Sex, Lies & Lace (Sex and Lies Book 4)

by Kris Calvert

  I looked to Win, my face flushed with a slight case of panic, but after a deep breath, I relaxed into King’s electronic fingers dancing across my breasts as I tuned back into the men.

  “I’ll have what she’s having,” Win said with a smile, as he reached for my hand again, giving it a tight squeeze. I knew he didn’t want me to speak Russian, and dammit, neither did I, but I couldn’t help myself. I was having trouble helping myself at all at the moment.

  “Honey?” Win looked honestly concerned.

  “I’m good,” I sighed. “I just…” I paused as a strong vibration wracked my body. “I just love you sooooo….” The pulses beat on my lady parts like a tom-tom and I gripped Win’s hand and closed my eyes giving into the pleasure. “Sooooo much. Oh God, I love you.”

  As the vibration ended, I opened my eyes and stared into a flushed and excited Win Holloway.

  “Holy shit.” He could barely form the words and I watched him swallow hard before parting his lips with his tongue only once before letting out a sigh. “I love you too, Reagan.”

  When he said my name, I snapped back into reality. Win wasn’t supposed to use my real name and I panicked, looking around the room as if we’d been caught. No one was the wiser—no one except me—and Win Holloway.

  I bit my lip and pulled it together, saying to Win exactly what I texted to King. “I need a moment.”

  The bottle of vodka and a pitcher of water arrived at the table and as Win poured the water and sat it in front of me, I poured my own glass of vodka, quickly taking a gulp. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I poured another glass and tilted my head toward the table to the left and looked to our waitress who was still standing by waiting to take our order. “May I borrow your pen?”

  “Yes.”

  She handed me the ballpoint and I looked back to her. “Can you give us just a few minutes? I’m not quite sure what I want to order.”

  With a nod she was gone. Sliding the white paper cocktail napkin from under my glass of vodka, I began to write as I spoke. “Honey, meeting you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” I said as I wrote on the napkin: 4 packing 9 o’clock and slid it across the table. “What would I ever do without you?”

  I listened again to the men as Win picked up my hand from the table and gave it a long kiss, paying special attention to each knuckle. Between his soft touch and the electronic pulses from King, I was in sensory overload. Still I concentrated and listened to their conversation.

  There was to be a meeting. A factory in Ussuriysk—the same name Win had given me. There was a shipment going out and Rodya was in charge. It would be done—all of it done—all done in two days’ time. Then the world would know the unmatchable power of Russia.

  And then he said it. A name I knew—BioGen. The man with the gun in his lap followed up naming the drug company Tina Joseph had worked for with another name: SciTech.

  I looked to Win and blinked hard. “Honey, can we get the check? I’m not feeling too well.”

  Win nodded. “Sure. Of course.”

  Waving down the waitress, Win tossed a fifty-dollar bill on the table, wanting to get us out of the restaurant before we seemed suspicious. I’d already caused too much of a ruckus with my near spontaneous orgasm.

  Taking me by the hand, we walked out the front door and Win hailed a cab.

  We were silent other than Win giving the cabbie directions to my apartment. My phone buzzed in my hand.

  KING: Glad we could share this evening together—even though we are miles apart.

  I didn’t know what to text back. My mind was spinning from the conversation I’d just overheard, Win’s convincing role as my lover and the constant rush of pleasure to my body.

  REAGAN: Tonight has been educational—although I don’t know if I will survive this.

  KING: Have faith.

  16

  REAGAN

  I spent most of the night poring through all the information I could find on BioGen and the other company the Russian mobster had spoken of, SciTech. A small biopharmaceutical company, it was barely on the radar of the IFPMA, the International Federation of Pharmaceutical Manufacturers and Associations. A long name for a group of people whose job it was to oversee the global industry as the individual countries had their own regulatory bodies. The problem was, there was so much corruption in many of the other countries—like Russia—who knew if the manufacturers were ever inspected? Blackmail and payouts were commonplace and the drug industry wasn’t immune.

  We’d reported in to Daniels on what we’d found and he let us know to “stand by for orders.”

  “I’m tired,” Win admitted at three in the morning. “Mind if I crash here?”

  I’d long since shed my pleasure panties and bra and was happy to be working in my sweatpants and an old flannel shirt. One of my Dad’s, it always reminded me of him and of home.

  I twisted my hair into a knot on top of my head and thought of how to tell Win to go home. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  “Why? Because I told you I loved you at dinner tonight?”

  I bobbled my head in a sarcastic snit. “No. I know that was all an act.”

  Win stared at me and lazily blinked his tired green eyes. “Yeah.”

  “I just need to wrap my head around writing this report for Daniels and I need to concentrate. If you’re here snoring on my couch in my tiny apartment, I’m not going to be able to think.”

  “Who said I wanted to sleep on the couch?”

  “Very funny, Win.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll call you in the morning. We’ll need to make some plans.”

  “Plans?” I asked as I opened the door of the apartment into the hallway that always seemed to smell of cooked cabbage.

  “Don’t be surprised if we aren’t sent either to D.C. or Russia, even.”

