I pushed away that image. I knew he could kiss. I wanted more of that. I wasn’t in J’s Vermont house, but I was still a prisoner. How far did I want to push this? The answer was pretty damned far. “How fucked up are you?”
The taxi driver took a hard left, and we were suddenly on an even bumpier street. Trace smiled at me. “Just as fucked up as I have to be. How fucked up are you?”
I leaned over and kissed him. Maybe it was the drugs addling my brain. Maybe I was too tired to care. Maybe I just really liked sex and needed to admit that I was probably an addict. Whatever. I didn’t care. I pulled back to stare at his dark eyes. Trace, the man who always wore black, with his all-seeing glare and his nasty words, stared back at me like he was desperate for air and I was oxygen.
“Just about that fucked up. I might have sex with you, Trace.” I said his name, liking how it was to say it to him. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t run away in the middle of the night.”
He shook his head. “You won’t. But if you do, know there is nowhere you can go that I won’t find you. You’re mine.”
“For the next three days? Or is it two now?”
He held up three fingers. “They start now.”
“Great. Did you bring me to the Caribbean so you could fuck me without the others being around?”
T shook his head slowly. “No, but it’s a side benefit for sure.”
Chapter 8
The taxi eventually stopped at a small hotel. Trace got out and offered me his hand. I took it and let him help me down to the ground from the open aired vehicle. The sun did feel nice. I lifted my head to be warmed by the sun. I supposed I should consider myself lucky. I wasn’t on the ground somewhere with a bag over my head being watched on a video screen in their basement.
We walked together into the lobby, and T checked us in. I could start screaming at any time. I was sure at least some stranger in the lobby would help me. There had to be one person who worked here or was on vacation who would take pity on me.
And then what…
I’d get away. To go home to my father? To be captured again? To be mistreated the next time? Oh, I could rationalize why I stayed quiet until I was blue in the face. The truth was I remained quiet because I just did. I wanted to see what was going to happen next, why we were here, and what we were doing. I wanted to have sex with Trace.
Of course, I could probably find a really good vibrator and get that job done, too. Sex was pretty disappointing most of the time. T would be fine followed by a hot shower to wash away my disappointment.
“Everly.” He held out his hand, and I took it.
If he was surprised I didn’t make a scene in the lobby, he didn’t say anything. The bellboy had my bag, and T handed him some money before we got in the elevator. “I thought you were a teacher. And that The Alliance didn’t draw attention to themselves.”
“I am, and is there something I’ve done that makes you think I’ve drawn attention to myself?”
I shrugged. “The knocked out girl in the taxi.”
“You had a pill and a drink on the airplane. A lot of people show up in the Caribbean half out of their minds.”
I supposed he had a point. “What are we here for you to teach?”
“Well, specifically we’re here for you to shower and change your clothes. Then we’ll get to what we’re doing here.”
He opened the door to the room, and we walked in. Like the island itself, everything was bathed in pink. The windows were open and a breeze off the ocean flowed into the room. He pointed at the bathroom. I didn’t have time to admire my surroundings, apparently.
“When you come out, your clothes will be here. Change into whatever you brought that looks like an interview outfit. Don’t be long about it.”
I shook my head. “Always rushing me around. Am I getting interviewed? What’s the position? Am I going to be locked up so you can watch me tortured?”
He did not smile at my jab. “I hope not. People don’t come out of there alive. I’d hate to see your light go out like that.”
On that disturbing note, I left him there and went into the bathroom to do as he said. I scrubbed the grime off my body. Why was I so okay with all of this? Maybe I wasn’t. Maybe I was two seconds away from having a huge mental breakdown. I got under the hot water. My body was edgy. Maybe the drugs.
I washed myself quickly. If I’d been alone, I might have given myself a fast orgasm. But for some reason I didn’t. I didn’t like the idea of Trace accidently hearing me, which was stupid because I really did want him to give me an orgasm, which meant that he was going to hear me come. Okay, the truth was that I wanted him to do it. Not my own fingers.
