by RG Alexander
Tasha sighed, unable to deny it. Hadn’t she just been thinking the same thing?
“Seamus has already come close to firing her twice due to customer complaints,” he continued. “He said when she shows up for work she has a bad attitude, bruises and hickeys on her damn neck that do nothing to distract from her new tattoo.”
Ah, the tattoo. Jen had gotten a triskelion on the back of her neck to symbolize both her Irish heritage and her new connection to BDSM. She was also planning a piercing that none but her very close friends would be able to see, but Stephen probably didn’t want—and certainly didn’t need—to know that much about his sister.
He shook his head, as if completely bewildered. “At first I thought Scott might be back in the picture. That he was the one causing her erratic behavior. Maybe hurting her. But then I realized where she was going and what she was doing, and I thought it would be best to keep an eye on her.”
“You realized she was going to a club Owen and I both frequent, but you thought having some stranger stalk her was a better idea than giving me a call?” Had he been that intent on avoiding her?
He ignored her glare. “Somehow I got the feeling you wouldn’t approve of my concern. But he’s not a stranger. He’s an old acquaintance who owes me a favor.”
“A favor?”
“A big one. And that girl needs a keeper if she’s going to insist on making one bad decision after another. I trust Trick to protect her without stepping over the line.”
“Trick? What kind of name is that? Did he get that in jail?”
She’d been going out of her way to be a smartass, but Stephen responded with a nod, surprising her. “Trick is the kind of name you give yourself when being Tristan makes you the target of the fist-happy thugs in Corrections. He’s a bit hard to know, but he’s done his time and he’s good at his job.”
Tasha stared at him. Stephen had a man with a criminal background following his baby sister, but he thought going to the club was a bad decision? That her lifestyle was a bad decision?
She crossed her arms defensively. “Jen likes how it feels, Stephen. She likes being the focus of someone’s attention. There isn’t anything wrong with that.”
Stephen snorted. “Jennifer hasn’t lacked for attention since the day she was born. She’s never lacked for anything.”
Except a direction. They both knew it was true, but she wasn’t going to be the one to say it. Not when she was in the middle of defending the girl.
“Don’t be thick,” she scolded severely. “You know what kind of attention I’m talking about. Up until now, her only experience with sex and romance has been with a douchebag who, by all accounts, only cared about getting himself off—which I imagine took all of three minutes before he rolled over and fell asleep.”
Stephen’s flinch was satisfying.
“Poor baby,” she taunted. “If you didn’t want to think about your sister having sex, you shouldn’t have followed her because that’s what she’s doing. Well, that and getting tied up and whipped by experienced, well-vetted Doms.”
He looked like he was going to be ill and Tasha almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “She isn’t on drugs, Stephen. And other than that one close brush with the law, she hasn’t committed any crimes. She may not be making the smartest decisions, but she’s making them for herself instead of hiding from them, which is something you should appreciate.”
“That doesn’t mean she—”
“She’s just satisfying her curiosity and a few healthy appetites,” Tasha said over him. "If you got off your moral high horse for a minute you’d remember what it was like to enjoy yourself. Experimenting with kink isn’t such a bad thing. You might even like it. Two out of four Finns already do.”
“I remember enjoying myself,” he murmured. He was staring at her breasts again, making it clear exactly what he was remembering. “As to the other… You want to test that theory?”
Tasha’s arms dropped numbly to her sides. “Excuse me?”
The weight of Stephen’s hooded gaze was like the touch of a hand or the rough glide of a tongue along her skin. She wanted him to touch her. Taste her. She definitely had some appetites that were in need of satisfaction.
“Not as smooth a delivery as I planned. You’d think I didn’t communicate for a living.” He ran his hands through his hair again, looking uncomfortable and mussed. It was an oddly attractive change. “I’m not sure where to begin or how much I’m allowed to tell you.”
“That sounds intriguing,” she said, trailing behind him as he walked to his desk.
“It isn’t.” He sat in his plush leather executive chair and gestured for her to have a seat across the desk from him, but Tasha wandered toward the bookshelves along the wall instead, pretending to study the titles.
Stephen sighed. “Look, Jen is a hot button topic right now, I won’t deny it. I’m her brother, so of course I’m worried about her. But I didn’t bring you here to argue about that.”
Could have fooled her. “Then why?”
“What I’m about to tell you, only a handful of people know. I’m trusting you to make sure it stays that way.”
Tasha laughed and sent him a grin. She couldn’t help it. “Worried I might not be able to keep a secret? Baby, you do know who you’re talking to, right? I’m the Finn vault. I’ve kept your sister’s secrets. I’ve kept Owen’s. And Lord knows I’ve kept yours.”
Stephen smiled back at her, but his expression swiftly sobered. “It had to be said before I officially asked for your help.”
He’d asked her here because he wanted her help with something? Something that didn’t have to do with his sister? She turned toward him, lifted her fingers to her lips and mimed turning a key in a lock.
“Good.” He lost focus for a moment, apparently gathering his thoughts before he spoke. “Most of the time being a senator is like slogging through quicksand. When I was DA life was easier. Now? The trial is never over, the jury is always out and I have more press attention and paid vacation days than I know what to do with. But I might finally have a real chance to do some good.”
