by Lee, Taylor
Looking at the sea of faces in front of her, all demanding her attention, Lexie sucked in a deep breath. If only Jake were here, he would organize this rabid group. He’d make sure that she had time to eat and rest, and do it without ruffling a single feather. His commanding presence alone would be sufficient. But he wasn’t here and wouldn’t be coming. Rather than give in to her personal distress, she reminded herself of the golden opportunity she had to make her case. She’d tried to focus attention on the plight of terrified exploited women and now she had the platform. She’d fought for three years to get this kind of attention from the press. They were critical to carrying her mission forward. Without their help she couldn’t get to the root of the problem. Exposing the evil organizations that owned the brothels… and the men who hid behind them.
Squaring her shoulders, she determined to make the most of the chance to press her case—and the case of the women she championed. Exhaustion could wait. And so could agonizing over the threatening messages she received. There was another text this morning. This time the photograph showed her being raped by a group of men with hoods over their heads. She tried for humor, reminding herself that she was making progress. After all, in the picture yesterday, she was dead. Even she knew there was nothing funny about the situation. She wished she had someone she dared to show the pictures to.
As she prepared to answer a question, she saw a uniformed policeman enter. He looked familiar. She thought she’d seen him with Dan and Mark. Excusing herself from the reporters, she motioned for him to come into her office. Master Wan appeared out of nowhere and followed them in, closing the door behind himself.
Lexie felt a sense of relief when she saw that the tall man was smiling at her. She gratefully returned his smile. Noting his name on his uniform, she introduced herself.
“Good morning, Officer Stevens. I’m Lexie Beloi and this is Master Wan. This is our studio. How can I help you?”
The young officer’s smile broadened.
“Yes, Ma’am. I know who you are. You are famous.”
Lexie and Master Wan both laughed.
“I think a more accurate description might be ‘infamous,’ but whichever I am, it has brought you here. How can I help you?”
“Captain Rourke and the Colonel wanted to be sure that you knew we were here, and to offer our help.”
Lexie couldn’t hide her surprise, or the twinge of fear that streaked over her sensitive nerves. “I don’t understand. I wasn’t aware that you were here, Officer. Is something wrong?”
“No, Ma’am. But the Colonel in particular thought you might need some help with the newspeople who are beating down your door. We’ve been trying to keep the street clear in front of your studio so that your students can come and go. But you know how pushy the press can be.”
Lexie gave a sigh of relief.
“Thank you, Officer Stevens. And yes, if this keeps up, we’re going to need help making sure that our students aren’t stopped by the press or in any way hassled. The problem is that it is important that I talk to the press. This is our chance to focus attention on the awful situation in the massage parlors.”
“I understand, Ma’am. That’s what the Colonel told us. We can’t interfere but we wanted you to know if you need help, we’re here.”
Lexie had to ask.
“Um. How long have you been here?”
The young officer smiled.
“Me personally, Ma’am? My shift started at four o’clock this morning. But just so you know, we have men here around the clock. At least four for each shift.”
Lexie glanced over at Master Wan, and saw that unlike her he wasn’t surprised. Why she was, she didn’t know. Of course, Jake would place guards around their center. And of course, Master Wan would be aware of it. She wanted to be angry. Wanted to tell this young officer to go back and tell the ‘Colonel’ that she could take care of herself. But her anger wouldn’t come. She was too relieved. Now maybe she could stop worrying, and get back to the reporters who were waiting for her. And maybe, just maybe, at some point today she could sneak back to her room and take a quick nap. She needed to do something to prepare for this evening. Peter,
Dalila, and Jake. Dear God. What was she letting herself in for?
~~~
“The news isn’t good, Sir. As you would expect, there is significantly increased chatter in reaction to the hearing yesterday. Given the sites we monitor, much of it is negative.”
Jake drilled the chubby, sallow-cheeked man with a hard glare. He knew better than to let the badly cut hair, ill-fitting chinos, Lady Ga-Ga t–shirt, and empty bags of barbecued pork rinds littering his desk undercut the guy’s information. Even in the military, where Lloyd wouldn’t have made it through the first two hours of basic training, there was something different about the techies. The guys who you literally had to drag out of their cubicles to take a piss. Five minutes away from their screens and they were convinced they’d missed the start of Armageddon.
