***
“You have started without me,” Mehmeti said. In his peripheral vision, Kenny watched a waiter bring a chair for Mehmeti to sit on. Another waiter brought him a glass of dark liquid. Mehmeti crossed his legs at the knee.
Kenny’s body tensed, but he kept his eyes on Maya, letting the beauty of her orgasm calm him and help him focus on the job at hand.
He could tell when she came back to herself. She lifted her head and looked at Kenny, a filthy smile on her face. He recognized that look. It was the one she gave her viewers after a show, just before she signed off. He marveled again at how natural this all came to her.
He reluctantly took his hand from between her legs and helped her straighten her dress. When they turned to Mehmeti, Kenny stuck the fingers he’d buried inside Maya into his mouth and sucked her essence from her digits. She tasted wonderful.
He could tell by the smile that spread over Mehmeti’s face that he enjoyed the sight. Maya pressed herself against Kenny’s side and laid her head onto his shoulder.
“I am already so pleased,” Mehmeti said, his eyes feasting on her.
“I aim to please,” Maya said.
“Yes,” Mehmeti said hungrily. “I’ve noticed.” He obscenely adjusted his erection.
“May I touch you?” Mehmeti asked.
Kenny’s mouth turned down into a frown and his fists clenched.
“No,” Maya said, squeezing his bicep reassuringly. “You haven’t paid for that. And my boyfriend is very,” she turned to him, kissing his cheek sweetly, “possessive.”
There was a tense moment of silence and Kenny’s body coiled tightly in preparation for any kind of response. But then Mehmeti burst into laughter and turned to his guards. “Do you see?” He asked them. “She is perfect.”
Maya turned her head and smiled at the mobster.
He licked his lips at her. “Maybe next time the three of us,” he said and turned to Kenny, licking his lips again, “Can come to some agreement?”
Maya leaned forward, catching Mehmeti’s gaze again with her chest. She grasped her champagne flute. They all watched as her soft lips rested on the glass and she took a small sip. She kept her eyes on Mehmeti, flirty and distracting. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Maya said. “One night at a time.”
Mehmeti nodded and sipped his own drink.
“Yes,” he breathed, his eyes trained on her mouth. “We can stay here, if you would like. Or we can go to my private rooms.”
This was it, Kenny thought to himself, working not to show his interest. Chanté hadn’t been able to hack into Mehmeti’s computer remotely. They needed to locate his computer and Asif’s intel from earlier in the day indicated that the most likely place for it to be was in his private rooms on the fifth floor, the most heavily guarded floor of the entire building.
“Well, that’s up to you,” Maya said, her hand rubbing across Kenny’s chest. “You’ve paid all of this money to watch us fuck,” Mehmeti’s body jumped at the word, “Do you want to share that with everyone here? Or are you going to be selfish?” She whispered the last word against Kenny’s jaw before nipping at him gently.
Mehmeti adjusted his erection again before standing up quickly and heading back toward the elevator without a word.
They both turned to watch him, confused.
“Please,” the guard said. “Follow me.”
They stood from the couch and Kenny grasped Maya’s hand.
As they walked out of the room, he cut his eyes to look at the couch where Monica, Lane and Kierra had been sitting. When he looked, there was only Kierra straddling Lane’s lap. They were staring at one another lovingly, but Lane’s eyes moved to Kenny’s. His nod was so small it would have been imperceptible.
Maya whispered to him, “I thought he’d be taller.”
Kenny turned to her, a startled smile forming on his lips. She smiled up at him and winked.
He squeezed her hand in his.
Lamont
Lamont hated clubs. He had never been the out all night at a nightclub kind of person. His ex always said he was too serious for that. And he was. His grandmother had worked herself to the bone to get him through high school and into college. She’d taken him as far as she could and had always made clear that he would have to take himself the rest of the way – with her cheering him on from afar, of course.
While his friends were out getting drunk and skipping classes and failing exams, Lamont had been in the library. When he joined the ATF it had been the same. While his recruitment class had been out drinking and fucking each other in the name of bonding and good morale, Lamont had been memorizing his new recruit manual cover-to-cover. It might not have made him the most popular person, but it had made him damn good at his job.
He tried to remind himself of that. Even though the past week had felt like a terrible nightmare where no one was who they seemed to be – because they hadn’t been – he was still a damn good detective. And he had a job to do.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
He turned and blinked at the woman standing next to him at the bar. He hadn’t noticed her before; he was too busy scanning the crowd for any sign of Travis Keeler. But he smiled down at her and shook his head, lifting the glass of tonic water in his hand. “Thanks, but I’m okay.”
She frowned slightly. “What about my boyfriend?” She tipped her head to the left and he followed the movement.
The girl was definitely no more than five feet tall and she was wearing sky high heels so Lamont’s eyes widened to saucers when he spotted the tall, round man with a handlebar mustache dressed in head-to-toe leather staring at them. He was clutching a bottle of beer in one hand and had looped the thumb of the other through a belt loop on his leather trousers. Lamont turned back to look at her to confirm that yes, she was dressed in Sailor Moon cosplay. They were an odd pair.
“Um,” he started, genuinely at a loss for words.
