The Sinner's Bargain (Contracts & Deceptions Book 2)

by Claire Contreras

  “I hate that you throw that in my face.”

  “Sometimes you need a reminder of what you’ll lose in order to push you to do the right thing.”

  “The right thing?” she asked with a semblance of a laugh.

  “It would be the right thing for you.”

  “I don’t understand why the sultan put my name on that damn account. How does he even know my name?”

  “The sultan keeps tabs on everything that he can use to push him forward.”

  “Sounds familiar.”

  “I learned from the best,” he said in a non-apologetic voice.

  “He’s a terrorist!” Amara said a little loudly, hoping that would gain the audience attention, but when her eyes flickered to Sanders, his face was impassive and bored.

  “Everybody knows who he is. Your little childish antics aren’t going to help you here,” Philip answered. He didn’t sound bothered though, just matter of fact.

  “You people are sick. This entire operation is sick. You’re using a whore house to trap a terrorist’s minions.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “May as well put good use to it.” He paused. “Maybe once you speak to my boss you’ll feel differently about your involvement.”

  “Maybe. Will you stop blackmailing me?”

  Silence stretched for a moment. “Probably not.”

  They didn’t speak for the remainder of the flight, and Amara dozed off after a while, the white noise in her ears soothing her into peaceful sleep. She woke with a start at the dip in her stomach as the helicopter descended upon Washington. By the time her eyes popped open, she realized she’d missed out on seeing the famous landmarks. Blinking away the sleep from her eyes, Amara took her headset off and handed it to Philip. With help from Sanders, she hopped off the helicopter and took her bag, placing it on the ground and dragging it toward the white building in front of them. Philip walked next to her, typing away on his phone, although he stopped to hold the door open for her.

  Once again, they walked right past everybody in the building, none of them checking the bags in their hands. Amara wondered if it was that easy to slip things past them. Weren’t they supposed to be high security? She made mention of it as they walked toward a black SUV in the front of the building, and Philip laughed.

  “Everything was scanned, you just can’t see it.”

  “How?” she asked confused. “When I was sleeping?”

  The buildings are built to scan, so as you walk through them, they’re scanning you.

  “Without permission? Isn’t that invasive?”

  “It’s the U.S. government, they defined invasive.”

  Amara mulled it over for a couple of seconds and couldn’t think of a comeback. Still, how scary was that? “Where are we going now?” she asked once they settled in the car, Philip beside her this time, as the front seat was occupied by two different military men.

  “First we’re going to check into a hotel, and you’ll have a couple of hours to eat, change, rest…whatever you need to do. Then we have a meeting with my boss.”

  “Does this boss of yours have a name?”

  “Of course.”

  Her eyes flashed to his. “You’re not going to tell me?”

  The side of his lip curled up just enough to hint at amusement. “What difference does it make? You don’t know him, and you’ll find out when you see him.”

  “I like to be prepared for these things.”

  He smiled, full on this time. “It’s not a job interview, Ms. Maloof.”

  “Whatever,” she muttered and looked out the window.

  They checked into the Four Seasons. Philip got them adjoining rooms, probably so he could catch her if she tried to run off, though he knew she wouldn’t. Her room was plain, containing two double beds, a bathroom, and a desk—nothing extravagant—not that she needed it, mind you. Amara leapt onto the bed and breathed out in pleasure when she landed on the plush white comforter. She’d never been so glad to be alone. She hadn’t even taken off her shoes, but had no trouble falling into a deep slumber.

  The ringing of her phone awoke her. Amara peeled her eyes open slowly, slightly disoriented by the strange room. She sat up and looked around, rubbing her eyes and yawning as she reached for it, instantly alert at the sight of Colin’s name on her screen. She answered, her voice a choked greeting.

  “Where the hell are you?” he replied. The anger in his voice surprised her.

  “I emailed and called this morning to let you know I wouldn’t be going to work today.”

