by Tawny Taylor
Was he upset? Why?
Feeling a little uncomfortable, Mandy stood, tugging her skirt back down where it belonged. She grabbed her shirt and yanked it over her head. “I guess I should be going,” she mumbled, tottering toward the door. She’d have to walk past him to leave. She had a feeling it was going to be awkward for some reason.
Sure enough, as she shuffled by him, he grabbed her arm. There’d be no quick escape.
His gaze snapped to hers. She couldn’t read his expression.
“You forgot something.”
She did?
Oh! “Camera.”
He pulled it from his pocket and placed it in her upturned palm. His fingertips grazed her skin. That tiny touch sent a wave of electricity buzzing through her whole body.
“Thanks for not breaking it this time,” she said.
“You were almost caught. You don’t want that to happen.”
“I hear you.”
His gaze intensified. “Whatever the client is paying, it isn’t worth it.”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss my case.” She shoved the faux lighter into her pocket. “Speaking of cases, I’m sorry but I can’t accept your generous job offer.”
He didn’t look surprised. His mouth tensed ever so slightly. “Very well.”
“I appreciate the offer.”
“Sure.”
Now she felt really, really uncomfortable. She pulled her arm. Thankfully, he released it. “I guess I’ll see you around.” Feeling some sense of relief, she passed through the doorway.
Maybe he was right. Maybe she needed to find another way to catch Clark in the act. Clearly, this was getting her nowhere fast. At least, no closer to collecting another paycheck.
He stopped her again, this time by looping an arm around her waist and hauling her back against him. His body was hard and hot. A very pronounced rigid lump was pressing into her spine. He gathered her hair and brushed it over one shoulder. She stood there, immobile, and just about melted.
“I don’t know what it is about you.”
“I don’t know either,” she mumbled, letting her head fall back.
Holding her tight, he tongued her earlobe. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
She had to admit, but only to herself, she’d been thinking about him, too. More than she wanted to. “I ... I don’t know what to say.”
He loosened his hold, but only to coax her around to face him. His eyes were dark as he stared down at her, full of emotions. Before she figured out what he was feeling, he kissed her. While his mouth claimed hers, he backed her into the wall. She was trapped. She was at his mercy. And, ohmygod, she wasn’t about to try to escape.
She’d kissed her share of men in her life, but none had kissed like Zane. He made kissing an art. With soft lips, agile tongue, and occasionally teeth, he drove her into a state of desperation. She tried to fling her arms up over his shoulders, but grabbed her wrists and held them at her sides, flat against the wall. He wedged a knee between her legs, and her hips started slowly rocking back and forth. Her center ached for his touch. Her whole body did.
He mumbled into her mouth, “I want my pussy.”
His pussy wanted him, too.
Next thing she knew, she was being walked back into his room. The door slammed shut. Her clothes were removed, one piece at a time, while he tasted and licked and nibbled on just about every inch of her exposed skin.
This was really going to happen. She was going to let this man have her, fuck her, if that’s what he wanted.
Abruptly he stopped, looked at her. His expression was ... troubled?
“Is something wrong?” she asked, struggling to inflate her lungs. She fingered her kiss-swollen lips with one hand while making a half-assed attempt at covering herself with the other. “You seem conflicted.”
“I don’t fuck my submissives.”
He didn’t? Her pussy clenched. Did that mean he wouldn’t fuck her? Right now, that was kind of disappointing to hear. “I see.”
“I don’t kiss them either.”
What was he trying to say?
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
He shoved his fingers through his hair and audibly sighed. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
“Say what?” Her skin was cooling off. She was actually starting to feel a little chilled.
He removed his jacket and wrapped it around her. It was a sweet gesture, gentlemanly. She waited for him to find whatever words he felt he needed to say. A heated minute passed, a second. “I’ve never felt this way about a woman before.”
“Are you trying to say you ... like me?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Like isn’t the right word.” He caught a tendril of her hair between his fingertips and gave it a soft kiss. “I am captivated by you.”
