Spice Box: Sixteen Steamy Stories

by Raine Miller

  All he’d ever wanted was for me to be happy. Yet at every turn I was put at risk, if not from him and Lia in the course of our intimacy, then by Lia’s deviousness. He wanted so badly to see me smile again. He’d do anything to see me smile. I hadn’t smiled at him in two months.

  I felt his righteous fury at what had been done to me. He wished he could kill Lia a thousand times over to find an outlet for his murderous rage. He hated the fact that not only had she almost killed me, but she succeeded in ruining all that was once good between us. I had based so many of my erroneous assumptions on Lia’s lies. She didn’t kill me, but she killed my love for him.

  He’d been in such a rage that night. He tracked down Arana, found him in a hospital emergency room. Enrique snuck into Arana’s room and fed from him till his heart stopped. No amount of CPR could bring him back. His body was three pints shy of the necessary blood to keep his heart pumping. Francisco Lopez died at the age of thirty three, of a heart attack, and no one had a clue it was actually a homicide.

  I hadn’t known what happened to Arana. I had hoped to forget him. Enrique never told me. I didn’t hear it in the news, the event passed over, an unremarkable death. To ensure the situation remained undiscovered, Enrique bribed Conchita with thirty thousand to keep her silent about what she’d seen. It floored me to learn all this shocking news in a span of seconds. He had to hold me up as my knees gave out.

  The strong pressure of his arms around me sunk my telepathy in deep. There underneath all the turmoil, all the shocking revelations, was the underlying truth. The reason he feared losing me, the reason he worked so tirelessly to regain my favor. He loved me. He had loved me since our first night together when I lay naked in his arms, entrusting my life to his protection.

  It was the single most powerful emotion coursing through him as he supported my weight in his arms. Love. He loved me with all his heart and soul. He was so proud of me for all that I’d been through, all that I’d accomplished, all that I’d become. In spite of all my flaws and his numerous fears, he loved me. There could be no denying it. We were both in love.

  Sublime joy brought tears to my eyes. It was the most wonderful thing in the world to be loved so completely, better than sex, better than being bitten over and over. He loved me, Esperanza Salvación.

  As I kissed him and told him how much I loved him over and over it occurred to me that maybe my name wasn’t a mistake after all. My mother knew exactly what she was doing when she named me. No matter what happens, no matter how bad things get, as long as we have love, there’s always hope for salvation.

  ***

  THE END

  If you enjoyed this story you can connect with Travis on his website or subscribe to his newsletter to hear about new releases. Other books by Travis are available.

  Turn the page to read Red Tape by Kathy Kulig or return to the TABLE OF CONTENTS.

  Red Tape by Kathy Kulig

  BONDAGE IN THE WHITE HOUSE

  Handpicked for an underground White House society, Jason Merritt and Zoe Summers are assigned to take down a sadistic leader through the use of blackmail, coercion and sex. Former CIA agent Jason must train his ex-lover for her role as a submissive in a dangerous BDSM sex tape project. Distracted by their tortured past, he’s unprepared for their reignited passion or his overwhelming need to protect her, possess her and do whatever it takes to make her his.

  HE WANTS TO MAKE HER HIS SLAVE

  Tough and tenacious Zoe Summers has tried to forget her former field partner and lover. She hasn’t forgiven Jason, or herself, for their failed missions. The BDSM training sessions with Jason stir up deep yearnings and sparks fly. She’s obsessed into exploring this realm of her sexuality, but worried it will undermine both their relationship and their project. Danger escalates when their target discovers the plan and devises one of his own. Now the two must fight and choose between life, love and National Security.

  Sensual, dangerous, adrenaline-pumping…

  Turn the page for Red Tape or return to the TABLE OF CONTENTS to choose another book.

  CHAPTER 1

  Jason Merritt swung his racket hard, but missed another easy shot off the back wall. The racquetball bounced past him. Fuck. Two points down, with an audience, and he was losing to a man twenty years older.

