Power Players Box Set- The Complete Series

by Cassia Leo

  I resist the urge to shake my head in dismay. “And what direction were you pointed in?” I ask, because I know he wants me to.

  He nods, clearly pleased that he’s gotten me to play his game. “I’ve spoken to a few people today who’ve… Well, let’s just say they’ve given me information I find to be credible. And we’re in the process of following up on that information.”

  Whoop-tee-fucking-doo.

  “Until we can find out whether or not it checks out,” Sooner says, leaning back in his chair, “we wanted to get you in here and ask you some questions. Hear it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak. You know what I’m saying?”

  Now he wants me to think I’m here because someone pointed him in my direction. The only two people who may have done that are Edie and her grandson, and I made sure to steer clear of them since the day I helped deliver Izzy’s mattress to her house. Anything they told investigators is hearsay or pure speculation.

  “I think I know what you’re saying,” I reply.

  What you’re saying is you’ve got nothing.

  “Good,” he replies, looking appeased that I seem to be cooperating with this new line of attack. “Good. Okay, so now that we’ve cleared that up, and you’ve been helpful today. Thank you for that. I’m going to ask you one more question: What do you think happened to Izzy?”

  I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I realize I’m not under arrest,” I begin, my eyes going back and forth from Sooner’s fat face and Stanley’s red mug. “I’ve had the right to end this interview at any point, but I’ve complied with your requests for information because I want to find Izzy as much as you do. But I’m only interested in dealing with facts. I’m afraid I have to respectfully draw the line at speculation.”

  Stanley lets out a loud guffaw. “Bunch of fucking horse-shit.”

  “I understand,” Sooner says, nodding. “Well, you’ve still been very helpful, and I do appreciate that, King. So I promise this is my last question to you. Because let’s be honest, this is looking pretty bad for you right now. So what I want to know is… What can I do to help you? What can I do to help take some of the heat off of you?”

  I can’t help but chuckle. “Thank you, sir, but I don’t need any help.”

  “That’s not the way I see it, but you’re entitled to your opinion,” Stanley butts in.

  “Well, in my opinion, you should be looking into Congressman Richard Hunt. In fact, I think you’ve already figured that out, and you’re just trying to find someone else to take the fall, which is why I took the liberty of sending some insurance to a few local and national journalists,” I remark without a trace of a smile. “You know, in the event that I don’t make it out of this room today.”

  Stanley chuckles. “That’s a fancy opinion.”

  I nod. “Yeah, and on that note, I guess I should head out. Unless you two have any more questions for me.”

  Sooner shakes his head as Stanley continues to smile.

  “We’re good for now,” Sooner replies, standing up and holding out his thick hand to shake. “Stay close by in case we need to chat again.”

  “Sure,” I reply, standing up and shaking his hand.

  Stanley makes no attempt to show me the same courtesy, so I head for the door, which Sooner is now holding open for me.

  It takes every ounce of self-control in my being not to say, “Sayonara, motherfucker.”

  I smile at all the disgusted looks cast in my direction as I strut down the corridor of the Burke County Sheriff’s Office. Hunt and these guys will get their goodbye letter from Izzy and me soon. Until then, I have a plane to catch.

  Driving away from the police station feels like shedding a ten-ton winter coat. But it’s not until I pull my pickup onto the tarmac at Foothills Regional Airport in Morganton that I can breathe again. I’m free.

  Free of the military. Free of my guilt for what happened to Garrett. Free from my obligation to Richard Hunt. Free to get the fuck out of North Carolina and never look back.

  The private jet we chartered for today’s trip is Gulfstream G650. As I climb the air-stair, I feel a sense of nostalgia as the hairs on my neck are lifted by a warm Carolina breeze. This will always be the place where Izzy and I fell in love. I may have to figure out a way to come back again once the heat has died down in about a decade.

  I step inside the plane and find Santos sitting on a tan leather sofa in an open seating area. He’s watching a muted television, which is bolted to a built-in TV stand in front of him. His face splits into a proud smile as he holds up something in his hand, which I suspect is a Costa Rican passport.

