Chapter 3: Bite Me, Daddy: Chapter 3

Paine focused on the tactile.

The feel of her soft body along his own. The brush of one of her errant, silky blonde curls as it laid against his shoulder. The sound of her breathing. The harsh feel of the floor.

Anything to focus him. Anything to quiet the primal rage still coursing through his veins.

For months he had been searching for the person who had burned him. You didn’t live the type of life he did without making enemies. The thing was his enemies were usually the brute force type. The kind that came at you in dark alleys with knives.

He was a criminal renaissance man. The type of man who could pull off any job, no matter the danger or risk. His specialty was art theft, but he would also be used as a ‘cleaner’ for The Syndicate. He was the man they sent in to clean up messes. Whether it was helping operatives escape from foreign prisons before they made any deals with the authorities which could compromise The Syndicate, getting rid of an inconvenient dead body, or convincing a loose-tongued buyer that it was in his best interests to keep quiet about who his supplier was, Paine was the man they turned to.

The job that burned him, the Raj Pink diamond wasn’t even in his wheelhouse. He was in the country on another job, a museum had hired him to steal back a Klimt. That was how fucked up and incestuous the art world could get. A museum hiring a known art thief to steal back a painting stolen from them. It happened all the time. The museum would arrange a big splashy press release congratulating the authorities for the recovery. The authorities, happy for the good publicity, wouldn’t give a damn they’d had nothing to do with it. The insurance company would get their money back and everyone walked away happy.

He was in the country when the auction for the Raj Pink diamond was announced. The diamond had only been found a few years ago and no one expected the Saudi Arabian prince who owned it to let his precious stone go so quickly. There were rumors of insanely high gambling debts as the cause. Since the auction was supposed to be quick and quiet, The Syndicate needed to move fast. He was in the neighborhood as they say, so he got the call. When he showed up, someone had beaten him to it. Not too surprising, it wasn’t as if he was the only thief eying the stone. What was surprising was when he heard he was apparently the one hocking that same stone on the dark web. Someone had set him up. Everything spiraled downward quickly after that job.

The setup was subtle. Clever. Slowly chipping away at his reputation till there was nothing left. The final blow was that fucking Vermeer. He had to admit it was a stroke of genius. Returning a fraud to the museum he had stolen the original from…brilliant. It was public so The Syndicate could not help but notice, even though it wasn’t a job he completed for them. It made a very influential buyer not only drop him but encourage others to do so. In his line of work, relationships took a long time to build and only seconds to destroy. It only took a whisper of the law on your back or the inference your stolen goods were not genuine. That was the final nail.

No matter where he’d searched, no matter who he’d questioned with his special interrogation skills, no one knew anything.

The answer was always the same…who the fuck would be stupid enough to cross him?

He’d never had even a hint of suspicion it could be Mira. Mirage as she was referred to in their circles.

Her skills as a thief were legendary. Jewels and sensitive data swiped from corporate computers were her specialty. Given her diminutive, feline physique, it made sense. Paintings, antique sculptures and gold bars, his specialty, were all heavy as hell and usually required a crew for the heist. He excelled not only in the theft but in keeping a wayward crew of criminals in line and under his thumb.

Everyone knew Mirage preferred to work alone. She liked to be the one in complete control.

Like her nickname, she could steal into a building and past some of the most sophisticated security, appearing as no more than a quick bend of light, a glimmering flash. Her presence an illusion until the stolen item was discovered gone. She was discrete about her exploits, so there were only rumors, but he was fairly certain that job in Antwerp was hers. Over one million in uncut diamonds vanished out of secure vault without so much as a wayward hair or fingerprint left behind. There was the heist from the Carlton Hotel in Paris. The day after the American Ambassador’s Annual Christmas ball, it was discovered the hotel’s safe had been emptied of all the guests’ valuables. Not so much as a ring reappeared on the black market. Clever girl had probably ripped every diamond and sapphire out of its setting and then patiently sold them, stone by stone.

Mirage was nothing if not patient, a crucial personality trait in a well-planned revenge scheme.

He respected her for her skills, and he wanted her for her beauty. Like the thief he was, Paine appreciated something precious and rare; Mirage was both.

