Who Wants to Be a Sex Goddess?

by Gemma Bruce

  “Not nearly.”

  He angled his head to kiss her. “Unfortunately, you’re going to have to hold that thought. I need to get back to the dorm. I told JoJo I’d keep an eye on things. Make sure there are no further confrontations until Demetri is history. Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. I admire a man who takes responsibility. Besides, Katherine Dane just asked me to join her meditation group. It meets at six o’clock.”

  “During dinner?”

  “Before breakfast.”

  Dillon groaned. “So much for your morning swim. Come on, I’ll walk you back to your cabin.”

  Chapter 14

  The first thing Dillon heard when he returned to the dorm was Demetri’s voice coming through the open door of the canteen. Great. The asshole was holding court. From boy toy to babysitter. Life just kept getting better.

  With a sigh, he strode down the hall and stepped into the canteen.

  There was a sudden lull in the conversation.

  Demetri was sitting with one hip on the table, holding a beer can in an arrested gesture. Louis and two other guys were sitting on the couch across from him. They glanced up at Dillon, then looked away. He didn’t care. At least Rusty wasn’t among them.

  He walked across the room to the fridge and pulled out a beer. He popped the top and threw the tab in the trash without ever once looking in Demetri’s direction.

  But he felt Demetri checking him out before he turned his attention back to the others. “Yeah. Well. I won’t be the one fired tomorrow. You can bet your sweet asses on that one.” His voice was self-assured, filled with bravado.

  “If you think it’s gonna be Rusty, then you’re full of shit,” said Louis.

  Dillon sauntered toward one of the empty chairs.

  “And it won’t be Dillon,” said Louis. “There were witnesses. They’ll tell what really happened.”

  “Big deal.” Demetri drained his beer can and tossed it toward the recycling bin, just as Dillon walked past him. It missed his chest by inches. He didn’t flinch, just continued to the chair and sat down.

  “Yeah, it is a big deal,” said Louis. “I’ve been here four summers and I’ve seen it all. I know who’ll be here when the dust clears, and it won’t be you.”

  Demetri smirked at him and popped the top off another beer. There were two unopened cans sitting on the table beside him. Dillon wondered how many he’d already drunk.

  Demetri pointed the new can at Louis. “Listen, punk, nothing’s gonna happen to me. I know things.”

  Dillon stretched back in his chair and yawned.

  Demetri bristled.

  “You’re so full of shit.” Louis sat forward on the couch, his knuckles white where he held his beer can.

  “What things?” asked the guy sitting on Louis’s right. He was one of the newbies. His eyes were round with curiosity.

  “Like how they’ve managed to become a multibillion-dollar enterprise in such a short time.” Demetri held the kid’s eyes for a second.

  And the kid played right into his hand. “How did they?”

  Good. Dillon would love to hear what he had to say.

  “They’re successful because of good management and Dr. Bliss’s charisma,” interrupted Louis. “It’s no secret. Women want validation, and she gets them to think differently about themselves, to see themselves as empowered.”

  Demetri snorted. “Yeah, by castrating men, the bitch. We’re not called slaves for nothing.”

  “She doesn’t call us slaves. Just the women that have been here before. We even call ourselves ‘slaves.’ It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a joke.”

  “It’s no joke.”

  Louis rolled his eyes and flopped back on the couch. “It is to anybody but a Neanderthal.”

  Demetri smirked and flopped his wrist at Louis. “Yeah. To pretty boys like you and Rusty.”

  Louis jumped to his feet. “I like women. I love women. They don’t have to be a threat.”

  But often are, thought Dillon, real threats. He willed Louis to sit back down. He did.

  “Yeah, well, while you’re flitting around waiting on your old bag, the bosses are doing more than opening up her potential.”

  Louis jerked forward. Dillon stopped him with a look.

  The two newbies were staring. Their heads had been shifting between the two men like spectators at a Ping-Pong tournament. In the momentary lull, one of them said, “Like what?”