“What are they saying about Lexie?” No need to say her full name. The screensavers in every cubicle he’d poked his head in had some tribute to her. There were the ‘ass-men’, the tit-men’ and the guys who got off on blonde hair. Occasionally you ran into one who lusted after the total package. On many of those screens was a running montage in the corner. It was like watching a high tech version of the primitive animated flip books. Eventually all of Lexie’s discrete body parts became the beautiful woman he was in love with.
The sallow-faced guy who probably hadn’t seen natural light in a fortnight shrugged.
“What do you expect from pimps and brothel bosses? They hate her. The big game in that part of the ether is to see who can come up with the most disgusting way to ‘off’ her. Wanna tell you, there are some sick fucks out there, Jake.”
Jake dragged his fingers through his hair and muttered, “Like that’s news. But you know what I’m looking for, Lloyd. Anything smell like the syndicates?”
Jerking his t-shirt over a hairy belly that hadn’t seen the inside of a gym since Jr. High required P.E., Lloyd scrubbed at his chin.
“Wish I could say no, cuz these guys are as bad fucks as you ever want to run into, on the screen, and sure as hell not in person. Ever heard of the Kkangpae, Colonel?”
“The gangs that front for the Jopok? Yeah, Lloyd, I’ve heard of them. Ask my friend Brady about the one and only time he and I almost didn’t make it out of a fight the victors. Hell, we were lucky to get out alive. Those sons of bitches have serious skills, if your only intent is to beat a man—or woman—to death as quickly as possible. Their motto is no finesse, just kill the bastards. I guess I’ll ask. What are you hearing?”
“Let’s just say, Colonel, more than gentlemen prefer blonds. So do ruthless Kkangpae killers. They’re makin’ threats, Jake. And takin’ numbers as to who will get her first. Them or the pimps. Everyone in our sick pool is betting on the Kkangpae”
Chapter 21
Twirling the keys to her 1958 Camaro over her index finger, Lexie tossed the valet an impudent grin. The slender strawberry-blond-haired man stared at her for a moment, and did a double-take. A shock of recognition lit his face. He stumbled three steps back and his hand crept to his mouth. His eyes dancing with excitement, he glanced quickly from side to side then leaned in over the top of the car door. He whispered as if he were telling her a secret he didn’t want anyone else to hear.
“You… you’re her!” His voice rose in an excited squeak. “You are, aren’t you? Aren’t you her?”
Lexie laughed in delight at his astonished gaze, as if somehow she would deny who she was. She almost giggled and then said as seriously as she could, given the silliness of it, “Yes, I confess. I am me.” Then, not able to hold back her grin, she said in a conspiratorial undertone, “But let’s not tell anyone. We’ll make it our little secret, okay? But first, just to be sure, who do you think I am?”
The fair-skinned youth flushed a bright dusky pink. The color clashed with his r
ed-gold hair, and even worse with the dark maroon of his uniform cap.
“Everyone knows you. You’re the Blonde Barracuda, right?”
There was something so unabashedly genuine about his excitement that Lexie couldn’t help but be charmed. And damn, she hadn’t even stepped out of her car. He hadn’t had time to ogle her boobs, leer his way over her hips or bottom or comment on her shoes. No, he was thrilled to meet ‘her.’ And in Lexie’s mind, the ‘her’ was the woman who had stood before the City Council and exposed a travesty that they could no longer ignore. Damn: if even hotel valets recognized her, that was some powerful performance she’d put on. No wonder every political hack in the city was cozying up to her. Maybe her expose had hit more nerves than even she’d realized.
