by Samson Weld
SUMMARY
A dead girl. A wrongly-accused man in a foreign city. Everyone eventually pays for their sins...
In Montreal on business, Nick Eversull is looking forward to taking advantage of what the city has to offer. Food, nightlife, and French-speaking women who want nothing more than to share his bed.
But his life is upended when the police come to him with devastating news. The escort he was with last night has been savagely murdered. He’s the last person to see her alive. He may just be the number one suspect.
With only two days to clear his name, Nick finds an ally in Anne-Marie whose company he’s auditing. There are people after him. Life-threatening secrets are revealed. Time is running out!
In a mad dash for his life, Nick may just be about to pay for his sins...
Previously published as Innocent Games
~ ~ ~ ~
Lewd Behavior
by Samson Weld
Copyright © 2019
Previously published as Innocent Games
The cover art for this book makes use of licensed stock photography. All photography is for illustrative purposes only and all persons depicted are models.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
About the Author
Chapter 1
It was dark and late. Xavier should have been home by now. He was a small business owner, though, and he knew more than anyone that in order to succeed you couldn’t count your hours on the job.
More annoying was that he wasn’t in the company car. He was in his prized Mercedes. He’d bought it secondhand, but the model hadn’t changed enough for people to notice. Still, he knew that it was a 2014 that had a bit more than a hundred thousand kilometers on the gauge. Even if no one knew, he did. One day soon he would trade up.
And that meant nurturing his business and working whenever he had to. Like tonight at three in the morning. His people weren’t as trustworthy as he’d thought.
He’d had to drive all the way to Dorval because one of his girls hadn’t been picked up. Every time he vowed that he wouldn’t take on clients staying at the airport hotels and every time he ended up caving in. The money was too good to turn down. Besides, competition was fierce when it came to escort services in Montreal.
“What did he tell you?” he said in French to the girl sitting in the passenger seat.
She barely looked up at him. She slouched against the door, toying with her cup of hot chocolate she had begged him to stop for. She was wearing a short black skirt and a pink halter top, but it wasn’t anything too trashy. She seemed like any other college girl ready to go out and party. She did seem exhausted though.
“What?”
“Why didn’t he pick you up?” Xavier said, this time in his native English. “That’s literally the one job he has. He drops you off, waits for your call to make sure everything’s fine, and then he picks you up. Why didn’t he?”
“Forget it…”
“Tell me.”
She took a sip of her hot chocolate before shrugging. “I told him not to bother, that I would take a cab to see my boyfriend in Kirkland. I was gonna give you the money tomorrow. Anyway, I changed my mind.”
Xavier tightened his grip on the steering wheel, controlling his breathing so he wouldn’t lose his temper. He wanted to punch her in the face. What stopped him was that he was using his personal vehicle. There was no way he would spill her beverage in his Mercedes. Christ, he didn’t know why he was allowing her to drink it in the car.
He didn’t have the largest escort agency in town, but he was dreaming big. Come to think of it, this had to be the most honest work he’d ever had. He’d done some crazy shit growing up, had almost landed in jail a few times. He was no choir boy, but he hadn’t killed anyone. And he wouldn’t if things didn’t escalate further than this.
Driving downtown didn’t put him in a better mood. The roads had more potholes than Beirut. It was a national joke, everybody knew it and no one did anything about it. He cringed at what it did to his car’s suspension.
The authorities kept saying that they couldn’t fix the potholes, that they were caused by climate. The rough winters made the pavement crack and erode. That was hilarious because if you travelled an hour west to Ontario or an hour south across the border into the United States, they had the same winter conditions and—surprise—their roads were as smooth as a virgin’s ass.
Bunch of lying, incompetent politicians…
At least the celebrations for the three hundred and seventy fifth anniversary of Montreal’s founding were winding down. While the tourist boom had been good for business, Xavier was sick and tired of the special events, the unexpected road closures, and increased security. The city was thankfully lenient when it came to prostitution, but more exposure meant more pressure for people like him. He had to be careful.
“Are we there yet?” the girl said, her eyes closed.
He glanced at her. She didn’t look tired. She was stoned. That wasn’t out of the ordinary. Some of the bigger agencies insisted on their girls being clean and straight-edge. He couldn’t afford that luxury. Not now anyway.
His whole stance on murder changed as he got on Hutchison Street.
On the sidewalk was someone he recognized. Marcel Rivest, that deadbeat slimeball! Xavier stomped on the brakes, for once not thinking about his precious Mercedes, and pulled swiftly to the curb.
Hot chocolate spilled over his girl and that woke her up. “Xavier, what the fuck?! Why did you do that?”
