Jermy, Marie - Secret Eyes (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Marie Jermy

  Unlike the other employees he’d encountered, even Stuffed Shirt, Lavengro didn’t fit the profile of a caring member of hotel staff, as the polite, friendly, and helpful demeanor were all clearly forced. Why had McNulty employed him?

  His gut bubbled with unease. Something definitely was wrong. Not just with Lavengro, but McNulty, as well. Then Leia’s words when catching vibes from the blackmail photographs sounded in his head.

  “What is it?” he’d asked. “What else can you feel?”

  “I’m not quite sure. It’s strange, but, yes, the professor is the target, but he’s not the target. If that makes sense.”

  Was Leia right that somebody else was the target? But who? Another shape-shifter? Had he been too hasty in discounting the case as Federation business? Scott dismissed both immediately, although the last question, like the unease bubbling in his gut, took longer. Two shape-shifters staying at the hotel at the same time was quite a coincidence. Besides, no other shape-shifters had come forward saying they’d also been blackmailed. No, it had to be another guest.

  “C’mon, Rafferty,” he told himself. “Stop thinking with your cock!”

  That gave him an idea. He left McNulty’s office to find the location of the closed-circuit cameras. Passing the staff locker room, he found the double doors marked “Security” at the very end of the corridor were locked.

  “Open up! Fire department!” Receiving no reply, Scott picked the lock with a paperclip he always carried. Inside, he found himself faced with a row of screens, all showing public areas of the hotel. He further examined every single screen. No hotel rooms, and more importantly, no Liberty Penthouse Suite.

  Baffled, he scratched his head. McNulty had recorded the sexual activities of his guests—he had photographs to prove that—but where, if not there, were they recorded from? It certainly wasn’t McNulty’s office. Actually, thinking about it, McNulty didn’t strike Scott as a sick pervert…

  “Lavengro.”

  Scott went to the staff locker room, located the one belonging to the elevator attendant, and picked the lock. Pay dirt! In a case on the shelf was a laptop and several discs. Taking a seat on a nearby bench, he grinned at just how easy it was to hack into the laptop. Even Archie could do it.

  He clicked open the one program titled “Cameras.” Immediately, the screen split into a dozen separate smaller ones, each showing the location of every camera in the Liberty Penthouse Suite. Curiously, none were sited on the balcony, but bile rose in his throat at the ones in the bathroom.

  He didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to deduce that Lavengro had set the cameras up. But under whose authority? McNulty? The man still didn’t strike him as a pervert, although he supposed outward appearances could be deceptive. Obviously beneath the polite and professional exterior, whether it was genuine or forced, McNulty and Lavengro shared the same sick and criminal persona. Besides, the blackmail letter sent to Rogers had been signed “With compliments of the management.” And McNulty was the sole manager.

  Evidently, since the only hotel room to have cameras was the Liberty Penthouse Suite, Scott inserted one of the discs into the player. So Rogers wasn’t the only target, but anyone who stayed in the suite, because on the screen was a woman he didn’t recognize untangling herself from a man from the bed, who he also didn’t know, and entering the bathroom to use the toilet.

  And oh, holy crap, he realized as he inadvertently turned the volume on, the cameras had microphones. With extreme effort, he shoved his disgust and anger back down his throat to join the unease still bubbling in his gut. The thought of taking one of the antique vases in the suite out onto the balcony and using that as a toilet went someway to appease him.

  Scott glanced at his watch and decided not to play the other discs. It had been twenty minutes since he sounded the fire alarm, so the emergency services would be in attendance, and fire crews were possibly conducting a search of the hotel right now. Time to go. Leaving the laptop and discs exactly as he’d found them and securing the locker, he returned to the CCTV room, locked that door, too, and left via its open fire exit.

  He wandered around to the front of the hotel and joined the throng of people standing on the sidewalk. While he watched a number of firemen entering the hotel, he heard a bark, so he turned around. Archie tugging her forward, Leia stumbled in his direction.

  “It’s okay, Leia, I’ve got you,” he said, enfolding her in his arms and drawing her close. Her lips trembled beneath his.

