"I'm still so confused. What hotel?"
"Look, after dinner, the men will go back to the room they've secured for the evening. It's a private party. Eventually, you'll be required to join in. Tonight is your introduction," Alison said, while Stephanie reapplied her lipstick.
Cate felt the color drain from her face. "What kind of private party?"
"The sex kind, of course," Stephanie said, the “duh” evident in her tone of voice.
"There's going to be a sex party?"
"Yes. And a larger one next weekend. I'm assuming you'll be invited to that one, too."
"And what exactly happens at these parties?"
"Well, tonight there will be some girl on girl, probably some ménage à trois action—but, like I said, you can probably just watch tonight since you're so new. Of course, I'm sure Andrew will expect something in return for that giant steak you ordered for dinner," Stephanie answered, disgust and probably a little jealousy lacing her words.
"What kind of something?"
"You can probably get off just giving him oral sex," Alison chimed in cheerily, as if this was an everyday conversation for her. Of course, it probably was.
The steak Cate had eaten sat heavily in her stomach. She felt like she might be sick, and she knew she was probably turning an atrocious shade of green.
Alison's face fell as she took in Cate's expression. "Ah, now, no need to be scared. You've done it before, right?"
Cate wasn't about to have that conversation with her. "I'm fine. Just surprised. I thought—I mean, I didn't realize—"
"You really bought that crap about not having to have sex with them? Not only will you have to have sex with them, but you’ll also have to have sex with their friends, other escorts, and any other plaything they want to bring along." Stephanie rolled her eyes.
"These are powerful men, honey. They're used to getting their way." Alison pulled out a compact and began powdering her nose.
"You mean they'll force themselves on me?"
"You're an escort. Who do you think is going to believe that you don't want it?"
The grim reality of the danger Cate was in finally settled on her. She had to get out of here.
She walked to the sink and wet a paper towel with cool water. Drenching it, she lightly patted it against her clammy skin. She had been asked when she signed up if she was comfortable with girl on girl. She'd said no. But it looked like it didn't really matter what she was comfortable with once her services were secured.
"What is this party like? I mean, the one next week?"
"You'll be masked. There will be others there—other girls that we're not sure where they come from. You'll be shocked at how many of D.C.'s elite will be there. The sex industry is alive and well in the district," Stephanie said.
"We're talking close to a hundred people. All engaging in some sort of sexual activity," Alison said.
"I'm surprised Andrew is bringing you along so early. He usually chooses the more experienced girls," Stephanie said, disdain rolling off her.
"We better get back," Alison said, and pulled the door to the restroom open. Cate really needed a few more minutes to get herself under control and steel her nerves, but there was no time. She'd have to return with the other two girls.
She approached the table, and with the new information in the back of her mind, suddenly all three men seemed more sinister. Sick. Twisted.
She sank down on the cushy chair, her mojito sitting in front of her. Taking a sip of the minty, alcoholic beverage, Cate wished she could down it to help settle her nerves. But she knew that if she was going to get through this night, she’d need her wits about her.
* * * *
Gabriel sat at the bar in a joint just outside of the rougher parts of D-town. Delia's Place wasn't quite respectable, but it toed the line.
Two fingers of Jameson sat in front of him. His second of the evening. Gabriel didn't allow himself to get drunk—too many people in his life had been brought down by that—but he did love his Jameson. And tonight, he really wished he were the kind to get sloppily drunk.
Thinking back on his "date" with Cate, he confessed to himself that he'd been a real prick. He’d kept bringing up her offense without giving her a chance to explain. He’d kept telling her he didn't want to talk about it, but then would bring it up, only to cut her off when she tried once again to tell him what had happened.
The thing was, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. His cowardly heart couldn't bear it if she'd just left because she couldn't open herself up to feeling something for him. If she'd run away because she’d known how he felt about her—that he was falling in love with her—it would kill him.
