Love in the Vault Part Four by Brenda Whiteside

Part Four

“Let me get your feet free.” Jack knelt in front of Eleanor, quickly releasing the rope from her ankles. When he stood, he offered his hand.

She pinched her lips and stood without his help, prancing away and around to the side of the table. When she pivoted in a huff, prepared to question his lack of bravado in the face of their impending doom, the sight of his relaxed stance and teasing expression froze her intentions.

Dove gray eyes regarded her, crinkled at the corners as if amused. His smile was a flirtation when his bottom lip twitched. Both hands were tucked in his pants pockets, his head tilted just so. She hadn’t noticed before that he was without his tie, and his jacket hung unbuttoned. Although covered in a shirt and jacket, his biceps bulged, challenging the restraint of material. The open shirt collar exposed his strong neck and a hint of a well-formed chest. She couldn’t stop herself from gazing down the line of shirt buttons and imagining tight abs beneath the pale green material.

He cleared his throat.

She startled.

“I like your hair like that, loose, and swaying around your shoulders when you walk.”

Her hand went involuntarily to push the tresses off her neck. The compliment left her speechless…but only momentarily. “I can’t believe you’re talking about my hair when we could be hours from suffocating in this tomb.”

“We’re fine. Maybe—”

“Fine?” She stomped within inches of him. Someone needed to take control of this disaster. “How the hell can you be so blasé about our situation? Why did you let that bozo escape and lock us in here? Why didn’t you—”

“I was going to say, maybe I should explain.” He’d taken her by the shoulders, and his thumbs resting on the bare skin where the dress ended below her collarbone did more to rob her of speech than his interruption. “All right?”

She stepped back from his seemingly innocent embrace, merely nodding.

A frown passed over his face. “I’m sorry.”

His touch had weakened her resolve, but she clung to the control her anger had lent. She waved a hand through the air. “Continue.”

 “I saw King kiss you. It struck me as odd. Not odd that he’d want to kiss you.” He shuffled his feet. “But what he was doing at the party, after having been fired. I wondered if there was something…between you. I didn’t think there could be. The man’s a dolt, and you’re…” He studied her face.

She hitched a small gasp. The anger fled in a whoosh. The goose bumps his words caused sent little jolts of fire from her shoulders to her toes. “What, Jack? What am I?”

“You’re so much more than he deserves.” He swallowed, inhaled deeply, and continued. “When I saw you in the elevator, the way you stood, your face, I thought something was wrong, and I had to follow. I took the stairs and reached the first floor before you did. When the elevator continued to the basement, I was certain something was wrong.”

The concern on his face furrowed his brow. She wanted to hug him, throw herself into his arms and bury her face in his chest.

“The stairs are at the other end of the basement from the elevator, and by the time I crept to within sight of you and King, you were headed into the vault with a gun at your back. That’s when I headed back upstairs.”

Like a shot of cold water the warm fuzzies were washed away, and she jerked. “You what?”

“I recognized the gun, Eleanor.”

“Oh, well, that makes it better. You just left me?” She stepped back, but he quickly closed the distance between them.

“It wasn’t real. The phony gun is the cigarette lighter from Clines’s desk. I recognized it right away.” He spread his arms, and she stepped into them as if drawn by a magnet. “You weren’t in any danger. Like I said, King’s a dolt. A thief, a jerk, and a dolt.”

“Oh.” Her heart pattered, her arms hung limp at her sides. What should she do with her arms? She’d only imagined being held by this man, and in her wildest dreams she always knew what to do with every part of her body. “But, if the gun was a fake, why didn’t you…” She glanced away. He could’ve immediately rescued her.

He lifted her chin. “I’m sorry if you were frightened. I’d heard enough of your sparring with King to know you were holding your own.”

“I was more concerned about getting locked in this vault.”

His caress along her chin ramped up the beats per minute of her heart.

“Is it so bad?” His hand returned to her waist.

She smiled, staring into his teasing gray eyes. Bringing her arms up, she tentatively encircled his shoulders.

