by Amey Zeigler
His fingers glided strong across her back, skin against skin. He leaned to whisper in her ear. “You are really tense.”
Goosebumps attacked her skin, her senses alerted. Andy controlled her breathing, her body trembling. Each stroke aroused her senses. His fingers worked through the tension in her shoulders, easing down the sides of her back, dangerously near her breasts.
“The stress has been too much.”
Christiaan worked in silence, allowing her to talk.
“Brad. And Conner, then Jack. Mr. Hershal. And Scott. I’m not sure which is the most haunting.”
Christiaan murmured something.
“I thought I was strong, that I could handle it all, but I am falling apart, Christiaan.”
Christiaan leaned over her. His lips brushed the nape of her neck, his warm breath tickling her skin. She closed her eyes against the sensation, quivering.
“Let me take this burden from you,” he murmured close enough for his lips to touch her lobe.
Andy tingled, her breath quickening. His hands continued to smooth her back, another kiss, farther down her neck, then her shoulders. Andy swallowed, struggling to maintain her control.
His hand slid near her breast as he easily flipped her over, the robe falling loosely across her chest. He held her under her neck on top of his knees. She basked in his gaze as he stared down at her. His eyes glowed.
As he brought her close to him, she slid an arm around his neck, crushing herself against him. His lips brush hers; he closed his eyes taking the smallest kiss on her upper lip. Then kissed her again, sending chills to her every extremity.
Some part of her wanted to give Christiaan everything. Let him examine all of her. His hands continued to stoke her back. His breath intensified with each kiss.
“What was on the yellow sticky?” he asked. He held her lips against his.
Lips pulsing, hungering for more, Andy knelt, her robe slid, exposing her shoulders, their legs intertwined. His hands caressed her neck, her exposed shoulders. Andy half hoped the robe would fall.
“A name,” she said, sliding her fingers through his hair before kissing him again. “He called me.”
“Number?” One hand held her against him, while the other leaned back.
Andy leaned back with him, her mouth never leaving his. “On my phone.”
He broke from kissing long enough to say, “Good.” Then letting her rest on top of him, massaged her back again, holding her into him. “Name?”
“Juan Martinez.”
His fingers continued up her back, still kissing, then stroked her neck, firmly at first.
Then his fingers held her neck. Then nothing.
Chapter Twelve
Smoke rose from the tables clouding the room in a veritable haze. The music was loud, but the man entering the lounge liked it loud.
His white linen suit pants and large floral shirt almost allowed him to blend in with the other cruisers. It fit his rather large physique. His arms were tanned from the last week in the sweltering open water. This was the first time he ventured into the theatre to make a connection with his mark.
A seating host approached him. “Do you need a table, sir?”
“For one, please.”
“This way.” The man pointed to rows of seats with small tables.
Christiaan sat at a table in the audience.
His mind flicked back to Andy. Regret was not an emotion he was often familiar with, but for some reason, he had a soft spot for her. The sleeping grip wasn’t his first choice, just the most convenient.
Christiaan imagined her waking after a ten hour rest the grip induces, disoriented, alone. She’d understand. He had to do it. He probably saved her life. This was no place for an amateur. She served her purpose back in the States. He left her money, her bag. Hopefully, she was smart enough to just take herself out of the game, go somewhere and start again, free from Tyrone and his gang. Free from him.
They were getting close. Too close. He didn’t want to admit to himself just how close he’d come to her. The memory of her kisses played on his lips, his biggest regret.
He picked up a fork and tapped the handle on the table thoughtfully. There were a few minutes before the show began, he could unwind.
Maybe if they weren’t working on a case, if they’d just met as strangers somewhere at an ice rink. He’d ask for her number. They would’ve flirted a bit.
Of course, if she was just a normal person, he probably wouldn’t have found her so attractive. They understood one another, and that scared him. And for some reason, a reason he could not fathom, she trusted him. He craved her trust.
