Spy for Hire (For Hire)

by Cat Johnson

  I looked back to Zane. “I take it you didn’t know all this.”

  Zane let out a short laugh. “No, I did not.”

  “I expect you’ll not hold any of this against her.” There was warning in my tone.

  He leveled a glare at me. “You know me better than that.”

  I sighed. I did. Zane hadn’t held Kenya against me and the stakes in that had been the lives of his team. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Forget about it. Let’s worry about Chelsea for the moment.”

  Brent leaned forward. “Yeah, I’m not sure how this all helps us find her.”

  I noted Brent’s use of the word us and I didn’t like it.

  Sapphire was starting to look antsy as I continued to hold her tip hostage. I turned my attention back to her and said, “So Chelsea came in asking about Morgan’s job at Angel Escort Services? What did you tell her?”

  “I told her that Morgan had been talking about some supposedly amazing upcoming assignment a couple of weeks ago, but I hadn’t heard from her since.”

  “Is that strange, your not hearing from Morgan for weeks?” I asked.

  “Not really. I mean people get busy. But Chelsea was worried because Morgan wasn’t answering her texts.”

  I digested this information, which backed up Chelsea’s roommate’s story.

  “Look, that’s the extent of the conversation, so if there’s nothing else . . .” The dancer glanced at the bill in my hand.

  “No, that’s it. You’ve been very helpful. Cheers.” I handed the money to her.

  Her expression of annoyance turned into a smile. “Anything else I can do for you gentlemen?” Her gaze roamed to Zane and then Brent, who’d gone pale again.

  “No. We’re good. Thanks,” Brent stuttered.

  Zane laughed and then said, “We’re all set here. Thank you. But we’ll be sure to ask for you if we change our mind.”

  That promise appeased Sapphire, who beamed a brighter smile in Zane’s direction. “Be sure that you do, handsome.”

  Then with a flash of sequins and bare bum, she was gone, off to the next table of potential customers.

  “So you think Chelsea went looking for her missing friend Morgan and that’s why she’s missing as well?” Zane asked, focused on the case even as Brent still watched Sapphire moving away.

  I nodded. “And I think it all comes back to this Angel Escort Service.”

  Zane blew out a breath filled with frustration. “I can completely envision Chelsea trying to investigate this on her own. I’ve worked with her for months. She’s gung-ho and all-in, even when she’s in over her head.”

  “Exactly.” I’d seen that with my own eyes.

  Finally rejoining the conversation, Brent looked from Zane to me. “So what do we do?”

  We weren’t going to do anything. I hated to break it to both of them, but the plan was for me to go in to Angel Escorts undercover to find her. Not us.

  I emphasized that as I said, “I’m going to check out Angel Escorts. Alone.”

  “How you going to work it?” Zane asked.

  “I’ll have to play it by ear. Feel them out first. I suppose I could tell them I had met Morgan here at Camelot a while ago. When I came back her friend told me she works for them. If they see it’s worth a lot to me to see her again, I’m hoping they’ll make it happen.”

  “But what if Morgan really is missing? They won’t be able to produce her,” Brent pointed out.

  “But their explanation of why she’s unavailable could be a lead,” Zane said.

  I nodded. “That and if they offer me other girls instead, I’ll ask to meet them first. Asking the right questions might yield more information.”

  “Information about not just Morgan, but maybe Chelsea too.” Brent was beginning to get excited, which concerned me.

  “This is a one man job. If two or more of us end up at Angel asking questions about the same girl, it’s going to send up red flags.”

  Brent scowled. “I know, Tristan. I know I’m not a SEAL or a spy, but I’m not stupid.”

  “No one said you were, Rosebud. Just take a breath.” Zane’s teasing only made Brent’s frown deepen.

  I didn’t know the story behind Zane’s pet name for Brent and at the moment, I didn’t care. Once again the witty banter would have to wait. I had a plan to execute and none of this was helping further that.

  “Can we get back to the plan to find Chelsea, please?” I asked.

  Zane sobered. “Yes, of course. What do you need from me? You have all of my resources at GAPS at your disposal.”

  “Mine too,” Brent said. “Anything available to me from Hearst Corp. is yours, if you need it.”

  “Thank you.” I blew out a breath, grateful for their generous offers of resources since I wasn’t running this through MI6. I might like to work alone but I wasn’t used to being completely without the logistical support of the home office. “The truth is I don’t know what I’ll need until I get inside.”

  “But you’ve got the basics, right?” Zane asked. “I’m assuming you’re armed.”

  “I am.” I nodded. Well-armed.

  “Good. What about a burner phone?”

  “Yes.” More than one actually, in addition to the secure unit I used exclusively for headquarters. I’d grabbed everything I could carry during the five minutes I’d had in my New York rental when we’d stopped on the way to the airport.

  “I want you to take this. Just in case.” Zane stood and drew something out of his pocket. Reaching across the table, he handed me a communications unit.

  Brent snorted. “I recognize that little item.”

  “You should. You destroyed the one I loaned you.” Zane cocked up one brow.

