Bait: A dark erotic thriller (Hunter & Prey Book 2)

by Barker, Kira

  I had no illusions that, within the hour, Darren would set things in motion to have someone watch me. I didn’t even try to make him work for it; it would be easy to ask the valet about the limousine that had picked me up or get the feed from the security cameras. The number plate would lead to the limousine service, who would tell him where they had dropped me off. And because I had no reason in the world not to set myself up on a silver platter, I’d made sure to use my full name when I’d made reservations at the Peninsula Chicago. In short, nothing would keep Darren from walking into the lobby and waiting for me there, but I was sure that I hadn’t gotten him that far yet.

  But gotten to him I had, that was for sure. I knew that it hadn’t been just the outfit, but I still felt like it had been the perfectly orchestrated “come get me” setup. The whore in the wedding dress—the most blatant reminder of who I was. Now I’d just have to get rid of that girl, but that couldn’t be that hard a quest, considering that the moment he had laid eyes on me, she’d been invisible to him.

  Now if that had disturbed me a little less—or been something else than a guarantee for never sleeping another minute until this was over—things would have been just peachy.

  As the limousine made its slow way through the heavy evening traffic, I couldn’t help but wait for the inevitable breakdown—but it never came. There was just that cold, numb feeling spreading throughout me, even more stark now after that brief flash of light in the ballroom. I really didn’t like what that said about the state of my psyche, but I’d known that there would be casualties from the moment that Agent Smith had tracked us down in that dingy diner. Now all I could do was cut my losses and try not to drown.

  The valet at the Peninsula held my door for me as I got out, and I stalked right through the lobby to the reception desk. Philip was already waiting for me, stepping away from where a couple was right now waiting to check in, which earned me the typical immediate stink-eye—not that I cared. I felt oddly vindicated that the woman practically glared at my outfit, sizing me up and discarding me in a moment.

  “We have your penthouse suite prepared for you, Ms. Thompson,” Philip said, already pushing the key card toward me across the counter. The hag’s eyes grew just a little wide at hearing that.

  “Thank you,” I replied, putting the card away.

  “Everything has been set up to your specifications. I have booked your spa treatments, if you will review your treatment plan? And the personal shopper will meet with you tomorrow at seven sharp.”

  I glanced at the full time table he showed me and approved it with a nod. It was less about me wanting to feel pampered—which I kind of did, but with what was breathing down my neck, I doubted that the full-hour massage would do anything to work the kinks out of my shoulders—and more about my body being in dire need of erasing the last seven months of abuse. The hair color was really the least of my concerns and the easiest to fix.

  “Perfect.”

  “Breakfast will be delivered each morning at six, as per your request, or whenever you call down. Our kitchen staff is ready for you 24/7.” I nodded again, then signed the stack of papers he pushed at me. “Do you already know how long you will be staying?”

  I shook my head as I returned the pen to him. “At the very least several weeks. I hope that won’t be a problem?”

  “Of course not,” he assured me, likely already planning what he’d do with the commission for managing to book their insanely expensive, floor-spanning suite for an undefined time.

  “I will have the deposit wired to you within the hour.” Because the ten bucks in my purse—all that was left from my last paycheck—wouldn’t even get me into the elevator in this hotel.

  “Here is the phone you requested.” He pushed a brand-spanking-new phone across the table, complete with the paperwork for the SIM card. “Will that be all?”

  I nodded, although I was tempted to send him out to buy me panties so that I’d have something new to wear until the personal shopper would return—but that would have been a little too cruel, I figured.

  “No, thank you. That will be all,” I said, then paused. “And, Philip? In about ten minutes from now a very fierce, very angry black woman will come storming into the lobby. Will you please send her up to my suite? Thank you.”

  “Of course,” he acknowledged, not batting an eyelash. Maybe I should have just sent him for fresh underwear after all.

  The ride in the elevator was uneventful and quick, making me stare at nothing beyond the dark wood panelling. Then the doors opened on my floor and I stepped into the foyer, barely noticing the black marble floor and tasteful terra-cotta walls. The lights were off in the room beyond, letting the city lights flood through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I halted for a moment, tempted to go explore and take the view of the city in from the terrace, but instead sat down on one of the sofas.

  Just sitting there, thinking—inactive—tore at my nerves. Now that things were in motion, I had a million tasks to do, people to call, meetings to arrange. To make sure that no one would be able to follow us, Adam had enforced a mandatory complete blackout, to the point where I had no idea what was up with my finances or anything. The fact that I was sitting here, in this suite, I only owed to the fact that I’d known Philip for a long, long time, and when I had called, he had not only recognized me immediately, but known what kind of weight I could throw around if I wanted to. Had been able to, rather, but he didn’t know that yet, and if things went as planned, he never would. I was aware that I was burning the candle at both ends right now, but I couldn’t make myself care.

  Exactly seven minutes after I’d entered the suite, the fury in the pants suit came crashing into the room, her small entourage, consisting of Adam, Michaels, the driver, and the two not-waiters, trailing after her. I didn’t even flinch, but neither did I try to put any kind of emotion onto my features as Agent Smith stopped in front of me, seething.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she railed, looking a second away from blowing a gasket.

