by Cindy Dees
The hour-long contingency planning session just before she’d come over to the restaurant hadn’t helped her nerves one bit. The Medusas had brainstormed everything they could think of that might go wrong during the evening and discussed what the best response to each crisis would be. While she understood the necessity, she really didn’t relish talking about what if Hake tried to rape her, or what if he got drunk and passed out in bed with her. Besides, she had no intention of ending up in bed with him, drunk or otherwise.
Of course, her teammates had laughed uproariously when she’d asserted that. She scowled in recollection. Sometimes being part of such a close-knit group was a pain in the butt.
“Ten minutes,” the restaurant manager announced through her dressing-room door.
She glanced at her watch. The restaurant had filled up early again tonight. The manager swore it was because people were packing the place to see her dance. She had a hard time crediting that explanation, however. She tilted her chin down and muttered to the microphone in her bra strap, “Is he here?”
“Just walked in,” Alex replied. “And may I just say, nicely done, Scorpion.”
Casey rolled her eyes. But butterflies were jumping around in her stomach and for some reason, she felt an impulse to check her makeup and hair.
Ten minutes until she would stand in front of him again, half-naked and baring her soul for him. A shiver ran across her skin that was all about anticipating his dark, smoky gaze caressing her and making her feel beautiful. The guy was truly dangerous.
She stretched carefully, going through a quick yoga routine, warming up her muscles and loosening her spine. Appearing boneless was more of a strain on the body than most people guessed. But compliments of her Special Forces training, muscular strength was not a problem. She just had to watch her flexibility. Blood began to flow and her body became warm and limber and supple. She was ready.
Then why was she so jittery and tense?
Because she was about to step out onto a stage and make love to a man in front of three hundred people.
Hake sucked in a sharp breath as she stepped out onstage. He’d forgotten just how stunning she was. He devoured the sight of her greedily, anticipating having that sinuous sexual intensity all to himself. When she finally opened her eyes after the opening taksim dance, she looked straight at him and flashed a private little smile that sent his blood pressure through the roof. Lord, that woman was incredible.
She moved off the stage and out into the audience, momentarily breaking her intimate connection with him. He followed her willowy form, jealously waiting for her to return and dance for him.
“Excuse me. May I sit with you?”
Startled, Hake looked up at the man speaking to him in Arabic. The man threw him a significant look that made Hake start. Here? Now? The contact for the terrorists wanted to talk about the sale of the milling machine? Hake gestured for the man to have a seat.
“You may call me Jabar.”
Not a chance in hell that was the guy’s real name. Hake nodded. “You already know who I am, of course.”
“Of course,” the man murmured with an ominous little smile that sent bugs crawling up Hake’s spine.
“I’m afraid we’re not likely to get much service from the waiters until the show’s over or I’d offer you a drink,” Hake murmured to the man in Arabic. “The girl’s got the staff mesmerized.”
“She’s not half bad for an infidel whore.”
Hake bristled but checked the reaction quickly. He dared not appear sympathetic to anything or anyone western around this man. He studied his guest. The man was perhaps forty-five years old, his body and face starting to sag. Most of his hair was gone, but he had a heavy, black five-o’clock shadow. His eyes…ah, his eyes were sharp. Didn’t miss a thing.
Hake glanced up and noticed Cassandra looking at him from across the restaurant. She frowned and her glance slid to the man at his table and back to him, almost as if she were silently asking if everything was okay. He nodded slightly and gave her a little smile. She did an odd thing then, ducking her chin toward her right shoulder and mouthing something. Was that aimed at him or was she speaking to a patron near her, perhaps? He’d probably been looking at her long enough. No sense drawing his companion’s attention to her any more than necessary.
He turned back to the man beside him. “I understand we have a mutual acquaintance, Jabar.”
“Yes, we do. He passes along his greetings and hopes that everything goes well for you.”
