by Cat Johnson
Though I had to admit the idea of Chelsea owing me, and all the creative ways I could collect on the debt, was appealing.
“Don’t you have your own work to do?”
“No. I’m currently between assignments.” The beauty of it was, this time it was actually true.
I hadn’t had to dodge any calls from the home office yet because they assumed I was wrapping up here and would be back in London at week’s end to be reassigned. But I’d no doubt start to get phone calls when I didn’t appear as ordered.
After the way they’d pulled me off the assignment without regard to my progress or my feelings in the matter, I didn’t feel at all badly about disobeying a direct order in order to help Chelsea.
My source was still in the wind and I did feel bad about that. Though if he did cancel our meet because he was concerned he was under suspicion, my dropping out of his life to pursue Chelsea was a good thing.
Before I left the country, I’d disobey the home office’s directive to drop the case and attempt contact with Ivan. After two years I needed to make sure he was all right.
Even after I’d checked on him, the idea of leaving the country and Chelsea still didn’t set well with me. I pushed the thought away to be dealt with later.
“You’d really do that? Help me find Morgan?” she asked.
“Love, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.” The problem with that statement was, it was also true.
That was something I was going to have to deal with later as well.
TEN
We reentered Zane’s office together. The whole situation had the surreal feel of her sneaking in after curfew and having to face her father waiting for us in the dark. I remembered why I preferred to work alone. Then I could do what I wanted with no judgment.
I pulled over a chair and offered it to Chelsea. When she sat, I took a seat in the chair next to her.
Zane stood and crossed the room to reach into the small fridge just outside his door. When he returned, he carried three bottles of water and handed one to each of us and then left again.
When he came back the second time, it was with a bottle of Macallan and three glasses.
The man did know his booze and I could certainly use a drink. He poured three shots and delivered one to each of us. I nodded my thanks and took a sip while I remembered his words from years ago.
Celebrate the small wins.
He was right. We’d found Chelsea and we were all alive and unharmed. That was more than a small win, in my opinion.
When Chelsea sat with the glass held in her hand, untouched, Zane said, “Drink.”
She let out a breath but complied, making a face as she swallowed. I downed a good bit of my own scotch whisky, quite sure my own face showed no expression except that of appreciation because Zane only drank the good stuff.
“Now, talk,” he said to Chelsea.
He’d never gotten his explanation and neither had I as to exactly why Chelsea had been at the embassy except, I assumed, that she’d thought it would aid her somehow in finding her friend.
It was time she shared what had happened since she’d gone into the Angel Escort Services office almost a week ago. I drained my glass as I hoped I could handle whatever she revealed.
She drew in a breath and said, “I think Angel is up to something, besides being an escort service—”
“Yes. I agree.” I was so relieved I interrupted her and received the glare of censure from Zane I deserved. I cleared my throat. “Go on.”
“The last time I saw Morgan a couple of weeks ago, she had so many designer shopping bags she could barely walk and was talking about how the escort service, or at least the client, was paying for it all. It was in preparation for some big party they were all being flown to for some leader of some country she couldn’t pronounce and where they weren’t allowed to bring cell phones but they needed their passports. It was supposed to be one weekend. She promised to call me when she got back. She never did.”
“And you didn’t come right to me?” Zane asked, leaning forward, eyes wide.
“I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Chelsea, it’s not a bother. It’s what I do here.”
“I know. And I know I can’t afford to hire you.”
Zane mumbled a curse. “I wouldn’t have charged you. Besides, you sneaking off cost me more money than if you’d just asked for help to begin with. I’ve had the tech guy on this since you disappeared and I had to ask Chris to man the comms today. That’s all on top of my worry about you.”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice wobbled as she said it.
“I don’t want your apology,” Zane said to her before turning his gaze on me. “Although you might want to apologize to Chris.”
Duly chastised, I reached out to rub Chelsea’s back, fearing she’d start to cry and I’d be forced to make Zane pay for upsetting her again.
“Tell us what happened after you went to Angel and got hired. And what makes you think they are more than just an escort service?” I asked, interested in hearing what she’d observed since I’d come to the same conclusion myself.
The slump of her shoulders disappeared as she sat taller and angled in the chair to address both Zane and me. “The moment I walked in the office I could tell. There was a tiny high tech looking camera in the corner. I wouldn’t have noticed it at all if I hadn’t been working here and been attuned to things like that.”
“I saw it too.” I nodded.
“You were there?” she asked, wide eyed.
“Yes. I was looking for you.”
“How did you know to look there?”
“Sapphire told me,” I said.
Her eyes flew wider. “You were at Camelot?”
“Yes.”
Chelsea’s brow furrowed. “Why? How?”
“Trina told me to try there.”
Now her mouth opened, adding to her surprised expression. She finally recovered and closed it before saying, “I guess you are good at what you do. Or I just have big-mouthed friends.”
I smiled. “Bit of both, I imagine, but go on. You were at Angel,” I prompted, before Zane lost his patience with our stroll down memory lane.
