Undercover Lover

by Tibby Armstrong

  “We’ll be back late. Don’t wait up,” he said from the doorway.

  “Uh huh,” she breathed, and stared, unseeing, at the pages of her book.

  The hem of her skirt peeked from under her bathrobe as she shifted her legs. His eyes narrowed, but he stepped into the hall after Simon.

  “You can’t go,” his second said.

  “I know.” Günter closed his eyes and mentally rearranged the evening’s logistics.

  Things had been so much easier when he’d been paid to follow Jenny. She’d never gotten into real trouble. Now? It seemed as if he spent his life chasing her from one scrape to the next.

  “Want me to go it alone?” Simon asked as they made their way to the lift.

  Pressing the call button, Günter expelled a breath. “I’m going to wring her bloody neck.”

  “No. No homicide yet,” Simon teased. “Follow her then kill her. Didn’t 5 teach you anything?”

  “She’ll not sit down for a month of Sundays when I’m finished with her.”

  Simon snorted. “I always took you for a kinky bastard.”

  Günter worked his jaw from side to side and tried not to give anything away in his expression.

  “Get going,” he said to Simon as the elevator doors opened. “I’ll follow her.”

  Hiding in the service corridor, he waited five minutes before a flushed and excited Jenny slipped from their hotel suite. Whatever she’d planned required six-inch heels, lock picks, a thumb drive and a disposable camera she’d purchased earlier today at the gift shop.

  He took in her flirty dress with its lightly ruffled hem. The lock picks said she planned to do a little breaking and entering, but the outfit said she had partying on her mind. Confused, he followed her as she got into a taxi.

  “Bugger,” he said, and flagged down another black car.

  Thirty minutes later he watched from the shadows as she disappeared into a swank hotel in Kensington. Creeping forward, he examined the basement window and determined it too small for him to pass through.

  Rickety and splintered, an old service door presented the perfect place from which he could perform a little B&E of his own. One good push of his shoulder separated the rusty screws of the lock from the wood.

  The grinding sound of a service lift made him pause as he propped the door shut behind him. He opened his cell and texted the address to Simon.

  What the fuck is she doing here? he texted.

  It took Simon only three minutes to crack the hotel’s guest list. The answer—Munson. Room 12—flashed bleakly on Günter’s screen.

  His heart clenched. Given the way Jenny had dressed, she fully expected to meet the man here. Beyond worries for her safety, an insidious whisper slid through his brain. Would she really fuck the man for information? Could she take their game so far? So low?

  The rational part of him screamed a denial. Not his Jenny. The primal part of him didn’t care. He wanted to see Munson dead and Jenny under lock and key. He’d hold her prisoner until she promised herself to him. Only him. Once and for all.

  Navigating the dark, damp basement he managed not to trip over a bucket as he found the glowing call buttons to the service lift. Waiting was the most difficult—knowing she could be getting into more trouble than even he could get her out of at any moment.

  To think she’d looked him in the eye and promised not to go out. He’d known she’d disobeyed him when he’d smelled cigarette smoke and stale alcohol in her hair as she’d hugged him this morning—had been biding his time before confronting her.

  The lift creaked open and Günter slid to the side, weapon drawn. A weak bulb illuminated chipped white enamel paint. He grunted. For a swank hotel the disrepair of the behind-the-scenes areas left a lot to be desired.

  Thinking of Munson pawing at her breasts—or worse—he didn’t care if he blew their cover, he was getting her out of there. Slipping from the elevator, he strode confidently down the hall. First rule—always look like you belong. It could buy you time if nothing else. Trying the knob, he found it open and raised his brows. Had she wanted someone to be able to find her?

  “It’s Munson’s room,” she said, turning from rifling through a console when he walked in.

  She’d expected him?

  The pulse fluttering at the column of her neck showcased her fear, as she pointed toward an unconscious Munson. Günter looked from the half-empty drink to the face of his imagined adversary, and snorted. She’d drugged him.

