Seduction and Surrender (Reckless #2)

by C. C. Gibbs

  Forced against his will to take part in his first orgy at fifteen, Rafe had been stubbornly resisting and so furious with rage at his father’s goading that Dao had worried about possible carnage on her white carpets or, worse, a dead body. She’d just opened the posh “massage” parlor, and was mortgaged to the hilt to the kind of men who expected their payments on time. Also, the bribes she was paying the police were already too high. She couldn’t afford a murder investigation.

  So she’d taken Maso aside and convinced him to let her school his boy privately, promising him videos in the morning. Then she and Rafe had spent the night together, talking—her early life had been as unhappy as his. By morning, Maso was so wasted by drugs that he couldn’t remember where he was, let alone a bargain he’d made with Dao. Ever since, she and Rafe had been friends, occasional business partners, and, even more infrequently, lovers.

  Dao smiled. “We’re both long past mere survival, aren’t we? You look happy. Considering the circumstances I assume it’s because of your fiancée. Tell me about her. I’m curious. Do you mind?”

  “No. She’s wonderful.” Rafe gave her a wry smile. “I have no idea why. She just is. I didn’t want to let her go so I’m keeping her.”

  A delicate lift of her brows. “Love?”

  “Oh yeah.” He did a little flicker of his brows. “That too. I have no idea where that came from either. Although thousands of poets have written about love in a thousand different ways, so I’m guessing that’s what hit me.” He smiled again. “It’s mind-boggling—in a very good way,” he added softly.

  “I can tell. Congratulations.”

  He gave her a glance from under his lashes. “Have you ever been blown away by love, or shouldn’t I ask? It’s just such a great feeling,” he said with a deprecating little shrug. “Brilliant, urgent.” He grinned. “Never enough.”

  “A true zealot.”

  “Fuck yeah. So what about you? Or am I overstepping?” Dao had a son at boarding school in Hong Kong. Had the father been someone she cared for?

  “No, darling, you’re not overstepping. You’ve just never thought to ask. But then you’ve never been in love before. You’ve met my son, Charlie. His father lives in London. He loves me as much as he can in his position and I love him more.”

  “He has a wife then, I’m assuming.”

  She nodded. “And three other children, almost grown now.”

  “A possible divorce later?”

  She shook her head. “He’s in government.”

  “Now I feel bad. I shouldn’t have asked. Forgive me.” He suddenly sat up straighter. “Want me to find you someone lovable? I’m sure I could.” Dao was stunningly beautiful, at most thirty-five, wealthy, and educated now that she’d made her fortune. He grimaced. “Oh hell, you’ll have to wait until I’m finished with Zou.”

  “I’m content. If and when I’m interested in a permanent substitute for Charlie’s father, I’ll let you know.”

  “No you won’t.”

  She laughed. “No I won’t. Now, for the business at hand, let me bring you up to date on Zou. I received a report earlier today from the men I have inside the compound. One’s a mechanic, the other serves Zou and his closest advisors their meals, and the third is selling them small arms. Their information is quite good.”

  Rafe listened, then asked questions about Zou’s journey south to Bangkok. Dao brought out a map and traced the possible routes. All three of her spies were traveling with Zou’s troops and would relay additional information as they could.

  “Does anyone know whether he’s taking a stand here or simply using Bangkok for a staging area? Ganz is tapping his phone as we speak so we should have ears on him soon. Zou has to know by now that he lost three assault teams on my island along with his signal. The cunt was using Bao-Yu’s little girl’s earrings he’d given her as transmitters; he figured no one would toss diamonds that large.”

  “He was right. Zou’s sharp and, in case you forgot, surrounded by personal bodyguards. You have your work cut out for you.”

  “Ganz emptied Zou’s department account and blasted his operation to dust. I’m hoping Zou has other soft spots too. In the meantime, give me those reports and we’ll keep adjusting our plans as needed.”

  “You’re at your place?”

  “Yup. In fact, I’m walking back.” Rafe had a small house in the expensive, leafy area of Embassy Row, a walled estate like most of the residences there.

  “Do you think that’s wise?”