His worry for Cate and her date with Andrew was gnawing at his insides. He shouldn't care. God knew she hadn't cared when she'd left him in the middle of the night. But rumor had it that Andrew Haney had some interesting proclivities. And Gabriel didn't want Cate anywhere near him.
That she was, right now, in his presence was the reason for the second tumbler of Jameson. Ethan Brooks sat next to him, his bad-boy good lucks drawing attention from the ladies in the bar. If you could call them ladies. Some of the things the women had offered up for enjoyment would make a porn star blush.
He knew the two of them together were a striking pair. Ethan had played wingman for him many times, and they had always ended the night…satisfied. But tonight, he wasn't interested in seeing what kind of trouble he could get into in the bedroom. Tonight, he didn't need his mind clouded by alcohol. Because if his gut was right, and it nearly always was, Cate would be calling him for a rescue. And for that, he needed a clear head.
"I need to order some food," he said, drawing Ethan's attention away from the busty brunette by the jukebox who was dancing by herself. Ethan sat with his back to the bar, not even trying to be secretive about his wandering eyes.
"The only thing edible here is the wings," he said, not taking his eyes away from the dancing woman.
"Wings it is." He motioned for the bartender to take his order, and then decided he had best take his time with his drink if he wanted to be any use to anyone later on.
"So tell me," Ethan started. He spun back around on his bar stool and clapped Gabriel on the back. "What girl has your panties all in a bunch?"
"I don't wear panties," Gabriel retorted, refusing to rise to the bait. A smug grin broke out across Ethan's face.
"Well, the way you're pining away over here, you could have fooled me."
"I'm not pining. I just—it's complicated."
"Yeah, and that's my cue to stop asking questions. I'm not your shrink."
"I didn't ask you to be, dumbass."
"Whatever it is, I have a feeling it has to do with that girl you were telling Sully about today. The one we're supposed to meet on Sunday. The reporter chick."
Gabriel cringed. He'd really lost his edge if his feelings were so obvious. Damn. The last thing he needed was Isabel picking around inside his head, and if Ethan had noticed, he was damn sure that Isabel had, too.
"Did Isabel put you up to this?"
"Nah. Well, a little. She's worried about you. Told me to see what I could get out of you. But you know I'm not down for that crap." Ethan's Texas twang drew out the words, making one-syllable words sound more like two. "Anyway, what gives?"
"We dated, five years ago. For only about a week, but, well, it was an intense week."
"Ah, the one that got away."
"More like the one that ran away in the middle of the night without an effing word."
"That's harsh, man. Did you ever find out what happened?"
"I wouldn't take her calls. She tried to call me for days afterwards. Finally, I got tired of seeing her name pop up on my phone, so I changed my number."
"You really are a dumbass."
"Thanks."
"No, seriously. You have no clue what she could have wanted. Maybe her parents died or something like that."
"I checked. No deaths. No emergencies. My c
olonel said it was the next big story. And I didn't even warrant a 'see ya later.'"
"Dude, you should at least let her explain."
Gabriel grunted in reply. How did he tell his friend and teammate that he was too chicken to find out? It had been programmed into his head from as early as he could remember that he was unlovable. That no one wanted him. That he was a burden.
His mother had beaten those words into his brain, figuratively and quite literally. Until one day, she’d taken it upon herself to end his miserable life, as she called it. Too expensive to feed. Too dumb and stupid to make her any money. What good was he? What had happened next was the stuff nightmares were made of.
Gabriel shook away the dark thoughts. He knew Isabel would have a field day inside his head if he'd let her take a little tour. But he couldn't. Sully might fire his ass if he found out just how screwed up Gabriel really was.
"Look, man, it's obvious she's getting to you. If I can tell and Isabel can tell, you better bet your ass Sully's going to be able to tell. If you want to finish this case, you need to make things right with the girl."
Ethan was right. He needed to get past his issues with Cate. Letting his emotions rule would only get someone killed. The thought of that someone being Cate hit him like a punch to the gut.
