by Lauren Rowe
The doors open. We’re on her floor. I pick up the duffel and drag her out of the elevator roughly and into the hallway, but we don’t make it more than a few steps before I’m attacking her again. Goddamn this woman. I pin her to the wall again, just outside the elevator, and unbutton her jeans, sliding my hand inside her pants. She cries out as my fingers slide into her pussy. Oh God, she’s so wet. My dick is throbbing mercilessly. I can’t stand this anymore. I’ve got to have her. “You’re evil,” I say, sliding my fingers in and out of her. “You’re so fucking evil.”
She moans loudly as my fingers fuck her furiously.
She begins pawing at the front of my jeans, trying to unbutton my fly.
“I’ve got to have you,” I growl. “Fuck this shit, Kat. Come on.”
“Yes,” she says. “Do it. Come on.”
The nearby elevator dings.
I pull my hand out of her pants and leap back from her, shaking with my arousal, and a small group of forty-something women tumble out of the elevator, laughing hysterically.
“Which way?” I mumble. “I forget your room number.”
She points. “2715.”
I grab her arm and yank her toward her room, my cock throbbing, my nostrils flaring. “No more bullshit. I’m fucking you right now. This is over right now.”
“Why didn’t you stop me?” she asks as I drag her down the hallway.
“Because I didn’t think you were gonna actually go through with it.”
“I thought for sure you were gonna stop me.”
We’ve reached her room. “Gimme your key. I’m fucking you right now.”
She exhales. Something in her eyes has shifted. “No, wait.” She swallows hard. “Why didn’t you stop me?” Her eyes are glistening with obvious hurt. “I thought you wouldn’t be able to stand seeing another man kiss me—even Henn.”
My heart squeezes. She looks authentically hurt.
“Kat,” I say, shocked at the genuine emotion on her face.
“I thought you’d stop me.” She wipes her watering eyes.
Oh, shit. I’ve fucked up here, haven’t I? I’ve really fucked up.
“I just...” I begin, my head reeling. “I thought we were in a... battle to the death... I was... just trying to force your hand.”
Why does she look like she’s about to cry?
Kat wipes her eyes again. “I’m tired of battling to the death, Josh,” she says softly, exhaling. “Or maybe I’m just plain tired.” She motions to her room. “You wanna fuck me, but you don’t wanna take off your mask. Sorry, but I’m not interested.”
I’m speechless.
She exhales a long breath. “I’m just gonna get some sleep tonight. I’m totally sleep deprived.”
“What? No. Let me come in with you.”
“Why? What’s the point?” Her blue eyes have steeled over. “Thanks for walking me to my room.” She turns to swipe her key-card in the lock.
“Kat, wait.” I grab her arm.
She freezes.
My pulse is pounding in my ears. How did we go from attacking each other in the elevator to this? What just happened?
“I’m sorry, Kat,” I say. “I... thought you’d back down. I was just... I didn’t understand. I didn’t know it would hurt your feelings.”
She stares at me, apparently waiting for me to continue.
But I don’t. I don’t know what else to say.
“I think I just need a short break from the game—or maybe I just need a little sleep. Either way, I just wanna crash.”
“Kat, wait,” I say, squeezing her arm gently. “Let me come in. Talk to me.”
She shakes her head. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s in your application? How bad can it really be? I’m clearly not Snow White—I’m sure I’ll understand. What’s the big deal at this point?”
I don’t reply.
“Is it S&M, Josh? Is that what you’re into? Because I wouldn’t care.”
“Just, please. Enough. Stop pushing for this. It’s gonna backfire. Trust me. It’s gonna backfire and we won’t be able to stuff that genie back into the bottle.”
“But if I give in now where would we go from there?” She wipes her eyes again. “I admit I’ve fucked this up. Okay? I’ve taken it too far, created a no-win situation—I admit that.” Her eyes water. “But it is what it is. And now I can’t figure out an endgame besides seeing it through to the bitter end. If I don’t insist on it now, then it’ll always be this big ‘thing’ between us. I’ll always wonder what the hell you’re hiding from me.”
