by Liz Everly
“What would you do, go storming in, rescue your wife and maybe get yourselves both killed?” Josh said.
He’s done it before and been quite fine, Sanj thought, but he kept it to himself. Maybe Jackson was right—maybe they should work outside the law. It would be easier of course, if they weren’t already so involved. Think, think, think. How to find her?
“I know I’ve seen that guy before. He’s the one who chased us all over the place before, searching for Paul’s book and drugs,” Jackson said, calmer now. “It seems like someone should have busted his ass by now.”
“A lot of people have tried,” D’Amico said. “Same with Mozingo.”
“Yeah, Mozingo. What an ass. Maeve thought he was up to no good—”
“Pesticides?”
“Illegal pesticides. She saw them,” Jackson said, glancing off-camera as if distracted by someone or something.
“Still, it doesn’t seem likely he would implicate himself in a kidnapping because of pesticides,” Sanj said.
“Within the chocolate community, he would be shunned for such behavior. Artisans are all about the origin of cacao, how it’s grown, and so on. He was recently given an award for his single-origin organic farming practices. That’s fraud,” Sasha said. “Also, if it was something like DDT? People die from it all the time. Could be other implications.”
The detective turned around and looked at her. “Interesting,” he said. “I’ve just read about a mass grave uncovered that was full of DDT. Where was that? I can’t remember . . .”
“There’s something else, Trinidad . . . bank . . .” Jackson started to say, then faded out.
“Jackson?”
“Check out Maeve’s notes,” they heard him say before he vanished. The technicians hovered in an attempt to get him back.
But a chill crept up Sanj’s spine. He was afraid Jackson had already said too much. He knew the Skype session would not work out from that point. Jackson made the local officials in Ecuador nervous.
“Who has this book?” D’Amico asked, looking around, his eyes finally resting on Jennifer.
Nobody said a word.
“Look,” he said. “I know your friend Jackson thinks you can work around the law and barge in and rescue Maeve, but it doesn’t work like that. First, where is she? We’ve still not found her. Hell, we don’t even know if she’s still here on this island. So. Where is the book?”
“We’ve already been through the book,” Jennifer said. “Just a bunch of history and recipes. I don’t know what Jackson thinks is in it. Why the heck would he even know?”
“It’s in your bag, isn’t it?” Josh said, leaning across the table.
“Shut up, Josh. What do you know?” Jennifer said.
“I know you like the back of my hand,” he said.
“Okay,” Sanj said, stepping in. “Jennifer, if you have the book, please let us see it. Maybe we’ll spot something.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t have it.”
“What? Where is it?”
“I sent it to her publisher. They wanted it,” she said.
“That is tampering with evidence,” D’Amico said.
“I had no idea it was evidence. It belongs to Maeve and her publisher,” Jennifer said. “If you have a problem, call them. I’ll get you her editor’s card.” Her statement sounded rehearsed. She dug around in her purse and handed him the card.
Sanj sat back in wonder as he watched his ex-fiancé hand D’Amico the card. What would happen when he actually called and found out they didn’t have the notebook? Because of all the things Sanj knew about this woman he used to love, he knew this to be certain: she was lying to the police.
He knew when she was lying—her right eye twitched a bit, so slightly nobody else would know except for a man who had studied her, as he had done, as his family had done. He glanced at Josh, who looked perplexed. He knew as well. He knew she was lying. They simply needed to be shed of the cops.
He’d get the book off Jennifer all right.
He felt Sasha’s eyes on him. His eyes scanned her face. She glistened with want. Could she be thinking of sex right now? Could he be? In the middle of this meeting? So naughty.
Something warm and soft landed on his leg. Sasha’s hand. She leaned into him and rubbed his leg. She was. She was thinking of sex.
Adrenaline coursed through his system and suddenly landed in his nether regions. How could that be? He was angry, frightened, and frustrated. A brew of emotions shot through him. And yet. And yet. He needed Sasha. Right now.