  Demetri shrugged and looked sly.

  Louis made a disgusted sound and got up to get another beer.

  Dillon wondered if Demetri was just a bragging Neanderthal, or a Neanderthal that actually knew something questionable about Goddess International practices. And if he did know something, was it something that would help Dillon nail a murderer?

  “You don’t know anything,” retorted Louis, sitting back down with his beer. “You just like to hear the sound of your own voice. And if JoJo finds out about the things you’re saying, you won’t just be fired; he’ll probably kill you.”

  Demetri slammed down his beer and heaved himself off the table.

  Louis flinched involuntarily, and a nasty smile spread across Demetri’s face.

  Dillon stood up and stepped between them. “I agree with Louis. I don’t think you know jack-shit.” He waited, silently instructing Demetri to turn his anger on him. Even if the outcome did get him fired.

  Demetri swayed back on his feet, the effects of the beer finally catching up with him. “You’re the one that doesn’t know jack-shit.”

  Oh, great, they had stooped to playground theatrics. “So tell me and then I’ll know. What do they do that the rest of us don’t know about?”

  Demetri grabbed the beer can off the table and drained it. He tossed it toward the garbage can. It missed and rolled along the floor. “I’m not telling. But you’ll see what I mean when I’m still around tomorrow, and you and Rusty are gone.” He snatched the unopened beer from the table and strutted out of the room. “Bye . . . pretty boys.”

  “God, I hate him,” said Louis. “I swear, if he gets Rusty—or you—kicked out, he’ll be sorry.”

  “Just stay out of his way. People like that have a way of hanging themselves in the end.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I’m right.”

  Dillon waited in the hall until Louis went to his room, then crossed the hall to his own. He didn’t feel like sleeping—unless he was sleeping with Ariadne. And that was definitely out for the night. Rusty hadn’t returned from the infirmary. And Dillon wanted to make sure he went straight to bed.

  So he paced the small square, laughing at himself for having gotten into such a ridiculous situation. From covert operative to dorm mother. It just kept getting more absurd. And then there was Ariadne. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her, and yet he knew she was lying to him.

  With any luck he’d have the preliminary report on her background by tomorrow. And her new meditation class would give him a secure time to retrieve the message. It was going to be a bitch having to crawl over the wall every time he wanted to communicate.

  And even if she did check out, he’d still have to decide whether to let her continue her work and risk her stumbling on to the murder conspiracy, or to advise her to get the hell out. If she didn’t check out . . . There were two possibilities. And both were onerous. One, she was another agent. Or two, she was a spy for Goddess International and he might have to take her down with the others.

  He hated that scenario worst of all. Because it meant that Goddess International had somehow found out they were being investigated, his cover had been blown, and she was here to bring him down.

  And that he couldn’t allow.

  ———

  Dillon heard Rusty come in around two o’clock, waited until he heard his door close, then lay down for a few hours’ sleep. But even then he couldn’t rest.

  His waking mind was filled with questions. Why was Demetri so sure Katherine Dane wouldn’t fi
re him? Which one of them killed Imogene Southwaite? Where was Miranda Houston?

  His dreams were filled with Ariadne, and they were no more restful.

  He was up at five-thirty. Took a couple of laps around the compound just to keep busy. Twice, he passed security guards making their rounds. They seemed to be upping their patrol of the grounds. Because they’d discovered the break-in? They usually were more discreet.

  When he saw Ariadne walking toward the Spa for her meditation group, he veered into the trees, out of view. When the guards passed by again, he started up the fallen tree.

  It was a harder climb not having Ariadne waiting at the top, silently urging him upward. Her presence had made it essential for him not to fail. This morning, he was on his own. And though he knew he could do it, he didn’t have the same sense of accomplishment as the day before.

  Once, his foot slipped and the tree bark left a burning scrape down his calf. His heart lurched, but he pulled himself back to both feet and carefully climbed the rest of the way up.

