ALIEN SHIFTER ROMANCE: Alien Tigers - The Complete Series (Alien Invasion Abduction Shapeshifter Romance) (Paranormal Science Fiction Fantasy Anthologies & Short reads) (168 page)

Chapter Five

              Silvatech’s accounting division occupied an entire floor of the building, through which Kameko walked with Jake to the division manager’s office.  The cartel’s agent had avoided the more sensitive departments and hidden in plain sight among the number-crunchers, which even she had to admit had been a brilliant move.

              As soon as the manager’s mousy-looking secretary saw Jake, she jumped up.  “Mr. Silvar, good morning.  May I help you?”

              Jake smiled.  “I need to speak with Kyle, Ms. Garcy.”

              The secretary’s hand shook as she opened the door to announce them, and Kameko gave the other woman a sympathetic smile as she followed Jake in. 

              “Mr. Silvar.”  Kyle Blake got up slowly, as if in pain, and came around his desk.  “Is there something you need?”

              “Please stay,” Kameko said when Ms. Garcy began to back out of the office.  “We may need your help, too.”

              “Of course.”  The other woman closed the door, and listened as Jake told her boss about the terminal that had been used to steal the schematics.

              “That is my IP address,” Blake said after looking at the slip of paper.  “But Mr. Silvar, I’m just getting back to work.  I’ve been home recovering from surgery for the last two months.”

              “The thief could have come in here and used his terminal, I suppose,” Kameko said to the secretary.  “Do you know of anyone who used Mr. Blake’s office while he was gone?”

              Ms. Garcy frowned.  “Well, there was the man from IT, but he just came to install some new software a few weeks back.”  Her eyes widened.  “You don’t think he did it?”

              “No, I don’t.”  Kameko moved, putting herself between the secretary and the door.  “I think you did, Ms. Garcy.  Or is it Garcia?”

              “Me, a spy?  Are you kidding?”  The mousy woman faked a laugh.  “I think you’re very confused, Ms. Saito.”  She turned to Jake.  “Or maybe your assistant is trying to frame me, sir, for something she did.”

              “I rather doubt it,” Jake said.  “Seeing as she’s British intelligence.”

              Kameko saw the secretary reaching into her jacket, and drove her foot into the side of her knee, dislocating it.  As the other woman screamed and toppled she straddled her and plucked the gun from her hand.  “I’ll take that, thank you.”

              Kameko unloaded the clip and removed the bullet from the chamber before she handed the weapon to Jake.  “Mr. Blake, may I borrow your tie?”

              The manager nodded, a dazed look on his face as he slowly removed his necktie and handed it to her.  Kameko used it to restrain the sobbing secretary before she went out to sit behind her computer.

              “They wouldn’t have sent someone after me if they had the schematics,” she told Jake when he came to join her.  After a quick search, she found an enormous file hidden in the secretary’s e-mail archives and accessed it.  “Where would you like me to send these?”

              “Anywhere you like,” Jake told her.  “They’re fake.”

              Kameko stared up at him.  “What?”

              “A year ago the CIA alerted me about the cartel’s interest in acquiring my satellite designs to sell on the black market,” Jake said.  “I’ve been working with them ever since.”  He nodded toward the files.  “The real version of those are being kept in Langley.  I’ve been going there every week for the last year to work on them.”

              Kameko took in a quick breath.  “Your Friday golfing match.”

              He nodded.  “I hate golf.  Always have.”  He touched her shoulder.  “Does this make us even?”

              “I think it does.”  She felt almost proud of Jake for deceiving her, which was no easy thing, and loved him for gentle way he looked at her now.  She loved him, period, and she’d never regret a single moment she’d spent with him, either.  Now all she had to do was get out of the building before she broke down in tears and begged him to love her back.  “Thank you for telling me.”

              “Come on.”  He helped her up from the chair.  “We have to call my country’s spooks now.”

#

              Kameko sat on the balcony of the mediocre hotel room her handler had acquired for her, and sipped a glass of bland white wine as she looked out at the Silvatech building.  Slipping away while Jake had been in a private conference with his CIA associates had been a bit childish, but she hadn’t wanted to say good-bye.  Tomorrow she’d fly to Barcelona, where her next assignment awaited. 

Tomorrow would be the first day of the rest of her life without Jake.              

She turned her head as she heard the doorknob rattle.  By the time the intruder came in, she had taken out her weapon, flicked off the safety and concealed herself.

“Don’t kill me,” a deep, all-too-familiar voice said.  “I come in peace.”

Kameko closed her eyes for a moment before she stepped out to glare at Jake.  “Have you lost your mind?  Do you know how close you just came to being shot?”

“I trust your trigger finger.”  He held up a bottle of wine.  “Plus I come bearing much better booze than the Brits.”

She set down her weapon and strode over to the door, closing it and locking it.  When she turned around Jake was right there, reaching for her.  “Don’t do this,” she warned as she took a quick step back.  “We can’t be together.”

“I’m here, you’re here, there’s a bed.  I brought wine.”  He raised his brows.  “What more do we need?”

