by J. Kenner
Winston shakes his head. “You can’t kill him, Em. You know that. He has too much intel locked away in that head of his.”
“That’s why I need you to help me make my case. The guy’s too dangerous. He needs to be taken out.”
“Won’t happen, and you know it. It’s personal to you, and I get that. But the SOC—hell, every covert organization on the planet—is going to want him alive.”
“Then they all have a problem, because Antonio wants him dead. And he’s the frontrunner in the chase.”
“They’re going to want you to feed them the information when he finds out where The Serpent is.”
“Screw that. This guy did a hell of a lot more than work for Morgan. He’s bumped up against my life more than once, and he’s not exactly on your favorite person list either. I want him dead, not in a cage. And certainly not being turned and used.”
“Emma…”
“No.” I practically spit the word, because everything he is saying is true—but I don’t like a single syllable he’s spouting. “If Antonio kills him, it’s murder. But if I can get orders, then not only do I solve Antonio’s problem, I get the satisfaction of taking him out. Help me convince them The Serpent’s too risky to try to control. He needs to be dead.”
“They won’t go for it. For that matter, neither will Antonio. From what you’ve told me, he’ll want the satisfaction, whether the kill is technically murder or not.”
“Shit.” I start to drag my fingers through my hair, remember the wig, and stop. “Honestly, I wish I didn’t know any of this.”
“But you do. And one of the conditions of your discharge from the SOC, was that you’d report anything that came to your attention about an active investigation.”
“Yeah, yeah. Blah, blah. I know what I agreed to.” I release a heavy sigh. Winston is too much of a damn rule follower. Boded well in his role as sheriff, but right now, it’s pissing me off.
“This isn’t active, though,” I argue, albeit lamely. “The Serpent is a cold case as far as the SOC is concerned. Yeah, they want him. But they’re not actively looking. Like me, they figured the odds were he was dead or so deep he’d never surface.”
“You’re splitting hairs,” Winston says. “Just talk to Seagrave, but leave me out of it. The worst he can do is say no.”
“If he says no, then I’ll have to disobey. Isn’t it better to ask forgiveness than permission?”
“Christ, Emma, why am I here if you’re not even going to listen?”
“And if The Serpent goes after me and it’s self-defense…” My mind is churning with possibilities.
“You’re forgetting something,” he says, and I turn to him, my brows rising with my silent query. “You push this, and all of the rest of it may come out. You. Me. Texas. You may be throwing caution to the wind, but I’m not. That past is buried. Do you think I want Stark and Hunter and the rest of them looking at me like that?”
My chest tightens. “You know I don’t,” I say. “But why does this all have to be so difficult. I’m not a puppet on a string anymore. At least, I’m not supposed to be.”
He shrugs. “Some strings can’t ever be cut. You know that, Em. Don’t play naive,” he adds. “It’s about as good a look for you as that getup.”
Chapter Six
There was an upside to having Damien Stark indebted to you, Tony thought. Stretch limos for one thing.
He hadn’t expected it. In fact, he’d intended to simply leave his car at the airport after picking up Emma. But when he’d called Stark last night to let him know that things had worked out with Emma, the man had offered him the use of his personal driver and limo to and from the airport. And that wasn’t the kind of thing Tony was inclined to refuse.
Now he was back at Emma’s house, and although Tony had intended to go to the door—as if this were a proper date or something—she was out of the bungalow and halfway down the sidewalk before either he or Edward, the driver, had time to even get out of the limo.
She was dressed like a woman heading for a beach vacation. She wore beaded sandals paired with a short denim skirt that hit mid-thigh. That was topped with a T-shirt that revealed a strip of her very toned abdomen. It was decorated with a cartoon cupcake and said Eat Me. He smiled, wondering if that was for his benefit.
Her hair was dark brown, and though he much preferred the vibrant red that he guessed was her natural color, he supposed he couldn’t fault her for taking a few steps toward altering her appearance.
She carried a duffel that Edward, who had hurried around the car to meet her, took as he opened the door.
“Thank you.” She ducked as she got inside, and Tony scooted over to make room for her on the bench seat. Her expression was amused, and he made an effort to remain deadpan, as if this was oh so run-of-the mill for him.
“Would either of you care for a mimosa?” Edward asked.
“Why not?” Emma said. “It will be hours before we reach the resort, and I intend to nap on the plane. We arrive early evening, right?”
He nodded.
“We should be rested. I have a feeling this is the kind of place with a nightlife.”
It was a good point. And thinking about it, he had to agree that a cocktail wasn’t a bad idea.
A few moments later, Edward had poured them two glasses and secured the pitcher in a receptacle that was part of the console behind them.
“Your idea?” Emma asked when they were alone again.
He almost told her it was, but he shook his head. It wasn’t. Unlike most of his friends, Tony was not rolling in money. His father’s estate—more accurately, the estate his father had stolen from his mother—had been left to a trust when he died, not Tony. And while his uncle had left him a small house in LA, it had come saddled with a mortgage and a list of needed repairs.
He’d made decent money during his years at Deliverance, but he’d spent most of it in his search for The Serpent. Contrary to what the movies suggested, being in the business of vendettas didn’t pay particularly well. And ever since Deliverance had shuttered, he’d been financing his quest with the occasional odd job.
