His Undercover Lover

by April Zyon

  “If you hear anything else, you call right away,” Brant said. “I’ll update you as soon as I hear anything from my end.”

  “You got it,” Simon said. Hanging up, he tucked the phone away, then went back to his stool at the bar. Turning to face the stage when Megan was introduced, he contemplated the fact they’d never set up a signal for if he’d found out information. A little late to realize that, of course.

  Sighing, he rubbed a hand over his face, looked to the hall, and decided to go see if he could hear something more. It was a risk, but the office was on the other side of the guys’ bathroom wall, so he might get lucky. Pushing off the stool, he headed for the can. He only hoped Megan didn’t kill him for not being there to watch her while she did her final number.

  ****

  Megan hated busy nights like this one. Having a whole staff on site was a pain in the ass, mostly because all of the women flocked to the dressing room and it was elbow to elbow for a time. Finally, it was time for her to go out for her last dance of the night and she finished off her water bottle and tossed it into the bin at the side of the door.

  Once she was on stage, she began to move, thinking only of Simon and dancing for him. She looked out to the crowd and frowned. Why was Simon not out there?

  She was swaying and moving with the music, her body a part of the tunes. That’s when it happened. Her head began to feel fuzzy and she began to sway, not to the music, but because she was a bit on the dizzy side. She grabbed the pole and twirled around. The room tilted as she did so.

  That’s when she knew she was in trouble. One of the bouncers that she utterly hated was walking toward her, a grin on his face that made her skin crawl.

  She looked out into the crowd, her eyes desperately searching for Simon as she did so. She let go of the pole and slid off of the stage, slapping at the hands that reached out and touched her ass as she moved.

  She had to get to Simon. It could be that he was outside getting air. She knew he liked to step outside just before her sets so that he could get a breath of air, and so he could hopefully overhear conversations outside.

  She pushed the door open, dressed only in pasties and a thong. She didn’t care. She had to get to Simon! She had been drugged and damn well knew it.

  She was shaking, and nearly fell to her ass when she ran into what felt like a brick wall, but she knew it was just one of the bouncers. “Simon.” She whispered his name before she heard a laugh and felt herself picked up and tossed over a shoulder. The drug took full control then and as much as she wanted to fight, she couldn’t. Not when her world went black.

  ****

  Stunned at what he’d heard through the wall, actually the vent that was so very conveniently placed, Simon headed back out to the club proper. He stopped immediately when he saw who was on stage. It wasn’t Megan like it should have been. It was the woman that came on immediately after her. And she was early.

  Not fucking good. Spinning, he raced to the ladies change room and knocked. “Megs, you in there, babe?” he called out loudly.

  The door cracked open and one of the women, Belinda he thought her name was, stuck her head out. “Sorry, she’s not in here.”

  “What? But the lady who goes on after her is on stage. She should be here,” he said.

  “She’s not. I heard Randy comment she didn’t look good, and that she stepped outside to get some air.”

  Alarm bells went off in his head. Thanking her, he raced for the exit at the end of the hall. Outside, he turned for the corner of the building and ran for the back entrance near the stage. It would be where Megan should be if she’d stepped out for some air. She wasn’t there. Her shoe was, though.

  “Son of a fucking bitch!”

  Scooping up the shoe, he kept going for the parking lot. He heard voices, and knew it could be a bad scene or innocent. His gut said to go in under the assumption that the shit was hitting the fan, so he did.

  Simon slipped between the vehicles, staying up on the balls of his feet while looking left and right constantly. He was getting closer to the voices when a vehicle door slammed shut and an engine started. Footsteps crunched over some of the loose gravel near the one corner, and then across the asphalt back toward the club.

  Stepping around a van, he saw one of the bouncers taking off. And Megan was in the front seat. His eyes went to the plate, and he dragged out his phone while racing for his truck. “Brant, it’s me. Megan’s been taken.” He passed along the description of the vehicle, the plate, and the name of the bouncer driving the vehicle. He had the truck moving seconds after leaping behind the steering wheel. “I’m pulling out behind him, maybe two hundred yards or more. There’s no one else out here. Where the fuck are your guys?”

  “Following the mayor,” Brant said. His voice was muffled as he said something to someone else, his tone urgent. “I have Joshua calling one of the guys to catch up to you and act as backup.”

  Simon let out a breath. “Okay, good,” he muttered. Joshua was Brant’s brother, and worked the Carver Ranch on a daily basis. They’d brought him into the loop since he had an ear to the ground of Massey that most of them never could, even those that had grown up there. Joshua had actually gotten them some new intel, not a lot, but enough to know that things were way more complicated than Megan or Brant had figured.

  “I’m catching up. Shit. I’m going to stay back a bit. He’s going the speed limit, so obviously, he doesn’t want to catch the deputies’ attention if they’re out here playing with their radar again.”

  “That’s good,” Brant said. “That means he doesn’t realize he’s being followed.”

  “Or is professional enough to know not to floor it,” he muttered.

  “Doubtful. Most of those guys were hired because of their size and intimidation factor. Not their brain power,” Brant said.

