by Lacey Silks
“Has that ever happened before?”
“Other than with Kendra, no. Whoever has her knows his way around. From the research we’ve done, he’s like a ghost. He never showed up to the auction.”
“Why her?”
“That’s a good question. She’s not a relative of yours, is she?” His gaze scanned from the photo to me.
“No.” I shook my head. “I just feel a strange connection to her, that’s all.”
“I can ask around, but this is pretty much it.” He passed me his file.
I spent the next fifteen minutes scanning the sheets. The man who had bought Marissa had no intention of letting her work the streets. No one had seen her or heard from her, and it appeared she was to be his personal slave.
Laura and James were getting too touchy and feely even for my liking. I said my goodbyes and told them to behave, at which Laura chuckled, of course. Before leaving I went downstairs to the Starbucks to grab a tea. On my way back to the building, where the valet had kindly brought my car, a familiar face flashed from across the street. She lowered her head when she saw me and hastened her walk.
“It can’t be,” I said to myself, and then raised my voice for her to hear me from across the street. “Marissa?”
Her head jolted up by a fraction, but she continued at her fast pace. I crossed the street in a hurry, bumping into a taxi. My arm stung. The wound, although healed, still ached when I put too much pressure on it.
The driver rolled down his window, saying, “You’re going to get killed out here dream girl!”
“Sorry!” I raised my hand with the apology.
The air was crisp and I was beginning to see my breath in front of me.
Once on the sidewalk I pressed my feet harder. Was she jogging? Why? Her dark silhouette, a long coat and a hood over her head, seemed to be getting further away. I weaved between the few people on the street as she turned the corner. The sound of a siren howled in the distance. I followed the girl, wondering why she was running away. Was she afraid? And for goodness sake, if she’d been sold, then what was she doing here? It’s not like we were in the red light district, although we weren’t too far from it, either: a good twenty-minute walk north, or so. But then again, the files said she only worked for her owner.
“Marissa, wait!” I yelled out after her. I wanted to call Laura or James, but I didn’t have time to get my phone from the car. If I went back I’d lose her. Once I followed her to the right I saw her again, a bit closer this time. She halted her walk and lifted her hand to wave to someone. The headlights of a parked car flashed. He pulled out of his spot and stopped at her side. Was that her pimp? Marissa got inside the back seat of a plate less black SUV. The man wearing sunglasses and a hood drove right past me. For a moment I thought I recognized him, but couldn’t quite place the features in the darkness.
For a moment I contemplated jumping into a cab to follow her, but that would have been reckless, and I promised Tristan not to put myself or the baby in danger. I’d have to find a different way to approach her.
The taillights of the car became smaller, and I just stood there. The girl in the file looked desperate and without hope. Yet here, I’d given her a chance to make contact with someone else, and she didn’t take it. Was she afraid he’d hurt her? And why would he allow her to wander around like that while he waited a few blocks away? It didn’t make sense. My stomach bubbled again.
If I had to bet, and if my instinct hadn’t lost its mojo, I’d say she arrived outside of Cross Enterprises, looking for me.
CHAPTER 11
When I pulled into the driveway, Tristan was waiting for me on the steps. I sat in the car for a moment, enjoying the view of my man leaning against the stone like he was born to be a model. The house was lit inside and out. I still had a difficult time believing this was our house—no, our home. It felt too good to be true, and I really wanted to meet the fairy godmother who’d made it all happen.
I opened the car door and stepped out. The faint smell of burning wood wafted around me. White smoke puffed from behind the house. Tristan must have lit the fireplace, and I couldn’t wait to cuddle up in front of it. Feeling the temperature cool since I’d left work, and I tightened my arms around my front.
Without saying hello, Tristan pulled me in for a drawn-out kiss. His warmth circulated through me in seconds, as if he were my own personal heater. Tristan smelled so good and fresh. I sank deeper into his embrace, letting him cocoon me, and the world ceased to exist. The cold turned to heat and my icicle hands and legs thawed. Once we pulled away, our foreheads leaned against one another. The tip of his cold nose brushed my cheek and his breath caressed my face, “You should wear these pants to work more often.”
