Bound to Serve (Dangerous Liaisons #1)

by Julie Castle

  “Enough.” He stepped back and dried her off. “Your things are in the medicine cabinet. You’ve got ten minutes to get ready and report back to the bedroom.” He spun on his heel, went out of the bathroom, and shut the door behind him.

  Bridget stood there for a moment, stunned, and stared at the closed door. He seemed suddenly distracted, angry. She’d hoped for another tryst—burned for one actually—but he seemed determined to keep his distance.

  It was for the best. They both had jobs to do. He didn’t like his body’s natural response to her. It interfered with the mission, and she’d have to follow suit.

  She stepped out of the bathroom and found Condor already dressed and looking like a man on vacation in his Hawaiian print shirt, cut-offs, and sandals. The cautious look he gave her told her he was back on the job. Feeling naked and vulnerable, she stood there and fought her instinct to cross her arms over her breasts and shield them from his hot gaze. There was no point. He’d already seen her, everything about her.

  He tossed her a gold caftan. She gratefully slipped it on just as there was a tap on the door.

  “Go fetch breakfast,” he said.

  There was the bite of reality again.

  “Yes, sir,” she said a bit snappishly, but he smiled. He liked her sass.

  Annoyed, she stalked over to the door. Was it Lola, or another of her ilk? She unlocked the door and realized how poor the locks were. Anyone could force their way inside.

  She opened the door and found a smiling girl on the doorstep bearing a covered tray. The woman was a semi-nude native girl, wearing only a string bikini bottom, her feet bare.

  Tanned, lovely, and young, the girl’s amused gaze raked over Bridget. “You’re the one.”

  “The one?” Bridget asked.

  “Who raised a ruckus last night, poolside?” she said with a snicker.

  Bridget blushed. “I take it that’s not done here.”

  “First time ever,” she said, thrusting the tray at her. “Breakfast, sir.”

  Bridget took the tray. “Thanks.”

  The woman seemed to linger, amused, no doubt waiting for fireworks. She could all but feel Condor behind her scowling. From the look the native girl flicked at him, she clearly expected trouble. Just how infamous was her act?

  She kicked shut the door. Stomach grumbling, she carried the tray back to Condor. Only now did she realize she’d missed dinner last night. She was famished. Condor leaned up against the dresser and watched her, a guarded look on his face.

  “On the table,” Condor said with a nod of his head.

  She diverted to the small corner table, laid down the rattan tray, and inhaled the mouthwatering aromas of coffee and something savory. She lifted off the tray’s woven cover to reveal one plate of breakfast and one cup of coffee. She flicked a troubled glance at Condor, who was still watching her. “They didn’t bring enough.”

  “Oh, there’s enough. You forget your place. Remember, you may eat when I say you can, Star. Now, slave position number one.”

  Bridget sank to her knees. She knew he had no choice. They were being spied on. He was playing a role, and she had to play hers. Still, he could be such a bastard, even if this was part of the game. She watched him take a seat at the table, not caring that she was breaking the rules by glaring at him.

  He took a sip of the coffee and let out a sigh of pleasure. “They make excellent coffee here at the Retreat. Would you like a sip?”

  Angry but desperate, she nodded.

  “Kneel up then.” He arched a brow while adding cream and sugar to the cup.

  Stifling a grumble, she rose up a bit taller and took a sip from the cup he held out to her. She started to reach for it, but a forbidding frown from him kept her hands primly at her sides. The coffee, rich and creamy, tasted like ambrosia. He’d fixed it her way, she realized with shock, recalling that he took his black. She drank deeply, and then sat back with a sigh of pleasure. “Thank you, sir,” she murmured, seeing his hot, startled glance.

  He buttered a wedge of toast, munched on it, and then held it out for her to take a bite. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation. He ate half a strip of bacon and held the other half out for her to nibble. Bit by bit, he fed her off his plate until it was empty. Then, when he was done, he wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin.

  She sat back on her haunches waiting for further instructions.

  He leaned back and looked at her. “Today’s going to be a big day for you.”

  She blinked up at him. “How so?”

  He reached out to smooth back her hair. “Miss Lola has already made out your schedule.”

