The Fool Ch. 04

"I think you'd be surprised at how much information the underground has on the association and the spate of thefts. It wasn't hard to find any of that information, though confirming it was more than a little difficult," she admitted.

"Regardless, the Fool seems not to have put that information out there themselves," he said thoughtfully. "They only strike one day a year, and no other notable thefts seem to have the same trademark, absence of any evidence or a calling card. Shit, if I found the Fool I would give them the Heart of the Heartless just to know why?"

"Why what?" Carrie asked, trying to sound interested instead of curiously excited by what he was saying.

"Why that day? Why are they targeting the association? Why only steal one specialised thing that had sentimental value rather than infinitely more valuable items that were at hand," he sighed. "No matter how much I think about it I just don't get the motivation for it. I'd give just about anything to know the whys, including the Heart of the Heartless."

"Maybe I could help. Sometimes a fresh set of eyes on documentation can see things you may have automatically dismissed. I have to admit, I am curious about someone you consider to be a better thief than you," she offered.

"You know you're still the prime subject, so I don't think that's a good idea at all," he grinned. Then he rolled over the top of her and pinned her hands above her head. "Give yourself to me willingly, no challenge, no struggle for dominance, just give yourself completely over to me and this relationship for the rest of this week. Show me that we could be equals who trust and respect each other, rather than having to constantly battle the suspicions and doubt that stop us dropping our guard completely, and I'll let you view the crime scene information for the thefts and any clues we've gathered." He bent his head to kiss her, knowing what he offered would be exactly what he wanted if he were the Fool.

Carrie didn't answer, but rather kissed him back and relaxed under his gentle kisses and the softer movements of his hands over her body. For the first time in their relationship they made love. Their voices rose in whimpers, moans and cries laced with mild pain as their bodies melded and moved as if in a slow, delicious dance. There was none of the urgency and power play that had been such a big part of their coupling up until this point. Rather, they both gave and received, and, while Carrie was able to express her wants and desires, Sinclair gave up none of the advantages he had won over her every time he had asserted his dominance in the past.

Carrie came time and time again as Sinclair played her body like a well-tuned instrument, her pussy finally feeling the exquisite pleasure of his cock. She, in turn, gave him one of the best slow, gentle fucks he'd experienced in a very long time, and they fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms.

*****

"She's what?" Sinclair was stunned.

"Look, you can't tell her I told you. I would never have considered this job if you weren't on board," Jordan said conspiratorially.

"Honestly, she's afraid of heights?" Sinclair asked.

"No that's not what I said," Jordan said, running his hand through his hair. "She could trek up a mountain on a well-worn path or jog up twenty flights of stairs to get to a roof, but she won't climb it or repel it. She's afraid of falling, so she doesn't climb. She once walked through a sewer for three hours to avoid climbing to a third-floor balcony to gain access to a residence we needed to get into."

"Seriously?" Sinclair questioned, watching the door for Carrie's entrance. "Okay, but she won't be happy looking on from the sidelines. We'll need an extra week for training."

"It's a pretty tight window, you'd have a few days, at best," Jordan said. "Otherwise we'll have to pass on it."

"Pass on what?" Carrie asked walking into the room.

"Good, you're back. How'd it go at the doctor's?" Sinclair asked.

"Fine," she said as if confused by the question. "It's not like I was sick or anything."

"No, but it was still an injection. Personally, I hate needles and will avoid them if I can," Sinclair said. "We all have stuff we don't like. I also hate condoms, so we're all good?" He pressed.

"I already said it was fine!" she said irritably, and glanced at Jordan who didn't look pleased with the way the conversation was going. "So, what will we have to pass on?" She tried to change the subject, feeling unsettled.

"The job, it involves some climbing, and I need to brush up my skills. A little training is needed. I asked how much time we had because I'm thinking we could get away for a day or two to do some training," Sinclair said easily. His tentative friendship with Jordan hinged on being able to earn his trust, and he wasn't about to divulge what Jordan had told him about her weakness.

"Climbing?" Carrie looked at Jordan with wide eyes.

"I thought if Sin was on board he could do it and we would back him up. If he's not on board, we'll have to pass. If he needs to train, then the window is pretty tight, and we might have to pass anyway," Jordan explained.