“Yes. So the bimbo at the front desk takes my application.”
I smothered a smile at her colorful description of the receptionist.
Chelsea continued, “Then the head guy comes out from the back and says I’m hired and they have a job for me that night but I have to leave right away. Since the bimbo had told me she hadn’t heard from Morgan in weeks, I had to take the job. I figured it could be the only way to get answers.”
“No. Not the only way and definitely not the safest way.” Zane’s narrow eyed stare had her slumping again.
“I know.”
I hated how she visibly deflated at every censure, how the spark left her, but Zane was right to do it. She’d put herself in danger, and knowing her she’d do it again. She really did need to learn that lesson and I wasn’t convinced she had.
Zane could deliver the lectures now and I would administer the spankings later to reinforce the lesson. I was quite happy with that plan,
“What was the job they sent you on that night?” Zane asked.
I covered her hand with mine, as much for her benefit as my own as I feared what I’d hear. It was an escort service, after all.
“We were supposed to cozy up to these guys.”
I drew in a measured breath as my back teeth began to hurt from my clenching my jaw so tight.
Zane cut his gaze to me and then back to Chelsea. “Cozy up how?”
It was a question I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer to.
“We were supposed to—” she glanced at me and then back to Zane and my stomach clenched in addition to my jaw. “You know, hang on them. Flirt. Sit in their laps. Whisper in their ears. Laugh at their jokes.”
“Sex?” Zane asked in an even voice and matter-of-fact tone, something I wouldn’t have been able to do at the moment.
“No,” she said directly to him before cutting her gaze to me briefly again. “I mean—” She drew in a breath before she continued, “We were allowed to. Encouraged even, to go off on our own and act as independent contractors if we wanted to and if it’s what the client wanted. We were supposed to make them happy. I didn’t do that though.”
“Did any of the other girls, do you know?” Zane asked.
“Yes. One of the other girls did. One that I know of.”
Independent contractors. Interesting terminology for the oldest profession in the world.
My breath was coming fast and shallow thinking about that sham of a company encouraging Chelsea to keep their clients happy, but somehow I managed to keep from driving over there and beating the shit out of whoever ran that place.
The only thing keeping me sane was Chelsea saying she hadn’t made anyone happy in that particular way.
My possessive side, the part that vividly remembered being inside her not even an hour ago, chose to believe she was telling the truth.
“Where did this party take place?” I managed to ask and keep my voice even as I did.
“A yacht. They drove us girls to a dock in Maryland. The men were already on board. The boat brought us to an island. I don’t know where we were, or how big it was, or even if there were others on the island with us.”
“Do you know what time you left here and what time you docked?” Zane asked, no doubt trying to figure out the location of this island by how long it took to get there.
“We sailed around for a few hours and then docked after dark. I don’t know what time. I don’t wear a watch and they told us to leave our cell phones at the office. We had to put them in a box and they locked them up, for safekeeping they said. I gave them my personal cell but I hid my work cell.”
Good girl. I nearly cheered for her quick thinking.
“What was on the island?” Zane asked. “Describe it.”
“There was a minivan waiting at the dock. We were shuttled to this private compound. Like I said, it was dark and I was in the way back, so I didn’t see much of anything. Just a deserted road.”
“What was the compound like?” Zane pushed for details.
“Metal gates. High stone walls. Guards. Guard dogs. I saw nothing but the garden and the inside of the house.”
“Tell me about the guards. Black? White? Hispanic? What language did they speak?”
“They were all ethnicities. Pretty much an even mix. I didn’t hear them speak. But they had really big guns. Bigger than yours.”
Zane laughed. “Doubtful. You just haven’t seen the really big ones yet. Moving on. Tell me about the island. What kind of foliage did you see? Animals? Climate?”
“There were palm trees and regular trees too. Lots of flowers. Really loud birds and those little lizard things shooting around everywhere. It was hot outside. And humid. And it rained once, just for a short while but a real downpour. Otherwise it was sunny.”
I knew what Zane was doing. Chelsea might not know exactly where she’d been taken, but everything she’d experienced could offer a clue as to the location. I’d seen him punch a few keys on his computer. No doubt he was recording her account and one of the GAPS guys would be triangulating possible locations shortly.
Not that it mattered that much where she’d been now that we had her back. The bigger question was why she was brought there—besides to make the client happy.
“Who was there with you?” Zane asked. This, more than the location questions, would likely yield the answers we needed.
“There were two other girls besides me. I hadn’t met any of them before. They weren’t from Camelot. A dark-haired girl. A redhead. And me.”
Jesus. It was like they were setting up an ice cream buffet. Something for every taste. Three different flavors. Chocolate. Strawberry. Vanilla.
“And the men?” Zane asked.
“Three. American. Business casual-type clothes. They had luggage. They changed into resort wear once we were there. They didn’t tell us exactly who they were. We were told their first names only. But one of the girls there with me said she thought she recognized one of the men. She said he was running for office in one of the midterm elections in the state where she’s from.” Chelsea frowned. “Georgia, maybe? I can’t remember, but she had a crazy thick southern accent so I’m assuming she was from the south.”