She took that moment of hesitation as an invitation and leaned into him. “We’re a great time,” she promised with a dirty smile on her face.
Lamont laughed. This was another reason he didn’t like clubs. There was something about strangers propositioning him that turned him right off. And this was the second time in two weeks he’d had to let himself be propositioned in a nightclub to catch a criminal. Not for the first time since his ex had kicked him out of their house, he wondered if it was time to retire and do something different with his life. Weren’t these signs that it was time for him to move on?
“I bet you are,” he said to the girl. “But I’m actually waiting for someone.”
She frowned slightly but then rallied, trailing a hand over the hair on his forearm. “Well if you and your someone are looking for a couple of someones… Like I said we’re-”
“A great time,” Lamont finished for her. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You do that.”
Lamont watched as she tottered away on her platform heels to rejoin her boyfriend. He watched as the man had to nearly double over to kiss her in greeting. And then he watched as they both turned their attention back to him to smile and wave.
He smiled and waved back. “Get me the fuck out of here,” he whispered to himself through clenched teeth.
His eyes caught on sandy brown hair and he pushed away from the bar without a second thought.
He moved through the crowd carefully, without watching where he was going. He could almost hear his covert operations instructor yelling at him, “You know how many ops tank because some idiot takes their eyes off the mark?” Lamont had actually never gotten a solid figure on that, but he still took the advice to heart and kept Travis Keeler in his sight. The man was milling at the edges of the dance floor and he seemed to be waiting for something. Based on the intel they’d gathered from Ruiz’s interrogations so far, they knew that Travis had been the one to broker the deal between the Pendleton Patriots and the Albanian mob. He was connected, but just how connected? That remained to be seen.<
br />
Lamont moved to a hidden alcove under the stairs to watch and wait. It only took a few minutes before a man who was clearly part of security approached Keeler. Lamont held his breath. If they headed upstairs, he was screwed. He’d been watching the security guards police elevator access for half an hour. As far as he could tell, passage required at least two people and possibly a special wristband. He wasn’t sure how the others had gotten upstairs but given Kierra’s lack of clothing, Lamont assumed they’d stumbled upon an unadvertised third way to go to the more private areas of the club. And he was no Kierra. Or Maya. Or Lane for that matter.
He watched as the security guard led Keeler away from the elevator down a hallway that Asif confirmed led to the bathrooms and then beyond that the storage rooms. Lamont exhaled. He could work with this. They had prepared for this.
“They’re heading back,” he said.
“Roger that,” Asif’s voice filtered through his earpiece.
“What?”
Lamont turned and jumped, staring at two women slunk so far under the alcove that he hadn’t seen them.
“Shit, I didn’t see you there,” Lamont breathed.
One of the women shrugged and moaned. Lamont backed away apologetically.
“Hey, you’re welcome to join us,” the other woman called after him.
He turned on a sigh and just saw Keeler’s head disappear down the hallway. All he wanted to do was get Keeler and take him back to Ohio. He wasn’t a spy and he was more than ready to get this operation over with and go back to his real life. Because this spy shit had been nothing but trouble.
But as he pushed through the crowded dance floor his mind suddenly reminded him of a sardonic grin and long eyelashes and perfectly tailored slacks. And a promise he knew he couldn’t keep.
“There’s an office at the end of the hallway,” Asif was saying in his ear. “I’m pretty sure that’s where they’ve gone.”
Lamont was standing casually near the mouth of the hallway, waiting. He would have loved nothing more than to rush into the back office and take Keeler down, but they were outnumbered and Monica hadn’t given him the signal yet. This operation was a finely, albeit thinly, arranged web. Now that he’d found Keeler he just needed to keep an eye on him and stay out of his line of sight. If he was spotted before everyone was in place they could all miss their chance to bring down Mehmeti’s operation.
“Can you move your probe there?”
“How are the drinks?” Asif asked in response.
Lamont exhaled. “Don’t chatter over the connection. I don’t want people thinking I’m talking to myself.”
“Everyone in that club is probably flying higher than a kite right now. Who cares what they think?”
Lamont turned to look out at the club. The music was something bass heavy and annoying in its persistent thumping beat. All around him he saw bodies grinding against each other, mostly on purpose. His eyes caught on the girl from the bar and her hulk of a boyfriend. They waved. Lamont smiled and waved back, but quickly looked away, hoping that they didn’t take that as an invitation to come and talk to him. Just as the thought crossed his mind, he watched as they put down their drinks on the bar and seemed determined to do just that.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
And then they stopped.
“Looks like you have two admirers,” Monica whispered into his ear as she pressed her body against his side.
Lamont’s mouth fell open as he looked up at her. He was not into women at all, but if he were, she would be his type. Tall with a strong jaw and a severe mouth that never seemed to smile except when she was looking at her husband or girlfriend. Tonight, she looked amazing in a kind of tailored suit in the darkest black with a crisp white shirt and long black tie.
“They’re just horny,” Lamont said.
Monica’s smile was almost imperceptible. “If my husband were here, he would say, ‘Aren’t we all?’” She asked the question in a decent imitation of Lane’s accent.
