Landis took a seat next to her. “Brett. Nice to meet you. Are you and your husband here on business or…pleasure?”
Dario smiled, obviously satisfied with Landis’s conclusion of his relationship to Heather. “A bit of both,” he said.
Heather put her hand on Landis’s knee and moved it slowly and provocatively upward along her muscled thigh. Dario openly stared at the interaction.
“He takes care of the business end, and I the pleasure.” She looked Landis straight in the eyes. She didn’t know what she expected to see there, but it wasn’t the look of raw desire Landis returned. She’s either played this role before or…or what?
Landis leaned forward until her mouth was an inch away from hers. “Any suggestions for where we can all get some pleasure?”
“My husband likes to watch,” Heather said.
“Suits me fine.” Landis never took her eyes off her.
“Why don’t we take this to our suite?” Dario suggested.
Landis turned to him for the first time. “Yes, let’s.”
* * *
Belesta-en-Lauragais, France
Cassady woke to birdcalls, and when she opened her eyes the brilliant, welcome sunshine after her long days of darkness was initially painful. Her head ached and she felt hung over, but she retained enough of her faculties to know immediately she’d been moved from the basement. Her muscles cramped badly and she couldn’t move. Hazily, she realized her hands and feet were tightly bound, her mouth gagged with duct tape, and she was lying in a bathtub. She remembered Rózsa injecting her with something, and the body of the policeman. Evidently he’d gotten away before anyone came around inquiring about the cop’s disappearance and had taken her with him. Where were they now?
Grunting from the exertion, she tried to maneuver herself so she could see more of the room, only then realizing he’d hog-tied her, too. She could barely see over the lip of the enormous steel tub, and only then through maximum effort. The bathroom was tiny. A sink, tub, and toilet, the usual toilet paper and toilet brush, a couple of towels, and some soap. On a little shelf beside the tub, three small plastic bottles filled with shampoo, conditioner, and bath gel. A closed cabinet beneath the sink hinted at more resources, but she had little chance of breaking her bindings and getting to it.
The window that let the sunlight in was too high to reach and too small to fit through. The ceiling light fixture above consisted of a cheap plastic cover over a single bulb. Where was Rózsa? She listened intently, but could hear no sounds except the birdcalls. She tried unsuccessfully to work up some spit to loosen the duct tape. She’d been without water too long.
Water.
The faucet for the bathtub was on the end near her feet. If she could maneuver herself around, maybe she could turn one of the handles with her chin, get some water flowing, loosen the tape.
At least then she could scream for help.
* * *
Andor Rózsa sat in front of the window, the sheer curtain pulled so he could see out clearly, but anyone outside would notice only a silhouette. Not that he had much to worry about, at least for the moment. No one had walked by all morning, and as far as he could tell, they were the only guests. He was fortunate it was the off-season. For a hastily chosen stopping point, it could be worse. The Le Moulin Pastelier Guest House lay between Toulouse and Carcassonne, in a region filled with vineyards and far land and dotted with small lakes. The converted sixteenth-century brick structure was remote, but only ten minutes from the A61 highway. By the time he’d moved the policeman’s car out of sight in bushes near his cottage, hastily packed his things, and moved his hostage, it had been after midnight. He’d had only eight hours of darkness to get as far away as possible and find a place to hole up where he could figure out what to do. He’d been lucky to spot the small, dark sign to the guesthouse an hour before sunrise. The sleepy proprietor had happily agreed to let him have his pick of the rooms and see himself in without assistance. The corner room he’d picked was farthest from the owner’s, on the opposite end of the converted farmhouse.
Now, he needed a plan.
They couldn’t stay here long. They had to get somewhere much more private as soon as the owner retired tonight and it was safe to leave. He was too recognizable as it was, and the situation could quickly get worse. It had been weeks since his image had been plastered all over the news, but it might soon be again if they managed to connect him to the murdered policeman. Who knew whether, even now, the proprietor of the guesthouse might be seeing his face on his television? Andor had managed to keep the man from getting a good look at him in the dark, but he couldn’t avoid him for long.
He had to move them to another private home, or somewhere equally suitable, and that took money. More money than he’d gotten from Dario. He couldn’t rely on getting his own money back from his hostage’s people. So he’d squeezed Dario again, this time for half a million US dollars. But Dario had resisted, and he wasn’t sure he would comply.
Andor glanced at his watch. He’d give Dario another few hours to think about it. While he waited, he’d catch some much-needed rest. He lay down and was nearly asleep when he heard the sound of water running. He bolted from bed and hurried into the bathroom. His hostage had her head under the tub faucet and was trying to remove her gag. Alarm and fury drove him across the room. He pummeled her face with his fists until she groaned and lay still, her blood mixing with the water to form a pale-pink pool around her.
He turned off the water and went to get some sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Beijing, China
Chase trailed Dario and Heather as they entered the Presidential Suite so she could scope out the place. Doors off to the right and left of the spacious main area of the suite no doubt led to bathrooms and bedrooms, but she didn’t know which was Heather’s and which was Dario’s.
“Why don’t you make our visitor comfortable, Heather?” Dario wheeled himself into the living area.
