Free Jack Stone - Deadly Revenge by Vivien Sparx Page B

and then Celia went back to her room to shower and change. Stone switched on the television in his room for background noise and fetched the sports coat from the second bag of purchases Celia had made. He tried it on. It was black – a good fit across the shoulders and sleeves, but maybe a little snug in the back. It would do. He left it unbuttoned over the top of his white t-shirt and spent twenty minutes cleaning his boots.
    Celia knocked on his door at 8pm. Stone leaned against the doorframe, his muscled arms folded across his chest. His gaze swept approvingly down her body, studying her from head to toe. Her hair was brushed out, loose over her shoulders, and her makeup had been applied with such skill that she seemed to be wearing none at all. The collar was around her throat. She was wearing a black lace bra, the cups cut low and the fabric sheer so that her nipples showed as intriguing dark shadows and the soft silky flesh of her breasts bulged in two smooth mounds of cleavage. She wore no top.
    A short black skirt hugged her narrow waist, cut at mid-thigh, so that the fasteners of her suspenders showed below the hem where they clipped to sheer black stockings.
    Her shoes were black, the heel high. She turned around for his inspection and he nodded approvingly.
    Stone rolled the leash up and stuffed it into one of his coat pockets. Downstairs, Celia handed him the keys to the Lexu s and he slid behind the wheel. The interior smelled of perfume. There were less than a thousand miles on the clock. It was practically brand new. The dash was a mass of consoles and buttons and lights. He started the motor and let the big luxury car idle for a moment.
    “We only get one chance at this,” Stone said. “If we get inside, stay in character, no matter what happens.”
    Celia nodded. She was nervous. Stone could see it in the way she clasped her hands tightly in her lap.
    He drove past The Cage slowly. There was a man standing on the sidewalk outside the d oor. He was a big man. Stone drove all the way to the end of the road and made a U-turn. He parked up about a hundred feet away from the club, on the same side of the road. There were closer parking spaces. Stone had chosen this one deliberately. Celia glanced at him.
    “The show starts now,” he said. “There is a guy on the door. He’s going to be watching us as we approach. Hopefully, by the time we reach the club, he’ll be convinced we’re the real thing and we’ll have no troubles getting inside.”
    He killed the engine. Got out of the car and walked around the hood. Pulled open the passenger side door and leaned in to clip the leash onto Celia’s collar. She slid out of the car and stood perfectly still while Stone took a moment to look around like he had all the time in the world. Then, without even glancing at Celia, he stepped onto the sidewalk and headed towards the club. Celia followed obedient and silent, walking one pace behind Stone and on his left hand side, keeping in step, with her eyes down on the ground at her feet.
    They reached the door. Stone smiled at the security guard. He was built like a footballer carrying plenty of weight and muscle. The guy looked like he was in his mid-twenties. He had a small black earpiece taped to his left ear.
    The door was a massive solid structure, made of timber and braced with huge iron-band hinges. At waist height was an iron handle in the shape of a lion’s head with a ring between its teeth. Stone reached for the handle. The big guy stepped across his path and put a hand flat against his chest.
    “Not so fast,” the security guy said. There was a long desperate silence. Celia felt herself trembling. She held her breath and fought with every fiber of her being against the urge to look up into the guard’s face. Then she heard the guy make a noise like a friendly chuckle. “Opening the door is the only job I got,” the man said.
    She heard Stone laugh. Heard the guard laughing too. Then the door was