“Then you wouldn’t get any work done.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Have you been waiting long?”
“A few minutes. The Bentley has GPS tracking, and I couldn’t resist checking how far away you were. Let’s go inside.”
Tristan locked the door and removed my jacket. He stilled once he saw the corset top I’d borrowed from Laura. I’d worn one before, but it wasn’t as revealing as this little piece.
“This is what you wore?” he asked.
“I was undercover. And it’s much more clothing than what some of the women were wearing.”
“Sorry, I just didn’t expect it. The thought of another man ogling you or thinking the thoughts I’m having right now is just too much.” He clenched his fist.
“The only man I’m interested in ogling me is you.” I gave him a reassuring kiss. “If it makes you feel better, I need to return it to Laura.”
“Well, that explains it, then.”
I chuckled.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Yes, please.”
He tugged my hand and we headed for the basement. As we got closer to the staircase, my stomach was awakened by the appetizing aroma.
“Come downstairs. I may have asked Olivier to prepare something special.” He grinned.
“Now you have me intrigued.” At the mere mention of Olivier, my stomach started doing flips and somersaults.
“Not in the kitchen?” I felt my own mouth curve up. The last time I’d tried to surprise Tristan in the kitchen, our meal turned out to be more than I bargained for.
“This room has been christened already.”
Calling our basement a simple ‘basement’ was an understatement. Spanning the whole length and width of the house, the lower level had a movie theater with a projector and stadium seating – except instead of uncomfortable folding chairs, Tristan had installed reclining loungers with cup holders and headphones. Near the fireplace a games area featured a pool table, a poker table, foosball, and a few arcade machines, one of them being Pac Man. The big screen TV further down was reserved for an X-box and Wii system. Did we really need two?
I’d never seen Tristan play video games, but something told me he’d be good at them, losing himself in the play like a little boy. Then again, even if it felt like years, we hadn’t really known each other for too long. I wondered how good he was at Tetris and whether I could beat him. While at school I used to play on my laptop from time to time, and found it took my mind away from the cruel world I lived in.
“Do you play?” I asked.
“Sometimes. I’d offer for us to try now, but I had a more adult game in mind.”
There was that lusty voice of his that twisted my stomach with desire and tingled between my legs every time I heard it. But my nose decided to wander, sniffing for the spicy smells.
On a table near the fireplace were dishes filled with noodles, rice, spring rolls, and round dumplings probably stuffed with shrimp or chicken. The variety was too much for two people to consume. But my tummy disagreed with a hungry growl.
“Chinese?” I rushed over to the table. My mouth watered, and I brushed my hand over it to make sure the drool wasn’t about to drip.
“Yes, Olivier left a few minute
s ago, so it’s all fresh.”
“And fortune cookies. I love fortune cookies.” I sat down on the floor crossing my legs.
“Leave these for last. I’ve heard patience brings good luck.” Tristan sat down beside me. My gaze followed his lengthy body that tried to squish in as close to me as possible. The cotton shirt he’d worn tonight was easy enough to peel off, no buttons, and the sweats would fall with one pull of a string. Within seconds the object of my hunger switched from Chinese food to Tristan Cross, but he brought me back in an instant swirling a forkful of noodles in front of my nose. “Chopsticks or fork?” he teased.
“Fork. I took the bite.” Normally I would have used chopsticks, but tonight, with the growing hunger in my belly and the increasing need to move on to the main course sitting next to me, I knew I could get much more in my mouth, and more quickly with a fork.
I filled my plate with what I wanted (which was everything) as Tristan fed me. My mouth tasted heaven. The spices of Oriental cuisine were exactly what I and Puss wanted tonight. Could Olivier cook for us every day? Not that I didn’t like it when Tristan prepared food, in his boxers and nothing else. It was a feast just watching him in the kitchen. But the kind of food Olivier prepared took a talent that few had.