Captivated. That was some word. This gorgeous man was “captivated” by her? What a boost to the ego.
What a terrifying, thrilling, overwhelming prospect.
“Come to my party this weekend.” He tucked the hair behind her ear. “Attend as my personal guest.” He chewed on his lower lip.
“Just to clarify, you want me there not as an employee.” Smelling his scent on the jacket’s collar, she pulled the garment tighter around her nude body.
“I don’t want you to work for me. I want you there with me.”
“Okay. I’ll be there, then.”
“Good.” His eyes glittered as he bent to give her another kiss, this one sweeter, more patient. “Don’t think you can sneak a camera onto my property.”
“Warning heeded.”
“If I have to, I’ll strip-search you.” His lips curled into a devious grin.
“You might anyway, I’m guessing.”
“You’re right.” He kissed her again and didn’t stop until her toes curled and her heart was thumping against her breastbone. Against her mouth, he murmured, “I might.”
8
Mandy had been in some hellholes, but this dump had them beat. The neon sign outside glowed red, LIVE NUDE GIRLS! FANTASY BOOTHS. She would’ve thought there’d be no need for these dens of filth anymore, with so much porn readily available on the Net. Evidently, at least in this neighborhood, Internet porn hadn’t taken such a big bite out of the adult entertainment industry.
Lucky her, because that meant she got to follow her mark into this dump. It was so nasty inside, she realized immediately, that she wished she could’ve worn a full-body condom over her clothes.
She tried to ignore the guy at the counter. His leer was creepy enough to make any girl feel dirty. But, because Clark wasn’t in the main lobby/store area, she had to assume he’d taken residence, with his stripper friend, in one of the private booths.
Which meant she needed to get into the back, hopefully without parting with any of her hard-earned cash. “I’m looking for someone,” she said to the guy at the counter.
The guy took a glance around. “Nobody’s here.”
“Yeah. I can see that. I think he headed into one of the booths.”
The guy shrugged.
Assuming he was paid little more than minimum wage, Mandy shoved her hand into her pocket and withdrew her small wad of cash. “How much?”
“For a booth? Thirty-five for five minutes.”
“That’s insane.”
The guy shrugged. “You want to get back there, you gotta pay. Unless ...” His icky gaze crept up and down her body before pausing at chest level.
Understanding exactly what he was trying to suggest, she slapped the cash onto the counter. “I’ll pay.”
The creep sneered as he handed her a key. “That’s too bad. We could use some fresh ... faces... .”
“Not in this lifetime.” Fisting the key, she waited for him to let her into the narrow back hall. The door slammed behind her. She took a hesitant step forward, grimacing. It was claustrophobic back here. Small and dirty. Lit only by strings of red-colored Christmas light
s stapled to the paneled wall. The hallway ended only about ten feet ahead. A metal door led out to the alley that snaked behind the crumbling building. There were only five doors lining the left wall. None on the right. Each door had a letter spray-painted on it. A through E. Clark and his friend had to be in one of them. Booth B was empty. She was holding the key for that door.
She was here now and had very little time if Clark was as cheap as she was. How would she catch him in the act?
Feeling a little brave, she tried the doors of the other four booths. All locked. She pressed her ear to each door. She heard people, voices, moaning, in only two of them. Booths A and D. Which one was Clark in?
A. Or D. It was a fifty-fifty shot.
Fifty-fifty was better than she’d had so far.
She thought about the stack of overdue bills sitting on her desk, collecting dust.
She thought about Sarah, who’d given her a little nudge this morning about the raise she’d promised ... three months ago.
And she thought about her empty refrigerator. She’d been living on ramen noodles and rice; she’d almost forgotten what real food tasted like.
