by Cat Johnson
“Chelsea’s work cell pinged. I had our computer guy monitoring both her personal cell and the one I gave her for work. Until now he’s gotten nothing on either, but today, her work phone pinged on a tower.”
My heart sped. “Where?”
“Here.”
“Here? Here where?” I asked.
“Embassy Row. She’s at the fucking Austrian Embassy.”
My eyes widened at Zane’s answer. Chelsea had been right here all this time.
But why hadn’t she been home? Why hadn’t she been answering calls or texts or emails? And why had both phones been off until now?
I could understand one dead battery, but not two at the same time and not for almost a week.
Relief she was close warred with the instinct that told me something wasn’t right.
“I’m going over,” I said.
“Hang on a second, James Bond. You can’t just walk in the front door of the Austrian Embassy and flash your British Embassy ID. They’re closed for regular business.”
I ignored Zane’s favorite pet name for me and said, “Then I’ll bypass the front door.”
It wouldn’t be the first time I’d broken in somewhere I shouldn’t be.
“Just hold up a second and listen to me. We did a little digging. There’s a Schubert concert being held there today, run by the Austrian Cultural Forum.”
Chelsea was at a Schubert concert at the Austrian Embassy after dropping completely out of sight for nearly a week? Was that where Angel Escorts had assigned her?
None of this made sense.
As I tried to wrap my head around this new information Zane continued, “I contacted the senator—”
“Your wife’s father?” I asked.
“Yes. He’s calling around now to get us in to the event.”
“I don’t care—”
“Hang on, Tristan. That’s him on the other line.”
As I waited on hold I continued walking toward my car, intent on driving to Embassy Row. Whether the senator could get us into this no-doubt ticketed event or not, I was getting inside that building.
I’d just switched the cell to speakerphone and started the engine when Zane came back on the line. “We’re in. Not just to the concert but to the VIP reception as well.”
It obviously paid to marry a prominent senator’s daughter.
“Should I wait for you at my office?” Zane asked.
He might be trained in sitting around and waiting to take action from his stint in the SEALs, but I was never any good at it.
“No. I’ll meet you there.”
The need to get there, get to her, hit me hard.
Chelsea could very well be in the VIP party. That sounded like something the escort service would supply companions for.
Just the thought had me clenching my jaw until my molars began to ache.
I smashed my dress shoe harder against the accelerator, then cursed when the blasted traffic had me slowing again.
“You still have that comm unit I gave you?” Zane asked.
“Yes.”
“Put it in. I’ll have one of our guys monitor yours and mine.”
And with that, my lone search became a coordinated high tech GAPS team mission—and given what I feared we could be up against, I was fine with that.
SEVEN
I arrived first, before Zane. No surprise there. I’d broken a few traffic laws but restrained myself from jumping the curb to get around traffic so I figured I was good.
Standing outside, looking up at the façade of the modern structure built to house the Austrian Embassy, I felt the storm of emotions brewing within me.
Beneath the anxiety of being outside the building, when every fiber of my being wanted to be inside looking for Chelsea, was an underlying shadow of dread.
Of all the embassies in all the world, why did it have to be the one belonging to this country, where spying was legal unless it was against the Austrian state. Where the espionage was so widespread and legendary it was literally worthy of the cinema. Where the far-right Freedom Party of Austria—aka the FPÖ—openly supported Russia and Putin’s interests.
The FPÖ controlled the Austrian government’s intelligence services, meaning anything shared with them by the US or the UK would no doubt also be passed on to the Kremlin.
Diplomats, spies—in Vienna there was no difference.
At least Chelsea wasn’t actually in Vienna, and only in the embassy. Though by being here, she was on what legally was considered Austrian soil, even if it was in the middle of D.C..
But her location made no consequence. I was getting to her no matter where she was. Her being here made it more convenient and made my getting to her that much quicker . . . if only that Yank SEAL would get here.
“Hey.” Zane’s greeting had me spinning to face him.
I bit my tongue and managed not to say what I was thinking—that it was about bloody time he got here.
Instead I tipped my head toward the building as my adrenaline surged. “Shall we go in?”
He nodded, saying as we turned toward the entrance, “Comms in?”
“Yes.” The tiny unit was inserted firmly in my ear, invisible to the casual observer.
“Chris, you copy?” Zane asked.
“Loud and clear. The Brit’s comm too. Y’all are good to go.”
I startled at the response, delivered directly into my ear canal in a thick southern drawl.
“Copy that,” Zane replied to his team member and turned his head toward me as he reached for the front door. “Our names should be on the list at the front desk.”
They’d better be, or I’d be entering through the back door, or a window, if I had to.
Zane was a man of his word, or rather his wife’s father the senator was. We were directed to the auditorium with VIP passes hanging from lanyards around our necks that would grant us access to the balcony level where the private gathering was being held.
Being on the VIP list turned out to be fortunate. We weren’t even searched, which was a good thing given my leg holster.