Could he? It was few and far between men who could get the job done. Maybe I just had my standards too high. Maybe most women just didn’t…
I finished up as quickly as I could, knowing that for the rest of the day I would smell like this different shampoo and the hotel soap. They were both slightly coconut-y. I turned off the water and dried off.
There was a blow dryer in a bag on the counter. The robe was soft. I tried to focus on those small things. The humidity in the air made my hair take longer to dry, but I stayed with it until I had it completely straight. Wrapped in the soft white robe, I went back into the hotel room.
T was out on the balcony. He leaned over, looking at the ocean. His arms were spread out in front of him while he looked down below. I could see that he’d rolled his black sleeves up until they were at his elbows.
Fuck. He was really hot. Why couldn’t he be an ugly captor? The hard line of his back begged me to walk forward and wrap my robe-clothed body up against him. Of course, I didn’t. We were walking a line together and that would have been far on the other side of it. That was girlfriend, relationship action. It spoke of intimacy, of me noticing that he was tense and wanting to do something about it.
I wasn’t there, and I never would be.
The suitcase I’d brought was open and unpacked. Had T put away my clothes? I went to the closet. Sure enough, everything was hung. Maybe he’d paid the valet to do it. In any case, I grabbed one of my two interview suits and got myself ready to go. It was a black suit, and I paired it with a pink collared shirt I was glad I had. It sort of matched the décor of everything.
As it was too hot for them, I didn’t put on stockings. My shoes were going to pinch if they swelled from the humidity. I hoped we were going to air conditioning.
I walked toward the balcony. T hadn’t moved. He still stared down at the ocean. He must have heard me, but he didn’t turn.
“I’m ready.”
Trace turned slowly. “Nicely done.”
He walked toward me. For a second, I thought he might touch me or pull me to him. I swallowed, anticipation filling me. What was T going to do? Instead, he moved around me back into the bedroom where he grabbed his own jacket. “We’re both going to sweat if we go open air again so I’m going to ask them for a closed door ride.”
I sighed. “Trace, can you tell me where we’re going?”
“I was just going to.” He unrolled his sleeves, which was disappointing. I liked him like that… Trace was handsome but remote. That made him seem human.
I waited, and finally he spoke again. “The man we’re going to be going to see is what I would call an asset. He’s not Alliance, he doesn’t know anything about it. His name is James Robert Michaels. Heard of him?”
I shook my head. “Should I have?”
“Not necessarily, but it wouldn’t have surprised me if you had. He’s a financier who made all of his money in hedge funds. For the last few years, he’s been trying to figure out what to do with his time and his money. He’s only thirty-five. The idea of retirement seemed wonderful to him. He was tired. Now, he’s bored.”
I had followed that. “Okay.”
“For some time, we have been moving him toward making the decision we want him to make.”
I’d understood that, too. “So you’re manipulatin
g him.”
“Yes. He’s finally at the point where he is about to make the jump. I should be the one to push him over. He and I have been doing this dance for a while. You’re going to help me get him where I need him to go.”
“How am I going to do that?” I knew next to nothing about any of this. How did they want me to tell someone how to spend their money?
“He likes beautiful women. You’re going to sit there as my assistant. Not say much. It’ll be nice and distracting.”
I wasn’t sure I was okay with this. “What are you forcing him to do? Destroy the lives of everyone in a third world country?”
T scowled at me. “Rocket fuel.”
“Rocket fuel?” That was apparently the last thing he was going to say on that subject before he stormed out of the room. I sighed before I followed after him, and when we got into the elevator, I grabbed his arm. “Tell me why you’re doing any of this? I mean, I thought you weren’t technically Alliance anymore.”
He shook his head. “We’re going to be leading this mess soon. I’m not giving up all the work I did making this happen for the last ten years. They don’t care about James Robert Michaels. It was always my project. They never saw the potential in this.”