Wanting her was dangerous. She was dangerous to him, and she jeopardized his career. Their closeness jeopardized everything he’d worked for the last few years. He couldn’t throw it all away.
He clenched his jaw, staring at the fork, which he was pounding mercilessly into the table, leaving divots in the wood. It could never be. No matter how much he wanted her. Work came first. It always came first. Whenever he got close to someone, bad things happened.
What was Andy doing now, he wondered. She was mad at him, of course. Oh well, she’d never find out who he really was anyway. And he’d go his way, and they’d never to meet again. An unfamiliar feeling crept in his heart. He didn’t take time to label it, shoving it away.
The music grew louder, the lights illuminated the stage. This was what he needed. A new task.
In Boston, he’d stolen Andy’s phone. Still, a week later, Juan hadn’t answered any of his phone calls. He finally asked for a call tracer from his connections. Though they couldn’t find a name directly, they found it belonged to Mexico City. Too many people lived in Mexico City. He had to try a different angle: social media. At last he found a girl who might know him. A girl Christiaan planned to get acquainted with after this show. Totally routine job, get in, get information, get out.
Curtains parted. Semi-clothed ladies danced in sequined outfits, feathers in their head pieces fluttering with each step, accentuating the movement. Christiaan searched among the dancers hoping to catch the eye of a young dark-haired girl—his mark.
The girls marched downstage, parting in the middle and forming a line across the stage, moving in time with the music.
Christiaan scanned the dancers, searching for her. He did a double take. He caught his breath.
Then his jaw dropped. A blonde smiled down on him, shimming her shoulders to the salsa tune. His surprise only lasted a split second. Then he smiled back at her, warmth rushing all through him.
Andy Baker.
****
Andy ran off stage, hot and sweaty, yet gleeful in her heart. Triumph! Christiaan’s surprised expression was worth every price she paid to be here first.
After a small breather, she rushed back on stage, adrenaline coursing through her. She refused to make eye contact with him during the second number, only scanning the crowded room over his head, teasing him. He wasn’t there for her, anyway. He wanted the dark headed girl who danced to her left.
Without meeting his gaze, she knew he watched her. His disbelieving stare gave her even more energy. Into every little hip wiggle, every dip, every cha-cha, she gave something a little special.
Music crescendoed. The finale, big finish. Pose. Wait for the lights to dim, curtain fall. Rush backstage.
The cramped dressing rooms smelled of alcohol, stale smoke, pungent stench of body odor, and cheap perfume. Fresh air was a luxury one didn’t enjoy down here. After living below decks like chattel, Andy decided her dream of going on a romantic cruise someday was ruined.
Andy removed her sequenced costume, listening to the conversation.
“Did you notice the man out there smiling at me?” bubbled an attractive petite Latina, tugging on her fishnet stockings, then moving her palms over her calves to straighten the lines. “The tall one, in front. He couldn’t keep his eyes off me. Which one of you has his table tonight?”
When dancers weren’t r
ehearsing or producing a show, they waited tables in the lounge area.
“You mean Gorgeous at table eight? I got it, Carmen,” a taller girl with a sultry voice and a thick accent added.
“Trade me?” She put on a pouty face, her red lip protruding, her dark eyes pleading. “I want to meet him.” Carmen patted her breasts, adding plastic bags to her bra, enlarging her cleavage.
“What’s it worth to you?” the taller girl asked.
“Half my tips.”
The taller woman nodded, and Carmen nearly squealed with delight.
Andy overheard the conversation while she affixed her pin-striped apron on the front of her mini-skirt. A flouncy thing with a perky petticoat underneath. Before exiting the dressing room, Andy adjusted the strap on her shoe, her face down. “Be wary of his back rubs.”
Carmen paused at the door. “What?”
Andy straightened, smiling. “Nothing.”
Carmen smiled quizzically and exited.
