Spy for Hire (For Hire)

by Cat Johnson

“It’s okay,” Chelsea said, surprising me as she spoke up. “It’s been cleared by Mark Hargrove from Angel.”

  I trolled my memories to place the name she’d used and came up empty, but her mention of it did the trick. The man nodded and stepped to the side just as a realization struck me. This man wasn’t embassy security. He was Angel Escorts security, there to watch the girls. Or was he there to contain them?

  Did the Austrian officials know what was happening here right under their noses during what should have been just another of their many cultural events? Or were they in on it? And if they were, to what end?

  There were too many unanswered questions and it was all I could do not to drag Chelsea down those stairs to get her as far away from this place as I could.

  It wasn’t until we were outside and across the street that I felt moderately safe. I wouldn’t feel completely so until we were in a vehicle and miles away.

  Zane, apparently, didn’t share my view. He stopped dead the moment we were off the embassy property and technically once again on US soil.

  He planted one hand on each of Chelsea’s shoulders, leaned in and said right to her face, “What the fuck did you think you were doing?”

  Zane’s intensity wasn’t lost on her. I saw the tears form in her eyes.

  My breath caught in my throat and I knew her tears were going to break me. I wanted to both claim her and comfort her, and I couldn’t do either standing where we were now.

  “Can we continue this elsewhere, please?” Somewhere there weren’t hired goons who might realize Chelsea had lied about having permission to leave and come after her.

  Zane’s glare moved from Chelsea’s face to mine. He drew in a breath and said, “Yes. Meet us at my office.”

  He reached for her hand but I wasn’t letting her go that easily now that I’d found her. “I’ll take her in my car and follow you there.”

  Again, Zane’s only reaction to my claim on Chelsea was the slight lift of a brow. But he nodded and I got my way, so I didn’t question the fact that my new obsession with a woman I’d spent one night with wasn’t a surprise to him.

  Apparently I was the only one surprised by it.

  EIGHT

  I unlocked the passenger door and handed her inside, slamming the door once she was safely buckled in. I sprinted around to the driver’s side, uncomfortable being even that far from her after the events of the day.

  Sliding behind the wheel, I clicked the locks and secured us in the vehicle.

  She didn’t speak as I started the engine and peeled out of the space. I did as promised and followed Zane’s black SUV, the looks of which screamed presidential motorcade, until we were far enough from Embassy Row I felt comfortable pulling over.

  I zipped into a municipal lot and pulled up to a floor where cars were few and we had some privacy. With the engine still idling I turned to Chelsea.

  She shivered in the seat and I didn’t know if it was from fear or the A/C pumping through the vents.

  I switched the blower to low and looked back to her, valiantly trying not to let my gaze remain on her nipples.

  It was too late. My mind went back to having them beneath my palm, in my mouth, against my bare chest.

  I blew out a curse and unhooked my seatbelt and then hers, before grabbing her face and kissing her hard. I plunged my tongue into her mouth, claiming her the way I’d wanted to since finding her in this ridiculous dress with those other men.

  It wasn’t enough. I needed more of her. Luckily the dress provided little to no barrier. I slipped one hand inside the plunging neckline, beneath the fabric to find her bare skin. I palmed her breast, squeezing the flesh until she drew in a breath.

  Christ, I’d missed her. I’d imagined doing this more often than I was comfortable admitting. I’d dreamed and woken frustrated to visions of these breasts, of her mouth, of loving her, more times than I could count.

  The steering wheel was in the way, as was the center console. I was willing to ignore both, as well as the discomfort if it meant I didn’t have to wait to be inside Chelsea.

  I found the pins securing her hair and I tugged at them, sending her tresses tumbling down. I remembered that hair splayed across my chest that night as she rode me. I needed more.

  I reached a hand down and gathered the fabric of her long dress. What it lacked on top, the dress more than made up for on the bottom in the long sweeping skirt.

  Finally, I reached the bottom and connected with the heat of her leg.

  Pushing up the hem, I moved higher until I hit the top of her thighs and slid my hand between them.

  Her soft whimper as I spread her legs was my undoing. I didn’t care if Zane was worried or waiting. I didn’t care if this was by no means private or appropriate.

  As my cock grew harder, I forged ahead. Bypassing the string that was masquerading as her undergarment I pushed inside her. The heat of her body engulfed my finger, making me want to plunge my cock inside.

  She gripped my forearm with one hand, while she tangled the fingers of her other hand in my hair.

  I knew well how to make her come in numerous ways. I’d employed enough of them that night and she’d delighted me over and over again. She didn’t disappoint me now as I worked her with one slick fingertip.

  She moaned against my mouth as her tongue wrestled with mine and I knew we weren’t leaving this car until we’d both found satisfaction.

  I extricated myself from the embrace to slide my seat all the way back and then reached for Chelsea in the passenger seat. She needed no coaching and climbed over to straddle me.

  She reached between us. As I watched she unfastened my trousers and slid her hand inside. The touch of her hand on my cock after all this time had my eyes closing but only briefly. I forced them back open to watch her face.

  Just the tip of her tongue peeked out as she stroked me with her hand. I nearly came right then and there, but I’d be damned if I finished this in her hand.