  “Oh, Scott, I was so worried. The fire alarm went off and—”

  “I know, I was the one who set it off,” he interrupted, grinning slyly.

  “You did what? Why?”

  “Not here. There’s a Starbucks around the corner. We’ll talk there.”

  She nodded. “Archie, follow Scott.”

  Once in the coffee bar, not as crowded as a sardine tin, but close enough, Scott perused the menu. “Leia, they don’t have tea. Would you like a bottle of water, juice, or something?”

  “No, I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

  “But you don’t drink coffee.”

  “There’s always a first time. And besides I think I need something a lot stronger than a ‘bottle of water, juice, or something’.”

  He laughed. “What about you Archie? Water?”

  Two woofs followed by half a dozen more.

  No. Double espresso. I’m in shock.

  Okay, Scott understood the no, but Leia wouldn’t translate the rest. “There’s a couple of empty stools by the window.” He watched Archie deftly lead Leia through the crowd and then turned to the counter and ordered their coffees.

  A minute later, he set two mugs down on the bar and hopped up onto the stool beside her. Archie looked down his doggy nose at him. “What’s with Archie?” he asked, pushing Leia’s mug so it touched her fingers. “I swear he just gave me a dirty look.”

  “Oh, ignore him. He’s just pissed because I refused him a coffee.” She curled her hands around her mug and lifted it to smell the contents. “What is it?”

  “A caramel macchiato. Basically it’s coffee, cream, and caramel sauce. Try it, you’ll like it. It tastes better than taking a shower in it.” She laughed, and he watched as she took a tentative sip. She made an “mmm” sound that was so irresistible he leaned forward and ran his tongue over her lips, lapping up some froth and her remaining lip gloss. He glanced down at Archie, who rolled his eyes and looked away. “There’s something about that lip gloss of yours that I like.”

  Leia poked a stern finger into his chest. “I know exactly what you were doing, Scott. You’ve got your own caramel whatever it is, so leave mine alone.” She took another satisfying swallow and then set the mug down, her soft, sexy smile turning serious. “So why did you set the fire alarm off?”

  “I needed to empty the hotel so I could check out the security offices at the back of the reception area. The fire alarm was the best way to achieve that.”

  “Considering your experiences of 9/11,” she said, lowering her voice, riled that Scott apparently thought it okay to play hoaxes on the emergency services. “I can’t believe you did that. It’s totally wrong to misuse the fire department in that way.”

  Scott let the first part of her comment go. “It’s totally wrong to misuse the…” Incredulous, he trailed off, but then snapped, “What about what those bastards at the hotel are doing? Don’t you think that’s wrong?”

  “Of course I do, but—”

  “No buts, Leia,” he interrupted loudly. “What they’re doing is not only wrong, but immoral and sick. Especially when you take into account they have cameras complete with surround sound in the fucking john!”

  “Keep your voice down, Scott. People are staring.”

  “Let ’em stare!” he growled, taking a long swallow from his mug and not bothering to ask how Leia knew that. Not only could he feel the people staring at his back, but he could see their reflections in the window. He couldn’t give a flying fuck. He took anot
her long swallow and went to wipe his mouth with his thumb, but Leia leaned forward, clasped his face with both hands, and ran her tongue over his lips.

  In a heartbeat, his anger dissolved, and the crotch of his jeans tightened. Tugging her closer, he took possession of her mouth, sweeping his tongue around inside. She tasted as sweet as she smelled. He was just about to tip her off the stool to stand in between his open legs when she pulled back, a somewhat horrified expression on her face.

  “They have cameras where?”

  “In the bathroom. I won’t go into the gory details, only to say you could see and hear everything.” Her hands were now on his thighs, and he covered and gently squeezed her hands with his. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Yes!” she emphatically answered straight away. “Those men are nothing but revolting little sewer rats, and they need to be stopped.”

  “Sewer rats?” He chuckled at her description. “May I suggest that if want to use the toilet in the suite, then you take a vase out onto the balcony and go there. It’s the only place where they don’t have cameras. And Archie? I couldn’t give a damn where you cock your leg.” Archie woofed, and Leia collapsed into a heap of giggles. “Care to share the joke?”

