I blinked. How was this even possible?
"I can't even find a social security trail," Eric admitted, sounding disgusted at that fact. "It's as if the guy sprung up out of nowhere five years ago, but didn't truly step out of the shadows until just before King's death."
My mind was reeling. I couldn't stop the ever increasing spin of questions swirling faster and faster inside my head; a tornado of worry and fear and confusion and uncertainty. Reality taking a back seat to this new horrific world.
"We suspect Jaxon Harding is an alias," Eric added, making the tornado spin erratically, bits of debris flying off in lethal projectiles that pounded against my aching head.
I was going to be sick. Again. That coffee churning and grumbling and twisting my stomach into a horrible mess.
"We could help each other," Ric was saying, but I felt a little light headed, sweat trickling down the centre of my back. "I know where your father is being cared for, we have an understanding with that particular facility."
What?
"We can ensure his safety, isolate him from any threat Harding makes."
Oh, God.
"It will have to be timed with extricating you. Harding has eyes everywhere."
Huh.
"Amber. You want out, don't you?" he asked.
I nodded dumbly. Yes, oh God, yes I wanted out.
"Sweetheart, we'll get you out, but we need your help first. I wouldn't ask, if we weren't up against a wall. This man is dangerous and too well protected. We can't get near him. But you can."
"I don't understand," I murmured, my lips numb. He said he'd protect Dad, get me out. It's all I could think about. Those relief inducing words. It's what I had hoped, what I hadn't been able to trust in. It's all that mattered.
But what did he mean, I can get near Jaxon? Being near him was tantamount to suicide.
"I can't stay there," I insisted. "He's not acting the way he used to."
"How is he acting?" Ric asked.
"Unstable. Unpredictable. Nothing like he's been in the past."
I noticed for the first time that Eric was pale, his lips pressed in a thin line, his free hand fisted, resting on his thigh. His leg jumping up and down; jittery, but not the movement of a nervous man. The motions of a man trying to control his temper.
Was he angry with me? Because I didn't want to do this?
"Dancer," he said, his voice a deep rumbled rasp. My eyes met the fierce green of his, stress lines bracketing their beauty. "I..." he began, closed his lids, shook his head. Then sucked in a deep breath of air, shoulders purposely relaxing, and said, "I have to ask you to do this."
He didn't want me there either. Somehow that made all the difference.
"I can wire you," he went on, almost too quickly. As though he had to get the rest of what needed to be said out in a hurry, or he wouldn't be able to say it at all. "I can place a tracker on you. A panic alarm. You hit it, and I will break down every wall he puts up and get to you. I promise," he growled. "You go in, you hack that system, you copy that file and you come out. And then we isolate your father, lock you down somewhere safe, and bring the bastard down."
It sounded so easy. One, two, three, four steps. That's it. Then I'd be free and Jaxon wouldn't put another bullet in a person's brain while grinning.
"I have to do this?" I asked, my voice trembling.
"No," Eric surprised me by saying. "You can refuse and we'll still isolate your father, get you into witness protection, and go after Harding another way."
"How long have you been trying?" I asked, holding his steady, calming gaze.
"Nine months since he came to light."
"And you've got nothing in all that time," I guessed. Knowing how good Eric was, knowing if anyone could find anything on Jaxon in the system, RiC3.1415 could.
Knowing that if he hadn't, there was nothing for them to find out there at all.
"We've got nothing. He's a ghost. A phantom. He simply did not exist before 2009."
I nodded, feeling strangely calm. It was pretty simple, really. I'd made choices that had led me here. I'd ignored the signs, chosen to seek my own agenda, therefore overlooked the darkness that was obviously inside my man. I'd slept with the enemy and the enemy killed.
I'd been living with a man who quite possibly was on the same level of criminality as an evil, murderous drug lord.
Washed-out white, orange glow, blood red. The skin on the dead. The firing of a bullet from a gun. The colour of death. All delivered with a familiar grin.
