him an air of reckless instability. They were gleaming now with excitement—and that recklessness—as he looked down at her. “Is it too much to ask where this cache of cocaine is located?”
“Only a few blocks away. Despard and his men are using a small deserted warehouse close to the waterfront for storage. They were going to transport the cocaine by sea but they weren’t able to hijack the yacht they wanted.” Kateglanced up and down the street cautiously before turning right and motioning to Beau to follow. “It shouldn’t take us more than fifteen minutes to get there.”
“Providing we don’t run into trouble.” He fell into step with her, easily accommodating his long strides to her short but rapid steps. “It appears we’ve given your criminal cohorts the slip, but that doesn’t mean they won’t catch up with us.”
“You don’t have to sound so hopeful,” she said, shooting him an indignant glance. “You may be enjoying all this enormously, but I assure you I’m taking it very seriously.” She frowned. “And Despard isn’t any cohort of ours. I can’t stand the man. He’s a damn cockatrice.”
“A what?” he asked blankly.
“A cockatrice,” she repeated impatiently. “You know, the mythical serpent that could kill with a look.”
“Oh, of course.” Beau’s lips were twitching. “How could I have forgotten? Please forgive me. I can see how lumping you together with this cockatrice would be a terrible faux pas. It justseemed reasonable to assume you’d been partners with Despard and had a falling out.”
“No, Jeffrey never takes partners. He works alone.” She gave him a fierce glance. “And he’s not really a criminal. Not like those cockatrices.”
“Really? Well, what kind of criminal is he?” Beau asked idly. “I gather he was scheduled to transport this cocaine illegally into the U.S. I believe that constitutes smuggling and the last I heard that was considered very criminal indeed. Are you saying he’s not a smuggler?”
“No.” She frowned unhappily. “Yes. Oh, I guess he is, but he doesn’t look at it that way. He never smuggles drugs or liquor or anything that could actually hurt someone.”
“It’s unfortunate that the authorities don’t regard the smuggling of things that don’t actually hurt someone as all right.”
“Jeffrey is a throwback to another era. He sees himself as some sort of Henry Morgan or Jean Laffite.” She shrugged helplessly. “He regards smuggling as a sort of modern-day gentleman’s adventurous pastime.”
“And do you feel the same way?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said simply. “But I know he believes it, and that’s enough for me.”
“Such devotion.” There was a barbed sting to his mockery. “Your lover must be very grateful for such an understanding mistress, as well as such an enterprising one. How often do you drag him out of situations like that one tonight?”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Jeffrey isn’t my lover.” It never occurred to her he would think that but it was also obvious that for some reason the idea didn’t sit well with him.
His gaze flew swiftly to her face. “Then the other one?”
“Julio?” She had to laugh. “Julio’s only eighteen.”
“He looks older. I would have said he was at least twenty-five.” His lips quirked again. “And an old lady like you isn’t interested in younger men, I take it?”
“Julio’s been through a lot. His life has been very difficult.” Her expression was suddenly sober. “We’re all friends, that’s all. We take care of each other.” Her clear blue eyes held a childlikegravity as they looked up at him. “Haven’t you ever had a woman as a friend?”
“Once.” He grimaced. “A very special lady, but unfortunately six years’ bondage went along with that friendship, so I’ve shied away from even the thought of seeing a woman in that light ever since.” His smile was frankly sensual. “I prefer that the bondage be