  He stood back and swept out his arm. Now that Jenny’d done the leg work, she might as well do the snooping. A three-room suite—living area, bath and bedroom beckoned. Deco elegance buoyed with jazz-era art gave an air of prohibition era speakeasy. The room smelled of lime aftershave and was too warm.

  A laptop blinked softly on one desk. Gloves still on, Jenny popped it open and fished a USB drive from her coat pocket. A password screen flickered to life and she sighed.

  Günter hovered over her shoulder as she tried WhiteTiger. Then Bengal. Neither worked. She tried Iniquity and he realized she must’ve met Munson at the gambling den again last night. When that password didn’t work either she shook her head and tried the name of a model the man was known to have taken up with recently. When the screen flashed and opened the desktop to her, Günter felt her stunned relief.

  “Men are so predictable,” she said.

  He straightened at the remark, remembering how she’d cracked his password as well. “I’m hardly predictable.”

  “Shush.” She waved a hand at him.

  The files and email on the laptop were nothing to speak of—just some correspondence about business dealings. Apparently he had real estate holdings in Belgium and Paris. He also owned race horses and had played polo with one of the European royals last week. His browser revealed a love of clothes shopping and online betting.

  A folder marked London almost escaped her notice. Günter was about to point it out when she clicked on it and opened one of the .jpgs it contained. What the graphic revealed took his breath away—and hers, judging from her shallow gasp. With shaking fingers she copied the entire folder to the thumb drive and pocketed it. Logging off the laptop, she snicked the lid shut.

  No doubt about it. Given the information on that drive, if they were caught in this room they’d both be shot and dumped in the Thames.

  “You need to undress him,” Jenny said. “Put him in bed. I’ll mess up the covers.”

  Günter pursed his lips but did as she bid. By the time the man woke up with a bad headache and spied the empty bottle of gin, he’d figure he’d had the time of his life. Even if he couldn’t remember a minute of it.

  On their way back to the hotel every noise and motion—each footstep, car tire and creaking doorway—had her jumping. Heated breath puffed from her open mouth, adding focused streams of moisture to the winter fog. Bright light at the Ritz beckoned and her footsteps quickened—Touch the light and you’re safe, he could almost feel her thinking.

  Reaching for her wrist, he drew her back.

  “Slowly,” he warned. “You were out for shagging, not espionage.”

  When she looked at him blankly, he made a decision. He needed to get her upstairs in a way that made that panicked look on her face believable given the night she’d supposedly had. Hand caressing her throat, he lowered his head to whisper against her lips, “Time to pay for your sins.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Gun?” Simon’s whisper made Jenny jump.

  They’d reached the suite door and Günter paused in unlocking it.

  “Thank God,” Günter said, and fished in Jenny’s pocket for the drive. “You know where to take this.”

  Simon looked at the tiny red drive in his hand and frowned at Günter. “I can’t. Meeting in two hours. That’s what I’m back here to tell you.”

  “This is more important.”

  “More important than a meeting with Nick Teso?”

  Günter yanked Jenny along with him, away from the do
or to the suite.

  “What?” he asked, looking over Simon’s shoulder as they stood at the end of the hall.

  Nick Teso, Jenny knew, was reported to be second-in-command to the White Tiger. If they’d gotten that far, they were one bite from the main course.

  “A man approached me tonight. Said it was a one-time-only offer.”

  “Who was it?”

  Simon shook his head. “I’ve never seen his dossier. Had a French accent I think.”

  “I’ll go,” Günter replied.

  “They said we had to bring Jenny.” Simon looked at her. Worried. “They want assurances…and a million pounds.”

  “A million pounds?” Sure, she could get it, but not tonight.

  Simon looked thoughtful. “They’ll take an I.O.U. I think.”

  Ice dropped into the machine behind the service door, making them all jump.

  “Christ.” Günter breathed the word and raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t think we should fly this one blind.”

  “I’ll get this—whatever it is,” Simon held up the drive, “to 5. I know where you’re headed. I’ll get backup in case anything goes down.”

