by Jo Davis
“Well, I value my hide, such as it is. When in Rome, as they say. Besides, it’s not like I’m getting rich working for Michael.”
His expression darkened at the mention of his former mentor’s name. “Indeed.”
The rest of the ride passed in relative silence. Her stomach settled somewhat, as much from getting used to the ride as from buying herself some time. How much was anyone’s guess. At least she wouldn’t be thrown out of the aircraft.
She spent the next hour and a half studying her surroundings, not that the scenery yielded much information. The area below was rural. No surprise there. Dietz would hole up in some place secluded yet luxurious, if she had him pegged right. He didn’t seem like a man to give up his creature comforts if he could help it.
Shifting her attention to the pilot, she suppressed a grimace. The big brute with the pockmarked face only a mother could love looked like he belonged on the FBI’s most wanted list along with Dietz. Probably was. As if her perusal was telegraphed to him, he turned in his seat to leer at her, waggling his tongue suggestively. Yuck. She shot him a glare and returned her attention to the countryside below.
Finally, they began to descend, and her relief at being able to get off this hunk of flying metal was overshadowed by new fears. What would be expected of her? Did Dietz already have a duty in mind, perhaps involving her skills as a disguise artist? If that was all he wanted she’d consider herself lucky. But luck hadn’t exactly been her best bud today.
Whatever he wants, you can deal with it. Just for a day or two, until Blaze comes.
He would come for her, and there’d be hell to pay. She held on to that as the copter touched down and settled, letting the knowledge wrap her in a safe cocoon. Until then, she’d do whatever it took to survive. That’s what was expected of a good agent.
As she followed Dietz and stepped into the sunshine, she took in the elegant, sprawling estate. Situated in the middle of nowhere, the two-story mansion was a cream-colored adobe-type design with a red Spanish tile roof. A breezy-looking covered wraparound porch extended across the front, stretched along the side, and turned the corner to continue, she assumed, to the back. She could easily picture sipping wine or sangria in a rocking chair, whiling the afternoon away . . . if it weren’t for the armed men posted on the corners and on the balcony.
Sort of ruined the idyllic effect.
Dietz placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her forward, as though he had every right to take possession of her person. She clamped her lips together and said nothing about the gesture, resisting the urge to pop him a good one. All things in good time.
When he steered her into the palatial foyer, she whistled through her teeth. “Nice little shack. Espionage must be profitable.”
“Perhaps I’ll keep you here long enough for you to find out just how much.” Without breaking stride, he barked at a young guard. “You, show our guest to a room and make certain she has proper attire for the evening. And make sure she doesn’t go wandering about. We wouldn’t want her to get lost,” he said with a sly smile.
“Yes, sir.”
“Are the preparations in order?”
“Just as you requested, sir.”
“All right. Make yourself useful, and see that my other guests are settled in after you take care of Miss Foster. We’ll begin at eight o’clock as scheduled.”
“I’m on it, sir.” The guard stepped a few feet away, waiting for her to accompany him.
“You must’ve had your escape thoroughly planned in advance,” she observed. “Is this a strategy session?”
“A celebration of our plans moving forward,” he corrected. “And perhaps a bit of business mixed with the pleasure. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have details to attend to. I look forward to seeing you later this evening.”
She narrowed her eyes at his back as he strode off with confidence, very much a man in his element. The urbane host playing his role to the hilt. Thinking of the casual way he’d threatened to toss her from the helicopter, she didn’t believe his bullshit for a second.
“Ma’am, come with me.”
Her throat tightened, stomach knotting in dread as an evil little voice whispered that she might be here longer than she’d planned. That Blaze might not find her after all, and she’d be stuck at Dietz’s mercy indefinitely.
“Is the weapon housed here?” she asked, more to prod him for a reaction than out of any real hope he’d answer. He didn’t betray the slightest twitch, simply kept walking, up the elegant stairs and to a room on the second floor.