  I nodded, not wanting to go to either place at the moment. More than anything, I wanted to wait in the city for King to arrive. But I could never let that be known.

  I shut the door and threw myself on the bed. I needed quiet. I needed time to think. I needed time to be Reagan, without King, Win or the Russians in my head.

  I plugged my phone into the wall and dropped my head on the pillow not even bothering to turn off the light.

  The faint buzzing next to my head worked its way into my dream and I found myself somewhere between sleep and consciousness as I watched King Giles standing in front of me completely nude as he had two nights before. I was wearing the pleasure panties and bra and each time I heard the buzz, I watched King flip his finger on his phone and smile.

  I rolled over and opened my eyes. “Wow,” I said. “That must be what they mean when they say sweet dreams.”

  Then I heard it again. The buzz. It was my phone.

  “Holy shit,” I said aloud, finally picking it up from the floor where it landed. I had seventeen missed calls. All from Win. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” I decided not to listen to the messages, but to call him instead. Whatever he needed, he needed it seventeen times.

  It was still early, but I knew he’d answer. “What the fuck Weatherford?”

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I left my phone on vibrate last night. What’s going on?”

  “I’m on my way back to Alabama.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Well if you’d listen to your damn messages, or better yet, if you’d keep your phone off vibrate, you’d know.”

  “Okay,” I said pounding my forehead with my open palm and pacing the room. “I get it. Now tell me what’s going on.”

  “There’s been a second murder, Reagan.”

  A shock of panic flooded my already anxiety riddled body.

  “Related to Tina Joseph?”

  “Yes. Listen, I’m boarding my flight for Birmingham in a couple of hours. Can you meet me at the airport? I took the last seat on this flight, but there’s another leaving right after—and it’s direct.”

  “Yes, of course,” I said, ne
arly shouting at him. “But what about the Russians?”

  “I’ll explain when you get here.”

  “Okay, but Win, who’s dead?”

  “It’s Joy Henderson. Giles’ attorney.”

  “What?”

  “She’d been dead at least forty-eight hours when they finally found her. And guess what?”

  “Win, just tell me for God’s sake.”

  “She had white lace panties shoved in her mouth—with his crown on them.”

  I was silent. “Reagan, do me a favor. If you beat me to Alabama, wait for me in baggage claim. And if you don’t mind, get me some coffee—black.”

  The line went dead and I threw my face into my pillow, my body a limp wet rag.

  Joy Henderson was dead and Win thought someone was listening to us.

  Landing at Birmingham-Shuttlesworth thirty minutes before Win, I waited. Logging into my secure email server I found little information on Joy. I didn’t know if that meant what was going down was highly classified or just highly classified to me.

  I fidgeted in the stiff chair and watched people arrive, hug their loved ones and wait for their luggage. It was a cycle that occurred about every twenty minutes and with each round I was more and more uncomfortable sitting there—especially after Win’s asked for black coffee.

  I wanted to call King, but knew I couldn’t. Instead I texted him two words, call me. If his phone was being monitored the last thing I wanted was a text from me alerting him to what was going to be a huge shit storm. There was only one thing that could save him from the interrogation and scrutiny of the second murder—an alibi. If Joy Henderson had been dead forty-eight hours, I was it. If King’s phone was being watched, I was already in trouble based on my texts to him last night. I didn’t know how that was going to go over with my partner, let alone my supervisor.

  “Hey, Gip.”

  I looked up and found Win standing with his backpack and suitcase in hand. So engrossed in my own predicament, I hadn’t noticed him coming down the escalator.

  “Hey.” I was finding it hard to be as enthusiastic as he was about a dead Joy Henderson. Still, I stood and gave him a reassuring nod. “Do you have a car coming?” I asked. “And what’s up with the black coffee?”

  “Ah, yeah,” he said knitting his brow. “What’s up with you? You look like someone just ran over your new puppy.”

  He didn’t know how close he was dancing with the truth. Still I lied. “I’m fine. Where are we meeting the car?” I asked as I made my way to the automatic doors to leave hoping he’d follow but not ask questions.

  Once on the sidewalk, I looked for the plain black sedan that would no doubt be our ride once again, and felt Win’s hand on my arm pulling me around to face him.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I just hope our Dr. Giles has a good story to tell, because the surveillance footage of Henderson’s condo shows a tall dark man in a hoodie entering Joy’s place two nights ago at three in the morning.”

  I didn’t say anything, but looked to my feet before coming back to his eyes. The expression on his face was shock and surprise. Then he said it. “Holy shit.” Win did a double take and stepped away from me and said it again. “Holy shit.”

  “What?” I was perturbed that he thought he knew something.

  “You spent the night with him… You slept with him, didn’t you?”

  “What?” My voice reached an angry pitch.

  “You had sex with King. Giles. Holy Jesus Reagan. Why’d you do that?”

  “I did not have sex—” I said the words before realizing how loud I was being and immediately brought my voice down to a whisper. “I did not have sex with King Giles.”

  Win looked away from me as two black sedans pulled in front of us, the driver of the first relinquishing the car and walking away.

  Win and I both got into the car and he stared at me, but didn’t drive.

  “What?” I asked, looking away.

