Bait: A dark erotic thriller (Hunter & Prey Book 2)

by Barker, Kira

  It was all the easier to make my smile that very special blend of condescending and open that I’d perfected years ago.

  “Oh, no, I work in human relations.”

  My tone had been a little too sharp, making her eyes widen just a fraction, but her cute smile took the hint of annoyance out of her gaze. For just a moment I wondered if there was more to her, but discarded the thought immediately. Sure, she was a bright little cookie—I couldn’t fathom how he’d stand someone truly insipid for just a day, let alone fuck her—but that was all there was to her.

  “I hope I haven’t offended you somehow,” she went on, as if my dismissive looking away hadn’t been plain enough. “I’m just still so out of it. Do you ever feel like you’re losing your mind from how happy you are?”

  Her words cut into me like a knife, but that only made it easier to continue smiling back at her. If she only knew…

  “Let me guess. He proposed? In Paris?”

  Her eyes widened further. “How did you—“ And then reality caught up with her, bringing her back down from her high, if onto the same soft cushions she still seemed to float on. “I forgot, you must have read it in the news. This is still all so new to me. That people recognize me, you know?”

  I didn’t, but then I had made a point out of never being anywhere in the limelight.

  “I wouldn’t know,” I admitted, and added—because I truly was a glutton for punishment—“Congratulations.”

  That was about as far as the raging bitch inside of me would let me go. Then I had to turn away and make my exit. There was only so much lying and acting I could do before I would grab her head and smash her pretty face into the marble counter.

  “Thank you!” she called after me, because really, Daliah Jones must have been the first, and only, nice woman that the bastard had managed to make fall for him. Exhaling slowly, I ignored her as I reached for the doorknob. The door swung inward before my fingers could close on it, making me sidestep. I found myself face to face with one of the last people I’d expected to meet tonight—but then the moment my eyes met with Nya’s, I chided myself for being so shortsighted.

  It only took her a split second to take me in and I knew that her I wouldn’t be able to fool. One of Brigitte’s top earners—really, the only competition I’d had for years—she was flawless, as usual, from her black hair to the healthy glow of her dark skin, her sheath dress included, of course. Why seeing her here threw me off-balance for a moment, I couldn’t say, but it made things easier in many ways. I was sure that, five minutes from now, my former madam would be well-informed of my return. As much as surprising Brigitte had been something I’d been looking forward to, in the end, this would likely further my cause.

  I gave Nya the barest of nods—that she returned, just as subtle—and walked around her through the door, not lingering anymore. She was clearly here to work, and it would have been highly unprofessional of me to chat with her—maybe even reveal who and what she was—and while I might be a little rusty, I wasn’t that far off my game. But meeting her here forced me to face again how far off my game I was. Suddenly, those endless seven weeks seemed rushed, barely enough to prepare myself mentally, let alone physically. But therein lay the crux of my dilemma—until I kicked loose the pebble that might very well become the avalanche that would bury me, I couldn’t access all the means needed to pull off my plan.

  And even I could admit that my moment of hesitation was borne of fear and apprehension, not necessarily a real need to prepare better.

  Staying close to the walls, I exited the hallway and ducked around the corner and into the great ballroom where the event was held. I couldn’t even remember what it was about—some fundraiser or other, I was sure. Something I knew he’d attend—and Little Miss Daliah’s presence confirmed that. I grabbed a champagne flute from a waiter’s tray and downed it, forcing my mind to quit fretting.

  The task ahead of me was easy, really, if not quite what Agent Smith had had in mind. It would only take me a few minutes, five at tops. I likely wouldn’t even have to talk much. So why was my hand shaking around the stem of the flute, my throat dry despite the liquid having just run past it?

  Exhaling slowly, I forced my mind to quiet down further. Scanning the people mingling all over the room, I realized that my time for stalling was over. It was only a matter of time until my security detail would find me—after all, what I had chosen to stand out would make me stick out like a sore thumb, too—and I needed to wrap this up before they got a chance to track me down.

