He knew what she meant by the “bed” comment. She’d arrived in Thailand after an eighteen-hour flight, but parts of his body weren’t as understanding as his brain. Shifting in his seat, he imagined a nice cold shower.
It wasn’t easy, since Mariska Stonegate was beyond enticing. Long legs poked out of a flowered skirt, and he’d even noticed her dark red toenails. Curves in all the right places and her eyes—he’d never seen a shade of green so light they were almost translucent. Her curly hair had been pulled back in a haphazard ponytail, giving her the look of a college coed on summer break.
Jackson knew better. She was intelligent and obviously damn good at what she did. Even in his business he was aware of SIA. They worked in every part of the world. Then there was the fact that her mother, Janice Stonegate, was a legendary operative. That last name had been his first clue that Mariska was someone who could help. He wondered if she even knew her mother had ever been in the CIA, before quitting to open up her own security and investigative firm.
People in his business knew about Janice, because she was one of the few international operatives to transition into civilian life successfully. She’d been killed in a plane crash last year, and many wondered if, after thirty years away, her past had finally caught up with her.
Jackson couldn’t believe his luck in running into her daughter. When he’d walked into the bar he’d been looking for an ally. Dawson, his handler, said he was sending a friend. Dawson had a history of using women to convey messages, and she was the only one there. When he heard her last name, he knew he’d hit the mark.
She might not even know that she was the “friend,” but she would have resources, something Jackson was seriously low on at the moment.
She seemed like a genuinely nice woman. It was unfortunate he had to pull her into his plan, but he had no choice. If it made Jackson a lying bastard, so be it.
For once, luck certainly seemed to be on his side. When he discovered Mr. Thomas was a private investigator, Jackson had slipped right into the role. Mariska was an asset in his world, and he needed her more than she could ever imagine. The fact that the image of those gorgeous eyes and generous lips would now be burned into his brain complicated things, but he had to stay on task.
When the real Mr. Thomas had walked into the bar, Jackson knew exactly who he was. The wary eyes that searched the room made him easy to pick out. He had the look of a man who had seen too much. Jackson sometimes saw the same thing when he glanced at a mirror.
The old man had fallen for the “assistant act,” when Jackson told the private investigator that he worked for Ms. Stonegate. It was amazing how a few hundred dollars could make someone accept even the flimsiest of explanations. Mr. Thomas hadn’t batted an eye. He’d handed over the documents, which had helped bring Jackson up to speed on the case.
The papers he held gave Jackson an easy in. The break he needed to become a part of Mariska’s world. He’d help her find Mr. Gladstone. It was the least he could do. Then he’d use Mariska and her resources for his own agenda.
He coughed to cover the long pause and then gave her his most seductive grin. “If you’re asking me up to your room for a bit of physical exertion—”
She laughed, her hands flitting about nervously. For an experienced P.I., she seemed so flustered around him. He appreciated the fact that she wasn’t jaded like most of the people in her business.
“I so did not mean that the way it came out,” she said. “I meant, I need a nap, which is more than obvious.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure what it is about you that ties up my tongue.”
He allowed himself a second to think about her tongue circling his…Damn. He really would need that cold shower if he didn’t stop thinking about her that way.
“I am wondering if you could satisfy my curiosity about something.” Thankfully she interrupted his thoughts again. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy who would be a private investigator in Bangkok.”
Huh. She was perceptive. Shrugging, he told her the truth. “I’m not.” At her sharp intake of breath he added, “I’m more of a consultant, and I don’t live here full-time. Bangkok is a temporary home until I clear some cases of my own.
“You know the rules about client confidentiality, but I can assure you they are along the same lines as what you are working on. That’s why I thought it might be a good idea if we pooled our resources. I’ve spent a great deal of time here and know the city and its people well. I promise to be nothing but an asset to you.”
Everything he said was true. When he’d been burned he’d been working on a human trafficking ring out of Rayong. Vlad’s organization did much more than gun-running. Jackson had managed to get inside the operation and he’d made progress. But somewhere along the line Jackson had screwed things up royally, and now he’d spend whatever life he had left finding out where he’d gone wrong. Once the Company, or worse, Vlad’s assassins, found him, he was a dead man.
Mariska studied him for several minutes. She was intelligent, and not easily fooled. He’d managed to use his rusty flirting skills to distract her but that would only last so long.
He glanced at his watch again to change the subject. “We have a few hours for you to rest. I can pick you up at, say, ten? We can grab a quick bite and then head off to our first stop.” It would also give him time to research the case and Mariska. He wondered if the SIA’s resources were why Dawson had set it up so that he’d find her.
Picking up the folder, he read. “Liu Mae’s Sauna and Massage is probably the best place to start. I’ve heard—” he pursed his lips, not wanting to go into details “—a few things about that establishment from some of my contacts.”
“What kind of things?” She fingered the handle on her bag.
The narrowing of her eyes made him think she might be suspicious of something he said, but he couldn’t imagine what. So he told her the truth. “That the women there get paid a great deal of money to do special favors for their clientele. Let’s say there are no boundaries.”