While the next show dazzled and amazed the audience, the hour grew later. More and more people drank more and more. Andy had the fortune to have the row of tables right behind table eight where Christiaan had chosen to sit to admire and make eyes at Carmen.
Carmen reciprocated his attention. After every order, she paused at his table, to linger and smile. Pouty lipped, voluptuous curves. She was cute.
Andy brushed behind him after Carmen left for a soda and scotch. A napkin fluttered behind Christiaan’s chair, Andy bent to pick it up, whispering in his ear.
“Not quite as sophisticated as I imagined for you, but she might be your type. Half of her boobs are fake, by the way.”
Christiaan leaned back in his chair, subtly tilting his head back. “How did you get here?”
“Ah-ah! A professional doesn’t give away her secrets.” And Andy fluttered off for a gin and tonic.
When she returned, Carmen was draped over his table, her white teeth contrasted against the dark stain of her lipstick, her legs on display. It must be so easy for him. Just smile at a girl, and she was a goner.
Maneuvering between the stadium seating tables was tricky. There was barely enough room for a person to pass through the aisle, much less room for a woman, a drink charger, and an extremely fluffy miniskirt. Andy used this to her full advantage. She bent over to give the man at table sixteen his drink, letting the ruffles of her skirt brush against Christiaan’s neck. He leaned forward in his seat toward the petite brunette. Then Carmen was called away by another customer.
Andy glanced over her shoulder to Christiaan who swiveled, giving her a raised eyebrow, his face perched on his hands.
She didn’t bother reacting. The costume accentuated her body, and she worked it to full advantage. She floated off with her charger in request of another patron. When she swept back, a piece of napkin fluttered to her. Andy caught the paper. It was almost too dark in the hall to read it, but she barely made out the words.
Back door five mins.
Andy crumpled it and stuffed it on her tray with other napkins and straw wrappers, and dumped it in the bar garbage.
“I’m going to take a breather,” she told the bartender. She left the charger at the table and headed toward the back door. Before she could get there, someone grabbed her out of the darkness.
Christiaan held her close. He smelled of fresh air. His strength surrounded her. “Meet me on the back deck.” Then his arms released her, and he was out the door.
Hitched up in five inch heels, Andy’s feet were killing her. She exited and climbed the swaying metal stairs to the main deck. She wasn’t sure if she was allowed up there and wished she’d had a change of clothing so her costume wouldn’t give her away.
It was the first time she’d breathed fresh air the whole week she’d been on the boat. And she drank it in. Compared to the noise of the lounge, the deck was quiet. The dome sky was full of stars.
Her heels made a clacking on the wooden decking as she headed stern-ward. Christiaan faced her and smiled. If she had just met him or if they had just been friends, her heart might have made a little leap when they met. But she wasn’t sure what was going on. She wanted to trust him. In her heart, deep in her heart, she hoped she could trust him, but he kept estranging her with lies. She flushed from anger.
When she got close, he unhitched his arm from the railing. He glanced at her name tag. “Amelia, eh?”
“How dare you show up here and talk to me.”
His smile broadened. “And I was going to comment on your costume.”
“I don’t trust anything you say.” Andy tried to strike him, but he deflected it easily, catching her wrist. She broke his hold and landed a smack across his face. “You used me and left me there.”
“I deserved that.” Suddenly, he grew serious. “One day, I promise, I’ll tell you the whole truth. I just can’t right now.”
“Why did you get rid of me?”
“Do you want another lie?”
“You knocked me out and stole my phone. I am furious.”
“I know.” Christiaan leaned close. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to. I had to. My boss would’ve called me off the case. I had to give them something. You’re a tough nut to crack.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“So, how did you find her?”
Andy lifted her chin. “I’ve impressed you, haven’t I?”
Christiaan avoided her gaze.
“I have!”
“Okay, maybe a little.”
“Well, some secrets I must keep to myself.”
He faced her. “Andy, I’m tired of playing games. Let’s call a truce.”