  “That wasn’t my question. Where the hell are you?” he repeated.

  Amara swallowed as she ran a finger under her eyes. “I… did you need something?”

  “Where—“

  “I had to go out of town,” she responded before he repeated the question.

  Silence stretched between them. Amara knew he was expecting her to answer more thoroughly, but she couldn’t. What would she say? That she was there with Philip? That she was going to meet Philip’s boss? Even she knew that would be playing with fire. Philip’s boss was clearly more powerful than he was, and that alone scared her into silence.

  “For what?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.

  “Business.”

  “What kind of business?”

  “Business that doesn’t involve you.”

  “Huh. That’s funny, as I thought all of your business was supposed to involve me.”

  “Huh. That’s funny, as I thought you had somebody else’s business to worry about. Maybe somebody who doesn’t have to hide in the bathroom while you speak to another woman!” Amara’s voice got louder and louder as she said each word. Her wounds were still fresh, and the anger that had been simmering in her blood finally began to seep out. Colin was silent for a moment, and Amara looked at her phone to make sure he hadn’t hung up on her.

  “When will you be back?” he asked. She was shocked at how disappointed she was that he didn’t apologize.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know if I’ll be back,” she whispered. There was a knock on her door that made her jump. “I have to go.”

  “What? Amara!”

  She hung up the phone before he could say anything else. There was no point to any of it. She didn’t know what these people wanted, and it didn’t matter. It was like Philip said, as long as her mom was comfortable and Colin was safe, she would do what she had to do.

  AMARA LEANED FORWARD in the back seat of the SUV when the car slowed down and dipped her head to get a better look of where they were. It looked like a military compound of some sort, judging from the soldiers walking past the gate. The driver lowered the window and showed a badge of some sort, and the soldier ducked his head to look inside the car. They exchanged words and the soldier nodded as he stepped back and opened the gate. Once they parked, everyone got out of the car and followed the driver into one of the buildings. Amara kept her head down, not wanting to make eye contact with the people that walked by them. She used her pants to wipe her clammy hands and tried to quiet her nerves by distracting herself with counting the squares on the floor as they walked through a very intimidating, official-looking building.

  It was by far the longest corridor she’d ever walked, or maybe it was the fact that her self-consciousness was getting the better of her. She felt like she didn’t belong in a place like this, full of military and government officials, and Philip. The place made her feel like an elementary school child on her way to the principal’s office. The driver halted in front of a door and knocked twice before a booming voice cut through the door to beckon the party to enter. The driver opened the door, revealing a large desk surrounded by plaques and photographs. A man rose slowly from his seat behind the desk as Philip and Amara walked in. He was a perfect example of tall, dark, and handsome, but his presence carried an intimidation factor that made Amara nervous.

  Her eyes traveled down his uniform, where the name Jennings sat over his left breast pocket along with what seemed like dozens of
stars arranged beneath it.

  “Thank you, Quinn, I’ll take it from here,” Jennings said, his voice quiet and commanding as he extended his hand to Philip first and then to Amara. His dark eyes stayed on hers as his hand engulfed hers and shook firmly. “Major Jennings, but you may call me Timothy.”

  “Amara,” she said, pleased at how clear her voice was.

  He signaled her to take a seat across from him and waited for her to sit before he sank back into his chair.

  “So, Amara Maloof, we finally meet,” Timothy said with a small comforting smile she felt was meant to put her at ease. “You look younger than you are.”

  “I look younger than twenty-two?” she asked, wide-eyed.

  He chuckled and looked down at the papers on his desk. “You’ll be glad for that when you get older. I see you have a birthday coming up though. October baby. My daughter’s birthday is a couple of days before yours.”

  Amara smiled. “How old will she be?”

