by Miley Maine
Chapter Thirteen
Owen
I was sound asleep when someone started pounding on my door.
Fuck.
I was out of bed in a second. All traces of sleep faded in an instant as I ran through possible scenarios.
Was it Laurent? Had he found out something? My apartment had security, so it wouldn’t be some random burglar off the street. Laurent though, he could get in. He owned the building, and he paid for my apartment, as part of my contract for working for him.
My heart pounded as I grabbed the loaded Glock I kept under my pillow. I flipped the safety off and headed to the door. I peeked through the hole.
It was Jack. I kept my gun lifted. I trusted Jack as much as I’d trust most other agents I knew, but there was always the possibility he was being threatened or held at gunpoint himself.
I stepped back and unbolted the door, I pulled it open, still holding my gun where it was aimed at him.
“I’m alone,” he said. “Not compromised.” Without me asking, he pulled his t-shirt up to show he wasn’t concealing any wires, bombs or weapons.
I flipped the safety back on and lowered the Glock, but I kept it in my hand. Now that he was in my den, I realized he was wearing a wig with a man bun, and some hipster-style clothes.
He rolled his eyes. “I know, the costume is obnoxious, but necessary.”
“How’d you find me?” I asked.
“I followed you.”
That did not make me feel much better. Sure, he was trained as well as I was, but I should have noticed.
“How’d you get in?” I knew he wouldn’t risk knocking the guard out. Not here. Not in a building Laurent owned.
“Badge,” he said. And he pulled out a fake Santiago Police badge.
“So now the guard thinks I’m a crook?” I asked.
“No. I told him you’d had a laptop stolen in the park. He barely listened after that.”
Shit. Maybe I needed to move if that was all the protection I had here.
“I’m sorry to barge in like this,” Jack said. “But I got some info on the professor from the party. He’s connected to Laurent’s other business.”
“The chemical weapons.”
“Yes,” Jack said.
“You’re sure?” I asked.
“As much as I can be, yes.” He ran his hands through his hair. “He’s stayed off the radar for the most part. He’s not just a seller. He’s a producer. He helped fund the original production.”
“Mother fucker. That little piss-ant?” The small, simpering man who was a terrible dresser was an international chemical weapons dealer.
“Yeah, the very same one,” Jack said. “And that’s not all. He’s also helped Laurent find more potential buyers, all over the world. Right now there are buyers in France, who are connected to South America, and buyers in Ireland, who are connected to the Middle East.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. I know I shouldn’t be here, but I couldn’t wait. Things are getting hot on my end, and I’m heading to Argentina for a few weeks, maybe a month.” He paced back and forth across my den. “I’ve got a new phone, and a new number and a new address.”
He rattled the new numbers off for me, and I memorized them. I wouldn’t be writing any of this down.
Before he left, we shook hands. “Watch your back, man,” I said. I hoped this wouldn’t be the last time I ever saw him.
Dammit all to hell. I’d been working with the theory that Laurent kept the two parts of his life separate. On one side, he was a successful business owner and a nice family man, and on the other side, he was a ruthless chemical weapons dealer. But he’d mixed those two worlds up, bringing another one of these rat-bastards into his home, the same home where Kate was living.
I should never have gotten involved with her. If this got sticky, I’d be limited in how much I could protect her. The job did come first for me, but that was also an iron-clad directive from the Agency.
The best-case scenario would be for me to tell her that Laurent was a filthy monster, and she should get the hell out of his house. I could buy her a plane ticket back to Alabama, and make sure she got home safe.
But she wasn’t going to give up her cushy job watching an easy baby, and her life-long dream of traveling based on the warning of an accountant she’d just met. She’d probably think I was a drug-dealer trying to double-cross Laurent, and call the police, either here or back home.
The truth was not an option, because that would violate my oath.
And I couldn’t just end things with her. If I quit coming over abruptly, she’d tell Laurent’s wife, who was clearly enjoying some sort of fairy godmother role in our dating life. I had no idea what the hell that was about, but if Kate was upset, Laurent’s wife would be too. And then Laurent would turn his slimy gaze on me, and start wondering why I suddenly didn’t want to date the nanny, when I’d been gung-ho just a few days before.
Fuck. I kicked the coffee table.
Kate should never have gotten mixed up with Laurent and his crime lords. That professor of hers at the University of Alabama was going to have me to answer to, assuming I survived this bust.
So, for now, the best plan I had was to keep seeing Kate and act normally.
And for work, I’d be paying a few of my local contacts a visit to find out what I could about the professor I’d met at Laurent’s party.
I checked the time. Three fucking a.m. Sleep was not an option. Still vibrating from the adrenaline rush of having Jack beat on my door in the middle of the night, I got on the floor to do some push-ups. After a few dozen push-ups, sit-ups and jumping jacks, maybe I’d settle down enough to sit down and make some notes about this case.
By four a.m, I was able to lie back down. I still hadn’t settled much. My heart had stopped racing, but my mind hadn’t.
It was clear that I wouldn’t be able to bring Kate here. Never ever. If Jack could find me, then anyone could.
