Cleopatra's Necklace (Devlin Security Force Book 3) by Susan Vaughan Page A

opposites. She could keep a part of herself distant, so when they hurt her, the pain didn’t cut as deep. Oh great, she could analyze her issues but not fix herself. Dammit.
    Rubbing the goose bumps on her arms, she jerked away from the rail and hurried inside to the forward elevators. She didn’t want to think about any of this tonight. If the damn man bribed the reservations clerk to locate her, he could also find her stateroom.
    A few minutes later, she entered the darkened theater. Beyond the sloping rows of seats, the acrobats leaped about on the stage. Halfway down the aisle on the left, she spotted Deidre’s bright blond head. Safety. Escape. Perfect.
    When the two women saw her, they scooted over to give her the aisle seat.
    ”I thought you were too tired,” Stacy said, leaning across Deidre.
    “I felt better after I ate,” Cleo whispered.
    She crossed her legs and focused on the gyrating figures under the stage lights. The small troupe executed complicated dance-like formations and tumbling to music. Her heartbeat slowed, finally settling.
    Deidre elbowed her. She winked and jerked a nod toward Cleo’s right. “A hot somebody’s watching you.”
    A charge kicked her heart rate into high. Across the aisle, Thomas Devlin smiled at her.
    She frowned and mouthed, “ Go away.”
    He pointed toward the stage as if to say, “I’m only watching the show.”
    “Keeping him a secret, huh?” Deidre said.
    “I ran into him at Cuisine d’Argent. That’s all.”
    “Looks like he wants to run into you again, hon.”
    Stacy giggled. “And again.”
    “Enough,” Cleo shot back. “Not interested.”
    “Whoohoo, if I wasn’t happily married, I’d sure as hell be interested,” Deidre said.
    Face burning, Cleo focused straight ahead on the acrobats. Not on Deidre or Stacy. Some protection they were, with tongues practically hanging out.
    No wonder. Thomas was just as sexy as ever.
    More. Shoulders impossibly broad in his crisp white dress shirt. Intense and very, very male. A few silver hairs gleamed in his thick brown hair, its unruly nature controlled by an expert haircut. Same square jaw and sensual mouth. Same eagle-fierce dark-amber eyes and slashing black brows. Same take-charge arrogance that used to piss her off, but with the edges smoothed into power and confidence. Confidence that tempted her to lean on him, rely on him. Like he wanted.
    Not gonna happen. She was safe here, as Mimi.
    She’d left her feelings for him behind her, or so she’d thought. Hot? Yowza. She flashed chills and fever just sitting across the aisle from him. And if his gaze penetrated her reaction to him, he would use his knowledge to get what he wanted.
    He wasn’t finished trying to drag her back to Dad. To safety, he said, but the admiral hired him, didn’t he? Cut from the same cloth. The kind of man who would control you and steer you without you realizing until it was too late. If she gave in and let him take charge, she’d end up living under her dad’s thumb again, smothered, stifled, and stuffed into a box of his making.
    But Thomas was right. This criminal gang Centaur thought she knew the necklace’s hiding place. Or did they want to kill her? Either way, her prospects were grim. The cruise would end, and she’d have to run for her life. And hide again, but how? She knew zip about being on the run, being anonymous. Maybe if she could get far enough away, somewhere else in Europe, she could go to the police.
    No police. They’re everywhere. René’s words sent her reeling. Again.
    But of all people why did her dad have to send Thomas ?
    Everyone applauded and the lights came up. The show was over and she hadn’t seen any of the antics that wowed the audience. On stage the dozen or so brightly clad acrobats lined up taking their bows.
    She stood when her seat companions rose to leave. And Thomas. Her nerves sparked and leaped like the tumblers.
    His smile showed perfect white teeth. The better to bite you with,