“I’m not the police.”
“Whatever.” I laid my head back against the seat and closed my eyes. I couldn’t believe that I wasn’t on my plane. Suddenly, my eyes flew open and I leaned my face against the glass cage that separated the front of the car from the back. “Wait, where am I going to stay?” I asked.
He sighed. “Where do you want to stay?”
I thought for a moment. “Just take me back to Legacy,” I said. “I can get in touch with Brad and I’m sure he’ll arrange a room for me.”
“I’ll make sure you have a room—and some clothes—before I leave you for the night.” He signaled and pulled onto the road that would lead us to Legacy. When we pulled up, he opened the door and escorted me out. Without the cuffs on, I felt at least passable as a normal person, though I felt like a few people were definitely staring at me.
We walked into the lobby and I spoke to the woman at the front desk, explaining that I had missed my flight (not a lie, I reasoned) and I had been staying in Brad’s suite, and she could call Brad to confirm that if she needed.
“Not necessary, Ms. Young,” she said smiling at me. “We all know who you are, and we’re delighted to have you back, though I am sorry you missed your flight.” She typed a few things into the computer. “Mr. White is traveling for the next several weeks, so his suite is open and available.”
I nodded as if I knew full well that he was traveling, though her words split my stomach in two. He hadn’t said he was going to go anywhere. Of course… we hadn’t exactly left on the best terms.
I got the key fob and walked back to Patrick.
“Everything set?” he asked.
“Yep.”
“Good, then come to the dining room with me. I have some information that you need to have before you go any further in your involvement with Brad White.”
“Um,” I started, remembering vividly the last time Patrick and I had a meal together.
“Obviously I’m not allowing you to use the bathroom,” he said, and gave me the first smile I’d seen from him since he’d rescued me.
“Well, in that case,” I said. “You can buy me lunch; I’m starving.”
We walked into the dining room and sat down at a table in the corner. Patrick selected it; he wanted us to have a private space.
We ordered, and, when the server walked away, Patrick turned to me, a serious look on his face.
“You had asked me about Mavin Toller and his involvement with my assault.”
I nodded, sitting up a little straighter, all traces of my previous snarkiness gone from my voice and face. This was serious. It had always been serious, of course, but with each passing episode it was getting harder and harder to see any humor in even the smaller moments.
“I told you that he was well known to my men. What I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t know at the time, was that he’s a former CIA agent from the United States. Retired, officially, but dishonorably discharged, unofficially. He caused tremendous trouble while he was a CIA agent.”
“That’s how he knew how to find you,” I said.
“Exactly,” Patrick confirmed. “He has the connections he needs to find anyone, anywhere, any time.”
“Why was he looking for you?”
Patrick stopped as the server came by with our salads and an appetizer of grilled ahi tuna. I waited for him to continue.
“Do you remember me asking you if you’d ever heard Brad mention the name Manuel?”
I thought for a moment, and then I nodded. Yes, I remembered the phone conversation, with Patrick in the hospital and me in Morocco with Brad. That seemed like a lifetime ago.
“Manuel is Manuel Brown, one of the top level drug lords and arms deals in the world. He owns most of the underground deals and the people who conduct them.”
I took a bite of ahi and watched Patrick talk. His eyes were animated and I could see in an instant why he had become an NCA agent. For all of the danger and life-threatening situations he found himself in, Patrick got excited by it all. He was in his element, putting pieces together, going after the bad guy, protecting people from the evils of the world. It was hot.
“Okay,” I said. “So what does that have to do with us?”
He looked around and his voice dropped. “Originally, the finger pointed toward Manuel Brown as the one who had kidnapped you. But, it wasn’t him; it was Mavin Toller.”
“Mavin Toller kidnapped me?” I asked, and then I immediately shook my head. “No, I’ve met Mavin Toller, and he was not the man who took me. He wasn’t the other guy, either, the guy who gave me water.”
