Sweet Vengeance: Ladies (Iron Orchids Book 14)

by Danielle Norman

  The breeze whipped through her hair, the branches of the shrub poked into her skin, but nothing was going to make her pull away. She couldn't believe that she was acting so scandalous, so unprofessional, so Adeline.

  That last thought made her smile.

  Bo didn't break their connection as he opened one eye to stare at her. Sunday wondered if his father had walked past yet.

  "Your dad?" She tried to whisper around his lips that were still on hers.

  "He's right behind you," Bo whispered against Sunday's lips before resuming his assault on her mouth.

  Sunday used these last few seconds, however long she had to examine him, feel him, how firm were his muscles, his chest? She ran one hand along the placket of his shirt, her fingers lightly slipping between the buttons to touch his undershirt. She had been expecting warm skin. The disappointment was like picking up a glass and expecting to drink soda, but after you swallowed, discovering it was plain ole water. It was startling enough to pull Sunday back to her senses. She looked up and realized that Kai was long gone and her cheeks turned a rosy pink. Bo noticeably stiffened. He must have been bracing himself for her rising anger. But she refused to give it to him--she had wanted that kiss just as much. Instead, she let out a huff and marched off, no shouts, no witty comebacks, nothing.

  "Come on, Sunday, please. You can't tell me you didn't like it. It was wonderful. Admit it. I mean . . . I liked it. I wanted to kiss you. I've been wanting to kiss you."

  Sunday still didn't say a word, not even when they got back to their room. She wasn't going to admit it, over her dead body. She headed straight to her suite, kicking off her shoes along the way and slipping out of her linen jacket. Bo ran around her and passed Sunday as she moved toward her bed. He plopped down on the edge, his elbows holding him up, his legs dangling off the side. But she ignored him, instead she moved to her closet as if he didn't exist.

  "Please, you can't tell me you haven't been feeling something."

  "I think that's called gas," Sunday snapped.

  "You're lying." Bo chuckled.

  "I'm not lying."

  "Yes, you are. If you're going to say you haven't felt anything, then you're lying. I felt the way your body softened against mine. Admit it." Bo stood from the bed and moved toward her.

  "What are you staring at?" Sunday asked, her voice rising an octave. Bo didn't answer. "Why are you coming near me?" He still didn't answer. Sunday backed up just as Bo lowered his shoulders then lowered his head in a football position as if going in for the tackle.

  "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Stop." Sunday wanted to scream, but Bo didn't stop. When Sunday's back hit the wall. Bo kept moving until he was against her, his hands on either side of her. She was locked, his body pressing against hers. She felt his erection and everything she'd been doing to him, and he lowered his mouth once again. It was just him kissing her.

  Once again Sunday acquiesced, letting him in to taste her. Her body was forcing her to admit what he'd been accusing her of all along--that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

  With a quick sweep, he bent down and picked her up in his arms and carried her back to the bed. He started at her ankles and slowly trailed his fingers up her legs, peppering kisses up the inside of her thighs, her skirt slowly sliding up until he was almost to that apex.

  Sunday placed both hands on his shoulders and pushed. "Bo. No, we can't."

  "Oh, yes, we can."

  "You're a client. I can't."

  "I didn't hire you.”

  "Your mom did."

  "Exactly. My mom did.”

  "Bo, this isn't right."

  "Oh, it is so right. You can't tell me you haven't wanted this."

  "Bo, please."

  Her words reached him, and she could tell the moment that moral compass of his told him to stop. "God, you are the most beautiful, adorable woman I've ever laid eyes on." He pushed himself off the bed. "Sleep tight. I'll see you in the morning."

  Bo

  When Bo woke the next morning, he found Sunday already dressed, holding a cup of coffee and peering into the lens of her camera.

  "Anything interesting?" Bo asked as he walked over to the kitchen area to fix a mug.