  “I didn’t do anything to it. Talk to Alex about that. She’s the one who smashed it. Hell, I think you should dock her pay for it.”

  Zane rolled his eyes. “Your equipment. Your fault. Next time, don’t let a woman take your shit away from you.”

  I fingered the communicator, wishing Chelsea would walk through the door of the club so I too could joke and laugh and reminisce with the others.

  But the chances were that wasn’t going to happen and it was obvious the worry and the responsibility was mine and mine alone.

  I held up the comm unit. “Thank you for this.”

  Zane nodded. “Hopefully, you won’t need it.”

  My hopes exactly.

  “I’ll be in touch when I can.” I stood.

  Zane’s eyes narrowed. “You’re going over now?”

  I tipped my head. “No time like the present.”

  “You contact me if you need anything.” Zane’s offer sounded more like an order.

  Since I might have to actually take him up on that I agreed. “Will do.” I shot a look toward Brent. “Thank you again for the ride from New York.”

  Brent shook his head. “It was the very least I could do.”

  I’d been annoyed by their joking but this new pall that had fallen over our small group seemed worse. As if they were saying goodbye to me forever.

  What were they worried about? I wasn’t the one in danger. But anyone who’d harmed even one hair on Chelsea’s head most definitely would be.

  I was completely off book with this self-assigned mission I’d taken on. Normal agency protocol didn’t apply. There were no rules of engagement, and even if there were, in this case, when it came to Chelsea’s well being, I’d have no issue with breaking a few rules . . . or bones.

  SIX

  Things didn’t go as quickly or as smooth as I anticipated. Angel Escort Services was not the slap-dash organization I’d hoped. They didn’t willingly open their employee files for my perusal just because I flashed the air of wealth and the willingness to part with it.

  Oh, no doubt, they appeared to be a friendly, open organization whose only goal was to make the customer happy.

  In reality, beneath the surface where a layman wouldn’t notice were clues that they were a high te
ch, self-serving and—dare I say—mercenary corporation.

  Escort service. Rubbish! Angel was a well-oiled, information-gathering machine. Whether they used the information to further their own business or to sell to others, from what I’d seen so far Cambridge Analytica had nothing on Angel Escort services.

  I didn’t miss the surveillance in the front office. I also knew better than to underestimate the corporation. I had no idea if they were wired into facial recognition software and were currently running me through a database, so I stuck to the truth for the main facts.

  I provided the real information for my name and my employer. Or at least, I provided the information for my cover employment.

  It made sense to do so. I was sure I wasn’t the first foreign embassy worker to visit here, nor would I be the last.

  From the customer application I was required to fill out alone they now had an enormous amount of valuable demographical information about me.

  Where I lived. For how long. If I rented or owned.

  All those seemingly routine questions—asked under the guise of offering me a line of credit with the escort service, which in itself was surreal—were no doubt designed to determine my social and economic standing.

  Would I like to connect with Angel Escorts on social media? If so I’d get all sorts of special offers and insider access. In reality it was them who would have access to me and all of my information, and my friends’ information, after I made that connection.

  There were sociological and psychological questions they snuck in as well, such as this gem—

  Angel Escorts donates ten percent of all profits to charity annually. Please write in the top three not-for-profits you’d like to see us consider for our annual donation.

  How generous of them. Right?

  Wrong. There was no way the wankers were as selfless as that.

  I didn’t know if they actually donated one bloody quid to charity, but I did know the data they gathered on this question could be sold or exploited. It would provide them with information they could use to build a profile that could be used for audience targeting.

  Or I should say they would have been able to do that if I hadn’t strategically lied on every question I could get away with.

  I wrote what I calculated they wanted to see from me. I answered in a way that would make me seem ripe for the picking and would hopefully gain me access to Morgan and the answers I sought.

  Once my creative paperwork entries were completed, I stood and carried the clipboard to the receptionist’s desk.

  The girl seated there smiled at me. “Wonderful. Just let me run this to the back for processing then we can talk about your needs.”

  My needs.

  Besides my theories about their black hat data collection practices, I wondered what other gray areas Angel Escorts operated in. Did the escorts provide more services than acting as arm candy?

  Unfamiliar predatory feelings hit me hard, forcing me to remind myself I wasn’t even sure Chelsea had stepped foot in this place. Her coming here to find Morgan was all just a theory at this point, but since it was my only theory I had to act upon it.

  I didn’t know if she could be somewhere being manhandled by a foreign dignitary with diplomatic immunity but my jaw and my fists clenched anyway.

  If anyone laid a hand on her, nothing would protect the man who did it from the absolute terror I would wreak upon him.

  “So, let’s talk options. You said you needed an escort to entertain visiting dignitaries in town for an upcoming embassy event?” The receptionist had returned and I had to force back the raw rage I’d let surface and don the cool demeanor of a man about to order himself a girl or two for some platonic companionship for my visitors.

  The memory that Chelsea had almost applied for employment here—would have if not for a slip of the finger that had led her to GAPS—had my nostrils flaring as I drew in an angry breath.

  When I found that girl it was going to be hard not to lock her up for her own safety.