“Indeed, it does. My father’s company made a significant sale this week and is hard at work preparing to make the delivery. It is always good to have plenty of work to do.”
Jabar nodded. “Our friend has also been busy. Although, he has run into a snag in a business dealing of his own. It seems a seller has set an unreasonably high price for a product he very much wishes to procure.”
Hake’s gaze narrowed. The jerk was here to haggle over the price of the machine? He took a slow sip of his drink and reminded himself that his life rode on not pissing off this man. “In this weak global economy, El Aran Industries has made the decision to take no profit but merely cover the costs of production and paying our workers. My family has enough wealth and does not need more. It is the least we can do to assure our employees remain employed and our customers not only happy but in business.”
Jabar leaned forward, studying him intently. “Truly? You sell your goods at cost?”
Hake met the man’s eyes squarely. “Absolutely. It is the right thing to do, is it not?”
Jabar pursed his lips. “It is a wise decision. Very wise, indeed. But there is no margin that can be cut at all?”
Hake spread his hands open in apology. “None. I wish there were. But were we to sell our equipment below cost, it would surely attract the attention of government regulators. And we try to avoid upsetting them as much as possible. You understand.”
Jabar nodded but didn’t look happy. Not the answer he’d wanted. It was a calculated risk not to play ball with this guy’s request for a price break. But Hake sensed that any show of weakness now would lead to further exploitation by the terrorists later. Hake did add in a conciliating tone. “When you next see our friend, by all means pass on my family’s greetings and best wishes.”
Jabar nodded once. If Hake was reading him correctly, the guy seemed to have relaxed fractionally. God willing, their business was concluded and the guy would leave now.
Sure enough, Jabar stood up, disregarding Cassandra, who was moving back toward the stage and about to pass by their table. She pulled up quickly but still brushed into the man. Jabar muttered a rather foul epithet at her in Arabic, which Hake sincerely hoped she didn’t understand. As it was, he had to clench his teeth and hang on to his temper not to react to the insult.
Jabar stalked past her and Cassandra moved forward smoothly. As she passed Hake’s chair, she murmured, “You all right?”
“Yes. You?” he replied.
She whirled out onto the stage, flourished her finger cymbals, and laughed in his direction. He’d take that as an “I’m fine.”
The rest of the show passed in a blur. His thoughts were in turmoil from the visit by Jabar. He second- and third-guessed his refusal to bargain on the price and prayed he hadn’t just gotten himself and his family killed. They were, indeed, selling the machine at cost, and he hadn’t been lying that discounting the price beyond that would have drawn the attention of all the wrong kinds of people. This deal had to look just like any other deal El Aran Industries did every day.
Whether Cassandra sensed his distraction or not, he didn’t know. But he did know she ended her show with a steamy number that she aimed squarely at him, much to the envy of most of the men in the crowd. If her intent was to recapture his full attention, the tactic worked spectacularly.
Casey had barely cleared the kitchen doors before she was on the radio with her teammates.
“Anyone get a picture of the guy who sat down with H
ake?”
Roxi answered. “I got one. Sent it to H.O.T. Watch immediately. They haven’t ID’d him yet.”
“Let me know when they do,” Casey replied. She continued, “Did someone follow that man out of here? Something wasn’t right about him.”
Alex’s terse voice answered low, “Cho and I are on him. He left the restaurant, walked about a block east of there and entered the back of a step van parked on a side street. The vehicle has not moved since. Too bad we don’t have a full surveillance setup. I’d love to hear the phone conversations emanating from that van right about now.”
Monica answered tightly, “I’d like to have an infrared scanner and see what’s going on inside that van. I don’t like it at all.”
Roxi piped up, “Maybe Hake’s associate is relaying information to someone and then plans to come back in the restaurant and continue speaking with Hake.”
Casey didn’t like the sound of any of this. What had that man said to make Hake so tense, and why had the fellow left so abruptly? It had been clear that the guy wasn’t happy with whatever Hake had said to him. But Hake had indicated to her that everything was okay. Maybe she was worrying too much about him.