Heather turned to Chase. “Please, sit down. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Thank you, I’m fine.” She removed her blazer and sat on the wide, plush couch, legs apart and one arm resting on the back.
“You seem quite comfortable,” Dario said. “I take it this isn’t your first time.”
“I’m forty and chronically single. I left first times behind me a long time ago.” She hoped Heather would relax before Dario realized how much she wasn’t into her. She looked so stressed and uneasy she was going to blow the whole operation and get them into serious trouble. “Why don’t you join me?” She nodded subtly and reassuringly.
“Don’t keep our guest waiting.” Dario tried to sound polite but she caught the agitated undertone.
As soon as Heather sat beside her, Chase moved in closer and put her arm around her shoulder. God, she smelled so good.
“No kissing on the mouth,” Heather said.
“As you wish,” she said, looking at her lips.
“And you will do as I say.” Dario turned his wheelchair to face them.
“I know the rules.” She still gazed at Heather.
“You may begin,” Dario said. “Remove her dress.”
She got up and extended her hand. Heather took it and stood to face her. Chase could feel how uncomfortable she was; she’d even said she didn’t want sex with her. She had to calm her down and relax her, so for the moment she ignored Dario’s instructions and didn’t turn Heather around to unzip her. She tried for eye contact, but Heather’s gaze kept moving from her eyes, to her mouth, and back again. She swallowed hard and brought her lips to within half an inch of Heather’s. She didn’t do it with any kind of plan; she didn’t intend to kiss Heather. That irresistibly sexy mouth just drew her in.
But Heather placed her finger on Chase’s lips and stopped her. She took the finger in her mouth and sucked it softly, then placed her lips on Heather’s ear and slowly traced a path with her tongue down her neck to her shoulder. When Chase heard a soft gro
an, a thick fog filled her head and a battle began to rage inside her. She should be focused on her mission and why she was here, but she wanted only to lose herself in the smell, the taste, and the feel of Heather’s skin.
“I said, take her dress off,” Dario repeated more forcefully.
Chase traced kisses on her shoulder as she slowly turned Heather, keeping her own face out of Dario’s vision. Her mouth near Heather’s ear, she whispered, “You’re doing great.”
With Heather turned away, Chase ran her hands up the sides of Heather’s back and stopped at the zipper. Heather’s head fell back against her and she heard another soft moan. She lowered the zipper of the dress until Heather was exposed down to the small of her back, then she lifted Heather’s golden-brown hair and kissed the back of her neck. Slowly, she slipped the straps of Heather’s dress down. Her skin was flawless and so exquisitely soft Chase couldn’t stop caressing her.
She yearned to wish Dario and the rest of the world away so she could be alone with Heather. As Heather’s dress fell to the floor, Chase followed it down, stooping to stroke the back of Heather’s thighs and calves, but she kept one side turned away from Dario so she could surreptitiously slip the first bug from her pocket. When she reached the tangle of dress at Heather’s feet, she attached the bug to the bottom of the side table, using their bodies to shield her actions from Dario’s view.
She coaxed Heather to step out of the dress, gently lifting one foot, then the other, before she slowly made her way back up her body, kissing and caressing the soft, delicate skin of her legs, back, and neck. Heather shivered.
With Heather still facing away, Chase said, “I want you at the table,” loud enough for Dario to hear. Pressed together, her front against Heather’s back, she led them to the dining area off to the right, placed Heather’s hands on the edge of the table, then drew her hips back until Heather’s ass was up against her crotch.
She slowly caressed Heather’s back with her right hand, while her left—the one Dario couldn’t see—slipped the second bug from her pocket. To make sure Dario’s attention was entirely on Heather, she traced a path with her fingers from Heather’s back, to her side, to her breast.
Heather’s body tensed and Chase heard a sharp intake of breath when she pinched the rigid nipple beneath her palm, then Heather moaned loudly and pushed her ass deeper into Chase’s crotch.
She could see in her peripheral vision that Dario was fixated on Heather, so in a fluid motion, she slid the bug under the massive table, then brought her hand up to cup Heather’s other breast. As she did, she drove her crotch hard against Heather’s ass. She was dizzy with lust; although she had to concentrate on the job, her body was working against her. She wanted nothing more than to rip Heather’s panties off and fuck her senseless—not because Heather was a call girl, nor because Chase was horny—but because no woman had ever wound her up this much without even touching her.
“Take her shirt off, Heather,” Dario said. Chase was already close to losing it, so the idea of removing her shirt almost did her in.
Heather slowly pivoted and, with heavy eyelids, looked up at Chase. Her breathing was ragged and her face flushed.
“Take my shirt off,” Chase demanded.
Heather never stopped looking into her eyes as she slowly unbuttoned the shirt, starting at the bottom. By the time she reached the last button, Chase was beside herself. She fought to keep her hands from shaking. Heather hesitated briefly before she peeled the shirt from her shoulders.
Chase wasn’t used to women taking their time with her, especially since time was money, which left her with very little experience as to how to handle Heather’s adagio tempo. Fists clenched, she willed herself not to take Heather right there and then.
“Are you enjoying this?” Heather asked, as she expertly and swiftly pulled Chase’s belt loose.