Yet something still bugged me. A feeling I hadn’t been able to shake since I’d left Cross Enterprises.
“Tristan, I need to ask you a question.” Spoiling the mood was the last thing I wanted, but if I didn’t ask him about Marissa’s file, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy his company. And I had a feeling that tonight would be a night to remember.
“Sounds serious.” He shifted his weight to face me. “Should I be worried?”
“I don’t know. You kept a file from me. The girl I was looking for, her name is Marissa. You didn’t want me seeing her file. Why?”
With a deep breath of what I could only interpret as honesty, he said, “I was afraid you’d get mixed up with the wrong people again, and I can’t go through that. The cartel that sold her was operated by the same mogul who hired Martinez.
“Tiezzo?”
“Yes.” Tristan didn’t look surprised I knew. “Since I’ve been consulting in Washington on new anti-smuggling and money-laundering legislation he’s scaled down his operation, but that’s not who I was afraid of...” His voice trailed into the distance.
“Who, then?”
“The guy who bought her is like a ghost. James worked undercover with the police and a not-for-profit rescue organization before he came to Cross Enterprises. He was supposed to get Marissa that night, but he couldn’t. And James has connections to almost every underground operation you can think of, yet he can’t find this guy.”
“You’ve asked James to look for him?”
“Yes. Only on instinct because I don’t like the unknown.”
“He told me Marissa could be connected to them. Don’t be mad at him.”
“I’m not, silly. It’s not my department, and I trust James.” He smoothed the back of his hand over my cheek. “I figured I wouldn’t be able to keep this from you for too long.”
“Then why keep it away from me at all? You know I can handle myself.”
“I’m not doubting your abilities or your motives, Allie, but Marissa... she’s a special case. She’s the first girl James failed. His stings had always been so intricate, he was shocked when he learned she’d been sold before the auction.”
“To whom?”
“That’s the problem. Like I said, this guy is like a ghost, which scares me more than when we deal with the scummiest dirt bags—even if he’s not part of the same cartel Martinez was. He acts alone. He’s never been seen or heard from, yet he knows things only the cops should know. I don’t like it. It’s always better to know the beast you’re up against than not know him at all. And for that reason, I’m afraid to let you touch the case.”
OK, now it was my turn for a little bit of truth-telling. “I saw her.”
“What?”
“I saw Marissa tonight. She was outside of Cross Enterprises, and for a moment I thought she was waiting for me.”
“Allie, now you’re freaking me out. Please promise me you won’t go out on your own. Or at least not anywhere I’m unaware of.”
“I promise.”
“Good, now let’s get back to the food. I don’t want dessert to get cold.”
“What’s for dessert?”
“You.” He kissed my cheek but the tension in his voice was clear.
“I can guarantee I’m quite hot,” I winked, then added to reassure him, “Seriously, Tristan. You have nothing to worry about. I wouldn’t let anyone hurt our baby.” I touched my stomach.
“Good. You two are the most important people in my life.” He kissed my head. “Now finish up. I’m getting impatient.”
Tristan dipped a chicken ball into the sweet and sour sauce and fed me another portion. I’d never tasted a batter like the one Olivier had prepared. Crunchy on the outside and softer on the inside; and when I bit into the tender chicken in the center I thought I’d orgasm right there.
“Allie, the sounds you’re making are way inappropriate for dinner,” Tristan growled. An alarm sounded in my head, but I was still too preoccupied with the sweet taste of chicken.
“I don’t care,” I said with my mouth full.
“You should care if you want to finish the food. Otherwise I’ll need to have you right here, on this couch.” He patted the cushion.
Oh, that’s what he meant. I licked my lips clean, trying to be more discreet, but that only sparked a new flame of desire in his eyes. His scarred lip lifted and that lopsided grin began looking more luscious every second: like it wanted to be the dish I would devour next. Somehow the promise of Tristan for dessert suddenly sounded more scrumptious than the fortune cookies.