“I went back up to alert Cline so he could get the cops rolling and intercept King before he made his getaway. He’s probably being handcuffed right now.”

“And you came back down…” She held her breath with her thought. He didn’t have to come back, to get locked in the vault with her.

“I went back up for another reason besides speaking to Cline. There was something I needed to get.” One hand fell from her and slipped into his jacket pocket. He smiled, winked, and lifted a sprig of mistletoe over their heads. “I couldn’t let King’s kiss be the last you remember from tonight.” He held her closer. “I’ve wanted to do this for ages.” His lips touched hers then retreated, as if asking her permission.

Reaching, walking her fingertips up the back of his neck, she laced them together. His breath was moist, tinged with the scent of chocolate and brandy. “Just what are your intentions?”

“May I kiss you, Eleanor?”

“Oh, yes, Roman, Jack Roman.” 

I hope you enjoyed my contribution to Mistletoe Magic. For information and buy links for my books, check out my Website. Tomorrow, you'll be treated to another story of Mistletoe Magic from Rolynn Anderson. Have a merry Christmas and a happy New Year!

Love in the Vault Part Three by Brenda Whiteside

Part Three

“That’s a good girl.” With one hand, Harold gripped Eleanor’s wrists while he pivoted enough to set the gun on the table. After wrapping her wrists in rope, he knelt in front of her and did the same with her ankles.

She held her breath as his hands manipulated her legs and feet, but he seemed intent solely on subduing her and getting back to the robbery.

“What you don’t know about is the part of the business Cline conducts on his own.” Harold stood next to the table surveying their tight surroundings.

The vault was the size of a roomy walk-in closet. The table could double for a freestanding butcher block in a kitchen. The L-shaped bench she sat on shared the walls with the door and the other wall to her right along with two ancient, wooden, filing cabinets. Cardboard boxes that looked as if they dated back as far as the filing cabinets and a three-foot-by-three-foot portrait of a man who looked like Mr. Cline occupied the wall to the left of the door. The fourth wall was shelving with various sizes of the type of metal boxes found in bank vaults.

Harold moved to the shelves. “The asshole is going to feel a pinch come Monday.” His remark seemed to be made to himself. He started pulling boxes, peeking inside, and either returning them or setting them on the wooden table. Three large and one smaller one met his approval.

Eleanor leaned against the wall with her shoulders, wiggled her fingers for circulation, and attempted to even her breathing. As Harold opened the first box and transferred banded currency to the canvas bag, she swore she heard a quiet swooshing noise. Straining her ears for any sounds outside the safe, she held her breath. Someone to rescue her? Foolish. A fantasy.

When her captor opened the second bank box and transferred more banded bills to his bag, she sat up straighter. The quiet gasp that escaped caught his attention.

“Oh, yes. I told you your boss has a lot more going than you or anyone else knows about.” He shoved the second container aside and emptied the third. “I left the fourth one full. And the one with the checks, of course. After all, he’ll need to make his deposit on Monday.” He laughed. “But the best is yet to come.” Lifting the small box in a movement to dump the contents into the canvas, he paused. “You should see this.” He removed what looked like several plastic sandwich bags and stepped in front of her. With his fingers spread, palms up, the bags made a jumbled display of sparkling glass pieces.

“Are those…?” She swallowed, mesmerized by the colors and sizes.

“Precious, aren’t they? Diamonds, rubies, emeralds.” He clutched them all together and whipped around, leaving her with her mouth gaping open. “Just a little side business to compliment the legal, respectable jewelry company left to him by dear old Dad.” He nodded at the portrait on the wall. “The beauty of this theft is it’ll go unreported. The money and checks I’ve left behind are considerable, certainly enough for the biggest month of the year. And this.” He thumped the side of the bag. “This is unrecorded, mostly illegal, and would expose Cline and possibly his more discreet customers.” He shrugged his shoulders, and grinned his once charming, but now smarmy, smile. “Looks like it might be tough to make the yacht payment this month.”