  “Joy Henderson was found in her home, dead at seven a.m. this morning by King Giles’ assistant”

  “King’s assistant came over at seven in the morning?”

  “She was shot through the head, execution style. Her hands were bound and she was gagged—just like Tina Joseph—with a pair of white lace panties that had an embroidered crown on them.”

  I thought back to the panties in King’s bathroom drawer and drew a visual in my mind that made me shudder.

  “Any idea who might’ve given her those panties?”

  “King Giles.” I said his name without emotion or intent.

  “Well that’s what we’re thinking too. The local department is at his house now to pick him up and bring him in for questioning. You and I are going to the crime scene.”

  I sat up in my chair. Something wasn’t following for me. And just before I could say, why are we investigation this case? Win held up his hand for me to stop, then brought his fingers to his mouth and rubbed just the edge of his lips. It was a habit of his I’d picked up on and I felt like he did it each time he was deciding if I was worthy of knowing something. Placing one finger over his lips, he let me know to be quiet. “I have to take a pi—I need to stop to use the bathroom.”

  Taking the next exit, Win pulled into a gas station parking lot and we both got out of the car. He pointed to an empty field next to the attached convenience store where two people were giving their dogs a bathroom break.

  “What is it?” He nodded to the last older man walking his beagle away from the field and back into his pickup truck.

  When we were alone, he began to pace and finally spoke. “Daniels got a call from upstairs that you and I were to be on this case.”

  “Upstairs? What does that even mean?”

  Win came to a stop and looked at me. “It means someone in a very high ranking position is watching us—you and me—and I don’t know why. It’s why I didn’t want to talk in the car. That thing could be bugged seventeen ways to Sunday.”

  “Watching us do what?”

  “I have no idea, but we need to have each other’s back. So tell me now, Reagan—did you sleep with King Giles? Because for some reason I don’t believe you when you say no. Now why is that?”

  I looked to my hands. My always steady under pressure hands had begun to tremble. “Define sleep.”

  “Dammit, Reagan I’m your damn partner, just tell me the truth.”

  I looked him in the eye. “I didn’t have sex with him.” Win was right, we needed to have each other’s backs and I needed to tell him the truth no matter how embarrassing it might be. “I did share a bed with him.

  He dropped his head and looked to the ground. “You slept in the same bed with him but didn’t have sex.”

  “No sex.”

  “How does that happen? Did you fight him off? Did he try anything?”

  I put my hands on my hips. “I’m a trained FBI agent with a third degree black belt in karate. If he’d tried anything inappropriate he’d still be digging his balls out of his kidneys.”

  Win raised his eyebrows and held in the smile that crept from the corner of his mouth. “Well, okay then.”

  We stared at each other—both of us with our hands on our hips—both of us obstinate in our posture. Like siblings in a staring contest we each waited for the other to break. It wasn’t going to be me.

  Win turned away from me and I saw his shoulders rise and fall with the breath he took. “You should know better than to get involved with someone we are investigating.”

  Grabbing his shoulder I turned him around. “Since when are we investigating King Giles? You left town. I was the one who wanted to dig deeper.”

  “And clearly you did.”

  “Screw you, Win.”

  “Look, I don’t know what happened in the twenty-four hours you stayed behind, but there’s another dead body with Giles’ stink all over it and we’re being watched like kids in daycare. The last investigation evaporated in front of our very eyes and now we’re back at it again. I,
for one, don’t want to screw this up, Reagan. This is the kind of shit that either gets you promoted or killed in a tragic but suspicious car accident.”

  I shook my head. “You honestly think if we don’t do this properly someone is going to kill us and make it look like an accident?”

  “Or suicide.”

  “What?”

  “Happens all the time,” he said holding his arms wide and his palms up as if he was a sacrificial lamb before dropping them like lead weights at his side. “Why don’t you tell me what I need to know Reagan, before we get in that car and go to the crime scene. No one takes a pee this long.”

  “I went on a date with him.”

  “Fine. Dinner or something?”

  “A hot air balloon ride and champagne.”

  “Jesus,” Win said turning around in frustration. “I gotta hand it to the guy. He’s smooth.”

  I thought back to my enchanted evening with King and agreed. The man had class and joie de vivre. He was kind, loving and sexy as hell. The bra and panties had quickly turned me into the woman I knew deep in my heart I could be. I’d never met anyone like him. I stood in the field with Win and thought about touching his soft skin and hard body and knitted my shoulders.

  “Then what happened?”

  “Then we talked and it got late, so he asked me to stay—no strings attached. He gave me pajamas and we shared his bed. We slept. That’s all,” I said, thinking of my hands caressing his rigid manhood.

  “No blow job, no nothing?” The tone in Win’s voice was almost sympathetic to King’s plight.

  “No,” I droned.

  “The man had some blue balls the next day I’m sure. Was he with you the entire night, Reagan?” he asked, running the two sentences together without a breath. “He never left you?”

  “He never left me. But I can already tell you when they go to Rose Hill to pick him up for questioning, he’s not there.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He caught a plane yesterday morning for Washington D.C. Won’t be back until Friday.”

  Win held his hand out to me, beckoning me to follow him. “Let’s go, partner.”