  "Well, if you consider that all five men, your father included, ending up in bed with several women last night, than yes, there are plenty of interesting things that happened. Oh, did I mention that none of them are the same women from yesterday? Bo, I have a bad feeling about this. These women look awful young . . . if they're legal adults, then I wouldn't put them as much older than eighteen."

  "Me too, something doesn't feel right."

  "And you can tell that each man has a clear preference for looks."

  "What do you mean?" Bo took a sip, it was still nice and hot.

  "Your dad clearly likes red-heads based on the woman from yesterday, the woman this morning and several he had during the night." Bo cringed at Sunday's words. "The one you said was named Dallas, I think, he is into blondes. Unfortunately, I had to see exactly how into them he was."

  "Oh god, I'm sorry."

  "They're all up and moving around, so you might want to get ready too."

  Bo went to get dressed, mainly because he needed a second to wrap his mind around the idea that his father had cheated on his mother last night and they had proof of it.

  He stood under the scorching hot water flowing over his body. Maybe it would wake him up and make him realize that sharing a room with Sunday Prescott was a big mistake. The woman had no clue that her innocence was a turn on, making her a bit beguiling. He was allowing the lower half to think for the upper half. But he needed to relieve this pressure, this ache he had for that infuriating woman.

  Thoughts of her fiery temper and her bright smile filled his mind as he slid his hand down his growing penis. Squeezing the base, he released a guttural moan. The water sloshing over him aided him as he stroked from the shaft upward, his thumb capturing at the underside of the head.

  Her laughter. He stroked slowly and steadily and then quickened.

  Her damn scent. He stroked faster as the release built inside him. The way her lips felt on his. The storm that had brewed inside him thundered out with each thrust of his hips into the air, no warm woman, no Sunday.

  The heavy knocking on the door was like a dousing of ice water as he stood in the still steaming waterfall.

  "Bo, hurry up. They look like they are ready to leave."

  "Got it." His embarrassment over what he had just been doing was genuine, and he slammed off the spray.

  He rushed to get ready, ten minutes later, he and Sunday were walking out of the suite.

  "Here." Sunday shoved a Tampa Bay Buccaneers hat to him. "Put your sunglasses on too."

  "I'm not a hat person," Bo explained.

  "And we run a larger chance of one of them recognizing you without a hat than we do with a hat. Put it on."

  "This isn't very stealthy." Bo was teasing her, okay, he was aggravating her and he knew it, but this was boring as hell.

  "Send a text to the driver please, have him meet us out front."

  "Yes, ma'am. Anything else I can do for you, ma'am?" He let out a bark of laughter as she scowled.

  "Yeah," Sunday whispered through clenched teeth. "You can knock off the attitude. We are here to find out what he's doing, and we can't do that if you keep drawing attention to yourself. Now, act like you give a shit about your company and text your driver . . . please."

  Bo pulled out his phone and sent a text with one hand as he steered the cart with the other. Sunday had her phone out and was snapping photos. Bo slowed as the men they were following pulled their carts into a parking area and then moved over to two limousines.

  "What are you taking pictures of, they are already in the car?" Bo asked. Sunday flipped her phone toward him so he could see, but she didn't look happy at all that he was asking questions, which was the complete opposite of how she had acted yesterday.

  "I'm not s
ure how many black limos are around this area, so this way we know that we are always following the right one."

  It was so reasonable he hated himself for not thinking of it first. "Why are you so snappy today?"

  "I'm not snappy. Today is a workday for me and you're treating it like a vacation. You got up late, took a forty-five minute shower, and are joking around like you don't care if your dad hears you. Good god, what were you doing in there?"

  Bo raised one eyebrow just to see if Sunday would blush, and damn it, she did, and he loved it--or rather, his dick did.

  "I don't want to hear about it, I'm working."

  Once the limos had pulled out of the parking lot, Bo and Sunday dashed toward their waiting town car and slid in.

  "Keep those limos in sight, just stay back so they don't see us. Okay?"

  "Yes, Miss," the driver answered as he pulled into the flow of traffic. The entire whole of the Cayman Islands was smaller than Orlando, so it hadn't taken long for Bo to learn his way around.

