by Julie Castle
Chapter Four
Bridget soaked up the tropical sunshine as Condor drove them toward the compound in one of the Retreat’s courtesy SUVs. They traveled down the two-lane road leading away from the island’s private airstrip. She was nude under the gossamer thin blue silk caftan Condor had given her to put on this morning. His words—Sex slaves at the Retreat are kept nude—replayed across her mind. So why had he dressed her? It felt so weird, and somehow right, to be this man’s pampered sex slave. Not that she’d gotten the fringe benefits of simulated sex. She’d spent a restless night aching for him.
The air was heavy with exotic floral perfume from the riot of tropical blooms that grew in wild abandon along the road. The sun shone warm against her newly sensitized skin. She barely noticed the lush tropical surroundings as the silk gown slipped sensuously against her bare skin. Her breasts ached, the tips puckered, and her arousal instantly reignited. She hissed with delight and cut a glance at Condor to see if he’d noticed.
Dressed in a tailored business suit, clean-shaven, his hair slicked back, he looked like a different man than the biker who’d spanked her. He even held himself a little differently, less casual, more stiff and formal. Damn, the man was good. Now she saw why he was considered a ghost: the man was a chameleon. Could change his appearance and his personality and blend in anywhere.
There were dark circles under his eyes, though. He seemed tired, like he’d spent a restless night, too. It made her feel a little softer toward him. They both had a job to do, and this wasn’t personal.
She decided that he drove like he did because that was how he did everything. Very intensely. He seemed to be scanning the uninhabited jungle they were driving through very carefully, maybe looking for snipers. That would fit what she’d heard about his past combat missions.
“So are you finally going to brief me? You know, in case someone asks me our names. That way I won’t stand there going ‘duh’.”
His lips twitched. “I’m businessman and hotel magnate Jason Welch. You are my private secretary slash submissive, sugar.”
She sat there and waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she huffed out a breath. “So I take it you’re a horny workaholic who likes to mix business and pleasure?” His smirk made her toes curl. Who knew the man actually had a sense of humor?
“Something like that. I just can’t get enough.”
“And what kind of secretarial gear have you provided me with?” His surprised look made her want to brain him. Some way to sell her cover. No doubt he was fully equipped to fight a small war despite the fact that she didn’t see any weapons on him, and she had nothing.
“A pencil and steno pad. What more do you need?”
“If they’re half as clever as we think they are, they’re going to expect your secretary to know her way around a computer at least.” The fact that this caught him so off kilter made her scowl. This secretarial bit was obviously a last minute thing, and she had a demoralizing idea why. “And was Jennifer going to pose as a secretary, too?” His glance told her no. He obviously found her so unsexy he’d given her another layer to sell her pose. How humiliating, but she wasn’t going to let him see how it hurt her. “Give me your phone,” she demanded and held out her hand.
“What?”
She rolled her eyes when he looked at her like she’d gone rogue. “I know what I need to sell my identity.” His suspicious look when he handed the phone over spoke volumes. It was the standard issue mission smart phone. Totally untraceable. She ought to know, having helped design it. She took out the SIM card and flipped it over and ripped off a tab, a little sleight of hand that made his eyes narrow. She punched in her code and put it on speaker, knowing Condor wouldn’t trust her.
“Bridget, where the hell are you?” a breathy female voice demanded.
Bridget heard the worry in Tara’s voice and hurried to reassure her. “It’s okay, Tara, I’m on a case. I need you to send Jericho Junior and a laptop stat.” She smirked and added, “Throw in a few steno pads and pencils, too. I’ll need secretarial stuff related to hotel management…”
“And acquisitions,” Condor said.
“Oh, my god, is that who I think it is? Dino the sexy dinosaur?”
Bridget winced when his eyes widened. Her brilliant friend never had a thought she didn’t have to express, or an off button. She rolled her eyes at Condor. Yeah, you’ve been talked about, stud. Get over it!
