by Ann Raina
* * * *
Michael kept his smile, but said, “I didn’t decide that, ma’am.”
“I know.” Her expression sobered. “You’re very talented, Matt. You could get thrice the money you make now. Think about it.”
“Are you offering me a job?”
“No, no.” She waved her hand. “I’ve been a connoisseur for long years, I know the men to come and go. You, however, could turn this occupation into an art. You know what?” She cocked her head. “You could run your own service. You could hire young men and teach them what you do and how you do it.”
Michael fought not to laugh. The steak was good, so he concentrated on eating.
“You have a unique understanding. Don’t underestimate that gift. And don’t throw yourself away.”
“I truly won’t.”
Patricia sipped wine, eyeing him across the rim. “The conversation you heard—”
“I was a dog, ma’am. There’s no need reminding me to keep my mouth shut.” It came out belligerently, but Patricia nodded once.
“That’s appreciated. I would like to repeat this kind of date.”
“I see.” Michael’s guts twisted when he caught sight of Linda Bernstein outside the restaurant. It was but a brief moment, then she was gone. All perfect spy behavior. He bet she would never answer him why she knew the location.
“Excuse me, but you don’t sound that interested. If it was too embarrassing, I ask you to let me know now. There are others who like to join.”
Michael lowered his head to look at his almost empty plate. “Ma’am, did I give you the impression I didn’t like to be with you on this date?”
“No. But I wouldn’t refine the definition of enthusiasm over your reaction.”
Michael curled his lips to a small smile. “Let’s call it day, ma’am. I didn’t know what to expect and you told me quite late about the conditions of this date.”
“Because I expected you to know.”
“I’ll be better prepared next time.”
“That’s a man’s word.” She raised her glass in his direction, then asked with a glance at his empty plate, “Do you want dessert?”
“No, thanks.”
Patricia took the check while he drained his glass of Perrier.
Outside, the afternoon heat hit them hard after the air-conditioned room and while Patricia ordered her car, Michael felt a hand brush his and he quickly took the small package to hide it under his jacket. It was bulkier than he had thought, but the moment he reconsidered the hiding place, the limousine halted and he opened the door for the lady. Heart hammering, he sat beside her, the package tucked in his back, hoping she wasn’t that attentive to his moves.
Michael thought of the important next steps and missed a part of Patricia’s monologue. She eyed him without comment. He hoped, he got away with what he got.
* * * *
Kamal had insisted on meeting his contact face-to-face, no longer trusting telephone lines or cell phones. He smoked while he talked in clipped words. “You tell me that police didn’t do it? Göran, don’t gimme that shit!”
The other man of Arabian origin, black-haired, bearded and dressed in a worker’s overall and thick boots, nodded. “No shit. I’d say it was joint forces, but by what I heard not police alone.”
“You mean the FBI knows about this?”
“I’ve no contacts there so I can’t tell. It was police uniforms and all, but the men weren’t taken to a police stationhouse and the evidence also never got there.”
“The FBI.” Kamal blew out smoke and stubbed the cigarette butt with his shoe, then stooped to retrieve it. “Or worse. We need to move ahead our schedule.”
“But Mo—”
“I’ll tell him about the situation.”
“He’ll blame you for it.”
“I handle him, don’t worry.”
Göran looked more worried than before. “The other cells work as planned. If we fail our goal…”
“We won’t fail, Göran, so shut the fuck up!”
“You swear easily, Kamal. That is no good.”
“Some habits are hard to kill. Much harder than other things.”
“Or people.” Their grin was evil and short-lived. “What’re you going to do?”
“Clear the way for our victory.”
* * * *
Worried beyond belief, Michael hurried to the summerhouse after his return, but couldn’t find David. He couldn’t find traces of a fight, either, so he went back to the main house only to be surprised by Alyssa waiting for him in the shadows of the spa. She pulled him in a corner and into a breathless embrace to kiss him feverishly. Behind them, the machines for water purification hummed.
“I missed you so much, Matt. Where have you been? I was so worried!”
“I’m fine.” He checked if they were alone, then indulged into another kiss. “How are you?”
“Wretched. Tired. Full of fear that something terrible will happen. I want to go home, Matt. I want this all over!”
Michael remembered Kamal’s guards along the main entrance and agreed. “Listen, Al, I need to get into the second office.” She shook her head. “I have to get there, no matter what. If you don’t want to come, gimme the swipe card and the key.”
“I don’t want you to go there.”
Her care for him softened his expression. “I know, but it’s not open for discussion, Alyssa. I need to get there. Listen, these are bad people. You know that. But there’s more. Not only them, but many men more and someone coordinating what they do.”
“Do you want to kill them all?”
“I’m not a terrorist, Al, all I want is to get them under lock and key. So help me.”
She pouted. “I want to know if you just used me to get closer to Kamal. Or George. Be honest!”
