Hot Ice Read Online Free PDF Page B

“They stole a Porsche. We’re following them to the airport now. They won’t get far, Mr. Dimitri.”
    “No, they won’t get far. I have a few calls to make, a few… buttons to push. I’ll meet you in a day or two.”
    Remo rubbed his hand over his mouth as his relief began to spread. “Where?”
    There was a laugh, soft, distant. The sense of relief evaporated like sweat. “Find Lord, Remo. I’ll find you.”

C  H  A  P  T  E  R
2
    His arm was stiff. When Doug rolled over he gave a little grunt of annoyance at the discomfort and absently pushed at the bandage. His face was pressed into a soft feather pillow covered by a linen case that had no scent. Beneath him, the sheet was warm and smooth. Gingerly flexing his left arm, he shifted onto his back.
    The room was dark, deceiving him into thinking it was still night until he looked at his watch. Nine-fifteen. Shit. He ran a hand over his face as he pushed himself up in bed.
    He should be on a plane halfway to the Indian Ocean instead of lying around in a fancy hotel room in Washington. A dull, fancy hotel room, he remembered as he thought of the fussy, red-carpeted lobby. They’d arrived at one-ten and he hadn’t even been able to get a drink. The politicians could have Washington, he’d take New York.
    The first problem was that Whitney held the purse strings, and she hadn’t given him a choice. The next problem was, she’d been right. He’d only been thinking of getting out of New York, she’d been thinking of details like passports.
    So, she had connections in D.C., he thought. If connections could cut through paperwork, he was all for it. Doug glanced around the high-priced room that was hardly bigger than a broom closet. She’d charge him for the room, too, he realized, narrowing his eyes at the connecting door. Whitney MacAllister had a mind like a CPA. And a face like…
    With a half grin he shook his head and lay back. He’d better keep his mind off her face, and her other attributes. It was her money he needed. Women had to wait. Once he had what he was going for, he could swim neck-deep in them if he wanted.
    The image was pleasant enough to keep him smiling for another minute. Blondes, brunettes, redheads, plump, thin, short, and tall. There was no point in being too discriminating, and he intended to be very generous with his time. First, he had to get the damn passport and visa. He scowled. Damn bureaucratic bullshit. He had a treasure waiting for him, a professional bone breaker breathing down his neck, and a crazy woman in the room next door who wouldn’t even buy him a pack of cigarettes without marking it down in the little notebook she kept in her two-hundred-dollar snakeskin bag.
    The thought prompted him to reach over to pluck a cigarette from the pack on the nightstand. He couldn’t understand her attitude. When he had money to spend, he was generous with it. Maybe too generous, he decided with a half laugh. He certainly never had it for long.
    Generosity was part of his nature. Women were a weakness, especially small, pouty women with big eyes. No matter how many times he’d been taken by one, he invariably fell for the next. Six months before, a little waitress named Cindy had given him two memorable nights and a sob story about a sick mother in Columbus. In the end, he’d parted company with her—and with five grand. He’d always been a sucker for big eyes.
    That was going to change, Doug promised himself. Once he had his hands on the pot of gold, he was going to hold on to it. This time he was going to buy that big splashy villa in Martinique and start living his life the way he’d always dreamed. And he’d be generous with his servants. He’d cleaned up after enough rich people to know how cold and careless they could be with servants. Of course, he’d only cleaned up after them until he could clean them out, but that didn’t change the bottom line.
    Working for the wealthy hadn’t given him his taste for