  Her nose wrinkled with distaste. The dreaded Mistress Lola was working overtime. “How thoughtful,” she muttered.

  “Let’s see what’s on your to do list, shall we?” He picked up a sheet of paper listing their scheduled activities. “You should just have time to do your secretarial chores before you toddle off to the day spa. Between pampering, a workout, and oral pleasure techniques class, your dance card is full, sugar. It’ll give me time to do a little fishing.”

  Fishing for clues, he meant. Their roles, as usual, felt so unbalanced. He was free to investigate while Lola instructed her in Blowjob 101. It so wasn’t fair, but she’d have to make the most of the opportunities that came her way, like his mention of her secretarial chores. Now she could finally be of use to him. “I’ll get right on that.”

  “You do that.” He frowned down at her. “Be sure that you adhere to this, and only this. No deviations from the list, no outbursts like yesterday. We can’t afford them. Got it, Star?”

  He was referring to her break in character last night. Most submissives wouldn’t know martial arts. She nodded.

  He stood and helped her to her feet. “Be good.” He pulled her into his arms for a kiss.

  She moaned as he kissed her, and she opened her mouth for his tongue. It surged inside, mated with hers, and reminded her of her surrender. When he broke the kiss, she sighed and reluctantly parted from him.

  “It’s set up in the den for whatever techie voodoo you intend to do, but remember, we’re being watched. Don’t blow anything up,” he whispered. He let her go but frowned at her. “Don’t forget to tidy up. We don’t want to have the maids in.”

  She got the message. They didn’t want snoops going over their things, and he didn’t want her to do anything to tip Lola or her minions off. “I wouldn’t dream of blowing things up. I’m sure Lola has better Wi-Fi than that,” she sassed back, seeing his disapproval. Disapproval or not, when the time came she wasn’t letting him meet the enemy unarmed. She made her way into the den to get ready for combat.

  Chapter Eight

  Condor hurried across the grounds, noting that he seemed to be one of the few early risers. He wasn’t surprised after the way the party had raged on long after he’d hauled Bridget’s sexy ass out of there.

  He stepped out onto the pier and made his way down the dock to the sleek cabin cruiser, which was tied up and purring at its side. This had to be Kahn and Wetzel’s charter, even though they didn’t seem to be about yet. Probably sleeping it off, he surmised, reminded of how Wetzel had sucked down the complimentary rum punch last night. The man was nervous. Scared of Kahn. And maybe Perez.

  The boat rental shack was locked up tight, with a sign saying that it was closed for the morning. He ignored it, stowed his dive knife in some palmetto bushes so it wouldn’t set off the metal detectors, and boarded the craft. He followed his nose to the rich aroma of coffee brewing in the galley down below. He walked down the ladder and found a topless native girl bustling around the cramped kitchen, making coffee and cutting tropical fruit.

  She looked up, startled, then saw the member’s wristband on Condor’s wrist and smiled. “Would you like coffee, sir?”

  “I’ll handle this¸ Rene,” a low, male voice said from behind him.

  Up top, there was a wiry native man with a weather-beaten face. The sailor, with leathery skin and quick move
s, looked down at him suspiciously. Then he glanced at the Members Only platinum wristband on Condor’s wrist and underwent a metamorphosis, his smile more of a sneer.

  “Something I can do for you, Mister…”

  “Welch, Jason Welch,” Condor said.

  “Well, Mr. Welch. You must be lost or something, because you sure ain’t one of the gents who hired me.”

  Condor read the guy’s sour expression as he said “gents.” He didn’t think much of the guests he was paid to drive. “I’d like to rent a sailboat for the day.”

  The man frowned. “Sorry, sir. The marina’s closed for the morning. If you’d like to come back this afternoon…”

  “I can’t,” Condor said, giving him a steady look. “Lola did say I could have anything I asked for. Maybe if I called her…”

  “Lola, you say?”

  Condor saw the man’s unease. Bingo. He pulled out his cell phone to force the issue. Lola probably wouldn’t like being woken at six in the morning, but he was guessing the mere threat would make the guy crack. “If you’d like me to call, you can talk to her.”