“Alyssa, if I could I’d take you away from here on the spot and be gone with you. Doesn’t that tell you enough?” The moment he said it was the moment he realized how much he wanted her to be alive and stay at his side. He also realized that he didn’t want her to go to jail for her misdeeds. Love comes in most unexpected moments.
“You came here to spy on Lady Summerston.”
“I came here to work and find out if something’s wrong.”
“The many foreign employees.” Alyssa nodded so he didn’t answer. Again, she pulled him close enough to kiss and look him in the eyes. “Tell me that you love me, Matt.”
“I do love you, Alyssa. But time’s running out and I have a job to do. Will you help me?”
She cringed, but stood her ground. “I’m coming with you.”
“There might be guards around. I don’t want you endangered.”
“I take care of the guard while you go in and do what you have to. That’s the deal.”
“You’re one tough lady.”
She grinned. “If you’d said tough broad I’d have slapped you.”
“I might love being slapped.”
“Uh-hu, I’m in trouble here, Matt.” She fetched another kiss. “I want you down on my covers with nothing but your skin to wear. And I hate that I can’t get it right away.”
“Keep the thought. When this is all over—”
“When it is over! It seems such an awful long time.” She shook her head slowly as they walked around the building, taking care of being alone and unseen. “With my luck, you get another job to do, another mission, another place you’re needed.” Her gaze was sad and yet scrutinizing. “I’d love to believe you. I truly do. But I don’t want you to play hero.”
“If I can avoid it… It’s just a job that I’m good at.”
She frowned. “You say it like you don’t want to do it.”
Michael thought about that statement for a long minute. “Go ahead and meet me in ten minutes.”
“Okay.”
* * * *
Alyssa went ahead, carefree and smiling when she met Joshua in the basement. “Hey, Josh, do you have a moment for me?”
“Sure,
how can I help you?”
“You know, there was this shipment last week and I think they didn’t deliver all of it.”
“I’ll help you count.”
They went inside the wine cellar and Michael hurried downstairs on rubber soles, making no sound. With her approach to Joshua, Alyssa had confirmed that George and Kamal were not in the secret office. Michael opened the door, closed it behind him and pulled the swipe card through the slot. The second door opened soundlessly. He was in, surveyed the room quickly and found a shelf opposite the desk. Heart pounding, he pulled the small camera out from under his shirt, checked if it was working and installed it between two books on wines of France. It was slim enough to go unnoticed unless someone needed the books, but Kamal didn’t strike him as a great reader. Michael readjusted the angle so that the camera recorded what would show on the computer screen. Satisfied with his work, he left the office, listened at the door to the corridor and was relieved to be still alone when he exited. He heard Alyssa talk to Joshua, heard her complain about clumsy deliverance people and that two bottles were broken. Upon her shout about the mess, he was already on the top of the flight and ready to go to his room.
Peter eyed him suspiciously, eyes dangerous slits. “Lady Summerston expects you in her private quarters.” His tone gave away how much he disliked the lady’s choice.
“What for?”
“She wants to see you now. Follow me.” But he made no move to go first.
Heavy-heartedly, Michael moved forward. “It’s not really a good timing. I just returned from a date with a lady and—”
“Your explanations don’t concern me.”
Michael looked at him, dumbfounded. He needed to give back the swipe card to Alyssa. He needed to tell her that it had gone well. He needed to get Alyssa out of the house. He weighed his options. He might take out Peter, but what then? Grab Alyssa and run? He was sure that Kamal’s men were still out there, waiting for him. “You know what? I’ve never been to her quarters. Why doesn’t she meet me in her office?”
“She told me to bring you to her quarters.”
Michael interpreted the rest. Don’t fuck with me, I’m just the messenger. I don’t like you, I don’t want you near my lady, so better behave.
* * * *
Lady Summerston stood close to a larger than life soft green couch, trying to keep equanimity the only expression on her face. She smelled his cologne even from the distance and her stomach and chest tightened. To crave for a man this much was embarrassing. She felt like a whore, a woman fallen from grace and for a moment her decision wavered. Matthew smiled, a sudden good-boy-charm smile, and she melted down into a puddle of feelings she had forced away for a long time. Seeing Matthew walk closer, good-naturedly, playing the guileless guy who charmed the ladies in a row, her defenses fell like dominoes. Will he know what it cost me to confess my desires? Is he capable of returning those feelings or will I be another job for him, just a performance he gives to earn his money?
* * * *
The couch was decorated with enough pillows to last for a battle and looked so soft Michael wanted to sink into it and sleep. How can I be so tired? There was trouble ahead, he knew, and the only thing he wanted to do was rest. The lady smiled at him invitingly and that alone was so unnerving, Michael almost stopped dead in his tracks. Behind him, Peter closed the door from the outside.
Like the other rooms he had seen, Lady Summerston’s private living room was large in the true sense of the meaning. The designer furniture—main color green—only stressed the size. There were shelves and cupboards along the walls, an antique desk with an armchair and two more chairs in front of it. Flower pots with palms that reached up to the ceiling, stood along the high windows. Close to it and covered with green cloth that gleamed like satin, sat a large box of no defined use. Outside, the balcony was planted with lilies and daffodils. A set of white table with four chairs waited for guests.