  “I’m Roberto Castro now,” he says, then he reaches into his breast pocket and tosses something to me.

  I react quickly, catching the object in the air just above my shoulder. “And your girlfriend?”

  “She’s already lying on a white-sand beach in Costa Rica sipping virgin margaritas.”

  I stare at the dark-blue booklet for a moment and smile. It’s my new Canadian passport. I will now officially be known as Ray Everett.

  Santos continues to smile as he nods at the television screen. The TV is still muted, but the news ticker rolling across the bottom reads: VIDEO APPEARS TO SHOW CONGRESSMAN RICHARD HUNT FREQUENTING UNDERAGE BROTHEL.

  “Appears to show,” I say, shaking my head. “Twenty-four-hour news cycle is going to gobble that shit up. Let’s just hope the prosecutors don’t fuck up the case. We gave it to them on a fucking platter.”

  “That’s all you and Izzy, bro,” Santos remarks proudly.

  I shake my head. “It was you, too. Costa Rica better get ready for Hurricane Roberto Castro.”

  He lets out a bellowing laugh, and I give him a one-armed hug before I head toward the back of the plane.

  When I arrive at the door leading to the bedroom, I hesitate with my hand on the knob. I’m scared of what I’ll find when I step inside.

  I’m the one who allowed Izzy to be a part of yesterday’s operation. Watching her get shot and fall into that ditch was like getting hit by that IED all over again.

  Everything that happened to Izzy yesterday was my fault. I accept full responsibility. I just hope she’s better off than she was when I left for the police station this morning.

  Pulling the door open, I find Izzy in bed with the physician I hired seated at her side. I smile at the sight of Steve lying on the floor at the foot of the bed, but my eyes widen at the lack of intravenous fluids, which she was attached to this morning before I left for the station. No more saline or morphine drip.

  The doctor smiles and flashes me a thumbs up.

  I let out a sigh of relief as I decide to leave the room without waking her, but I’m unsuccessful. Her eyelids flutter open, and the doctor takes this as his cue to squeeze past me on the way out.

  Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, I lean over and plant a lingering kiss on her lips. “I sure have missed you,” I murmur.

  “I missed you, too,” she says, her voice still hoarse.

  I brush my thumb across her rosy cheek. “You got the color back in your beautiful face. How’s your arm?”

  She glances at the cast on her left arm. “Barely grazed the bone and completely missed the artery. I’m going to live.”

  “Are you in a lot of pain? Do you want me to ask him to give you some more morphine?”

  She shakes her head adamantly and winces a bit. “Still have a bit of a headache from the blood loss, but I don’t want any more pain meds. That shit felt too good.”

  I chuckle to detract from the dark meaning behind her words. “No more morphine. Do you need anything?”

  “Just you,” she replies with a smile. “Did they ask you a lot of questions?”

  I nod. “About a million and one. Tried to catch me in a lie, but I don’t think they were successful,” I reply, brushing her brown hair away from her face. “And now that I’m here with you, I have just one question for you.”

  I need to give her one final op
portunity to turn around and never look back.

  “Shoot,” she replies eagerly.

  “Interesting choice of words,” I muse, soaking in her Kool-Aid grin as I retrieve a black diamond engagement ring from my jeans pocket. “You can still back out,” I begin, holding the ring up so she can see it clearly. “Pretend I abducted you and forced you to do all sorts of unsavory things. It’s not too late for you to become Izzy Lake again. Are you sure you want to do this? Are you sure you want to become Mrs. Ray Everett?”

  She smiles as she nods toward the small shelf on the wall, which serves as a bedside table. I pick up the Canadian passport and flip to the first page to see a picture of Izzy with her new red hair. The name inside reads: Everett, Hayley.

  She shrugs as I shake my head. “If you get to be named after Ray LaMontagne, I get to be named after Hayley Williams from Paramore.”

