kemp looked smug.
    “One of the women is with a government goon,” Frankie said, sitting straighter and holding both hands up as if to ward Waterman off should he decide to lunge forward. “I telephoned each of our collectors to make sure all the packages had been hidden then picked up, like you said, but there’s been a hitch.”
    “A hitch,” Waterman stated. “A fucking hitch. I don’t do hitches, do I? Go on.”
    Frankie cleared his throat. “Our bloke who was going to pick the package up at the hotel a few miles down the road—”
    Waterman sucked in a breath then released it slowly. “Which one, fuck-face? We’ve got several hotels on our list that are a few miles down the fucking road.” He clamped his lips together to stop himself calling Frankie a useless bastard. He wasn’t scared of him, could handle himself if he had to, but Frankie had a reputation for being a right hard fucker and Waterman didn’t fancy being on the end of his fist tonight.
    “The Hidden Gem,” Frankie said.
    “The Hidden fucking Gem,” Waterman said, chuckling