by J. Kenner
“Of course,” he says, then tilts his head in dismissal before continuing down the path, chatting with the other guests sunbathing by the pool.
I meet Kerrie’s eyes, and it’s clear that we’re both fighting the urge to laugh. “Come on,” I say. “Let’s go get cleaned up before cocktails.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” she says, falling in step beside me as she pulls on a T-shirt. “Why don’t we go up to the room, get dirty, and then get cleaned up?”
“Dirty, huh?”
She grins, and I laugh.
“Aren’t you a sexy little sinner?”
“Absolutely,” she says. “And you know you like it.”
Chapter Twelve
There’s a lot to be said for lazy, afternoon sex, and I’m feeling relaxed and highly confident about tonight’s mission when we finally roll out of bed to shower and dress for both tonight’s party and tonight’s adventure.
“So we’re clear, right?” I ask, after cranking up the volume on our music. “You’ll be his charming little sidepiece, and Amy and I will head to the study. I can’t imagine he’ll follow but if he does, text me the moment he steps away from you.”
“Will do. And if he insists I come with him, I’ll pretend I’m checking a text from my sister. I’ll text you a heart emoji, so that if he sees it, I can say I was just telling you how much I missed you.”
I nod. “Perfect.”
As we talk, I’ve been taking the device out of its small case. Barely bigger than a business card, the gizmo hooks into a computer by port or Bluetooth. We’ll be using a port, and I have the adaptor already attached to the tiny thing.
Once attached, it goes in and essentially downloads the computer’s equivalent of DNA. Then its counterpart at Noah’s office takes that data, applies a billion to the nth byte of processing power, and does a Watson and Crick number on the information, unraveling that computer DNA strand so that it can then rebuild the guts of the information. How it does that without requiring a password, I have no idea. But Noah assures me it will.
All of which means that if Carrington-Kohl’s proprietary information is in there, we’ll know Rollins’ people stole it, and Brody Carrington can decide what his next move is.
“Hard to believe it’s so simple,” she says after I’ve run through all of that.
I don’t disagree. But since it’s backed by both Noah and the Stark name, I’m confident it’s going to work.
I skim my eyes over her outfit, another low-cut number that accentuates her cleavage and her ass. “And you? How’s your confidence level?”
“I can handle it,” she says. “I can’t say I’m looking forward to being touched by that man, but I can take one for the team. I just hope he doesn’t expect…”
She trails off with a shudder, and I don’t blame her.
“He can expect whatever he wants,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean he gets. You have your secret weapon?”
She grins and nods, then reaches into her cleavage and extracts the tiny bottle she’s tucked into the hidden pocket. It’s Ipecac syrup, and it’s a last resort in case she needs to escape. Because Ipecac induces vomiting, and surely that will destroy even a man like Rollins’ amorous edge.
“Good,” I say. “Don’t hesitate to use it if he pushes too hard.”
“Believe me. I won’t.”
I watch as she takes a deep breath, then nods. “Ready,” she says, and we head down to join the party.
Tonight, things have heated up earlier than before. It’s the last night, after all, and I assume everyone wants to indulge as much as possible. That’s fine with me. It means the liquor’s been flowing for hours, and everyone—Rollins included—is already well lubricated. That can only help our mission.
When we see Rollins, though, my stomach twists into knots. He practically licks his lips as he stares at her tits. And when he follows that class act up with, “Oh, yes, my dear. You’re definitely the cherry on tonight’s sundae,” I consider calling abort and getting the hell out of there.
Kerrie, however, is completely professional. She sidles up to him, smiles, and says, well if you’ve got me, where’s Amy for John?”
Immediately, he signals for her, and she hurries over, looking both submissive and annoyed, which is exactly what we’d rehearsed. “You’re with John tonight, baby,” he says, then turns away in dismissal before she even acknowledges his words.
I meet Amy’s eyes, see the flare of anger, and any lingering doubt as to her loyalty to me and Kerrie flies out the window. She takes my hand, then coos, “I know just the place for us,” before leading me toward a back service hall where I happen to know Rollins’ private office is hidden in a high-security room to which Amy has full access.