  “At six in the morning, are you crazy?”

  “No. Just determined.” Condor shrugged, pocketed the phone, and pulled out his wallet. He peeled off a few one hundred dollar bills and stepped up the stairs to hand them to the older man. “This is just a small token of my appreciation, sir.”

  The guy pocketed the bills. “Well, I suppose I have time to get you away before this lot comes around.” He frowned down at Rene, who was watching them curiously. “Get on with your work, girl.”

  Condor used the distraction to plant a dual bug and GPS device alongside the bulkhead. Tiny, it blended in with the hull. Hopefully, it would give him the edge he needed to privately survey Kahn and Wetzel’s actions without scaring them off. With any luck, he’d take down Perez, and they’d be out of here by noon.

  Bridget will be so pissed not to be in on the kill.

  “Follow me, sir,” the man said, walking toward the gangplank.

  Condor followed the man to the boathouse. He shared the other man’s urge for speed. The men would only drop their guard if they knew they weren’t being observed.

  He climbed onto the sailboat and cast off. He saw the nervous look in the other man’s eye, and he smiled to reassure him. “Which way are they going? So I can avoid them.”

  “Didn’t file any plan, but they’re bound for Lace Island, I imagine. It’s a little speck due north. Avoid that, and you should be okay.”

  Condor set off silently, the wind filling his sails, and made for sea. He’d spent four years as a Navy Seal, so the sea was second nature to him. With the dock far behind him, he tacked around the far side of the Retreat’s island and made for a mangrove swamp in the distance. It was the midway point between the pier and the island the man had pointed out.

  He opened his backpack, pulled out his binoculars, and wondered how Bridget was getting on in Blowjob 101. She was probably the star pupil.

  He set anchor on the rocking boat, scanned the crystal blue waters for trouble, and spotted the deserted isle. Supposedly deserted—but he saw signs of life.

  The bug snapped to life. “Ready to catch some marlin, Wetzel?” Kahn asked with a chuckle.

  “I don’t see why we couldn’t have done this on dry land,” Wetzel complained in a whiny voice.

  “Because we said so,” Kahn said dryly. “Relax and enjoy the blue waters—the topless girls—you wuss.”

  “Easy for you to say. You know I get seasick,” Wetzel said.

  “Barf on my new suit and I’ll feed you to the sharks, drunkard. The hell with our deal.”

  Condor sat in the mangrove forest holding still even though it had felt like he’d been sitting there forever. He ignored the buzzing insects, pushed everything aside and listened. Then finally, he heard the motor of the cabin cruiser before it came into sight. Relaxing a little he watched it zip across the water and go directly to the island confirming Delta’s intel. The man hadn’t been yanking his chain. He watched them with his binoculars. Kahn looked natty as ever in a thousand dollar, tropical weight suit. Wetzel looked green about the gills as he clutched a duffle bag to his chest. He watched them stop offshore, careful to avoid the reef, and wait.

  The whine of a motorboat was audible through the bug.

  “Buck up, my friend. He’s here,” Kahn said.

  “Bullshit,” Wetzel said, gagging as the boat rocked.

  “He looks queasy to me,” another male voice called out.

  Condor went on point, realizing someone had climbed up the swim ladder on their boat. He watched a guy with blond curly hair walk up to them, his stride feral. Condor growled deep in his throat. Damn it all, it couldn’t be…

  But it was, and it would devastate Bridget. He’d aged, changed his appearance, but it was James Clayton. The fiancé she’d assumed dead and come here to avenge.

  “Did you bring it?” James asked, glancing at the duffle Wetzel still clutched.

  “You first,” Wetzel said, glaring back at him.

  “Our friend is developing courage,” James said, with a sneer.

  “He’s drinking like a fish, Jimmy boy, though he passed out yesterday but wants to claim he was sacked by some ninja,” Kahn said, with a smirk.

  Bridget! Condor shuddered, realizing anew what a close call she’d had, and then froze, as the full implications sunk in. Had she seen James? It would seem almost unavoidable. But why hadn’t she said anything? Had she seen him and found reason to question her allegiance? Was her quest for justice more about devotion to him?

  No!

