Bound to Serve (Dangerous Liaisons #1)

by Julie Castle

  She walked down the path toward the spa. The spot on her wrist where Condor had marked her itched, and she scratched at the tiny bump under her skin. Trust him to pull something totally barbaric like that. He’d know where she was twenty-four/seven. At least this way he could find her if something went wrong.

  The knowledge that she was shuttled off to the slave-grooming parlor when she ached to be working made her angry. Condor was no doubt setting up for the mission, while she was in Lola’s clutches. The thought gave her pause, but she was tough and well-trained. She could take anything the bitch threw at her. The minute she got the chance, she’d do a little recon of her own.

  Thom Wetzel was by the dockside, and she could hear raised voices as he argued with someone in the shadows of a boathouse. On instinct, she veered off in his general direction to see what she might overhear.

  “God damn it. I’m telling you that you’d better not screw up, Wetzel. My boss is counting on you,” a gravelly male voice shot back.

  She sucked in a shocked breath when shadow man stepped forward. James. It couldn’t be, but the body shape, the facial features were eerily similar. Even so, his voice was all wrong. It couldn’t be him. Oh, god, now she was seeing things, probably because she felt guilty for responding as she had to Condor. After all, she’d just had a steamy session with her fake Dom. Her lust-addled brain was probably playing tricks on her, but she had to be sure. She cut through the undergrowth, trying to sneak a bit closer.

  She wove her way between hibiscus bushes and palm trees, and she caught a male silhouette. But it wasn’t enough to go on. Whoever he was, he was wary enough to remain elusively in the shadows.

  She ducked behind a palm tree and held her breath as she watched him hand over an object. Then he slinked away toward a cabin cruiser tied up to the dock. He did resemble her ex, but his sun-streaked blond hair was all wrong, not to mention his low voice and the stiff way he moved. She heaved out a sigh of relief.

  Wetzel walked back in her direction and stuffed what the man had given him into his pants pocket. What the hell was it? He shuffled past her through the sand, and something made him start to turn toward her—

  She lunged and took him down hard and from the rear before he could identify his attacker. Her left hand shut off a nerve center in his neck, and her right clamped over his mouth and cut off his scream. He dropped like a bag of potatoes into the sand, and she fluidly followed him down to make sure he stayed unconscious.

  She searched his pocket and pulled out a clear plastic vial with two loose diamonds inside. The sun refracted rainbows off the gem’s beautifully cut surface. Why would the man be giving Wetzel diamonds, unless they were a gesture of good faith? Blood diamonds came to mind. Now she knew Wetzel’s motive, but what did Perez want in return? She pulled out the note.

  Be on the dock at nine am sharp for the charter.

  She stared out at the turquoise blue waters. It seemed the answer was out there. If she played her cards right, could she get on that charter?

  Footsteps. Someone coming up the path. It was Lola.

  “Where the hell is that girl?” Lola muttered to a guard she was walking with. “I’m going to have her ass when I catch her.”

  Bridget held her breath and pressed her body into Wetzel’s. Lola, in her fury, stormed on by with her armed guard, and fortunately she was so focused on finding Bridget that she took no notice of her hiding so close by.

  Wetzel moaned, and Bridget pressed her hand over his drooling mouth. She wrinkled her nose as the smell of booze wafted up to her. The hold she’d used would keep him out for at least five minutes, and he’d wake confused, with a hell of a headache. Wetzel settled and started to snore.

  She rolled off him, wiped her hand off on his jacket, and tucked her finds back into his pants pocket. With Lola safely out of sight, she sprang to her feet and hurried past the dock and toward the spa. She had to try to get down to the dock in the morning.

  As she neared the large, glass-enclosed spa, she noticed several naked women sunning themselves in the courtyard. She smiled. No worry about tan lines here.

  Her smile vaporized when she saw Lola standing by the door, blocking it actually, with the tall, dark, armed guard by her side. Oops. So the bitch had beaten her back here.

  “Where the hell have you been, Star?” Lola said, glaring, tapping the toe of her sandal. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. And poor Ed here has torn the place upside down looking for you.”

  Bridget peered up at Ed’s cold and stupid eyes…all brawn, no brains, but dangerous when cornered.