  “Carlos complained too. I’ll be fine. I’m going the back way.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, crazy in love.” Coming to his feet, he swept up the pile of reports, folded them, and shoved them in his back pocket. “I have no intention of dying today or anytime in the next fifty years. You’ll have to come to the wedding.”

  “Send me an invitation.” His fiancée might have other ideas.

  “You got it.” He blew her a kiss and walked out.

  Dao picked up her desk phone the second Rafe left, talked to her security director, and ordered him to see that Rafe arrived home alive.

  Rafe had just reached Dao’s garden gate when he turned back, smiled at the six men standing ten yards behind him, and spoke to them in the Bangkok dialect standard for the country. “I suppose you’d better come or she’ll dock your pay, right?”

  “Or worse,” the leader said with a grin.

  Rafe waited for them to catch up. “You’ve been with Dao a long time.” He recognized the man from Dao’s original massage parlor.

  “We’re both from the same hill tribe. We grew up together.”

  “All of you?” Rafe indicated the rest of his crew as they approached.

  The man nodded. “Dao’s the village patroness. Built a new school last year, a hospital the year before, set up two businesses in the village so people have jobs.”

  “Dao helped me out years ago too. She has a big heart.”

  “She qualifies as a saint for many of us.. Now, are you going to let me look out the gate first in case there’s trouble waiting for you?”

  Rafe laughed. “Do I have a choice?”

  “She’s watching, so if you don’t mind I’d better do the looking.”

  “Jesus.” Rafe turned, grinned at Dao in the second floor window, and gave her the finger. She gave it right back. “What the hell,” Rafe said with a chuckle. “Be my guest or she’ll come down and smack us around.” Dao had been a dominatrix early in her career.

  “No doubt. Stand back.”

  As Rafe expected, his five-minute walk home was uneventful. Zou had a lot more on his plate than keeping tabs on all of Rafe’s homes. After thanking his escort, Rafe entered his property through his garden gate and smiled at the two guards pointing assault rifles at him. “Just me. Christ, I can hear Henny banging pots from here. Did he mention what was on the menu?”

  “Something with chiles. Along with fish. We’re in Bangkok, he said.”

  “Sounds good. Zou’s on his way south. He shouldn’t be here for another day or so, but in case he has scouts out, heads up, okay?”

  A huge smile from the larger of the two men. “Finally some action.”

  “Anyone who uses a little kid for bait,” the other man said, “deserves what he gets.”

  “True enough. Carlos in?”

  “Upstairs. Staying out of Henny’s way. I’m locking this gate now that you’re in. We’re doing two-hour rotations so everyone stays alert.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Zou’s bringing down a fucking armada. We’ll just have to see how motivated his troops are.”

  A few minutes later, Rafe walked into his study on the second floor where Carlos, Simon, and Leo were going over maps while Webster and Sasha were setting up more monitors for their security system. Gina and Basil were seated on the floor playing chess. “You heard. Zou’s on his way. A day or two before he gets into town. Here’s Dao’s reports.” Rafe handed them to Carlos. “She has three
men inside. How’s Ganz doing with the phone tap?”

  “Almost there, he said not too long ago,” Carlos replied. “He’s next door in your bedroom. He likes to be alone when he works, he says. What he really means is he can do lines without anyone giving him a hard time. But he’s starting to get tremors. It’s been too long this time.”

  “Yeah, Zou’s been pushing hard for a while.” Rafe sighed. “And his coping mechanism is more and more coke. We better check on Ganz if it gets too quiet in there. And make sure he eats something when Henny brings us food. But till then, listen up everyone. I thought it might be simpler if we could bring Zou to us rather than go after him. If the logistics can be managed, I’d like him to get an invitation to an exclusive party when he arrives in the city. Something so bloody tempting he can’t refuse: celebrities, intimate venue, lots of women, gambling.” Dropping into a chair, Rafe stretched out his legs. “What do you think? We could use one of Dao’s boutique hotels. Or, if that’s too close a connection, we could rent one of the smaller embassies for the night. There’s probably a couple that wouldn’t turn down a few mil for a social event.”