  “They just want to talk you think?” Günter rubbed at the back of his neck and tilted his head to look at Simon.

  “Couldn’t really say on this one, Gun.”

  “Okay. Fine. Do what you have to do,” Günter agreed.

  Simon nodded and started to walk away.

  “But, Simon?”

  Günter’s second turned back.

  “Be discreet. I don’t want to blow this whole thing with party lights and trigger-happy cops.”

  A thumbs-up signaled Simon’s understanding, and Jenny watched his retreating back with an eerie feeling—as if she’d never lay eyes on him again.

  Günter turned to her and she looked up.

  “Ready for your closeup?” he asked.

  “I thought we didn’t have time…”

  He flicked his gaze from her to their hotel room door. “I think we need the distraction, and in case we were seen leaving Munson’s hotel together we need to make my catching you believable.”

  Wide-eyed, heart pounding, she swallowed hard.

  “Unless you don’t want to…” he offered, expression darkening with concern as he searched her face.

  Oh, she wanted to…

  “Please,” was all she said.

  “Do better than that, sunshine, or I’m not touching you.” He stepped in closer.

  “Please let them watch you…and me.”

  He inhaled through his nostrils.

  “It’s going to be harsh,” he said.

  “Please.” This time the word came out on a whimper.

  Quick as a snake, he grabbed her arm and dragged her down the hallway with him.

  Twisting away, she made it halfway down the hall before he caught her and threw her over his shoulder. A little scream escaped her and he slapped her bottom. Hard.

  “My brother will have your ass in a sling,” she yelled, playing the incensed prima donna as he opened the door.

  “The only ass going into a sling tonight, sweetheart, is yours.”

  He threw her into a chair and unbuckled his belt. She stared up at him, more than a little in awe of how he towered above her.

  Gaze thunderous, jaw working as if he chewed glass, he said, “Someday you’re going to push me too far. I can’t believe you fucked that ape.”

  “You’re not my keeper.” She shook the curls out of her eyes. “I employ you. I can fuck whomever I please.”

  The statement held echoes of their argument several weeks back. His eyes darkened. A little gasp escaped her lips when he yanked her from the chair and wound his hand in her hair.

  Pulling her head back, he asked, “What did I say to you earlier tonight?”

  “You said to stay in the room while you went out to jack off with your bottom boy.”

  The snarl on his face seemed so sincere, she struggled to get out of his grasp even as adrenaline kicked her arousal into high gear. Lust pooled in her groin and hardened her nipples until they ached against the confinement of her bra.

  He knew she liked it rough. Wanted it just like this. When he glanced over his shoulder, she knew he looked for their angle vis-à-vis the surveillance equipment in the room. He might be sincerely angry with her for her disobedience, but this was still a game. He’d never play at hurting her unless he knew she enjoyed the scare. She’d asked him for this.

  What would he do? How would he do it? Those unknowns didn’t frighten so much as excite her, because anything he did to her body right now had to feel oh so good.

  “You enjoy making me punish you,” he said, cruel lips curling as he gave her a little shake. “Don’t you?”

  A sharp inhale stung her nostrils as the game took on a surreal quality. Her body craved the danger even as her mind scrambled to find a way to placate her master.

  “Answer me,” he said with a low growl, and then whispered, nuzzling her ear, “If you say no, we continue.”

  The choice surprised her and her head cleared. She really did have a say in this. He’d never take that away from her. A burst of giddy happiness filled her chest.

  Etching defiance into her gaze, she tossed her head back to meet his eyes and invited him to do his worst. “No. I enjoy making you work for a living.”

  “Someday,” he said, grabbing both her wrists and pinning them to the small of her back, “you’re going to regret that smart mouth of yours.”

  So you keep telling me, she wanted to say to goad him into madness, but she knew their little play called for something more convincing for their audience. So, instead, she fought. Twisting around, she brought a bare foot against his shin and tried to break free of his grip. When that didn’t work, she tried screaming, but he captured her mouth and smothered the sound with a grinding kiss.