I swallow hard. “It’s not that big a deal, okay? It’s really not. It’s just that I don’t talk about certain things,” I say softly. “I’m not always Happy Josh, okay? I’m not always what I seem. And you reading that application would force me to spill my guts to you in a way... I’m not willing to do.”
She twists her mouth. “I never spill my guts, either, Josh. I hate spilling my guts, believe me. But if I had an application, I’d give it to you,” she says softly. “I really would, Josh. I’d spill my guts to you, if the situation were reversed.”
“Easy for you to say. The situation’s not reversed.”
“But if it were, I’d tell you my secrets.” Her lip is trembling.
I can’t formulate a reply. She’s breaking my heart. I don’t understand what’s happening. I haven’t even kissed this goddamned girl and I feel like she’s got a stranglehold on my fucking heart.
I shake my head, at a loss. I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. She says if she gives in and quits the battle, she’d never trust me? But it works the same way on my end, doesn’t it? If I tuck my dick and balls between my legs and give her what she wants, if I act like a pussy-whipped little puss who can be manipulated into doing puppy tricks for her, where the fuck could we possibly go from there? We’d be doomed.
“I’m not gonna give it to you,” I say evenly. “If you wanna get with me, then get with me. If you don’t, then don’t. That application shouldn’t have anything to do with it, either way.”
Her eyes are unreadable to me. She sighs. “I think maybe we should just concentrate on saving the world for a bit, okay? Things have gotten out of control. That’s my fault, not yours. I’m sorry about that.” Her eyes suddenly flood with tears. “I think we should just take a break on battling to the death for a while—concentrate on saving the world.”
“Kat. Wait. Let me come in. Not to fuck you. Just to be with you. Just to sleep next to you.”
“Josh, we’re obviously two suicide bombers on opposing missions—both of us stubborn as hell. We’re not a good combination.” She opens her door. “Thanks for walking me to my room. I appreciate it.” She slips inside her room, and her voice travels through the gap in the door, just before it closes. “I’m sorry, Josh. Good night.”
Twenty-Six
Kat
“Well, to summarize,” Henn begins, “we’re dealing with some big shit here, fellas. Like, oh my fucking God.” He cracks a huge smile. “Totally awesome.”
We’re all gathered around the table in the early afternoon light of Jonas and Sarah’s suite to hear the latest on what Henn’s uncovered about The Club—much of it, apparently, after Josh and I left the suite last night around 3:00 a.m.
Josh slipped into our meeting after me, looking groggy and bleary-eyed, and took a seat at the table next to me, nodding curtly as he sat down, his face tight and his eyes unreadable.
“Just tell me—were you able to get into The Club’s system?” Jonas asks Henn.
“No, not yet. Wherever it is, it’s buried deep, deep, deep in the web, way deep. But I’m getting close. I’ve got lots of breadcrumbs to follow. I’m hot on their trail, fellas. And very pretty ladies.” He smiles at me and winks at Sarah.
“You should have seen how Henn figures things out,” I say, pointedly not looking at Josh to my left. “He’s a techno-Sherlock Holmes.”
“The man’s a fucking genius,” Josh adds. He puts his right
arm across the back of my chair as he speaks, but I lean forward in my chair to avoid letting his arm cradle my back. Just one touch and I’ll melt. And I don’t feel like melting right now.
Josh exhales with frustration, but I don’t look at him.
“What do we know so far?” Jonas asks.
Henn launches into telling Jonas and Sarah what he (and Josh and I) discovered last night: namely, that The Club’s operations are way bigger than any of us expected.
“What about a member list? Any luck on that?” Sarah asks.
My phone buzzes with an incoming text and I take a quick peek. Shoot. It’s from my boss. This isn’t gonna be good. I’ve been putting her off for days.
I open the message:
“Kat!” my boss writes. “Wow, wow, wow! Just got the signed contract and full retainer from this new client of yours! Holy crap! Biggest up-front retainer we’ve ever landed, by far. I know you’re in meetings all day on your new account (!), but call me ASAP. I want to hear all the details. If you need me to fly to Las Vegas to help you with anything just say the word. Fantastic work! Of course, take as long as you need out there. Just check in occasionally to give me an update so we can manage our workload internally. Keep up the great work! We’ll drink champagne when you get back!”