  A dream in peach skipped by in my peripheral vision, alerting me to the fact that I didn’t even have to track down my objective—I could just follow Daliah’s path through the mostly dark-clad masses. And, true enough, when she was only about halfway through the room, it was easy to extrapolate her path and find the cluster of people she was aiming for.

  My breath caught in my throat and I felt myself go cold, quickly averting my gaze.

  So this was it. The moment of truth. Agreeing to help Agent Smith accomplish her goal was one thing; actually being able to do so was quite another.

  And as I started weaving my way through the mass of people—spine straight, shoulders pushed back, hips swaying lightly—I felt my confidence return. Suddenly, making eye contact with that man who was eyeing me wasn’t hard anymore. On the contrary, it gave me a little boost. The irritation in that woman’s eyes was a compliment, not a reason to fidget self-consciously. With every step I took, I felt a little more of my former self return, shaking off months of hiding and pretending.

  Ray Moss was the first who noticed me, but then he would. He hadn’t changed at all—but then why should he have? Still the same slightly sleazy smile and superficial demeanor that hid what I gathered was a bright mind that got off on others falling for his pretense. He only looked startled for a second before he beamed that signature grin of his at me that, even months later, still made me want to wash myself repeatedly. But of the people gathered in that cluster, he was the only one I could—maybe—count as my unlikely ally, so it wasn’t hard to give him the smallest, intimate smirk back.

  When you’ve been a whore for long enough, you learn that you don’t just sell your body, but also your soul. And he definitely was buying.

  His wife Alison was next. Unlike her husband, she hadn’t been busy ogling random women’s tits and asses, but his sudden focused attention drew her interest. Her eyes went wide as she recognized me, followed by a muscle jumping in her temple. Was that irritation I saw in her gaze? But it was gone before I could categorize it, replaced by a typical lawyer look of neutrality.

  Daliah I ignored, although I noticed that her eyes briefly flitted to me as well, but then to her I was just the woman she’d just met in the bathroom.

  No, it was the tall, handsome man who was currently talking animatedly above her head who drew my focus. He must have missed Alison’s brief non-reaction because he hadn’t turned to fully face me yet, letting me get a good, long look at him in profile.

  Unlike his companions, he had changed, but almost bleeding out after being stabbed in the side of the neck would do that to anyone. He looked gaunter, harder somehow, the line of his jaw more pronounced than before.

  But after drinking in his features, I felt my mind focus on how he acted around Daliah. That she was only a tool was obvious—she was bait to lure me back to him, or at least out into the open where he could finish what he had started. I knew that he was a good actor—phenomenal even, considering how long he had managed to fool me—but I knew that he had his limits when he wasn’t a hundred percent behind something. I’d exploited that very fact, else I wouldn’t have been here, able to walk toward him, with my heart hammering in my throat. Yet, there was no tension in the lines of his body, and, while somewhat subdued, his smile was a real one, also reaching his eyes. Could it be—actually be—that he had fallen in love with this… this… child?

  I was sure that my mind would have come up with a slew of much less f
avorable designations for the poor girl if given a chance, but just then his head turned and our gazes connected, wiping my mental slate clean. I barely noticed that my body kept walking, my gait still secure, no stumble or hesitation, but I couldn’t exactly claim responsibility for that—although I was insanely glad that I didn’t fall flat on my face.

  It wasn’t just me who was affected like that, no. Clearly, my efforts—hampered by my limited budget as they had been—were paying off. Subtlety had never been my thing, and the bright red fuck-me heels and matching lipstick screamed for attention. Besides that, I’d kept my appearance simple; just black, winged eyeliner, and a white dress that left my shoulders and arms bare and hit my thighs midway. It was sleek and screaming sex, but it was still a white dress—and he’d never seen me in white before. It definitely served its purpose.