  I lean down to kiss her, but she pushes me away and clears her throat as she glances at the ring in my hand.

  I laugh as I slide it on her finger. “Are you ready to spend the rest of your days singing me to sleep with that angel voice?”

  She grins as she stares at the black diamond for a moment. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life. In fact, I think I should start now.” She pats the mattress next to her. “Lie with me.”

  I can’t shake the stupid grin off my face as I carefully climb onto the bed and lie on my side facing Izzy. “Don’t sing if your throat still hurts.”

  She waves off my warning. “It’ll make me sound even better,” she says, as she carefully rolls onto her good arm to face me. “This one is called ‘King of My Heart.’”

  I smile as I brush the backs of my fingers across her soft cheek. “My queen.”

  THE END

  CHASE

  About Chase

  Larissa Jacobs' financial debt is climbing after a failed attempt at becoming the next big thing in Hollywood. After losing her job as a children's party entertainer, Larissa's roommate gets her a temp job. Her new boss is Senator Chase Underwood: hot, married, and the current presidential candidate.

  But Chase's penchant for domination in the workplace threatens his prospects of world domination. When Larissa's affair with Chase erupts in scandal, Larissa finds herself being used as a pawn in Chase's bid for the presidency.

  Will Larissa remain true to her promise to wait for Chase until the scandal has blown over? Will Chase put his love for Larissa before his career?

  Part 1

  Chapter 1

  Money will make a person do crazy things; like standing in front of a hotel waiting to be picked up for your first job as a professional escort.

  As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t blame my roommate for this new gig. Shane Meadows introduced me to Black Tie Escorts after I lost my part-time job as a children’s party clown three weeks ago. Shane was one of the most handsome guys I’d ever laid eyes on. When I answered the roommate-wanted ad in the L.A. Times and showed up to find Shane standing in the center of a tiny but gorgeous artists’ loft, I thought I’d finally hit the big time. Shane turned out to be gay, dashing any hope of fulfilling all the hot fantasies I’d been casting him in. And two years later, I still hadn’t gotten my big break in Hollywood.

  Midnight in August was the perfect time to stand outside a hotel on Wilshire Avenue. The breeze lifted the stray hairs near my temples, tickling my skin and sending shivers down my arms. The downtown lights sparkled and leaped off the brass trash bins, the gleaming taxi, and the glass entrance doors behind me. The lights were dizzying and comforting at once. Even though the city could be harsh, it had become my home ever since my parents decided that chasing my foolish dreams was cause for disownment.

  “Miss Jacobs?” an elderly voice called softly from behind me. Harry, the doorman, ambled toward me holding out a folded piece of paper in his wrinkled hand. “A gentleman called and had this message for you.”

  My first thought as I reached for the note was that whoever the service set me up with had probably driven by the hotel and changed his mind when he saw me. He definitely would have found me attractive. I’d never had a problem securing modeling gigs for print and online work. However, I was not runway material. Maybe this guy, who would be paying $5,000 for one night with me, was looking to get a bit more for his money.

  I unfolded the note and read two words: NORTH ENTRANCE.

  When I looked up, Harry was almost back at his station near the front entrance. He turned to face me again and nodded to his right, north. I smiled my thanks and set off toward the hotel’s side entrance. I had only known Harry for thirty minutes, but he had already shown me ten times more kindness than my new boss, Jessica Broom, at Black Tie Escorts.

  Jessica was twenty-seven, just three years older than I was, and she already owned her own escort service. How she managed this, I didn’t know, and I was pretty sure I was not allowed to ask.

  I rounded the corner of the hotel into a narrow roadway leading toward an underground parking structure. A black Lincoln Town Car sat parked in the center of the narrow road, lights on and engine idling. I suddenly became hyperaware of my surroundings. The moths flitting around the security lights. The smell of Chinese food wafting over the fence from the restaurant next door. The fluttering nervousness in my belly and the pulsating sensation in my crotch.