Eleanor’s mind reeled. Mr. Cline certainly wasn’t what he seemed.

Harold zipped the bag.

Panic rose in her throat.

He lifted the canvas bag with both hands. “A just severance and holiday bonus. Merry Christmas, Harold King.”

As she opened her mouth to beg him not to leave her in this tomb, something sounded outside the vault. She froze. Nothing. Maybe it was the pulse of fear pounding in her head. Harold didn’t seem to notice. There. Again. Not really a sound, but…intuition? Someone else’s presence.

“Drop the bag.” Jack Roman’s command sent her heart to her throat.

But Harold was quick. He let go the money and snatched the gun in a fluid movement, whirling to face Jack standing in the doorway. “Well, well, if it isn’t the brawn of the company, coming to save the day.” His face hardened. “Back off, Roman.”

The air left Eleanor’s lungs. She thought she might faint. Jack would win in an even confrontation, but not against a gun. Oh god, would Harold shoot him?

Jack flicked what looked like a wink. Really, Eleanor! Now is not the time for wishful thinking.

“I can’t let you walk away, can I, King?”

“You don’t have a choice, unless you’d like to see how handy I am with my equalizer.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed as he seemed to consider his options. “Let Eleanor go, and we’ll address the situation.”

“You always did have a good sense of humor, Roman.” He reached behind him and with effort hefted the canvas from the table, the gun not wavering from his co-worker’s chest. “Have a seat. You can cozy up to little miss sweet ass.” His knuckles whitened with the grip on the gun. “It’s not a request.” He dipped his aim to Jack’s crotch. “I don’t have any qualms about maiming you, if you don’t do as I say.”

Jack’s full lips quirked upward, as he lowered onto the bench beside her, coming into contact from shoulder to knee. “Are you okay?” His gaze followed the gun, but his quiet question floated over her.

“Yes.” She could’ve scooted away, given him room, but she relaxed with the weight of his warmth and strength against her.

“Hey, you two look good together. Too bad there isn’t any mistletoe overhead.” Harold snickered as he paused in the doorway. “Goodbye. And I do mean goodbye. Oh, and Merry Christmas.” He backed out, the gun disappearing last.

Eleanor tensed, waiting for Jack to make his lunge. Surely he’d stop Harold from locking them in the vault. There must be something he could do. Do something, Roman, Jack Roman!

The heavy whoosh of the door and then click of the lock caused every muscle in her body to collapse with defeat, and she slumped against the wall. “Oh, no,” she whimpered.

Jack’s arm slipped behind her. “Here. Sit forward a little. Let me get you untied.”

“What are we going to do?”

He pulled the rope from her hands.

“How can we possibly spend the whole weekend in here?” She massaged her wrists then wrung her fingers as she glanced around their prison. When he didn’t answer, she tipped her head to look into his face. The slight smile that usually undid her curved his mouth. First he makes no effort to overtake Harold, now all he can do is smile? Some brawn.

He pushed the hair from her face, his fingers gliding over her cheek. “It’ll be okay.”

A shaky breath and the tentacles of fear closing around her chest neutralized the electric sensation of what seemed like a caress. “Okay?” But she’d had enough for one day of so-called high powered executives fooling her. She flicked the hair from the other side of her face before he could repeat the action. Even in the presence of the most gorgeous man in the company, the tight space and an obvious lack of air tightened her throat with panic. And all he could do was coo and smile. Anger simmered.

Please join me tomorrow for the final episode.

Love in the Vault Part Two by Brenda Whiteside

Part Two

Eleanor gasped. Harold wasn’t looking for a quiet corner to pick up where they’d left off under the mistletoe. He wanted access to the vault.

A vision of being locked away in the mammoth safe for the weekend, no water, no food, and no bathroom, brought renewed trembling to her knees. Pretending to stumble was easy as she lurched forward and grabbed at a handle on the last cabinet. With her other hand, she clutched the edge of the metal drawers and whirled to face him, putting the corner of the cabinet between them. He wouldn’t just take the money and let her go. She’d be locked up until Mr. Cline came for the funds to make Monday’s deposit.