“A truce? You mean, you stop lying and manipulating me?”
“No, I mean, we work together so we don’t lose the bigger fish. You flouncing all around me while I’m trying to work my mark is distracting.”
“Distracting?” Andy reeled. So something was going on. She puffed out her chest in defiance.
“Distracting.” Christiaan never said more than what he wanted to say.
“Okay, what do you suggest?”
“Why don’t you tell me what you know, and I’ll tell you what I know.”
Andy couldn’t help but be a little suspicious. “Hmm, okay fine.”
“Promise?” He had some quirky expression on his face. Andy couldn’t figure out what it was.
“Promise,” she said, eyes squinting, not sure he was telling the truth.
“Pinky-swear?” Christiaan proffered a pinky. His eyes shone with secret delight.
Reservations sliding, Andy held out her hand. “Do you say this to all your other secret agent partners?”
He leaned close, inches from her, and locked pinkies, staring into her eyes. “Oh no, this is much more intimate.”
Hands locked, gazes locked. She was on a ship in the middle of the Pacific Ocean on a starry diamond night.
“Okay, you go first,” Andy said, not completely trusting his promise.
“All right.” He breathed deeply. “We don’t know anything.”
“What?”
“Now what do you know?”
“Wait a minute! You’re sneaky. You don’t know anything? I’m not telling you anything.”
“You pinky-swore.”
“Pinky-swore?” Andy stepped back. “You lied again.”
“No, I told you I’d tell you what we know, which is nothing.”
Andy spun on her heel, whirling on the wooden deck, her heels clacking in the varnish. “I know what happened, you hit a dead end and want to know what I got from Carmen. Am I right? Worried your charm will fail you? Your sparkling eyes won’t cut it?”
“It’s not fast enough. We are running out of time. My boss wants us to work together as a team now.”
“A team?” Andy was pacing now. “A team trusts each member. And I don’t trust you.”
“Listen, we dock tomorrow morning. I need information from you or from Carmen.”
“Carmen has been my fr
iend for the last week, and she’s told me a lot about her ex-boyfriend.” Andy liked having the upper-hand. It made Christiaan powerless. Grasping. Desperate. “And you are just going to use her just like how you used me.”
He grew in size as he puffed himself up next to her. “Do you think I was using you? Every day since I left you I have thought about you, replayed the last night in our hotel.”
“I’d have to be a fool to believe you.”
His voice lowered, softened. “I’ve wanted to make you care. Trust me, Andy, if there was a way I could love you how you needed to be loved, I would’ve done it already. There is just so much going on I can’t tell you about.”
“You only kiss me when you want information.”
“I can get information from the girl in there. What I want from you is this.” He kissed her on her head, lowering his voice to a whisper. “You have to know in your heart this is real, Andy. Let me in.”
He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close, hungrily pressing his lips into hers, nibbling at her cheeks, her chin, down her neck.
“Excuse me?” said a voice across the dimness.
Andy and Christiaan whirled. Carmen stood on the deck, her eyebrows drawn in confusion. Then glancing back and forth between them, her eyebrows gathered on her face. She spun on her heel and retreated.
“Great,” Christiaan muttered under his breath as he chased after Carmen, catching her arm before she descended down the stairs.
Andy couldn’t understand what they were saying in Spanish. She should watch more Telemundo.
Whatever the conversation was, Carmen slapped him and left in a huff. He didn’t even try to block it.
When Christiaan returned to her, he was visibly annoyed, rubbing his cheek. “We lost an asset.”
“What did she say?”
His shoulders sagged, deflated. “She says your number’s on.”
Andy’s heart lunged. Well, she was fired.
“That’s not all,” Christiaan continued.
Andy arched an eyebrow, questioning.
“She called you a hussy.”
“Not true.”
“Okay, you’re right. She called you something worse than a hussy. But to make you feel better, she called me a few choice words about me being a player.”
