by H M Thomas
She looked up when he stepped into the doorway, his towel slung low on his narrow hips. Her eyes followed a drop of water as it ran over the hard muscles of his chest and down the ridge of his abs before it disappeared in the light trail of hair behind his towel. After he heard what she had to say, he probably wouldn’t allow her the privilege of ogling him again.
Coming into the room, he sauntered to his dresser. “You thinking about those things you need to tell me?”
She nodded. Here we go. “Do you go to the club often?”
He turned and narrowed his eyes. “You mean do I sleep with girls at the club often?”
“No.” She’d been told he didn’t mess with the girls, and she believed that. “I mean do you go there often? Should I expect to see you there again?”
He slammed the opened drawer of his dresser. “You should never expect to see me there,” he informed her, barely biting back his fury. “Because you’ll never be there again.”
“Yes, I will,” she replied quietly. “I’ll be there at six o’clock tonight. Mr. Carlisle needs me again.”
Finn let out a humorless laugh. “I thought I made it clear last night you were done there. I told you—”
“You told me,” she pushed forward, her quiet voice overriding his anger, “you would train me in the art of whoring.” Her voice cracked before she could finish, and she ground her teeth together to stop her tears. “Do you really think I’m a whore? Is that why you finally slept with me?”
Finn crouched at the side of the bed and took her arms in his hands. “I know you’re not, but I can’t for the life of me figure out why the hell you were in that club.”
She took a deep breath and met his gaze. “Can I trust you?”
His gray eyes darkened as his jaw clenched. “With your life,” he vowed. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
Except love me, she thought bitterly.
She forced her lips to turn up. “Good, because that’s what I’m doing by telling you this.”
He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“I do have a job at the club,” she confided, “but it’s not dancing or hooking.”
He dropped his hands from her arms, bracing himself for her next words.
“I’m there to get information on Carlisle. I’m undercover.”
He jerked away as if she’d struck him, before he rose and moved back to the dresser. For a moment, only the sound of his ragged breaths filled the room. Finally, he turned back to her. “You’re a fucking cop?”
She let her silence serve as answer.
“Jesus, Gretchen. What the fuck?” He turned away again, tunneling his hands through his hair. “Brock said you were a lawyer.”
She let her family believe that. “I was recruited out of law school.” Because someone had noticed books and negotiations bored her. She needed action.
His eyes turned to slits. “Recruited? Cops aren’t recruited.”
“No.” She sucked in a deep breath. “But federal agents are.”
Barking out a laugh, he scrubbed his hands over his face before staring at her as if seeing her for the first time. His mouth closed again without a sound. In her chest, her heart pounded with such force her body trembled slightly.
“You can’t do anything halfway, can you? Is this a ‘fuck you’ to your family? Because this isn’t a game, if Carlisle’s men find out what you are.” He muttered something unintelligible under his breath and shook his head. “You’ll wish you were dead.”
She pushed off the bed and stalked toward him. “This has nothing to do with my family. This is my job, and I’m damn good at it. You were inside me before you caught on.”
Grinding his teeth, he glared back at her. He’d likely never forgive her or him for that slip up. “You have to stay away from there.”
“No. You’re the one who has to stay away. Anyone there, anyone I get information on is fair game. I don’t want you in there when my team comes in.”
Betrayal turned his gray eyes navy. He ran a hand over the back of his neck and looked away, before returning his gaze to hers. “You would do that?”
She stepped forward and put her hands on his biceps, holding him in place, trying desperately not to notice the feel of his warm skin against her palms.
“I’d never turn on you,” she vowed. “I’d throw this whole case if it meant saving you. It’s not only up to me. There are others, some I don’t even know about. Whoever they are, they’re not concerned for you. You know how this’ll go down. They’ll raid that place and everyone there will go downtown until they figure out what to charge you with.”
He pulled away without a word. She didn’t follow him, only watched from across the room.
“You’ve never been anything but trouble, you know that?” He shook his head.
“You don’t mean that.” She stepped toward him. The worst of his temper had subsided. “You used to love me, Finnegan James. You adored me.”
He couldn’t deny it. Even if he could never love her the way she wanted him to as an adult, he’d loved her once.
“You’re right,” he conceded. “Then you hit puberty.”
“You mean then I got boobs.” She slid her hands around his waist and pressed the assets in question against him.
He slid a finger along the edge of her towel, dipping between her cleavage. “You did get those, but I don’t want anyone else to see them or touch them. Understood?”
“Like ever.” She pursed her lips, and he rolled his eyes.
“Like at the club.” He turned serious. “Those guys. The stuff they do to girls. You have to find another cover. This is seriously dangerous shit you’re involved in.”
She nodded and pulled away. “Then help me.”
“I’m not a snitch.”
She knew that, and she respected him for it. “Let me stay. I won’t ask you for any information.”
He should tell her to fuck off, he had everything to lose if he helped her. Still, a part of her hoped he cared for her enough to help her see this through.
“Pretend you don’t know. I swear I’d die before I told,” she insisted.
