by Donya Lynne
His mouth gives, opens, welcomes my advance.
The heaviness of the last thirty minutes gives way to something lighter and more nurturing.
He pulls away, gently holding my face in his hands. “I don’t think anyone else could understand me the way you do,” he whispers. Our faces are so close that his lips play over mine as he speaks, dropping tiny kisses between his words and sometimes between syllables. “Most people—people not like us, with pasts like ours—get so wrapped up in their white-picket-fence lives that they can’t conceive of how a person turns to a life of crime. They see the world as a series of pastel achievements instead of brightly colored risks. But that’s not you. You understand. Not because you’ve committed any crimes, but because you’ve been where I’ve been. The vivid colors of your life match mine.”
I’m swallowed by his blue eyes. They’re so close to mine they’re like miniature oceans beckoning me to swim out from the shore until my feet can no longer touch ground. He’ll rescue me if I start to go under. He’ll pull me back up and keep me afloat.
“Walk a mile in my shoes . . .?” I say.
“The nature of it’s in there somewhere. Now, come here.” He pulls my mouth to his.
The time for talk is over. Once more, the chemistry that is fast becoming who we are, and not just something that happens between us, catches us in its grip.
As we make love again, I’m vaguely aware of the voice in my head quietly repeating itself behind the roar of lust’s invasion, but I can’t quite make out what it’s trying to tell me.
It’s only after, when Max is sleeping beside me, as I’m gazing at his boyishly innocent face and the way blissful ignorance has replaced the usually intense angles in his expression, that the words my subconscious has been trying to make me hear become clear.
I can’t do this.
Chapter 7
Nash
“I can’t do this,” I whisper desperately into my phone as I look over my shoulder toward the bathroom.
Max is in the shower, getting ready for the poker tournament that starts in an hour.
“You can do it, and you will,” Karen says firmly.
“But, you don’t understand—”
“No. You don’t understand, Natasha. If you want out of your agreement with Infidelity, this is the way it’s going to happen. I can’t have Max holding members of our clientele hostage.”
“But I . . .”
What could I say that wouldn’t get me into even more trouble? I couldn’t very well tell Karen that I’m falling in love with Max. That I might already be in love with him. That wouldn’t matter to Karen. All she cares about is finding the microSD card that contains enough dirt on members of the who’s who in politics and New York high society to put the reelections, marriages, and freedom of over half the government in jeopardy.
My mind flashes to the files I found in Mr. Salazar’s office. Carl Salazar. The man—and I use that term loosely—who Infidelity paired me with. He was my companion, and for a while, it felt like a good match, even when I was doing things outside my comfort zone. Now, I can barely think his name without gagging.
“Natasha . . .” Karen’s refined pronunciation makes even my name sound like it’s being spoken in an elegant foreign language I don’t understand. “You were told not to go into Mr. Salazar’s office.” I cringe at the mention of his name. “That was one of his hard limits, and yet you went in there anyway.”
“It was a mistake. I didn’t mean to.”
“But you did, and now he’s furious. Mr. Salazar has the means and resources to make your inability to obey his only hard limit hurt not just you, but me and a lot of other people, as well. So it’s paramount you find that chip.”
I’m so far up shit creek right now that not even a paddle would get me back to land. “Did you know what he was when you let him buy me?” It’s a question I’ve never thought to ask until now, and I can’t keep the anger and sarcasm out of my voice.
Karen sighs impatiently. “He didn’t buy you. You were assigned to him based on the compatibility of your profiles. And you know I can’t answer that. It’s not important now, anyway.”
Hmph. Maybe it’s not important to her, but it’s important to me.
“At least tell me you’re dropping him as a client.” I don’t think I can go through all this just to find out he’s still a client.
“You know I’m not permitted to discuss clients with employees, Natasha.” An uneasy silence fills the connection. Then Karen gently adds, “But no, Mr. Salazar will not remain with us for a second term.” I feel as though Karen has granted me a small gift by telling me that. This also serves as proof that Infidelity didn’t know about Carl’s extracurricular activities before signing him on. “Of course, his removal from our system and the dissolution of your agreement are contingent upon you obtaining the SD card in Max’s possession. So, you can see how important this is.”
“Yes.” I close my eyes, wishing I could go back to that day and not enter Carl’s office. I’d gotten overly comfortable in his home, having been with him so long, and when I overheard him mention to a guest that he needed a book that was on his desk, I thought I’d get it for him. Big mistake.
I don’t want to think about what I saw that day, but the images will be forever stained on my brain. The videos, the young girls, some who couldn’t have been more than twelve years old. What kind of animal had I been paired up with?
I close my eyes, pushing the wretched memories away. I performed for Carl. I stripped for him and his friends. I had sex with him. I even had sex with another man, because Carl wanted me to. The man who’d awakened my love of submission. And all that time, Carl had been . . . he was into . . .
I swallow past the lump in my throat, forcing the bile back down.
“He’s a monster,” I mutter.