“I feel your pain. Vacation days are the worst. Tell me more,” she said, wandering back toward him.
He let her sarcasm slide. “It seems that in the process of doing my job, particularly on the senatorial ethics committee, I’ve gained some attention. Recently, an opportunity has arisen that would allow me to do something tangible. Something that, in the long run, could have a positive impact on the way this state is run even after I’m out of office.”
He gave her a significant look as she paused in front of his desk. “The only catch is this isn’t a one-man job. I find myself in a situation for which your singular skills are required if I’m to move forward.”
Oh, so formal and careful—the good senator could hardly have acted more suspiciously if he’d tried.
Tasha forced a smile. “My singular skills?”
Picking up the glass paperweight from his desk, she gave it a little toss before catching it in one hand. “Well, since I can’t juggle, you must be talking about my other skills.”
He sighed. “Natasha—”
“Having issues with the minority vote, Senator?” she asked pointedly as she rubbed her thumb over the shamrock etched into the smooth glass. Owen must have given this to him. “Or would you like me to hold a fundraiser at the club you disapprove of? I could make a banner, bake some cookies and give away free handcuffs. Fetishists for Finn.”
The expression on Stephen’s face was reproachful. “The senate is in recess for the next few weeks, and I’ve been invited to a gathering at a private residence with an exclusive guest list. It’s been advertised as four days and three nights spent exchanging policy ideas in a relaxing environment, away from the oppressive city heat. I’m told bringing a companion would not be remiss. I’d like you to be that companion.”
Stunned, Tasha reached for the chair behind her and sat down before she fell down.
“Wait,” s
he said, blinking at him in disbelief. “You want me to come to a house party…as your date?”
Chapter Two
That was why he’d dragged her here on a Saturday afternoon after six months of silence?
Stephen had the grace to look abashed. “I know you’ll say it bends our rules, but the situation is unique.”
“Bends?” Tasha sent him a speaking look. “Try shatters.”
The rules between them were clear, and they hadn’t changed in the years since college—she was Owen’s old high school friend and he was Owen’s brother, and as far as everyone else was concerned, that was the extent of their relationship. They didn’t see each other in public outside of family functions or accidental meetings on the street. They didn’t travel in the same circles. They’d certainly never met in his office or gone on a date.
But a convenient loophole existed for those times when she and Stephen couldn’t help but give in to the chemistry between them. When that situation arose, usually every year or so, they found a private or semi-private place where they could jump each other’s bones and get it out of their systems. Then they went back to their lives, no harm done and no regrets.
Over the years Stephen had grown lax about those rules, but she never had. When he tried to approach her at the pub or one of Jeremy’s backyard parties to engage her in small talk, she made herself scarce. When he sent invitations to charity events, the way he did for every member of his family and their friends, she was always too busy to go. When she came with Jeremy to volunteer during Stephen’s reelection campaigns, she never looked his way or gave any indication that she was willing to lick more than stamps for the sexy politician.
Tasha had learned the hard way that diligence was essential when it came to resisting a Finn. She couldn’t let herself forget that this was the only kind of relationship they could have. Some might argue that it wasn’t a relationship at all, that it wasn’t healthy. But whatever it was, healthy or not, she’d never been willing to risk it. She didn’t want to think about the day it would end.
What Stephen was asking might speed that day along.
Setting the paperweight back on his desk, she tried not to sound as panicked as she felt. “Being your plus one in front of other politicians, in public, is definitely against our rules, Senator. You have to know that.”
His lips curled disdainfully. “Phil Burke is no politician.” Ignoring her gasp, he continued, “But he is big on security and secrecy. This is a very private function, with me as the special guest and the only representative present. Technically we wouldn’t be together in public.”
Tasha gaped at him. Philip Burke was wealthy, dangerous and, as the owner of the biggest newspaper in the state and his own talk radio station, responsible for revealing the scandalous secrets of any politician who wasn’t malleable enough to accept his money and play his game. No one could ever definitively prove Burke was crooked, but everyone knew it was true.
“Stephen Finn, what the hell kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into?” she finally demanded.
“The complicated kind.” He grimaced. “I didn’t seek it out, believe me. Burke has been focused on me for a while. I think he sees me as something of a challenge. The feds contacted me a little over five months ago to let me know he was under investigation and ask for my help.”
“Which you said yes to because you’re a closet masochist with a death wish?”
He ignored her question. “Since then I’ve been slowly but surely allowing him to woo me. Lunches, dinner meetings where I let him think he’s getting to me. That I’m frustrated and not as idealistic as I used to be. Not exactly a lie, and that truth has served my purpose. I’ve also led him to believe my appetites are not for public consumption.”
“Has he threatened you?”
Stephen waved off her concern with a flip of his hand. “He likes to bring up my past, but there’s nothing threatening in that. I’ve never lied about it. He has implied knowledge about the rest of the family that could be construed as vaguely threatening—Seamus and his precarious situation with the kids, Dad’s connections to the Irish mob through good old Grandpa Finn…”
“Owen and Jeremy?” Tasha asked, concerned.