  “Replacing your good-for-nothing plan with one that will actually work?” I suggested, looking back at her calmly.

  Her dark eyes went wide as if she couldn’t fathom how anyone dared have the gall, but before she could go off on me again, I forestalled her by getting to my feet and stepping up to her, meeting her glare from up close.

  “That was not what we agreed upon,” she reminded me.

  “Actually, it is exactly what we agreed upon, only that you read something else into it. Did you really think that you could catch a fish the size of Darren Hunter with a low-budget operation?” Her eyes narrowed, but when she held her tongue—grudgingly, without a doubt—I went on. “I agreed to help you, and this is what I will do. Am doing, as of this very moment, in fact. I knew that you wouldn’t listen to me, so I didn’t bother boring you with the details of my plan.”

  “And what is your plan? Seeing as you can’t even follow the simplest instructions?”

  I ignored her insult. She could do so much better, and it really wasn’t worth it to get riled up over petty squabbles.

  “The opposite of yours, actually. I mean, just show up, let him see me from afar while I keep weaving in and out of the crowd, like a ghost? What did you think that would accomplish?”

  “Make him aware of your presence and lure him closer,” she pressed out between gritted teeth.

  “You are aware that Hunter isn’t just some random little street crook who will run at the very notion of the cops being on to him? Just seeing me somewhere in the crowd would barely even draw his attention, let alone make him jump to action.” That part I wasn’t sure about, but my entry certainly had made it impossible for him to remain passive.

  “So instead you did what?” she asked, still exasperated, but I could see that I had her there. She hated it, but she’d known from the start that sooner or later she’d have to let me have the reins. Maybe not this soon.

  “Instead, I put myself in easy reach o
f him where he simply cannot ignore me,” I offered.

  “This is a risk.”

  I couldn’t help but snort at that.

  “Are you kidding me? I’m walking around here, all out in the open, with a target painted all over my body, and you call that a risk? Just coming anywhere near a thousand-mile radius of the city is a risk.”

  Agent Smith gave me a haughty look, then let her eyes roam over the lavish furniture of the suite. “I’m not paying for this.”

  “Of course you’re not. You couldn’t even pay for a decent outfit for tonight,” I shot back.

  “Three hundred bucks should have been enough—“

  “Not even for the shoes,” I replied. “But don’t worry, I’m paying for this myself.”

  Her brows shot up. Clearly she’d had a look into my checking account before, although I was sure that she hadn’t gotten a court order for it.

  “With what? Are you going to put out again?”

  I hated that the accusatory tone made me defensive, but there was no helping that.

  “Personally, no, but it is the logical next step to get back into the saddle.”

  Possible tax evasion first, now prostitution—Agent Smith really wasn’t happy with not being able to rise to the occasion and tear me a new one for the slew of criminal activity I carelessly tread upon.

  “You didn’t mind that the tax payers paid the cost it took to fix up your hand.”

  “Send me an invoice,” I offered blandly.

  “So what’s your grand plan now? Don’t think I don’t realize that you’re avoiding answering me.”

  I ignored that jibe.

  “Tomorrow, I will meet with my old madam. Either she will help me, let me use her business as a front, or I will have to start my own. This suite is large enough to double as my base of operations should I have to do all the legwork myself. Hell, there’s even a second bedroom where the girls could fuck their clients. You see? The perfect setup.”

  I had proposed something similar already, but she’d shot me down then. Now she seemed to realize that I wasn’t just randomly grasping at straws.

  While the others had kept silent so far, I heard a snicker from one of the agents at that, but it was Adam who cleared his throat. When neither Agent Smith nor I looked at him, he stepped up to her where he forced himself into my field of vision.

  “You really want to take over the escort agency? After everything that’s happened?”

  He sounded hurt, although he was trying to hide it. I held his gaze for a moment, then had to look away. I knew that he realized that this was a step back from the path we’d been on together since fleeing the city. Sure, Agent Smith might have forced us to work with her and that came with concessions to be made, but it took that statement from me for him to realize that I wasn’t just physically withdrawing myself by setting up this suite.

  “I don’t know,” I lied, glad now that the lack of emotion in my voice also leeched the thread of guilt from my tone. “First, we have to catch Hunter. And I have to survive that, too. After that, who knows?”

  None of the agents protested my somewhat dry assessment of the situation, but Adam wasn’t so blasé about things. Heat crept onto his face, his eyes narrowing.

  “You do know. You never do anything without a plan,” he accused.

  “Except for falling in love with the wrong guy, you mean?”

  That retort was a loaded one, much more so than even our handler seemed to realize. How the fact that Adam was pretty much acting like a lovesick puppy around me while I was about as responsive as a dead fish could have eluded her was beyond me—but then it was entirely possible that she simply didn’t care. Our deal was that, in case we managed to get enough concrete evidence on Hunter so she could properly get him convicted, Adam and I both would get complete immunity, rendering his skills useless to her. That in itself must rankle—he had been her forced-into-service pet hacker for years. But maybe the baggage he now came with was no longer worth the anger over losing him?

