Sweet Vengeance: Ladies (Iron Orchids Book 14)

by Danielle Norman

  Bo raised one eyebrow and something in that gesture only made Sunday laugh harder.

  "Tell me, or I'll tickle you," Bo said as he stepped out of his pants

  "It's just that, I remembered something."

  "A good something, I hope."

  Sunday nodded. "I was thinking of this game, where you have to describe something with out using whole sentences or the word."

  Bo pinched his lips. "And you thought of that now?"

  Sunday nodded. "I had to describe precum."

  "What kind of game was this?"

  "A drinking one." Sunday's one word answer was all that was needed. "I called it frothy helmet." Sunday busted out laughing.

  "Sounds like a sports bar," Bo stated.

  "Or something infected."

  "You really are adorable. Here we are, all hot and sexy and you are thinking of crazy as fuck shit. What am I going to do with you?"

  "Ummm . . ." Sunday bit her lower lip. "Make out with me?"

  "I'm going to do more than that." Bo crooked a finger and signaled Sunday closer.

  She scooted forward and then, wrapping her fingers around his thick shaft, lowered her head to take him in her mouth. As she swirled her tongue around the tip and then flicked the underside, he moaned and caressed the back of her head. She took him in deeper, losing herself in the taste and feel and scent of him filling her mouth as she slid up and down, his cock jerking in between her lips. His fingers gently but firmly held her head, but he let her control the pace and depth. She continued to work him over, sucking on the tip as he grew larger and harder.

  With a long, deep moan, he pulled back. He hooked his finger under her chin and tipped her head to look up at him, staring down into her eyes. So much adoration filled his gaze, that her heart ached for him to be closer, to be inside her.

  His hand slid between her thighs as he crawled over her, leaning her back. His fingers went right to her little bud and moved in deft, tight circles. She locked her gaze on his eyes, unable to look away, as he continued to rub her as if he knew her body, knew everything that she wanted and needed. He pressed harder, and she sucked in a breath, her heart beating faster. Her body tensed. He moved faster, harder, until her head lulled back with a begging moan. Finally, she was over the edge. Her body writhed under him as pleasure consumed her, bringing her under again and again as he continued to see her through until the very end.

  His lips met hers, and he kissed her hard as he shifted between her legs. The head of his cock pressed against her, and she tilted her hips as he slid inside, filling her. She let out a long breath as he pushed into her in short strokes, deeper each time, until he was all the way in. Then he grabbed her hips and began to thrust. He fucked her, deep and hard, and she let herself go into the moment, reveling in the feel of him as he pounded harder and faster.

  Her thoughts blurred together until the world was just the two of them caught in the moment of lust and need and maybe something more.

  He leaned forward, his body over hers, his hands on either side of her, and his face tucked into the crook of her neck as he swelled and pulsed deep inside her.

  For a long moment, he laid on top of her, breathing hard. She gently ran her nails down his back until he gave a delighted shudder.

  He lifted his head and, smiling, brushed back a few strands of hair from her face.

  "That was incredible," he said in a low voice. "You're amazing."

  "And you," she said before pressing her lips to his.

  "I'll get us something to clean up with," he said as he slid from her and sauntered toward the bathroom without any modesty.

  Sunday watched him, taking in his gorgeous physique until he stepped into the bathroom, out of sight. A moment later, he returned, carrying a small hand towel.

  He carefully helped her clean up and then lifted her to pull the covers free. Mindful of her injured foot, he eased her back into bed and then came around and crawled under the covers with her. She wiggled next to him, her back to his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her and kissed the back of her head. With a smile, she nuzzled her face against his arm.

  They slept cuddled together. As much as Sunday wished they could spend the rest of the week lounging around, enjoying the islands and each other, she knew that in the morning, she had to figure out what to do about Kai Camden.

  Sunday

  On the flight back to Florida, Sunday tried to rest. In the seat next to her, Bo prodded at his tablet, but every time Sunday stole a glance, he wasn't doing anything but mindlessly scrolling up and down.

  "You okay?" she asked.