Maybe that’s Rollins’ one redeeming quality—he trusts the women he takes into his bed.
I glance back to make sure Rollins isn’t paying attention to us before we duck into the hall. He’s not. How could he be? Every ounce of his attention is focused on Kerrie, including the hand that’s slowly creeping up her thigh. She’s sitting rigid, and I know she hates this. She wants to nail him, and she’s making the sacrifice for the good of our operation, but she hates it.
So do I. Because how can I do this to a woman I love?
Love. Yeah, there’s that word. And it’s true. I do love her. But where the two of us are concerned, I don’t know what that means in the larger context. All I know is that right here, right now, it means that I can’t let her go through with this.
There has to be another way.
“Change of plans,” I say to Amy, who eyes me as if I’m crazy while I lay out the revised approach. Hell, I probably am.
Moments later, Kerrie gapes at me as I hurry across the room, but her stare isn’t as bold and confused as Rollins’. He, however, recovers quickly. “Problem?” he asks.
“More like a proposition.” Amy’s caught up with me, and I meet Kerrie’s eyes, then scratch my chest, right about where the Ipecac would be if I were her.
For a moment she looks confused, but when I turn my attention to Rollins, I realize she gets it. I’m afraid she’s going to argue, but she has to know I have a new plan. I’m not going to sacrifice the mission. I’m just going to save her.
Thankfully, that reality must dawn on her. Because as I start to talk, she surreptitiously takes out the small bottle, opens it, and quickly swallows the contents.
Meanwhile, I’ve moved behind Amy so that my hands are on her breasts. “We want to watch,” I say, amused when Kerrie’s eyes go wide with shock. But it’s not shock on Rollins’ face. It’s excitement.
“Do you?”
I trace Amy’s lower lip with my fingertip until she starts to suck, playing the role we’d quickly discussed. Beside Rollins, I see Kerrie start to retch.
Rollins hasn’t noticed. He’s too intrigued by my proposition. “I like the way you think, Mr. London. Perhaps we should—”
But I don’t know what he was going to suggest, because that’s when Kerrie vomits all over his fine Oriental carpet.
“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I don’t usually drink, and—”
“It’s okay, honey,” Amy says, sliding into maternal mode and helping Kerrie to her feet. Let’s go get you cleaned up.”
The women escape before Rollins manages to gather himself. I study his face, looking for signs that he saw through the charade or that he’s going to take out his frustration on Amy later. But all he does is look at me soberly and say, “Well, if watching is your kink, let’s see who else I can find so we can get you off good and proper.”
Does this guy have his host duties down pat, or what?
He heads out, leaving me alone for a good half hour as he presumably searches out a companion. Fortunately, before he finds the lucky woman to pair with him for my entertainment, Amy returns. I relax immediately, understanding that the girls were able to run the tap and gather the computer DNA.
“I tucked her into bed,” she says as Rollins
returns with a tall, thin blonde. “She’s got a little bit of a fever, so I don’t think it’s alcohol. She really wants you with her.”
I try to look disappointed. “I’ll be back once she falls asleep,” I lie. Then I nod to Amy and head upstairs, my body practically dripping with relief.
I don’t relax until I get into the room, though. The music is playing and there’s a robe over the television. I want to cry out with joy at our success. I want her to tell me exactly how it went down, and from the way her eyes are shining, I know she wants to tell me, too.
Mostly, though I want to pull her close and fuck her until she explodes with long, passionate cries.
But she’s sick, or she’s supposed to be. Which means we can’t have whoever is monitoring the mics and cameras wondering why the sick girl is suddenly having wild sex.
That’s okay, though, I think as I strip and climb into bed with her. “You did great,” I whisper. “How’s your stomach?”
“Getting better.”
“Yeah? I should check.” I slide back the covers and see that she’s wearing only a tank top and tiny panties. I lift up the tank and press a kiss to her belly. “Better?”
She doesn’t actually answer, but I interpret her soft moan of pleasure as a yes.