She was simply stunning. Her petite frame matched her gamine, almost other-worldly features. Skin so pale it was almost translucent. Dark, obsidian eyes which contrasted sharply with her silky, blond hair. Her lips dominated her delicate face, almost appearing too large and always painted a crimson red. Many a night he had lain awake dreaming of that mouth, thinking of the stain of her lipstick on his shaft.

He’d had a small taste, not enough…perhaps never enough…that one fateful night in Istanbul two years ago. The rebel faction of the military had staged a coup d’état. The Syndicate had pulled him from a job in Munich and chartered an emergency flight for him into Turkey.

He was tasked with rescuing a valuable asset. Mirage.

They had hired her to steal government documents during the upheaval which could be used to bribe and coerce future officials, on both sides of the coup. It didn’t matter to The Syndicate who won just as long as they had dirt on them. The situation in the country erupted in violence sooner than anyone had anticipated. She was holed up in a house near the front lines of the fighting.

At that time, he had known her through reputation alone. As she preferred to work alone, they had never been on a crew or job together. Thieves of their distinction were a rare commodity. It was unusual to not have crossed paths earlier.

He would never forget his first sight of her.

Hiding under a table, she was curled up like a frightened kitten. She was dressed much as she was now. All in black. Sleek like a cat. Those beautiful red lips quivering. Her black eyes large and bright with fear. A few specks of blood dotted her cheek. Scanning the room, he saw a corpse lying amongst the rubble.

“It wasn’t me.” The softly uttered yet defiant claim was the first she had spoken since he’d broken through the door. Her voice was smooth and low, dark honey.

Ripping the tattered cloth from off the table above her, Paine knelt close to her side. Using an edge of the cloth, he wiped the blood from her pale cheek.

“I wouldn’t give a damn if it was, Mira.”

He could see her eyes assessing him. In this business, you cannot trust anyone but you need to learn who you can at least rely on. He could see she was trying to decide if he was savior or executioner.

“That’s not my name,” she said finally. “Everyone calls me Mirage.”

“I’m not everyone.” His lips quirked up in an arrogant smile. “And I’m here to help you. The Syndicate sent me. So you can put down that steak knife you’re clutching.”

Lowering her eyes and turning her chin slightly away, she didn’t even question how he knew her concealed left hand was fisting a knife. He heard the soft thud on the floor as she dropped it. Whether it was because she believed he meant her no harm or that she knew a mere knife would do nothing to stop him from killing her, he couldn’t say.

Turning back to face him, she countered, “Who says I need help?”

Paine knew in that moment she would be his. She immediately fascinated him. Small and vulnerable yet feisty with balls to the wall courage. He wanted to both protect her and push her limits. Not one to waste time, it wasn’t long before he lifted her slight frame into his arms, ignoring her initial struggles and protestations, and carried her to the first bedroom he could find. Tossing aside the rubble covered blanket, he pinned her body beneath his own. Never in his life had he wanted to feel the hot grip of a woman’s pussy around his cock as he did in that moment.

And Mira did not disappoint.

He felt like a phoenix, burnt to a cinder from her touch only to be reborn.

The next morning, he had left to do some reconnaissance to figure out the best way to smuggle her out of the country since the military had confiscated the private plane and closed the airport. When he returned, she was gone. Vanished into thin air. As if the entire night had been nothing more than an illusion.

He never did learn how she was able to save herself. The Syndicate would only inform him that both his and her jobs had been completed. Nothing more. For months, he wasn’t even sure if she lived. Then he learned she had hooked up with that lying sack of shit, Dev. A woman of her beauty, intelligence and skill…of her fire…with that asshole?

Paine wasn’t the least bit sorry he’d put a bullet in the piece of shit’s head.

Shaking off the past, he tilted his head to look at Mira. Her eyes were closed. Those beautiful, full lips of hers were swollen. The skin along her cheek stained a slight pink from where he had smeared her crimson lipstick with his kiss. A pale streak of light from the coming dawn peeked from between the curtains. The golden light fell on her back. It made her skin glow a rosy pink and showed the faint outline of his fingerprints on her hips from where he had gripped her.

He had taken her on the floor like an animal, like a man possessed.

Between laying eyes on her, the woman who had haunted him for two full years, and her trying to kill him…fury and lust twisted and turned inside him, battling for control.

Then he saw the Raj Pink diamond nestled between her breasts…and he knew.