I'd made mistakes. Wrong choices. Selfish goals. This was my chance to put things right.
"OK," I whispered and Eric tensed. His whole body going rock solid, his mouth dipping down at the edges, frown lines marring his usually smooth forehead, his grip on my hand too painful.
I winced. He immediately let go and then muttered a string of swearwords under his breath.
"I have to go, if I'm going back," I said, noting the time was now twenty to eleven.
Eric looked like he might be sick. He swallowed several times, nodded his head determinedly, then reached into his jacket and pulled several items out.
The first was a bracelet. A small, delicate gold chain with a dragon charm hanging off it. There looked to be a ruby in its eye, just like his ring.
"This," he said, leaning forward and placing the bracelet around my wrist, "is your panic alarm. Press the eye of the dragon and I'll know you need help."
I nodded, fascinated at his fingers deftly doing up the catch on the jewellery.
"This," he added, placing a tiny device on the back of the watch I was wearing, "is a tracker. Wherever it goes, I'll be able to follow."
Again, all I could do was nod, craving the next touch of his fingers even if they were just attaching spy-like devices.
"Now this," he said, holding up a slightly larger electronic item, "are my eyes and ears. Place this somewhere discreet, but helpful. Maybe the room you work in, or..." He paused, sucked in a breath. "Or Harding's office if possible. But only if you can do it without being detected. Remember, he'll have cameras throughout the place as well. So make it look natural."
His hand pulled back after placing the bug in mine, fingers brushing purposefully as he moved away. I looked down at the device, noting it resembled security camera domes you found on ceilings. I guessed it had some sort of spanning capabilities, so just needed to be placed where it could take in the entirety of the room.
"It's magnetised," Ric offered. "So, the side of a metal filing cabinet, the grille over an air duct, that sort of thing."
"OK."
"Are you really? OK?" he asked.
I shook my head. "But I will be."
"You're amazing," he whispered. My eyes flicked to his. "And beautiful," he added. And then I think he said something about being so fucking young, but it was mumbled, as though an afterthought, or something he hadn't intended to say aloud.
I checked my watch to break the tension, placed the bug inside my jeans pocket and stood from my chair.
"Thanks," I said, holding out my hand to shake his, feeling like an idiot considering I'd just been brushing my thigh against his for half an hour.
His lips quirked up at the edges.
"Believe me, Dancer," he rumbled, "the pleasure has been all mine."
I smiled and received a fucking fantastic one back in return.
"You really are one of the good guys, aren't you?" I said.
The smile dimmed, but a wicked glint entered his eyes.
"Sweetheart, in some things I am very, very bad indeed."
And like the slave to all bad-boys that I am, I wanted to get to know that bad side. Very, very much indeed.
Chapter 10
It's Gonna Be A Long Night, Be Prepared
Eric
Fuck. Fuck. Motherfucking fuck!
I watched as the woman I desperately wanted to protect with my entire being weaved through the intentionally well crowded floor of Sweet Seduction. Gen and Kelly having
made sure that they invited all of their very large and extensive list of friends and acquaintances to a free-for-all coffee and chocolate day at the store. Just so I could tag Amber Lane and not be seen clearly from the street.
It had worked. No one stormed in here to pull my way too handsy self off the girl and no one was approaching her as she walked to her car. Ben's voice in my ear letting me know she'd gotten away clean.
I sat back down in the seat at the table and placed my head in my hands. What the motherfucking fuck was I doing? I'd just let a little lamb walk into the big, bad wolf's strip club. Ah, fuck it. If anything happened to her...
I leaned back in the seat letting out a disgruntled and unamused huff. If anything happened to her, I'd just add it to the list of shit to feel guilty about rattling around inside my head.
My eyes landed on a gift bag sitting on the table. It had been here when I arrived, and unless Adam, the bastard, had a sudden fetish for ladies' lingerie, I was betting it was Amber's. I stared at it, as the hustle and bustle in the shop became indistinct. Then before I could think better, like, maybe have a shred of decency left inside my debauched brain, I reached out and peered inside.