Stephen smiled at that. “Ours was one of the first states to legalize same-sex marriage, Natasha. When the law passed, this city threw an impromptu weeklong celebration that was so over the top it got national media coverage. Coming after me for that would only make Burke look bad.” He shrugged. “But he’d no doubt pile it on top of the mountain of bullshit he’s collecting to use as leverage. I’ve been trying to keep his attention away from Jennifer, but she hasn’t made it easy. Now I have this invitation and I need to accept it. This is my chance to get him to make me an offer and be done with the whole dirty business.”
“But?” She could hear it in his voice.
“But this gathering isn’t going to be relaxing, despite his claim. Not for me, at any rate. From what I understand, the activities planned aren’t exactly in my wheelhouse.”
He didn’t have to tell her why. People at the club talked about Burke’s private parties all the time. They were infamous for every form of hedonism and kink imaginable. Phil Burke and his endless string of young wives played the hosts, and they spared no expense in their quest for debauchery. Tasha had turned down a friend’s offer to join them a few years ago. It had seemed sordid then, but now that Burke had obviously set his sights on corrupting Stephen? She shuddered, wanting to warn everyone she knew to stay away. Burke needed to be blackballed for using people’s sexual preferences for political leverage.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Let’s see if I understand the situation. You want me to join you for a dirty slumber party so you can play undercover agent for the feds and let Burke compromise your reputation—because you have to know that’s his plan. And those skills of mine that you need have to do with my reputation at the club. You know that if he snoops around in my life, he’ll see exactly what he needs to see to make you irresistibly bribable.”
Stephen’s lips quirked. “That about sums it up.”
A completely inappropriate laugh threatened to escape her throat. “You need a beard.”
“A what?”
“You want me to be your kinky beard.”
Stephen furrowed his brow in confusion. “Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?”
“You rarely do, so why start now? Just let me enjoy the moment.” She crossed her legs, feeling her skirt slip high on her thighs. He noticed. “So what are your thoughts, Senator Finn? What would I be to you in this scenario? Mistress? Girlfriend? Your secret cup of Puerto Rican hot chocolate on the side?”
He gave her the look that always made her ache. The one that made her want to beg. “Yes.”
He could be dangerous when he wanted to be. “And saying yes to this will mean I’ll need to act that part for the duration?”
“Yes.” His voice was deeper now, with the barest hint of a rasp. “I need him to believe you’re the weakness he can use against me. He’s been looking for something he can hold over my head. Something I’m passionate about that has the potential to be scandalous. Someone I’m passionate about.”
Tasha shifted in her seat at his emphasis. “It does sound like a role I was born to play—the mixed-race mistress with curves for miles and a shady family background.”
“It’s your shameless behavior that makes you right for this, not your genealogy,” Stephen corrected softly. “Your knowledge would be invaluable. And there’d be no need to pretend desire. Not between us.”
That was true. No pretense was necessary. She was ready for an undressed rehearsal right now.
“Since I’m not sure when he’ll send for us, you and Brady will spend the evening at my house. I’m hoping we can prepare a plan of action.”
“And you’re taking your cousin to a kinky sex party…why?”
“I’m allowed a bodyguard. I think Burke believes it will put me at ease. Br
ady’s got the right background and he’s been vetted by my contact, so they’ve allowed it. It won’t hurt to have someone we trust watching our backs.”
They better have damn well allowed it—Brady Finn was a genuine hero, a kickass Marine with a medal and everything. But vetting took a little time. How long had Stephen known about this party? “Did they vet me?”
He looked away from her. “They asked, but I told them it was unnecessary. That I trusted you, and if my word wasn’t good enough, we had a problem.”
Because he knew she wouldn’t pass their test? She couldn’t deny it was true. One or two cousins on her mother’s side had had more than simple brushes with the law, and her father had lived illegally in the United States—until she was ten, when he was deported back to Ireland and the family legacy he’d tried to escape.
She shook her head. “You’re crazy if you think they don’t already know every detail about my life, whether you said it was necessary or not. Hell, I have relatives in the IRA. I’m probably already on a list.”
“And the Finns were mobsters and bootleggers. What’s your point? I was simply informing them that you couldn’t be replaced with a female agent.”
She knew it. “They had someone in mind, didn’t they?”
His look said it all. “Burke would have made her as an agent the minute she walked through the door.”
“Made her? You already have the lingo down and everything.” She sighed a little dramatically. “So I’m last-minute Lucy. I’m flattered. Unless I wasn’t the first girl into kink you occasionally had sex with on your list. Because that would hurt my feelings.”
“No.” His look was a mixture of displeasure and concern. “There was no one else on my list. I know I should have talked to you sooner. Putting you in Burke’s crosshairs just so I can have a believable cover is selfish as hell.”
But he needed one. If this wasn’t successful, Stephen could lose everything he’d worked for. He could be forced to leave office and do one of those humiliating press conferences where he had to apologize for perversions he hadn’t even gotten to experience. At least he wasn’t married. It was always the stone-faced wives standing behind their men that Tasha felt most sorry for.