"I'll figure it out," he said, just as the wings were set down before him. He took a drumstick in his hand and bit into the crisp skin, the tang of buffalo sauce setting his mouth on fire. He welcomed the burn.
Chapter 8
Cate sat in the car with Andrew, her nerves making her legs bounce up and down. Andrew must have been irritated by the action because he reached over and pushed down on her legs with his hand, stilling their up-and-down motion. Once he had his hand there, he must have decided he liked it there, because he'd yet to remove it.
They pulled into a parking garage next to one of the swankiest hotels in the city. Cate knew that a suite there cost about three thousand dollars. If the hotel knew what kind of activities were going on in that room, they'd be appalled.
Or maybe they wouldn't. Was it possible that people knew this kind of thing happened? She was a journalist, so it wasn't like she was oblivious to the seedier sides of life. It's just that the three men that she’d dined with tonight seemed so normal. Egotistical and arrogant, maybe. But still normal, upstanding citizens who were supposed to be working for the good people of America.
Secretary of State, Charles Kingston had once been in the military. He'd made his way through several administrations, one of the top names in Washington and in the country . Michael Sutter was another southern senator, like Andrew, known for his stances on marriage and family. She knew that Michael was married. She wasn't sure about Charles.
Andrew took her in through a side entrance, taking a private elevator that required a key card to the top floor. They were let out into a beautiful foyer of a very expensive suite. It had an old-world charm. A plush, gold, semi-circle couch sat in the middle of the room, bordered on each side by tufted burgundy chairs. A dark mahogany coffee table rested in front of the couch, with a bowl of lemons on top as a cheery and colorful touch. It looked so traditional. So—normal.
What was not normal was the man sitting in the tufted chair, his pants down around his ankles, and Stephanie on top of him, her skirt pulled up to her waist.
The heat of a blush crept up Cate's neck. She was mortified. Right in the middle of everything, as if they couldn't be bothered to make it to a bed, they were going at it like rabbits.
On the other chair in the room sat Charles. Alison knelt in front of him, her head positioned between his knees. Cate looked away. She couldn't believe this was happening to her. Was this what she was expected to do?
It was too much.
She had to find a way out.
Andrew's hand slipped from her waist to her backside. She stiffened, knowing what he was going to expect. He pulled her back against him, and she could feel his arousal. She cringed, her stomach churning. Her breaths were coming hard and fast, and she felt dizzy, as if she were about to faint.
"Shhh," he whispered in her ear. His hand circled her waist and inched its way up her ribs to rub underneath her breast.
"Bathroom," she blurted out. Aware of how loud her voice was, and how forcefully she'd said the words, she took a deep breath. "I, um—I'd like to freshen up."
Andrew looked peeved to have his exploration cut short, but she guessed he wasn't ready to scare her to death, so he let her go, motioning towards the bathroom that was off to their right.
She walked towards it, turning to look over her shoulder as she reached the door. The two couples were still going at it. Andrew sat on the couch, watching.
Disgusted, Cate shut the door and locked it. She took out her phone and, with shaking hands, scrolled through her contacts until she landed on Gabriel's name. It rang only once before his sexy voice, with a hint of a Spanish accent, said, "Cate?"
"Gabriel," she whispered. "I need out of here!"
"Where are you?"
She gave him the name of the hotel.
"Ok, I'm on my way. What's going on?" he asked. She could hear the crank of his car engine, which sounded like an absolute beast even through the phone. What kind of car did he drive? She shook her head, clearing her thoughts.
"I got here to the hotel, and the other two couples are already…well, they—um, they're in the sitting room, and they're…"
"Spit it out, Cate," Gabriel growled.
"They're both engaging in sexual relations," she hissed, trying to keep her voice down. "What do I do, Gabriel? I can't. I won't have sex with him."