“I’m really not feeling well,” she said, almost in a whisper. “Can you please escort me back to my room?”
The thought of Sasha in her room played in his mind. Could he? Would she? Could they?
“Of course.” He stood up and reached for her arm.
“Please excuse us,” he said. “Sasha is not feeling well. I’ll take her to her room, get her settled in, and be right back,” he said. But he caught a glance from Josh that told him he caught the drift—and he had him covered.
“I’ll come with you,” Jennifer said.
“No, please, stay and have some breakfast,” Sanj said. “Be right back.”
D’Amico nodded, and an officer followed them to her condo.
As Sanj began to walk in her condo door the officer grabbed him. “I can’t allow you to go inside.”
“Please,” Sanj responded. “The lady is unwell. I will get her settled and be right back.”
“Fifteen minutes,” he said. “Fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen minutes,” Sanj said. I’ll be lucky to last five.
He shut the door behind him and turned around. Already stripped down, except for her black lacy bra, Sasha waited for him.
“I was thinking of you through that whole meeting. Sick bitch that I am,” she said, grinning. She unhooked her bra and slipped it off her pale shoulders. Black on white. Breasts unhinged. Nipples alert. Oh yes, she had his attention.
He pulled and tugged at his clothes until finally he was free of them, kicking them to the side.
“I’m hot for you already,” she said, leading him to the large couch, then placing his hand between her legs, where she was already slick with want. “I need you.”
Just like that.
So brazen. So wanting and ready. And she liked him. Wanted him. Sanj sucked in the air. Had been simmering during the whole meeting.
“Sometimes just looking at you makes me wet,” she said.
He was a lucky man, But he also felt like he was living in a strange, sexy dream and someone would wake him eventually to harsh reality.
“Mmmm, well,” he managed to say. “Good. We only have a few minutes.”
“That’s all I’m going to need.”
She pushed him down on the couch, where he sat with his pulsing cock straight in the air. She straddled him with those long legs, her breasts pressed against his chest, and took him into her tight self. She shuddered. Her breath warm against his neck.
“You feel so good to me,” she whispered into his ear, licking the tip of his lobe, then moved her lips to his. She tasted of chocolate muffin and coffee and something beyond that. Something darker, richer. She clasped at him with each small, circular movement, sucking in air.
“Sanj,” she whispered with urgency, then placed her mouth on his, releasing, breathing. “I love this,” she said. “They way you make me feel.”
He could say nothing back—to have such beauty moving on him, pressing on him, getting wilder with each thrust. He answered with a deep moan. Her back arching—yes, the small of the back, the sway, where his hand rested, now moving across her ass, pulling her closer. Could he get deeper? Closer? He pushed into her as she thrust hard against him.
Finally she spasmed around him, jerking, sighing. He loved to watch her—the way her eyes fluttered, her head went back. He knew it was okay to let go—she brought her mouth to his neck and at the moment he burst into orgasm, she bit him. Hard.
The sen
sation of pain at his neck and pleasure at his balls? It was not entirely unpleasant.
Chapter 30
Sasha dressed after taking a little snooze after her romp with Sanj. She stretched, a pang of guilt moving through her. She was having such a luscious time with Sanj—and her friend Maeve was with Snake. The thing was, these people didn’t understand him at all. She needed to think of something herself. Some way to ensure Maeve’s safety.
But in the meantime, a little orgasm or two never hurt. Paul used to say she was insatiable. Maybe she was.
A knock sounded at her door.
“Yes?” she said, opening the door after straightening her blouse.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” the police officer said. “But do you know this woman?”
Here stood Yvette, Paul’s wife, petite yet statuesque in posture and attitude, wearing a cocoa-colored Armani suit, trimmed in dark brown, one strand of pearls, and diamond studs in her ears.
“Yes, yes, of course, I know her,” Sasha said, flush with after-sex bliss, and startled by Yvette’s presence.
“May I?” Yvette asked the officer. “I mean, you searched my bag. I have no weapons.”