That made her sit up straight and stare at herself in her dressing-room mirror. Since when did she have a personal interest in Hake’s well-being? Irritated with herself, she went through her usual between-show ritual of drinking water, eating a tablespoon of peanut butter, repairing her makeup and stretching again.
“Ten minutes, Miss Cassandra,” someone called through her door.
“Thank you,” she called back. Time to don the risqué serpent gown and blow Hake’s mind. She eased the garment over her head and smoothed it down her body. Its weight pulled the gown into a skin-hugging fit against her body. Wow. Nowhere to hide any flaws in this puppy. Thankfully, though, the high neck allowed her to thread a wire around from behind and nestle a microphone unobtrusively just inside the neckline of the gown. Not that she thought anyone would be looking at her neck in this thing.
In sudden inspiration, she reached for her hangers of veils and commenced wrapping three-yard-long lengths of rainbow-colored silk around herself and tucking in the ends to secure them. The traditional dance of the seven veils required the dancer to shed all her veils and end up naked. It was actually a burlesque tradition and not an ancient one belonging to folkloric Middle Eastern dance. But it would serve her purposes tonight. Hake wasn’t going to know what had hit him when she was through with him.
She checked in one last time with her teammates. “Any I.D. on Hake’s guest?”
“Nope,” Alex replied. “No movement at the van either. No telling what the guy’s doing in there. Cho moved in closer for a look, but there’s a curtain behind the front seat and the back windows are painted over. She spent a few minutes under the van. But other than the fact that it’s got a transmission leak, she learned nothing. All was quiet inside it.”
Monica asked in alarm, “She’s not still under the van, is she?”
Alex replied, “Negative. Cho’s back with me.”
“Okay, then,” Casey replied. “It’s about time for my show. Give me a warning if that man heads back to the restaurant even if I’m dancing.”
“Worried about your guy?” Monica asked quietly.
“Honestly, yes. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
Monica replied reassuringly, “We’ll be right here. Roxi, Naraya and I will be at our table, and we’ve got a clear sight line on the front door. Alex and Cho will keep an eye on Hake’s contact. You do your thing and don’t worry. We’ve got you covered.”
“And by the way,” Naraya murmured, “your first show was wonderful. It’s a pleasure to watch you dance.”
Coming from a Middle Easterner, that was a fine compliment. Casey murmured, “Thanks. I needed that.”
The manager knocked on her door. “It’s time, Cassandra.”
Time, indeed.
She glided through the darkened restaurant and stepped into the lone spotlight. The audience gasped appreciatively. They knew a veil dance was coming, and she enjoyed dancing for a knowledgeable crowd. She could really cut loose with the difficult, subtle stuff and be assured that they would get it.
The musicians—also not slow on the uptake—shifted immediately into a sexy melody perfect for seduction. She turned her back on Hake and began the slow striptease. Looking at him directly while she did this would have posed two problems: one, she didn’t know if she could keep her composure and not lose her nerve; and two, this sort of dance was so provocative she risked embarrassing or offending Hake if she came on to him too strongly in public.
But when she got down to the last veil, a length of black silk wrapped around and around her body, she couldn’t resist. She moved over to Hake and offered him the end of the veil. Then, as he held it, she began turning slowly away from him, revealing herself and the magnificent serpent gown to him by inches.
He got a look at the costume before anyone else, and his gaze blazed in response. He looked up at her and the promise was clear in his eyes. He planned to have her and there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about it. Her insides quivered in response and anticipation leaped in her heart. Seriously? Was she really that attracted to him? Shock joined the desire zinging through her.
She’d expected a strong reaction from him, but she was blown away by the intensity of his response. Well, all right, then. She’d played with fire. What did she expect? His gaze raked down the costume and back up it again, and she all but moaned aloud.
He nodded slowly. Appreciatively. Possessively. And her knees went weak.