  The man had a point. Most of the bouncers at the club were the sort to take orders and only do exactly as they were told. They were not the type to think outside the box, or get creative in their plans should things go awry.

  “We’re heading way out in the country,” he relayed to Brant. “Away from your place now. Hell, I have no clue where we’re going.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m using your phone’s GPS to track you. I know where you are to within a twenty meter radius. And I know the county well, so I’ll know where you end up. Are you armed?”

  “Fuck yeah,” he muttered. “I have some gear in the truck. Why?”

  “Curious, mainly. Don’t go getting killed out there. This could be what we need to nail the mayor, so unless Megan’s in immediate danger, let it play out for a bit.”

  Grinding his teeth, Simon had to resist the urge to tell Brant what he thought of that brilliant fucking plan. He could see the wisdom in it, if it was anyone but Megan. He fucking loved the woman, and was not about to let anything happen to her. Fuck the operation. If she looked to be in trouble, he’d fucking shoot everyone and worry about the paperwork and ass chewing later.

  “Yeah, we’ll see,” he said. The best he could do.

  ****

  Megan fought against the darkness that had swallowed her whole. She had to work her way toward consciousness, but it was something she had been trained to deal with after her last drugging. She breathed in through her nose, out her mouth. She forced her mind to work when it didn’t want to.

  Outwardly, however, she didn’t move. She couldn’t have moved if she had tried in that moment. She had been dosed with some seriously heavy shit, Ketamine if she wasn’t mistaken, and it had taken a hard toll on her.

  Even though she didn’t move, couldn’t move, she listened. She heard the laughter from the back of the van, knew that voice, and it irritated the shit out of her. It was one of the mayor’s lackeys, a little weasel-nosed asshat who thought that because he was the personal assistant to the mayor, he ran shit. He was a little prick and Megan hated him.

  He was, however, a fountain of information as he muttered, mumbled, and th
en crowed in pleasure about the plans that they had for her. Yeah, so not happening. She would kill the little bastard before she let him fuck her. At least she would try. If she could get free of whatever special blend of crazy that they had dosed her with that was.

  When she peeked through her eyelashes, that’s when she saw it. The flash of headlights. It wasn’t so much the headlights as it was the noted blue hue to them that she knew were from Simon’s truck. He had installed special LED headlamps a few days earlier, talking about how he had always wanted to have a blue tint to his headlights, and now she was so fucking happy for him doing that, she could have laughed, but didn’t. She played the sleeping captive while she tried to work out the numbness that was invading her fingers, arms, and legs.

  The weasel snickered. “The boss sent me a text. The other guys got the girl out from under those busybodies’ noses,” he said. “She’ll be joining this one on the trip. I’m sure she’ll enjoy the company.”

  Oh shit, that was so not good, Megan thought to herself. Not good at all. She had to think. She needed to get free, but not until she was wherever the other women were. If they had women to send out, that would be where they would take Eli as well. Shit. The poor woman was seriously not cut out to be taken by anyone—not that anyone was, but she would break. Megan was sure of it.

  Her hope rested in Simon, in him ensuring that they weren’t taken and shipped out of the country. She had to have faith in him because, right now, he was all she had. She couldn’t even save herself, let alone anyone else. Not at the moment at least.

  “The boss wants us to get her in with the others. He has the truck coming to pick up the container in about an hour. He’ll stop by to take a quick inventory, and pictures of the newest acquisitions,” weasel said.

  “Does he want her changed?”

  “He didn’t say anything about that, I’ll ask.”

  Changed? Oh shit, she was only in pasties and a thong. Shit, not good. Wait, container? What the hell were they talking about? Oh wait! Maybe that was what she had been trying to find. They had all been trying to figure out just how the hell they were getting the women out of the town without anyone knowing. Maybe this was it? Massey had a massive network of railroad tracks, mostly because of the exporting of the oils and other items that they had in their town. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? God, she just wanted to shoot herself in that moment, but she continued to listen.

  “He wants her scrubbed down and changed into one of the gowns. He doesn’t want her smelling like the club,” weasel said. “His instructions are to dunk her, scrub her, spritz her, and dress her. You are not allowed to touch this one like the last three. He says he will shoot off your dick if you so much as leer at her in any manner he sees as uncalled for.”

  Megan heard the growl and cursing from the man driving and felt sick inside. Shit, what in the world had this man done to those poor women? Jesus. If they were able to get them free, it was going to be a nightmare for the women. She so didn’t envy them that at all. She felt horrid for them.

  “After what you did, he’s lucky the buyer’s still willing to take them. So quit your bitching already,” weasel said. She heard squeaking of vinyl, and knew the weasel was moving around in the back seat. “Huh, for a second there, I thought we were being followed. Guess not. Don’t see those lights any more. Put on a little more speed, though. We don’t have a lot of time to get this one and the other ready before the boss shows up.”

  They were being followed. Megan knew that Simon was out there and he was tailing them. She knew he wouldn’t let her go that easily. God, she loved that man. Shit. Wait. What? She had to rethink what she had just lightly thought about and was stunned. Holy shit. She was. She was in love with Simon Markham! When the hell had that happened? What the freak?

