Undercover Encounter

by Rebecca York

  Until things settled down, he’d have to stay here. But really, it was a very nice environment. When he got home, he’d have to build himself several rooms like this—in his most important mansions.

  And there were some other touches he’d take back with him. Like the painted ceilings and the Greek columns in the living room. Perhaps he could persuade an architect from this city to move down to Nilia.

  Perhaps he should start Pedro looking for someone suitable. Someone who had a secret to hide. Someone who would go along with the deal because he had no choice.

  Ricardo walked around the fountain to the back door and stood gazing out at one of the gardeners who was trimming some of the hedges. The whole garden was a marvel. So lush and rich. And surrounded by a brick wall that gave perfect privacy.

  Satisfied with his domain, he strolled back to the little office off the dining room and picked up the report he’d received this morning.

  According to his plant manager, things were going well back home. The man was a business genius. He’d found a cheaper supply of the raw ingredient for the product that was already getting a reputation in New Orleans.

  And the chemist who cooked the compounds into that special Nilian brew was performing admirably. Of course, it helped to have the man’s wife and children in prison. He’d promised to release them when they could find a replacement for the chemist. But he wasn’t in any hurry. Slave labor was always a fine arrangement.

  WELL, ANOTHER FUN-FILLED day in the McDonough Club, Gillian thought as she finished a cup of afternoon tea on the sunporch. Half closing her eyes, she tried to pretend that she was a guest in an elegant mansion. And that Alex was in the chair beside her. As it often did, her mind drifted to him—pretending they were having a conversation.

  She didn’t want to talk about her life as she was living it now. And dwelling on their few months together made her feel too vulnerable. So she silently told him stories from her past. Like the time she’d stolen a piece of cake from the kitchen and hidden it in her room—and the ants had gotten to it. Mom had caught her throwing it in the trash. She’d told Gillian that was a lesson in honesty.

  She switched to better memories and told him about the time she’d gotten to be the fairy princess in the school play and Mom had made her a crown covered with aluminum foil. And they’d pasted on sequins they’d gotten from the dollar store.

  She grinned to herself and told him another story about Dad helping her learn to ride a bike. Or the times Dad had brought home produce from the grocery store that was on the edge of going bad, but Mom had been able to cook it up and use it just fine.

  Thinking about the good times helped ground her. Helped her cope with the nights and days in this place that were falling into a distinct pattern. In the evenings she took men up to her room and drugged them. While they were sleeping, she searched their clothing and reported their names and anything of interest to the agents listening in the van. When the johns woke up, she told them they’d been fantastic in bed. She still hated the work. But she wasn’t as nervous about it as she had been in the beginning. In fact, she was downright pleased with how well she was pulling it off.

  By day she interacted with the other women in the house and tried to collect more information on the drug distribution operation. Mostly she got along with everybody, although a few times Babs had gone out of her way to make some cutting remarks. Gillian had ignored them, although she’d wondered what she’d done to set the woman off.

  She kept the question to herself, because it wasn’t important enough to mention it to Alex. Or whoever was out there in the van, watching over her.

  After looking over her shoulders she stepped into a back corridor. There were quite a few rooms she hadn’t explored. And she was making a point of searching a new one each day. Maybe she’d get lucky and find a stash of the drug hidden in one of the antique chests, she speculated with a snort. They were more likely locked in the madam’s office. But she couldn’t exactly search there.

  She had learned to be aware of her surroundings at all times. She had taken only a few steps down the hallway, when she picked up on voices coming from behind one of the closed doors. Stopping short, she cupped her hand around her ear and leaned toward the door. One of the speakers was a strident-sounding man who was obviously ordering someone around. Was Gaspard back? She hadn’t seen him for a few days. And she’d almost wiped away that feeling of revulsion he’d given her. She had hoped never to see him again.

  Now she froze in place, wondering what to do. Back away? Or try to figure out what was going on in the room.

  Hearing the rasp of the doorknob, she ducked quickly around the corner and pressed her shoulders against the wall.

  She’d thought of a cover story earlier. She had a headache, and one of the other women had told her there was aspirin in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom down here. As she heard someone step into the hall, the story sounded flimsy.

  Her heart blocking her windpipe, Gillian waited for footsteps to come in her direction. But they went the other way and she felt as though she’d made a miraculous escape.

  Risking a peek around the corner, she saw Frank standing in the hallway. He wasn’t as threatening as Gaspard, but still she didn’t want him to know she was there—spying.

  Luckily, his attention was focused firmly on a woman— Dolly, to be exact. He had her arm in a grip that looked like it might leave a bruise.

  “I don’t like going to that bar,” Dolly was saying.

  “Too bad.”

  “Why can’t one of the other girls do it this time?” she whined.

  “’Cause it’s your turn, and you’re good at reeling them in.” He gave a nasty laugh. “I guess you have a way with druggies.”

  “But…”

  “The way I heard it, a lot more of you girls will be going out to the bars,” Frank snapped. “Not just from this house.”

  A door closed and the sound of the voices was muffled now.

  What bar? Was Dolly being sent to Bourbon Street Libations? Did she have the job of bringing men here who had been dosed by Jack the bartender? And did Frank’s remark mean that they were expanding the operation?