“A few more bites, Mr. Cross, and you can have whatever you want.” I winked.
Tristan finished before me and sat in a chair by the fireplace, watching me with intent. I washed the food down with an iced tea, deciding I couldn’t fit anymore. Well, I probably I could, but Tristan in that chair, sitting all smug with a scotch in his hand, was too distracting. The warmth of the flames and the flickers that danced on every piece of furniture made me feel at home, more so than anything else. And finally, with my stomach filled, I was ready for what he offered in front of me.
I crouched on my knees and circled the table toward him like a predatory cat hunting its meal. From the look of Tristan’s lifting scar, he seemed to be enjoying the show. The closer I got, the more the strength of his excitement grew underneath his pants. I knelt in front of him, resting my hands on his knees before drawing them higher. That beautiful flex under his sweats sent the euphoria building inside me on a stampede. I squeezed his muscled thighs on the way up, softly brushing against his erection, but kept going until my fingers reached the drawstring of his pants. I twirled it around my finger before releasing it and closed in with my mouth, again caressing his firm curve under the fabric with my chin. Taking the string between my teeth, I looked up to see his pleased expression and pulled it with the slowest motion I could.
Hooking my fingers behind the elastic, I removed the pants off his waist. He lifted off the chair to help me release him. The pants rested on his thighs, exposing Tristan for me. As predicted, Tristan wore nothing underneath, and his striking muscle stood tall and proud. A drop glistened on his tip and I licked him with my full tongue from the bottom of his shaft upward and took him into my mouth. I closed my lips around his crown, feeling his hot rim against my gums.
“Oh, God.” His ragged voice was barely a whisper.
I looked up to see Tristan close his eyes and lean his head back against the chair. The first hint of pleasure on his cheeks rose my excitement to satisfy him thoroughly. His joy buzzed through me, centering deep in my core, drowning my folds in delightful dampness. And this was only the beginning.
My persuasive hand stroked him as I lowered my mouth to his base and
then slid back up. The ripple of his veins under my lips thickened as I gradually increased the momentum, controlling the rhythm of my intake. His taste intensified in my mouth and I began to suck him more aggressively, sinking deeper onto his shaft. God, he tasted better than... I couldn’t even think of anything that tasted nearly as good. Having Tristan in my mouth, succumbing to my skills without restraint, was yet another sexy vulnerability of his. I listened to the increased rhythm of his moans and felt the pulse of his vein inside my mouth, and sped my strokes. He couldn’t get any thicker in my hand.
His hands lowered onto my shoulders, fingers digging deep into my skin, sending a plea for a quicker release through my own body. And with a scream of pure pleasure, my mouth was filled with his warmth. At that moment I felt my pussy swell with the excitement of what I’d done to him. I milked every last drop from his tip, enjoying his rapture, taste, and delight, finally releasing him with a quiet pop.
Tristan slumped in the chair, his breathing still heavy. Still on my knees, I wiped my mouth with a napkin, patiently waiting for him to open his eyes. And when he did, the contentment in them was beyond spectacular. In fact, his entire face beamed with gratification.
“Allie, it wasn’t supposed to be like that.”
My brows furrowed for a moment. “It wasn’t good?”
“Oh, it was a first-class blow job, all right. No, that’s wrong. No one in first class will ever experience anything as divine. But I was supposed to be the one surprising you.”
Thank God! I thought I’d done something wrong.
Tristan released my shoulders. I was absolutely ecstatic I could take care of my man for a change. It felt good to be in the controlling position once in a while, even on my knees. As a cop it always made me happier when I could please someone or help them out (not in the same way, of course). And tonight, I’d definitely pleased Tristan Cross.
“Well, take a breather. Come.” I patted the blanket by the fireplace. “You can regain your energy for the cookies.”