At her silence, Tara let out a little sound of distress. “Sorry. But damn girl, are you sure you’re ready to put your prototype to the test?” Tara asked.
“I’m sure,” she said. “Send it to Dino’s LZ. I’m sure he has a cache set up nearby, seeing that he’s not carrying,” she said. His eyes widened with grudging approval. She might not be the agent he was, but she had her strengths. “And thanks.”
She hung up, flipped the SIM card back to erase the record of the call, and then downloaded the tracking app she’d need. If Condor was right and she’d be kept naked, he’d have to be part of her tech team. How could she make it easy to understand?
She started the app and then thrust the phone back at Condor. “Notice the blip on the screen?” she asked. He gave her a duh look in reply. Undaunted, she went on. “It’s my new micro tracker. It works on a frequency they shouldn’t be able to pick up.” She brushed her hair aside to point out the microdots along her hairline. “If I spot Perez, I’ll tag him for you, and I won’t need a gun to do it.” His speculative look as he took it made her wonder what he was thinking.
Finally, he smirked and said, “Dino the sexy dinosaur?”
He would focus on that, wouldn’t he? “Don’t let it go to your head. It was a slow day in the lab when we thought it up.”
“I take it that was Titanic Tara from the IT lab. Responsible for sinking more missions before they started than an iceberg.”
“Halting more dumbass missions, you mean. If field agents used their brains instead of going off with guns blazing, she wouldn’t have that stupid nickname.”
“I agree, you guys have saved my ass on a few memorable occasions.”
Mollified, she looked down, took a deep breath, and tried to focus. Sunlight glinted off the slave bracelet on her wrist, and her thoughts drifted back to the shocking moment he’d clapped it on her. Of course, that stunner was nothing compared to the eroticism of being draped over his knee last night. She squeezed her legs together as her sex rippled, unfulfilled, and she tried to ignore her lingering arousal and prepare for the task ahead.
She’d have to strip naked to enter the compound. Just the thought shook her down to her toes. She wouldn’t be able to hide her fevered state from Condor, or anyone else for that matter. It didn’t matter, she had a mission to complete and James to avenge. But funny, sitting next to Condor, she couldn’t quite bring the mental image of James into focus, as if he’d never been real. The disloyal thought made her take a moment to refocus on the tasks at hand. Mission, vengeance, and redemption. And don’t screw Condor. The fact that she’d be naked ought to be a non-event to a true field agent. She’d just have to endure the embarrassment and get on with the job.
Condor pointed ahead of them. “Get ready. We’re almost there.”
She flicked a wary look out the window, but as they pulled up, she saw nothing alarming to show that their cover had been blown. Everything looked perfect—a private tropical island with an airstrip and resort. There was nothing to set it apart from any other exotic locale, except that they were heading to a sex club, on a private island west of the Bahamas. If she hadn’t peeked at the file last night, she’d have no idea where they were heading.
She cast an acerbic look Condor’s way. The man definitely didn’t work well with others. She couldn’t afford to forget that.
Maybe a few of those tropical drinks in a coconut shell would help her come to terms with the frustrating role she had to play. A natural submissive she wasn’t, but she’d walk through fire to get their quarry. Condor looked a
t her, and she forgot to breathe for a moment as she tingled in reaction and remembered her spanking. How did a woman get over something like that? Her hand automatically crept between her thighs.
“Ah, ah, don’t touch. That doesn’t belong to you anymore.”
She froze and looked at him, shocked at both the statement and the fact that he knew what she was doing. “I beg your pardon,” she said in disbelief.
He smiled. “You’ll beg all right, but it won’t be for that. Now, do you remember your safeword?”
What, did he think she was an idiot or so overwhelmed by lust that she couldn’t recall a simple word? “Of course I do.”
He quirked a brow. “Oh, yeah?”
