Page 20 of Taming Achilles

It was unbelievable that I was ready to take her again so soon. But the siren had been designed just for me. My own fucking fantasy come to life.

She blushed. Looking away. My heart sank as she closed the door and went to the tub, turning on the faucet and filling it with cold water.

That was her way. She liked cold baths. Cold like her soul. She thought it tightened her skin, and prevented soreness from exercise.

She hissed as she stepped into it, submerging in the cold water and leaning back with her eyes closed.

I turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist and walked out. I needed to spend less time with her, not more.

This was all going to go sideways in spectacular fashion. I was the conductor on a train heading to a bridge that had collapsed. Instead of pumping the breaks, I was putting more coal on the fire because I knew that the fall would be thrilling. Just like the woman who would pull me to my doom.

Chapter 8

Pippa

The police station smelled like stale coffee, and sweaty polyester suits. Would it hurt them to wear something less synthetic? Maybe a nice wool, or a high quality silk shirt? Something that wouldn't have that wet dog smell if they sweat in it?

This was California after all, and the air conditioners weren’t always optimal in these old government buildings.

Geordie was the best dressed man in the place. I bitterly understood that he was the best looking too. He’d walked out of his shower and barely spared me a glance until he ushered me into the car and drove me here an hour later.

I wore thin jeans that did wonders for my posterior, and topped it with a white silk blouse and light blazer. I kept my makeup and jewellery minimal, keeping most of it centred on the bags under my eyes from a rough, sleepless night.

My one luxury was the perfume that I sprayed liberally on my throat and wrists. Places Geordie had loved to kiss, once upon a time.

Detective Rhys Tanner met us at the door and he led me through the room of cubicles. The sound of typing and chatter hovered over our heads. He led me around with his hand on my lower back, like we were on some kind of date going through a crowded restaurant.

“We’re not very fancy around these parts,” said Detective Tanner, “but I did go ahead and get you a coffee and some pastries. We’re more of a black coffee and donut crew, but I figured you might be into something more fancy.”

“That’s fabulous,” I smiled, turning towards him and placing one hand, lightly, on his bicep. With a slight flutter of my eyelashes, I made him blush. It was practically second nature to turn men’s heads. To weave them under my spell. That was my greatest asset as a spy. “So thoughtful of you. You’ve been so kind.”

I heard Geordie grunt behind us, and I gave him a quick glare before turning my charm back towards the detective.

“Aw, shucks.” Good Lord, this man really said those words. I thought that was just a turn of phrase used by Hollywood. “Ma’am, I know that it must be really scary to find out someone was in your apartment. And with you being there?” He shook his head as he opened the door to a conference room and gestured for me to walk through.

His eyes roamed my body, and a certain darkness clouded his eyes. As quick as it appeared, it was gone.

I hid my smile as I wondered, briefly, if the kindly American detective had a bit of deviousness in him. Did he have inner demons that he hid behind his cinnamon and sugar personality? How interesting.

Windows covered one side of the room, the bright mid-morning sun shining like a beacon on the particle board wooden table. At one end was Detective Delgado, her face nose-deep in some papers, a laptop in front of her.

At her right was Hugo Martin, Caledonia’s French Foreign Legionnaire. He was a bear of a man with a thick black beard, and shoulders the size of an oil tanker. He dwarfed the laptop that he tapped away on with one finger on each hand.

“Bonjour, Pip,” he said, without looking up. “Ça va?” Hello. Are you okay?

“Oui,” I said, showing off that I spoke perfect French. It was a talent that I liked to pull out to amuse a crowd, and give myself added appeal. “Merci d’être venu m’aider.” Yes. Thank you for coming to help.

Our entrance hadn’t escaped Detective Delgado’s notice. She looked at her partner who was still standing at the door and rolled her eyes. Had she noticed his attention? Was he looking at my arse? That was usually where men’s gazes lingered when they stood behind me.

“Your man here,” Delgado nodded to Hugo, “had some good information. I’m scared to find out how you managed to get it so fast.”

She looked accusingly at Hugo, who shrugged.

“All legal, you can check,” his Parisian accent always sent me comfort, reminding me of the good old days when we were kids in Switzerland. There was also something about his voice that also reminded me of Chloe. They had that same accent that, I swear, they refused to get rid of. Much like Geordie refused to adopt a more English accent. His Scottish voice was definitely thicker nowadays. It had to have been on purpose.

Hugo was lying, of course. There was no way his means were legal. He simply cleaned it up afterwards to look legal. You were only an outlaw if people knew you committed a crime, and people like Hugo were experts at not getting caught. I still hadn’t found out what his criminal ties were. I knew he had them. He must have.

“Aye? You have good news for us?” Geordie pulled out a chair and sat down across from Hugo, without so much as a glance towards me.

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