“That might be true, but he’s a powerful monster, and the only insurance you have that he won’t take his anger out on you for violating his side of the agreement is the SD card in Mr. Davis’s possession.”
In other words, if I don’t get the card, Carl will engineer a situation that will keep me quiet forever. Now that I know him, and not just the façade he wears in public, I wouldn’t put it past him to have me killed. But he’s more the type to plant evidence that will discredit me or even send me to jail so that even if I did go to the authorities about what I saw, they’d never believe me. He has enough politicians and members of the justice department in his back pocket, he could do quite a number on me. My life would be ruined.
“What’s going to happen to him once this is over? Are you going to report him to the authorities?” I understand how complicated the situation is for Infidelity. After all, their business prides itself on its confidentiality and exclusivity. Handing Carl to the police would have to be done very carefully so as not to draw attention to the company. Carl himself could retaliate by spilling everything he knows about Infidelity, and that, as they say, would be the end of that.
“You don’t need to worry about what’s going to happen to Mr. Salazar.”
The firm, sniper-like tone in Karen’s voice gives me a perverse thrill, and I get the impression Infidelity has special plans for Carl. I only wish I knew what those plans were. I could use something to smile about.
Karen continues, “Let’s take this one step at a time, Natasha. Right now, you need to focus on getting what we need from Max and forget about Mr. Salazar. He will be handled later, once we’ve gotten everything in order.”
My purpose for being in Vegas slams into me again, making a cold chill shoot down my back.
I absently pick up Max’s necklace from the dresser, where he left it before taking his shower, and instantly relax as I wrap my palm around the brushed-metal pendant. Just his necklace brings me comfort, much the same way my childhood teddy bear did. Max has quickly become my security blanket. My safe place where nothing can hurt me. Just holding something of his is enough to remind of his presence and help me breat
he more easily.
Rolling the pendant in my palm, I pace to the window. “Karen, I don’t even know if he brought the card with him.”
“It’s always with him.”
“How do you know? Maybe he keeps it in a safe deposit box at the bank.”
“We’ve already looked. It’s not there. We’ve exhausted every resource, and the only conclusion we can come to is that Mr. Davis keeps the card with him at all times. It has to be there.”
“But it’s not in the safe, and that would be the logical place to keep it.” I even searched his wallet a few minutes ago, when he first got in the shower. The chip wasn’t there, either.
“Then you have to think illogically to find it.”
I sigh, massaging the pendant with my thumb. Karen told me they’d only just learned about the card a few months ago during a security audit of Mr. Salazar’s system. There were some irregularities . . . some processes that originated from an unknown source or something. I don’t understand computers at that level, so the verbiage made no sense to me. All I know is that once this security breach was found, they were able to trace it to about a dozen other computers, and from each of those to a dozen more, and so on. It was a vast web of sensitive subject matter getting sucked back to one source, which a team of reverse hackers eventually traced to Max.
And now, here I am, the unwilling savior of the United States government’s corruption.
Yesterday, while Max thought I’d been hunting down job prospects, I’d procured a key card for his room. While he plays in his tournament, I’ll have several hours to scour the room top to bottom. Once I find the card, it’s adios muchachos.
And that’s the hardest part about all this. I don’t want to leave him.
“I don’t even know the first place to look.” My thumb strokes the edges of the pendant, hitting a rough spot.
“Then you’d better get resourceful, Natasha. Mr. Salazar is growing impatient. Today’s the deadline. And neither of us wants to know what he’ll do if you fail.”
I glance down at the pendant and frown when I see what looks like a pair of tiny hinges on one side. I’d thought last night that the pendant was awfully thick and looked more like a locket, and now, in the light of day, I think I might have been right.
Inspecting the other side, I see what appears to be a small clasp. Hooking my thumbnail underneath it, I apply pressure. A moment later, the locket pops open and a small square object falls into my palm.
I gasp. “Omigod.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I found it.”
“What? You found it? The card?”
I flip the microSD card on my palm, shocked it was right in front of me the whole time. “It was in his locket.” The words slip from between my lips on an air of wonder.
The shower shuts off, jolting me from my shocked stupor. With a hasty glance over my shoulder, I shove the card inside my bra and snap the locket closed.
“I’ve got to go,” I whisper into my phone.
“Good work, Natasha. Now get back to New York so we can put this to bed.”
I disconnect, shove my phone in my handbag, and quickly return the necklace to where I found it on the dresser.
My freedom awaits me back in New York. With a stroke of a pen, my agreement will be canceled, I’ll receive a million-dollar payout—hush money—and I’ll be released from any further obligation to Infidelity.
I should be ecstatic, but I’m not.
Max enters the room with a towel around his waist. “Hey, I was worried you might have left.” He slides his hands over my hips and kisses me.
“Nope. Still here.” I break away from him and pull on my shoes. The ones I wore last night as we flew four hundred feet above the ground with only a plastic seat and nylon straps to keep us from falling.
And yet, I fell anyway. Completely in love. There’s no question about it.
He picks up his necklace and drops it over his head.