She bared her teeth at him. Was this his way of giving her a last way out? She wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or touched and decided to go for a bit of both. It fit her stormy mood. “It’s cherry, and no, I won’t be using it any time soon. Just so I know, what’s your safeword?” The startled look on his face made her smile.
“Dom’s don’t require safewords.”
“That’s what you think,” she said, feeling just a little bit smug that she had the power to startle him, to make him break character. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, stud.”
“Sugar, don’t start something we’ll both regret. We’re both still simmering from last night’s encounter, but it doesn’t mean we have to do anything about it.”
Both still simmering, huh? An intrigued glance at his crotch did indeed show a definite bulge under the pants of his linen business suit. At least she wasn’t the only one who’d had a restless night. She glanced back up at his frowning face as he went silent. Obviously, he’d said more than he intended to, and she was glad to find a chink in his armor. Her hungry gaze once more drifted down to the hard-on under his suit trousers.
“Keeping you sexually hungry is my top priority,” he said and flicked a hot gaze at her budded nipples against the silk. “Your arousal might help mask your complete ineptitude for this job.”
She glared at him. The moment she softened toward him, he said or did something that infuriated her.
Complete ineptitude? Of all the nerve!
“At least I’m stepping out of my comfort zone to complete this mission, which is more than I can say for you, stud,” she said, under her breath. With his controlling ways, he was well equipped to play his role as a Dom. Was he called to do this for the agency often? How many women had he trained? The questions still plagued her, but she bit her lip to keep from asking them. He was keeping this professional, and her pride as an agent would let her do no less.
He chuckled. “Good, you’re at your best angry. Keep thinking about kicking my ass, and we might actually make it out of this alive.”
“Asshole,” she murmured. The palm trees whizzed by as they drove along the high-stacked stone wall surrounding the compound. A little bit farther in was a gated service entrance on the east wall. That could be a possible route of egress if they disabled the attendant and the security camera. Anything was better than looking at the ghost agent who made her want to fuck him and kill him at the same time. His reference to danger wasn’t lost on her. No matter how good Delta Star intelligence was, there were always unforeseen obstacles.
Condor turned into the winding shell drive that led to the Retreat.
“One more thing. Remember, when we go in, you must enter nude.”
She rolled her eyes at his patient tone. “I have an excellent memory, Condor. You’d know that if you ever chose to share secrets.”
“How about sharing a few of yours?” he shot back at her.
She gaped at him. “I don’t have any secrets anymore, not since last night.”
“I’m not talking about sexual secrets. What about that personal connection to the case that Bran spoke about?”
She sighed, feeling vulnerable with his inquisitive gaze focused on her. “The agent that was killed was a personal friend of mine, that’s all,” she said, noting his doubtful gaze. He read her lie like a pro, but she couldn’t bring herself to talk about James or their rocky relationship.
“Have it your way. But know this, I won’t allow your personal feelings to affect the job that I have to do.”
“No problem,” she said, knowing that it was very personal. “Strutting around in my birthday suit, won’t I get mixed up with all the other naked women?” she asked to change the subject, and she flashed him an impish grin.
He gave her a wicked chuckle. “The bracelet marks you as mine, sweetheart,” he murmured. “And I’ve got a few other goodies that will set you aside from the other girls.” He pulled up in front of the gatehouse, let the engine idle, and turned to look at her. “You foul up and it’s worse than us getting fired. Worse than us even dying. Perez slips through our fingers, and you lose that justice you’re desperate for. So behave.”
She knew the stakes as well as he did. More so. But his words sobered her. She opened her car door without another word. Her bare feet touched the ground, and her toes curled into the warm white sand. She sighed as the heat seeped into her body, warming her and giving her strength. She could do this.
Two uniformed attendants came out of the gatehouse. One look told her they moved with the fluid, aggressive stride of trained soldiers, and were discreetly armed to the teeth. Their Uzis blended in with their black slacks. The first to reach them was an older man with a silver flattop who gave them a thorough, incisive once over. Bridget scanned the gold nametag on his black vest. Max. When he cracked a brittle smile and approached Condor, she sighed, relieved that they’d passed muster.