The elevator opened, and he shook his head, indicating he wanted me to be quiet, so I shut my mouth. I supposed we couldn’t go around just discussing The Alliance everywhere we went. Trace took my hand in his. He’d done that a few times now like it was the most natural thing in the world. I was getting used to it, which was a problem because I was absolutely sure it was a calculated gesture and not just an easy thing between two people who were attracted to each other.
There would be nothing easy between us. Not ever. This whole mess was complicated, and I had to keep my head on straight, or I might very well lose it.
James Robert Michaels lived in a large house overlooking the ocean. My initial thought was that it was twenty degrees colder inside the house than it was outside. I shivered and was suddenly glad for the jacket I’d left on with my interview suit.
We were shown into the living room that had two hundred seventy degree views of the ocean. Whoever had built this spot meant it to impress, and it did that, for certain. I was a prisoner of some men who had been kicked out of The Alliance, and right now I was being held captive in a beautiful home on St. Croix. Not to mention J’s house had been gorgeous in Vermont. I was the most spoiled kidnap victim ever.
“Dr. Trace Hill, I finally got you back to my house. What has it been, two years?”
Trace hugged him back like they were old friends. “Well it isn’t like I haven’t been seeing you. I just haven’t been here.”
I’d obviously not known T long, but this was an incredible shift in personality. Gone was the glaring man in black. He still wore black, but he was really… charming. I actually winced. I didn’t like him like this. Give me the real pissed off deal any day of the week.
This Trace was kind of smarmy. I tried to focus on what I’d learned instead of focusing on him. He was Dr. Trace Hill. I could Google him. He’d told me he was a teacher. The doctor meant he was probably a professor of something. I didn’t get to continue to figure this out because my attention was suddenly needed.
“This is Everly. She’s a college senior, and she’s working with me right now. She doesn’t have a degree in chemistry or aerospace design, but she takes great notes.”
Awareness swarmed over me the second James Robert’s attention rested completely on me. It was like slugs crawling all over my skin.
“Why hello there,” he said, extending his hand. “Welcome. I’m glad to have you here. Good for Trace to have some… company. And such pretty company it is. Sorry, guess I shouldn’t say that in this modern age. I’ve had a couple drinks already today.” He spun on his heel. “You’re both in black. This is St. Croix. Who wears black in St. Croix?”
“Well.” I smiled. “One has to always be ready to go to a funeral.”
Trace snorted and then covered his mouth. He shot me a look that was somehow both amused and warning at the same time.
James Robert shrugged. “I say live as though every day was my last. But now I can’t stop thinking about something you said to me.”
T lifted his eyebrows and loosened his tie. “Something I said? What could I have said?”
I was suddenly grateful T had never manipulated me. Or at least I didn’t think he had. Why would he have bothered? I was stuck doing what he wanted. I knew what Jim-Bob, which was how I was going to think of this asshat from now on, was about to say before he did.
“Rocket fuel.”
I clenched my teeth. This man was retired at thirty-five years young. He was smart, even if he was an asshole, and he was clearly loaded. And T had convinced him somehow to invest in rocket fuel. Did he want to build a bomb launched from space?
I ended up taking a seat. For all that I was supposed to be taking notes, I didn’t have a notepad or tablet. Jim-Bobby—maybe I liked that one better—hadn’t noticed. I didn’t know what justification T even had for being here. Were we on a social call? Why would he have brought his assistant? Why was Trace Hill, the college professor from who knew where, here in St. Croix?
I could sink this whole thing. I could ask. I bet that would throw the plan into pieces. Was I here helping Trace do something that would hurt people?
Jim-Bob—I was sticking with that—brought Trace a drink and turned back to me. “Want one?”
“I’ll have what he’s having.” At least I knew that way the bottle wasn’t poisoned. Although, I doubted that T had brought me all the way here to poison me. I went cold. Was this some kind of… nightmare situation? Were they going to drug me—I knew T did that—and then let Jim-Bob have his way with me?