“You’ll stay in here until Mr. Dietz sends for you,” he said, pushing open the door. “Appropriate clothing for this evening and an afternoon snack will be brought to you shortly.”
“Fine.” She couldn’t quite bring herself to say “thanks” when she’d never asked to be kidnapped and brought here in the first place. So she tried another question. “Is this Dietz’s estate?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
She frowned at the young guard. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing you need to be concerned about. Enjoy your rest.” With that, he left. The scrape of the lock made her feel like an animal in a cage, though in this case the real animals roamed free on the range to wreak havoc on people’s lives.
Rest, he’d said? Sure, I’ll just have a nice comfy doze while my captors plot more treason and discuss my fate. What a joke.
She paced the large room, hardly appreciating the dark, fine furnishings, including the queen-sized bed. What she noticed first was the crucial lack of any object she could use as a weapon. For all its beauty, the bedroom was as clean and barren as a hotel room. No candles in jars, no knickknacks of any kind. Same thing with the bathroom.
Escape route? Forget it. Both the window in the bathroom and the one in the bedroom were too high off the ground, with no tree, lattice, or other object to climb down. The fall would likely break several bones at best. Besides, even if she could get out, the windows were likely outfitted with alarms. She wouldn’t get two feet from the house once she hit the ground.
Frustrated, she sat on the bed. There wasn’t even a radio or a television to help the hours pass more quickly, and the time stretched ahead even longer than before. Now she understood what the guard meant—there wasn’t a damned thing to do here but rest. And whatever rich, merry criminals did when they held evening parties.
She flopped back on the bed and let her mind drift to Blaze. What was he doing right now? Raging, wanting to tear apart the countryside looking for her, no doubt, but he couldn’t do a thing until SHADO located this place.
Closing her eyes, she recalled the last time he’d made love to her. How hesitant she’d been and how he’d pushed past her barriers like always, cutting through them as though they were tissue paper. The man was one hundred percent raw alpha, knowing no sexual boundaries, with very little on his taboo list. It scared her some, but did she really want to change anything about him?
Unbidden, the image came to her. The woman on her knees, his cock sliding down her pretty throat, the other Dom fucking her from behind. The ecstasy on Blaze’s handsome face . . .
Unzipping her pants, she parted her legs and pushed a hand inside, brushing her throbbing clit. “Oh, God.” Her pussy was so wet and hot, needing. That one moment, etched into her brain, had changed her whole world despite her attempt to fight it. Wasn’t it wrong to be turned on by watching your man dominate another woman?
No, her body denied. Admit it—you want every decadent pleasure this man has to offer. You want him to take you places you never dreamed you’d venture.
Rubbing her nub with slow strokes, she envisioned the scene with herself included. On her knees servicing Blaze’s hot Dom friend while the other sub did the same to Emma’s man. Both of them deep-throating the hard, silken rods, faces buried in their groins. Being owned.
Emma’s desire spiked, and she arched her hips to plunge a finger into her channel—just as the lock scraped
in the door. She barely had time to jerk her hand from her pants as it opened and a guard, a different one, stepped inside, closing it behind him and arching a dark brow.
Busted. Her face flamed and she scrambled for something to say, but her mind blanked as she studied the newcomer. This man was older, maybe a couple of years younger than Blaze, thirty or so. His rich chocolate brown hair matched his eyes and was pulled back into a ponytail. His shoulders were broad and muscular, his black T-shirt clinging to his chest and washboard abs. The shirt was tucked into his fatigues, which hugged his long thighs and cupped his sex invitingly. For a long moment, she stared at him, wishing this man wasn’t her enemy. What a waste.
“I’ve brought your clothes for tonight,” he said in a smooth whiskey voice, placing a shopping sack on the dresser. His sexy lips curved upward. “I was going to ask whether you needed anything, but it looks like you found it.”