She had spoken the first part in English and the second part in French. That was what Montreal was all about, come to think of it. Francophones thought there was too much English spoken in the city while Anglophones thought the opposite.
A lot of the English-speaking—and wealthy—population had moved to Toronto following the rise in the seventies of the separatist movement and the ensuing and divisive referendum. Decades later, the city had emerged from the ashes as a vibrant multicultural hub. Xavier had always appreciated that this was good for business.
But at the moment, he was looking at that son of a bitch on the sidewalk. He turned off the engine and left the car with his keys, not taking the risk of having his Mercedes stolen.
“Where’s my money?” he shouted.
Marcel Rivest was short, with a potbelly that stretched his stained T-shirt to the point where it was almost see-through. He was disheveled and wide-eyed. Xavier thought this was the perfect
moment to strike.
“Where’s my fucking money?!”
He grabbed the small man by the shoulders and threw him against the wall. Rivest winced as the bricks dug into the back of his head, something that amused Xavier.
“I thought I had until Monday to pay you back, Xavier.”
“You did—last Monday! Is that what I get for doing you a favor? I lend you money and you run away with it? What did you do, lose it at the casino?”
“Don’t hurt me! Don’t hurt me!”
In fact, Xavier was enraged. He wanted to do more than hurt him. He wanted to punish him. Yes, he wanted to kill him. He could practically taste blood. He had never gone that far before, but there was always a first time.
“Please…” Rivest sobbed.
Xavier managed not to squeeze his throat and instead rummaged through the guy’s pants until he found his wallet. There was roughly a hundred dollars in there.
“You’ve been holding out on me, is that it?”
“Take it! Take it all!”
“You bet your ass I’m taking it all. I’m taking the eighty dollars you owe me and keeping the other twenty as interest. Next time you beg for a loan, I’m keeping a finger as collateral.”
He threw the empty wallet on the sidewalk and walked back to the car. The girl was only vaguely interested in what had been happening. Her eyes were closed and she was sipping what was left of her hot chocolate. Good. He didn’t want to be judged right now. All he was trying to do was to be a good businessman.
And sometimes business got rough.
Chapter 2
The condo in midtown Manhattan was wall-to-wall luxury. Perched on the thirty-seventh floor, the corner unit had more glass for exterior wall than any solid substance. The view of New York was breathtaking. It was especially so this early in the morning as the rising sun bathed the city in a soft orange glow.
Even though it was said that this was the city that never slept, it was quiet at this hour. The sounds of car engines and delivery trucks didn’t make it up this high. Best of all, this early no one was stressed enough to honk for no reason.
There wasn’t much furniture in the unit, but whatever there was had been purchased at the most prestigious auctions in town. The den couches were said to have belonged to Jackie Onassis while the end tables had been found in a Bavarian castle after a movie star had bought and remodeled the place.
Nick Eversull didn’t care about the prestige of it all. He had acquired these pieces because he’d liked them. That they went well together and made the apartment gorgeous was only a bonus. He was only thirty-nine and yet had managed to build up his savings, largely in part because of his impressive salary. God bless New York’s financial world, he thought.
That was the last he thought of it. He focused his attention on the young woman currently sharing his bed.
Amber was in her early twenties with soft features and an easy smile. He rolled on top of her, carrying her with him. He never slipped out of her in the process.
“Yes…” she purred.
He looked deeply into her eyes and for a second simply lost himself in how beautiful she was. No wonder she had been featured in both Playboy’s College Girls and Playboy’s Book of Lingerie. Twice.
She noticed his admiring gaze and flashed a quick smile. In her experience, most men only paid cursory attention to her looks before making her body theirs. Nick wasn’t like that. He was interested in the total package: looks, conversation, and sex. Great sex! Without warning, he moved again within her and she had no choice but to throw her head back at the incredible sensation.
“That’s the most stunning you’ve ever looked,” he whispered.
Before she could answer, he crushed his lips against hers and kissed her intensely. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close to her. His hips rolled steadily and she bumped back against him eagerly, the sheets sliding off their bodies. She was close to her release, to his reward…
He moved more rapidly as their passion mounted. She moaned, unable to hide her delight. The bed sheets twisted around them, but neither cared. They were a heap of sweaty flesh undulating against each other, both lovers having the time of their lives.
Her lips parted ever so slightly. “Oh, Nick!”
At once, they tipped over the edge of an unimaginable climax. They clung to one another, kissing fiercely to prolong the afterglow. They remained in each other’s arms for long minutes while they caught their breath.
