by Jo Davis
“I’ve never told a soul about it, until now.”
Emma bent and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “I can’t imagine how horrible that must’ve been for you. What happened after that?”
“I left home and never went back. I haven’t seen my father in twenty years.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. My life turned out just fine, thanks to my uncle and the rest of my family.” He gave her a smile to punctuate that statement, and she returned it. “We about done?”
“Almost.”Taking her cue that he’d closed the subject, she worked on stuffing his hair under a rubbery thing fitted to his skull — no easy task.
Next came the wig, styled clean-cut, over the ears… and silver. By the time she had the rug situated to her satisfaction and taped into place, he was dying of curiosity. Especially when she stepped back to survey her work and their two friends exclaimed in disbelief.
“Holy crap!”
“No way.”
“Can I look yet?”
She giggled. “You sound like a little boy. Sure, I guess I’m done.”
He stood, turned to the mirror. And his mouth fell open. “That’s kind of freaky. At least I don’t look anything like my father, thank God.”
“I think you make a very handsome older gentleman!”
“I’m glad you think so. You did an amazing job,” he assured her. “Everyone know their part?” Three voices answered in the affirmative. “Good. Let’s get going.”
They filed out, he and Ozzie wearing blue uniforms that included polo shirts stitched with the logo PARADISE CATERING over their pockets. The difference between them was that Blaze wore navy pants and Ozzie wore a skirt that showed off smooth, shapely legs and blue pumps.
“You’d have quite a future as a drag queen should you ever decide to give up dangerous covert op stuff,” Blaze remarked.
“Bite me, Dad.”
He laughed. Oz sashayed down the stairs, and he thought it weird and fascinating that a guy would be able to move like that, so gracefully. But that’s what made Ozzie good at what he did — being undercover and catching bad guys.
In the surveillance van, which Willis had parked in the back so it wouldn’t be seen from the street, Willis took the wheel while Emma sat in back with Blaze and Ozzie. Wouldn’t do for her to be seen, and besides, she was busy outfitting them with their electronics.
“These gold name tags are actually pinhole cameras. The hole in the center is hardly visible to the naked eye. They’ll ensure that Willis and I see and hear everything you do.”
“Cool.” Blaze took his, embossed with the name Bob. “There’s a microchip in here?”
“Yes. It’s not much thicker than a sheet of paper, and it’s no bigger than the nail on your pinkie.”
“Awesome,” Ozzie said, fascinated. His name tag had JANIE on it. “This high-tech stuff never ceases to amaze me. I feel like freakin’ James Bond.”
“Make that Janie Bond,” Willis snickered.
“Shut up, asshole.”
Blaze smothered a laugh. It really looked funny to hear that masculine expletive coming out of a “woman’s” mouth. “I sure hope you can halfway talk like a girl if you’re forced to say anything.”
“I can when I need to, hot stuff,” Ozzie replied in a sultry falsetto.
Blaze blinked at the younger man. “God, that was creepy. But good.”
“Thanks.”
Willis made a scheduled stop at a restaurant, picking up the catering they’d pass off as their own. Ozzie helped Emma load the white boxes of food onto the silver cart they’d stowed in the back of the van, and then but one crucial detail was left. Blaze palmed several tiny bugs and handed some to Ozzie.
“You know the drill — once we locate Kosta’s office, plant them wherever you can.”
“Got it.”
The rest of the ride progressed in silence, and the tension stretched taut. Each of them knew the dangers involved, but the risk must be taken. They couldn’t count on gleaning enough damning evidence simply from infiltrating Kosta’s group at the Velvet Underground. A good agent never put all his eggs in one basket, so to speak. The bugs would provide extra likelihood that they’d gain information they could pass on to Bastian and the president.
The building that housed Kosta’s company was twenty stories, the company itself taking up several floors. A bit of recon by Willis and Ozzie the day before had revealed Kosta’s office and conference room to be not on the top level, as they’d feared, but on the fourteenth floor. If they were stopped, it would be much easier to make the interrogator believe they’d gotten the wrong floor than if they had to go to the top.