Now, if she could just hang on to this tiny thread of pleasure and forget what a horrible night this was going to be. How could she have known when Peter asked her to be his guest at the event that it was such a big deal? When he invited her, they were in the middle of planning for the Council presentation. She assumed it was a political dinner and that she would have a chance to lobby some of the local pols. She was shocked to discover that Peter was accepting a major award. Then she learned that none other than Dalila’s agency was sponsoring the dinner. The fact that Jake and Brady would also be there, at the head table no less, was too bizarre, too coincidental, to be a fluke. No, Lexie knew that a green-eyed witch had arranged that piece of the action. Dalila’s motives were crystal clear. She wanted Jake. It amazed Lexie. As smart, as strategic as Jake was, he truly thought he’d neutralized Dalila. That she had given up on him. That she no longer wanted him. That she’d conceded him to Lexie. How foolish men were. Even Jake. He didn’t understand just how destructive his former paramour was.
As a fighter, though, Lexie couldn’t help but be impressed. The woman played to win. If Dalila had to lose a few skirmishes along the way, so be it. Yesterday Delila delighted in taunting Jake, waving the red flag of Peter in his face. She seemed unfazed by Jake’s anger. Why else would she have so openly provoked it? But Lexie saw the move for what it was—smart and strategic. Yes, when Jake stormed out of the hearing room he was clearly angry with Dalila. But he was furious with her. Lexie conceded: Dalila won that point.
Lexie saw how hurt Jake was that she was going to the Gala with Peter. His pain was as visible as his anger. How it must rankle. She knew how possessive Jake was. Did Dalila understand that? Of course she did. Dalila must think that Jake would be so angry at Lexie’s “infidelity,” at publically humiliating him, that he would turn to her for solace. In her soul, at the heart of her, Lexie did not believe that Jake would do that. She knew how much Jake loved her. But on another more insecure level—the place that had bedeviled her all of her life—she was terrified that Dalila was right. Lexie’s heart pounded frantically at the thought.
In the swirl of madness that comprised the last two days, when it was hard to make sense of anything, Lexie tried to figure out what Peter’s role was. She knew he liked her and enjoyed being seen with her. But he also knew that she and Jake planned to marry. She had not mentioned her rift with Jake. But Peter had to have noticed Jake’s absence at her side. And of course, Dalila would have planted seeds. Was it possible that Dalila and Peter had collaborated? Worked together to engineer this twisted game of ‘one-ups-man-ship’? In Lexie’s mind, that was unlikely at best. Peter seemed above such shenanigans but Lexie had to admit, nothing seemed above or beneath Dalila. Which made her the most frightening opponent Lexie had faced.
After a very long arduous day, soaking in an overdue bubble bath, Lexie made a decision. She couldn’t control Peter or for that matter, Jake. And God knows no one could control or should underestimate Dalila. But she could control her own actions. Peter indicated that he would pick her up at 7 p.m.; Lexie left a message for him that she would come by herself. She didn’t want to drive up to the Gala in Peter’s snazzy car. She wanted the comfort and freedom of her own restored vintage automobile. She would arrive when she chose, and she would leave when she chose. Twenty-six press interviews, teaching two classes, getting ready for the event, and spending every alone minute agonizing over the situation with Jake did have one plus. The punishing schedule prevented her from thinking about the very personal and very ugly threats she’d received yesterday and this morning. While the text messages were frightening, they were less personal somehow. They could have come from anywhere. But the envelope she’d found slipped in the podium at the Government Center was real, tangible. Someone at the event, in the same room with her, had left the note. A shiver stoked her fear. She preferred the anonymity of the text.
Knowing that Jake had guards surrounding their Center allowed her to relax somewhat. Not that she thought anyone would attack her in broad daylight with dozens of news people around. And of course, tonight she’d have more attention than any woman should have. Between Brady and Peter and of course, Jake, she would be extremely protected. In fact—overprotected. It wasn’t until she was in her car heading for the Gala event that she considered for the first time the disadvantage of insisting on driving herself. She was alone. Very much alone.
~~~
Jake was watching for her. It was past 7:30 and he’d understood that the sit-down portion of the dinner would begin 8 o’clock. She should be here by now. His crack undercover team wouldn’t miss Peter’s black and silver Jag, but so far it hadn’t been spotted. Dalila and Brady had come over several times to offer him a drink or conversation. Jake was so stoic that even Brady went looking for better company—or as he said, a door knob that did more than grunt. After the third negative message over his comm, just when he’d decided it was time to call Dan Rourke to put out an APB, he saw her. Correct that, he saw them.