  He hated his infirmity. Before the accident, he could have taken the tree at a run, swung down the other side without thinking. Now he was lucky not to break a few bones in the process. He felt like a lumbering ox getting down the other side and was thankful that Ariadne was not here to see him.

  As soon as he hit the ground, he flipped his phone open and began walking uphill, waiting for a signal to appear.

  He was nearing the lake when the power surged and a message alert appeared on the blank screen. He opened it. And saw the words he was hoping he wouldn’t see. No reporter by name A. M. Still checking. More to follow.

  For a moment he couldn’t breathe; then nausea settled into his stomach. He read the message again, then snapped the phone shut and shoved it into his pocket.

  He walked out to the boulder that overlooked the lake. The water was as smooth as a pane of glass. A window. Slowly he sank down and sat with his arms cradling his knees, looking out over the calm of the water as turmoil built within him. He closed his eyes.

  God damn him for the fool that he was. He’d just been taken. Again.

  ———

  Andy sat in the meditation session thinking about Dillon. Wondering if he was going to be fired. Trying not to think about how she would feel once he was gone.

  Maybe she could intercede for him. Katherine seemed to like her.

  A better use of her newfound friendship with Katherine would be to talk her into letting her use the phone in the business office. Surely they made exceptions, people had lives to deal with.

  The image of the bus ride popped into her head. The flurry of last minute cell calls right before they entered the gates of Terra Bliss. People had been using their cell phones. She’d heard them talking. There was cell reception here. Just not within the walls of the retreat.

  She fought down a wave of excitement. Why hadn’t she thought to take her cell to the lake? She might already know where Mac was. If she hurried, she could make a quick trip over the wall between meditation and breakfast. Then maybe she could relax.

  A buzz of anticipation made it difficult for her to sit still, but she had to because Katherine was making the rounds of the room and was heading her way.

  Andy quickly concentrated on emptying her mind. A hopeless possibility. Katherine whispered something in her ear and continued to the next person. Andy had been too busy pretending to meditate to catch what she said. Probably more stuff about her soul, or enlightenment, or whatever.

  Though she should be grateful to Katherine for suggesting she join the group, because maybe in emptying her mind, she’d cleared enough space for the idea about the cell phone to come in.

  This meditation stuff might be a good thing after all.

  ———

  Dillon knew he was going to be late, but he couldn’t seem to move. Didn’t care to. But he would, because it was his job. He pushed himself to his feet, suddenly feeling incredibly old. He took a last look at the lake, no longer the Eden it had been, but just a lake.

  He didn’t pay much attention to where he was going. It didn’t matter that brambles and branches scratched at his bare arms and legs. He didn’t retrace the path that he and Ariadne had used. He didn’t want to see it again.

  And that turned out to be a good thing, because he would have run right into her as she jogged up the trail.

  He shrank back into the underbrush.

  Meditation must be over, but why was she here now? She should be sitting over a plate of eggs and toast—and he should be serving her coffee. Well, he’d take the repercussions of that later. Provided he was even here later.

  And suddenly he was so angry, he could have choked the life out of her. But he forced himself to stay put. Watched her hurrying up the path, looking neither left nor right, until she was out of sight.

  And then he followed.

  He knew where she was going. And sure enough, she stopped at the lake, climbed out onto the boulder he’d just been sitting on—the same boulder that they’d made love on the day before.

  He pushed the thought away. It was obvious she wasn’t thinking about it. He watched her pull something out of her sweatshirt. Caught the glint as she opened her cell phone.

  He crept closer. He needed to hear that call.

  ———

  Andy looked out across the lake as she shifted impatiently from foot to foot, waiting for the Sim card to engage. Praying that her phone would pick up a signal. Held her breath until bars started crawling up the side of her screen. Yes! Punched speed dial and sighed with relief when she heard the phone connect.

  “Come on, come on,” she pled while several rings went by.