She pushed up to a sitting position and yanked her shirt down to cover her open pants. Jesus, how embarrassing. “I’m good, thanks. Unless you’ve got a cell phone I could use to call my boss so he can rush right over and ram his boot up your collective asses.”
“Ouch, that doesn’t sound like fun. I’ll have to pass.” He gave her a heart-stopping smile that warmed his eyes. And made him appear to be something more than a disgusting antigovernment militant freak. In fact, he looked downright charming.
People had said that about Ted Bundy, too.
She waved a hand at the sack. “What kind of party is this? Your boss wasn’t very forthcoming about the particulars, and I don’t like surprises.”
Moving a few steps closer, he crossed his arms over his chest and stood with his boots braced apart. “Well, Miss Foster, your day seems to be full of them with more on the way. I’m not supposed to tell you anything, but if you take a peek in the sack I believe that will answer your question.”
“Why are you being so nice?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
“You work for Dietz, and he’s a traitorous, murdering bastard. Apples and trees, as they say.”
“If you want your curiosity satisfied, look in the sack. It’s not complicated.”
Suspicious, she rose and walked over to the dresser. With a glance at him to make sure he hadn’t moved, she pulled apart the handles of the sack and saw a bundle of black clothing. On top rested a pair of slip-on high-heeled shoes. Really high. Grimacing, she lifted them out and held them up. “I’ll never be able to walk in these without getting a nosebleed. Couldn’t he have sent a nice pair of flats?”
“He likes for the women who attend his parties to dress in a certain style. High heels are his thing.” The man shrugged.
“Great,” she muttered, setting the shoes on the dresser. Next, she fished out a pair of black pants. They were loose, palazzo-style, very elegant—something she’d be thrilled to have occasion to wear if circumstances were different. She laid them out on the bed and returned to the sack, lifted out the long-sleeved blouse . . . and gaped in astonishment. “Where’s the rest of this?”
“That’s all there is, sorry.”
“You can’t be serious!” She shook the offending garment at him, incensed. “This is completely see-through! I need a top to wear under this or my bra’s going to show.”
The sympathy in his eyes seemed real as he replied. “You won’t be wearing a bra. Or panties, either.”
She blinked at him as though he’d spoken another language. “What?”
“Dietz’s orders. All of his women—”
“I am not one of his women! Not in his wildest fantasies! That arrogant son of a bitch,” she fumed. “Make myself useful, my ass.”
“If it’s any consolation, I’m your escort for the evening,” he said softly, his liquid gaze sweeping her from head to toe in appreciation. “He’ll be so busy that he won’t bother you tonight except to keep an eye on your whereabouts.”
“This is supposed to comfort me? I’m going to be basically half naked in a roomful of strangers doing God-knows-what,” she said hoarsely.
“Yes. But I promise to keep everyone else away from you, make your evening—and the duration of your stay—as pleasurable as possible.”
Emma’s nipples tightened under his heated regard. There was no mistaking his meaning, or how the tone of honesty rang true in his voice. Suddenly, the double edge of his words “the duration of your stay” hit her square in the chest, and she knew what he was trying to say.
This man was an undercover agent. Not from SHADO, but from some other organization. Maybe a Fed. She wasn’t alone, and her relief was overwhelming.
“I see,” she said with a nod, but didn’t elaborate. He nodded back. They both knew Dietz could be monitoring her room, and blowing his cover would be fatal for them both. “May I have your first name, at least? Since you’re going to be my date and all.” “J.C.”
“J.C.”
“You can call me Emma.”
“Until tonight, gorgeous Emma.” He flashed her a smile and turned to go, locking the door behind him.
She lowered herself to the bed with a shaky sigh, mind whirling. Unsatisfied arousal thrummed through her body, made worse by the circumstances surrounding tonight’s command performance. The combination of danger and eroticism was a heady aphrodisiac. Not to mention the fact that her escort was a mouthwatering stick of manly candy, and one of the good guys to boot.