  And, sure enough, dragging a big fish like Hunter on land would sweeten the loss somewhat.

  “And after you’ve set yourself up as the queen of whores, what’s next?” Trust it to Agent Smith to bring the conversation back onto less loaded territory.

  “Then I make him come for me,” I replied.

  “Now why don’t I like the sound of that?” Adam ground out, glaring daggers at me from beyond his watchdog’s shoulder.

  “It’s the only way,” I explained. “He’s already unstable. With the right incentive, the right push, it can’t be too hard to make him slip up. The only reason why no one has ever managed to get anything on him is that he was meticulous in his methods. That’s going to change now.”

  “And you really think he’s going to fall for that?” Agent Smith asked.

  “Yes. You should have seen him tonight. Now that he has me right where he wants me, he’ll drop the girl, so one less concern for you,” I remarked. “And when it’s just him and me, you don’t really stand to lose anything, right? I mean, if worse comes to worst, you can convict him over my cold, dead body.”

  Adam winced, but his handler looked disturbingly calm about that option.

  “Your plan is half-assed at best. I want a status update as soon as you have finished setting everything up.”

  I was surprised that she gave in that easily and didn’t even insist on crowding her operation into my new home, but then I didn’t think for a moment that there wouldn’t be two surveillance cars parked right outside from now on. And maybe the fact that my core idea was the same as hers—make him slip up in whatever way possible—helped. That it might come with my untimely demise was maybe a bonus for her.

  “Will do,” I promised, raising two fingers in a mock oath. “Anything to save our country.”

  That got me the glare I likely deserved, but it also made her turn around and jerk her chin at her flunkies, signaling their retreat. Adam lingered for a moment, but he seemed to realize that my plan didn’t exactly include him—or else I would have talked to him already. His frustration was visible in every line of his body.

  “You’re going to stay with them?” I asked, hating how much like a traitor that made me feel. I’d presumed they’d hunker down in his old apartment, and maybe approbate mine next door, too.

  “Do I have a choice?” He paused, then exhaled slowly. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  I nodded, if reluctantly.

  “I’ve had seven and a half months time to plan this.”

  He looked up sharply, but it only took a second for the pain in his eyes to subside, crushed by what he must have seen coming in the moments where he wasn’t deluding himself with hope.

  “You always planned to come back.” Not a question, and all the more accusation for it.

  Sighing, I looked away, my gaze snatching to the scars on my hand—and the white-gold band wedged below where the bones of my ring finger had fused together crookedly.

  “Not at first,” I said, happy that, in this, I didn’t have to lie. Looking back up, I found Adam’s gaze and held it. “And I didn’t come back for him. Not in the sense of wanting to be with him again. I’m here because we“—I jerked my head toward the agents at the back of the room—“are coming for him. That’s all.”

  “So you want revenge?” he asked. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was a loaded question.

  “Of course. Why the hell wouldn’t I? With everything that he has done to me—“

  Adam’s ironic smile made me cut off.

  “There were security cameras in the ballroom, you know? The equipment in the van wasn’t good enough to hack them, but the rig in my tablet is. You should have seen your face when you saw him. Maybe then you’d stop lying to me.”

  There was nothing I could say to that—except that this shouldn’t have been news to him, not after the painful dance around each other that we’d been through since leaving the city—so I didn’t. “I’m sorry” really
wouldn’t have cut it.

  A loud knock at the door interrupted our increasingly uncomfortable moment, giving me an excuse to step away from Adam and join Agent Smith where she was letting Philip into the suite, heavily burdened as he was. I stared at what he was carrying for a moment, then looked at the table in the center of the foyer.

  “Please put them down there. Thank you.”

  He did as told, but that clearly wasn’t everything yet.

  “The manager bid me to welcome you to our hotel again, and told me to inform you that your suite has already been paid for for the duration of the first month.”

  I glanced at the clock on the wall. Less than twenty-eight minutes had passed since my arrival. That speed surprised even me.

  “Thank you,” I said, dismissing him, but Agent Smith wasn’t satisfied with that.

  “Paid for by whom?”

  Philip gave her a benign look that was, in and of itself, the worst rebuke I figured he could allow himself. It certainly spoke loud and clear.

  “Why, Ms. Thompson’s husband, of course.”

  I waited until the door had closed behind him before I walked up to the ticking bomb he’d left—a bouquet of white roses and lilies, like a bridal bouquet, but to me they looked more like a funeral arrangement. Picking up the accompanying card, I took one look at it, then handed it to Agent Smith. There were only two words on it—Love, Darren—but they were in his handwriting, clearly not just the hasty scrawl of the florist.

  “Do I need to say ‘I told you so,’ or do you believe me that I know what I’m doing?” I asked, giving her a smile—but it wasn’t a warm one.

  She looked down at the card, then dropped it onto the vanity by the door as she left. Adam was the last to follow, giving me one more frustrated, hurt look. And then I was alone—with my thoughts, my fears, my plans, my reservations—but above all else that damn deep-seated longing in my chest that was now burning brighter than ever.