I lift my head and meet her eyes. “You were amazing,” I say.
“I would have stayed with him,” she whispers, then tangles her fingers in my hair. “But I would have hated it. Thank you so much for rescuing me.”
“I couldn’t stand the thought of him touching you,” I say. “That’s my job. For this weekend at least, I’m the only one who has that privilege.”
“In that case,” she says, “quit talking and start touching.”
I eagerly do as ordered, pulling her roughly to me and closing my mouth over hers. She tastes like sin and strawberries, and I could kiss her all night. Enjoying the softness of her lips, the wild exploration of her tongue against mine. The way our passion ramps up as our kisses mimic sex, growing in need and desire. In wildness and heat.
Soon, though, it’s not enough. I need more. I need all of her. I need to claim her. To have her. I suck on her breast through the tank as my fingers slip down under her panties. She’s hot and slick, and I want more than my fingers inside her. I want all of her. All of us.
Gently, I peel off her panties, but leave on the tank. We still have to be quiet—just in case—but right now I can’t turn back. I have to be inside her.
I meet her eyes, see the way she bites her lower lip, and know that I can’t wait any longer. I ease between her legs, taking it slow and easy, going deeper with each thrust, biting back my own moans of pleasure and covering her mouth when she forgets and starts to cry out.
Our eyes meet, and I see the humor there. And that moment is everything to me. Because this is us, not just sex. It’s friendship and fun and heat and lust, and that drives me harder and harder, until we’re staring into each others eyes, both of us right on the edge.
Then her body tightens around me, and as she bites her lip to keep from crying out, she pulls me over the edge with her, and we tumble off into space together
It’s magic, I think. This thing between us. This intensity. This attraction. This need. Magic, pure and simple.
But the real trick is going to be surviving once we get out into the real world again. Once we walk away from what we’ve rebuilt, and everything we’ve shared between us this weekend disappears into the mist of memory.
Chapter Thirteen
When we return to Austin on Sunday afternoon, we’re greeted with much praise and applause, the bulk of which is aimed at Kerrie in congratulations of her first real undercover operation.
“Modeling doesn’t count,” Gracie tells her, leaning against Cayden as we all gather in Pierce and Jezebel’s backyard garden. “You’re such a natural, it was hardly a stretch. And I wasn’t evil.” A stunning woman, Gracie has made a successful career as a plus-size model.
“Maybe a little evil,” Cayden teases, making Gracie roll her eyes.
“Who’s evil?” Jez asks, joining us with a tray of coffee, wine, cookies, and cheese. “Did Noah call? Did we catch Rollins?” The weekend get together is part of our regular routine, but today is slightly different as we’re waiting to hear back from Noah, with whom we left the device on our way in from town.
“Oh, he’s evil,” Pierce tells her. “We just don’t have the proof yet.” He glances at his watch, then frowns. “It’s only been a few hours.”
Kerrie shrugs as she takes a glass of wine, passing me one, too. I bite back a smile; she knows me well. After our adventure, this just isn’t a coffee kind of afternoon. “When we dropped it off with him,” she says, “Noah told us it could be fast or it might take until tomorrow. Or longer.” She lifts a shoulder. “Lots of factors, I guess.”
“It’s all good,” Leo says. “Gives us more time to just enjoy hanging out, and to celebrate Connor and Kerrie’s safe return from the jaws of hell.” This is his first weekend to chill with us, and when he casually grabs a cookie from the tray, I know he’ll fit right in.
“So how was it?” Jez asks. Glancing sideways toward Pierce. “I’ve never been to a sex party.”
“Nonsense,” he scoffs. “We host private parties pretty much nightly.”
Jez shoots him a scowl, but I can tell she’s fighting a smile.
“You didn’t run across that kind of thing in Hollywood?” Kerrie asks, which makes the jealous green monsters in my belly start hopping. Is that what she’ll get up to when she moves west to work with Del?
Jez’s brows rise. “With my sister’s schedule? Who had time for that? Not that I was ever invited. Or would go. But no. No invitations. No hints. And no regrets.”