  “Twenty-one,” he said, laughing when Amara’s eyes widened further. He didn’t look old enough to have a twenty-one year old. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” He said, reading her thoughts. “She’s actually one of the reasons I wanted to meet you. I know everything you’ve been through this past year, and well… I can’t imagine if it were my daughter going through it. I would have already killed Philip if you were my kid.” He turned his serious eyes toward Philip, who simply sat back in his chair and crossed his leg over his knee as if he was completely relaxed.

  “I want you to know, Amara, that we appreciate everything you’re doing,” Jennings continued. “I know it’s a tough position for anyone to be in. You may not be in uniform but trust me, what you’re doing is for the good of this country.”

  “I don’t even know what I’m doing,” Amara said quietly. Though she was thankful for his vote of confidence in her, she wasn’t as sure as he was…about anything.

  Jennings nodded in understanding. His eyes flashed to Philip for a moment before looking back to her. “Do you watch the news?”

  “Sometimes,” she said. Amara only really watched the news if it was on the treadmill at the gym.

  “Well I don’t have to tell you about September 11th or the—for lack of a better word —shit storm that started. There was peace in Iraq, then it started over in Afghan, and so on and so forth, but in between this, some important deals were made between the countries, and papers were stolen from us. We were made believe that they were given back to us.” Jennings paused to give Philip a meaningful look that made Amara literally shake in her seat. “Later, we found out that the papers we have in our possession are photocopies of the originals.”

  “And my grandfather has the original copies in his safe,” Amara said.

  “Exactly.”

  She took a deep breath. What she wanted to do was bury her face in her hands and let out a frustrated scream.

  “What does this have to do with me?” she asked, finally.

  “Philip has told you about the men who are trying to find you,” he said, waiting until she confirmed it before continuing. “Those men aren’t working for your grandfather, Vladimir, but they somehow found out the contents of the safe and want in. They think what they need is your presence, and that’s enough for us. What I need is those men; I need to know who they work for and what it is they want.”

  “And you need the papers,” Amara said, though it was more of a question.

  “And I need the papers.”

  “Okay… can’t I just go get them from the safe?” She prayed he would say yes— hoped he would tell her it would all be over if she did that.

  “You can, but I still need to know who they’re working for.”

  Amara’s eyes scanned the office, noticing all the plaques and pictures on the wall—family photos scattered in with the work-related ones—images that showed Jennings posing with different presidents and other white house officials she recognized from television.

  “You have so many people though—so many resources—why me?”

  Jennings face was serious again, but she saw some compassion in his eyes. “There’s a reason we employee Batiste,” he said, his eyes cutting to Philip again for a moment. “He does what we can’t do, because if we get involved, it becomes about the US government, and when the US government gets involved it, means resources. More eyes watch our every move, meaning that if we take anybody out, our hands get dirty, and once again we resort to violence and get between foreign things that aren’t supposed to involve us or our president.”

  She nodded, understanding where he was going with this. “So if Philip does your dirty work, nobody finds out, and if I put myself in danger and get killed, I’m just another stupid American girl that was in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

  “You won’t get killed. He’s the best we’ve got,” Jennings said pointing at Philip, which didn’t comfort her as much as he probably thought it should.

  “He’s been using the people I love as blackmail since this whole thing started,” Amara said.

  “We do what we have to, Ms. Maloof,” Philip said, finally chiming in.

  Amara glared at him and looked back at Jennings. “Is that how you do business around here?”

  Jennings actually laughed at her. “You don’t want to know how we do business around here. Unfortunately, he’s right about that —we do what we have to —but we do appreciate what you’re doing.”

  “But I’m not even doing it because I want to be doing it,” she argued.

  “Then we appreciate it even more.”

  “What if something happens to me? What if this actually goes well and we’re successful. Do you think my grandfather won’t retaliate? Won’t it be a bigger shit storm?”

  “You let us handle that. You do this for us, and we guarantee the safety of you and your loved ones. We don’t take threats on the lives of our own idly, Ms. Maloof.”