Willis parked the van in the front drive and then got out and walked around back, casually helping him and Ozzie remove the serving cart before climbing in the back and closing the doors. A glance told Blaze that few people were about and none were paying them any attention. Lunch was still an hour away, and nobody would care about a pair of caterers setting up for a noon meeting.
He hoped.
Ozzie pushed the cart inside, and Blaze smiled at a pretty receptionist in the lobby, who gave him a blank stare and then completely ignored him. Shit. He’d forgotten he looked to be nearly seventy. Being old must suck. Though it was better than the alternative.
Once in the elevator, he let out a deep breath. They didn’t speak as it ascended, and when the door slid open, they found themselves in another lobby area facing a slightly more curious receptionist.
“May I help you?” Polite, but to the point.
“Why yes, young lady. We’re from Paradise Catering, here to set up lunch in the conference area,” Blaze said in his most fatherly voice. Like he’d know shit about being fatherly.
The lady frowned. “Um, I’m not aware of Mr. Kosta ordering lunch for his meeting today. Hold on just a minute while I find out.” She picked up the phone, punched in an extension. “Mr. Kosta? There’s a — my apologies, sir. I just need to ask — yes, sir. I’m sorry for bothering you.”
“Is everything all right, dear?” Blaze asked politely.
“Yes, I suppose so. He told me to handle it, so I’m guessing it’s fine for you to go ahead and set up in the conference room.” She waved a hand down the hall. “Third door on the right, across from Mr. Kosta’s office.”
“Excellent. Janie?” He waved a hand for Ozzie to follow and breathed a sigh when they were out of the woman’s sight. Another hurdle crossed. At the conference room door, Blaze held it open. “After you.”
Once they were inside, he closed the door behind them, and they set to work. Quickly and efficiently. They didn’t speak as they set out the catering boxes, pretending to take great care with the presentation of the food even as they placed the bugs in strategic spots — under the conference table, under two chairs, and one in the phone.
This done, Blaze nodded at his companion. They’d planned for Ozzie to remain here and protect their cover while Blaze tried to slip into Kosta’s office to plant the rest of the bugs. Easier said than done. Moving to the door, he eased it open a crack and saw that at some point in the last few minutes, the man in question had left his office. He wouldn’t get a better opportunity.
With a last glance at Ozzie, he peered right and left, then hurried across the hall and eased Kosta’s office door shut. Faster than he’d ever worked, he placed the devices in the phone, into a potted plant, and under the desk and a guest chair. He couldn’t do more to ensure success, and if Kosta held a single damning conversation, they’d record it. He’d just thought they might get away clean when Blaze heard raised voices from across the hall. One was Ozzie’s, exclaiming in a frightened woman’s voice.
Shit!
Blaze hurried back across the hall and into the room to find Kosta well into Ozzie’s personal space, fingers wrapped around the agent’s arm.
“I asked you a question,” he hissed. “What are you doing in here?”
Ozzie stared at the man, eyes wide. “
We’re from Paradise Catering, and we were just setting up for your luncheon! Please, let go of my arm.”
“I didn’t order any damned—”
“Excuse me,” Blaze interrupted in a chilly, cultured tone. “Is there a problem?”
Realizing the “lady” wasn’t alone, Kosta let go and stepped back, pinning Blaze with a glare. A glare that narrowed as he tilted his head, as though trying to work out a puzzle. “I didn’t order any luncheon for my meeting, so perhaps you can explain all of this food.”
That stare. Blaze’s heart did a slow roll in his chest. There was no way the man could possibly recognize him. “Obviously there’s been an error. Allow me to call my office and we’ll get to the bottom of this.” Extracting his cell phone, he placed a call to Willis and made the rehearsed speech, explaining that they’d delivered an order to the fourteenth floor of the Sands Building, and waited an appropriate length of time before exclaiming. “Oh, no! What are we going to do? Yes, all right.”