  There was no way of knowing that.

  She tried to think about the girls she’d met here. There were about fifteen of them. And they were never all in the lounge at the same time, even at the beginning of the evening. Did that mean that most of them were being rotated to bar duty—except for the new hire who was still on probation? Were they bringing in men who had been drugged like Wiley Longbottom?

  Gillian edged toward the corner of the hallway, wondering if she could hear any more. She had taken only a couple of steps when someone called her name.

  “Gillian?”

  Struggling not to look guilty, she swung back toward the parlor. Pam was standing at the end of the hall. Pam again. Funny how she was always turning up. But at least it wasn’t Babs. Probably she would have called the madam to ask Gillian why she was out of the part of the house that the women frequented.

  Now she pasted an inquisitive look on her face. “Yes?”

  “There’s a guy asking for you.”

  She took a quick look at her watch. They weren’t on duty for another two hours. “But it’s still early.”

  “I know. Apparently he heard you were great, and he’s leaving town this evening. So he came in and made a special request.”

  “How does he even know about me? I’ve only been here a week?”

  “I guess you’re already getting a reputation for being an excellent bed partner, you know.”

  “Oh great,” Gillian muttered under her breath. It was so early that she hadn’t yet taken the antidote to the drug that she gave her customers. Now what was she going to do?

  “Look like you’re happy as a lark,” Pam advised.

  “Right.”

  Keeping her expression open, she walked rapidly back down the hall, glad that she was dressed and not wearing a robe.

&nbs
p; In the doorway to the parlor, she glanced around. It was too early for the usual crowd of women and their custom ers. There were just Madam Dupré, looking a little anxious, and one man standing by the window with his back to the room.

  “Gillian, I’m glad you could join us,” the madam said.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t quite ready,” Gillian said, aware that Pam hadn’t gone back to her room.

  “I understand. I appreciate your coming down a little early.”

  The man who had been talking to the mistress of the house was now looking eagerly toward the door. As his gaze fixed on Gillian, she felt goose bumps rise on her bare arms. She’d been thinking it was good she was dressed. Now she felt like she might not have bothered, because this guy was obviously peeling away her clothing with his sharp gaze. Most guys were more subtle in the parlor. But he zeroed in on her breasts and she had to press her arms to her sides to keep from folding them across her chest.

  The john looking at her as if she were a piece of prime steak in the meat cooler was short and heavy, somewhere in his fifties, she judged, with thinning dark hair pasted across the top of his head. A gold pin shone in the lapel of what was obviously an expensive suit. And she caught the strong smell of garlic on his breath.

  “Charles is one of our most valued customers. He was anxious to get together with you,” Madam Dupré said.

  Gillian managed to make a small uming sound. She disliked this man on sight. But no one had ever told her if it was all right to refuse an offer of employment within the boundaries she’d set, and she suspected that she would be in big trouble if she tried it now. Especially with a customer that the madam valued.

  “I’m so honored that you asked for me,” she said sweetly.

  “My friend Jimmy told me you’re the best.”

  Jimmy. Well, she knew he’d left her room thinking they’d had a great time in bed.

  “How flattering.”

  “Why don’t you two go upstairs,” the madam suggested. “Charles has a plane to catch later this evening.”

  “Of course,” Gillian agreed.

  He crossed the room, and as she turned, he flattened his fleshy palm against her bare back. It was all she could do to keep from cringing.

  Her teeth were clenched as she climbed the stairs, her mind scrambling for some way to get out of this situation. Up till now, she’d felt like she was handling this job. Until today she’d avoided having sex with any of the men who had come to her room. But always before she’d taken the antidote. This afternoon she hadn’t had a chance yet. Now what was she going to do?

  “Which way?” the man behind her asked, and she realized that she’d stopped at the top of the steps.

  BABS STARTED TO STEP OUT of her room, then stepped back and pulled the door closed, so that there was only a narrow crack. In the hallway she could see Gillian Stanwick with Charles.

  Charles!

  She’d been thinking she was going to see him soon. She’d been thinking that maybe he liked her enough to get her out of this place. Set her up somewhere in town in a nice apartment. He’d talked about doing that. Now here he was sauntering down the hall after Gillian Stanwick like she was the Pied Piper and he was a rat!

  Usually when he came here, he asked for her. But obviously his good friend had told him about that new bitch. And he wanted to try her out.

  What was so special about her, anyway? She was pretty. But she wasn’t a real looker. Did she do something kinky in bed? What? One thing Babs knew: she was going to make Gillian Stanwick wish she’d never set foot in this house.

  “THIS WAY.” Gillian led the john down the hall, then ushered him into the room.

  As soon as she’d closed the door, he reached for her, lowering his mouth.

  “You know we’re not allowed to kiss,” she said sharply, pushing at his chest.

  “I thought if I gave you a nice big tip, you’d be willing to give me some extra consideration.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t break Madam Dupré’s rules. I haven’t been here long, and I want to keep my job.”

  “I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble,” he said, his voice knife-edged.

  “Thank you.”

  “Take off your dress,” he said with a commanding note in his voice. “I want to see what you’ve got.”