"You told him, didn't you?" Carrie accused.

"It's a great job, we should take it, it pays really well this time, and we, or, at least, I could use the money. We don't all get to jet set around the world with Mr. too-good-to-be-true here," Jordan seemed to remember that Sinclair was sitting at the table with them and paused. "Look, sorry, man, it's just..."

"I've been called worse," Sinclair chuckled. "You want to do the climbing, then we need some training. Pack a bag for two days; we'll go tonight. You're welcome to come with us, Jordan," he offered. "It's not quite jet setting, but we will be taking the jet."

"Where are you going?" Jordan asked.

"Glasgow, to start with, and then to Loch Lomond," he said, though it was more a general direction than the specific destination he had in mind. "I need to make a few calls, and we'll grab some dinner on the way." Sinclair took charge, giving Carrie no time to think, let alone argue with him. He picked up his phone, taking advantaged of their stunned silence, and left the table, calling his pilot.

"Pass on the job," Carrie said without wanting to know what it was. "I have to go to work tomorrow, not go to Scotland." She stood and went to the bar to pour herself a drink.

"Just look the job over before you make a final decision," Jordan held out a manila folder and looked toward where Sinclair had exited the back door meaningfully.

"It won't matter. How could you tell him, Jordan?" Carrie sighed, propping herself against the bar. "How could that possibly do anyone any good?"

"Read the file," Jordan urged, throwing it on the table. "You'll understand why I said we'd consider it."

Taking the drink she just poured, Carrie walked back to the table and picked up the file. She trusted Jordan, and he rarely argued with her, so owed it to him to at least look at the file before passing on it.

"Alice?" she blinked, reading the name at the top of the first page. Jordan said nothing as she scanned through the pages. "Okay, I'm going to pack," she said, swallowing the last mouthful of her drink. "I feel like I'm in a never-ending revolving door."

"So, I'm forgiven?" Jordan asked as she went to walk from the room.

"No, not even close. There had to be a better way than telling him I hate to climb," she frowned. "I understand why, but there had to be a better way."

"Alice was like a second mother," Jordan said quietly, "To both of us. Even Robyn let down her guard when Alice was around."

Carrie nodded and went to pack. An hour later they were heading to the airport where Sinclair had organised the plane and a three-course meal from one of his favourite restaurants. By the time they reached Glasgow airport, it was late, and a car was waiting for them.

"Where are we staying?" Carrie asked as they left the airport. "I told Jordan I'd call and let him know."

"I've got a friend who lives up here. He's a climber, and the property's got lots of great rock formations, plus a few manmade ones," he turned and smiled at her in the dimly lit car interior. "Don't worry, his six-year-old daughter has mastered them all, with a little help from her eight-year-old brother."

"So it's not enough that I might fall and die up here, but I have to do it with the knowledge that I have been bested by a six-year-old. Thanks for that," Carries said acidly.

"It's too bad they're in Italy right now, or Sophia could have been your guide," he continued to chuckle, teasing her about her very obvious phobia.

"I have to say that you having friends with children is a surprise," Carrie ignored his jibe about the six-year-old guide and went on the attack in another direction.

"Why's that?" he frowned.

"Well," she said, grateful that his irritating chuckle had stopped. "You're vain enough to know you're considered good looking. You travel the world with a myriad of beautiful women, and men, for that matter, and, honestly, you don't seem to do anything of substance at any of your destinations. You're the quintessential playboy, or, at least that's the persona you show the world. You always look good for the cameras and you party a lot. Parents always seem a little more..."

"Settled?" He asked. "As in, settling down?"

"Sure, why not, settled works. I was thinking more responsible. Not into taking so many risks," Carrie qualified.

"To be fair, a lot of what I do is for my job. Like you going to Mile's party for your jobs -- both of them," he smirked.

"What is up with you?" Carrie noticed his constant glancing into the rear view mirror. She was irritated by the innuendo that she was the Fool again and seized on his continual checking of his rear vision mirror to chide him about it. It bothered her that there was no traffic for the last several kilometres, and she wasn't sure where they were going.