“Mavin Toller didn’t kidnap you directly, Cass, but he ordered it. That’s how he works. Just like Manuel Brown, he has other people do his dirty work for him.”
“So what do Manuel Brown and Mavin Toller have in common?” I asked.
Patrick looked around again, then leaned in. “So far, the only thing I can determine that they have in common is you and Brad. I don’t know what that means just yet, but I’m getting closer. I can feel it. When Toller had me assaulted—which he did—it was, I believe, a calling card to Manuel Brown.”
I glanced up sharply as our server approached the table from over Patrick’s shoulder with our meal. We ate in silence as I pondered what Patrick had told me. The thought that continued to run through my mind was the picture I’d see on Brad’s desk, the young boy. He was tied up in all of this somehow, I knew. And, I was in Brad’s suite for at least a few weeks without him there; perhaps I could get some time to sleuth around in a way I never could with him around.
We finished our meal and waited until the server cleared our dishes before we continued.
“So, what now?” I asked.
“Now,” Patrick said, drinking the last of his water, “you continue your life here in London as if nothing is the matter. I’ll do what I can to get your passport cleared, and, when I do, you can go back to the States.”
“And what are you going to do?” I asked.
“I’m going to track down Mavin Toller first, and then I’m going to go after Manuel Brown. You need to know,” he said, his voice lowering again, “that Brad is involved in this mess. To what degree, I don’t know. But, you need to know that his hands aren’t clean in this.”
I nodded. While I had originally thought Patrick was completely wrong about Brad, I had to be honest at least with myself in knowing that something had been “off” in my mind about Brad since day one. All of the little details that seemed quirky were now adding up.
“Brad would never assault or kidnap anyone,” I said firmly.
“I didn’t say he would,” Patrick said agreeably. “I just want you to be careful.”
Patrick paid the bill and we walked back out into the lobby.
“Lunch was grand,” he said, “but I need to go back to work catching real criminals, not silly Americans that land on the no-fly list for no reason.”
He hugged me, which was both strange and wonderful. We embraced, and I felt his arms slide easily around me, pulling my body toward his. His chest was warm and he smelled like he’d just gotten out of the shower, fresh and manly.
I waved as he walked to the door, standing in the lobby as long as I could to see him walk toward his car.
I hadn’t yet reached the elevator when the building rocked with the sound of the explosion. I heard shattering glass and watched as several hotel workers ran out onto the sidewalk.
“What the fuck happened?” I asked, walking toward the door. Already, sirens were blaring and police and fire trucks were approaching, the street filling with people and vehicles.
“Some guy just got into his car and fried all to shit,” a man next to me said. “Blew to kingdom come, he did.”
I felt my stomach drop out of my body. My throat dried and I saw stars poking at the sides of my vision.
“Who…” I whispered, but I couldn’t get the entire sentence out before my legs began to give out from under me.
“Whoa,�
� a man said, catching me and sitting me gently on the ground. “Easy there.”
I couldn’t speak. My eyes were stuck on the street, on the trucks and police gathering around a black car I had sat in just an hour before.
And Patrick… my eyes filled with tears. Patrick.
Brad
I couldn’t get her out of my mind. I knew Cassie was on a plane on the way back to America, but it was as though I couldn’t picture her actually leaving London. I boarded my plane and felt it taxi slowly away from the terminal.
My phone pinged and I looked at it; Simon was calling me. I felt my brow furrow in confusion; he knew where I was going, and we had just spoken.
“What is it?” I asked into the phone.
“You can’t leave,” he said. “There’s been another attack.”
My stomach seized up and I felt my heart race. Of course, I couldn’t let that show in my voice, not even to Simon.
“What?” I asked. “Where? Who?”
“It’s not a property,” Simon said. He hesitated.
“Not Cassie,” I said, my voice taking on a tone I didn’t like. I could sense an element of fear in it.
