Kneeling behind her on the bed, he forced her hand away from her sex and placed her palms on the mattress. “That’s my job, lovely.”
He used his knee to widen the spread of her legs and rolled the condom onto his throbbing cock. Then he placed his hands on the cheeks of her ass and spread her wide.
She pushed back, her body asking for what it wanted, and he positioned his tip at her entrance. Her heat burned through the condom, letting loose the last of his reason.
He plunged into her with a fast, hard thrust.
She cried his name into the room, and he reached around, slid his hand down to her clit and made circles with his fingers while he sank even deeper inside her.
“Ronan…”
HIs name on her tongue was an aphrodisiac, and he forced himself to pull out, resisting the urge to come.
He wasn’t even all the way out when she pressed back for more, gasping for breath as he worked the seed of her clit, swelling under his fingers.
“I’m going to come,” she said.
He removed his hand from her clit. “Not yet.”
She pounded the bed in front of her and he used his hands to spread her ass, holding it open for his cock, watching it disappear inside her pussy and emerge glistening a second later.
He drove into her with abandon, no longer in control of his movements as he plundered her body, listening to the hitch in her breath that told him she was going to come anyway. The movement of her back as she pushed against him was sinuous, erotic.
“Oh, god… I’m coming,” she gasped.
The words broke the tether of his control and he let loose with a growl, her channel clamping down on him as he came.
She shuddered around his cock, her moans going on and on as she milked him dry. She pressed back against his shaft as he drove into her, pulling away when he pulled out, the impact of their coming together so fierce he would have been afraid he was hurting her if not for the moans of pleasure coming from her mouth.
When she finally stopped moving he left a trail of kisses on her back, lapping at the salty sheen of her sweat before he pulled her into his arms on top of the bed’s coverlet.
They lay in silence for a long time, her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder like two pieces of the same perfect whole.
The hammering of his heart had nothing to do with physical exertion and everything to do with the knowledge that the woman in his arms belonged to him.
It didn’t matter that they’d known each other a short time, that they’d met as rivals, had gone to bed without any kind of understanding. There was a reason he’d been alone all these years, a reason he hadn’t fallen in love.
He’d been waiting for her. He saw that now.
And tomorrow night she wanted to walk into Gold, put herself at the mercy of Manifest, risk her life to save her sister.
The thought opened up a pit of despair inside him.
“What’s going to happen?” she asked, her voice soft through the dark.
He tightened his arms around her. “I don’t know.”
26
On Ronan’s insistence, Julia spent the afternoon at the hotel spa. It had felt perverse at first: being pampered while Elise was out there, probably fighting for her life.
But she’d been edgy after the breakfast Ronan had ordered to the room, had had difficulty eating from the sumptuous spread of buttery french toast, perfectly cooked eggs, delicate local pastry, fresh fruit, and coffee.
It would be hours before they could go to Gold, hours that stretched out in front of her like a winding path, except this path was filled not with monsters but her own dark thoughts.
Ronan had finally pulled her into his arms. She was still wearing the hotel bathrobe she’d thrown on to cover her nakedness when room service arrived, her body still sore and satisfied after the night spent in his arms.
“Go to the spa. They’re expecting you.” He’d placed a finger over her lips when she’d tried to protest. “It will do you good, relax you for tonight, and I have work to do anyway. We can talk more about Gold when you get back. I’ll have more information then.”
She’d put up a fight, but in the end, he’d been right. She was jumpy, and jumpy wouldn’t help Elise when Julia walked into the lion’s den tonight. She needed to relax, get herself together.
Their driver — she’d learned his name was Amari — had accompanied her to the doors of the spa, a precaution she’d thought was unnecessary but had agreed to when she saw the worry in Ronan’s eyes.
She spent the next three hours soaking in a private mineral bath as soothing music played through hidden speakers, allowing her body to be pummeled and massaged by a masseuse who made her moan, followed by a facial that left her skin tingling and dewy.
By the time she’d returned to the suite, she was almost relaxed, and she’d entered the living room to find Ronan sitting at the table by the big windows, his brow furrowed as he stared at his laptop.
He looked up as she came in, but the smile he gave her was forced. “Feel better?”
She nodded and slid her hands around his neck from behind, leaning in to kiss his unshaven cheek. “Much. Thank you.”
She turned her eyes to his computer screen, words jumping out at her from the text of what looked like a report from MIS.
… secrecy… high-level members… criminal activity… trafficking of women and others…
The knot she’d spent three hours loosening tightened in her stomach. “Is that about Elise?”
He closed his laptop and turned to face her, pulling her into his lap. “Yes.”
“Can I read it?” she asked.
“It would be better for me to distill it,” he said.
She opened her mouth to push back, then reconsidered. MIS was still his business. She didn’t have the right to confidential company documents.
“Okay.”
“Manifest is more far-reaching than we thought. Our intel points to an international clientele that controls more than ninety-nine-percent of the world’s wealth and possible Manifest locations all over the world.”