The crowd parted to let her through. She was a glittering column of gold. Gold-streaked hair, sun-tanned golden skin, and a sparkling gold dress. The shimmering gold sheathe clung to her voluptuous body. It was slit up the front to a risqué level. Jake knew she never wore panty hose, they were too constricting. Which meant that the silky coverings on her show girl legs were thigh-high lace-topped stockings—his favorite. The absence of a panty line confirmed that she was wearing her usual scanty thong, or, damn her, no panties at all. He refused to believe that. She was with Peter, after all.
The halter top of her dress was almost modest. It was fastened in a tight thin collar at her neck. But, even fully covered, her breasts made their presence known. Unrestricted by a bra, they swelled enticingly against the iridescent fabric when she moved. But it was the back of her dress that took his breath away. And he presumed that of every man in the room under one hundred years of age. Essentially the dress was backless. By some miracle of construction, her back from her neck to slightly below her waist was bare. The fabric sheathed her curvy hips and bottom. The lithe, toned muscles of her back melding into the soft feminine curves of her hips and ass were breathtaking.
When he could breathe again, a soft growl escaped his constricted chest. A red haze shadowed his eyes when he saw Peter’s hand on her lower back.
Brady gripped his arm and murmured, “Down, boy.”
Jake knew it was a lost cause. There was no way that he could make it through this hideous evening without exploding. It was a matter of time. For now, his choices were minimal. He could stand back and do what he had to do—which was to ensure her safety. Or he could toss her over his shoulder and carry her caveman style to his hidden lair and never let her out again. For the moment, he chose the civilized approach. He even swallowed his growl.
Something akin to joy flooded him when she met his gaze. Her eyes widened and she didn’t attempt to hide her excited response. Relief combined with lust brought his prick to attention. He had to physically constrain himself to pull back. Not to reach for her. A questioning frown marred her smooth brow at his restraint. He didn’t try to understand his reaction. His joy at seeing her dissolved into cold hard anger. She was breathtakingly beautiful, as stunning as he had
ever seen her. But she was not with him. She was with the distinguished man beside her, who was guiding her into the room, his hand at her elbow. The possessive gesture filled Jake with rage. But for Brady’s strong grip, he would have charged.
Lexie was shocked at the sight of Jake. He was stunningly handsome in his black tie formal attire. His tousled hair hung rakishly over his forehead. The fine web of lines surrounding his gleaming blue eyes declared his penchant for laughter. His tall muscled body was more apparent than ever in the incongruous formality of his tailored jacket and slim trousers. But it was his aura of subtle sensual power that captured her, drew her in, and made her long to go to him. She wanted his arms around her, to feel the press of his strong body against hers, to hear his crooning murmurs in her ear. For a split second she saw that his need was as strong as hers. But then a dark shadow crossed his face. Anger replaced desire. Cold distance filled the space between them. If he’d thrown a pail of icy water in Lexie’s face, it wouldn’t have been more shocking. She’d dressed for him. Every article of clothing, every scrap of lace was meant to entice him. To draw him to her. But from his barely contained rage when he looked at Peter, she saw that he misunderstood. He thought her provocative dress was for Peter, not for him. A wave of sadness, akin to despair flooded her. They passed within inches of one another but were miles apart. He merely nodded to her and turned to go to their table. If he’d struck her, it couldn’t have hurt more. Only Brady’s tug on her arm and quick kiss on her cheek kept her from bursting into tears.
Brady murmured, “What am I going to do with you two? Dammit, hotshot, between you and Jake, you’re a full-time job. You’re either fighting or fucking. Gotta say, at least it’s entertaining as hell.”
Lexie startled at his outrageous remark, but it brought her to the present. And the present was filled with danger. In the person of Dalila. Lexie’s heart clutched at the sight of the beautiful woman. She was dressed in black, a sophisticated counterpart to Lexie’s sparkling glory. As always, she knew just what to say to puncture Lexie’s confidence.