“Not Cassie,” he said quickly. “But it was a person. That NCA agent, Agent Shim, that Cassie was…” he was about to say ‘involved with,’ but changed his course quickly and said, “was questioned by, the one who helped you find and rescue her…”
“Yes,” I said, “I remember him.” I snapped my fingers and, when my flight assistant looked up, I motioned to her to tell the pilot to stop the plane. Her eyes widened and she nodded.
“Well, he was just blown to bits outside Legacy in London. He had, according to witnesses, just had lunch with Cassie at the hotel.”
“That’s impossible,” I said. “Cassie left on a flight to the US this morning. She’s gone.”
“The information I have is only according hotel sources,” Simon said. “I haven’t been there to confirm anything for myself. I’m on my way there now.”
“I’ll call you back,” I said. I hung up the phone and, while I stalked the length of the plane to get to the cockpit to tell the pilot that the flight was canceled and to turn the plane around, I dialed Cassie.
Her voicemail came through after the fourth ring.
“Cassie,” I said quickly into the phone. “Call me as soon as you get this. I need to know where you are, and I need to know that you’re safe.” I clicked the disconnect button and realized I was sweating, flushed with worry about Cassie and the fact that she was not safely on a plane back to the US, but was, rather, possibly at the site of a car explosion.
“What the fuck is going on?” I asked the empty space around me.
The pilot came onto the loudspeaker and said we had been cleared for immediate return to the airport. I called Simon back and, at the same time, texted my driver to ensure my car would be waiting for me.
“Where is she?”
“She’s at the hotel; I’m on my way. I’ll make sure she gets to the suite. Are you on your way?”
“Yes,” I said. “She didn’t answer when I just tried to call.”
“Some of the lines are down around that area; there’s lots of activity, lots of people using up bandwidth, calling, recording, tweeting. You won’t have any trouble locating her when you get here; the hotel staff knows who she is.”
“Why wasn’t she on the plane to the States?” I asked, more to myself, but, of course, Simon answered.
“I’ll find that out as well, of course. I’ve got a call into a gate agent at Heathrow that owes me a few favors. I’ll know within the hour.”
After hanging up the phone, I paced the plane, regardless of my flight assistant telling me to sit down and buckle myself in. It seemed as though time stopped as we taxied back to the terminal and I deplaned. I raced through the terminal to where my driver always met me; he wordlessly opened my door and drove toward Legacy. It was clear Simon had told him exactly what to do and where to go.
When I got to the hotel, the chaos seemed to have diminished slightly, though the streets were still clogged with onlookers and police. Two firetrucks parked right outside the hotel blocked my driver’s path, so I got out at the end of the block and raced into the lobby.
“Cassie,” I said, seeing her sitting on a bench against the wall. One of my managers was sitting with her, her arm around Cassie’s shoulders, holding a glass of water. She was patting her thigh with her palm. Cassie was white, shaking.
She looked up at me when I said her name, and it looked like it took a moment for her to focus in on my words.
“Hi,” she said dully. “You’re back early.”
“So are you, my love,” I said, and I picked her up, nodding to my manager that she should return to her other duties. “Come, let’s get you upstairs.”
I led her to the suite and put her in a warm bubble bath. I helped her undress and stabilized her as she slid down into the water.
I ran a sponge across her skin, soapy water flowing over her shoulders and her back. She looked up at me gratefully, and I ran my finger along her cheek.
“You’re safe,” I said. “That’s the most important thing.”
Her eyes welled with tears, and she pulled me in close to her. I felt my sleeves getting wet, and I pulled off my jacket and shirt, then knelt down at the edge of the tub. It was the nicest tub in the entire hotel; a double hot tub with candle holders, a space for champagne and glasses, and steps that led up and into the tub. Steps on which I was sitting.
“Don’t ever leave me,” she whispered, and she reached her arms out to me. I gazed at her, getting hard at the sight of her even though I knew the timing couldn’t be worse. I stripped off my clothes and got into the tub with her. She immediately climbed onto my lap, straddling me, the front of her body pressing against the front of mine. Her nipples were hard, erect, reaching toward me, and I arched an eyebrow in surprise as she kissed me.