“It’s what we suspected then.”
“Worse. Their infrastructure is sophisticated and well-established. People like Seth bring in the assets: girls like Elise, boys too. The victims are brought to a secure but low-key transit point first — we think that’s what the Whitmore Club is.”
“A place to pass through on the way to somewhere else?”
He nodded.
“Where?”
“Our people have only identified the second layer: places where the victims are housed longer, either for some kind of training or behavior modification, or while the organization makes long-term plans for them.”
“Behavior modification?”
His expression was pained. “Bringing them under control, teaching them not to fight, possibly getting them hooked on drugs to keep them amenable."
Her stomach turned over and Ronan tightened his arms around her waist, still covered by one of the spa’s posh towels.
“What kind of long-term plans?” she asked, returning to his explanation.
“We don’t know yet,” he said. “We’re working on it.”
“So if the Whitmore is a transit point, Gold is part of the second layer,” she said.
“We don’t know that for sure, but it’s possible.” When he spoke again his voice was wary. “Which is why you can’t go tonight.”
She stiffened. “What are you talking about? Of course I’m going.”
“You’re not,” he said through his teeth. “It’s too dangerous."
She slid off his lap and looked down at him. “They invited me.”
He stood, unfolding himself to his full height, and looked down at her. “Do you think they invited you for a complimentary bottle of champagne, Julia? They invited you to get you here, away from the States, to a place where they’re the law.”
“A place where my sister might be held prisoner.”
His eyes
burned with anger. “A place where you might join her if you’re reckless enough to accept the invitation.”
All the fight went out of her as he said it. She wasn’t stupid. She’d known all along she was bait. Had known what she was walking into the minute Ronan had told her the gold symbol belonged to a club in Dubai.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, her eyes on the Gulf. It was overcast, the steely sky making the water look cold and forbidding.
“Please tell me in what universe this doesn’t matter,” he said behind her.
“She’s my sister.” Julia turned to face him. “That’s all there is.”
He walked toward her, his mouth turned down, sympathy overflowing his eyes.
He put his hands on her shoulders. “Which is why if she’s there, I’m going to get her out,” he said.
She shook her head. “It won’t work, and I think deep down you know that. It’s me they want.”
“And if you think they’re going to get you, you’ve lost your mind.” His voice was low, an edge of danger in it she’d never heard before.
“They’re not going to let you in,” she said. “Not without me.”
“That’s my problem, and it’s a problem I’ve solved before.”
“I can’t risk it. If Elise is there and they see you without me, they might move her again, and this time I might not get an invitation. She’ll be lost forever.”
He stepped away from her and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “These are bad people, Julia. Powerful people — billionaires and politicians and some of the most cutthroat criminals in the world.”
“I figured,” she said, “which is why it’s going to take both of us to save Elise.”
“I can move faster without you,” he said, his voice hard. “You’ll be in the way.”
She sighed and slid her hands around his neck. “It’s not going to work.”
He set his mouth in a hard line. “What?”
“Trying to push me away, acting like you don’t want me there.”
“I don’t.”
“You know what I mean.” She bit her lip. “This is a two-person job.”
“We’re not partners.”
“We are,” she said, “whether you like it or not. Pretending to hate me isn’t going to change that.”
He exhaled and rested his hand against her cheek. “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”
She forced a smile. “I know.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss him. “I'm going with or without you. I'll be safer with you.”
He shook his head and cursed under his breath. “It’s a mistake.”
She looked into his eyes. “I’ll get us to Elise,” she said. “You just get us out.”
27
Ronan crossed his arms in front of his body as the elevator rose in the building downtown, positioning himself slightly in front of Julia, his eyes on the security cameras hidden in the ceiling.
“Why go to so much trouble to hide the club online if they’re just going to let anyone upstairs?” Julia asked.
“We haven’t gotten to the entrance yet,” he said. “This is for them.”
“What do you mean?”
“This way they get a look at everyone who approaches the club. They can have personal details and background on anyone who steps into this elevator in minutes. And they can still turn anyone away from the door.”
The club was at the top of a high-rise in downtown Dubai. The building was advertised as an “impressive and luxurious” location for the world’s most innovative and successful businesses, but Ronan had a hunch tenants were limited to companies with ties to Manifest, the building just an expensive cover for Gold.
They reached the penthouse level and the elevator doors slid open.
Ronan took Julia’s hand and they stepped into a shadowed foyer, soft lighting along the walls, music pumping from beyond the elaborate gilt doors at the end of the hall. Two meaty guards flanked the doors, one with a shaved head, the other with a thick head of dark hair, both in five-thousand-dollar suits. They watched as Ronan and Julia approached.
Ronan hated that she was here. Hated that he hadn’t been able to talk her out of coming.
He would have left her back at the hotel if he hadn’t been sure she would follow through and come on her own. It was like being back in Afghanistan, trying to protect a civilian while they fought the enemy, an enemy who didn’t give two shits whether civilians became collateral damage.