I hold my breath. Will he notice it feels lighter? Will he not hear the quiet rattle of the chip inside?
Without even a moment’s hesitation, he drops his towel and begins dressing in the charcoal grey suit he set out. It’s tailored, but instead of a tie, he wears it with a black silk shirt that he leaves unbuttoned so I can still see the silver pendant resting on his tanned skin.
So far, it doesn’t look like he’s aware of my deceit.
“You’re coming today, right?” he asks as he joins me by the door a few minutes later. “You said you’d be there.”
“Yeah, sure.” I take a moment to drink in his face and the inviting smile I’ve come to love in the past thirty-six hours. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
We ride down to my floor, and he walks me to my room. At the door, he pulls me to him and kisses me. “I’ll see you later then?”
I nod, forcing myself not to cry. He appears so happy, and I know I’m the reason. It’s enough to fill me with shame so great I almost collapse beneath the weight of it.
He kisses me again, and I hold the connection as long as I can so I can savor the feel of him and his mint-toothpaste taste a few seconds more.
When the kiss ends, he tips his forehead to mine. “This is going to be good. You. Me. Us. We’re going to be good together, Nash.”
His words almost undo me. All I can do is nod. If I try to speak, I won’t be able to hold back my tears.
“Wish me luck?” he says.
I nod tightly and manage to force out “Good luck” without breaking down.
One last kiss, and then he smiles at me, turns, and strolls down the hall.
I’m suddenly overcome with the need to explain myself, to apologize and tell him it wasn’t all a lie.
“Max.”
He stops and turns. I can only imagine what he sees as he stares back at me. Certainly not the imposter I feel like.
“Whatever happens today,” I say, forcing down the lump in my throat, “I want you to know I . . . care about you.” Telling him I love him doesn’t feel right under the circumstances, but hopefully he can see the truth of it in my eyes.
He gives me a curious smile. “I . . . care about you, too.” He winks at me. “I’ll see you in a bit.” Then he turns and continues heading down the hall.
No you won’t.
Sorrow wells inside my heart, forming an ache that expands with each step he takes away from me.
Within the hour, he’ll be sitting at a table with seven other people, playing for one hundred thousand dollars, and I’ll be long gone, on my way back to New York.
As if he’s moving in slow motion, I watch him turn the corner for the elevators, soaking in the last precious sight of him. After he’s gone, I turn, unlock my door, enter my empty room, close the door, remove the chip from inside my bra, place it gently on the dresser next to the TV . . . and then collapse to the carpet, experiencing the most monumental meltdown I’ve ever had.
Crumpled like a broken doll, I bury my face in my hands and sob, my eyes overflowing with tears.
Yes, I’ve earned my freedom today, but at what cost?
Chapter 8
Max
I check my watch.
It’s been over three hours and Nash still isn’t here. Surely, she’s had time to shower, have breakfast, and find her way to the poker room. It’s packed with tournaments today, but it wouldn’t be impossible to find me.
Maybe she’s buying a dress for later or making special plans for tonight. A honeymoon, of sorts.
I win the first-round game and text her as I grab a quick bite before the second round starts. It’s almost three o’clock, and I’m getting worried.
Taking my seat at the table for the start of round two, I check my phone again, only to find Nash still hasn’t replied.
Something’s wrong.
She shared a lot with me last night about her past. Is she having second thoughts about that? Is she ashamed and can’t face me now that I know what she’s done. She acted strangely this morning, like a r
abbit about to run, but I’d hoped it was just me reading too much into things and being paranoid. Now, I’m not sure.
It’s not like her past is that big of a deal. So what? She was a stripper for a while. It’s not like she was a con artist. Surely, she has to know I would never hold her past against her, especially since she’s so understanding about mine. I mean, Jesus, if she’s Darth Vader in this scenario, I’m Emperor Palpatine.
I reach for my pendant and fondle the engraved pattern in the metal, barely paying attention to the cards being tossed onto the table. I’m too troubled by what’s happened to Nash.
What if they came for her, the people from her past? What if she wasn’t totally free from them and they tracked her down?
An icy shiver runs down my back, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Sitting ramrod straight, I hold my breath. This morning. The last words she said to me. She wasn’t telling me that whether I won or lost today that she’d still care about me. She was telling me good-bye.
The reason she looked like a rabbit about to run was because that’s exactly what she was planning to do. Run.
Shooting out of my chair, I lurch away from the table before the dealer stops me. “The blind, Mr. Davis.”
I spin back around, grab a pair of chips from my stack, and toss them into the center of the table. “Deal me out.”
“But, Mr. Davis—”
“Deal me out! I have an emergency.”
Without waiting for a reply, I bolt from the room, take the elevator to her floor, and practically sprint down the hall to her room.
“Nash!” I knock on the door, breathing hard.
No answer.
This can’t be happening.
“NASH!” I pound both fists on the door, but I know it’s no use. She’s not there.
Running back to the elevators, I ride up to my floor, fly down the hall, and burst into my room. Maybe she left me a message. A note. Something.
Ah!