“Good,” Pierce says, kissing her forehead.
“I’ve heard of them in the modeling world,” Gracie puts in. “Not really my thing.”
Cayden releases an exaggerated sigh. “Damn,” he says, earning him a shove from his wife-to-be.
We all look to Leo, who holds up his hands and shakes his head. “I take the Fifth,” he says, but I can’t tell whether he’s being serious or pulling our legs.
Soon enough, we shift gears, moving off the topic of work to general weekend chatter. As Pierce tells me about their new sprinkler system—and I remind myself why I prefer condo living—I can’t help but notice that Kerrie and Leo are sitting on the glider, deep in conversation about something.
An unwelcome bolt of jealousy stabs at my gut, and though I try to ignore it, I can still feel those nasty green claws in my gut an hour later when Kerrie flops down next to me on the double chaise lounge. “I saw you with Leo,” I say, the words coming of their own accord even though I know I’m indulging in word vomit. “You two looked cozy.”
She smiles brightly. “He’s a nice guy. I was thinking about what you said. That you thought we were dating.” She lifts a shoulder, looking at me innocently. “I could see that.”
My insides tighten up. “Not much sense starting something if you’re leaving for California.” I swallow. “Are you still planning on going?”
She tilts her head and crosses her arms as she looks down her nose at me. “Gee, Connor, I don’t know. Should I stay here and date Leo? Or should I go take a fabulous job in LA with Delilah?”
“Kay…”
“Don’t even,” she says, lowering her voice so the others can’t hear. “Do not play those games with me.”
My shoulders sag. “I’m sorry. I really don’t mean to.”
Her mouth twists. “I believe you. I get it. And that’s why I have to leave. Besides, there’s no point staying. Leo’s great, but he’s not my guy.”
“How do you know?”
She meets my eyes. “I know,” she says aloud, but her tone says, “You’re an idiot.”
I stand up, suddenly feeling as if I’ve lost my grip on this conversation. “So when are you going to tell them?” I ask. “About LA, I mean.”
She
frowns, then sighs. “What the hell? I guess I should go ahead and tell them now.”
Fifteen minutes later, I’m looking around the garden at a group of shocked faces, Pierce’s most of all. “I’m going to miss you,” he tells his little sister. “We’ve never lived that far apart.”
“Um, Middle East?”
“That was a tour of duty,” he tells her. “Not an address change.”
“Maybe,” she counters. “All I knew was that you were gone.” At ten years younger than Pierce, I know she felt his absence deeply as a kid.
“We’ll miss you,” Jez puts in. “But if you’re leaving us, I’m thrilled you’ll be out there with Del. I miss her. More than that, I worry about her.”
Kerrie waves a dismissive hand. “Worry no more. We’ll have a blast. Girls gone wild in Hollywood.”
Jez just stifles a laugh. It’s Pierce who scowls and says, “How about we nix that idea?”
“Yeah,” I say before I can stop myself. “Why don’t we?”
Kerrie rolls her eyes. “Um, guys? It was a joke. That’s not my thing. Or Del’s.”
“Kidding,” I say, though of course I wasn’t. Jealousy is an ugly mistress. And from the way Cayden is looking at me, I’m certain he knows that something’s up.
“What?” I demand when we’re standing together a few moments later.
For a moment, I think he’s going to say something, but then Kerrie’s phone rings.
She grabs it out of her back pocket, meets my eyes, and smiles.
For a minute or two, she just listens, her grin growing wider and wider. Then she ends the call and looks at all of us. “That was Noah,” she says. “Not only does his gadget work like a charm, but he found the Carrington-Kohl information—and lots of other proprietor corporate files that he doubts were handed over voluntarily.”
In other words, Michael Rollins is going down.
Chapter Fourteen
The Rollins situation is too big for Blackwell-Lyon to handle, which is why the Justice Department took over two weeks ago. Noah, Leo, and I are consulting, but the Feds are on it, with constant surveillance on Rollins as they build the case, and an exit plan for Amy.