“Well?” Kosta demanded.
“It seems we have the wrong address! We’ll be lucky if we don’t lose our client over this,” he lamented. “Please accept the luncheon as our apology. We can’t possibly serve it to our first client now. We’ll have to go fetch another order for him.”
Kosta seemed placated by the idea of free food and smiled. A crocodile smile. “In that case, you’re forgiven. You can show yourselves out.”
The man turned and walked out, leaving them alone. They took the cart and split as fast as possible without attracting attention. Mission accomplished.
“Jesus, that was close,” Ozzie whispered as they exited the building and headed for the van. “That dude doesn’t have a soul in his body to be found.”
“I’ve noticed.”
He kept thinking about Kosta’s appraising stare. The recollection gave him goose bumps.
And then it hit him.
Despite their care and the success of their mission, they’d made a grave error today. One that might doom them all if Kosta figured it out.
When altering Blaze’s appearance, they’d completely forgotten to use colored contacts to hide his golden eyes.
“We didn’t use contacts.”
“What?” Emma studied Blaze’s grim expression. He settled across from her in the van and leaned his head back against the side, looking drained.
“We forgot about my eyes. Didn’t color them.”
Emma felt the blood leave her face. “Oh, crap. That’s all my fault! Do you think he recognized you?”
“No, but if he thinks about it, he could figure it out.”
“I’m such an idiot. I can’t believe I made such a crucial mistake,” she said miserably. God, she’d placed his life in danger. Unforgivable.
“Sweetheart, I didn’t think of it, either.”
“It’s not your job to think of those details. It’s mine!”
“We’re a team, Emma,” Ozzie reminded her. “We all dropped the ball on that one, but there’s no help for it now. We have to go on as planned.”
“That’s right,” Blaze agreed. “No choice. Tonight we keep our date with Kosta and his group, see what we can learn.”
A lump of ice settled in her gut. She wanted to call the whole thing off, but as he’d said, what choice did they really have? They had to find that weapon, period. There wasn’t time to bring in another team.
Their mood was pensive on the drive back. Worried. In under an hour, they’d bid good-bye to their friends with plans to be in motion that evening by nine. Everyone was to rest up for a long night.
Once inside, Blaze took her into his arms and held her tight. “It’s going to be all right, baby.”
She wasn’t so sure. “Make love to me. I want to forget all this for a while.”
“My pleasure, always.”
Upstairs, they shed their clothing piece by piece, never taking their eyes off each other until he disappeared into the bathroom.
“I’ll be just a minute.”
True to his word, he returned shortly, the wig gone and hair loose, most of the makeup washed from his face.
“Damn, I was kinda looking forward to getting done by my sugar daddy,” she teased.
He grinned. “We can save it for when I really am old.”
“You’ll never be old. Not in my eyes.”
Hands clasped, they moved to the bed, and he pushed her onto her back, melting against her body as though they shared the same skin, the same soul.
Her legs were nudged apart as he settled between her thighs, pressing his hard length into the soft cradle waiting for him. With one hand, he raised her arms above her head and pinned her wrists to the bed, sliding inside. Home.
His lovemaking wasn’t entirely gentle, but not rough, either. More like a passionate claiming, a man taking his lady to new heights. Letting her soar while keeping her safe.
She reached the pinnacle with a cry, bursting into a million shards. He followed after, thrusting deep, throbbing within her, face buried in the curve of her neck. She was floating down to earth thinking that in spite of this mission, her life with this man couldn’t get much better, when he raised his head, stared into her eyes, and proved her wrong.
“I love you, Emma Foster. I’ll cherish you until my last breath.”
Tears stung her eyes, and she twined her arms around his neck, drawing him to her lips. “I love you, too. And let’s make that last breath a long, long time from now.”
“It’s a deal, baby.”
As they snuggled, she shoved reality away for a few hours. This man was hers.
Danger and intrigue would have to wait.