Still panting, Nick spotted the time on the gilded Cartier alarm clock on the nightstand. It was just after seven. Reality set in.
“Is that the time?” he asked.
Amber turned her head to offer a second opinion. It was indeed getting late.
“I’d better shower.”
The two bodies separated and she left the bed, picking up her discarded clothes and large handbag on the way. She disappeared into the bathroom.
Once he’d removed the condom and wiped himself, Nick slipped into a nearby pair of pants and wandered over to his laptop which rested atop an antique dresser next to the window.
He popped up the lid and opened up a word processing file. Next, he switched on his dictation software and held to his lips a small Bluetooth microphone which was no bigger than a golf pencil.
“As most of you know,” he began, just above a whisper so Amber wouldn’t overhear. “I’m not much of a writer, but here’s my review anyway. I just spent an incredible hour with the lovely Amber, as recommended by many of you on this discussion board.”
The words automatically appeared on the computer screen, appearing magic, like some science fiction movie found the seventies. He pulled a drawer open and transferred a few pairs of underwear to a suitcase which was lying open on a chair close by. He was all about multitasking.
“Without going into specific details as per her request,” he continued. “Let’s just say that her oral skills were exactly like some of you had promised.”
He produced some T-shirts, inspected them, and decided to add them to the suitcase.
“She was a total girlfriend experience for me, although, four hundred dollars an hour is a little steep for my taste. I’m leaving today for Mecca and I’ll report my escapades on Monday. Play safe everyone.”
He set down the microphone and saved the document. He would review the spelling later before uploading the text to the online forum. He turned off the computer.
The shower was running and, getting naked once again, he opted to join Amber. She wasn’t reluctant to the idea, but lack of time kept them from doing more than fooling around. Less than fifteen minutes later, they were all cleaned up.
In the foyer, Nick helped Amber into her jacket. She turned around to face him and offered a grateful and tender kiss.
“Thanks,” she said. “You were amazing.”
She grabbed the envelope from the console table and slipped it into her purse. She didn’t even count the money inside. The way Nick operated—what he considered classy—was to leave the envelope half-open.
This way, she could see the contents when she arrived. It was a promise, a contract. In return, the ladies tended to be classy and didn’t insult their clients by counting the money in front of them as if they were buying a used car.
“It was really nice meeting you, Amber. Thank you for everything.”
Nick held the door open for her and she walked out, kissing him quickly on the way. She was already on his short list of incredible experiences. He made a mental note to book another meeting with her soon. If he could afford Jackie Onassis’s furniture, he shouldn’t balk at the four hundred dollars price tag.
Before the door could be shut again, a man appeared and let himself in. He was taller yet slightly younger than Nick and a suitcase hung at the end of his long arm. There were laugh lines around his eyes which somehow matched his expensive sports coat and flashy gold watch.
“Damn, Nick! Who’s the fox? Future Mrs. Eversull?”
Nick rol
led his eyes at his friend Stanley. “You know me, I don’t do permanence.”
“What did she do, stay the night here?”
“No, just a wake-up call. Fact is, I’ve tried booking her for a month, but that’s the only opening she had.”
“Lucky you, my wife doesn’t even open that often.”
They both laughed.
“It’s nothing, really. Just little innocent games.”
“Yeah, right.”
“You ready to go?”
Stanley shrugged. “I came to pick you up, didn’t I?”
Nick put his suit jacket on, grabbed his suitcase and laptop, and two seconds later both men were out the door.
Although he didn’t know it at the time, there was a good chance Nick would never step foot in this apartment ever again.
Chapter 3
It never ceased to amaze Nick how air travel making you save time was a fallacy. Driving to the airport, going through security, and going through Canadian customs, was actually longer than the one-hour flight between New York City and Montreal. He went there often and much preferred to drive.
He would go up through Harlem, roll past Yonkers, and follow I-87 all the way to the border. It was an especially beautiful drive in the fall as the road went through the Adirondacks with its golden hills and flaming foliage. His roaring BMW had no trouble taking on the steep inclines and the whole journey took seven hours door-to-door, sometimes less if he didn’t notice state troopers.
The one drawback was the lack of amenities. He had learned a long time ago to stay away from coffee during the drive. The one time he had stopped to relieve himself by the side of the road had been one of his few encounters with the New York State Police. These guys weren’t known for their sense of humor.
But today he was here on business, and that meant flying. Business class, sure, but still flying and a huge waste of time as far as he was concerned. It was already past eleven by the time Stanley and him were at the front desk of the Vu3 Hotel. He had stayed at a number of hotels in the city, but this one had become Nick’s favorite, conveniently located downtown and, most of all, discreet.