"There was another car a fair way back, but it seems to have gone now," he said easily, his eyes flashing up to the mirror. "Anyway, as I was saying, I wouldn't stop being friends with someone just because they settled down and chose to live differently from me. Besides, marriage and kids are just something I haven't gotten to yet."

"I wouldn't have thought you would intend to go down that road at all," she said sceptically.

"Sure I do, eventually. Don't you?" He asked, frowning at her.

"Are we being followed?" she asked, having slumped slightly in her seat so she could see out of the side mirror to the road behind them. "The business we're in can make you a little paranoid."

"What's the saying? Just because your paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you," he chuckled. "The occasional flicker of lights back there is gone, I'm pretty sure they turned off," he said in relief, his hands finally relaxing on the wheel as they came to the first of two sets of electric gates and punched in the number code.

The truth was that Sinclair spent a lot of his planning time avoiding dangerous situations in the jobs he did. He knew his strengths and his weaknesses, and, while he could deal with a physical threat in a man on man fight, he was against carrying weapons of any kind. For him, knives were for cooking and guns were for cops. The closest he had ever come to using a weapon was turning a security guard's own stun gun on him when he made an unscheduled patrol and almost ruined six months of planning.

"Why do they have so many no trespassing signs?" Carrie broke into his reverie. "Surely one or two is enough."

"You'd be surprised how many they have out here, especially as the family travels so much. When they are here they have a full security patrol in the grounds night and day," he explained.

"How come you don't have security?" she asked curiously.

"I have security at my homes. You've seen it," Sinclair said, confused by Carrie's question.

"You don't travel with it, though. I mean, you are famous, in a playboy sort of way," she gave him credit for his public persona. "Your family's worth a bazillion dollars, that must make you a target on its own."

"I don't want it or need it," he shrugged. "I've been travelling on my own for a while now. My parents made me have security when I was younger, but you try chatting up a princess from some small kingdom while two hulking men watch on and snigger. That type of scenario just about destroyed any ego I had back then. Not to mention the inconvenience of having them follow me when I would try to sneak away from a party to break into the host's office and steal fifty carats of gems that belonged to his ex-wife."

"I can see how that might be inconvenient in your line of work, and I guess you've proven that you can handle yourself in a fight if you have to," she agreed. "But you wander around the city like a normal person every day, you'd be pretty easy to kidnap and hold for ransom."

"I'm observant, I pay attention to what's going on around me, and, yes, I am pretty confident that I could look after myself if I had to," he said smugly. "I doubt I'd be that easy to kidnap."

"I'm a thief, and I could steal you, and no one would be the wiser, out here on a lonely country road by ourselves," she said teasingly.

"You could try, but I'd come pretty willingly," he chuckled. "We can do that tomorrow," he grinned at her. "What would I need to do to be released?"

"Make sure I don't fall to my death during this climb would be good to start with," she said a little too quickly.

"You don't have to kidnap me to ensure I will do that," he laughed a genuine throaty laugh.

They pulled up at the house and Sinclair led her inside to a ground floor guest room at the back of the house.

"Grab some active wear and we'll do a little warm-up tonight. We don't have much time here, so we may as well make the most of every moment," he said, opening his case and changing into some snug track pants and a soft T-shirt.

"Right now?" she asked, but followed his lead, thinking a warm up would be more akin to a gym work out because it was dark outside. She changed into some leggings and a matching sleeveless top and followed him back out of the room.

Sophia, the climbing savant, had a home that was the perfect playground for children. The back wall of the three-story house did double duty as a climbing wall, and a zip line ran from the balcony of the third floor to the rooftop deck of the pool house. A line dangled from the end of the zip line for quick decent to the ground. Sinclair handed her a harness, and she reticently took it before he could offer to help her put it on.

Two hours later, every muscle in Carrie's body ached from the amount of times she had tensed and almost frozen as she traversed the playground of little Sophia and her brother. Her teeth had clenched tightly, making her jaw ache, and she had bitten her tongue so many times to keep back the ever growing list of bribes she kept wanting to offer him but kept inside rather than tempt seeing that horrible smirk of satisfaction as she begged for mercy. She was a minute away from offering him anything if they could quit while she was still functional, when he offered her a bottle of water and smiled.