With the full access pass I was confident I’d be able to find Chelsea. I wasn’t leaving until I did.
Next to me, Zane mumbled an obscenity.
Eyes wide, I whipped my head around to stare at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Chris just reported to me that her phone’s back off.”
I set my jaw. That didn’t mean she wasn’t still here. Just that she’d powered off her cell. I didn’t let it deter me, but we didn’t have much time. The concert would be beginning soon. Once it did, we’d be unable to wander freely in the main auditorium.
Even from up in the balcony, we wouldn’t be able to scan every face in the crowd once the house lights dimmed to spotlight the musicians on stage.
“We need to separate. We can cover twice as much area,” I said.
“Agreed.”
“You take the main floor. I’ll search upstairs.” My gut told me Chelsea was up there.
That instinct alone was enough to send me sprinting up the staircase, but logic also supported my theory about her possible location. It seemed as if Angel Escorts dealt with high profile clients. I doubted they’d be among the crowd downstairs when there was a VIP area in which to entertain them.
The buzz of conversation and the clink of glasses directed me to where I needed to go—a private soiree located upstairs.
Security—a hulk of a man—stopped me with one outstretched palm against my chest when I reached the top of the staircase.
Little did he realize he was risking his life by laying hands on me and by standing between me and my goal.
He flipped my pass around then stepped back and waved me through.
Good man. I moved past him and scanned the area.
Doors off one side of the wide center hall space led to private balconies. I’d search every one of those balconies if necessary.
Once I had the lay of the area, including exits, I began to take note o
f the attendees, who were a mix of drop-dead gorgeous women and men who, judging by their variety of dress, were foreign dignitaries.
It was like someone decided to host a cocktail party and the guest list was restricted to the models from Vogue and all the foreign delegates to the United Nations.
The mystery deepened as I continued my visual scan of the space.
Upon closer look another aspect of the guest demographic began to form as I recognized first one face, and then another. These weren’t just foreign diplomats. These were forerunners in some of the most contentious elections happening around the world this year.
Jair Bolsonaro was a candidate for the presidential election in Brazil.
I spotted a key player in Mexico’s presidential election, Ricardo Anaya.
There could be more I didn’t have eyes on or wouldn’t recognize. The presence of these men, in addition to the largest collection of gorgeous model types I’d ever seen not on a runway, made this whole gathering suspect in my opinion.
What was this supposed escort service really up to?
An expanse of bare skin, exposed by upswept blonde hair and a dress cut obscenely low in back grabbed my attention.
Chelsea.
I’d stared at her porcelain skin long enough the one night we’d been together that I’d recognize her anywhere, even from behind.
I closed the distance between us in a few long strides and wrapped my hand around her arm.
Leaning in, I whispered against her ear, “Funny seeing you here.”
She startled and spun to face me, her eyes widening when she saw me. I also noticed the frown I got from the man she had been in conversation with. Him I didn’t recognize.
I purposely hadn’t said Chelsea’s name, and didn’t give any indication of our connection. Best not to tip my hand. I didn’t know the man she was speaking with when I’d interrupted, or who she might be pretending to be while here.
“Pardon, but would you mind if I steal your companion for a moment?” I’d asked it as a question, but I didn’t wait for an answer. As he drew his dark brows down over his eyes, I steered Chelsea away from him and off to the side.
“You got her?” Zane’s question came through the unit in my ear.
“Yes,” I answered him as she continued to stare at me.
I didn’t miss how her gaze kept shooting around the room. She was worried.
Hell, I was worried too and I had a gun strapped to my calf, Zane on his way upstairs and, I assumed, a GAPS team waiting to rush in with one word from their boss. But I didn’t like not knowing exactly who or what I was up against. I needed to find out, sooner rather than later.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone low and intense.
It was quite a question, considering it was coming from the woman who’d been missing for almost a week and now had a team of highly trained operators dedicated to finding her.
“I was about to ask you the same question, love,” I said. “Why don’t we go somewhere and have a chat about how we both happened to be here?”
At that moment Chelsea’s eyes cut to something behind me. With her still firmly in my grasp, I turned and was relieved to see she was reacting to the sudden appearance of Zane, and not some threat I needed to deal with.
“Oh, and I forgot to mention our mutual friend is also here.” I smiled for the benefit of anyone watching us.
I was relieved to have found her, but I wouldn’t be happy until I knew what was going on and we were all far away from here.
Though that wasn’t completely accurate. I wouldn’t be truly satisfied until I had Chelsea naked and beneath me.
Some primal force drove me to get her away from here and the men she’d been hired to entertain. She’d only been mine for one night, but that was enough to awaken within me some Neanderthal-like feeling of ownership.
I needed to fuck away the fear and worry and adrenaline-fueled energy that had been driving me for the last twenty-four hours. Ever since Brent had first uttered those words that stole my breath. Chelsea is missing.
Zane came to stand next to us. He leaned in and kissed her on one cheek in what looked like a greeting between friends, but while he was close he asked her, “You all right?”