She wanted J.C. It was purely selfish, completely intoxicating. Would it be wrong to indulge? Would Blaze be angry, or would he understand?
Sex is natural, baby. There’s nothing shameful about two or more consenting adults taking pleasure in each other’s bodies.
Well, he might have to eat those words with a knife and fork, since he was the one who’d put all these adventurous new ideas in her head.
Grabbing a pillow, she squashed it over her face and tried to drown out her surroundings and the dilemma of this evening.
Just for a little while.
Blaze paced SHADO’s command center, snarling at any unfortunate SOB who looked at him sideways. “I thought you said the fucking helicopter had tracking on it,” he shouted, jabbing a finger at Michael’s chest.
“It does, but they must be jamming the goddamned signal,” his boss replied, batting his hand away.
“So fix it.”
“It’s not that simple, and you know it! We’re working on solving the problem, Kelly, so just calm the hell down.”
“Work on it faster.”
A roomful of top agents, including Bastian, watched the two of them square off toe to toe, in each other’s faces. Blaze knew he was out of line, making a spectacle of himself, but he was so scared for Emma he couldn’t think straight. Nothing mattered but bringing her home safe and sound in his arms. Whatever he could do to speed up the process, he was all over it.
“We’re working as fast as we can to unscramble the signal,” Michael said evenly, clasping his shoulder. “Until then, there’s nothing you can do. Go home, Blaze. Get some rest. You’re going to need it when we locate them.”
“I need to be here—”
“Go. Home.”
He took a deep breath. Let it out. His boss’s tone brooked no further argument. He rarely used it on Blaze, which meant he’d become more of a hindrance than a help. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Promise you’ll call me if you find them before I come back in the morning.”
“You have my word.”
That wasn’t much reassurance, but it would have to do. He strode out, ignoring the stares boring into his back. Fuck them if they couldn’t understand how he felt, having his woman taken by public enemy number one.
Fuck them all.
Emma stared at herself in the full-length bathroom mirror, swallowing hard. She didn’t recognize the woman staring back, the one with dark, taut nipples showing through the sheer fabric of the black blouse. The palazzo pants hugged her waist and flowed down her long legs to her spiky shoes, and felt positively wicked without underwear
between her pussy and the fabric.
Never in her life had she dared to dress like a high-dollar whore. She could never have imagined what set of circumstances could possibly drive her to it.
“Good God, what’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing that I can see.”
She jumped and whirled, hand on her heart, to find J.C. eyeing her like a starving man at his last supper. “Can’t you knock?”
“And miss watching you check out your lovely naked breasts? I’m no fool.”
She was painfully aware of the silky slide of the material on her erect nipples, and the knowledge that very soon, she’d be exposed to strangers. Her clit tingled and flushed with warmth, which filled her with confusion. How could she feel this way here, with this man she didn’t know?
“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said, gently taking her chin and forcing her to meet his gaze. “You are stunning and have nothing to be ashamed about. We’ll do what we must, what is expected, and you’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of that.”
His fingers brushed down her vulnerable throat, then on to skim one pert nipple ever so lightly. The simple touch sent little shocks dancing to her nerve endings, and she sucked in a breath. Let it out slowly. “Have you done this before, escorted the . . . guests?”
“A couple of times. My number was up for tonight, lucky me.”
No, lucky me. In more ways than one, because if she’d drawn anyone else, her outlook might not be so good. “You look great in leather. Does he always let you out of uniform for his parties?” God, those pants looked like they’d been spray-painted on. And all that shiny brown hair loose around the shoulders of his white silk shirt? The man was a hunk of fry-your-panties delight—if she’d been wearing any.
“Only if we’re lucky enough to work inside. He likes for us to fit in so we don’t alarm his friends.”
“I can see that. Are you armed?”
He nodded. “Ankle holster. I’m never without a weapon.”
“I’ll bet,” she said, eyes dropping to his crotch and the impressive bulge there.