  As nervous as I had been anticipating this moment all day long, a part of me was excited. Jessica claimed this client requested me specifically because it was my first time. She didn’t say he picked me because of my ravishing beauty, which was a bit disappointing. The fact that he chose me at all was enough to pique my interest and had me fantasizing all day about possible candidates. Was he a famous actor, a politician, or a film director who would insist on giving me my first big role?

  Jessica only dealt with high-profile clients. She claimed this client was as high profile as it got.

  The driver stared straight ahead as if I didn’t exist. As I approached, the back door swung open. I approached slowly until I could see into the cabin. All I could glimpse was a pair of gray slacks and black wingtips.

  “Have you worked for any other escort services or is this your first time?” a smooth voice asked. I couldn’t see him through the veiled darkness inside the car, but his voice sounded familiar, as if I had just heard it today on the television.

  I didn’t know if answering with the truth would make him doubt me, but I figured if he wanted a pro he would have chosen one of the other girls. “This is my first time,” I replied.

  “Come inside.”

  I stepped into the backseat and my breath caught in my throat. My first client was Senator Chase Underwood.

  Presidential candidate Chase Underwood. The gorgeous thirty-nine-year-old playboy who just settled down with his new wife last year.

  His gaze glided over me, taking in every inch of my black dress and nude heels.

  “Shut the door,” he commanded, his voice gentle but confident.

  I turned around to pull the door closed; and when I turned back, his face was inches from mine. His hand slid over my knee, up my thigh, until his warm hand reached the crotch of my silk panties.

  “Larissa? Is that your name?” he whispered in my ear, as his fingers gripped the crotch seam of my panties and yanked down, the wetness leaving a trail on my leg before he flung them aside.

  “Yes,” I breathed, as his mouth closed over my collarbone and the car began to move forward.

  “I’ve been waiting for this all day,” he said, before his lips crushed mine in a kiss both tender and assertive.

  His hard length pressed against my hip as he pulled me onto his lap and slipped his hand between my legs. A shudder passed through me as his fingers slid between my wet folds and inside me.

  “I knew as soon as Jessica showed me your picture that I had to have you,” he whispered, as his tongue flicked in and out of my ear.

  I could feel myself becoming engorged with pleasure as he slid his fingers out of me an
d gently stroked my clit using my own nectar.

  I can’t believe I’m about to have sex with Chase Underwood! And I’m getting paid for it!

  My pelvis writhed and grinded against his touch as his lips explored the curve of my jaw. My limbs filled with so much pleasure my entire body quaked. He kissed my throat and tickled my nub until my body released a final shudder. I fell limp against the leather seat and he sat upright looking very pleased with himself. He lifted my black panties off the floor of the car and held them out to me. My arm wobbled as I reached for them, but he pulled them back at the last second and held them to his nose.

  “Mmm… Like an autumn pear,” he said with a grin, then he handed them over. They were soaked with my juices so I stuffed them into my purse. “Where do you live?”

  That’s it? For $5,000?

  Jessica specifically told me I wasn’t allowed to give clients my home address and definitely was not supposed to go home with them, for safety purposes. I wasn’t sure if these rules applied to Chase Underwood, so I decided to take a chance. He was either so dissatisfied with me he wanted to get me out of his car or the night wasn’t over yet. I was hoping it was the latter.

  “355 Warren… apartment 4,” I breathed, as I attempted to sit upright and check my hair in my hand mirror.

  My hands shook as I steadied the mirror in my hands. Many lonely, dry months had passed since I’d been touched like that by anyone other than myself. Hanging out with Shane for two years had not done wonders for my sex life. I had to lie about this to Jessica during my interview. I actually told her I had been in an open sexual relationship up until last month. Shane gave me pointers on what to say.

  I could feel Chase staring at me as I slipped the mirror into my purse. My stomach was in knots wondering whether I had blown this, my only chance to conquer my ever-growing mountain of school loans and credit-card debt. My only chance to be fucked by a man—a sexy, powerful man—in almost six months.