  My baser self decided that handcuffed to my bed would be a nice safe place for her and enjoyable for both of us.

  But I had to find her first. And to do that, I had to lie my arse off now.

  She was still waiting for me to give her my list of needs so I said, “Yes. Actually, I’ll want possibly two escorts.”

  I had every intention of killing two birds with one stone and try to get information on Morgan and Chelsea, if possible.

  “One for yourself?” She smiled.

  Jesus. Beneath all the trappings and intrigue, this place was also clearly in the business of peddling flesh.

  “No. Just for my visitors,” I returned.

  “All right. Do you prefer any particular physical attributes?” she asked.

  The anger began to rise again over my having to choose my options for a female companion as if I were ordering a car.

  Heated leather seats. Sunroof. Bluetooth. Blonde. Brunette. Redhead . . .

  “I already have an idea of who I’d like—if she’s available.”

  “Oh? I thought you haven’t used our service before.”

  I had to decide quickly on my direction for this lie. I could say a friend of mine had used the service and recommended Morgan, but that left too many questions with no answers. Who? Where? When?

  Best to stick to what I knew.

  “That’s correct. I haven’t used your service before—but now that I’ve been here I can assure you I will definitely be using you again.” I flashed a smile to accompany the flattery.

  She returned my smile. “That’s very good to hear.”

  “In past I’ve entertained important visitors at a local gentlemen’s club,” I continued.

  “Camelot?” she asked.

  I feigned shock at her guess. “Yes. You know it?”

  “Definitely. That’s where some of our best girls have come from.”

  “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised because it was one of the employees at Camelot who suggested your service. And she told me that one of my favorite girls works here now.”

  “Who is that?” she asked.

  “Morgan? I’m sorry I don’t know her last name.”

  “Oh, I know Morgan.” She nodded with enthusiasm. “No last name needed. We only have one Morgan and she used to work at Camelot.”

  “Brilliant. Is she available?” I asked, my pulse racing.

  “I can leave her a message with the details and see.”

  “That would be lovely if you could leave her a message, but I was really hoping to have confirmation she was available today.”

  “I understand, but our girls work as independent contractors. They take assignments when they’re available but they’re not on a set schedule.”

  “Ah, understood. There was another woman who also worked at Camelot. Tall, pretty blonde. I think her name was Cassie—no, wait. It was Chelsea.”

  She perked up at my mention of the name. “I’m the one who took Chelsea’s employment application. She just came in last week.”

  My heart thundered. “Really? What a wonderful coincidence. I remember my gentlemen guests really liked her as well. Any chance she’s available?”

  “No, I’m sorry. I believe the boss sent her right out the day she applied.”

  Holy mother of God, I couldn’t believe I’d actually gotten confirmation Chelsea had been here. Not only been here, but she’d also been sent out on a job.

  Adrenaline pounded through me as I tried to look only mildly interested in the information the receptionist didn’t realize was hugely important to me.

  “Oh, did he? Just my luck. Any idea when she’ll be back?”

  “I don’t really know.” She smiled broadly. “But we have a number of others for you to choose from.”

  I needed to get out of here. Not just because I was convinced Chelsea had gotten herself into some sort of trouble on this assignment that had kept her MIA for almost a week, but because the hairs on the back of my neck were stan
ding on end.

  Something felt dodgy here.

  The receptionist was too helpful while not really being helpful at all. The company gave the appearance of being accommodating but only when offering the options they wanted me to have.

  Normally, I’d come back tonight, disable security and try to locate the files to find where Chelsea had been sent, but I had a feeling the not-so-hidden camera in the reception area was just one of many security measures in place.

  I hated to say it after my declaration at the club today, but it was very possible that I needed help. The kind that Zane and his company’s resources could provide.

  But first I had to get out of here without causing suspicion or hiring an escort for a non-existent visiting dignitary.

  I frowned and reached into my suit pocket to draw out my cell phone. I glanced at the blank screen and then at the receptionist.

  “It seems the boss needs me. Can I possibly come back when I have more time to discuss options?”

  “Of course. We’ll be here.” She beamed.

  “Thank you I’ll be in touch.” I nodded and turned for the door.

  Discuss options. I hated the words even more after hearing them come out of my own mouth. I felt disgusted just saying it in regard to hiring women.

  When all this was over—and God I hoped it was over soon—I needed to see about shutting this place down.

  As I pushed out the door I realized I had quite a list of things I wanted to do, but none of them were what I was supposed to be doing according to the home office.

  One day I was going to have to do something about that. Today was not that day.

  To my surprise I hadn’t even put my cell away yet after my sham text message from my boss when it actually did vibrate in my hand.

  The display showed Zane’s name. He was probably anxious to hear if I’d made progress.

  It was no small blow to my ego that I was going to have to admit I didn’t get a whole lot out of the people at Angel Escorts, except for confirmation that Chelsea had been there.

  I couldn’t discount the importance of that. I tried to keep that in mind as I answered the call. “Zane.”

  “I’ve got her.”

  His words stopped me mid-step toward my car. “Pardon?”