  From one second to the next, the civil mask he wore around—day in, day out—dropped away, letting me see what lurked underneath. I’d become very familiar with that during the last days of our acquaintance, and seeing that same hard, intense look in his eyes gave me the creeps—

  And, at the same time, I felt like part of me that had lain dormant, submerged, inactive for all those months since then, finally broke the surface again and drew her first deep, real breath.

  Standing before him, seeing him watch me like that, made me feel alive again.

  Our connection lasted for only a moment, because I forced myself to break contact as I rocked to a halt in front of the cluster of people. Never minding the sudden positive energy coursing through my veins, the survival-instinct-driven part of me still wanted to run. It took the self-control learned from years of pretending to be someone else to keep me rooted in my spot, smiling at the power couple as if I meant it—because when my eyes flitted to him again, I didn’t need to force myself.

  “Alison, Ray, so good to meet you again,” I enthused, then offered only a sidelong glance at the third, very interested party. “Darren.”

  Ray was smirking now, while his wife still seemed on the fence about my presence. The girl was confused, but as no one seemed ready to deliver her from her oblivious state, I didn’t see why that should have fallen to me. And Darren… well, Darren continued to devour me with his eyes as if I was the water to his dehydrated self.

  “Penelope, what a surprise,” Alison said, a hint of a smile appearing on her face.

  “I can imagine,” I agreed with her. “I don’t think anyone here expected to see me again. Ever.” Another glance at Darren wasn’t warranted, but I still added it, just for show. He was still staring back at me, unmoving, not even blinking.

  Proving that she was a top-notch lawyer not just because of the money she brought into the business to start with but because she was observant as hell, Alison’s eyes latched onto my right hand that was wrapped around my clutch—both to hide the occasional involuntary spasm and the fact that I needed to sink my fingers into something I could hold on to for dear life.

  “What happened to your fingers?”

  “Oh, this?” I said, looking down at the scars and crooked bits as if it was nothing. I caught her gaze again, feeling emotion leak out of my face although I tried to keep it there. “You wouldn’t believe the whole story if I told you, trust me.” That part was true. But because I was here for a purpose, I couldn’t leave it at that. “But the short version is, I was in a skiing accident.”

  “A skiing accident?” Alison echoed, sounding that perfect bit of concerned that told me that she didn’t buy my bullshit.

  “As I said, it’s terribly complicated.” I added a light laugh that choked my soul but sounded moderately convincing. “You know how these things go.” Then I flicked my eyes to Darren again, letting my gaze latch onto the scar that was visible above the collar of his shirt. It had healed well—as had to be expected, if it healed at all—but didn’t have a tampered look to it. Not that I had expected him to hide it, but it still gave me immense satisfaction to see it there. Pitching my tone to a light simper, I caught his gaze again. “I see you’ve recovered well from your, what was it? Rafting accident, right?”

  I almost had given up on getting a reaction out of him, but he gave a curt nod, his eyes still aflame. Oh, he really didn’t like me being here, behaving like this. But then I had a very good idea of how and where he wanted me.

  “How is life treating you these days?” Ray questioned when no one else said anything, turning the tension between us up several notches. Only a blind man—or woman—would have been oblivious to it. With his action, Ray was giving me the perfect stage. The smile he got for that was real—something I hadn’t thought possible before all the shit hit the fan. That he seemed terribly amused by my mere presence I didn’t mind.

  “Good, good. I spent some time on vacation. Lazing around on the beach, basking in the sun, enjoying life…”

  The polar opposite of what life had been like for me since I’d last seen these people, but I sounded convincing enough with my simper. Looking back to Darren, I let my lips curve into a teasing smile. “But, you know how it is with us workaholic types. We can only let go for so long. Now that I’m back in the city, I thought I should tell my nearest and dearest about the good news.”

  That got me a momentary sarcastic grin from Alison, reminding me of our conversations. She had absolutely no illusions about my job, and that deeply ingrained sense of realism was something I’d always admired about her.

