by Radclyffe
“You’re going to be fun,” Talia murmured, sending a Trojan horse she doubted would get past Sloan’s firewalls. But even experts made mistakes sometimes, and she had no doubt she would eventually find this woman’s weakness.
Being able to envision Sloan’s face while battling her mind, on a field where few could compete with her as an equal, excited her. She was looking forward to meeting her in person. Bedding her, knowing that Sloan was unaware of her identity, would make the climax all the sweeter. Talia let her fingers drift over her nipples. They were hard and tingling beneath her sheer blouse. The wine warming her depths, the arousal that always accompanied a hunt, and the persistent image of her quarry made her want sex. The brief caress had created an answering echo between her legs, and she was aware of her clitoris throbbing. No one had captured her attention, mind and body, so completely in a very long time.
Finishing her wine, she called up another program and continued with her campaign to best JT Sloan. As she watched the screen, she reached for the phone beside her and punched in a number from memory.
A woman answered, her voice eager, as if she had been waiting for Talia’s call despite the late hour. “Yes?”
“Hello,” Talia said throatily. “I have been thinking of you.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“Good.” Talia disconnected.
As she refilled her wine, she wasn’t thinking of the woman whose mouth would soon bring her to climax. She was envisioning a far more challenging and intriguing seduction.
Chapter Fifteen
“This place,” Irina said as Mitch guided her toward the entrance of the Troc. “It is like Ziggie’s?”
“Not really.” Mitch grabbed the door and held it open. “No dancers here. Different kind of performers.”
Irina hesitated for a second, giving him an odd look. At first glance, the place did look like Ziggie’s. A large, dark, rectangular room that smelled faintly of old whiskey and spent desire. But the Troc wasn’t a strip club, and although customers might be getting it on in the shadows, sex wasn’t the main course. Entertainment was the chief offering, and at the moment, the Front Street Kings were on the stage.
“Mitch!” Jasmine glided out of the gloom like an exotic bird. Her coppery lamé dress was formfitting and cut low, accentuating the slender length of her elegant neck and a tease of cleavage. Her lustrous, artfully tangled blond tresses danced over milky shoulders. Taller than Mitch, she moved with a sinuous sensuality more innate than impersonated, wholly female. She draped her arms around Mitch’s neck and kissed him on the mouth. “I’ve missed you.”
Even prepared for Jasmine’s entrance, Mitch was caught off guard, especially when Jasmine stroked her tongue ever so lightly along the edge of his lip and snugged her pelvis into his. He clasped her waist automatically and pressed a little closer, and she responded with an audible purr. As if to remind him where he belonged, Irina gripped the back of his neck. Her possessive gesture was so much like something Sandy would do he experienced a few seconds of dizzying disorientation.
Jasmine finally took pity on him and eased away, trailing her fingers over his chest before turning to take in Irina. “And who do we have here?”
“Jasmine, this is Irina.” Mitch slid his arm around Irina’s waist and tugged her against his side. “Jasmine is a friend of mine, Irina.”
“I see that,” Irina said, appraising Jasmine coolly. “You dance?”
“I sing,” Jasmine replied, her throaty voice carrying an edge.
“You like to play with boys like Mitch?”
Jasmine threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, I do. But I can see he’s going to be busy with you.”
Irina undulated against Mitch’s body and ran her hand slowly over his chest and down his stomach, then brushed her fingers along the swelling adjacent to his fly. “Yes. He is.”
Mitch caught the sparkle in Jasmine’s eyes and knew she was having fun jousting with Irina, but he didn’t need the two of them using his body as their combat zone. Jasmine was his friend, as well as his backup, and even though she was gorgeous and sexy and an outrageous tease, he’d never been attracted to her. His absence of desire had nothing to do with the fact that all that blinding sensuality was equal parts Jasmine and Jason McBride. Mitch just didn’t sexualize his friends. Irina, though, was different. She wasn’t his friend, and she wasn’t just teasing. Her hand was still on his cock, and he didn’t need a hard-on distracting him tonight.