"Let's call it a night; we have a big day tomorrow. How are you feeling about climbing now?" he moved behind her and rubbed her stiff shoulders, as if seeing her have trouble relaxing them after reaching for the bottle.

Carrie laughed and took a sip of the water. It had taken every ounce of determination she possessed to climb the first smaller section of wall. She wasn't as dismayed by her inability to climb, and she felt better about not falling to her death during the experience, but she wasn't about to tell him that.

"What's so funny?" Sinclair asked with a frown.

"Nothing," she took a breath. "Maybe I'm just hysterical because I'm still in one piece."

"You're not dead. No falls. No scrapes. No bruises." His hands ran from her shoulders down over her body. "It's a pretty good one piece from where I'm standing," he murmured in her ear.

"You can't be serious!" Carrie groaned. "I can barely move and you're acting like that warm-up was foreplay." She stepped away from him. "It wasn't even a warm up! It was a full trial. I don't suppose they have a spa bath hidden in the guest bedroom?" she asked, walking toward the back door.

"That was a warm up. You're fit, probably even fitter than me, but you were so tense, that's why you're feeling so achy now. You didn't freeze up there, and that's better than you led me to believe with all your talk of dying," he added another positive to the experience. Following her into the house, he showed her where the bathroom was and turned on the faucet to fill the deep tub with steaming hot water. "Would you like a drink? It might help you relax?" he asked, seeing her grimace.

"Water in a glass would be good," she mumbled as she pulled the top over her head, feeling the muscles in her shoulders and back complaining. She finished undressing and stepped into the bath as Sinclair went to get her some water. She sighed deeply as the steaming water covered her body, and she lay there until the depth was high enough to start the jets.

"Thanks," she said, opening her eyes as Sinclair placed a glass behind her head and began to strip. "Having a shower?" she asked, not wanting to share the comfort of the bath.

"Nope, I'm going to be your pillow and make that bath even more relaxing," he said, helping her to sit forward as he climbed in behind her. Despite the awkward position, Sinclair kneaded the stiff muscles in her neck and shoulders gently.

Carrie leant back against Sinclair's chest and closed her eyes. She was beyond exhausted, and, if it weren't for the soothing water jets of the spa, she would have just gone to bed. 'Just ten more minutes,' she told herself, then she would go to bed. Carrie barely opened her eyes when Sinclair tried to rouse her some time later and carried her to bed.

*****

It hadn't been pretty or graceful, but Carrie had completed every task Sinclair had set her the following day. True, she had worn a harness and safety equipment, but that in itself hadn't calmed her fears. She'd hated slipping off into space, climbing over balconies or up and down lines and trusting her body not to fail her... but it hadn't.

"Huh. Maybe there's something to this partnership thing," Carrie said in relief as he helped her over the top edge of a rock formation and to her feet. She looked up into his face and smiled. The usually smooth and debonair demeanour seemed to have disappeared behind this boyish-looking man whose messy hair stood up at the front in sweat slicked spikes. He'd remained close to her, his arm still steadying her as he gazed back with serious eyes.

"It's not a partner thing; it's an I-make-you-feel-safe thing. It's okay to admit it. You don't have to be so tough and independent all of the time. You can feel free to show me some gratitude," Sinclair said in a low voice, but spoiled the effect by smirking at her, making her push his arm away.

"We're not done yet, I still have to get off this enormous rock without falling to my death," she sighed and looked around nervously. "How awful would you feel if I showed you my gratitude now and you had to scrape me from the bottom of this cliff?" she stepped a little closer to the edge.

"You could thank me now and thank me again when I get you safely down from this rock," he grumbled but the smile. "Then we can talk about you trying to kidnap me and what I have to do to negotiate my release." He walked out onto the stone outcropping that was shaped like a compass point showing the way back to the house.

"Remember, I don't steal for fun or profit, well... not profit. Someone else would have to kidnap you, then I could retrieve you," Carrie said, trying to keep her mind off the long descent to the ground. In her experience, it was the descent that was the most likely to kill her, especially if she fell back to earth.