  “Have you talked to Zoe yet?” his opponent asked.

  “Not yet, and when she finds out I recommended her, she better not have a loaded gun.” Jason’s gut clenched as he considered that conversation. He’d tried calling her two nights ago, right after she started her new job, but had gotten her voice mail. His opponent hit a driving serve. Jason swung again and missed. “Fuck.”

  “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were letting me win.” The older man glanced sideways at Jason.

  “Sorry, Mr. President.”

  President Douglas Bryson laughed. “Not to worry. When do you plan to call her?”

  Three Secret Service agents peered through the Plexiglas partition like frozen automatons. They couldn’t hear their conversation, and no one else was in the swanky health club. Once a week, the president reserved the entire club for his private use. The silence descended into a surreal Stephen King novel.

  “I haven’t talked to her since our last mission more than six months ago. I thought I’d let her get settled into her new position first.”

  The president nodded. “Make it soon. We need her brought up to speed.”

  He failed miserably in his attempt to smile. On the other side of the partition, the Secret Service guards held their robot expressions.

  The president patted Jason’s shoulder. “We already had her in mind. Zoe’s the perfect type. Blond, attractive, physically fit, top-level clearance and trained for undercover work. We used you as a reference since you worked with her at Langley. Tell her that.”

  Jason nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Your past relationship won’t interfere with this project.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “No, sir, Mr. President. We’ve worked on missions together before. She was trained for intelligence gathering, not this.”

  “I’m aware of your other missions. It’s a role like any other undercover work,” President Bryson added, locking eyes with Jason. “Get her briefed. Celia was one fuck-up too many. This operation needs Zoe.”

  If Bryson knew everything about their last mission, would he have selected her? Or was the organization that desperate?

  The president checked his watch. “One o’clock and I have an early meeting. Our games may have to be postponed until after the peace talks. You have a busy day, too.”

  “I’ll get on it.” He couldn’t afford another screw-up.

  ***

  Zoe Summers retied her scarf for the third time, then checked in the hand mirror she kept in her desk to make sure it covered the scar. She had another hour of work to do and desperately needed coffee. As late as it was, there might be a few White House staff left. She hated when people stared at her neck, hated it even more when she had to make up some lie instead of explaining that a mission went horribly wrong. Pity she didn’t need. What she needed was to forget and end the nightmares.

  She dug an armful of manila folders out of the old, metal file cabinet and tossed them onto her desk. The last batch before she’d head home. This was an honor, not Langley’s way to avoid outright firing her. Secret documents, archiving, filing. This was not the drudgery that would crush the living soul out of her body and damn her to file-clerk hell.

  She leaned back in the desk chair, gazing around at the dusty, basement office surrounded by a dozen filing cabinets. There were always rumors and conspiracy theories by people who had too much time on their hands. She’d escaped one lead-lined dungeon for another, but White House or not, suspicious activity or not, this felt like a demotion. She should have been out in the field, interacting with terrorists, transporting sensitive documents, carrying a gun, not moving papers.

  Rubbing her temples, Zoe glanc
ed at the clock on her desk. Ten p.m. Coffee. The door to the hall was open a crack to ensure the guard would check in on her during his rounds. It was best he get to know her since she planned on working a lot of late nights. Maybe if she exceeded expectations and did a really good filing job, they’d move her on to bigger projects.

  Even for a basement, she was surprised by the amount of after-hours activity. A group of people came downstairs, entered one of the rooms, then left after an hour or two. It had happened the night before, too. She was never able to see who they were, but couldn’t help feeling paranoid after what the Big D had told her. He’d heard rumors and suspected something was terribly wrong at the White House but gave no specifics. The lack of security cameras on her level seemed odd when there were plenty on the upper levels.

  Taking her cell phone out, she listened to Jason’s message again. The message was three days old. After several playbacks, she still hadn’t decided whether to call him back.

  She yanked open the drawer of her desk to lock the files away while she went upstairs. The drawer slipped off its track and jammed.