“Fuck.” Squeezing his eyes shut, he fisted his hands on his hips.
Guilt pinched in her gut as she watched him struggle. He was in an impossible situation, and she’d put him there. If he didn’t help her and someone found out, they’d kill her. If he helped, he’d have to turn on the man he worked for, the men he worked with every day. And if someone found out, she wouldn’t be the only one praying for death.
He let out a deep sigh and glared at her. “You promise to follow me? To trust me no matter what I tell you to do?”
Gretchen hesitated. She didn’t trust easily, and she wasn’t great at following the lead of others. She preferred to work undercover solo.
“I know I embarrassed you last night, and I know the things I said hurt you,” he spoke up when she didn’t answer.
Gretchen snorted at the understatement.
“I didn’t know why you were there, and I couldn’t let one of them touch you,” he continued.
She nodded slowly.
“I was being honest when I said I never sleep with any of the girls. So, if I tell them you’re mine, they’ll know I mean it.” He held up his hands as if in surrender before he shrugged. “I can try to keep you safe.”
“Okay,” she agreed, suddenly more afraid for her heart than her safety.
Chapter 6
Gretchen entered the old warehouse and took the stairs to the third floor where they housed her special team of agents. She’d be facing them for the first time since she’d confirmed Finn and Jay Finley were one in the same. Time to see if her acting skills were as good as she thought.
“Hey, Chris.
I was wondering if you’d be in today. How’d last night go?”
She turned to face Neil. Last night had been a dream. She’d made love to Finn on the couch and then again in his bed before she’d fallen asleep wrapped around him. But she couldn’t tell Neil that.
“I think I found an in,” she finally answered. “And I got some things for you to look up.”
There was no one better than Neil when it came to finding information. If there was a secret out there, he uncovered it.
She handed over a piece of paper with different names and dates she’d heard at the club. Reluctantly, she’d added a few things about Jay Finley. “Can you let me know what you find? Send the information to my phone, and I’ll check when I can, unless it’s major.”
Neil nodded and scanned the list before a low whistle escaped him.
“What?” She looked up cautiously, afraid he’d say she had to bring Jay Finley in immediately. If that were the case, she’d probably be searching for a new job.
“Ronnie Sinclair,” Neil answered.
She nodded. “Yeah, I’ve heard a few things about him. Sounds like he’s a pretty hardcore pimp.”
Neil failed to conceal his grin. “She, Gretchen. Ronnie Sinclair’s a woman, and she’s a ruthless bitch. She’d probably eat her own young if God were evil enough to allow her to procreate.”
A woman? Part of Gretchen gave an imaginary high-five to Ronnie Sinclair. From the way she’d heard men talk about her, she was as powerful as Raymond or any of the other men she’d been sent after. Not an easy task in a business where female flesh was often used as currency. But the thought of a woman victimizing other women left Gretchen disgusted.
“What do we have on her?” she asked.
Neil shook his head. “Nothing concrete. Her name’s only recently popped up. Are you sure she runs with Carlisle’s group?”
“From the bits and pieces I gathered.” Truth be told, she’d been too interested in information about Jay Finley to pay much attention to what was said about Ronnie Sinclair. Dammit.
“I’ll see what I can get for you.” Neil held up the list. “You back on tonight?”
She nodded and checked the watch on her wrist. “I better get out of here, so I can go to Lilah’s apartment and get ready.”
“How long could it possibly take to make yourself look easy?” Neil grinned.
“You’d be surprised.” She sighed and watched as he disappeared behind the wall of his cubicle before she made her way back out to her car.
~ ~ ~
Finn sat in the curved booth across from Carlisle, looking over the dance floor and sipping from the glass of Coke in front of him. He rarely drank at the club, it was difficult enough to navigate a world where he had to pretend to be someone else, doing so drunk was a risk he didn’t need, especially with Gretchen involved.
“Your girl should be up shortly.” Carlisle snickered beside him. “I trust the two of you had a nice time last night.”
It took Finn a moment to rein in his anger and muzzle the part of him that wanted to bite off Carlisle’s fucking head. He needed to remember both he and Gretchen had a job to do, and he had to play his part to keep her safe until he could find a way to get her out.
“I did.” Finn shrugged, as if he didn’t care whether Gretchen had enjoyed every orgasm he’d given her.
Carlisle smiled, his fat cheeks jiggling with the movement. “Was she more willing once you got her to your place?”
Finn smiled, though the action sickened him. “I can be persuasive.”
Carlisle chuckled and shook his head. “I wish I had the energy for that. She looks like a fireball. Tell me, what’s her natural hair color?”
Finn stared back at him. Did he know Gretchen was in disguise? Of course, he did. Most of the dancers wore wigs or makeup to hide who they were in their real lives, though Gretchen was the only one Carlisle would have killed for the deception.
Carlisle laughed. “The carpet, son. Did it match the drapes?”
Finn swallowed back the curse bubbling in his throat as he pictured the soft, light-brown curls between Gretchen’s thighs and the way they’d tickled his mouth.
“Couldn’t tell you,” he lied, “she must have a great waxer.”