  "Looks like they're probably headed over to the Royal Bank," Bo informed Sunday. "Stay on Esterly Tibbetts and pass the bank, can you find a parking area just down the street so we can keep them in sight, okay?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Sunday

  Laptop open, Sunday was logged into Camden Financial's connection to the Royal Bank. "Your family has a personal account here?"

  "The business does, yes," Bo answered.

  "No, I mean a personal one. I have the business info."

  "I don't think so."

  One at a time, the men went into the bank, but there was always someone staying back in the cars with the women. It bothered Sunday because she couldn't figure it out, this whole thing had a familiar vibe about it.

  She rolled her neck and then stretched her back as she tried to get comfortable in the closed confines of the car, staying in her small area and not broaching Bo was somewhat difficult.

  "You want to just stay here and watch?" Bo asked as he glanced down at his Philippe Patek watch.

  Sunday opened her laptop and set up a scan. "Crap," she hissed.

  "What?"

  "Their hacker realized someone is scanning and blocked me."

  "They have a hacker?"

  "All banks have hackers on staff, they pay them big bucks to do nothing but continually improve their defenses and block when their walls are broken."

  "So what now?" Bo asked looking like someone had just stolen his lollipop.

  "I keep trying. The secret is to hit the wall in between their hacker's defense." Sunday loved doing this part of her job, it was like a video game. I t seemed as if she had spent hours to no avail.

  "Hey, look." Bo tapped her shoulder and pointed to where Kai and Dallas, the last man who had joined him inside were both now walking out.

  The cars pulled back onto the street and once again they followed.

  Sunday turned her focus to the Camden Financial bank accounts. "Ummm, I mentioned this to your mom but did you know your dad has a private server?"

  "Where? At home?"

  "No, at the office. I found it."

  "What's it used for?"

  "Well, up until now I thought it was an extension of Camden Financial."

  Bo stared at her, "You don't think that anymore?"

  "Nope, because the Camden Financial account on that server just transferred two point five million dollars to another account."

  "To what account?" Bo demanded.

  "I'm not sure. All I have are wire transfer numbers. It takes a little bit to figure all of that out, give me a few."

  They pulled out and tailed Kai and the other car while Sunday continued typing.

  "Do you have any idea where they're going now?" She asked as they wove down small side streets into an older area of the island.

  "No clue, never been to this section." Bo glanced around before directing the driver where to go. "Hey, are you familiar with this area?"

  "Sure, lots of old bars and cigar shops."

  "Does your dad smoke?" Sunday asked.

  "Not that I know of but then there's a lot that it seems I don't know about him."

  "Ah, they be going to Sabers, no one gets into Sabers unless they know you." The driver said as he passed by the bar. They turned to peer out the back of the car and watched as the men and this time the women climbed out and headed inside. The driver made a U-turn and found a parking spot within good viewing distance of the bar.

  "Tell us, what do you know about Sabers?" Sunday asked.

  "Nothing, it is the best kept secret on the Island. No one talks about it. All I know is that you have to have a membership but I don't even know how you get one."

  "How long has it been here?"

  "Ah, as long as I can remember."

  "Who owns it?" Bo asked.

  "I think different people. Cause every now and then it changes, you know? Like the name doesn't change but the look of it does." Bo and Sunday locked eyes, Sunday shrugged not sure she knew at all. "It goes years and you think it is a gentlemen’s club, then years and you think it is a cigar bar, when I was a boy I thought it was a refuge for those that had made it out of south of Cuba seeking the United States."

  Sunday turned to Bo. "I want to try and get in." Sunday reached into her bag and pulled out her jewelry, her Iron Ladies jewelry, she switched out the earrings she had been wearing for the microphone ones that Melanie had given her and then fastened the pendant and chain around her neck. "Don't ask." Was all she said to Bo.