“Come here and sit down.” Lady Summerston didn’t pat the backrest, but indicated where she wanted him with a movement of her chin.
“If you wish.” Michael took a deep breath and smiled amiably while his heart sped up and sweat trickled down his spine. His duties lay with Alyssa and to keep her safe. Hell, what am I doing here? He sat down, trying to look at ease. “What gives me the pleasure of this invitation?”
* * * *
She looked down at him and waited long with her answer. So many thoughts occupied her mind, it was irritating. “I thought about you.” With this ominous revelation, she took a few steps away from the couch, a Cheshire cat smile on her wrinkled face.
* * * *
“You did? How flattering.” Michael looked up to her, trying to read her face. Her eyes shone as if she had had a great day or had made a very important deal. He wished he knew how he fit into that scheme.
“You have a reputation by now, Matthew. The ladies appreciate your service.”
He smiled shyly. “I like going to the opera.”
She got the hint and, waving her finger, closed the gap to the covered box. “Beyond that, my boy, you are an apt and versatile callboy. So I was told.”
“Which hopefully reflects on your house.”
She leaned with her back against the box that reached up higher than her waistline. Her look said, Don’t slime too much because I know when you do. He humbly lowered his gaze. She put her hands on the edges of the box so that the massive golden bracelet slipped down to her wrist, tinkling. “Tell me what your last date was like.”
Michael caught the undertone of jealousy and frantically thought about how to handle it. He didn’t want her to be angry. In fact, he pondered to tell her that he needed help in arresting Kamal and his men. “You want details about my meeting with yet another Mrs. Smith? I learned that the policy of the house—”
“I am the house, you jerk! And if I ask you to fully disclose the details of your date you will do it.”
There was no friendliness in her voice, no lenience and not even business politeness. She wanted answers like a shark wants his prey and won’t stop until it got it. Michael suddenly understood that he was hardly more than a servant for her.
“You will answer me now, Matthew.”
“Hey, don’t shoot me for teasing you. It’s your rules, milady, which I follow.” Michael fought the urge to raise his hands in an I-give-up sign. Hell, she can be impatient! “She took me to a restaurant.”
“And?”
“I accompanied her as a dog on a leash.”
Lady Summerston’s face darkened and she lost the battle to keep her equanimity. “Did you like it?”
“Yes.” It seemed an odd question. He was here to serve. Michael had read about callboys. To do what their profession demands, most of them confess to shut off their minds to survive. Thinking too hard wouldn’t get you to do the things necessary to satisfy the customers.
“What else was involved?” Like a play of hand, she pulled the green cloth away.
“Nothing else, if you mean toys or something like—” His voice faltered. There was a steel cage beneath the cloth, large enough for two German shepherds. He swallowed.
“Like what?” Lady Summerston prompted as if she didn’t know the reason for his hesitation.
“Sex toys.” Michael looked up into her face, thoughts running amok. “I mean, it was just that she wanted me to undress, wear a collar and she held the leash.”
“And?”
The cloth fell. The cage was made of gray steel, had a dark, polished wooden floor and a large door, closed by a padlock. The thick bars were narrow enough that no dog snout would fit through.
“And she had dinner while I lay under the table.”
Lady Summerston patted the cage once that her bracelet tingled. “That was all?”
Michael nodded, his mouth suddenly dry like sand.
Lady Summerston didn’t look at him as she arched her brows and gently stroked the cold steel along its rim. “That doesn’t sound like her at all, but I
take your word for it. If you want to act to my bidding you’ll spend some time in this cage.”
Michael swallowed. The idea was great, but also risky and there were Alyssa and Kamal he had to take care of. He denied the longing feeling down in his loins. He wouldn’t do it. It wasn’t the time for gambling. “You’re kidding.”
Her gaze hit him hard, unrelenting, all friendliness gone. “Of course, I’m kidding. It’s your profession that will give you a heart attack. My heart’s stronger than yours. All the suspense—all this hide and seek. It will cost you.”
Her gaze was so sly Michael didn’t know how to stand it. He felt as if his life ran past him. Fast. Where did I make a mistake? He tried for a careful neutral glance and failed. She knew. She could read in his eyes and he sweated what she would propose next. He didn’t know any reply, witty or other. He just couldn’t cope with the double sensation of being teased and disclosed.
She lifted her brows, mockery adding to her steady gaze. “I thought you were the one for whom risky ideas are second nature, but I might be mistaken.”
He swallowed and forced his voice to work beyond the fast pulse in his throat. “We are talking about a limited space of time?”
She came back to the couch and sat down. Close, but not too close to be comfortable. She searched his eyes, searched for sincerity, for truthfulness. Michael realized that she had finally opened up and made the decision to call one of the boys to her home. It was an honor, a twisted honor somehow, but nonetheless an honor to be considered worthy to play with the lady.