  Crap. Banging it with the heel of her hand, she pulled the drawer free and placed it on the floor. She checked inside for papers that had fallen behind. Lying on the floor inside the desk was an employee ID badge with two keys attached and another key ring with a set of five keys.

  Turning the badge over in her hand, she examined a red piece of tape dangling off one of the keys like a one-inch flag. Nothing was written on it. The photo on the badge was of a young blond woman in her late twenties with a pretty smile. The woman could’ve been Zoe’s sister if she had one. Celia Aldridge, Researcher.

  Had the previous worker lost the badge and keys or had they been left behind? She turned the badge over and studied it closely. A six-digit number was scribbled in faded marker. Zoe pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. People who couldn’t remember PINs or key codes sometimes wrote them in inappropriate places. Even intelligence agents, men mostly, were known to use 36-24-36 as a pass code.

  Did this woman get promoted? Transferred? Did she quit or get fired? Normally when an employee left, security destroyed the ID badge. Who was she, and why had she left? Maybe she worked in another department and Zoe could return the badge. Sitting at her computer, she typed in Celia Aldridge’s name to do a search, her finger hovering over the ENTER key. She wasn’t at Langley. Anything she typed in on the White House computer could be traced by the IT guys. Frank Phillips in security had warned her about unofficial use of the computers. She could be violating a confidentiality rule. She deleted her entry.

  “Zoe, you still here?”

  Zoe cried out, palming the woman’s badge and slipping it into her blouse. As she rose, she tugged on her scarf. “God, Melissa, I didn’t hear you come down.”

  Melissa Tadeshi, assistant to the press secretary, stood in her doorway. “I was going to leave this under your door. It’s tomorrow’s schedule.” Melissa held up an interoffice envelope. “You’re leaving now, aren’t you?”

  “I had a little more work to do. I was going for coffee.” Zoe took the envelope, dropped it on her desk and gestured Melissa inside. “I thought you left hours ago. Is Julia still here?”

  Melissa rolled her eyes. “Long gone. What work? We finished our training today. Want to go for a drink?”

  “No, thanks. I’m trying to make a dent and make this office livable. I guess housekeeping doesn’t clean this room. It doesn’t look like it’s been dusted since the Kennedy administration.” Considering the late hour, Melissa still looked gorgeous and professional, like an Asian Victoria’s Secret model in her early thirties. Although Zoe thought Melissa pushed her professional attire to the limit for the White House. She’d wear heels a bit too high, skirts a little too short and blouses cut way too low, but no one seemed to mind. Her long, black hair was fastened neatly with a simple clip, and even her makeup looked fresh. Other than making sure her scarf covered her scar, Zoe hadn’t checked her appearance in six hours. She hated to think what she looked like. “Besides delivering tomorrow’s schedule, why are you here late?”

  “We finished up a few meetings over an hour ago. I was doing some prep work. The president’s meeting with a number of foreign reps, so expect another crazy early morning.”

  Zoe inched toward the door, expecting Melissa to follow.

  Melissa looked inside the office and noticed the drawer on the floor. “Do you need help with that?”

  Zoe hesitated for a second. “No, just cleaning out the desk.”

  “How’s everything going?”

  “Good. It’s not hard work. I’m surprised they just didn’t hire a college intern for this. My old boss said someone at the White House recommended me for the position. Did you know about that?”

  Melissa glanced at the stack of files on Zoe’s desk. “Probably because you had top-secret clearance working in the CIA.”

  “Any clerk can get a security clearance.” Zoe didn’t mean to sound so cynical.

  “Security threats are always a concern. You of all people should know that,” Melissa said, very serious now.

  The hairs went up on the back of Zoe’s neck. “You’re right.”

  “Don’t ever let your guard down.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful to be here. But when I was hired, I expected it was for something more exciting than filing.”

  Melissa smiled, back to her pleasant mood. “Give it time. Trust me, working here is never dull. The White House wouldn’t have hired you unless they had a reason and needed your expertise. They need people they can trust above all.”