  “So it is business rather than pleasure that brings you back?” she asked, letting that grin turn back into a jovial smile.

  “I don’t see why there has to be a distinction between the two,” I said, laughing softly. Part of me wanted to glance at Ray, but I respected Alison too much to do that. With Darren, I had fewer reservations there, and the flare of anger in his eyes I got in return was most satisfying.

  “Back to the daily grind it is?” Ray asked, stressing “grind” so much that I felt like rolling my eyes at him, but of course I didn’t. Instead I shrugged.

  “Actually, I think I’ll switch into upper management. You know how it goes—when you’re young, you don’t mind working yourself until you’re sore and worn out, but once you get as old as I am—“

  “You don’t look a day over twenty-five,” Ray replied, snickering. “Or at least parts of you don’t.”

  It didn’t go by me unnoticed that a muscle jumped in Alison’s jaw, but the joke was so bad that I didn’t even deign to respond to it. I was also running out of time, and, quite frankly, my nerves were as taut as steel cables; there was only so much they could take before they’d snap—and standing no more than three feet away from Darren was wearing down my defenses quicker than I could rebuild them.

  “Well, it was charming to see you all again, but I’m afraid I have places to be. I am positively sure that we will run into each other again, very soon.”

  I allowed myself a last look at each of them, my eyes lingering on Darren. He hadn’t said a single word, but then he didn’t need to. The look on his face—in his eyes—spoke volumes, the intensity only increasing when I caught his gaze and held it levelly.

  I’d been afraid that this exact look would make me cringe away and want to run scared, but while part of me wanted to curl up in a corner and scream, I found it surprisingly easy to remain strong and confident in front of him. After all, I didn’t need to play the victim here, caught in the headlights. I’d been the one to almost bring him down, equalizing the playing field between us.

  And I was the one who got away—and continued to elude him as I turned to go and walked toward the front exit, my spine straight, my shoulders relaxed, feeling his eyes like a white-hot laser beam boring into the back of my skull.

  Halfway across the room, I felt my nerves snap like that thick steel cable under too much tension, making it hard not to stumble and fall down onto my knees. But I forced myself to keep walking, not to betray an ounce of my distress in the lines of my body. It was impossible to maintain a pleasant smile so I let my fe
atures even out, not giving a shit about the cold, hard mask that my face turned into. I knew exactly how I looked—it was that very face that stared back at me every time I glanced into a mirror. Eyes hard but lifeless; lips pressed together, not a hint of an alluring curve left. Fifteen years of my life I had devoted to always cultivating an open, approachable look, and a week in Darren’s basement had been enough to destroy all my efforts for good.

  Six months I’d spent running, but the time for hiding was over.

  The bitch is back, baby, and she has come to bring you down.

  Chapter 2

  I somehow made it out of the ballroom and across the sprawling foyer. If my security detail had chosen that moment to accost me, I likely wouldn’t have been able to evade them. But the only one of them that I saw was Michaels where he hovered next to his limousine across the street.

  I ignored him, and instead walked straight up to the other—much less low-cost—black limousine that was waiting for me right at the bottom of the stairs, the valet already holding the door for me.

  “Good evening, Ms. Thompson,” he wished me as he closed the door, and the chauffeur pulled away not a second later. There was no need to tell him where we were going—I’d made sure to arrange everything ahead of time, paying extra for effortless, smooth service. It didn’t go unnoticed that I’d now switched to the other side—for years it had been my job to make sure that my clients felt like everything around them was one oiled machine running at top performance—and as frayed as my nerves were once again, I truly appreciated it.

  I briefly checked my phone, but of course there were no calls. No one had this number except for the one person I had contacted to arrange all this, and there was no need for him to get back to me now that the car had picked me up. It was still a relief to me that—if only for a few minutes—I’d managed to shake my tail. And considering that from now on there would be two parties invested in keeping tabs on me at all times, I cherished my momentary freedom.