  Amara took another breath and thought about it. Getting a bunch of papers from a safe seemed easy enough. “Okay. Tell me what to do.”

  Jennings smiled, rows of perfect white teeth showing through his lips. “Good girl.”

  SHE’D HAD NO further contact with Colin since she’d returned home from her trip with Philip. It was as if he’d been trying to kill her with his silence, but after speaking at length with Major Jennings, Amara thought maybe it was best Colin kept his distance. Still, when Monday rolled around, she was nervous to go back to work.

  “Hey, how are you feeling?” Brandon greeted as he exited the coffee room.

  “Much better, thank you,” she replied with a smile as she put her purse on the floor.

  “How was your weekend?”

  “Uneventful,” Amara lied.

  “You’re hanging out with the wrong crowd!”

  Just then, Colin stepped out of the elevator and looked at them blandly, nodding his head in greeting.

  “You’re not kidding,” she said, her eyes following Colin’s back until he shut the door of his office.

  As Colin and Brandon worked on client portfolios and announced they’d be busy through lunch, Amara had to stay in the office and answer each of their phone lines. It also meant she had to get the three of them lunch, which was where she’d been when Samuel stepped into the elevator beside her.

  “Hello, there,” he said with a subtle smile.

  “Hi,” she responded, shifting the weight of the take-out bags in her hands. “What are you doing here?”

  “Had to get some work done.”

  “What kind of work?”

  When the elevator stopped on the twenty-third floor, Samuel pulled her out by the arm.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Amara asked trying to keep her voice quiet yet firm. Her stop was twenty floors above this one, aside from the fact that she didn’t like the way he was manhandling her.

  “We need you at Méchant on Friday at eight o’clock for an auction,” Samuel said as he pulled her into an empty cubicle.

  Amar
a felt her heart actually stop for a moment. “What kind of auction?”

  “Where our big clients go, to bid on time with the girls.”

  She jerked her arm out of his hold, the bags crinkling loudly. “Colin paid for me not to screw random men. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t approve of me being at this auction.”

  Samuel arched an eyebrow. “Since when do you take orders from Colin?”

  “I don’t, but I don’t take orders from you either.”

  “Oh, so this is Philip’s wish then?” he asked with a chuckle.

  Amara stayed quiet. It wasn’t really Philip’s either. It wasn’t anybody’s but hers. She would go to the auction and do what she needed to do. It was probably the event one of the men looking for her was waiting for, but the way Samuel approached her about it and the way he was talking to her was unnecessary, and she was annoyed over it.

  “Is that all you needed?” she snapped.

  “Just be there at eight o’clock on Friday, and don’t worry about who you will or won’t fuck. If you’re lucky, you’ll end up in a room with me.” There was amusement in his eyes that Amara did not appreciate.

  “Fuck off,” she growled as she stomped out of the cubicle and made her way back to the elevator. After it made its stops on the way up, she went straight to the conference room and set the bags down. Amara wondered if Philip kept Samuel in the know about everything. Had he told him about their trip and the conversation with Jennings? Her phone chimed in her pocket, interrupting her thoughts, and she saw a text message from a number she didn’t have saved.

  Méchant at 8pm. Don’t make me drag you there. –S

  “Motherfucker,” she mumbled as she read it.

  “Everything okay?” Brandon asked, startling her. She looked up to see him and Colin walking out of his office.

  “Sure. I was just going to come get you.”

  “You’re going to eat with us, right?” he asked.

  “Umm...” Amara looked at Colin, who looked at her blankly. She amused herself for a second with the thought of joining them out of spite or simply walking away. Eventually she decided maybe walking away was best. Just the sight of him made her stomach turn, and unfortunately not in a bad way. He had ditched his tie and undone the first button of his white shirt, but left it tucked into his slacks and rolled up his sleeves, exposing his defined forearms. And damn if that didn’t make her hot. “I’ll just man the phones while you guys eat,” she said with a smile and turned to walk away.