Lamont tilted his head trying, not for the first time, to work her out. After working with Lane to bring down the Pendleton Patriots, he thought he understood the man, even if he was still adjusting to using his correct name. But the women in Lane’s life, he didn’t get.
“And what would Kierra say to that?” Lamont asked.
Now Monica’s smile was big and bright enough to be seen. Monica leaned forward and brushed her mouth against his cheek. “She would be the reason Lane said that. Now let’s go get your man.”
Lamont raised his eyebrows at her as she straightened. “You’re going to help me? I thought you were going to stay upstairs near Mehmeti.”
“There’s only one way for us out of here and that’s through that door,” she said indicating the entrance. “Every other exit is heavily guarded by a mountain with a gun.”
Lamont laughed.
“Kenny and Lane will keep Maya safe,” she said even though he could see some conflict in her eyes. “I’m here to make sure that our exit route is clear when it needs to be. And that means getting your rogue agent and clearing a path.”
“Sounds like almost a plan.”
Monica smiled at him. “Almost,” she said before kissing him.
He started and tried to push her away. “Shut up. It’s Keeler,” she whispered against his lips. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his target walk directly past him. He seemed calmer than he had earlier, relaxed and sauntering. Whatever had happened in that back room had been good for him, which meant that it was bad for Lamont. But the good news was that with Keeler happy, he was also sloppy. He’d walked right past Lamont without noticing him, a man he’d sat across a desk from for almost a year. He settled into a VIP booth across the dance floor. Lamont guessed that, while it might not be easy, the mission to bring down his mole might just go smoother than he’d thought. Thanks in no small part to Monica.
As their lips parted, he looked at her seriously. “What do you need me to do, boss?”
Monica nodded. “Asif,” she said. “Did you come up with a distraction?”
Asif’s chuckle was almost apologetic. “A few actually.”
“Good, get ready.”
Lamont didn’t know the other man well at all, but he felt certain that he could hear the smile in his voice. “On it,” he said, quickly and efficiently.
“Now you,” she said, focusing on him, “need to go make some friends.” She tilted her head and they both turned to see the couple still staring intently and happily at him.
“Fuck,” Lamont breathed again as he began to push through the crowd. The short woman and her tall boyfriend tried in vain not to register their shock and excitement as he approached.
seventeen
There’s surprisingly little training to teach an agent how to be calm in the field. The Agency had training programs for everything else: weapons, surveillance, evasion. But none of that was any use if you couldn’t keep your brain clear when there was a gun in your face and bodyguards the size of small mountains blocking your exit. And that was the thing that mattered. That was the dividing line between a field agent and an intelligence specialist or, more often than not, someone who signed a one-hundred-page NDA and lived out the rest of their life with a great story of how they were almost a spy – a story they could never tell.
But keeping calm had never been a problem for Kenny. He was focused, efficient and effective. Those words had always been at the top of his performance reviews and he had come to take those qualities in himself for granted. Unfortunately, right now he felt none of those things. He had no coping mechanisms to calm himself, because he’d never had to even think about it before. And if he couldn’t calm himself, he, Maya and this entire mission were screwed.
He suddenly remembered a speaker from his new recruit orientation at The Agency. Most of the scheduled speakers at the three-day-long event, including Monica, had given practical and generally inspiring information about the job they were all walking blindly into. But one agen
t was on the program specifically to make them shit their pants. For his entire ten minute talk he’d basically just unbuttoned and rolled up various pieces of his clothing to show off his many scars and share war stories.
Kenny hadn’t been fazed by the increasingly gory details, but the guy next to him had excused himself to the bathroom. Kenny never saw him again. Right at the end of his speech, before he limped off stage, the old guy had leaned over the podium and whispered in a harsh voice, “None of you is as smart or capable as you think you are. The sooner you realize that, the better. And as soon as you realize that your next day isn’t a given, the more effective you’ll be in the field. We’re not meant to do this job for too long. Remember that.” Kenny had nodded sagely at that advice all of those years ago and then promptly forgotten it. But there was something about the warmth of Maya’s hand in his and her taste still lingering on his tongue that plumbed that advice from the deep recesses of his mind. And he was scared shitless.
As if she knew that he was silently freaking out, she moved in front of him as soon as they’d stepped onto the elevator, standing between him and the bodyguard who was currently escorting them upstairs to Joseph Mehmeti’s private quarters. They didn’t know what they would find there and Kenny needed to think. And because she really was a natural at this, Maya leaned back against him and began to chatter at the bodyguard, who didn’t answer her. She pulled all of the focus onto herself.
The elevator ride was no more than a handful of seconds but Maya gave Kenny the space to reset and focus. She pressed her ass into his groin, squeezed his hands in hers. He breathed in the floral scent of her hair and he found his center: her. He wondered if this was what Monica and Lane felt when they were in the field together. Did they remind each other that there was more than this job? Did they provide each other with a point of focus; a port in the storm where the stakes were always clear? If so, he thought he finally understood. He dipped his head to place a small kiss behind her left ear. She kept talking to the bodyguard about eyeshadow on camera, but she squeezed his hands.
Private Eye Page 27