  She felt someone poking at her cheek. “I think you dosed her too well,” weasel said.

  “She’ll be fine, but she’s a scrapper and we need to get her cleaned up. It’s better that she’s out for it, that way the boss won’t know what we may or may not do with her,” the bouncer behind the wheel said.

  Chapter Seven

  Megan felt herself tossed over a shoulder again. She forced herself not to grunt, but did let the air escape her lungs. Shit, that hurt! She was dunked in a cold shower and the pasties were jerked off in a move that had her biting the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out. Damn, that was painful!

  She breathed in and out, forcing herself not to lose it. She needed them to think she was totally out of it if she had a chance in hell at surviving this. She was thankful when she had clothes pulled over her head once again after she was out of the shower and dried.

  She was then laid down on a bed and spritzed with a soft spray that actually smelled lovely. Sadly, she would never want to smell it again because of the predicament she was in. Wonderful.

  When the women were alone, Megan opened her eyes very slightly and looking through her lashes at the women around the room. There were close to twelve, including herself. This was just not good. She shifted slightly, her first move on her own.

  A hand on her arm had her stopping. The soft voice of the woman filtered through the screaming haze of her mind. “Stay still. They will be right back and if you’ve moved, they will know that you aren’t as out of it as they think you are.”

  Megan nodded and lay back. She needed to regain control of herself anyway. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “I would give you a drink, but they refuse to give us anything. I’m so sorry.”

  “Is okay,” Megan replied, and nodded. “My team will be here. I know that they will. Simon won’t let me be taken from him. I just know it.”

  “I hope you are right,” the woman said. “Because if not, we will never be seen again. At least not alive.”

  Megan briefly wondered how the woman knew that, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she just nodded and sighed.

  A door slammed somewhere. “Where are they?” a deep voice boomed. She knew that voice. Another voice replied, soft enough that she couldn’t make out the words. “Good, good. Let’s get their pictures taken so I can send the images off to the buyer. Then we need to load everyone up.”

  Oh shit on a stick. That was seriously not good. At all. If the head honcho was there, then he was getting ready to shift his fucking operation. Damn.

  She closed her eyes, felt the woman at her side moving away, and began to pray. God, she hoped that Simon and the guys got there in time. If not, they would never be seen alive again and she damn well knew it.

  A door, much closer now, opened. “Alright, take their pictures. Faces and bodies.”

  “Got it, boss.” The weasel was in there. A flash of light from beyond her eyelids indicated she was being photographed. Another flash, and then she felt the outfit she’d been put into being undone. It was spread wide so the air hit her flesh, and more pictures were taken, the flash slightly further away from her face.

  A moment later, she was redressed, and footsteps moved away.

  “That’s good enough. Get them uploaded and sent. Then get back here and start herding them out to the container. The truck will arrive in thirty minutes.”

  God, she hated this. The perversion. The knowledge that someone was seeing her naked. God only knew how many someones actually. She hated every single moment of it, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. She was still too out of it with the drugs, but they were wearing off more and more with each passing moment.

  “Boss,” the weasel called out from somewhere in the building.

  “Yes?”

  “I can’t connect to the Net. Damn thing just keeps spinning and telling me there’s nothing there.”

  A heavy, put upon sigh sounded. “Do I honestly need to do everything around here? Check that the modem is on, would you please? If it’s on, try turning it off and restarting it. We’re in the middle of nowhere. The damn thing’s probably having a conniption.”

  “Uh, boss.” That soun
ded like one of the bouncers.

  “Yes?” The boss man really wasn’t sounding very happy.

  “I think we have bigger problems.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, there’s a guy…” The sound of glass breaking was quickly followed by the distinctive sound of a body hitting the ground.

  “We’re under attack!” The weasel sounded panicked. Automatic gunfire sounded, more glass breaking, and another body hit the floor. “Shit, they got Carl! Boss? Boss? Where the hell are you going?”

  “I cannot be associated with this. I am departing posthaste. Remember, if you are captured, if you speak of me, I will do things to you even in jail that you will forever have etched in your memory.”

  “Going somewhere?” Now that was a voice she damn well had been waiting to hear for what felt like days.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “Aww, don’t even recognize me, Mr. Mayor? Shame. Hands on your head, on your knees, now. Or I’ll let the sniper finish picking everyone off. Starting with you,” Simon said in a rather cold tone.

  Megan smiled. God, she couldn’t have stopped her smile if she had tried. “Simon.” She whispered his name as if in a prayer. He was there! Simon had come like she had known he would. She heard the sobs of the women and sighed. She fully opened her eyes and reached out for the closest woman. “It’s okay. They are the good guys. They are here to save us.” She hoped that her words made sense. They were more than a little slurred, but she couldn’t help that.

  “I got him. Go find her.” Brant’s voice reached her ears.

  Heavy footsteps came closer to where she and the other women were. The door was flung open, and then there he was. He spotted her immediately and rushed toward her. Fully decked out in tactical gear, he was still the best damn looking thing she’d seen all night. “Megan,” he whispered. Scooping her up, he cradled her in his arms and lap as he settled on the edge of the bed she’d been lying on.