Tissue for fucking Africa, but I'd never let something as inconsequential as a piece of crepe paper get in my way.
My fingers wrapped around a slinky stretchy piece of material, and I pulled it out into the light of the room. Golden glitter and an itty-bitty thong. For a second I just stared and then when my brain finally caught up with my eyes, shot rock fucking hard in my jeans. There was a matching bra, if you could call the flimsy thing a bra. With a quick release catch. Ah, fuck! I was gonna come holding women's underwear in a crowded café owned by my boss's sister-in-law.
I shoved the delightful fantasy inducing items back in the bag just as Nick slid into the seat opposite me. His eyes landed on the package, flicked up to my face, and then turned all knowing.
The prick.
I moved the bag to the seat beside me. That baby was coming home with me. If I couldn't have Amber, I'd at least have her knickers.
Jesus fuck, I was a perverted bastard.
"It's done," I announced, before he could get going on the sex-goddess intimates.
"Good," he said with a head nod. "She solid?"
Soft, curvy in all the right places, smooth, succulent skin.
"Yeah."
"Give up anything?"
The images that phrase evoked were definitely x-rated. I shook my head.
"She's scared and in shock. She had no idea who she was..." Shit. I couldn't say it. I couldn't say the fucking word. "Living with," I managed instead.
"You think you know someone," Nick offered.
"And they turn out to be a fucked in the head psychopath," I finished.
"We're close, Eric. This is the closest we've been. It all hangs on her."
Yeah. That was what I was afraid of.
"You better head back," he added. "Start tracking the girl."
"Woman." Ah, fuck it.
"Is that right?" he drawled, leaning back in his seat, one arm outstretched over the back of his chair, the other tapping on the table's surface gratingly. His eyes went to the gift bag beside me. "Leave you a memento, did she, Shaw?"
I ground my teeth.
He laughed, shook his head, and then leaned forward.
"We need her. Don't fuck this up." His voice was light. The words were not.
"I know," I bit out. As if he wasn't pushing that point home relentlessly already.
"Then get that fucking bright brain of yours outta your pants and do your fucking job."
"When have I ever not done my job?" I demanded. Both of us keeping our voices level, non-threatening.
Both of us ready spill blood in a split second.
Nick held my angry stare with a steely one of his own for a moment, then nodded.
I won.
"We'll get her out," he said softly. "But we need this and you know it."
Yeah, I fucking did know it. Nine months and just the odd whisper on the street. Radar abuzz with changes in King's business structure, the upper echelon all shot to hell and rearranged. Hints and innuendoes pointing to Harding, but little else.
We knew, fucking knew, the guy was taking over what was left of King's realm. But we had jack shit to show for it.
So young, so innocent - to hell with the fact she danced around a pole to pay her bills - and so fucking sweet. She was in the wrong place; a woman like her should be protected from this shit. Kept safe and warm and loved.
Bloody hell, I was turning into a Hallmark card.
"I'm outta here," I said standing and preparing to leave.
So did Nick. All hands on deck; right now ASI was completely engaged.
"Eric," Nick called, before I could make my escape.
"Yeah, boss," I said over my shoulder.
"It's gonna be a long night, be prepared."
Nick wasn't just talking about the next few hours of pinning Harding down as the new Declan King. He was referring to listening in on Amber while she was with the scumbag murderer himself. I knew what awaited when I returned to ASI control. I knew how important the information Amber was trying to get was.
And I also knew how dangerous her task would be. How lethal. How fucked up it could get.
Amber was heading into the lion's den.
I was heading into hell to watch.
Chapter 11
I'm The Knight In Shining Armour
Amber
I parked my car next to Jaxon's enormous black tank and stared at my wrist as my hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. The dragon charm dangled below my arm, sunlight making the ruby glint. Jaxon would see it immediately. I should really take it off.