She scrunched up her nose. “Please tell me no animals are involved. I’m all for sex any way you like it, but if there’s a donkey, I’m so outta there.” She laughed. “I can’t believe I said that out loud.”
The “sex any way you like it” comment caused his pants to bulge and he painfully crossed his legs to hide the evidence. His mind had flashed to a dangerous place where he had her up against a wall with her legs wrapped around him. “I don’t think you have to worry about that sort of extreme, though you may see some tools of the trade,” he teased her.
Standing, she pulled her bag onto her shoulder. “I don’t think I even want to know what you mean. Give me a couple of hours to crash, and I’ll meet you in the lobby.” Holding out her hand, she waited for him to do the same. “It’s been a pleasure,” she said as he took her hand in his.
Her fingers were long and tapered and the skin soft against his calluses. Jackson held on a little too long. When she looked down at their hands linked together, he let go. Then she turned on her heels and walked out.
Believe me, the pleasure was all mine. Jackson watched as the lower half of him still fought for control.
He noticed three other men entering the bar glance at her as she left. A strange sensation came over him. A protective feeling that was quite unfamiliar.
Mine. He desired her in a bad way.
The instinct to punch them for staring at her was strong, but he stayed put. As he watched her hips sway under the flowery dress, how could he blame them for looking? There was a freshness, no, an innocence about her that he hadn’t come across in a really long time, an unusual trait in her line of work.
Jackson chugged his mineral water. It was really too bad he didn’t have time for that cold shower. He pulled out his wallet but the bartender waved him away.
“The lady already paid,” the man said as he picked up Jackson’s glass and wiped the bar.
Lucky for him he’d kept the folder. He’d have some tim
e to do a bit of footwork on his own.
He also had to see a man about a passport. If he were ever going to get out of this godforsaken city, he’d need a couple of new identities.
Before that happened, he had a mess to clean up. When he found out who had sent him on this one-way road to hell, he’d kill them.
3
MAR WAS DETERMINED to not act like an idiot when she saw Mr. Thomas later that evening. She lay in her bed surprised that she’d been able to sleep for a couple of hours. The alarm on her cell had chimed her awake, and now she had a half hour to shower and change.
Yawning, she stretched and moved her legs to the side of the bed, wishing she could sleep a few more hours. Finally, she pushed herself up and went into the well-appointed bathroom. The Four Seasons never skimped when it came to linens or bathrooms. She turned on the hot water and thought about her meeting with Mr. Thomas.
“What kind of detective am I that I don’t even know his first name? I talked to him for almost an hour.” She stared at herself in the mirror wondering how much longer she could hold up this charade.
The problem was, she was no detective. Not really. Everything she knew she’d learned from studying for her Ph.D. in clinical psychology with an emphasis on the criminal mind, and researching case files at the office. She was nothing more than a figurehead, though so far she’d been able to fool most of the agency’s clients.
Two years ago she was well on her way to becoming an FBI profiler, at least that was her dream. That had changed with her mother’s death.
Sad, since her mother was one of the best in the business. Of course, her mom, the founder of SIA, had also been a CIA agent, a fact Mar had only discovered a few months ago while digging through some private papers.
When she confronted her father about it, he’d said, “That part of her life was over long before you were born, hon. We don’t discuss it.”
Mar had tried to press him for more, but it was useless.
Obviously, Mar hadn’t picked up any of her mother’s special interrogation skills, because she’d let the matter fall. She was good at subterfuge. She’d not only fooled the clients, but also several people at SIA headquarters. At first, when she fumbled and stumbled they believed she was still mourning her mother. She was lucky that a few of her friends, Chi, Katie and a couple of others knew the truth. They helped to hide the fact that she was in way over her head.
When it looked like everyone might figure out what was going on, she’d solved the case of a missing child by sheer luck. Mariska had been coming back from a trip to Houston when she’d stopped at a roadside barbeque joint for some ribs. There was a little girl alone in the restroom washing her hands. When Mariska saw her, she knew that it was Maddie Lennon, who had been missing for three weeks. There’d been Amber alerts and everything.
She’d checked the stalls to make sure the little girl was alone and then locked the bathroom door so no one could get in. Trying to be as calm as possible she told Maddie that she was a detective like on TV, and that she was safe. Maddie didn’t say a word but she didn’t try to run away. Mariska pulled out her phone and called the police.
The woman and man who’d taken the little girl had nearly beaten down the door until Mariska had shouted the police were on the way. The couple hadn’t made it to the restaurant’s entrance before the owner of the place pulled a shotgun and had them down on their knees. God, you had to love Texans. Later he told Mariska he knew that when they were willing to leave a child behind they were up to no good.
When the police arrived they took the couple into custody and Mar’s hands were shaking so bad she almost couldn’t unlock the door.
A few hours after that Maddie had been reunited with her parents. It was a happy ending and Mar was more determined than ever to be better at her new job. She studied the case files of the other investigators and brought in some of her best friends to work with the agency.