  He nodded, but he didn't seem to mean it.

  She nestled against his shoulder and tipped her head back to look at him. "We're going to figure this out. I promise."

  With a sigh, he closed the cover on his tablet and tucked it next to his leg. He reached for her hand, entwining his fingers with hers.

  "I know we will," he said. "I have faith in you. In us." He squeezed her hand. "I'm just worried, that's all."

  "Perhaps you just need help relaxing," she said with a giggle. "I can probably help with that, too. Exclusive service--VIP only."

  "Mm," he said, a mischievous grin sliding into place. "Is there a perks package?"

  "Oh, there's a package, all right," she said, discreetly running her free hand up and down the front of his thigh. "A nice, thick, wonderful . . ."

  He laughed, tipping his head back against the seat. "I would definitely be interested in more of your relaxation services." He glanced at her, sidelong. "How's the foot?"

  "Better. I just need another few nights in your bed." She grinned. "Doctor's orders."

  "Well, we must do what the doctor says, right?"

  "Mm-hmm," she said, closing her eyes.

  Too soon, they had landed and collected their bags. Sunday wheeled her luggage toward the guest pickup outside, Bo following a few feet behind. Part of her wanted to linger, spend a few more minutes in his presence, but she couldn't get too caught up in her feelings. She still needed to figure out what to do about Kai.

  Outside, the air draped over her, warm and humid. She came to a stop at the curb. Down the road, a black limo approached.

  She turned to Bo. "Looks like your ride is here."

  He nodded, and then glanced around. "Do you need a ride?"

  "The girls are coming to pick me up," she said.

  She started to step away, but Bo closed the distance between them and touched her arm.

  "Tomorrow night," he said, expression lightening. "I would like to take you on a date. Five-star restaurant, best wine on the menu, the works."

  She blinked at him, processing his words.

  His expression fell. "You're . . . you aren't interested, I guess?"

  "Oh! Me?" She grinned, but her heart skipped a few beats. She had kind of assumed that what happened in the Caymans would stay there, and she didn't want to admit how glad she was that she'd been wrong. "That sounds lovely. Thank you."

  "See you at seven tomorrow night, then." He smiled and bent to kiss the top of her head as his limo pulled in. With a cheeky grin, he turned and sauntered away. The driver stepped out to help him with his luggage.

  "Hey, Sunday!" Melanie called.

  Sunday turned to find a white van parked a few spaces down and Melanie's head hanging out the passenger window.

  Melanie waved and gestured her over. Sunday grabbed the handle of her luggage and hurried over to the van as the back door popped open and Olivia hopped out.

  "How was the trip?" she asked as she tipped the seat forward so Sunday could stash her bags.

  "Sun and surf," Sunday replied with an eye roll. "How's it going with you guys?"

  From the driver’s seat, Adeline whistled. "You returned just in time."

  Olivia pushed the seat back and settled into it, closing the door behind her.

  "How so?" Sunday asked as Adeline navigated through the airport traffic.

  "Well, first off, we got a hold of a phone
recording of Kai," Olivia said. She held out her phone, motioned for silence, and then pressed play.

  Kai's voice came through. "Honey, don't worry. It's going to go fine. Once I get the money from my wife, everything will be taken care of."

  "Okay, thank you, Mr. Camden," a woman said between sobs. "I will see you next week."

  Olivia clicked off the recording. "The woman he's speaking with is Analeigh Howard. No information on her yet, but we're looking. Also, does the name Justin Camfield ring any bells?"

  "Wait," Sunday practically shouted. "Is that the former deputy, that Justin Camfield?"

  "Yep," Adeline confirmed. "The one and only who was part of the sex ring operation and kidnapped Bridget. We can link him to Kai and know that they had met on at least three different occasions."

  "Dirty asshole," Sunday hissed.

  "Another man on Kai's list is, David Cross, and he was recently arrested on suspicions of involvement in a sex ring operation. He's being held without bail."

  Sunday drummed her fingers on her thigh. "Bo and I tracked Kai to a club called Sabers, which is definitely some kind of sex club." She extended her injured leg a little. "I got this as a participation trophy while I was there." With a sigh, she leaned back in her seat. "So, now what?"