  "Allow me." Bo got out of the car and held out one hand to assist Sunday Mimicking the men, that had preceded them, he placed one hand at the base of her back and pushed her toward the front door. "Am I walking too fast?"

  "No, you're fine."

  "I'm just trying to do like my dad--"

  Sunday cut him off, "I get it, I totally understand."

  Without breaking their stride, they headed for the front door, it was in sight. A few more steps . . .

  An arm the size of a tree trunk dropped down in front of them, barring the door like a gate. The only word was a soft, "No."

  "No?" Bo asked in his most pretentious voice. "I'm with my father Kai Camden, he just went in there."

  "No guests allowed. She, she can go in." The burly man scanned Sunday up and down.

  Bo's grip tightened but so did Sunday's resolve, this was her job. The girls were counting on her.

  Sunday was in her standard Iron Ladies uniform.

  Killer heels on? Check.

  Hair done to perfection? Check.

  Skirt to show off her legs? Check.

  One thing that made Sunday feel confident was the fact that she was always armed, this made her feel as though she was ready to meet whatever came her way.

  Bo's grip tightened. "I don't want you going in there alone."

  "And I don't have a choice, I have a job to do, one that I've been hired to do. One that you've been encroaching on," Sunday replied sotto voce.

  She wiggled out of his hold and stepped into Sabers. Instantly heads swung in her direction and Sunday had an ominous vibe, like any instant hands were going to reach up and peel her clothes off, greedy hands. Their looks were inquisitive as if taking in the new meat, she was out of place but put on a brave face.

  Sabers was not what she had expected, wide open spaces, nice seating, and busy bartenders. A loud groan came from the lounge area where she saw a few guys sagged back in their seats mumbling curses at something that she couldn't see. It was too dark in that area. So she took a seat at the bar, directly across from the lounge, it gave her a good view so she could scan the entire area. As she took a seat a black-clad bartender came over. He was older, dark haired and sported a nice smile. "Hey, can I get you something, darlin'?"

  His Southern drawl was a bit unusual in the Cayman, but she found it interesting. "Yes, a Bellini, please.”

  "Coming right up."

  While he was gone she looked around and noted that there were a few guys along the
length of the bar, a splattering of women, all in twos and threes and chatting to themselves. But Sunday's focus was caught on the wall because, from where she sat, she'd bet it was one-way glass. She was dying to find out what or who was on the other side.

  A low, deep voice carried across the crowd, "Up next, blonde, blue, opening at one point, five." Something about those words struck an ominous chord in Sunday's psyche. Where had she heard them?

  "Here you go." The bartender slid her drink over to her.

  Sunday sipped and scanned, taking in every sight and sound. Several women parked at the back of the room, it sort of reminded her of Historic romance books when they referenced wallflowers.

  Amongst the hubbub of the noise, the groans of the men in the far, dark corner, she faintly heard the deep voice again. "Closing at two point one, seven to five-nine-two-three dash seven-six dash two-three-four-three dash nine-eight dash zero-two-three-two-three." Sunday shook her head trying to replay all of those numbers. Thank god she had put her jewelry on, she could replay it later. "In ten minutes, opening at two point five, black, green." Ice. That was it, ice. Sunday knew exactly where she had heard all of this before. Earlier this year, Bridget, a friend of hers. Oh my god, Sunday had to get out of here.

  "Seems like tonight may be your night."

  "Uhh?" Sunday turned to face the bartender who was speaking to her, he whistled and Sunday followed his direction.

  A man was approaching her. He wasn't exactly what she would call ugly, but he was definitely what she would call smarmy. He was dressed similarly to how Kai and the others had been dressed . . . in a business suit . . . in a bar.

  "Who do you belong to?" the gentleman asked.

  What the holy heck, she needed to think quick. If she was right and this was like Bridget, then these men were buying women--no, not buying, trafficking. Sex slaves.

  Sunday threw the only name out that she could think of. "I belong to Kai Camden." He handed her his card before walking away.

  "Give that to Kai."

  "Of course," Sunday answered as she took the card with shaky hands.