Page 32 of Donovan Blake: Adrenalin

“Like I said, anything.”

She laughed, then shook her head.

“Honestly, Donovan, what could that possibly be, aside from traipsing through the woods. You can relax. I have no desire to be eaten by a mountain lion, or any other creature lurking out there.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Shooting her a look, Donovan walked into his large closet and locked the door behind him. His instincts never lied and he wasn’t convinced, but there really wasn’t much trouble she could cause in his mountain fortress. And Nadia would be there watching over her.

Turning his attention to the matters at hand, he moved to the back of the spacious room, pushed aside a row of tailored suits and pressed his open palm against the wall. There was a click, and a small panel slid aside to reveal a row of deep shelves. Lifting out a specific burner phone, he placed a call to Boris.

“Hey, Don,” Boris exclaimed. “I’ve been waiting to hear from you.”

Donovan scowled. He hated people using the shortened version of his name.

“I’m leaving for Southampton in about an hour.”

“Does this mean you’re—”

“It means I’m interested enough to fly there and check things out,” he replied brusquely. “I’ll keep you informed.”

“Just remember the sky’s the limit. If you get that necklace you’ll make some serious cash.”

“Only if I walk away in one piece. What about Franco? Any news?”

“Not a peep. Everything’s quiet. I bet he’s still licking his wounds after that major fuck up with you.”

“Let’s hope so. I’ll be in touch.”

“Don’t take too long. My buyer’s impatient.”

“Tell him if this is rushed there won’t be anything to buy. I’ll get back to you when I have more news.”

Abruptly ending the call, he lifted out two small revolvers, a shoulder holster, slipped a second burner phone into his pocket, then closed the panel and shifted the suits back in place.

But as he carried the items and set them on the center island, Phoebe’s sassy smile flashed through his mind. It was bothering him. He was sure the minute he left she’d be up to no good.

With the image of her face still in the forefront of his mind, he strode across to the cabinet holding his luggage and pulled out a small, sturdy suitcase. It contained several lead-lined, hidden compartments. After secreting away the weapons and cell phones, he added a change of clothes, his laptop computer, then marched back to the door.

“Hey, Phoebe,” he said, opening it and poking his head out. She was still sitting on the couch, and she jerked her head up.

“You shouldn’t creep up on a girl like that. You startled me.”

“You must have been deep in thought.”

“I was. I still haven’t called my mother and she’ll be worried.”

“Here, you can use this,” he offered, lifting out the spare burner phone and walking across to her. “When you’ve finished take off your clothes and bend over the bed.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I thought you had to leave.”

“Question me again and I’ll fetch that paddle.”

“Okay, okay,” she said hastily.

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