I was not going to let Kate get swept up in any of this. If there was a way I could get her away from Laurent without raising suspicions, I would. But unfortunately, the wife was attached to Kate, and wasn’t going to let her go easily. Trying to get her out of there would only put her in more danger, which was unacceptable.
Chapter Fourteen
Kate
On Sunday, I dressed in white capris and a bright pink top. I smeared sunscreen on under the little bit of makeup I was going to wear, and added a big straw hat.
Owen was due to pick me up for the wine-tasting tour, and once again I’d packed an overnight bag into my largest purse. We were lucky; the temperature was a fresh sixty-five this morning, and the sky was a clear blue.
When Owen showed up, he was dressed casually again. He wore the polo shirt well, as it stretched over his broad shoulders, and the cargo shorts hung nicely on his narrow hips. He pulled his sunglasses off to give me a hello kiss.
I waved goodbye to Mateo and Amelia, and hopped in his car. Today, his BMW was a convertible. “Different car?” I asked.
“Same one,” he explained. “It has a removable hardtop.”
“I’ve never ridden in a convertible,” I said.
“You might want to hold onto your hat,” he said, reaching over to pat my leg. “Literally.”
Owen settled into the drive, but he didn’t say much. He seemed worried, or maybe preoccupied. “Is everything okay?” I asked. “Is work stressful?”
He huffed. “It’s not too bad,” he said. “Not nearly as bad as tax season was back in the States during the first week of April.” He shook his head. “Those were some crazy days. Every client thought they were the only one. It’s much nicer working for one person.”
I noticed he didn’t answer the question, but evaded it. Skillfully, but still evaded. I’d worked with troubled teens, enough to spot a defensive tactic when I saw one. But I wasn’t going to push. As I’d told my sister, he wasn’t my boyfriend. And maybe he didn’t want to complain about his boss to me, s
ince Mr. Laurent was also my boss, but I lived in his house. Which was kind of awkward.
“I’m glad you like it,” I said, but instead of his usual confident smile, Owen seemed to grimace for just a second before his expression flattened out.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “I really do.” His hand came over to grab mine, and I let the thought go, instead focusing on being in a convertible in Santiago. It was a gorgeous city, full of people, good food, and bright colors.
“I found us a tour with a sommelier,” he said. “So we’ll really get educated.”
“I didn’t even know what that was until I moved here. No one in my neighborhood in Alabama knows there’s such a thing as a wine expert. Of course, they don’t drink wine. Just cheap beer.”
His easy smile was back. “Nothing wrong with beer.”
“No, there’s not.” There wasn’t anything wrong with the beer, just with the people who’d been drinking it. Like my parents, and all their friends. But this wasn’t the time to dwell on the past. I was in a convertible with a gorgeous man, in a gorgeous city, heading to learn about wine.
We started at Maipo Valley, and the views were stunning. Even without the benefit of the wine, the sightseeing was worth every penny. Well, not that I paid. Owen had covered that, but I would have happily paid, because the tour was just that good.
Beyond the valley, the mountains rose as far as I could see. In the valley, we were able to follow the sommelier through the actual vineyards where the grapes grew. Owen held my hand the entire way.
Sometimes, instead of listening to the tour guide, he just stared at me. After strolling through the vineyards, we headed to the winery, where we learned the differences between the types of wines.
On the way back into the city, I leaned my head against the seat. “In addition to human behavior, I now know a little bit about viticulture,” I said.
“So now that you understand the science behind making wine, are you going to try it yourself?”
“No. I don’t want to end up like my uncle, making swill in the bathtub and selling it to the neighbors.” Oops. I hadn’t meant to say that.
“Swill?” he asked. “What’s that?”
“Oh, that’s what my aunt called the illegal alcohol my uncle made in his house.”
I could see Owen’s eyebrows shoot up. He never mentioned his family. I wondered if they were normal, or if they were like mine – dysfunctional people, who spent a lot of time in and out of prison.
“Your uncle made alcohol in the bathtub? And people bought it?”
I pressed my hands to my eyes. “Maybe I shouldn’t have had that last glass of wine,” I said. “I have very little tolerance. I try not to drink too much, because I don’t want to end up like my mother.”
Oh damn. Now I’d said way too much. I folded over, resting my face against the cool leather of the car door.
Owen slowed the car and pulled over. His hand rested on the back of my neck. “Are you okay?” he asked. “You didn’t have more than a glass of wine at lunch,” he said. “And there’s not much to drink at the tastings.”
“When I said I don’t have much of a tolerance, I mean it. One glass is enough.”
“I’m sorry you’re feeling bad,” he said. “Are you car sick?”
Could this guy get any more perfect? Even my friends would have just laughed at me and said I was being dramatic.
“No. I don’t get car sick. I should have skipped the last glass, but I’m mostly embarrassed.”
“For what?” he asked.
“For spilling my guts about my nutty family.”
“You didn’t spill too much, but if you’re not comfortable talking about it, that’s fine with me, I get it. We all have stuff we don’t like talking about.”
I pulled my face away from the door and sat back up. “I don’t mind talking about it. God knows I got enough practice in college,” I said. “I figured if I was going to be a social worker, I couldn’t be too screwed up myself. So I spent as much time as I could with one of the free therapists the campus offered the students.”