  A rending tear signaled she’d damaged his jacket, and she froze like a scared rabbit, her mind comprehending what this meant for their game. The set of his jaw told her he’d gone as deep as she when he spun her around to face the mirror above the fireplace and shredded the fabric of her dress down the front—pulling both it and her jacket off in one yank.

  “You bastard.” She gasped for air and renewed her manufactured struggles.

  With each moment that passed, their game became more real to her. Liquid heat soaked her pussy as she thrust her ass hard against his cock, desperate to free herself so she could run… So he could chase her… So he could take her down.

  Sweat slicked his palms and his hand slipped from her wrist. She brought back her elbow and delivered a blow to his solar plexus that left him gasping while she ran to the bedroom. Knowing if she reached it before him she’d have to lock the door and wait out their evening alone, she tripped deliberately and fell to her knees on a blood-red area rug. Just as she scrambled to her feet, he was upon her, pulling her by her hair and throwing her face first over the back of a settee.

  She kicked back with her legs, but he grabbed her by the ankles and looped the shredded fabric of her dress around them to bind them together. Twisting, she attempted to right herself, but he pressed down until she whimpered beneath him. He lessened the pressure but didn’t change his position.

  Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he raised her head so she had to look him in the eye. Color mottled his cheeks, sparks of primal energy danced in his eyes. Blood dribbled from his lip where she’d raked him with a nail, and his hair swayed in a curtain around his face.

  “I’m going to fuck you,” he said. “And you’re going to like it.”

  Breath harsh in her ear, he fumbled between them until he found the tear he’d created in what remained of her dress. With a twist of his fingers, he jerked the fabric from her. Cool air met her heated flesh when he stood to deliver a series of ferocious spanks to her exposed backside.

  Jenny bent her legs at the knees in a halfhearted attempt to block the stinging punishment. Heat flooded her pussy wi
th pleasure as each jolting blow lifted her cheeks in what she knew amounted to a jiggling, libidinous display. A particularly solid smack made her bolt upward, only to find Günter’s hand pressing her down.

  She sobbed something incoherent into a raw silk throw pillow. He paused to massage her sore flesh and she sighed, glad for a momentary respite as tears flowed freely—a welcome release she could have kissed him for giving her.

  The sound of his zipper brought her back to the moment and she surged upright, managing a toppling flight that unwound the dress fabric from her feet and had him grabbing at her in surprise.

  He jerked her to him before raising his other hand to her throat in a caress she knew looked lethal for all its gentleness. She swallowed against his palm and held his gaze as she took in oxygen with nostril-flaring breaths.

  “Don’t,” she pleaded with a shake of her head, playing the part and begging him with her eyes not to believe a word she said.

  “Don’t?” he asked, backing her up with a tiny increase of the pressure of his hand along her jaw. “Don’t?”

  “Don’t,” she sobbed, and had no trouble summoning the cleansing tears she knew were required at such a moment.

  He lowered his mouth to her ear and tilted her neck to one side with the pressure of his thumb.

  “Say don’t please and it stops,” he breathed before nipping her fleshy lobe and throwing her over the arm of the couch. Louder, he said, “You should have thought about don’t long before this, doll.”

  Jenny had no time or energy to struggle before he gripped her hips and teased her wetness with the head of his cock. Finding her obviously ready he plunged into her—filling and stretching her in one glorious stroke that lifted her off her toes and sent her slamming forward. Screaming in pleasure, she dug her fingers into the sofa cushion in a vain attempt to keep herself from sliding out of his grasp. His fingers adjusted around her hips, gripping tight enough to leave marks.

  Cushions tumbled off the sofa and pillows followed in their wake as Günter’s pace pushed her to the brink of orgasm—his cock filling her and retreating with a speed that sent shock waves through her clenching sheath. Knowing she’d never be able to hold back the cries of pleasure building within her chest, she scrabbled for something—anything—to gain purchase against and, finding the top of the wooden sofa frame, she pulled. He lost his hold and she twisted away to land on her belly on the floor.