I keep reading and re-reading the email, not comprehending what my eyes are seeing and feeling like I’ve slipped into some sort of gap in the space-time continuum. Did I take acid and not remember? Have I been roofied? What the hell is she talking about?
I look at Josh, but he’s listening intently to whatever Henn’s saying.
“The identity of that über VIP guy seems like something we’d better nail down,” Henn is saying. “His emails are double encrypted, but I cracked an email from Oksana to Max forwarding one of the über VIP guy’s emails—and the guy said shit like ‘my security personnel will post outside the door.’ He’s got security personnel? And they ‘post’ outside doors? Like, who the fuck says that?”
“A rock star?” Sarah suggests. “Guys like that always have bodyguards.”
“No,” Henn says. “Not based on what I’ve seen.”
“Yeah, I know plenty of rock stars with bodyguards—and they don’t talk like that,” Josh says.
“I’ll keep working on it,” Henn says. “Okay, so are you guys ready for your minds to be officially blown?”
“You mean there’s more?” Sarah asks.
“Oh yeah. The next part is what makes this so much fun.” Henn looks at me. “I figured this next part out right after you left last night.”
I look at the group apologetically. “I finally had to get some sleep.”
“That’s what happens when you don’t subsist on a diet of caffeine and nicotine,” Henn says.
“Did you leave to get some sleep, too?” Jonas asks Josh, flashing him a knowing look.
“Yeah, I couldn’t keep up with Henn, either,” Josh says. “I think I left around the time Kat left.” He glances at me, his eyes full of apology. “Maybe just a little bit later.”
It suddenly hits me like a thunderbolt: Josh. Whatever my boss was just babbling about in her email, it was Josh’s doing.
I ask Henn a question absentmindedly, requesting clarification on something, but my mind is shifting into frenetic overdrive. There’s no doubt in my mind: Josh contacted my boss and requested my personal “PR services” out here in Las Vegas.
“Oh my God,” Josh mumbles in response to something Henn just said, his entire body stiffening next to me. He pulls his hand away from the back of my chair and rubs his eyes like he’s blown away by something. Uh oh. I wasn’t paying attention. What did I just miss?
“What?” I ask, my stomach twisting with dread.
“They’re funding the Ukrainian separatists,” Josh answers, his face draining of color.
I don’t have the faintest idea what the hell that means.
“Which means Oksana’s funding Putin through the back door,” Jonas adds, as if that would make things clearer for me.
But it doesn’t. Ukrainian separatists? Putin? Who’s Putin? That sounds familiar, but I forget. Wait, isn’t he that Russian guy? Obviously, I just missed something major when my brain was fixated on my boss’ email.
“You guys, break it down for me,” I say. “Sorry.”
“Okay, back in the day, there was the U.S.S.R., right?” Jonas says. “Then it got broken up into all these pieces—Russia and Ukraine and the Baltic states. Well, now Putin wants to put all the pieces of mother Russia back together again, to resurrect the former empire—and he wants the diamond of his new Soviet Union to be Ukraine.”
“And is Ukraine down with that plan?” I ask, wishing I’d paid more attention in my political science class in college. I honestly don’t even know exactly where Ukraine is, to be honest.
“No, not the official government,” Jonas says. “But there’s a faction within Ukraine—the separatists—and they want to separate from their government and go along with Putin’s reunification plan. So the separatists have waged armed conflicts with their own government, funded by the Russians.”
Jonas and Josh exchange a look of extreme anxiety.
“Holy shitballs,” I say softly, even though, honestly, I’m still not one hundred percent sure I get it. Whatever’s happening, though, it’s obviously holy-shitballs-worthy.
“Yeah, most definitely,” Henn says. “Well said.”
“We’ve got to find out who Mr. Bigwig VIP is,” Jonas blurts. “We need to know who all the heavy hitters are. You said congressmen are involved in this shit, right?”
“Yup,” Henn says.