  Between hiccups and some very unladylike snorts, she managed to translate, “He says if he aims right, he might be able to knock out one of those cameras.”

  Scott laughed loudly, earning more stares from people. He still couldn’t give a flying fuck. When they’d finished their coffees and stood to leave, he put a hand over hers and again asked, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Archie answered with one woof, and Leia added, “Are you ready, Mr. Walker?”

  “Ready, willing, and able, Miss Howard.”

  Chapter 7

  Some hours later, Scott was definitely not ready, willing, and able.

  Leia sensed the tension knotting his body as sure as she could smell the rose petals decorating their table, feel the flickering warmth from the candles, and hear the band’s low-key instrumental love songs that made conversation easy.

  Up until entering the à la carte restaurant for their seven o’clock reservation, Scott had been fine and relaxed. He’d complimented her short black velour cocktail dress and told her she looked gorgeous, although he had mourned the fact she wore high heels. The man definitely had a boot fetish. And she in turn had complimented his tux and given him a hard-on when she’d explored his body with slow hands.

  Even during their meal of wild-mushroom-and-herb soup, pan-fried sea bass with citrus-dressed broccoli, and a divine lighter-than-air chocolate mousse, all washed down with a bottle of fine white wine—the name of which she hadn’t caught but was highly recommended by the rapid-talking French maître d’—Scott had been relaxed. However, during his coffee and her tea, he had become edgy. Oh, the humor was still there, but something was definitely troubling him.

  Palm upward, Leia placed a hand on the table. Icy fingers linked with her warm ones. “Do you think Archie’s all right?” she asked, in an attempt to lighten his mood.

  “All right?” A rumble of laughter erupted from Scott. “Leia, my eyes, as well as his, bugged out at the tray of gourmet doggie treats room service provided. He’s fine. When we left, he was sprawled on the sofa in front of that plasma TV, the remote within paw distance. I have no doubts he knows how to use it.”

  “Hmm, I’m sure that’s Anakin’s doing. What was he watching?”

  “Some Jackie Chan movie, I think.”

  “Definitely Anakin’s doing. He’s a karate instructor. Black belt.” She angled her head to one side and unerringly locked eyes with him. “What’s troubling you, Scott? You’re tense.”

  “We’re being watched. Or more specifically you are. By every man in this restaurant.”

  Was that jealousy she heard? He didn’t strike her as the jealous type. He was definitely protective, but never possessive. “But there’s only one man I’m interested in. And he’s sitting opposite.” His icy fingers released hers, and she heard the scraping of a chair.

  “Actually, I’m sitting beside you,” Scott murmured, his coffee-smelling breath tickling her ear. “Have I told you how gorgeous you look tonight?”

  “Yes. But if you want to tell me again.”

  “You look gorgeous.”

  “And all yours,” she murmured huskily, running a finger up and down the muscular thigh brushing hers. His intake of air was swift and shaky.

  “Dance with me, Leia.” His icy hands took hers in his, and, pulling her to her feet, he guided her away from their table. “I know I told you there’s a band, and obviously you can hear them, but I failed to mention the dance floor.”

  Leia hardly heard Scott as he enfolded her in his arms and slowly twirled her around. The masculine heat combined with the woodsy cologne emitting from his body made her forget she had two left feet. The long, rigid length of his cock pressed against her belly had amnesia-inducing properties, too.

  The restaurant may have been full, many eyes watching them, but at the moment in time, they could have been the only two there. Nothing mattered, only the man who held her. Scott Rafferty. The man possessed many alpha attributes, in that he was tough and dangerous, honorable and compassionate, thoughtful and good-humored.

  As Leia attempted to match Scott’s waltzing steps, she added a further characteristic—protector. Not just of her, but of whatever this “Federation” was. Whether by choice or by some sense of duty, it was the one area of his life he refused to give up. He’d shared many things about himself that, maybe apart from Laura, no other woman had even come close to knowing. But he wouldn’t trust her with the “Federation.” And that hurt. Not that she could stay pissed for long, not when his long, rigid cock pressed harder against her belly.