She kept her focus on the other man. He was younger, swarthy, and ogled her with a lascivious grin. The punk winked at her, leering, before he opened the trunk to get out their bags. His nametag read Ramón. Bridget pasted on a practiced flirtatious smile and fought back any hostile reaction. They’d made it through the first hurdle. A glance at Condor’s relaxed posture, while he tipped Flattop, reflected the same positive feeling. At least they were on the same wavelength there.
The light crunch of footsteps on the path told her someone was coming. A second later, a willowy blond woman came through the gateway with a clipboard in her hand. She was in her mid-thirties, her hair swept up in an elegant twist, and was wearing a red sundress and matching sandals. She moved with a regal bearing that bespoke authority. The attendants hopped to it when they noticed the woman approaching. She was probably their boss. If so, her computer files could be ripe with useful information. Lucky for Condor, Bridget was a whiz with electronics. She watched curiously as the woman walked up to Condor, and he flicked a dismissive glance at her.
“Mr. Welch, I’m Lola Barilla, social Director at the Retreat,” the blonde said, as she flashed a gracious smile and extended her hand.
“I’m enchanted to meet you, lovely Lola,” Condor said smoothly, taking her hand. “Please call me Jason. I’m glad to have finally made it. A little trouble with my personal jet delayed our departure from Miami.”
Bridget had to admire Condor’s smooth, cultured delivery—not even a fluttering of his eyelids gave him away. She’d practiced his cover name over and over—Jason Welch—but it still sounded strange. Lola must have bought it hook, line, and sinker, though, because she let out a little gasp of distress about the jet. Maybe there was something to be said for Condor’s outdated methods after all. A glance at Lola’s enamored expression told Bridget the woman was buying it, maybe a little too well, and she was very interested in Condor.
Lola reached out to touch his arm. “If you’d like, one of our mechanics can look at it.”
He leaned closer, smiling. “No thank you, Lola, I fixed it.”
She smiled, and her red tinted nails pressed into his sleeve. “A tycoon who’s also good with his hands? You are a rare breed.”
Condor chuckled. “I’m so glad you’re pleased with me.”
Lola pulled out a platinum ID bracelet. “I’d like to tag you, sir,” she said with a smirk.
Condor grinned and held out his wrist. “Why do I suddenly feel like a submissive?”
“All our guests wear them, Jason. It’s simply a safety precaution. You’re at the platinum level. Welcome to the Retreat.”
“Meaning?”
“You get anything you want, sir,” she said, batting her eyes at him, the invitation clear. “All you have to do is ask.”
Bridget burned as the two flirted shamelessly in front of her as if she weren’t standing there scowling at them. Platinum Level. Delta must have shelled out some deep cash to afford this, but it would be worth it if they apprehended Perez.
Meanwhile, Condor’s brand of macho sex appeal was steamy enough to melt ice, and it obviously melted Lola, whose pale complexion actually grew flushed.
It won’t do you any good honey, but keep batting those baby blues at him. It might actually give me the break I need to do my job and prove myself to him as an agent.
As if reading her thoughts, Lola’s censoring gaze turned to her. Bridget froze, knowing that true sexual submissives didn’t glare at their Doms, or the floozies who flirted with them. But it was too late. She’d already glared.
“She does understand the rules?” Lola asked in a clipped voice.
“Of course,” Condor said, his eyes meeting Bridget’s with impatience.
His hot gaze went to her caftan and his brow quirked commandingly. She knew she was failing as his partner, dangerously out of character. Crap. She didn’t need a house to fall on her to get his unspoken message to strip. It hadn’t exactly slipped her mind that she was supposed to be nude, but she’d been too busy analyzing the scene. It was time to turn from agent to sex kitten.