Carlisle guffawed and slapped the table with his large, fat hand. “Not in my day,” he roared. “In my day, they were called bushes for a reason, you know, but I like that bare look too, it’s so . . . virginal.”
Before Finn had to come up with a suitable reply, the music changed and the DJ announced Lilah’s appearance. Finn’s entire body tensed. This would be the first time he saw Gretchen dance, knowing who she really was. Cheers exploded from the men around him. Clearly they’d seen her and were eager for more. He clenched his jaw, and under the table, his fist was so tight his fingers ached. She shouldn’t be here. He’d walked away from her, denied both of them the pleasure they could find with each other to keep her from this world. Who the hell had thought putting Gretchen Christensen, heir to a fucking hotel fortune, raised in wealth and educated in a damn boarding school, on a pole was a good idea? When he found the bastard, he was going to—
A black stiletto appeared through the parted curtain and all thoughts ceased. Finn told himself not to look up. He didn’t need to watch her dance, but he couldn’t stop himself. His gaze drifted up the sheer black thigh-high stockings that made her legs look even more arousing for the small barrier they would provide from his touch. He stopped at the lace circling her thighs and swallowed, steadying his breaths so he wouldn’t stomp onto the stage and rip her off it.
His attention snagged on the black lace of her boy shorts, and when she turned, he got a full view of her tight ass cheeks peeking out the bottom. She stretched out an arm, and he looked up, past the black lace bra pushing up her already enticing breasts and met her eyes. Her plump lips curved slowly as she took hold of the pole and wrapped her leg around it before she swung in a circle and held herself up, opening her legs in a split as she hung upside down. For the four minutes her song played, he couldn’t look anywhere but at her.
When the music ended, and she slid slowly down the pole, his dick was hard as granite. She disappeared through the curtain with a sultry smile covering her face. She would be the death of him, and any man who dared to touch her.
“She’s exceptional,” Carlisle acknowledged when the stage lights died, and the dance floor filled. “I’m sure her talents could be used in other areas.”
Hell no.
“She’s off limits.” Finn forced his voice to remain calm, though he felt anything but.
“Now, Jay,” Carlisle chastised.
“Don’t.” Finn sat back and sipped his drink. “I don’t ask for much, but it’s been a while since I’ve had steady pussy in my bed, and for now, I plan to have hers.” He glared at the other man. “I won’t tolerate any of your limp-dicked flunkies touching what’s mine.”
Carlisle laughed and lit his cigar. “You know that only makes her more appealing, don’t you?”
“When I’m finished with her you can sell her to the highest bidder,” Finn lied smoothly. “Until then, hands off. Understood?”
Carlisle nodded and blew the smoke of his cigar at the ceiling. “You have my word.” He saluted with his cigar.
Finn lifted his chin. Carlisle’s word didn’t mean shit.
~ ~ ~
Gretchen stepped from behind the stage, scanning the room as she sashayed to the bar, still reeling from her dance. Her adrenaline pumped, her nipples hard and sensitive. She stopped when Finn looked up and caught her eye, motioning her over with a jerk of his head. Her mouth stretched into a grin as she went to him.
“Hello, Lilah.”
Her smile faltered slightly at Carlisle’s greeting, but she bent so he got an excellent view of her cleav
age in the tight black dress she’d pulled on over her lingerie. She planted a kiss on his gelatinous cheek.
“That was quite a performance,” he praised when she pulled away. “Jay was sharing with me how talented you are.”
She ignored the sudden pinch in her stomach at the thought of Finn talking about her like a cheap conquest and instead forced a smile. “I hope he’s not giving away all my secrets.” Finn held out a hand and she went to his side.
Carlisle chuckled and openly admired her as she stood by the table. Finn’s hand ran possessively up her thigh from her smooth stockings to the bare skin under her dress. The immediate warmth between her thighs sent a visible shiver through her.
“Damn sure wish I had the energy to find out your secrets myself.” Carlisle hoisted himself up from the table and waddled away.
Gretchen turned to Finn as his calloused hand reached her ass. “Is that part of the show?” She inclined her head toward his hand. “Or can you really not keep your hands off me?”
Finn slid his hand from under her dress and grabbed her hip, pulling her to his lap. The thick ridge of his shaft pressed against her ass as she settled on top of him.
“Is that real enough for you?” He moved his lips up her neck to the line of her jaw.
“You liked the dance?” She squeezed her thighs together, trying to ease the rising ache in her clit.
“You were so fucking hot.” His hand slid between her legs and started its ascent toward the apex of her thighs.
She arched her hips into his touch, sure if she didn’t have him inside her soon, she’d begin to whimper. “God, Finn.”
He jerked his hand away.
“What?” She sat up, looking around for the act of God that must have occurred to cause him to so quickly stop touching her.
“It’s Jay,” he bit out roughly. “You can at least get my fucking name right.”
She bit her lip to keep away the sting of his words and the sudden stab of tears at her eyes before she nodded. This was part of the game, she’d slipped up and he had to remind her, but it still stung.