This was it, the best chance she’d had so far to get her proof, collect the much-needed bonus, and put this case behind her at last. She fished her maxed-out JCPenney credit card out of her wallet, hoping to jimmy the lock, eanie-meanie’d the two doors, picked Booth D, and with her camera ready, she slid the card between the door and the jamb. The door swung open, she rushed in, and without checking to see who was in the booth, snapped a picture and dove back out, racing to her booth and locking herself in.
“What the fuck?!” a man’s angry voice boomed.
There was a sound of slamming doors, pounding feet, angry shouts. Mandy crouched in the darkest corner of the booth, trying not to think about what was probably spattered all over the wall behind her, and flipped the camera to view mode to check the shot.
Oh, yes, it was a money shot. She’d gotten him in flagrante delicto, pounding into some young woman.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t Clark.
“Dammit,” she whispered, listening for signs that the angry subject of her photograph had left. She didn’t hear anything, so she inched open the door and peered out into the hall.
The door to Booth A swung open, and Clark and his friend—looking freshly fucked, her hair askew, her clothes mussed—stepped out. Mandy pulled her door shut as they walked by, then followed them out into the alley. They ducked into a car parked in the alley and sped away.
She stood there, cussing.
Just her luck, it wasn’t just raining; it was pouring. A flash of lightning startled her as she dodged the biggest puddles on her way around the west side of the building, where she’d parked her car. Her gaze locked on her destination, she scurried to her car. Rain dripping from her hair, she unlocked the door and dove into the seat, but just as she pulled the door closed, a fist pounded on her window.
Uh-oh!
She hit the locks.
The fist hit the window again.
Something hard slammed into the side of the door.
She shoved the key into the ignition and jerked it.
“You bitch! You were the one who took the picture!”
Oh, shit!
She shoved the gearshift into drive and hit the gas. Tires screeched on the wet pavement. Two seconds later, the car zoomed forward. She probably hit a new record for acceleration of a 1998 Focus as she careened down the street, took the first corner at an insane speed, and rocketed toward the freeway. She didn’t breathe easier until she was well outside of the city limits.
She’d said it before, but this time she meant it. It was time for a career change.
Her cell phone rang. Hands still a little shaky, she checked the number, then answered.
“I’ve got her!” Sarah yelled into her ear.
“Got who?” Mandy asked as she checked the right lane. Her exit was a mile up ahead. The lane was packed, bumper to bumper. This was going to be fun. She flipped on her turn signal and zoomed past a few cars, looking for a gap.
“Your missing old lady, the one with the clown hair.”
“Ah, that ‘her.’ ”
“Who else would I be talking about?” Sarah asked.
“I don’t know. I’m a little distracted.” Making her third attempt at a lane change, Mandy positioned her car in front of a semi. The gap between the truck and the pickup in front of it was on the small side, but with only a quarter of a mile left before her exit, it was do or die.
“Distracted with what?”
“Hang on.” She set her phone in her lap, wincing as her car drifted into the lane. Her Ford was small. That truck was huge. In an accident, she’d be the clear loser.
Fortunately for her, there was no accident. The truck driver, anticipating her move, slowed down slightly. But he wasn’t happy to have done that. The semi’s headlights flashed in her rearview mirror. Huffing a sigh of relief, she gave the truck driver an I’m-sorry wave over her shoulder as she maneuvered into the exit lane to her right.
She scooped up her phone and tucked it between her shoulder and ear. “I’m back. Are you still there?”
“Yes. Anyway, where are you?”
“Why?”
“Because Ruby Belton’s plane leaves in two hours. I figure she’s probably already at the airport.”
“Plane?”
“Yeah. She’s headed to Vegas. And she’s not alone. She bought two-round trip seats. First class.”
“Cool. I’m only fifteen minutes away from the airport.” Currently on the freeway service drive, Mandy changed lanes, preparing to get back on the highway. “What airline is she flying?”
“US Airways.”
“Got it. Thanks!”
Fifteen minutes later, she was pulling into the short-term parking lot. After squeezing her car into the only parking spot she could find, she jog-walked the mile-long trek to the terminal. She made a beeline for the line at the US Airways check-in counter, her eyes skimming the travelers, looking for her target.