  “Sorry, I got lost.”

  Lola gritted her teeth. “I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, but we keep our submissives on a pretty short leash here. Don’t we, Ed?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He frowned at Bridget.

  “That’s good.” Bridget bowed her head in servitude. “It’ll go with the collar Jason just gave me.”

  “So I see.” Lola’s icy eyes lingered on the emblem of her servitude. “Just watch your step, missy. Any longer and you would have been punished.”

  Try it and die, bitch. She masked her glare and said meekly, “Yes, ma’am.”

  Lola crossed her arms. “That’s yes, Mistress Lola.”

  “Yes, Mistress Lola,” she said sweetly, realizing Lola was watching her closely.

  “I don’t go in for your master’s indulgent attitude, brat, so watch it.” Lola cocked her head and looked her up and down. Her frowning gaze lingered on Bridget’s defiant face. “There’s something different about you, Star.”

  Bridget bit her lip. She hadn’t given them away with her uncooperative attitude, had she? “I’m just a little new to this, Mistress, that’s all.”

  “Oh, who owned you before?”

  Bridget stood rooted to the spot, her mind racing for an answer, as Lola and Ed exchanged nervous looks. Her thoughts jumped to her latest collar. “Hans, Hans Booker.” She watched Lola visibly relax. Even smile. So money and power were the ways around her.

  Lola looked at her with new interest. “I didn’t know he was into the life. You’ll have to give me his address, and I’ll add him to our database.”

  That’d be hard to do seeing he was in GITMO. Of course Lola wanted him; he was loaded and well-connected. It probably took a lot of well-heeled clients to keep this pleasure palace afloat. “I don’t think my current master would like that.”

  Lola chuckled. “There is that to consider. We have to humor them, don’t we? The poor dears.”

  So Lola was a bed slave, too. Just as Bridget was absorbing that fact, a cry of alarm from behind her made her wince. They’d found Wetzel.

  Ed’s pager started to beep. He looked at it and growled.

  “What is it?” Lola asked, grabbing his arm.

  “Wetzel’s drunk again. One of the gardeners found him sprawled in the sand about five clicks away.”

  “Drunk again,” Lola muttered, rolling her eyes. “Well take care of him, Ed, we can’t afford to lose him.”

  “He claims somebody jumped him,” Ed said, rolling his eyes.

  “Check for any sign of a struggle,” Lola ordered. “We can’t afford to take any chances with our new client coming on board.”

  Bridget relaxed. She hadn’t been caught, and she’d gathered valuable information. The new client had to be Perez, and she was going to be in on the kill.

  …

  Condor walked out of the bungalow after unpacking and finding what he expected to—bugs, both the video and audio kind. He’d let them be. Even though the thought of the slimy bastards watching his and Bridget’s private, intimate moments pissed him off. On the plus side, he knew that their heated interactions might counteract blunders she’d make playing his submissive under Lola’s jaded eyes. There was going to be trouble. Like the fact that she’d suddenly gone missing. Lola coming back to fetch her a few moments ago told him that. His excuse that he’d delayed her and that she was on her way hadn’t convinced Lola.


  Bridget had defied him, as he’d feared, no doubt going off to investigate on her own. He pulled her coordinates up on the screen of his diver’s watch and saw that she was now moving toward the spa. What in the hell had she been up to? Scratch that, maybe he didn’t want to know. He couldn’t afford to be drawn off his game by worrying about her. He just hoped that she knew what the hell she was doing. Even though he was concerned, he couldn’t do anything about it now. He’d just have to trust to Bridget’s limited skills as a field agent to keep cool and come up with a good excuse for her tardiness on the fly.

  Instead of obsessing over his wandering partner, he set to work. After planting some unobtrusive tech of his own—a scrambler to mask his voice if he needed to speak clearly about things that could blow their cover, and a sensor to let them know if someone entered—he picked up his old green backpack and left by the rear exit. He cut through the back of the compound and went around servant’s quarters until he broke through the scrub brush and onto a beach. He headed toward his not so secret cache now that Bridget had spilled the beans to her techie friend. Delta would have set up in a cave along with Bridget’s stuff, whatever Jericho was.