  The phone picked up. “Hi, this is—”

  Damn. The machine. As soon as the tape beeped, she said, “Mom, call my cell. Leave me a message if Mac is okay. I can’t get to a phone often.”

  She ended the call. Tried Galena’s cell, not that she ever answered it. Same message. Tried again.

  “Hello?” said Lucian in his you-got-me-out-of-bed voice.

  “Thank God.”

  “Is that you, Andy? Where are you? Did you find Mac?”

  “No. I was hoping you’d heard from her.”

  “I haven’t. But I’m not home. I got a two-week gig on Lost. Liz already left for location. I haven’t heard from Mom or Betty, though I am in the friggin’ jungle. They might have tried and not gotten through.”

  “Same here. No reception. And no one knows what happened to Mac, just that she went to bed one night and was gone the next morning.”

  “Jesus. What do we do next?”

  “I don’t know.” She suddenly really wanted to go home. “Look. Try to get in touch with Mom or Betty and find out if they’ve heard from her. I’ll try to keep you posted, but I can only receive and make calls outside the retreat. And I have to climb over the wall to do it.”

  “You make it sound like a prison.”

  “Something like. But loaded with hunky men.”

  “Leave it to you. So what are you going to do?”

  Andy sighed. “Keep looking, I guess.”

  “Well, when I left, Mom and Betty were getting ready to come up there and tear the place apart. Just give us the word.”

  “No,” said Andy. “Keep them there.”

  “Maybe they’ve hidden her somewhere.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Should we all come up there? Raid the joint. Torture them until they confess?” Too many movies, thought Andy. “No raids, no torture.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Something glinted in the trees across the lake. A car mirror?

  A signal? “I have to go. I think I’m being watched.”

  “That’s it. You get out of there.”

  “No. If I leave the compound, I won’t be able to get back in.”

  “Well, at least be careful.”

  “I know what I’m doing.”

  “Andy, this ain’t the movies.” For the first time, Andy
smiled. “Coming from you.”

  “Yeah, well, just take care of yourself.”

  “Will do.”

  “Knock ’em dead,” said Lucian. “Roger.” Andy closed her phone and pushed it into her bra. I know what I’m doing. Like hell she did. She was dallying with an angry slave, with a shady personality, and falling in deep infatuation with him, while she should be doing something about finding Mac.

  She searched the opposite hills for the reflection she’d seen. It was gone. Probably just a car traveling on the dirt road she’d discovered.

  All the same, she looked around before she left. Realized where she was standing. She’d made love to Dillon here less than twenty-four hours ago. It had been special. At least it had been for her.

  ———

  Dillon watched Andy scan the horizon as if she was expecting someone. Then he’d seen the signal. A rendezvous? Or the receiver of the call. And why the hell weren’t Talbot’s men all over them? Because, stupid, he probably sent them. Sent her.

  But what was the shit about a raid? There had never been any plans to raid the retreat. Had something happened since he’d been inside?

  Who else would be planning to raid Terra Bliss? The fed’s maybe. There was bound to be some money laundering or something going on here. If the various organizations could just start working together instead of guarding their information like starving dogs with a bone . . . but that would never happen.

  This was getting more complicated by the minute.

  As soon as he was sure she’d returned to camp, he took out his own phone, just in case, but there were no new messages.

  He snapped the phone shut and started back to camp. It was time to find out just which side Ariadne McAllister was on.

  He climbed back up the tree and was about to spring to the wall, when he saw two security guards step out of the trees. They weren’t looking at him, but at the figure in pink sweat clothes, jogging down the path.

  Dillon froze in place, watched while one of the guards took out a notebook and jotted something down. Like time, place, identity? The bitch was going to blow this operation to shit. He squatted on the tree branch while sheer rage coursed through him.

  As soon as the guards had moved on, he sprang to the wall. Ran down the tree trunk and was on the ground before he realized that he’d accomplished the reverse climb with all the agility of his former self. For all the good it did now.