  She had hoped she could offer him a drink when they got up here so she could palm a tablet and take the antidote. Now she knew she’d be taking too big a risk by going against his wishes. Madam Dupré had made it clear this man had better give a good account of their time together.

  Fighting not to clench her jaw, she reached for the zipper at the back of her dress. As she pulled at the tab, she imagined Alex listening to the gruff order her guest had issued.

  Don’t come rushing in here, Alex, she silently pleaded. I can handle this, and if you burst in, you could blow my cover.

  ALEX SWORE, turning the air blue in the surveillance van. He’d been spending every evening listening to Gillian in her bedroom with a succession of slimeball guys who wanted to get their jollies with a prostitute. The strain was tearing him apart. And Rich had suggested that he take a break. But he’d stuck with the assignment, because not knowing what was going on was worse than having to listen to the action.

  Now he conjured up an image of the scene behind Gillian’s closed door and he felt his throat constrict. “A kiss!” he rasped. “What the hell is going on in there? First she’s off the mike for forty minutes. Next thing, she’s upstairs with a john—in the damn afternoon.”

  He reached to turn up the volume. “It’s much too early for her to be working. Listen to her. I’ll bet she hasn’t even taken the antidote.”

  Behind him, Rich murmured something that could have been agreement.

  “I’m going in there.”

  As soon as the declaration was out of Alex’s mouth, his partner put a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Give it a few minutes. If she gets into trouble with that guy, you can scare the spit out of him with the fire bell.”

  Alex glanced back at the other New Orleans Confidential agent, thinking that the tactic might work. Since Gillian had moved into the house, they’d rigged a remote control that would turn on the fire alarm. “Okay. But I’m not going to let that bastard paw her up.”

  Gillian’s voice blared out from the microphone, making Alex jump, and he reached to quickly turn the volume down again so that passersby on the street wouldn’t hear the conversation in the private bedroom.

  The john was speaking again. “Now take off your bra. I want to see those nice tits of yours.”

  Her answer came out cool and collected. “Just let me get a drink of water first.”

  He heard water running and hoped to hell she was taking the antidote to the drug. But even after she did, she was going to have to wait fifteen minutes before she could give the guy the amnesiac stuff.

  “That’s better,” the man’s voice finally said, and Alex winced as he pictured Gillian standing there with her breasts bare.

  What did this particular slimeball look like? He imagined a guy with powerful muscles who could overpower Gillian if she refused to cooperate.

  His attention snapped back to the microphone as Gillian spoke again, her voice low and intimate. “Let me tell you an idea I have for something special,” she purred. “Something I think you’re going to like.”

  “Yeah? What?”

  “A little game a lot of my clients have found very exciting. Have you ever had a woman tie you up? And then do very erotic things to your body.”

  “I’ve never done anything like that.”

  “I guarantee that surrendering completely to a woman’s touch is very stimulating.”

  “You guarantee that?” he asked, his tone insinuating.

  “Absolutely,” she answered warmly.

  “Well, if I don’t like being tied up, we can try it the other way. I’ll handcuff you to the headboard.”

  “That’s fine.”

  Alex swore again
. “I thought she told the madam she wouldn’t do that.”

  “She’s not going to do it now. She’s got him on the hook. Give her a chance to reel him in,” Rich whispered.

  Alex clamped his fingers around the edge of the table, welcoming the feel of the hard metal digging into his hand.

  Over the microphone came a noise that sounded like a case being opened.

  The man’s nervous voice followed almost immediately. “What are those?”

  “Just ropes. Part of my bondage kit. Why don’t you take off your clothes, lie down and get comfortable.”

  “And we can stop any time I want?” he asked, an edge of nerves in his voice.

  “Of course. You’re the one in complete control.”

  Rich snorted. “Yeah. Way to go, girl.” He glanced at Alex and grinned. The grin grew wider as they both heard the rustle of clothing, then the creak of bedsprings.

  “That looks so erotic,” Gillian cooed. “Just let me secure your wrists and ankles. I’ll use easy knots, so we can untie you quickly if that’s what you want. But I don’t think you’ll ask to be untied until I’ve had my wicked way with you.”

  Alex waited with his stomach in knots as they listened to her moving around. She was humming as she worked. Then she was whispering low sexy words that made Alex lower his eyes toward the table. What the hell was she doing to the guy? He burned to know, yet at the same time, he didn’t like the picture etching itself into his brain.

  “Are you comfortable?” Gillian purred.

  “Yes.”

  There was a pause and Alex strained to hear what was going on. “I love your chest.”

  “Um.”

  “That feels good, doesn’t it?”

  “You know it does, baby,” the man answered, his voice slightly slurred.

  “Thank God,” Alex breathed. “She gave him the stuff.”

  “I told you she knows what she’s doing,” Rich crowed.

  “Yeah,” Alex answered, acting like he hadn’t been about to jump out of his skin as he listened to what was going on in the room.

  GILLIAN LOOKED DOWN with distaste at the whalelike body sprawled on her bed. This guy had given her the willies when he was fully dressed. Naked, he was positively repulsive. But she’d rendered him harmless. She hoped.