“Let’s get a table, baby.” He shifted away from the questing fingers.
Jasmine smiled briefly at Irina and stroked Mitch’s cheek. “And I’ve got to get ready for my show. See you later?”
“Sure,” Mitch said and led Irina to a table as Jasmine disappeared. “Want a beer or something?”
“Vodka.” Irina smiled. “It is the best liquor.”
“Ice?”
“Yes.”
He leaned down and kissed her. “I’ll be right back.”
At the bar, he gave his order and turned toward the stage to watch Phil and his other buddies perform. They were great. In between numbers, they changed clothes, effortlessly appearing first as hard rockers, then country-western stars, then suave crooners. They were handsome and rugged and sexy.
When an arm snaked around his waist, he expected Irina, but it was Jasmine. “Ooh,” she crooned, “hello again.” She flicked a perfect nail over the fold of his fly. “Nice.”
“Are you trying to get my balls busted?” Mitch asked loud enough for anyone watching them to hear.
“Would I do that, lover?” Jasmine leaned closer, traced the edge of his ear with the tip of her tongue, and lowered her voice. “Everything okay?”
“Irina thinks she might have been followed today.”
Jasmine swayed against him to the beat pulsing from the speakers. An observer would conclude she was into some serious cock-teasing. “Frye know?”
“Not yet.”
“Are you still up for Ziggie’s?”
“Got to. Irina left a message we need to follow up on.”
“Don’t disappear until after my number. I want to stick close.” She kissed his cheek. “And try to keep your dick in your pants.”
“Right.” Mitch grabbed the drinks and returned to Irina. As she sipped the vodka, he asked, “How do you like the guys?”
“I know them from Ziggie’s. Nice boys, and they are good, what they do.”
“Yeah.”
“Jasmine.” Irina’s lips pursed. “She is very beautiful.”
“Like I said, she’s—”
“I’m your girlfriend, no?”
“Yes.”
“So I let her know you are not hers to touch.” Irina shrugged. “No woman would let another one kiss her man like that.”
Mitch didn’t want Irina to suspect that Jasmine was working with him, so he played along. “I think she got the message.”
Irina slowly stroked the inside of Mitch’s thigh. The back of her hand rubbed over his cock. “Good.”
*
“Hey, Mitch, my man!” Phil said exuberantly, crossing to the table and clapping Mitch on the back. He caught Irina’s hand and lifted it to his lips, bowing slightly as he kissed the back of her fingers. “And hello, beautiful lady. I’m Phil.”
“Hello, Phil,” Irina said, drawing out his name as if it were a delicacy.
Phil raised his eyes, his mouth still hovering over her hand. Something glinted in their dark depths and his mouth quirked into a suggestive smile. “You’re far too fine to waste yourself on Mitch here.”
Irina laughed.
“Hey, that’s my date you’re drooling over,” Mitch complained good-naturedly. He kicked out the chair next to him. “Park it.”
“I didn’t get your name,” Phil said as he straightened, his gaze still on Irina.
She looked him over, taking her time. “Irina.”
Mitch could almost see Phil’s chest puffing up under the scrutiny. Jesus, he looked like he
wanted to take a bite out of her. Phil flirted with every woman, even Michael, but Mitch had never seen him look at a woman quite so intently before. Irina didn’t seem to mind. Mitch supposed he should act jealous, like Irina had acted with Jasmine. But Phil knew he had another girlfriend. Plus he and Irina weren’t a serious couple. They were just supposed to be dating. He cleared his throat. “Want a beer, Phil?”
“Yeah,” Phil said, only taking his eyes off Irina’s face long enough to stare at the breasts molded by her tight red top. “That’d be great. Thanks.”
By the time Mitch got back from his second drink run, the other Kings had arrived and were clustered around Irina at the table. She seemed to be enjoying the attention. He shuffled bottles around the table and reclaimed his seat. Jasmine was onstage, partway through her first number. Unlike many female impersonators, she didn’t lip-synch when performing. Her voice was sultry and rich, and as naturally feminine as the rest of her. Most of the men in the audience were riveted by her, their collective lust palpable. Mitch wondered how they dealt with the knowledge that this beautiful woman was also a man, but maybe that was part of the attraction.