There were some very heated midterm elections happening in this country that even I, a citizen of the United Kingdom, knew about. Seats that had belonged to one party for a very long time were suddenly threatened by the opposition.
“Christ,” Zane hissed. “It’s Cambridge Analytica all over again.”
“Looks that way,” I agreed, having made the same comparison myself while filling out that invasive application at the Angel office.
Chelsea frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you watch the news?” Zane asked.
She shrugged. “We don’t have cable TV at the apartment.”
Zane frowned. “Even so, you still must have heard about it. It was a huge scandal involving Facebook and their selling users’ personal data.”
Chelsea wrinkled her nose. “Nobody I know is on Facebook anymore.”
At that, and the frustrated expression on Zane’s face, I had to stifle a laugh so I could explain to her the significance. “Cambridge Analytica has been credited with having their hands in elections all over the world in an attempt to sway the voters. They caught the CEO on hidden camera alluding to them employing attractive women to put political candidates in compromising positions so it can be used against them in the election.”
Her eyes widened. “So they were probably recording us to get something they could use against that guy who’s running for office?”
“Most likely.” I nodded.
“Mother-fucking-son-of-a-bitch-bastard!” Apparently out of expletives, she added a frustrated growl. “That makes me so mad—” She cut off her ranting when she noticed the smile on Zane’s face.
I could only imagine it was the incongruity of seeing such a beautiful woman, dressed to perfection, cursing like a sailor—or like one of the Real Housewives of New Jersey—that had amused Zane.
This side of Chelsea, her spirit, didn’t amuse me as much as make me want to plunge my cock between those lips and let her use all that angry energy for something we’d both enjoy.
Her confused expression had Zane tempering his laughter and saying, “Not that I don’t enjoy your spirit, and I definitely share your anger, but I have a few more questions.”
She drew in and blew out a breath—I inevitably watched her chest rise and fall as she did—then she said, “All right. I’m better.”
“Good. When did you get back from the island?”
It was an excellent question. I might have added an additional one though. Why hadn’t she bloody contacted anyone when she got back since she had her work cell?
“We got back today. They brought us directly to a hotel suite to get dressed for the embassy event. There was a female supervisor from Angel waiting there with hair stylists and clothes.”
And that answered my unspoken question. They weren’t left alone long enough to call anyone unobserved.
That fact probably didn’t bother anyone except Chelsea. To the other women, this past week was one big adventure. Yachts. Stylists. Parties. Why would they worry?
But Chelsea was experienced enough from her time with GAPS to realize there was something shady going on.
Zane nodded, appearing to be out of questions for the moment.
I still had one. “While at the embassy, you turned on the cell you had hidden.”
“Yes.” She tipped her head, then her eyes widened. “Is that how you found me?”
Zane nodded. “Yup. I wish you’d done it earlier though.”
“I turned it on once on the island and had no service at all. I didn’t try again. I didn’t know if they had any kind of cell signal tr
acker thingy while we were on the island or in the hotel, but I figured in the embassy there would be other people with phones so it was safe to turn it on. I finally got away from anyone watching me and I texted Trina to tell her where I was. I didn’t like the way they kept shuttling us from place to place, for days when I’d thought it was going to be for just one night. And that I still hadn’t heard anything about where Morgan was . . .” She shook her head. “I was starting to get really concerned that I was going to disappear too.”
I blew out a breath as fear over what could have happened gripped me again. “Rightly so.”
My fingers itched to touch her. Not in a sexual way. More to reassure myself that she was not only here and safe, but also that she was going to stay that way.
“Wait.” Chelsea’s gaze whipped from me to Zane. “What if Morgan figured out they were up to something? What if she recognized a diplomat or candidate and said something to someone? They might have done something to her because of it.”
It was a possibility. I glanced at Zane and our gazes met. I didn’t know what to tell Chelsea. I didn’t want to lie but I wasn’t sure what she’d do if I told her the truth. The possibility was good she’d go off on her own again and try to find her friend.
“We’ll find her,” Zane said, giving her the assurance she needed.
Chelsea raised her eyes to look at her boss. “I don’t want you to use any more of GAPS’s resources than you already have on account of me or Morgan. But this shit sounds serious. Like FBI, Homeland Security, CIA kind of serious.”
“I agree. It is serious. And that’s good news. Because while GAPS or possibly one of those organizations you mentioned is looking into Angel Escorts—and trust me, after I make a couple of calls someone will be looking into this—there’s a good chance we’ll find something that could lead us to Morgan.”
She nodded. “I hope so.”
So did I.
ELEVEN
“You didn’t have to drive me home.” Chelsea glanced at me from the passenger seat.
“Actually, I think I did since we dragged you out of there with not much more than the clothes on your back. You’ve got no money, no ID, no keys.”