Thirteen
Blaze escorted Emma into the Velvet Underground, striving to mask his dislike of the establishment. His first impression, that the place was a bit too polished, hadn’t changed. In addition, this second visit gave him the impression that the clientele was made mostly of poseurs. Wannabes. People hung out here to be able to say they lived the lifestyle when in truth they merely dabbled.
A more thorough inspection told him that most of the players were here to drink and fuck, and the vast majority had no idea what they were doing when it came to D/s. The rules were loose, mostly nonexistent, with no clue to the outsider who were the Doms and who were the subs.
All talk, no walk.
Blaze found a table against the wall, and they settled in to wait for Kosta and company. Adopting a casual pose, he pulled Emma to his side and ordered them a couple of drinks to nurse slowly. He draped an arm around her neck and let his fingers dip into the cleavage of her bustier, toying with the creamy swells of her breasts, just barely grazing a nipple. She wriggled, breath catching a bit, expression both aroused and uncomfortable. She might never be amenable to public sexual displays, but he didn’t mind. It showed a sweet, vulnerable facet to her that shied from showing off what belonged to him.
He’d decided that the delicate shell of her ear needed some serious nibbling and was making her giggle when a now-familiar and loathed voice cut into the fun. Ah, yes. They were here to work.
“I see you started without us. Having a good time?”
Blaze looked up at Kosta and the man with him, not liking the way the men loomed over him. Will he recognize me? God, he hoped not. He knew men like these, and the stance wasn’t accidental. “You bet we are. Have a seat,” he invited, waving at a couple of empty chairs.
“Don’t mind if we do.”
He took a moment to study the man with Kosta and recognized him from the file. Ralph Meyer. A stocky redhead who, while not unattractive, certainly wouldn’t fuel any fantasies on his part — or Emma’s, either, if he had to guess. Meyer was a rather plain man, his physique giving way to a bit of paunch around the middle in the way of desk jockeys all over. His eyes were cool and calculating as they swept him and Emma, sizing them up, though not in a sexual manner. Every nuance told Blaze that Meyer was all about the bottom line — money. And Blaze would bet his savings that Meyer was working out how be
st to divest them of as much green as possible.
Another fact hit him — why this club had been chosen for their activities. The Velvet Underground, being full of dabblers and not those seriously into lifestyle, made the perfect cover. None of these guys were very experienced with D/s, but very few in this place were, so the men wouldn’t stand out. Hell, meeting in dark corners was the norm.
He wondered where Major Fontaine was hiding, but wasn’t surprised he hadn’t come. If he were the major, he wouldn’t risk this meeting, either.
“Chase, I’d like for you to meet an associate of mine, Ralph Meyer,” Kosta said. “Meyer, this is John Chase and his lovely wife, Brandi.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Meyer said with a nod.
Blaze held out his hand, which the man shook. “Likewise. Brandi?”
Emma smiled briefly and then lowered her gaze. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, sir,” Blaze corrected firmly. Even though this scum didn’t deserve the distinction, he wouldn’t ignore the rules. If he did, these men might get suspicious.
“Oh, y-yes! I’m sorry, sir!”
Her lack of a blush and her tone were a dead giveaway to him that she wasn’t the least bit sincere in her apologies. The brat had dissed Meyer on purpose, though he was probably too thick to get it. Blaze let it go.
Meyer tilted his head, studying their interaction. “You two are really into this Domination/submission shit, huh?”
Okay, score one for Red for simply admitting he wasn’t all that into the scene. Clever, really. It lent him a certain ring of sincerity that would help win the trust of unsuspecting prey. He decided to counter with a question.
“You aren’t?” He knew, but he wanted to hear the man’s reaction.
Meyer shrugged. “Kosta got me coming here. It’s interesting, I’ll say that much. Might as well mix a little pleasure with business, ya know?”
Here we go. Excitement rushed through his veins like a hound dog on the scent, and he schooled his face to remain only mildly interested. “Business? What sort?”