“Please, yes, come in,” Sasha said abruptly, her heart racing. What was she doing here? How did Yvette find out she was still alive? If she knew and Snake knew, who else knew?
The officer nodded and Yvette slipped inside, opening her arms wide and encasing Sasha within them. She sobbed.
“It’s true,” she said, finally pulling away from her. “It’s you. I saw you earlier and couldn’t believe my eyes. My dear,” she said and sighed. “I thought you were dead.”
Sasha could hardly catch her breath. Such a shock to see Paul’s wife, then to be in her arms, with the sound of her sobs filling the room.
“I’m sorry,” Sasha said after a moment. “Come in and let me get us some tea.”
Yvette sat at the table and giggled as she watched Sasha in the kitchen rattling things around, lighting the burner.
“Something funny?”
“Well, if Paul could see you now. He used to say you were quite dangerous in the kitchen,” she replied.
Despite herself, Sasha felt a bubble of humor and laughed.
“So tell me, Sasha. What happened? How did you survive?” Yvette asked after they settled in with their tea. “I thought you burned in the fire.”
Sasha filled her in with some sketchy details. She didn’t quite trust Yvette. She was Paul’s wife—yes, she was a swinger herself—but she had refused to give Paul a divorce when he asked for it. He wanted to marry Sasha.
“It doesn’t matter. We can still be committed to one another,” Sasha had told him. “That marriage certificate can be meaningless.”
“Yes, but I want to be yours legally as well as spiritually. And Yvette doesn’t get that. She refuses to sign the papers,” he had said.
It was hard, impossible, for Sasha to forget all of this as she sat across the table from her.
“You know,” Yvette interrupted Sasha’s thoughts. “I’d give anything if Paul hadn’t gotten killed. I’d even have given him a divorce. Had I known.”
Sasha nodded, feeling sideswiped with anger—it was too late for Paul!
Yvette sighed and sipped her tea. “There was a time we both cared about you. But I guess I became so envious . . . as I watched him, felt him drifting to you. I couldn’t stand it.” She laughed to herself. “And I fancied myself a swinger. Thought I could handle it—and I did, until you.”
“You’re not in the lifestyle any longer?”
“No. I’m remarried and he won’t hear of it,” Yvette said, sighing, pushing her brown pageboy-style hair behind her ears.
Sasha sipped her tea. Yvette had moved on, which made Sasha inexplicably happy. Could she as well? Was that possible?
“Why is a police officer at your door?” Yvette asked, after pouring herself another cup of tea.
Sasha hesitated.
“Are you in trouble? Can I help you?” She leaned forward.
“No. I’m not. It’s Maeve.”
“Maeve?”
Sasha knew how close Maeve and Paul were, how highly he’d thought of her. Of course, Yvette knew her as well.
“I’m not sure if I’m at liberty to discuss this with you,” she said.
“Good God, woman. If Maeve is in trouble, you must let me know. Paul will be turning over in his grave!”
Sasha told her everything. Instead of swooning—as Sasha herself had done and might do again—Yvette sat motionless, steely, as if poised for attack.
“That fucking Sam,” she said. “I’m so glad you’ve gotten away from him. But Maeve . . .”
Sasha nodded.
“I need to think about this. It’s you he’s after, yes?”
She nodded again.
“But he can’t have you back,” she said. “Tell me, do you want to go back to him? There must be a part of you that misses the life?”
“No,” Sasha said. “I don’t miss him or the life.”
“I’ve known plenty of sex workers who tried to start again. None of them managed, unfortunately.”
“It is confusing,” Sasha found herself saying. “I’ve been a sex worker since I was seventeen. It’s really the only way I’ve ever related to most men. So, I guess I can understand the impulse to go back to it.”
“You had quite the appetite as well, ” Yvette said. “How are you managing, darling?”
Sasha shrugged, her face hot. “I have a lover.”
“What? Who?”