  He walked through the jungle until he heard the rush of a waterfall and came up a rough tropical paradise. The falls fell into a pool, which by turn fed into the ocean. Behind the falls was a rocky outcropping. He made his way around the rocks and ventured inside a cave well camouflaged by vines.

  The sandy floor was dry, which showed that the Delta intel was correct, that it didn’t flood at high tide. Satisfied, he opened his bag to take out the two-way radio and arsenal. Well, well, well. He grinned. Some of the Dangerous Liaisons goodies had come along for the ride. Jasmine bubble bath and cherry lube, not that he expected to use them with Bridget. Just the memory of her coming in his arms made him swell and his cock ache. He had to be careful or she’d have him tied up in knots, and then he’d be no use to anyone.

  He stuffed the goodies back in the pack, hoisted a box marked secretary, and got on with the job. He made his way back to the Retreat and carefully memorized the landmarks in case he had to find his way here in the dark and in a rush.

  He snuck back unnoticed and casually set about prowling the grounds. He took his time quietly assessing the formidable security and keeping an annoyed eye out for Bridget. A glance at his diver’s watch told him she was in the spa, finally being good. He relaxed a little. The stiff set of his shoulders eased, and he turned to head toward the pool and bar.

  He spotted Thom Wetzel and Ari Kahn in a cabana by the poolside bar. Suspicious of them, he veered off in that direction. Happy hour seemed to be in full swing. Guests bellied up to the teak bar, and several other cabanas were full.

  Condor stopped at an empty barstool within earshot of the men’s cabana, and he gave the two a sly look. Ari Kahn looked like the mogul he was, dressed in a blue colored silk shirt, tan slacks, loafers, and designer sunglasses. By contrast, Wetzel looked like a bum, his lightweight linen suit rumpled and full of sand, his hands shaking, his bloodshot eyes squinting into the sun. The man seemed to be in a light state of shock, with a bruise on the side of his face and his neck.

  Condor’s jaw tightened. Those were the signs of a classic Delta take down technique. It hadn’t been him, which left only one possibility. Naughty Bridget. He’d have to paddle her ass for that.

  “You stupid ass, Wetzel,” Kahn snapped, as he brushed a few flying grains of sand off his silk shirt. “I told you not to drink so much.”

  Wetzel licked his lips and gulped. “I’m telling you I wasn’t drunk this time, someone jumped me, knocked me down, after my meeting with…”

  “You stupid ass, don’t say his name,” Kahn cut in. “Right. Some invisible ninja attacked you and then disappeared in a puff of smoke.”

  “She smelled like wild jasmine,” Wetzel said.

  Condor almost groaned. It was the scent of Bridget’s exotic perfume. He closed his eyes and prayed for patience.

  Kahn crowed with laughter. “A mere woman kicked your candy ass. Now I know you’re just fantasizing, given your kinks.”

  “Keep my kinks out of this. They’re none of your business.”

  “Don’t get riled. This figment of your imagination didn’t take any of your valuables, did she?”

  “No,” Wetzel said, pulling a vial and note out of his pocket.

  “Put them away, fool,” Kahn said with a growl.

  Wetzel winced and stuffed them back in his pocket. “You don’t have to yell. I’ve got a hell of a headache. I’m not thinking straight.”

  Kahn glared at the rum punch in the other man’s shaking hand, and Wetzel put it down. “That’s better. Lay off the sauce, and that’s an order. I want you sober for the charter tomorrow morning,” Kahn added in a low tone. “Make sure you show up. My associates don’t like to be conned.”

  “Me con you?” Wetzel snorted. “I don’t see why we can’t do this on dry land.”

  “Stow it, and take your seasickness medicine. You just make sure you’re there with your end of the bargain.”

  Condor’s body tensed as he took in their conversation. He’d have to find a way to unobtrusively crash their charter. He hadn’t missed the jerks ogling Bridget. It was stupid to feel so possessive, and it wouldn’t exactly help their cover if he bashed their teeth in. So instead he smiled, took his beer from the bartender, and moved toward their cabana.

  They immediately clammed up at his approach. Kahn’s cool assessing gaze raked over him, which told Condor the man was on his guard.