"Listen to me. You're going to hang up this phone. In a minute, I'll give you a call. I'm about ten minutes away, so you're going to have to fake it for at least five, ok?"
She nodded before she realized he couldn't see her. "Ok."
"I'll tell you there's an emergency. You have a roommate, right?"
"Yes, though I don't even want to know how you know that," she grouched.
She heard a slight chuckle. "I have my ways. Tell him that she's in trouble. He doesn't know that she's out of town right now." Seriously, his knowledge of her life was astounding. "Tell him you have to go. Do you have your car?"
"It's at the restaurant. He made me ride with him to the hotel."
"Ok, that's fine. He's going to offer to take you. Tell him you'll catch an Uber. Do you have the app?"
"I do."
"Ok, when you get off the phone, pull it up. Tell him there's one at the corner, and you'll grab it. Thank him, and then go downstairs and wait for me at the corner. Got it?"
"Got it."
"Ok, be careful. I'll call in three minutes. You can fake it for that long, right?"
"I'll think of something."
She ended the call and wiped her sweaty palms on the towel hanging by the sink. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, noticing her pale color, the dark circles under her eyes, and her drawn expression. She was going to have to do better than that.
She pinched her cheeks to bring in some color, applied a little lip gloss to put some shine back on her lips, and then added a little concealer under her eyes. She plastered on a smile, dialing it back a little when she saw the joker-like expression on her face. That thought made a hysterical giggle bubble up in her throat, but she pushed it down, straightening her shoulders as she opened the bathroom door.
The two couples had switched partners. They were both now on the sofa, the two women were kissing, and the men had their hands all over them. She looked away, noticing that Andrew now sat in one of the tufted chairs. The very same chair that Michael Sutter had been sitting on bare-ass naked. She shivered at the thought and walked towards the other chair.
"Ah-ah-ah," Andrew said, waving his finger at her as if she were a naughty child. He patted his lap, and she made her way over to him, keeping her red clutch in her hand. She sat down on his lap, again noticing that he was still aroused. She wondered if it was painful.
Andrew placed his hand on her knee, slowly sliding it up and under her dress. She stopped it before it reached her panties. Anger entered his eyes, and she smiled down at him coyly. At least, she hoped it was coyly.
"What's the rush, big boy?" she asked. The anger left his eyes, and a predatory gleam replaced it. He moved his hand to slide up the back of her leg. Reaching her butt, he squeezed.
"You have the finest ass," he growled in her ear, his mouth finding her neck and sucking to the point of pain. She knew he'd marked her. Nausea threatened, her stomach gurgling and turning, but she took several deep breaths, trying to stay calm. Surely she just had a minute or two left before Gabriel would call.
"And this hair," he said, as he wrapped his hands around the length of her hair and pulled, jerking her head back. A whimper escaped, and her pain seemed to arouse him further. He forced his mouth over hers, his teeth cutting her upper lip. She could taste the blood mixed with the scotch he'd had after dinner.
His hand slipped around to the front of her leg again, reaching the apex of her thighs, when her phone rang. She stiffened immediately and was very glad she hadn't dropped the clutch. She would never have untangled herself from him if she had. The phone must not have penetrated his lustful haze, though, because Andrew moved from her mouth back to her neck.
"Andrew, I have to take this," she tried. He didn't budge.
"Andrew, I need to take this call," she said again. He moved from her neck down to the top of her breasts.
Enough was enough. "Andrew!" she shouted and pushed his head away. He looked at her then, anger warring with the desire in his eyes.
"What?" he spat.
"I need to take this call," she said. He sighed audibly and motioned for her to answer it.
"Hello?" she said into the phone.
"You ok?" Gabriel's husky voice filled the phone. She prayed that Andrew couldn't overhear him.
"Oh no!" she said.
"Is that oh no for me, or are you faking concern for your roommate?"
"Of course. Yes, I'll be right there. What hospital?"
Castle Investigations Box Set Page 31