  After all this time I wouldn’t be happy until I was inside her. Gathering up the yards of fabric again I pushed it up and out of the way until I found what I sought.

  I lowered her over my length, shoved her minuscule panties to one side and plunged inside her.

  The feel of her body surrounding me forced the breath from my lungs.

  Arms wrapped around her waist, I pushed her lower until I was fully seated within her. After I got that initial claiming out of my system, I leaned back so I could see her face.

  This was no time to lecture her, but what she’d done, the danger she’d put herself in, had me insane.

  I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “Don’t ever do anything like that again.”

  I didn’t give her a chance to answer before palming the back of her head and taking her mouth again. I was buried deep inside this woman with both cock and tongue and the need to move, to take her, to drive us both to completion, was strong.

  Lifting her weight off me so I had the freedom to move, I supported her with my hands on her ass and pistoned inside her, fast and hard.

  Her breath against my ear sent a tingle down my spine. Her cries as they built to a crescendo had me pumping faster until I felt the orgasm break over her.

  Her body gripped mine as her muscles spasmed around my cock inside her.

  It threw me over the edge. I came hard and loud in a bloody sports car in a parking lot, without wearing protection, without thought for where we were, who might hear or that Chelsea deserved better than the front seat of my car.

  My only excuse was that this woman made me crazy.

  NINE

  We didn’t talk after that. Not while she cleaned herself with the paper napkins I offered her from the glove box. Not while we both righted our clothing. Not as I drove the short distance to Zane’s office or when I parked.

  I didn’t know if her silence stemmed from anger or embarrassment, but I was beginning to wonder if she’d ever speak to me again as we walked through the front door of the GAPS offi
ce.

  To be fair, I hadn’t attempted to make conversation either. I was wrestling with a good bit of emotion and confusion over the whole situation myself.

  If I had been trying to fuck away my feelings for her, one time in the car hadn’t done it.

  Zane was in the office to greet us, looking as unhappy as I expected he would be.

  He leaned against Chelsea’s desk, his arms crossed over his chest, his stare leveled on me in particular, but only after it had swept over Chelsea and he’d taken in the full scale of how disheveled she looked.

  If her tumbled hair and flushed cheeks didn’t tell him we’d just had sex in my car, I’m sure the newly rumpled state of my suit did.

  “My office.” He pushed off the desk, turned and strode to the back.

  Chelsea followed meekly behind and I brought up the rear, closing the door behind me so we could be assured privacy if anyone entered the office. I had a feeling we were going to need it.

  “Who’s going to explain?” Zane asked.

  If he thought I was going to tell him why we were late arriving, he was mistaken, but I would like to get to the bottom of what in the bloody hell Chelsea had been doing at the party that had turned out to be a who’s who of political dynasties.

  “Yes, I would like an explanation of what you were doing there as well. And dressed like that.” I indicated her attire with a tip of my head.

  Chelsea spun on me, eyes wide. “I don’t hear from you at all for six months and then you appear out of the blue and drag me out of a party?” She stopped shouting as she shook her head. “You don’t get to question what I do or how I dress.”

  I was shocked speechless by her outburst. I don’t do well with screaming fights even in private, but here in front of Zane—

  I dared to glance at Zane and there was that brow again. His gaze met mine for a second and I knew I would be hearing about this when we were alone because it was obvious that Chelsea and I were more than casual acquaintances.

  Zane refocused on Chelsea. “Maybe Tristan doesn’t have the authority, but I do. Chelsea, you’re my employee and you disappear without a word and go missing without a trace. I was worried about you. But just as important was the fact that you have access to sensitive information because of your job here, and your putting yourself in situations like you did today, puts both you and that information in jeopardy, because make no mistake that was not just a party. Those people there, and the people at Angel Escorts you chose to work for without my knowledge, are more than you bargained for.”

  I watched the tears form in her eyes as Zane cussed.

  “Jesus, don’t cry. Just don’t do anything like this again. You hear me?”

  She nodded, before finally bringing her gaze up to meet his. “How did you know about Angel Escorts?”

  He blew out a breath. “It’s what I do for a living, and what Tristan does, and we’re both damn good at it, which is why you should have come to me first if you were worried about your missing friend from Camelot. Not go off and play spy girl on your own.”

  After she recovered from her obvious shock that we knew about Camelot and Morgan too, she set her jaw, drew in a breath and said, “I’m sorry.”

  I took special note that the apology was delivered directly to Zane and didn’t include me.

  I suppose I deserved that. She was right. I hadn’t made contact after our one night together. But that didn’t mean I hadn’t thought about her a thousand times during those months, which was exactly why I’d avoided getting in touch with her.

  Chelsea was under my skin and that was a dangerous place for her to be.

  “May I be excused to use the ladies room?” she asked.

  Zane frowned. “Yes, of course you may. You don’t have to ask.”

  “Thank you.” She turned, uncustomarily submissive, shot me the briefest of glances, and left the office.

  The moment the door closed I braced myself. I didn’t know if it would be with his fist or his words but I knew Zane was coming after me for what I’d done with Chelsea.