“I’m glad you got help,” he said.
“Me too,” I said, still unwilling to meet his eyes. “Talking about it is okay. It doesn’t take me back there, or make me relive it, not now. But I still haven’t gotten over the deep sense of shame I have from growing up in a family that had no interest in taking care of their kids, and no interest in staying out of prison.”
He squeezed the back of my neck. “I’m sorry that you went through all of that.”
I waved my hand. “It’s fine,” I said. I sniffed and rubbed my eyes again. “Now. It’s a gorgeous day, and we’ve spent hours on an awesome tour, with breathtaking views, and great wine. I don’t want to ruin it.”
“Understood,” he said. He put the car back in drive, and took us back into the city, pointing out landmarks along the way.
I was grateful that he’d just let it go, without pestering me about it. As we drove back into the city, I smelled the sharp scent of wildflowers. My hair whipped around my face, and I held it in a loose ponytail with my hand. “I love the convertible,” I said.
“Me too,” he said. “It’s been worth every penny.”
We finished the rest of the drive in silence, but it was the good kind of silence, where we were both just relaxing and enjoying the scenery as Owen drove. About forty-five minutes after we left the winery, he patted my leg again. “Hey, you,” he said. “We’re back in town. I planned for us to get another room at the hotel we stayed at last week, but if you’re tired, I’ll take you home.”
Oh hell no. I was not giving up a night with Owen because I had a mini freak-out over my family after drinking a little too much wine. “I would love another night at the hotel. And this time we won’t have to rush off, because I’m off all day tomorrow.”
“In that case,” he said, “I’ll take us there, let the valet park the car, and then we can walk to dinner.”
“Sounds lovely, although I would like to go up to the room and brush my hair out.” I was hardly high maintenance, but my hair was a tangled mess after the convertible ride. Owen nodded, and we got to the hotel and up to our room. I brushed my teeth and washed my hair, still slightly humiliated that I nearly fell apart in front of Owen. I wasn’t a fan of repression, but tonight I was going to put it aside and move on.
After a delicious dinner at another local Chilean cuisine restaurant Owen had eaten at before, we walked along the streets under the twinkling lights. The crisp night air invigorated me, and I looped my arm through Owen’s. “I’m ready to go back to the room whenever you are,” I said.
“Yeah? I’m intrigued.” He bumped into me with his hip. “What are we going to do in there?”
I ducked my head. “I think you know.”
There was something I wanted to try this time. After I’d gotten off the video call with my sister the last time, I did a little research. I hesitated to search the internet for anything risque while using the Laurents’ wireless internet connection, but my phone was my own, so I switched on the cellular data plan and I entered the search term “how to give a blow job,” into the web browser.
“Tell me,” he said.
I might as well. I took a deep breath. “I want to go down on you,” I said. “I’ve never done it before, obviously, but I want to.”
Owen froze, right there on the cobblestone walk that led up to the hotel. He swallowed a few times. “Uh,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting you to say that.”
“Do you want me to?” I asked.
He exhaled a harsh breath. “There are no words to express how much I want that.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and guided me up toward our room. “I’m so hard right now that I can barely walk,” he said, voice low.
My stomach did its usual flip flop. I liked that I could make Owen hard, and now I wanted to make him feel good.
Chapter Fifteen
Owen
Holy shit. Kate was really good at blowing my m
ind. She’d done it over and over again, first with the confession that she was a virgin, and now she flat-out told me she wanted to go down on me.
I hadn’t imagined I’d ever get my cock sucked by Kate, and I wouldn’t have asked. I considered that a somewhat advanced thing to ask of a person, and she was still a novice. But if she was up for it, I was more than happy to participate.
I got her inside our room and locked the door behind us. I couldn’t wait – I had to kiss her immediately. I tugged her into my arms, and pressed my mouth over hers.
She molded her body into mine, pressing her hips against me, rubbing against my erection. My cock was so hard, I could barely stand it.
I broke the kiss and unbuttoned my pants. “I’m not trying to push you. But I’m about to explode,” I said.
She licked her lips, which nearly sent me over the edge. I was glad I’d showered earlier when we stopped by the hotel room before dinner. “You can rush me,” she said. “I don’t mind.” She peered up at me through her lashes, and I had to grab my cock to keep it from going off.
“If you’re interested in this, now’s the time. I won’t last much longer,” I said.
“We’ve only kissed.”
“Yeah, but just being around you turns me on. And when you mentioned going down on me, my brain nearly went offline.”
She pushed her lips into a pout. “Good. I’m glad I turn you on.” Without telling me she was going to do it, she dropped to her knees. “Should I start like this?”
I reached out and grabbed the wall with my hand. “Yes,” I sighed. “That’s perfect.”
Her small hands reached up and unzipped my shorts, pulling them down. Then she pulled my boxers down, careful to pull them over my rock hard cock.
She knelt in front of me, sexy as hell, and yet innocent at the same time. She tentatively took my cock in one hand.
“Kate,” I groaned. My eyes closed, but I forced them back open. I didn’t want to miss a second of her with her pretty mouth on my cock.