Too young, too young, family with kids, male, male, male, another woman who was too young. Where was Grandma Belton?
The door behind her swished open, and out of reflex, she stole a glance over her shoulder.
Yes! Ruby Belton. And who was that? Her companion was, maybe, in his early forties. Many, many, many years younger than her. And he wasn’t hard on the eyes either.
Grandma Belton gave his ass a pat.
You little cougar!
Mandy met them at the end of the check-in line. “Excuse me, Mrs. Ruby Belton?”
“Excuse you.” Ruby Belton gave her a squinty stare. “Do I know you?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then how do you know my name?” Ruby turned to her companion, thumbing over her shoulder. “This lady knows my name.”
“I see that,” he said, giving Mandy a what’s-up look.
“Her family hired me,” Mandy explained.
“Oh, hell!” Ruby shouted. “They just can’t leave me alone. I’m not going back there.” She wagged an arthritic finger at Mandy. “You can’t make me.”
Mandy lifted her hands in the universal sign of surrender. “I’m not trying to make you do anything. They just hired me to find you.”
“Good.” Ruby tried to push Mandy aside. She couldn’t. At five feet nothing, she couldn’t weigh more than eighty pounds. Mandy figured she had to outweigh her by at least forty pounds. “You found me. Now, get outta my way. Me and Bob have a plane to catch.”
“Yes, I won’t make you late for your flight.” Mandy pulled out her phone and handed it to Ruby. “As soon as you call your daughter and let her know you’re safe, I’ll leave.”
Ruby’s lips thinned. Considering her lips weren’t more than pink slashes, that was saying something. “I don’t want to. She’ll try to stop me.”
“Babe,” Bob said, taking the phone from Mandy. “I think it’s a good idea. If you don’t call h
er, she may try to report you as kidnapped. I don’t want to spend my honeymoon in jail. She’s going to know where to find us.”
Honeymoon? These two were married? This was going to be interesting.
Ruby’s sigh was highly exaggerated. “I see your point.” She accepted the phone from Bob, poked the number pad with an index finger, waited a few seconds, barked, “I’m fine, now leave me the hell alone,” and cut off the call. She shoved the phone back at Mandy. “There. I made the call. Now let me go.”
Swallowing back a chuckle, Mandy stepped aside. “Have a wonderful honeymoon.”
Ruby’s smile was 100 percent naughty. “You know I will.” She gave Bob’s ass another crack, then hurried to catch up with the end of the line. Bob followed, dragging three suitcases behind him.
That was the end of that.
Feeling some sense of accomplishment, Mandy headed outside, into yet another downpour. She was soaked to the skin by the time she reached her car. Her hair was wet. Her clothes were saturated, glued to her skin. By some miracle, however, her cell phone, which had been in her jeans pocket, wasn’t ruined. It rang shortly after she’d flung her soggy self into the driver’s seat. Blinking at the rain droplets dribbling off her eyelashes, she answered the call.
“Hey!”
“Did you get the old lady?” Sarah asked.
“I did. Get this—she’s going on her honeymoon.”
“Go, Grandma!”
“There’s more.”
“What?”
“Grandma’s new husband is probably at least forty years younger than her. And he wasn’t hard on the eyes at all. In fact, he was a pretty decent-looking man.”
“Why would a guy like that marry an old woman, you think?”
“I would’ve guessed her money, but after seeing them together, I think he married her for the sex. I think Grandma Belton’s into some kink.”
“That’s wrong, on so many levels.”
Starting her car, Mandy wedged the phone between her shoulder and ear. One of these days, she was going to have to get around to replacing the Bluetooth headset she’d killed. “Hey, who are you to judge, Mistress Sarah?”
“Touché.”
Mandy navigated the car out of the parking spot. “So, did you call me just to ask me about Grandma Belton, or did you need to talk to me about something else?”