I tried to pull away slightly, not wanting to take advantage of her, but she pulled me to her more tightly than before.
I felt her fingertips wrap around my cock, and I leaned in to kiss her, feeling her smile spread across her lips.
Cassie
He kissed me and I pressed my body to his, feeling the warm, soapy water slippery between our bodies. I wrapped my fingers around his cock, hard and insistent against the inside of my leg. I felt torn; I couldn’t have been less in the mood for sex, but my hunger for Brad was carnal; it was beyond the lust it had been that first night or any night since. I needed him.
I spread my legs, widening my straddle over him, and I guided his cock into me. Its hardness pierced through me and I gasped, feeling pleasure move through me instantly in waves as I rocked against him. His public bone nudged my clit, slowly becoming more and more swollen, and I moaned, my mouth pressed against his.
“Cassie,” he said, “we don’t need to…”
“Yes,” I said, “we do.” I kissed him harder, brought my hands to his neck and began to run soapy water through my fingers over his ears and cheeks. I wanted to touch every cell. He, with my granted permission, began to thrust his hips against me. He gripped me with one hand on my ass and the other on my back, holding me to him as we moved in the water.
I didn’t remember ever making love in the water before; the sensation was full body. Each movement reverberated with the echoes of the water, and Brad felt both hard and soft at the same time. I melted into him and cried out as my orgasm shuddered through me. He rode it out with me as I moaned with each new wave, and, when he knew I was slowing down, he pulled out and picked me up, his arms strong and his grip tense on my body. He wrapped me in a towel and carried me to the bed, where he set me gently, never once taking his eyes off of me. I felt my words, Don’t ever leave me, moving through his mind as he gazed at me. I won’t, his eyes said back, and I reached for him.
He entered me again, my arms pinned down and my legs spread, and this time he let himself go. He pounded at me, his cock pressing apa
rt the folds of my pussy with each thrust, exposing my clit to a pressure that would, I knew, make me explode at least once more before we were through.
“Cassie, were you in that car?” he asked suddenly.
A bolt of fear moved through me as I remembered sitting with Patrick, laughing.
“Yes,” I said, and he wrapped his arms around me, buried my face in his shoulder, and continued to thrust, slowly at first, then faster, faster, faster, until we were moving together and my breath was a continued, gasping cry of ecstasy. When he came, it flooded from his body into mine, and he groaned, a sound that was more growl, more force, than I’d ever heard.
He finished, and he slid off of me, laying next to me on the bed. Our bodies were still covered in suds from the bath; the bed was wet, but neither of us cared. He reached his hand out to mine and interlaced my fingers with his own.
“I have some answers,” I said. “And I think I know who did it. I think I know who tried to kill me. Who killed Patrick. He told me, kind of, before he…” I stopped. I couldn’t say the words.
“Whatever you think you know, Cass, it can wait until tomorrow. Let me take care of you tonight. Are you hungry? I’ll get one of everything up here within the hour. If you’re thirsty, we’ll get water, wine, whatever you want.”
“No, I need to say this. I need to tell you who’s responsible.”
He looked at me with eyes that were at first pleading, then, as he saw I was serious, I watched them gloss over. He had disengaged.
“It was a man,” I said, “a very powerful man. I just don’t know his name. Yet. But, I’m investigating; Patrick, he told me some names to go on, and I’m going to investigate them until I get to the bottom of what happened.”
“The NCA knows how to do their job, Cass,” Brad said gently, rubbing my breast with the pads of his fingertips. “Let them do the detective work. Like you said, you’re not an investigative reporter.”
I looked at his expression; it was guarded. I felt my heart pounding in my chest, and not just from my recent arousal. I knew the time was now: it was now or never.
“Manuel Brown,” I said slowly, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. “Does that name ring a bell?”
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