  Surprisingly, he remained eerily calm as he stayed seated behind his desk and leveled an interested gaze on me. “I have to say watching a hot headed Jersey girl and an emotion-adverse Brit in a lovers’ spat might be one of the more interesting confrontations I’ve ever witnessed in my lifetime.”

  I shook my head, again shamed into silence.

  “You know, I’ve threatened to kick Brent’s ass if he ever touched Chelsea, but you—” Zane shook his head. “You flew right under my radar.”

  Recovering, I said, “To be fair, you were out of the country the night I met her.”

  “Yes, I was.” Zane nodded. “I should have known. You leaving her that thank you note for helping you. Her slyly hinting around about when you might be visiting again for a month afterward.”

  “She asked about me?” The question was out of my mouth before I could stop it. I regretted the words immediately.

  Zane’s eyes widened. “Jesus, man. It’s obvious you like her. So why did you ghost her?”

  I’d never heard the term ghost used in that context before but I could guess the colloquial meaning well enough. Zane was right. I had dropped out of her life without a word.

  “Because I do like her,” I answered.

  “Well get the fuck over it. You don’t get to molest my office manager once every six months and then disappear until the next time you’re in town and horny. Jesus, you did it in your car? Does it even have a back seat?” he asked.

  I didn’t mention that we’d done it in the front seat and said instead, “You don’t know that we did anything.”

  “Oh, yes I do.” Zane tapped his ear and said, “Forget something?”

  Bugger. The comm unit. I had forgotten, but that didn’t excuse his part in this. “Did you listen to us, you sick—”

  “No. I didn’t listen to you, but my poor guy got an earful before he contacted me and asked permission to cut off your comm. Which, might I add, was a dangerous choice for me to make since I have no clue how bad this thing is we’ve stumbled into. You could have had someone on your tail. I’m going to assume you were too occupied to notice if you did.”

  I drew in a breath, kept quiet and took the abuse. What could I have said? He was right about everything and I was most definitely in the wrong.

  “I’ll deal with it. With her.” Under the glare of his scrutiny, I added. “With us.”

  He nodded. “See that you do.”

  It felt like a dismissal, and I was happy to comply.

  I left Zane behind me and went in search of Chelsea. I found her in the bathroom.

  The door was open. I saw her clearly, her back to me as she faced the mirror and tried to salvage her hair and makeup from the damage I’d done to both in the car.

  Her gaze met mine briefly in the reflection before she went back to studying her own appearance. I moved forward and trailed a single finger down her bare back, satisfied when I saw her shiver from the touch.

  “I’m mad at you. Don’t try to soften me up with sex.”

  I smiled and asked, “Is it working?”

  She spun to face me. “No.”

  Resting my hands on her hips, I said, “I’ll just have to try harder then.”

  She didn’t smile. I was disappointed my teasing had fallen flat, but I didn’t blame her. I wasn’t going to get off the hook that easily. She was, after all, exactly what Zane had said, a Jersey girl. For better or worse, I’d seen the Real Housewives of New Jersey on television a couple of times when I couldn’t avoid it, so I knew what I was in for.

  “We need to talk. In private.” Preferably naked.

  She was definitely more compliant and less likely to shout at me when I distracted her with sex.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t have time for talking. Morgan is still missing and before you dragged me away I was hoping to get information that could help me find her. Now I have to start over.”

  “Wait. What are you going to
do? You’re not going back to the embassy.”

  She planted her hands on her hips. “I told you, you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

  “Because I didn’t call you for six months. I know. I was wrong. I was the stupidest man on earth.” I moved in on her, pulling her close. “I’m not going to make that mistake again. I promise you that. But whether I have the right to do so or not, I’m not letting you go back there.”

  “How are you going to stop me?” She glared up at me with a defiance that made me want to prove to her I could do exactly that.

  I didn’t have an answer as to how, but that didn’t stop me from saying, “I’ll find a way. Hell, I’ll marry you if I have to if that’s the only way to get you to do as I say.”

  She laughed. The problem was, I hadn’t been making a joke.

  “Are you nuts?” she asked.

  “Possibly. You make me that way.”

  She sighed, and damned if my gaze didn’t drop right to her chest as she did. I wrestled my focus up as she said, “I don’t know how it works in jolly old England, but in America a man doesn’t own his wife.”

  “This might be news to you, but in the countries of some of the men at that party you’re so anxious to get back to, men do own their wives.”

  She sighed again, and this time we were standing so close the move rubbed her tits against my chest. The idea of marrying Chelsea had its merits.

  “I wasn’t planning on going back to the embassy. As much as I want to find Morgan, Zane doesn’t want me there.”

  So she’d listen to Zane and not me. That bristled me quite a bit.

  I took my ego and my burgeoning erection out of the equation and appealed to the practical side of the argument. “Why are you acting as if you’re alone in this? I’m here to help. Zane and all of his resources are here to help. We managed to find you. That should prove we’re good at what we do. We can find Morgan.”

  “I work for GAPS. I know what Zane bills clients. I’d have to work for him for free for the rest of my life to pay for his time and resources to search for Morgan.”

  I brushed the back of my fingers along her cheek. “You don’t have to pay me.”