Except this time the civilian was Julia, a woman who had cracked open his heart when he wasn’t looking.
There was a reason surgeons didn’t operate on family members, a reason lawyers were advised against representing loved ones in high-stakes court cases. Emotion clouded your vision, and no emotion was more powerful than love.
They reached the doors and one of the guards glanced from Julia to him and back at Julia again. Ronan wanted to gouge his eyes out, hated that Julia was so exposed to these monsters in the tiny red dress she’d chosen from the ones he’d had sent to the room.
“Julia Berenger,” she said. “I was… invited.”
“You’re not on the list,” Shaved Head said.
“I don’t know about any list,” she said, her voice haughty. “But I was invited.”
“You’re not on the — ”
Shaved Head stopped talking and held his hand to his ear where an earpiece snaked from inside his jacket. His eyes skipped back to Julia as he lifted a tiny mouthpiece to his lips.
He said something in Arabic, and the other guard stepped back as Shaved Head opened the doors. Music roared into the hall, sweeping lights and a sea of shadowed bodies appearing beyond the doors.
“Have a nice evening.”
Ronan tightened his hold on Julia’s hand. They stepped into the club.
28
The club was massive, gold, silver, and blue lights strobing across its interior as EDM pumped through speakers that served to blot out any hope of conversation. Massive screens hung from the ceilings, an ever-changing display of abstract shapes and colors moving fluidly across them, eye candy for the crowd hopped up on Molly and X and who-knew-what-else.
Julia held tight to Ronan’s hand as he stepped into the masses, his shoulders parting the crowd like an ocean liner in rough seas. His hand was an anchor, and she held fast to it while she looked around, trying to get a feel for how the place was laid out.
It was three stories tall, the main floor host to a poured concrete dance floor flanked by blue velvet sofas and chairs arranged in seating areas for VIPs. Stairs led upwards to the second floor, a mezzanine that was open to the first floor, separated by glass half-walls.
The second floor looked like a more prestigious VIP area, velvet curtains lining some of the seating areas. Servers moved between the first and second floors carrying bottles of champagne and other liquor, providing bottle service to the people who wanted to pay for it.
The crush of bodies got thicker as they worked their way further into the club, and Ronan slowed down, either because he was doing recon on the place or because he was afraid of losing her in the crowd.
Probably both.
Another set of stairs led to the third floor, but a wall at the top prevented her from seeing how it was laid out. It was anybody’s guess whether it was yet another level of VIP service, host to offices for the people who ran the club, or something more sinister — like a place to keep “assets” while they submitted to “behavior modification” en route to their next location.
Julia had no doubt there were other hidden rooms behind the bars on three sides of the ground floor, behind the DJ set-up on a platform above the ground floor, and beyond the visible VIP space on the second floor.
But her eyes were glued to the third floor. If Elise was at Gold, she was through that door, behind that wall.
Julia let her hand go limp in Ronan’s as he pulled her through the crowd, toward the bar, probably to tell her to stay put while he looked for Elise.
&n
bsp; But Julia had always known Manifest wouldn’t let him close to her sister.
He’d said it himself: the people behind the secret society were rich, powerful, and smart. They hadn’t maintained the organization by being careless, by letting dangerous men like Ronan close to their operation.
She’d needed him to get to Dubai fast and under cover, but there was only one person who could get close to Elise now that they were here, and it was her.
She waited for a group of drunken revelers to shove through them (were they kids of Manifest members? or were they allowed into the club as potential “assets” like Elise?) to make her move.
Ronan shoved back, annoyance flashing across his face as they shouted and laughed, jostling Ronan and Julia without seeming to notice.
A twenty-something guy reeking of expensive cologne clipped her shoulder, and she released her hold on Ronan’s hand, letting her fingers slip from his as she stumbled back.
She caught a flash of his expression — anger mixed with fear — in the light spinning through the room.
Then she ducked into the crowd and headed for the stairs.
29
Ronan had never felt panic before. It was a realization he registered as if from afar: that for all the times he’d been in life or death situations, all the times he’d snuck into a heavily armed compound, all the times he’d parachuted out of a plane or dived from a boat in the middle of the night, he’d never been truly scared.
And there was no other way to describe the dread that seeped through his body when he’d felt Julia’s hand fall from his, when he’d spotted her face, flashing an unspoken apology as she’d slipped into the crowd.
He forced himself to breathe, to think tactically. This was a rescue mission, nothing else. He couldn’t afford to let it be anything else. Julia’s life — and possibly Elise’s— depended on his treating it like any other mission.
He kept moving, not wanting to draw attention to himself. There were cameras everywhere, and he had no doubt the people from Manifest who ran the club already knew who he was. Julia’s separation would be a benefit to them, but that didn’t mean they were going to let him move through the club unimpeded.
Murphy’s Law: Murphy’s Law Book One Page 13