  She was too honorable to double cross him. She quite simply couldn’t know James was alive. Which meant he had one hell of a revelation to share with her. How the hell was he going to tell her that her ex was alive and with the enemy? He’d have to find some way to keep her protected.

  He lowered his binoculars and shielded his eyes from the bright sun.

  “What the hell was that?” James asked, looking directly toward Condor’s hiding place.

  “What?” Kahn said.

  “A flash of light, a reflection off something, six clicks off.” He reached for his own pair of binoculars.

  Condor put away his binoculars. Shit. The sun had glinted off them, giving his position away. He sat back and made himself the picture of relaxation.

  “Crap, it’s a sailboat lying in the weeds,” James said.

  “Gimme that spyglass,” Kahn said, and then he chuckled. “It looks like Welch. After the trouble he had with his submissive last night, I don’t blame him for hiding out.”

  “What kind of trouble?” James asked, suspiciously. “He won’t come ashore if things aren’t right.”

  “Nothing like that. His girl acted up, scandalously.”

  “Knocked Kahn’s ass in the pool,” Wetzel said with a dry chuckle.

  “Shut up,” Kahn cut in. “She’s obviously not well-trained. The guy must have a weak will and a limp dick. The little hellcat needs a firmer hand, like mine.”

  Condor went rigid. With eyes narrowed, he surreptitiously watched them head back toward the dock at the Retreat. James kept watch on him through a spyglass the whole way. The turned secret agent had lost none of his instincts as a spook.

  …

  Bridget entered the spa gym and instantly noticed two new women, one older and brunette in a bikini, the other, a pretty blonde in a pink, baby doll nighty. She settled on the mat beside them to stretch out. She hoped the new arrivals were Perez’s women. If so, she’d get to work after all, thwarting Condor’s wishes. She did her exercises beside them as the semi-nude women moved through languid poses. The blonde was sulky, pouting as she went through the motions, while the older brunette flexed with athletic grace.

  “If only he’d get here,” the blonde said.

  “Now hush, Jasmine, you know how harsh Simon gets with you when you get the sulks,” the other woman said with a French accent.

  Simon. B
ingo.

  “Easy for you to say, Yvette. You’re his number one girl, and I have to settle for seconds.”

  “Chéri, you know how fickle he is. Soon it will be your turn to be the special one.”

  “Well, there you are,” Candy said, plopping down on the mat next to Bridget.

  Bridget gave her a tight smile as the other women fell silent. Crap, talk about bad timing. Bridget couldn’t help wincing when she saw the new stripes on the nude woman’s ass. “You got it again.”

  “And how,” Candy said with a smile. “You really lit his fire last night, girlfriend. Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Bridget said, hoping to change the subject. She didn’t need to get next to Ari anymore to further the investigation, not now that it looked like Perez’s women had arrived.

  “Candy, you’re here,” Yvette said.

  Bridget shrank back as Yvette leaned over to look around her. She watched the women embrace, and she rolled her eyes at her own thick-headedness. Of course they were friends. As conspirators, they traveled in the same circles.

  “What’d she do to turn your man’s head?” Jasmine asked.

  “Knocked Ari in the pool, after introductions last night. Then her Dom publicly spanked her. Let me tell you, every tomcat around here now looks at her like she’s catnip.”

  “Clever girl,” Yvette winked.

  “I didn’t…” Bridget felt herself blush as she started to protest, but she bit her tongue. Letting them think she was simpatico would enhance her profile and get her one step closer to Perez. “Thanks, it just sort of came to me. We all do what we can to stand out from a crowd.”

  Jasmine leaned in. “Do you have any more tips you’d care to share with us?”

  Bridget scrambled for an answer, inhaling Jasmine’s sweet floral scent. In contrast, Yvette was wearing something deep and musky. “Did you ever hear about the ice cream cone trick?” she asked, remembering a trick she’d read about in an erotic romance.

  “No. Tell us,” Jasmine said.

  “Well, you cut out the base on a cone, and then you slip it over his erect dick.” Of course, with a monster like Condor’s, it would never fit. “Then you lick it off him until he splits the cone and there’s a sweet ending.”