With luck, he was nearing the end of that epic journey.
“Let me guess,” she said. “The limo was Stark’s idea.”
“I think it’s a peace offering to you.”
“Yeah? Well, I might have overreacted, too.” Her eyes flashed with mischief. “Not that I’ll turn this down.”
“Good. We may as well travel in style.”
“Indeed.” She held up her glass, and he clicked his against it. Then she took a long sip before moving a bit to get comfortable.
He watched, enjoying her pleasure as she settled back against the supple leather upholstery. After a moment, though, her smile faded and she turned to him. “So, we’re cool, right? You’re not wondering where you stand, I’m not supposed to apologize, and you’re not in anguish from a case of blue balls?”
He kept his face completely blank as he reached behind him to push the button to raise the privacy screen. “Care to explain what you’re talking about?”
She glanced forward, then nodded at the screen. “You know damn well what I’m talking about. You were expecting to get laid last night, and I sent you home with your tail between your legs.”
He sipped his mimosa as he considered his reply. “First of all, my tail was not between my legs. Second of all, yeah, considering where we’re heading and the fact that this game needs to look real, I don’t think my expectation was unreasonable. And,” he added, tugging on the shirt with its Eat Me message, “you don’t think so, either.”
“No, you’re right. I don’t. Frankly, I think we would have had a blast. That’s a plus for the mission, don’t you think? At the very least, we won’t have to play Go Fish during our down time.”
“Depends on what we’re fishing for,” he said, with just the hint of a leer.
As he hoped, she laughed. “Yeah, well, I am sorry. I had some shit happen last night and I
needed to deal with it. Thus, the brush off.”
“You didn’t get a call. Did a text come in?” He hadn’t noticed, but he’d been relaxed with her. His guard surprisingly down considering he didn’t yet know her that well. It’s possible she’d glanced at her phone, and he’d missed it.
“Yeah,” she said, and though it was probably only paranoia, he had the strangest feeling that she was lying.
“So what happened?”
She dragged her fingers through her hair, lifting it, then letting it fall around her shoulders. It shouldn’t have hit him so hard, but damn, that move was sexy. “You really don’t want to get drawn into my bullshit,” she said.
“If we’re working together, I think it’s inevitable. But if you’d rather talk about politics or religion, then go for it.”
“Funny.”
“Not really, but it was the best I could come up with on the spur of the moment.”
“Well, since you tried so hard…” She shifted on the bench seat, until she could face him better, then reached behind her to take the mimosa she’d secured in a holder on the door. “I had a disagreement with a former partner last night. Some intel came in. I went to take care of it. He says I should let it go.”
She finished off the glass, then held it out to him for a refill.
“That’s all of it,” she said. “Sorry I kicked you out yesterday for such a thin reason. And I’m sorry it’s weighing me down today. You didn’t sign up to work with an emotional amateur.”
“So the intel’s related to a cold case?”
“Something like that.”
“And he was okay with not acting on the intel?”
She tilted her head back and forth, frowning slightly as if she was weighing options. “Yeah. I suppose that’s a fair way of putting it.”
“Huh.”
Her brow furrowed. “Care to elaborate? What exactly does huh mean?”
“I’m impressed anyone can let a case go, cold or not. God knows I’ve never been able to.”
“Exactly.” She leaned over and closed her hand on his thigh as she looked into his eyes with sincere appreciation. “That was my point to him. He thinks it needs to go away. I’m all for chasing it.”
“I don’t blame you.”
She leaned back a bit, but her hand stayed steady on his thigh. It was warm, and he was hyperaware of the connection between them. Hand. Eyes. And something more. Something intangible.
He had the sense that she was making her mind up about something, but when she spoke, all she said was, “We’re a lot alike. You’ve been chasing The Serpent forever. I’ve been working this case for what feels like my whole life.”
“It’s personal to you.” It wasn’t a question.
She nodded. “As I said—we’re a lot alike.”
For a moment, she stayed like that. Her touch gentle, her eyes mischievous, and he let his mind roam through all the things that one could do in a limo. Guilt-free roaming, too. After all, he’d be doing some of those things on the island soon enough.
“Emma—”
“Am I your girlfriend or your whore?”
“Excuse me?” She was still looking at his face, still leaning forward, and his mind was so muddled that he legitimately didn’t understand the question. “What are you talking about?”
She sat back, breaking the contact. He drew a breath and felt oxygen return to his brain.
“On the island. Are we a couple that picked Debauchery as our vacation destination? Or are you a guy who wanted a wild time, so you paid a girl to join you?”
“Does it matter?”
“It might,” she said. “At the very least, we need to have our story straight.”
“All right. You decide.”
She grinned. “Yeah? In that case you’re paying me five-thousand a day to accompany you.”
“Nice to know I have that kind of cash. Why not be my devoted girlfriend?” He had a few ideas about her reasoning—and the truth was, now that she’d raised the question, he would have come down on the side of professional escort as well. It would be interesting to see how similar their rationales were.