Knew she was the one who had burned him. Who had ruined his life with her lies, her deceit.

He just still didn’t know why.

Rising, he towered over her still prone form. She hadn’t moved or spoken.

He broke the silence. “I want answers, Mira, and you’re going to give them to me.”

He turned, and despite the early hour, he poured himself a whiskey from the sideboard.

Fuck, he needed a drink.

All he heard was a whisper of shifting air.

When he turned back, she was gone. Her still form nothing but an illusion. His little kitten had been primed to run the moment she got a chance.

Dropping his glass, he was at the front door before it could shatter on the hard floor.

It was still locked and secure.

He vaulted up the stairs. Turning left into the second bedroom. He knew that was how she gained entrance but there was nothing, no hint of movement.

He searched every shadow and dark corner of the tiny safe house but she was nowhere to be found. As in Istanbul, she had vanished into thin air.

Retuning downstairs, Paine poured himself another drink, a begrudging smile on his lips. Damn, the woman was good…but he was better.

He would search for her again…and this time he would not give up so easily.

He would find his bad little kitten and make her pay for all her misdeeds.

“Holy shit, she really did a number on you.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Paine was Skyping with Logan, a fellow associate who currently lying low in Montreal.

Holding an ice pack up to his bruised jaw, Paine grimaced. “A well placed kick is all.”

“And she got a shot off?” Logan gave a low whistle. “Looks like you’re slipping, old boy.”

“Obviously I let her get that far. I wanted to see who the fuck was out to burn me. I just didn’t expect it to be—”

“A woman you fucked one night and left the next morning a couple of years ago…yeah…what are the odds,” deadpanned Logan.

“It wasn’t like…you know what, fuck you. Do you have a lead on where she may go or not?”

Although preferring to work alone on a per contract basis, Logan was still in The Syndicate’s good graces and one of the few who’d never believed the rumors and lies about him. Paine wouldn’t say he trusted the guy, but he came as close to it as someone like him ever did.

“Well, there’s talk she’ll be in London. There is a special exhibit of the Duchess of Devonshire’s jewels going up at the Tate in two weeks. The Syndicate has a buyer lined up for two of the diamond necklaces and a pearl bracelet.”

Changing the subject, he asked, “Have you tracked down the ex-girlfriend of that idiot who pissed off the cartel yet?” Despite being blacklisted, Paine still had his sources.

Logan just smiled, neither confirming nor denying he had taken the contract to track down some chic named Chloe who had information that just about every nasty character and several governments wanted to get their hands on.

After a moment, Logan turned serious. “Listen, you might want to have a care. If The Syndicate catches wind of this little personal feud you have going on with Mirage, they just might decide to eliminate you both to avoid any possible…unpleasantness.”

The Syndicate was a rich beyond measure organization of criminals, politicians and businessmen. A cross between the Knights Templar, the Skull and Bones society and some evil Bond villain. They had bankrolled some of the largest heists in the 21st century. Their influence toppled governments and created kings. While it was extremely lucrative to work for them, it was equally dangerous to cross them and they usually acted swiftly at the smallest threat to their organization. Despite his years of working jobs for them, Paine still didn’t know a single name or even where they based their operation. They were that cloaked in secrecy. Art and jewelry theft were only a fraction of the shit they were involved in. He suspected it might go as deep as gun trafficking and drugs, but he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that they were extremely rich and very powerful. Titan makers and breakers. Only the best got on their payroll. It was a testament to Paine’s skills that they had stayed their hand in having him killed so far. Paine wasn’t fooled into thinking it was a form of loyalty. They probably needed him for something in the future and then would just as easily kill him later.

“What did she try to kill you with?” asked Logan curiously.

Paine’s lips tightened into a thin line. “A .22,” he barely uttered.

Logan burst out laughing. “She tried to kill the legendary Paine Darwin with a fucking. .22? I don’t know whether she is stupid or fucking insane.”

Paine’s eyes narrowed. “Careful. That’s my woman you’re talking about.”

Undeterred by his warning, Logan responded sarcastically, “Does she know that?”

“She will when I’m done with her,” growled Paine.

“Still…a .22…she might as well have said you have a little dick!” Logan laughed.

The rest of his laughter was cut off when Paine abruptly ended the call.

He had a trip to London to plan.