“That could be really, really bad,” Josh says, his body stiff and tight next to mine. His face looks ashen.
“Seriously. ‘Oh, hi, constituents. Please re-elect me,’” Henn says, putting on his best congressman-voice. “‘I added more police to our streets, got a library built, and voted to increase the minimum wage. Oh, and I paid a whole bunch of money to a Ukrainian prostitution and weapons ring to fund the reunification of the Soviet Union. Can I count on your vote during the next election?’”
Oooooh, I totally get it now. Leave it to Henn to explain things in terms I can easily understand. Ooph. Holy shitballs, indeed. This is a big deal.
“This is too big for us to handle on our own,” Sarah declares emphatically. “We’ve got to hand this over to the FBI.” Her eyes widen. “Or the CIA? I don’t even know which one. I mean, jeez, I’m a first-year law student at U Dub.” She shakes her head. “This is like, a matter of international significance—and that’s not even an exaggeration.”
Henn talks for a while, explaining how he plans to obtain the bad guys’ passwords and banking information, all with the goal of uncovering data we can use to convince the good guys to take immediate action—and, suddenly, I feel like a round hole in a square peg. What the heckity-heck am I doing here? How can I possibly help with all this? I know what value everyone else in this room brings to our Ocean’s Eleven crew, but what on earth is my role?
When Henn finishes talking, Sarah leaps out of her chair like a woman possessed.
“Henn, I’m your new best friend,” she says.
She explains she’s gonna write a kick-ass report with supporting documentation which we’ll submit to the authorities and we all agree enthusiastically with her plan.
“Kat,” Sarah says sharply at the end of her passionate speech, her eyes like lasers.
“Yes, ma’am.” My heart’s beating out of my chest. My brain is in overload. I keep thinking “Holy shitballs” on an endless loop.
“For each and every criminal count, I’m gonna need a piece of supporting evidence—something to show them we’re not making this stuff up,” Sarah says, looking at me. She’s in full ass-kicking mode now. “I’ll tell you exactly what kind of thing I’m looking for, and then you’ll go digging through whatever Henn’s been able to find so far to get it for me. You’ll be my research assistant.”
“I can do that,” I say, my stomach churning. But what I’m thinking is, “Holy shitballs.”
“That’s good,” Jonas says. “And Josh and I will powwow and figure out our best strategy for the hand-off. I agree—we’re going to have to turn this over to someone—but to whom? That’s the question. If we put it in the wrong hands, we might just buy ourselves an even bigger enemy than The Club.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, the hairs on my arms standing up.
“It sounds like there are plenty of powerful people on that client list who wouldn’t want this scandal to see the light of day,” Jonas says.
Josh puts his arm around my shoulders and I lean into him, shaking. This whole thing is making my head spin and my stomach churn. “Holy shitballs,” I say under my breath.
“It’s all gonna come down to the money,” Jonas says. “Money talks.”
“I agree,” Josh says, pulling me into him.
“Henn, that’s top priority, okay?” Jonas says. “Track the money. Get access to it.”
“Roger,” Henn says. “Shouldn’t take me more than a couple days.”
“We can do this,” Sarah says. “Look at the talent in this room. We don’t need no stinkin’ George Clooney and Brad Pitt and Matt Damon.”
“Yeah, but I sure wish we had that Chinese acrobat guy,” Henn says. “He was cool.”
Finally, someone in this room who speaks my freaking language.
“The one they stuffed into the little box?” I ask. “I loved him.”
Henn beams a smile at me that instantly calms my raging nerves. “Yeah, he was rad.”
“Yen. Wasn’t that his name?”
“Oh yeah. Good memory, Kat.” He taps his temple. “Brains and beauty.”
I return his beaming smile. Thank God for Henny.
“Hey, guys, sorry to interrupt your profound musings, but I’m kind of getting tunnel vision here,” Sarah says. “There’s a lot to do and I wanna get started right away.”
“Sure thing,” I say (even though I’m thinking “holy shitballs”). “Whatever you need, boss.”
“Hey, Sarah,” Henn says. “One more thing. What do you wanna do about Dr. Evil’s text to you?”