“First, we don’t know each other that well, and while on any other resort we could fake it with a contrived background story, this place has the potential to get strangely intimate. Better to stick closer to the truth.”
“The truth being that we barely know each other.”
“Exactly.” She finished her mimosa in two long swallows, then held it out for a refill. He topped his off at the same time. He was feeling a buzz—he hadn’t bothered with breakfast that morning—but a few hours of sleep on the plane would fix him up.
“Go on.”
“Even as wild as these places are, it makes more sense for you to go off with another woman if I’m not your girlfriend or your wife. And you might have to do that with The-Asst.”
“Also what I was thinking.” Though he hoped not. He’d do what was necessary for the mission, of course. But the only woman he actually wanted to enjoy the resort with was Emma.
It was an interesting realization. The truth was, Tony couldn’t think of the last time he’d been seriously attracted to a woman. Sure, he’d met a few here and there who ended up in his bed. But Emma was the first one he actively wanted to be there for more than just lust or boredom. Not that there wasn’t some lust involved. Mostly it was fascination. She’d caught his attention when she’d accompanied Quince onto the tennis court. And she’d gotten under his skin the moment she told off Damien Stark.
There was something about her. A vibrancy. A competence. He wanted to touch it. To hold it. To possess it. So, yeah. He wanted her in bed.
He’d been enjoying the delusion that she wanted him, too. But now that she was mentioning the possibility that he’d leave her to go off with his contact, he had to wonder if he’d misread her entirely.
“Is that what you’re hoping?” As soon as the question was out, he wanted to call it back. He sounded like a needy teenager, and he had only the alcohol and his libido to blame.
“What? That you’ll leave me to soak up rays in a lounge chair while you go fuck all of this informant’s secrets out of her? No, Tony, that’s not what I want.”
He noticed the use of his nickname, but didn’t correct her. He liked the way it sounded. He also liked her answer.
“Isn’t it?”
“No,” she said, then slid off the bench seat and knelt in front of him, her hands on his knees.
He tried not to react, but he was certain she could see the bulge in his jeans. “Then what do you want?”
“That’s not the question,” she said, her voice low and sultry as she slid her hands up to mid-thigh. ”You’re supposed to ask if there are any more reasons for me to be your paid escort and not your girlfriend.”
“All right. Are there?”
She urged his legs apart, then scooted in between his knees. Next, she rose up so that she could lean forward and whisper in his ear. As she did, the fingertips of her right hand lightly brushed his cock. It took a Herculean effort, but he managed not to groan.
“There’s one more reason,” she whispered. “It’s because if you’re paying me, then you can demand anything you want. And we have to keep up the fiction. So use me however you want. Soft, hard, wicked, dirty. It’s up to you. You have all the control.”
He swallowed. “Is that so?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“And that’s the way you want to play this?”
“It is.”
The answer surprised him. From what he’d seen, he wouldn’t have guessed that Emma was submissive. Then again, what was that saying? You never really knew someone until you saw them naked. “Why?”
She sat back on her knees, her expression shifting from sultry temptation to all business. “Beyond the simple fact that it fits our roles?”
“Beyond that, yes.”
Her mouth curved into an enigmatic grin. “I have my reasons. But don’t worry, I promise I can
handle it. I spent a significant chunk of my life playing hooker. Even earned a living that way for awhile.”
He studied her face, and didn’t think she was lying. More than that, he didn’t think she meant as an undercover assignment.
“Unless you have objections?” She leaned back, and he wondered what she saw in his expression. “I can be your innocent girlfriend if you’d rather. And you brought me to the island to see if I had a wild side.”
He shook his head. “No. No, it’s a good plan. The right plan. No objections.” The cover did make the most sense. But at the same time, he had a feeling this conversation was about more than sex. That it would impact their entire partnership on this mission. And yet he couldn’t deny that the idea of having this strong, beautiful woman at his command was heady. And, like she’d said, it made sense for the mission.
“No,” he repeated. “No objections at all.”
Chapter Seven
“We’re so glad you’ll all be joining us for a little Debauchery at Debauchery!” The pretty flight attendant for the chartered flight, who looked about as clean cut as a high school yearbook editor and not at all what Tony expected, stood at the front of the cabin now that they’d reached cruising altitude.
“We’ll be landing on the island at about six local time, and you should have your room key by seven. That gives you plenty of time to rest, grab a bite, and then join the evening fun by the pool—or just enjoy yourself in your room. That’s the beauty of Debauchery—you make your own pleasure plan. Just remember that your concierge is always there to help with anything you need.”
Beside him, Emma mouthed, Pleasure plan, then winked. He grinned back. It was a real mission, a serious mission. But at least part of it was going to be fun.
The attendant moved to a console, then dimmed the lights. It wasn’t even noon yet, but they were heading to a sex resort with hours of flying time ahead of them. The movie selection on their in-seat consoles was all porn, ranging from soft and sexy to hard-core. And a screen at the front of the plane was showing silent video from the resort itself. Couples and groups naked in hot-tubs. Scantily clad women lounging on recliners. Couples entering private poolside cabanas—and other couples staying outside on the double bed-size loungers. There were scenes in the nightclub. Dancing. Touching. All intimate. All provocative.