“Yes. What are you both doing here?” she asked.
“We’re representing Senator Greenwood. He couldn’t be here but supporting the arts has always been dear to his heart.” Zane answered her loud and clear for anyone who might be listening.
“Can we go?” I asked, feeling the presence of every man in the room keenly.
Chelsea shook her head. “I can’t leave.”
“Yes, you can.” Zane wrapped his fingers around the arm I’d let go of when he’d arrived.
He was obviously feeling the same urge as me to grab Chelsea and get the bloody hell out of here.
His sharing my suspicions that there was more going on here than originally met the eye didn’t ease my discomfort.
I turned and glanced around the room again, trying to get a feel for if we were being watched or ignored now that Chelsea had obviously been taken off the flesh market at this so-called VIP party.
If for no other reason, we needed to get out of here so I could let her know how I felt about her new employment with the escort service. As it stood, I was ready to torch the Angel Escort offices at first opportunity.
“I’m working.” She said it low but with an intensity that clearly conveyed all the words she’d held back.
“See, now that’s where we have a difference of opinion because as far as I knew you worked for me. Am I wrong?” He cocked one brow high, taking her to task, and I was happy for it.
Someone needed to set her straight and as much as I was feeling possessive about her, deep down I knew I had no right to tell this woman what to do.
Though, no, that was bollocks because she needed someone to tell her. Because when left alone to her own poor judgment she ended up working as an escort for hire in a dress with a front as nearly non-existent as its back.
I pressed my lips together and yanked my gaze up from the nipples that were very clearly protruding through the thin fabric of her much too revealing dress.
“You’re working?” I asked. “Then I’ll hire you. Come on. You’re mine for the night.”
Before she could protest, I hauled her against me.
I saw her shocked expression right before I closed in on her mouth.
My lips connected with hers in a hard, demanding kiss, which only increased my anger and desperate need to possess her, save her, shelter her, claim her.
I could justify the kiss by saying it would ruin her chances of going off with any of Angel’s clients in the room, but that wasn’t true. I wanted to kiss her. Needed to.
Besides, a suspicion that attributed to the sick feeling in my gut told me that the men here wouldn’t care all that much if I’d had Chelsea first. They’d probably enjoy a good gang bang.
Too angry to even enjoy the heat of her mouth any longer, I pulled back and saw the mixture of emotions in her.
Nostrils flaring as I tried to draw in a calming breath, I probably had frightened her as much as surprised her.
“We’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement I delivered in a tone that told her I didn’t give a damn if she didn’t agree.
“Okay.” Her acquiescence calmed me a bit.
I laced my hands through hers and glanced up at Zane. He cocked a brow up but didn’t appear quite as shocked by my move as I’d expected.
“Ready?” I asked Zane.
“Ready.” He turned and led the way to the staircase, as I pulled Chelsea along with me and followed him.
All the while there was a running list in my head. What I wanted to say. What I wanted to do. Every obscenity I couldn’t get out at the moment. Every lecture I needed to give her—though those might be best delivered in private with Chelsea naked across my lap and accompanied by an open-palmed slap against her lily white ass.
<
br /> A lesson she’d never forget might be the only way to protect this woman from herself.
After that I’d fuck her, install new locks and a security system in her place, and then fuck her again.
Then I might be able to get some rest without worrying. But only after she swore to me she’d never be so stupid as to go after a missing friend without backup, without telling anyone where she was or what she was doing.
A bloody escort service. What was she thinking?
She needed to be taught a lesson about what could have happened to her. She was lucky I was the one who was dragging her out of this choreographed den of iniquity and not one of the others.
I’d seen too bloody much in my life and in my time with MI6 not to have a chill run through me when I considered the possibilities. She could have ended up in a foreign country in some middle-east harem. Or worse, part of the sex slave trade.
She needed more than just the spanking I planned on delivering. Her actions could have cost her her life. I needed to be sure she never did anything so stupid again. But I had no idea how to convince her enough that I could rest assured she’d never do it again.
At least Zane was on my side. He’d be another set of eyes on her. Hell, I’d get him to track her if I had to. We could easily put GPS devices in everything she owned. Her car. Her two cell phones . . .
I realized my thoughts were veering into dangerous territory. Besides the dubious legalities of monitoring Chelsea’s movements, the obsession she caused in me was a new and uncomfortable feeling.
I’d have to deal with that later because now there seemed to be something happening that needed my attention more.
The hulking security guard who’d looked over my pass on the way up the stairs seemed to have a dual purpose, and that was to prevent us from leaving.
He stepped in front of Zane, blocking our exit.
“We’re just going downstairs.” Zane moved to walk around the man, but he moved with him.
“I’m sorry. You can go, but she can’t leave.” He tipped a chin toward Chelsea.
“Excuse me?” Zane’s shocked question didn’t faze the guard, or make him move.
Beside me, I felt Chelsea shaking. I tightened my grip on her hand.