  Webster turned, a terminal cable in his hand. “I suggest a party host from Dubai, preferably a banker. There’s time to fly someone in. My friend in Dubai has lists on top of lists of money-laundering financiers available for a price. And since we haven’t been able to crack Zou’s accounts in Dubai, he’d be more apt to trust an invitation from an Emirate banker.”

  “Call your friend,” Rafe said. “Tell him we’ll charter a plane. But whomever he commissions has to have serious credentials: a major bank, major position, right client list, and smooth and glib would be helpful. The banker can name his price. Your friend can name his price. We’ll have an intimate little party: good music, flashy women, roulette, and a super clean hit with only a few people involved. Fucking nirvana.”

  “If Zou takes the bait,” Carlos murmured.

  “We could add some celebrity pussy to our guest list. A singer, film star, fucking tennis or golf star. There must be someone who gives Zou a hard-on. Find out and book them for the party.”

  “Let me check with a contact in Macao,” Leo said. “Every major celebrity plays there. Someone might remember whether Zou has lusted after any particular lady.”

  “Whomever we book only has to sing or look pretty, smile, whatever. We just need her as enticement. She might have to send a couple extra smiles Zou’s way once he gets there, but that’s it. She’d have protection, handlers, bodyguards. Jesus fucking Christ,” Rafe said, shoving upright in his chair. “I’m getting super hyped. We might be able to do this with a minimum of bloodshed.”

  “And you’d get to fly to San Francisco sooner rather than later,” Simon said.

  Rafe smiled. “Yeah, wouldn’t that be grand?”

  Henny’s heavy tread could be heard coming down the hall and a moment later, he threw open the door and bellowed, “First course! Ganz, get your ass in here!” He waved in four young men, three carrying trays of food, one balancing a large ice bucket of bottled beer on his head.

  Everyone sat on the floor and helped themselves to stir-fried chicken with cardamom, tiny krill simmered with coconut and crabmeat, and a jungle curry with peppercorns. All the dishes were dominated by a fierce, perfumed, heart-thumping chili heat that left them sweating and swigging beer to soak up some of the visceral fire.

  In the aftermath, while their tongues stopped throbbing and the sweat dried on their faces, they finalized the details for Zou’s party: the venue, caterers, illegal casino operator, music.

  Stretched out on the floor, Henny flexed his fingers above his head and squinted at his friends. “Remember the time we were jumped on that moonless night in Saint Moritz?” he murmured. “We were what—fourteen, fifteen? I’m in the same kind of mood. I feel like strangling someone.”

  “You’re lucky we dragged you off before the guy croaked,” Basil said. “And we were fourteen. That was the winter my mother forgot Christmas.”

  Henny snorted. “Did she ever remember? Mine didn’t.”

  “Hey, kids, we had our own Christmases after that, so chill,” Rafe said with a grin. “And Henny, sweetheart,” he added softly, “I hate to shut down all your fun, but the point of this party is for all of us to go home. So no one’s gonna get close enough to strangle anyone.”

  Henny gave him a wicked smile. “Maybe you can’t stop me.”

  “I know who can,” Rafe drawled. “One phone call to Mireille and you’re on the next flight home.”

  “Low fucking blow,” Henny grumbled.

  “Yeah, well, I like your food. So stay alive.” Rafe shot a glance at Webster, who was blowing him an air kiss, his phone to his ear. “Looks like we have clearance from our man in Dubai,” he murmured, turning his gaze on his lounging friends. “Now who wants to recruit and vet the women we need to make this party a success?”

  “Wasn’t that always your job?” Ganz said from somewhere in outer space, his eyes slits behind a curtain of black hair.

  “Not anymore,” Henny gibed, slamming Rafe for his comment about Mireille. “He’s pussy-whipped now.”

  “And damned happy to be pussy-whipped,” Rafe said, cheerful as hell. “So who’s going to line up the women?” His eyes widened briefly at the hand that was suddenly raised. “Since when?”

  Gina grinned. “Maybe I’m a switch hitter.”

  “All due respect,” Rafe said softly. “You’re not.”

  “What makes you think you know everything about me?”