Irina leaned close. “She is good.”
“Yeah,” Mitch agreed.
“She is not your girlfriend?”
“No way.” Laughing a little, Mitch kissed her neck. “You are, remember?”
“Hey, Mitch,” Ken called. “Give the rest of us a break, huh? We’re all out here in the cold.”
“We’re going to Ziggie’s later,” Phil said to Irina. “The night would be perfect if you would come with us.”
Irina smiled lazily at him while rubbing slow circles on Mitch’s stomach. “Mitch and I have plans for later.” At Phil’s crestfallen expression, she laughed softly. “But maybe for a little while. If Mitch wants.”
Phil cut his eyes to Mitch. “What do you say, buddy?”
What Mitch wanted to say was that Phil needed to get stuck on some other woman, because Irina was off-limits, for real. He didn’t want to see Phil get hurt. But he had a part to play, that of a good-time guy who didn’t mind sharing the wealth with his friends. Plus, he and Irina were headed to Ziggie’s, and going with the Kings just helped his cover. “Sure.”
“Good,” Irina said, standing. “I am going to freshen up. I will be back in a minute, Mitch.”
As soon as she was out of earshot Phil pulled his chair close to Mitch. “So just how serious are you about her?”
“What do you think?” Mitch said, trying to work out an answer.
“I think you’ve already got a hot girlfriend who’s going to fry your ass if she finds out you’re fooling around.” Phil grinned, although his eyes were unsmiling. “So I think you should let me take care of this one.”
“I told you, I’m not married.” Mitch took another sip of his first beer. “And the thing with Irina is intense, you know? For right now.”
Phil regarded him fixedly for a few seconds, then nodded. “Okay. If things change, let me know.”
By the time Irina returned, Jasmine was on her last number. The Kings regaled Irina with stories of shows they had done, flirting and posturing for her. She was a natural-born actress, indulging them with smiles and laughter and carrying on as if she and Mitch were really on a date and this was just a fun night out.
A short while later, Jasmine joined them, having changed into a clingy sweater, tight black slacks, and heels. She settled into Phil’s lap, crossing her legs and demanding breathily, “So where’s the party?”
“We are all going to Ziggie’s.” Irina’s fingers were curled around Mitch’s thigh, but her eyes were on Phil. “Yes?”
“Yes,” all of the Kings, including Mitch, responded enthusiastically.
Jasmine raised a sculpted brow at Mitch. “Oh, goodie.”
*
Mitch checked the road in his rearview mirror as he headed up Broad Street toward Ziggie’s. Irina hugged him tightly from behind, warming herself against his back, but he was still glad he’d stopped earlier to get her a hip-length leather coat. He could see his breath in the dark night air. Jasmine was with Phil and the guys in a car a few blocks ahead. If the lieutenant was behind him, he couldn’t see her.
After he pulled into the mouth of the alley and cut his engine, he pulled off his helmet and swiveled on the seat to face Irina. “If anyone in there wants you to leave with them, try to put them off. If that doesn’t work, say you’re not going anywhere without me. Say you’re scared because of what happened at the house. Tell them I took care of you, protected you. You feel safe with me along.”
“These men. They are much stronger than you,” Irina said, her hands now resting lightly on the outside of his hips. “You cannot fight them if they force me to go with them.”
Mitch shook his head. “I’m not letting them take you. Don’t worry about that.”
“You could let me go. You could say you couldn’t stop them.”
“They’re not going to let you find your sister,” Mitch said. He believed that to be true, but it didn’t make him feel any better about preying on her fears. Manipulating her. “We can help you find her. But you have to help us.”
She didn’t say anything for a long moment, her eyes probing into his. “They will not be so easy to convince as your friends that we are together.”
“Whatever it takes.”
Irina reached between his legs and squeezed his cock, pressing it into the apex of his thighs. “And if they want proof?”