  Condor gave them a friendly smile and hoisted his beer in a toast. “Cheers, gentlemen, care for some company?”

  Wetzel started and spilled his drink, and his panicked gaze darted to Condor. “Damn,” he muttered, then flashed a disgruntled gaze up at Condor. “No, we’re…”

  Kahn swore and pulled back to avoid the rum punch that was rolling across the glass topped table towards him. “You’ll have to excuse my clumsy friend here. He’s had too much to drink.”

  “I have not,” Wetzel snapped, giving Kahn a resentful glare.

  Kahn ignored him and focused on Condor. “Take a seat, Mister…?”

  “Welch, Jason Welch,” Condor said, slipping into a rattan chair. Kahn’s smile wasn’t all that welcoming. His gaze was suspicious. A natural tendency in the circles he moved in. About half the governments in the world would like to get the goods on Aristotle Kahn, but the reputed arms dealer was both smart and elusive.

  Kahn smiled. “We saw you arrive earlier, Welch. You’re new around here.”

  The confident statement told Condor all he needed to know. Kahn wasn’t just a casual guest. Could he be Lola’s master? Condor nodded. “I just joined the club.” He leaned back in his chair. “Any advice you two would like to give me?”

  Kahn smirked and shrugged. “Relax and have a good time. We saw you with the new bit of fiery talent earlier. The sexy redhead, exclusively yours, or do you trade?” He leaned in closer.

  Condor smiled and took a slow a pull from his long neck bottle of beer. He could feel Kahn’s interest toward Bridget, and he had to force himself not to beat the other man into unconsciousness.

  He was feeling way too territorial over his partner, a warning sign he needed to heed. He’d start emotionally distancing himself from her. It was the only way to ensure their safety. At least the probing question confirmed Lola’s statement that there was slave swapping going on. Damn it all, why hadn’t Delta Star’s intel department picked up on that tidbit? He sure as hell wouldn’t have brought Bridget if he’d known. No damned way was he taking the risk of pretending to share her. He was keenly aware of Kahn’s avid interest and his irritation that Condor was making him wait. The dirtbag wanted immediate gratification. It was a good clue to his personality.

  “Why?” Condor set down the bottle. “Do you have an interesting trade?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” Kahn said, his smile cruel. “The brunette I brough
t with me is well trained but a bit too obedient, if you know what I mean. It’s been years since I tamed a fiery redhead. A man likes a little variety.”

  Condor took in the other man’s confident arrogance. “You are so right.” It’d be a cold day in hell before he’d ever let him touch her. “But sorry, she’s mine exclusively, it’s in her contract.”

  Kahn frowned but shrugged. “Pity.”

  “So tell me, what’s there to do on this island?” Condor asked, spinning the conversation in a different direction.

  “Besides the sporting life and ogling the occasional naked girl?” Wetzel smiled.

  “There’s always role reversal.” Kahn gave a dry chuckle, and Wetzel glared at him. “Some guys like to be dominated. Not that they’d like it to get out,” he added, giving Wetzel a steady look.

  “I suppose whatever floats your boat,” Condor said, gratified when Wetzel shot him a grateful smile.

  “There’s also golf, deep sea fishing, and diving, if you like the water,” Kahn cut in genially.

  “Pity, I don’t play golf,” Condor said dryly, letting the man think they were simpatico.

  Kahn chuckled. “Well then, like I said, there’s always slave swapping. A few of the members bring extra girls and put them up for auction.”

  Interesting. Perez was said to travel with several women, one French, another Swedish. It was a long shot, but if he could confirm that the crime lord would be here…

  “Anything interesting and exotic?”

  “I hear tell there’s a bit of authentic Parisian tail due in tonight,” Wetzel said.

  Kahn bristled and glared at him.

  Condor set down his beer casually, trying not to show his gratification. This might be it. They could be out of here by morning. The thought made him gloomy, although he didn’t understand why.

  Kahn frowned. “Don’t pay him any attention. He’s had one too many. I’ll introduce you to my girl, Candy, later. She’ll change your mind about swapping.”

  Condor didn’t know if he was trying to throw him off the scent or steal Bridget. Either way, he wouldn’t let him succeed. “I’ll look forward to it.”