  “Sorry, my mistake.” Although he knew pretty much everything there was to know about Gina after all their no-holds-barred fucking. “I’ll get a list of agencies from Dao,” he said. “Any preferences on nationality?”

  Chapter 24

  An hour later, Ganz had tapped Zou’s new phone and between the satellite surveillance and cell monitoring, Zou was being tracked to a high-tech inch. Alexei and his colleague, Dr. Oren, arrived soon after, having come in on a transport plane with a fully equipped operating room and medical staff. Dao had arranged for the medical staff to stay at one of her apartments near the small museum that would serve as their party venue.

  The museum had the virtue of being semi-isolated within the urban jungle of Bangkok. Also, everyone had agreed that an embassy might remind Zou of untrustworthy political alliances. With bribery a cardinal rule of business in Bangkok, he was aware that his whereabouts would fetch a good price from his enemies.

  Two days later, as Zou’s journey came to an end at a warehouse near the Noi Canal, the party plans were complete, the banker from Dubai had been given his need-to-know instructions, and Dao’s spies had reported back. Zou’s troops were bivouacked at the warehouse; Zou had taken up residence in a luxury apartment owned by a wealthy Chinese casino owner. The man was not only a relative, but Zou was one of his investors. And casinos were illegal in Thailand, so the pay-to-play policy of the police department allowed hundreds of gambling establishments in Bangkok alone to thrive.

  Shortly after he’d settled in, Zou took the elevator downstairs to a private—code for: only those who could afford it were admitted—casino. Before long, he was joined at the roulette table by a banker from Dubai who started having a run of good luck. They exchanged pleasantries between spins of the wheel: weather, horse racing, the banker’s heavy schedule of client meetings, the number of beautiful women accompanying him tonight—mentioned with a wink and a smile.

  A brief twenty minutes later, the banker finished his drink. “Won enough for tonight,” he said, handing his glass off without looking. “Now for some fun.” Coming to his feet, he took a business card from his jacket pocket, handed it to Zou, and told him if he was ever interested in banking in Dubai to give him a call. Waving over the five women who’d accompanied him to the club, he’d turned back to Zou and said, almost as an afterthought, “Care to have dinner with us?” One thing led to another, he reported to Carlos the next morning; everyone had a good time. Z
ou had set up an account at his bank in Dubai and it was a go on Zou’s party invitation.

  The following evening, dressed in jeans, T-shirts, Kevlar vests, boots for running, and armed, Rafe and Gina stood next to each other, looking through a two-way mirror that had—for a substantial remit—been installed in the foyer of the museum that afternoon. The elaborate, gilded frame sparkled under the chandelier lights, the mirror shimmering in the lucent glow while the two people behind the glass watched a parade of beautifully dressed and coiffed women walking in through the open entrance doors.

  “Kudos, babe,” Rafe said, smiling. “You did good. Every single lady is dazzling.”

  “And classy,” Gina noted. “That’s where a woman’s eye comes in. Men always zero in on big boobs.”

  Rafe shot a sideways glance downward at her Kevlar-covered breasts. “Like yours.”

  “I rest my case,” she said drily.

  He grinned. “Men are such animals.”

  She gave him a disgruntled look. “Are we done with this?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Rafe said, still grinning. “You were saying?”

  “I was saying I wanted the whole package. Stylish, not just a sex bomb.”

  “You nailed it then—very nice packages.”

  But his voice was casual, Gina noted. He could have been talking about a suit or a car. This wasn’t the Rafe who’d always looked at a woman with fucking on his mind.

  “Once Zou arrives,” Rafe said, interrupting her musing, “Saxe will escort him into the roulette room. Shouldn’t be a problem. Money before pleasure for Zou. Then the ladies will be moved to the atrium so they’re out of the firing line—although ostensibly they’ll be escorted there to enjoy the music until Zou’s finished gambling. Zou sits down at the roulette table, is offered a drink, we wait while it’s made, and once he has the glass in his hand, it’s game on. Did I leave anything out?”

  She gave him a sideways glance. “You left out the part about him coming in here with an armed escort.”

  He flipped her a look. “I told you our sniper from Shanghai showed up this afternoon, right?”