  "What? What? You aren't going to leave it there, how the fuck did you hurt your leg and where was Bo? Why wasn't he there as back-up?" Adeline was on a tirade.

  God, Sunday loved her and this was just one of the many reasons. Adeline was always ready to stand up for her friends but it was more than that. Like the subtlety, not that Sunday couldn't take care of herself but that she was obviously outnumbered and it was only a lack of back-up that caused her injury.

  "Hello? I'm waiting." Adeline snapped her fingers.

  "Well, I ran into a mouth-breathing-concrete-wall." Sunday recapped her story. When she was done and Adeline appeased, everything seemed to settle. "Okay, now can we continue. What next?"

  "We meet with David Cross," Adeline said.

  Sunday nodded. "Great, let's do that first thing in the morning."

  "No," Adeline said as she merged onto the highway. "We're going now, and since you know what's going on with Kai, we think you should go in and talk with David instead of us. Barrett had you added as his assistant on file."

  "I look like shit."

  "So does he," Olivia said as a way to soothe her. It didn't work.

  Sunday

  Sunday looked over to the solid wall of thick glass, it was divided into individual windows with a metal dish as the only opening between his side and where the jailor stood.

  "Hello, I'm Sunday Prescott, I'm the assistant for the attorney of David Cross, date of birth, twelve/five/seventy. He requested a meeting."

  "I'll need to see your ID please," the jailor asked. Sunday dropped it into a metal dish for him to examine it before sending it back. “Go to the next room, I'll buzz you in."

  Sunday headed over to another solid steel door, a glass narrow viewing strip, that the security guard had on his side and the other side used to check for riots, active shooters, and whether or not the coast was clear before opening the door.

  The guard nodded, the door buzzed, and then Sunday was allowed to enter a giant, solid concrete room, a long steel table fastened to the concrete floor. Steel benches also fastened to the floor. Metal dividers every two feet or so, partitioning off small cubicles for the inmate to meet with their guest.

  "Pull out all forms, writing utensils, glasses, anything that you might need and lay it on the table," a security guard ordered. "Then set your briefcase on the floor and do not get back into your case until after the inmate has returned to lockup, is that understood?"

  "Yes." Sunday did as requested and set everything out. The guard leaned over and checked what she had laid out, shook the papers, and made a point of clearly stating, you have two black ink PaperMate pens, please put one pen back in your bag."

  Once Sunday had everything in order to the guard's approval, another door opened and Mr. Cross was escorted out, his hands were shackled, this gave him a little more give than normal handcuffs.

  David Cross, who Sunday recognized from the pictures Olivia had shown her on the way over, sat behind a table, hands in his lap, probably in a vague attempt to hide the cuffs. He started as his gaze swept over her, but despite the scowl set on his face, he couldn't seem to make eye contact.

  "You're my legal counsel?" he asked, looking where she sat. "They sent you?"

  Sunday shook her head. She slammed her palms on the tabletop, rattling sounds filling the room, and leaned forward. She couldn't get into his face, he was under high security and not allowed out of shackles even for attorney visits. Not to mention, Barrett wasn't stupid, he didn't want Sunday alone with him, so he'd set up for a protected visit.

  "Look, let's cut to the chase," she said in a firm, even voice. "I'm working on a case, and you have just become part of it. I know you are in with Kai Camden, and I want you to tell us everything you know because in all honesty I think he is the big fish. Let's be honest, the State Attorney always wants the big fish. In return, I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you get a fair sentence."

  He glanced up at her and then leaned back in his chair with a scoff. "I already can get the best legal defense money can buy, but I know the courts are going to chew me up and spit me out. If I'm taken out of solitary the inmates are going to kill me. There are three types of people that don't come out of here alive, snitches, cops, and those that hurt children. You think any of them are going to believe me if I tell them that I didn't have sex with those girls?"

  "But you helped others get their claws in them, didn't you?" Sunday asked.

  "What can you offer me?"