“I…God, what are you doing?” she gasped. She knew Heather was putting on a show, a really convincing one, but she couldn’t possibly be oblivious to what she was putting Chase through.
“Tell me what you want.” Heather pulled her forward and placed her hands on Chase’s breasts over her thin, black bra.
She was so aroused her heart was beating wildly. Surely Heather could feel it. Their lips were an inch apart as Heather reached down and unzipped her trousers.
Her mind fogged by desire, she momentarily forgot everything but the woman before her. Against Heather’s rules and wishes, she pulled their bodies together and licked Heather’s lips.
“Don’t,” Heather mumbled unconvincingly, and tried to pull away.
Chase grabbed her hard by the wrists. “I need to kiss you.” She dug her hand into Heather’s hair and forced her head forward until their lips met.
“No kissing.” Heather tried to pull away, but she bit down hard on Heather’s bottom lip. She couldn’t stop herself.
As she pulled back, Heather winced, and a trickle of blood bloomed on the edge of her mouth. “I’m sorry.”
Heather wiped the blood away with the back of her hand. “Play by the rules,” she said with meaning. “You can have anything but my mouth.”
“Anything?”
Heather placed her hands on Chase’s breasts and slowly massaged them. “Anything.”
Chase roughly lifted her, and Heather wrapped her legs around Chase’s waist.
Heather dug her face in Chase’s neck. “How are we doing?” she asked in a low voice.
Chase’s mind was too clouded to realize what Heather was asking. “What?” she mumbled.
“The bugs,” Heather whispered in her ear.
She had to force herself back to reality. “Two down, one to go,” she replied fuzzily.
“Where do you want me…the last one?” Heather corrected herself.
Chase carried her across the room as Dario watched and placed Heather atop the bar. Dario turned his wheelchair slightly to enjoy the show. Heather looked at her, half dazed, half confused, obviously not knowing what to expect. She gasped out loud when Chase forcefully spread her legs and ran her hands up Heather’s thighs, stopping just short of her sheer panties.
As Chase bent over, she discreetly retrieved the last bug from her pocket. So close she could smell Heather’s arousal, she struggled to keep her focus. She needed to get the last bug on the underside of the bar’s banister, so in order to distract Dario she placed a hand on either side of Heather and traced hungry kisses up Heather’s thighs. As she neared the inviting apex of her legs, Heather threw her head back and mumbled something unintelligible. Chase planted the bug just as Heather grabbed her head. Whether it was to encourage or stop her, Chase would never find out.
“I’m done,” she whispered, as she memorized the sensation of Heather’s hands in her hair, the scent of her arousal, the softness of the skin against her lips.
Heather nodded, and not two seconds later, Chase’s cell rang.
She straightened. “I have to take it,” she said apologetically to Heather. “It could be work.”
“Of course. Go ahead.”
“This is your very serious yet very fake business call,” Jack said.
“That’s very upsetting,” she replied, trying to sound perturbed. “I’ll talk to him right away. We can’t lose this deal.” She hung up. “My apologies to both of you.” She turned from Heather to Dario. “But I have a crisis situation. I’m afraid I have to leave.”
“Can’t it wait a little?” Heather pursed out her lips in a pout.
“I’m sorry.” Chase walked to the dining table and picked her shirt up off the floor. “But I really must leave.”
“How unfortunate, just when it was about to get good,” Dario said.
She and Heather both turned to look at him. The bulge between his legs was unmistakable, and she was glad she hadn’t been able to see it earlier because it would have definitely put a damper on her zealous performance. Heather looked away in distaste as well as she jumped off the bar.
She hurriedly redressed and went
to the door, pausing at the threshold to look back at Heather. “It was a pleasure. Maybe we can get together some other time.”
“Yes…it was.” Heather looked disoriented. “But there won’t be another time.”
* * *
When Chase got back to their suite, Jack was at the desk with earphones on. “All bugs in place,” Chase told her.
“Aha. I’m picking everything up loud and clear.” Jack turned to her. “How are you?”
She dropped on the bed, sweaty and dazed. “All right, I guess.”
“I’d say you need a cold shower. Just the audio was enough to make me need a smoke.”
“What we won’t do for the organization.” She tried to smile.
“After what just happened, I think you need to thank the organization.”
She shrugged. “She’s a beautiful woman.”
“And experienced.”
“So am I.”
“Then why do you look so…disoriented?”
“What?”
“You look like you just lost your virginity.”
She unbuttoned her shirt. “Don’t be immature. It was a job.”
“If you say so, but it sure didn’t sound like it. Look, I frankly don’t care what it was, just don’t forget what she is.”
She got off the bed and stood before Jack. “What is she?”
“It’s their job to make you feel…good. It’s acting, and what she just did with you was Oscar-worthy. And good for her, considering it was the most important performance of her life.”
“I know damn well what she is, and what their job is. Heather is…different.”
“You’ve been saying that all along. I just hope your hormones aren’t blurring your judgment.”
She was quickly tiring of Jack’s inappropriate opinions. “You should be the last person to criticize or judge another for their misguided decisions. At least she never hurt anyone but herself.”
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