She registered vaguely that the rest of the restaurant was going wild, cheering and whistling and shouting compliments at her in a half-dozen languages. She smiled and held her arms out to them all. But she danced for Hake. He was the one who lit the fire in her belly, the one who made her limbs feel boneless and heavy, who made her breasts ache and her body long for the weight of him.
The result of turning how he made her feel into dance movements was incendiary. Even the musicians grinned and nodded their approval at her as the energy climbed higher and higher in the room. Money poured like water onto the stage and a waiter had to be permanently stationed at the corner of the stage with a push broom to sweep it up. Not that she paid much attention to such things, but thousands of dollars landed on the floor at her feet. Even after she split it with the band, she would have a profitable night. The women’s shelter she donated her earnings to was in for a windfall.
“Van’s opening,” Alex announced in her ear, throwing abrupt cold water on her jubilant mood. “One man emerging. Late twenties. Middle Eastern at a glance. Five foot nine. Medium build. Long black raincoat. Jeans. Black tennis shoes. Heading west.”
Crud. That was back toward the restaurant. Casey’s smile slipped a notch. She signaled the musicians to slow it down and shift into a folk dance, its traditional movements easy to do. She recruited women from the audience to stand up and dance, freeing her to move around the place. What the heck was going on with Hake’s contacts?
“Here he comes,” Monica murmured. “Just walked in.”
Casey maneuvered so she could spot the guy. No big surprise, he looked around once and then headed straight for Hake. Candlelight from a table he passed illuminated his features. He looked as if he was about to kill someone. His eyes were grim, focused. Dead. She looked down at the guy’s coat. It was a warm night out. No need for something that heavy. Unless…
Swearing under her breath, she moved fast, racing toward Hake. She cut across the stage, which gave her an advantage over the young man in the coat because he was forced to wend his way between the tables.
“What’s wrong, Scorpion?” Monica bit out.
Casey spotted her three teammates rising, alarmed, from their table in the corner.
She opened her mouth to respond, but just then the man unbuttoned his coat. She saw what was beneath and took a running dive.
“Hake!” she screamed.
Chapter 6
H ake’s mind went blank as Cassandra slammed into him, knocking both him and his chair over sideways and rolling him under a table all in one violent movement. They came to a stop just as a second impact hit, this one much bigger, much heavier. It flattened him like an elephant had stepped on him.
Brilliant light, heat, then deafening noise and flying debris, and then the first screams registered. His ears rang. Cassandra’s weight was upon him. Her voice yelled urgently. Something about a perp. And a security perimeter. And then she was yelling at him over a cacophony of screams and shouts. “Hake! Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so. What the hell happened?”
“Bomb. C’mon. We’ve got to go.”
“We have to call the police and help the wounded!” he retorted.
“There’s no time to be a hero. We have to get you to safety before someone comes back to finish the job!”
“What job?”
“Killing you,” she grunted as she pushed off him and into a crouch. “Stay low and stick by me,” she yelled over the chaos. Sirens wailed nearby. And then a spray of water, cold and shocking, hit him from overhead. Fire sprinklers.
He sat up, looking around in disbelief at the demolished side of the restaurant. The back wall of the stage was obliterated. It looked as if a tornado had struck that one spot. The front of the club was damaged but not destroyed like the area immediately around him. What the hell? A bomb? Why wasn’t he blown to bits along with everyone else in here? He opened his mouth to explain that she must be mistaken, but she cut him off urgently. “Let’s go.” She dragged him to his feet, put her hand on the top of his head and hustled him toward the kitchen.
“The exit’s that way—”
She interrupted. “Sniper may be waiting out front to pick you off. We’ll use the back door.”
She spun into the kitchen low and fast in a move that looked suspiciously military. She waved to him to follow her. And then a tall, elegant blonde woman materialized by his right elbow. He started, but before he could say anything, he became aware of another woman on his left. He lurched in surprise. “Who are you?”