  “Sorry,” Scott murmured. “I’m doing my damnedest to control myself, but that dress of yours is having a detrimental effect on my resistance.”

  “Such a gentleman,” she teased with a pout.

  “Step on my foot again, and I won’t be.”

  Leia promptly choked on her laughter when Scott, in true caveman style, slung her over his shoulder. Her whole body jiggled at his powerful and rapid strides. “Where are you taking me?”

  “To my lair, wench!”

  She again choked on her laughter when she heard elevator doors sliding open and felt Lavengro’s perverted presence. His body tensing at the same time as hers, Scott dropped her to her feet and pressed her against a wall, his body shielding hers.

  “Liberty Penthouse, is it, sir, madam?”

  “Yeah,” Scott growled. That pervert can get off on my ass!

  He’s involved, isn’t he?

  Right up to the shiny collar buttons on his too-tight uniform.

  Revolting little sewer rat! Leia telepathically exclaimed and promptly kissed Scott on the mouth. His lips parted, and she slipped her tongue inside to glide along his. His raw groan thrilled her and made her forget the perverted and staring Lavengro.

  One hand playing with the hair at his nape, she smoothed her other down the front of his tux to palm his long, rigid cock through his pants. Another raw groan accompanied the ping of the elevator arriving at their floor. She reluctantly broke lip-lock. Scott, evidently still in “protector” role, placed one arm around her waist, the other under her knees and lifted her, and exited the elevator in one long stride.

  “Enjoy the rest of your evening, sir, madam.”

  “You, too, revolting little sewer rat!” Leia said on hearing the doors slipping closed. Scott’s rumble of laughter vibrated against her body.

  “You think you can open the door? Key card’s in my inside jacket pocket.”

  She smiled, teasing and soft and sexy. “So what was that small, hard object in your pants then?”

  “Wench!”

  Laughing, she delved into his tux jacket, found and tweaked an aroused male nipple through his shirt, and removed the key card. She felt about the door for the slot.


  “Lower. Lower. That’s it. Oh, yeah, Leia, put it in and turn me on.”

  “Just you wait until I get you inside, caveman. I’ll be the one to chase you around that bed.” A strangled beep told her she’d inserted the card incorrectly. Flipping it over, she tried again, and the door clicked and opened. His fast pace told her he couldn’t wait to be chased around that bed. But she was more concerned about Archie. Why hadn’t he greeted them? “Scott, wait! Where’s Archie?”

  Scott stopped mid-stride. “Leia, you wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”

  “Try me.”

  “On the sofa in doggy dreamland. Does he normally sleep on his back with his legs in the air? You schmuck!” he scolded himself after a beat.

  Leia smiled. “Yes, he does. Anakin told me. Now take me to your lair.” His long strides resumed. She heard and felt him shouldering the door open, and then he just dumped her on the bed. Scott’s hard, muscular body then came down on hers, his hands either side of her head, his legs imprisoning hers, and his mouth covering hers in a kiss that surely steamed every mirror, window, and camera lens.

  She opened her mouth wider and accepted all of him. With broad, bold strokes, his tongue rasped her soft inner flesh, turning her blood into molten lava and making her pussy tighten with sheer want. His hands moved to slip the straps of her dress from off her shoulders, his icy caresses causing her skin to goose bump and ignite at the same time.

  Then his mouth followed in a slow, sensual assault of featherlike kisses and hot tongue swirls. Her nipples hardened into aching peaks and, wanting his mouth on them, she placed her hands on his broad shoulders to urge him lower.

  Scott didn’t comply. “Patience, Leia.”

  “I don’t have any,” she gasped as his teeth nipped her collarbone.

  “I had noticed.” He laughed at her unladylike snort and rolled them over so she lay on him. His hands smoothing down the back of her dress to rest on her ass, he said, “Stand before me.”

  Leia did as Scott asked and stood between his open legs as he sat at the edge of the bed, though with it being round, it was more of a curve. The only sound was their breathing, his slow and relaxed, hers more hitched. Anticipation mushroomed, and her pussy became wet as she felt his hot gaze and an icy finger trailing up the outside of her stocking-clad right leg to the hem of her dress.