While she had no illusions that she would ever be a great investigator like her mother, she wanted to be legitimately useful. This assignment in Bangkok was a way to test herself even if she’d much rather be on vacation.
Now she was going into the underworld of a dangerous city with a sexy guy who had more secrets than she could ever imagine. Oh, she might not be the world’s greatest detective but she could read people. Mr. Thomas was hiding something, though her gut told her he was sincere in wanting to help her.
There was something about the man that made her heat from the inside out. She’d seen, and even dated, plenty of hot guys. None of them had pulled at her the way he did. None of them had ever quite caused her stomach to twitter with a fiery glance. Or made her tongue do crazy somersaults so that every sentence she spoke was an effort.
She blew out a big breath and stepped into the shower.
What she really needed to do was get her libido under control. After standing under the hot water for a few minutes and soaping off she turned the tap to cold.
“Brrrr.” Her teeth chattered.
It was amazing how frigid water could make a girl’s body behave. She had to concentrate on the case. Solve this one and you get a vacation. Then you can go back to being a figurehead behind your nice safe desk, in your nice safe office, researching cases for the other detectives.
Her mind wandered to Mr. Thomas.
Maybe she didn’t want to be safe any more.
“IT’S PROBABLY BEST IF we act like a couple looking for a good time,” Jackson said. Over a steamy bowl of Pho noodles she’d finally learned his name.
He took her hand in his as they walked down the street. She knew it was to protect her from the throng of people here in the red light district. She’d been a lot of places, but none as crowded as this. Well, maybe Times Square on New Year’s. But this wasn’t any special day. Between those in storefronts hawking their wares to street vendors with chickens and lizards hanging from their stalls, it was nothing short of overwhelming.
I don’t think I’ll be trying the lizard.
As his fingers wrapped around hers it was so easy for her to pretend that they belonged together. In the last hour over dinner her determination to be professional had wavered. He’d arranged it so they had a quiet table and that she had everything she needed. It was as if he were taking care of her.
At any other time she might have been annoyed with a man ordering for her, but with Jackson, well, he was different. Not only did he have a thorough knowledge of the language, he was in tune with her taste. The noodles were exactly what she wanted. The right hint of heat and curry.
“For someone who doesn’t live here, you certainly know how to speak Thai. You guys were talking so fast I couldn’t even pick up one of the few words I know.”
Jackson squeezed her hand, and the warmth seemed to spread through her limbs. This guy did things to her like no other.
“I travel a great deal and pick up languages as I go,” he said. “I guess some might say I have an affinity for it.”
They were on a busy street in the Banglampu district and only a few blocks from their destination. The small talk was Mar’s way of easing her nerves. She had let Jackson become a distraction and that was far from a good thing, especially since she had no idea what she would do once they arrived at the sauna and massage parlor.
Should I question the owner? Try to find out if they’ve ever seen or heard of Mr. Gladstone? That didn’t seem such a smart idea since people in these kinds of places valued confidentiality.
Mar wasn’t so naive that she didn’t know a couple of hundred dollars in the right hands could buy all the information she needed. That’s why she had more than a thousand tucked under her bra in a special pouch. The problem was how to know which palm to grease. That’s something they didn’t teach in the textbooks.
I should have called Katie and asked her what questions to pose. I don’t have a clue what I’m supposed to do once we get in there.
As they turned the corner she saw the neon sign. Her stomach churned.
Thanks to her degree, and the studying and observing she’d done the last year, maybe she could at least fake her way through this thing. Gather the information. It was an easy first step. Mar almost snorted at that.
Jackson stopped halfway down the block and turned to her. “Are you okay? You seem nervous.”
“Nervous?” She repeated his words because she wasn’t sure what to say. As far as he knew she was a seasoned professional, a jaded detective who did this sort of thing all the time. “Of course not. Still a little jet-lagged.” Liar. “I’m trying to determine the best course of action. Deep thoughts and all that.” Shut up. Deep thoughts? What the hell am I saying?
Eyeing her curiously, he smiled. “Like I said before, it’s probably best to act like we’re together. If you don’t mind, I’ll take the lead. I’ll ask for a couples massage, then we can tag team them.”
At that her eyes snapped up. Naked? In a room with Jackson? Oh, my. “Sure, I’ll take your lead on this. You know the area and the people better than I do.” Her voice came out as a whisper.
“It will probably be easier to get information if we have a couple of the girls alone. While we’re getting the massage we’ll try to talk to them.”
Sounded like a great plan to Mar—one where she didn’t make an idiot of herself by running back to her hotel to hide under the covers. She would never do that, but she’d thought about it more than once throughout the evening.
There was one big problem in giving up—Stonegate had a one hundred percent success rate on closing cases and she refused to be the one to screw that up.
No. You will pay attention and help Jackson get the information you need. Pretend. Like theater class, assume the role of the doting wife. I’ll imagine he’s the man of my dreams—okay, that won’t be such a stretch.
Since he knew the language, Jackson would be doing most of the talking and she could follow along like a good little puppy. No one need ever know she was a terrified neophyte.
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