Unfortunately, Harold was right about one thing. She did always go home alone. Who would notice she’d left the party?

 “Please, please reconsider what you’re doing.”

“What do you think I’m doing, Eleanor with the sweet ass?” Pulling her away from the filing cabinet, he drew her close.

“Money.” She gulped. His grasp wasn’t exactly rough, more like the hunk taking possession of the bare-chested beauty on the cover of an old-fashioned romance novel. She always did find those covers revolting. “You’re…you are after the money, right?”

“Mmmm…yes, that’s what I’m after, but, maybe you’d like to share in the wealth. I’ve seen you looking at me—with less than pure thoughts.” His deep blue eyes were partially veiled by thick lashes. The effect, meant to be purely sensual, sent shivers of another variety.

Her neck burned hot while her mouth went dry.

“I could be your Santa, baby. Put a little something in your stockings? Actually, it would be anything but little.”

“Oh,” she gasped, sure her face now glowed with heat.

His laugh rumbled deep. “Joking, Eleanor. Although, under better circumstances I wouldn’t mind finding out how your sweet ass looks in a string bikini, you’re not a likely companion for an escape to a faraway beach somewhere with a suitcase full of stolen goods.”

“You’re not the least bit funny.” She tried for bravado, but was met with a smirk.

He released her, reached between the last two filing cabinets, and brought out a canvas bag the size of a small suitcase.

 “It won’t work. Two people are required to enter the code.” Maybe he didn’t know she could open the vault alone. “Let me go, and I’ll forget this ever happened.”

“Any combination of you, Roman, and Cline right?” His sneer erased her hope for an out. “But there’s one bewitching hour a day when any one of you can unlock the door. You give me about as much credit as our asshole boss.” The gun jabbed hard, forcing her to turn and take the last few steps to the vault. “Okay, let’s get this business concluded. The magic hour is ticking away, and I have a plane waiting.”

 “Is a few thousand really worth the risk? You could go to prison for a very long time.”

“A few thousand?” The smirk on his face meant he knew more about the accounting than she hoped.

“Yes, you know most customers don’t deal in cash.” She continued her bluff, holding a glimmer of hope that he had only a vague idea of what the vault could hold in the company’s busiest month of the year.

“Nice try, babe. I’m guessing you don’t know the half of it.” He leaned his face close to her ear. “Fun and games are over. Open it. Now.” His growl sent shivers down her spine.

She had no idea what he meant, but the time had come to quit stalling. With a shaky hand, she tapped the code into the digital lock. The click, signaling the release, punched the quiet, stuffy air.

Harold pulled Eleanor inside the vault. “Have a seat, sweet ass.” He nudged her onto the L-shaped, leather bench to her right.

She collapsed into the corner, facing toward the far wall.

 “I think you’re going to enjoy the show. My guess is you haven’t spent much time in Cline’s safe.”

“You have?”

“Not physically. Although, I was privy to the original general outline for the company.” He set the canvas on the table in the center of the room, unbuckled the leather straps, and unzipped the bag. “Cline and I go way back. To college. He knew he’d take over the business from his father and run it differently than old dad. I was with him from the beginning. Then he got greedy. He decided he needed another man to be his second—someone who didn’t know as much about his roots.”

Roman, Jack Roman.

He withdrew two lengths of rope from the bag.

“Oh.” Tied up. Left in the vault. Oh god, she’d die. “Please, Harold. I won’t move. You don’t need to tie me up.”

“Put your hands behind your back.”

“Harold—”

He stuck the gun in her face. “I’m really serious here. If you’re lucky I won’t kill you, but how would you like a bullet somewhere that would incapacitate you. I can’t have you getting a sudden brave urge to stop me.” He brought his face close to hers. “I see a little hint of rebellion in those pretty hazel eyes of yours.”

Her heart hammered, and she swallowed deep. Wordlessly, she turned on the bench, hands behind her back.

Join me tomorrow for Part Three.