“He’s here. I’m sure you don’t know him. He’s a friend of Maeve and Jackson.”
“Does he know?”
“Yes. Doesn’t seem to bother him.”
“Extraordinary,” Yvette said almost to herself. “Here we are. We both loved Paul. He loved both of us. And here we are.”
Her eyes reddened and glittered. Was she going to cry?
“Sanj and I have just met, really—”
“Sanj? Sanj Jain?”
“Yes. You know him?”
“Quite wealthy, you know,” Yvette said, nodding. “Also very traditional in his appetites.”
Sasha didn’t want to ask her how she knew him. It was a small world. This she knew.
“And you are not,” Yvette said.
“I don’t know what I am,” Sasha said. It struck her in that moment how true the statement was. She was finding herself at the age of thirty-five, still unsure of even the most basic thing about herself. She’d been pretending to be someone else for so long, she didn’t know who she was.
“You are a dominatrix.”
“Am I? That’s what I was told. I played the part for years,” she replied.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t like it. I’ve seen you play. I know a real dom when I see one.”
“Hmm,” Sasha said. “But I’ve also enjoyed myself with Sanj. Straight-up vanilla sex.”
Yvette shrugged. “Nothing says you can’t enjoy both. I always have. Also, nothing says you can’t teach Sanj to find his submissive nature. If indeed he has one. But he comes from a very strong culture. And you may have your hands full.”
Hands full of Sanj? Sasha smirked. She didn’t mind that, not at all.
Chapter 31
“What are you doing here?” Jennifer squealed when she saw
Yvette.
“I’m here for a holiday, a kind of a honeymoon,” Yvette said. “I ran into Sasha and she explained what’s going on. Can I help, gentlemen?”
The PI and the officers swarmed around her.
“I know this Sam Everidge,” Yvette said. “And I saw him a few days ago, purchasing rope.”
“Where did you see him?” Josh said.
“At a little hardware and supply store. I can’t remember the name, but it was near the cove on the other side of the island.”
“Oliver’s Outfitters?”
“Yes, yes, that was it,” she said.
“How do you know this man?” Josh
asked.
“This man owns some restaurants and casinos my husband used to have business with. Um, my deceased husband, Chef Paul Delvechio.”
It was as if all the air in the room had been sucked out as they all stood and stared at her. Sanj’s eyes found Sasha’s and quickly looked away.
Here was the woman who was married to Paul, the man his Sasha had loved, loved enough to give up cocaine, to change her life in drastic ways. She stood next to his Sasha. His Sasha. Why was he feeling a sense of ownership? They barely knew one another. And he had a feeling what he knew about her was only surface—she was a murky, deep sea, tugging at him. Wasn’t he inside her a few hours or so ago? Didn’t he want to be there again?
A delicious sinking feeling washed over him. Only if she wanted him. Her terms. Only.
Check yourself, man. What is wrong with you? Don’t lose control over this woman. Over any woman. You are a man.
Detective D’Amico was on his mobile ordering a search of the area Yvette told him about. An officer handed him a file. The hotel intercom system announced a volleyball game getting ready to start on the beach.
And Yvette knew Jennifer, he noted, watching the two of them huddled together in the corner. That gave him a weird feeling.
“So, here’s what we are going to do, people,” D’Amico said. “We are still searching Mozingo’s land. We are sending out a team to this new area. In the meantime, you all need to stay on the grounds. Inside, if at all possible. For your safety. Our officers will be assigned to each of you. This can be a dangerous situation for each one of you. We don’t know if Everidge has infiltrated this resort—but he could have people here. So keep an eye out.”
Sanj’s stomach twisted. He felt helpless. He racked his brain trying to figure out how he could help to find Maeve, his best friend’s wife, and truly one of the best people he had ever known. He swallowed hard. No. He could not allow himself to think about losing Maeve. Or about the things she must be going through. She was tough. She’d get through it. They would help her—once she was out of Sam Everidge’s claws.
He moved toward Sasha. She reached her hand out to him.