  Sunday found herself smirking. She might not have a bank account balance with as many zeros as his, but she still was better connected where it mattered.

  "I can talk to the prosecutor,” Sunday said. "Work with my resources in the FBI. I have ways. But if you don't tell me what you know--and I mean everything, down to what style of socks they wear--then I'm going to make sure you are let loose into the jail. I think you've cost enough of our tax dollars. Got it?"

  He looked at her, there was an emptiness to him, "Who are you?"

  "That isn't really your concern," Sunday said. "Tell me what you know about Kai Camden."

  David shook his head. "I don't know names. They designed the operation that way on purpose."

  Sunday cocked her head. "Elaborate."

  Silence seemed to settle around them as David weighed his options. Sunday smoldered as she stared at him, and she wondered if he decided not to snitch how sturdy was that glass, because she was likely to launch over the table and smack him.

  Finally, he sighed and leaned back a little, keeping his hands under the table. "I never slept with the girls. If you ask me, it's revolting."

  "It is, you already stated that, go on." Sunday gestured for him to keep spilling. "Then why were you involved?"

  He let out a breath that was a part horrified laugh. "Money, of course. Why else? Do you know how much these men will spend on a night--an hour--with these girls?" He chewed over his next words and then added, "And they are girls. That's how they like them. Young, pure--"

  "All right," Sunday snapped, holding up her hand. "What's your role in all this?"

  "Talent scout," he said. "I talk up the girls, get them excited for their new careers. A little money and alcohol gets the ball rolling, but mostly it's in the approach. Once the trap is sprung, there's no backing out."

  Sunday kind of wanted to hit him, but that would violate some stupid laws. "So, tell us about your customers."

  "I can't," he said with an easy shrug. "Everyone is known by a number. We never exchange names, and we don't handle any transactions face to face. Anonymity is half the selling point. The other half is--"

  "I got it," Sunday said, making a disgusted face. "So, you're telling us that you don't know the names of anyone inv
olved, which means you can't turn anyone over, which basically makes you useless to us."

  "I can tell you there's a popular club in the Caymans," he said.

  Sunday rolled her eyes. "That's a few days too late. How did you get wrapped up in this anyway?"

  David heaved a sigh and rolled his head back before looking her in the face. "My half brother."

  Sunday lifted an eyebrow.

  "Justin was a deputy here and owned an escort service in Miami under my name, he wound up bringing me on to chat up girls. I didn't realize what was happening, exactly, at first. I thought maybe they were shooting porn or something, didn't really give it a lot of thought. The money helped," he said. "Eventually, I figured out he was pimping the girls."

  "And you didn't leave," Sunday said with a biting tone.

  He shrugged. "As I said, the money helped. Anyway, I was only in on his little business venture about eighteen months, but then he got busted for something earlier this year. The whole operation fell apart."

  "But you couldn't let all those connections go to waste, could you?" Sunday said. "By the way, he was busted for kidnapping a fellow deputy, a fucking friend of mine." Sunday seethed.

  "This business, it's all about connections. You understand that, don't you? You're in with the FBI." He settled back in his chair with a wicked grin. "Well, I had a talent, and mine was knowing how to talk to women."

  "Girls," Sunday said. "You convinced girls to trust you and then you sell them into a sex ring they can't escape. You're trash, you know that?"

  He started to reply, but Sunday straightened and folded her arms over her chest. "So, you just picked up in your brother's stead? Are you the new owner?"

  David laughed, shaking his head. "My brother was an amateur. His business model was weak, boring. At this new company, they believe in customer service."

  Sunday narrowed her eyes at him. "What does that mean?"

  His face lit up, and he wiggled forward in his seat to lean over the table. His voice lowered. "Everyone's got a preference, right? Let's be honest, here. If you're paying thousands of dollars for a fuck, do you really just want whatever happens to be in stock, or would you like a handpicked selection? Hair color, body type, complexion, even demeanor. They get to know what their customers really want, and then I'm hired to pick up from a designated place, educated, and then deliver. It's simple, but oh-so-effective."