I jumped to my feet, startling both of them. Trace tilted his head to the side. “All okay?”
“I need some air. Thank you anyway, but I’m not going to have a drink. Headache, I guess.” I didn’t wait for anyone to answer me but ran out the front door. If I kept running, there would be someone to help me. Unlike J’s island. This was a big place in the Caribbean. Fuck The Alliance. I’d count on the sensibility of real people. They’d…
“What freaked you out?” Trace walked toward me. I could hear his footsteps, but I didn’t turn to look at him, my eyes down the bumpy road where I should already be running. Why didn’t I run? What was the matter with me?
I might as well tell him the truth. “I decided the alcohol was poisoned. Or drugged. And you were going to let Jim-Bob rape me.”
He touched my back with his hand. I could feel it, even through the suit material. “I have done many, many bad things in my life. I have never turned a woman over to a man for abuse. I can promise you that.”
I turned toward him. “You’re a wonderful liar. Manipulator.”
“I am.” He didn’t disagree and that was remarkable. “But you have already seen who I am without those lies. I have no need to give you to him. I’d never have done it. Not even to get him to invest in the rocket fuel. And we’re already where I wanted to be.”
“Why does The Alliance want him to invest in rocket fuel? Are you going to use it to hurt someone?”
He pushed my hair off my shoulders. “Going to get to Mars in the next twenty years. We want a specific company to do it. Jim-Bob, great name by the way, will connect well in an accidental meeting with the founder of that startup very soon. Others working on it will fall apart. That’s okay. Don’t feel badly for them. They’re very rich and they’ve done less than reputable things. You found the person who’s going to introduce JB to that person. That’s what you went through the resumes for. He’s going to be hired in the bottom rung of that startup tomorrow. And in five years… he’ll introduce our host to his boss. Not one of them will ever know we did this. Long game. By then, I’ll be one of the five running The Alliance. I’ll know I sent the right people to do the right jobs.”
I swallowed. “He’s an ass. He’s the righ
t people?”
He nodded, slowly. “He’s not going to Mars. He’s funding the fuel.” T tugged me to him, and I gasped. “He’s watching through the window, and he thinks we had a lover’s spat right before we got here. I didn’t mean for you to be the co-ed I was fucking, but I had to improvise. It seemed easier on you than asking you to pretend you were afraid of the ocean.”
“Those were the two choices you came up with? Couldn’t tell him you’d kidnapped and drugged me?”
Trace’s mouth came down on mine, and I wouldn’t pretend I didn’t want it. Fuck, I really did. His mouth was hard, firm, and all consuming. I closed my eyes and gave into the need to touch his face with my fingernails. His body hardened against mine. He wasn’t unmoved by this.
He pulled back. “Fuck. Now I’m going to have a hard on for the rest of this afternoon.”
“Good.”
He pressed his nose down on my hair.
“How much of this is real? How much are you doing for his benefit?”
“Does it matter?” He stroked a hand down the side of my face. “Feels good, right? Anything we do here, Everly, it’s meaningless. You get that, right? We’re only in each other’s life for a very brief period of time. After that you’ll never see or hear from me again. Ever. Don’t go and get romantic.”
I stepped back. “Trust me, T. I know how to fuck and go. A brief minute of petting that leads to a mediocre orgasm when I could do better myself? Yeah, I don’t hold any ridiculous feelings after that.”
He lifted his eyebrows slowly. “Wow.”
“What are we doing here anyway?” He’d killed the mood and not because I thought I was suddenly going to fall in love with him but because his arrogance could take up all the room on the island. “Why does he think we’re here and you need an assistant?”
T ran a hand through his dark hair. “I’m presenting a paper at the hotel. There’s a conference going on.”
“That’s what he thinks?”
Hard Truths (Kiss Her Goodbye Book 1) Page 9