Mitch laughed hoarsely. “Like what? Unlike flesh-and-blood cocks, mine doesn’t shoot—so what exactly would they see?”
“You would fuck me if they say?”
“Jesus.” Mitch slid his fingers between his cock and Irina’s hand, and clasped her fingers gently. “I’m not going to let them force me to treat you like that. I’ll convince them some other way. Don’t worry.”
“I am not the one to worry.” Irina stroked his face. “It is you they will hurt.”
*
“What the hell were you doing out there, spawning?” Jasmine hissed when Mitch slid into the booth with her and the Kings. An assortment of beers and a vodka on ice sat in the middle of the table already. “Where’s Irina?”
“She went to talk to the bartender.”
“And you let her? What if she slips out the back?”
“She won’t.” At Jasmine’s frown, Mitch said impatiently, “I can see her from here. Besides, if she wanted to ditch me she could have done it anytime today.” He lowered his voice. “What about the backup?”
“I called Frye from my dressing room at the club. They should’ve picked you up on your way here.”
“Okay.” Mitch felt a little steadier knowing that the lieutenant and Watts were outside. Working undercover was lonely and scary, even though it was a rush, too. He glanced past Jasmine and saw Phil craning his neck, watching Irina. He hoped Phil believed him that Irina and he were an item, and that he would keep his word to stay away from her. He especially hoped he was becoming more adept at lying. Sandy always said he sucked at it.
“Uh-oh,” Jasmine whispered. “She’s heading toward the back.”
Mitch pushed out of the booth. “There’s a rear door. If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, check the alley for my bike. If it’s still there but we’re not, it will probably mean we had to go somewhere to keep our cover. Hopefully the lieutenant will pick us up.”
“Just don’t let them take Irina.”
“I’m not planning on it.” Mitch hurried after Irina, knowing events didn’t always turn out as planned.
*
“Hey! What’s going on?” Mitch demanded when he discovered Irina with her back against the wall, pinned by a hulking guy with fair hair cut so close to his head he appeared at first glance to be bald. His arm muscles bunched beneath a tight white T-shirt, and his tree trunk–sized thighs bracketed Irina’s lower body. He turned his head and gave Mitch a flat, cold stare.
Acting on instinct, heart thumping in h
is chest, Mitch ignored the guy and caressed Irina’s shoulder. “You okay, baby?”
“Who is this?” the man growled in accented English.
“I am with him,” Irina said, a note of defiance in her voice.
The Russian looked Mitch up and down and made a dismissive sound. “You need a man? I can take care of that.”
Irina sneered. “Like Yuri did?”
She pushed against her captor’s chest, and he moved back as if surprised. She had just enough room to slither out from beneath his arm. Mitch immediately pulled her close and angled his body so he was standing between her and the man he presumed was one of the Russian enforcers.
“Yuri did nothing to protect us when the police came,” Irina spat. “Mitch helped me get away. All the others at the house…” She made an angry gesture. “Gone.”
“You come with me,” the Russian said, grabbing her arm.
“Back off,” Mitch warned, hoping he’d be able to get off at least one punch before the guy planted one of his huge fists in his face.
“She comes with me,” the Russian said.
Mitch shook his head. “No way.”
Just when he was sure the guy was going to swing, Jasmine appeared out of nowhere. “There you are!” she exclaimed, rushing up. “We’re ready for the next stop.” She looped her arm through Irina’s, dragging her a few feet down the hall. “I just love club hopping.” Over her shoulder she called to Mitch, “Are you coming or are you going to let the other boys have all the fun?”
The Russian’s eyes flamed. “You are making a mistake, Irina.”
She slowed until Mitch reached her side, then said, “Tell Olik if he wants me, he has to come himself. Not send his lapdog.”
When the Russian’s face suffused with fury, Mitch hurried both Irina and Jasmine back into the main part of the bar.
“Jealous boyfriend?” Jasmine said archly.
Irina gave her a feral smile. “I would not let him fuck my shoe.”