  “I can be trusted,” Zoe said, more to herself than Melissa. She stuffed the folders back into the file cabinet, got the drawer back on its track, and then closed and locked it.

  Melissa gave a small laugh. “Go home, girl. It’s late.”

  Home. Where silence and four walls only reminded her how long it’d been since she was on a mission? If she hung around, she could do an unsupervised tour. She held up her dust-smudged hands. “I need to wash up first.”

  Melissa groaned. “Hurry it up. The guards get twitchy when we stay too late.”

  “I won’t be long.” Zoe locked her office, but Melissa hadn’t moved to leave. “By the way, do you know who worked in here before me?” Zoe watched Melissa’s expression.

  Melissa’s mouth quirked slightly, a nervous gesture the average person wouldn’t notice. “I don’t know. She must’ve left before I got here.”

  “She?”

  Melissa huffed. “She…he…whatever. I don’t know. This office has been empty for a while.”

  “Does anyone else work down here? Meeting rooms?”

  Melissa frowned and narrowed her eyes. “It’s a basement. Nothing more than storage rooms, space for electrical, boiler, and mechanical equipment. Why?”

  “Just asking.” Zoe wasn’t going to mention the late-night visitors until she gathered more information. She didn’t want to sound like a paranoid idiot.

  The atmosphere chilled between them. “Look, I’m sorry,” Zoe said. “It’s too quiet down here. See you at lunch tomorrow?”

  Melissa smiled. “Sure.” She checked her phone, punched a few keys with her thumbs, then headed for the stairs. “See you tomorrow.”

  Zoe used the restroom and scrubbed her hands. When she strode out of the ladies’ room, she stopped in the hallway and contemplated the door at the end of the hall, holding Celia’s badge in her hand. The door had a key-swipe lock and keypad. Could it be this easy?

  ***

  “Anything you need me to do before the presentation?” Jason asked Julia. He wanted out of there, wanted to get to Zoe and tell her to resign before she learned anything about the program. At Langley, they may have parted on a sour note, but she would trust him this time. By not trusting her partner, she’d compromised their last mission and much worse. If he told her to leave, she would. Once she was briefed about Red Tape, it’d be too late.

 
; “No, we’re ready.” Julia’s nails clicked on the computer keyboard with enough force he expected to hear them snap. He shifted in the stiff Victorian chair in front of her desk. Waiting was torture. His cell buzzed at the exact moment Julia’s buzzed. The target had just left the hotel. Fuck. Julia glanced at him with an anxious look. He hated when a mission was starting off on the wrong foot. Already, this one was behind schedule, and everyone was on edge. Not good.

  Julia swore. “Where the hell is Melissa?” The petite woman got up and paced the carpeted room. The razor-cut ends of her red hair brushed the collar of her crisp business suit.

  “I’m sure she’ll be here shortly.” That wasn’t happening. The text he got said Zoe hadn’t left yet but would soon. Come on, Zoe. Just this once, leave something half-finished. Melissa couldn’t drag her out of there unless she hogtied her.

  His schedule as one of the first lady’s Secret Service agents was hectic, and he suspected it was about to get insane. Julia gave an impatient huff and checked her watch again for the hundredth time. “If she doesn’t come up soon…”

  “She will.” Jason stood and walked to the window, watching for the black cars that would arrive at the back entrance. If he had been in charge, it would never be going down like this.

  “After this presentation, we’ll schedule Zoe’s training.” Julia sighed. “We’re pressed for time.”

  “Zoe’s a professional. I won’t have a problem training her.”

  Julia’s smile wasn’t a friendly one. Her green eyes flashed rage and worry. “What makes you think you’ll be training her?” Her tone had a slight edge of condescension.

  He stuck his hands in his pockets to keep from clenching them. “For this program to work, wouldn’t she feel most comfortable with someone she knows well?” He took a breath, attempting to keep the conversation from breaking down into a shouting match.