Throwing caution to the wind, I reached into the rear of the car and dug around in my gym bag, coming up with my jewellery pouch. Several yellow and rose gold bangles later and the charm bracelet was lost in amongst the delicate jangle of metal sliding halfway up my arm. I was actually smiling when I climbed out of the car.
The moment my eyes landed on Sala standing at the back door to the club the smile fell.
"Morning, ballerina," he drawled as I forced myself to take one step after the other and walk toward the creep.
"Sala," I said in greeting, making to move past the great big oaf.
"Last night was good, kefe," he said, reaching out to do God knows what. I didn't wait for him to make contact, but ducked around his bulk and grasped the handle on the door.
Sala was big, but he wasn't slow.
His hand fell on my shoulder and he spun me around, pushing me back up against the door.
"Princess, you don't wanna make an enemy of me," he growled. "Right now, I'm your only fuckin' friend, yeah?"
"Let me go," I ground out, staring daggers at the man. "This will all be on camera and Jaxon will kick your arse," I tried, unsure exactly where the security cameras actually were.
I'd never had to think of them before, my mind was constantly reminding me of what Jaxon could see now. In this instance, I did hope he was watching.
"Ballerina, I ain't that stupid."
Could have fooled me.
"Cameras don't reach in here," he added. I realised we were in a little alcove, an overhang to give you cover, if the weather was bad, while you unlocked the door. I tried not to let my fear show. But it was so close to the surface right now, I wasn't sure I pulled a look of nonchalance off.
And when Sala grinned, showing a row of crooked yellowed teeth, I was picking he'd seen every angst ridden emotion that crossed my face.
"Now, how 'bout we schedule a repeat performance. This time I wanna lap dance."
I never did lap dances, I just danced the pole. Except for Jaxon, I'd never strutted my stuff in a guy's crotch before. Sala knew this, he was just being a prize prick.
"How about this, Sala," I said, lifting my chin and holding his greasy stare. "You let me inside this fucking door before Jaxon figures out it's taken too lo
ng for me to appear since I exited my car. Wouldn't want him thinking you're harassing his girl, now would we?"
"Ballerina, he don't give no two fucks 'bout you spreading it 'round."
Bullshit. I cocked my hip, crossed my arms over my chest and raised an incredulous eyebrow.
Sala just laughed.
"Amber, he's 'bout to take over the world. All the pussy he wants will be fallin' at his feet."
It was stupid. I lived with the man. Had been his obsession for the past two years. And despite not wanting to have a thing to do with Jaxon Harding and this club ever again, I still felt the sting of Sala's words. Ridiculous.
"Whatever," I spat, turning around and pushing through the unlocked door.
Sala's loud laughter followed me, but thankfully the arsehole didn't.
By the time I reached the clubroom floor my emotions had tumbled out and almost drowned me. Confusion reigning supreme, but there was the ever present fear, angst and now a new vulnerability. Absently I played with the charm on the bracelet Ric had given me as the familiar atmosphere of Champagne & Chandeliers engulfed me.
It was too early for the business to be open, but that didn't mean it was empty. C&C Enterprises' offices were above and behind this space; employees from all departments cut through the clubroom when it was closed. And those tasked with readying the room itself for clientèle were hard at work behind the bar or up on the stage.
Jaxon was sitting on a stool talking to one of his lawyers. A guy named Derek Marks, dressed in a three thousand dollar suit and Ferragamo moccasins. The artificial lights glinted off the pure gold of his watch face as he lifted a hand to grasp his crystal decanter, probably full of ten thousand dollar Scotch.
"Baby," Jaxon purred, standing immediately and cutting the lawyer's words off without any care. He crossed the space between us, a once familiar beaming smile of appreciation gracing his lips.
For a second, an infinitesimal moment in time, I forgot what he was capable of. My heart only remembered the gentle care and focused attention he'd always given.
Then the image of him holding a gun to a man's head and grinning flashed through my mind.
Sweet Seduction Stripped (Sweet Seduction, Book 7) Page 8