She avoided his hands and went around him.  “I’ve lied to you every day since we met.  I left you when I should have stayed to protect you.  Then I let you have sex with me and still kept lying.”

“I can spank you, if you’d like.”  When she eyed him, he shrugged.  “I admit, I do need some pointers on how to deal with your submissive side.”

“I’m not a whore,” she lied.  “That’s just part of my cover.”

“I wouldn’t care if you were.”  Jake watched her.  “I’d want to get you tested, and then I’d talk you into retiring.  Or maybe I’d just buy all the nights you want to work for the rest of your life.”

Kameko told him exactly what she thought of him in Japanese, and then stalked out onto the balcony.

Jake followed, and joined her at the railing.  “I suppose I am kind of a dog for lying to you, but you did the same to me.  Does it mean I really have to suck the rotten eggs of a fat serpent?”

She bit back a laugh.  “And you speak Japanese.  Of course.”

“Damn right I do.”  He put his arm around her shoulders.  “I spent two years in Tokyo working on superconductor research with a crack team of their best designers.  None of whom cared to learn English, oddly enough.”

“I am a submissive, you know.”  Kameko rested her cheek against his shoulder. “That part I never have to fake.  My parents died when I was young, and I was taken in by a woman, who looked after a lot of orphaned girls.  No one knew how she was training us in secret.”

Jake went still.  “Training you to do what?”

“To be submissive concubines.”  Kameko stared at the lights of the city.  “She started by having us watch sex tapes, and then showed us how to masturbate.  We learned to use our fingers and then sex toys.  Some of the girls she convinced to have sex with each other; others she had practice on some men who liked children.  She made it all seem very exciting and beautiful.  She called us her little geishas.” 

He made a disgusted sound.  “That bitch.”

“Most men thought she was a very demure, kind lady.”  Kameko smiled a little.  “She sold me when I was thirteen to a very wealthy Englishman.”

Jake paled.  “What did he do to you?”

“He set me and the other girls free.  The Englishman was a spy working against an international human trafficking ring.  After he threw my abuser in jail, he arranged for me to be placed with a good family.  He even paid for my education.”  She sighed.  “Once I became an adult, he came back and asked me to work for his people in the U.K.  I’ve been a field operative ever since.” 

“So they’ve had you all your adult life.  It’s my turn now.”  Jake turned her toward him.  “I want you to stay here, with me.  So don’t go to Barcelona.”

“I still work for British intelligence,” she reminded him.  “And how do you know about Barcelona?”

“My friends at the CIA were very grateful.”  He nodded and tugged her closer.  “MI-6 doesn’t own you.  Resign.  Then you don’t have to go.”

“Jacob, please.  Don’t do this to me.”  She knocked her forehead against his chest.  “The sex was amazing, and all this espionage seems exciting, but it’s not enough.” 

“Love is.  You love me, don’t you?”  When she reluctantly nodded, he grinned.  “Good.  It would have been lousy to be in love with someone who just liked the sex.”

“You’re in love with me.”  She couldn’t believe it.

“With all my mind, heart, body and soul.  But I can show you, too.”  He lifted her off her feet.  “All you have to do is say no to Barcelona.”

Kameko smiled.  “No to Barcelona.”

THE END

Bound to the Alpha Billionaire

Book 6

(Can be read as a standalone book)

By: Lucy Wynand

The Hitman’s Hunger

Chapter One

“Do you have plans tonight, Mr. Riley?” the flight attendant asked after she intercepted him outside customs.

T.J. regarded her with his skeptical, mismatched eyes.  As petite and blonde as he was big and dark, she had been eyeing him since they left Paris.  His Southie accent and leather coat always made him stand out from the Manhattan suits in first class.  Since sex with him made rollercoasters look tame, however, he had rules:  no nice girls, no fashionistas, and absolutely no one he might accidentally break. 

“Yeah, I do.”  He wondered if he should tattoo his chest with one of those measurement signs that read: “You must be this tall to take this ride.”  Might make his life simpler.  “Sorry, babe.”

She tucked a business card in his shirt pocket.  “My number, in case you change your mind.”  She sauntered off with as much sass as her pencil skirt would allow.

T.J. spotted Arthur Lecourt waiting outside the international arrivals gate.  Although he wore a chauffeur’s uniform, the small, wiry man didn’t hold a name sign.  Nor did he allow T.J. to elude him.

“Please, Mr. Terence,” Lecourt said as he appeared beside him and tried to keep up with his long strides.  “He only wishes a word.”  When T.J. didn’t reply he added, “I am authorized to use force if necessary.”

“That’d be entertaining.”  He glanced at the older man and saw strain lines bracketing his thin lips.  “Your hip giving you grief again, Arthur?” he asked, slowing his pace.

“The arthritis.  They want to replace it.”  He watched T.J. pick up his duffle from the luggage carousel.  “He gave me the Taser, Mr. Terence.”

Because he liked the old thug, T.J. followed him out to the limo parked illegally at the curb.  The back window lowered and another voice from the south of Boston said, “Get in.”

“No.”  The only way to deal with his father was in words of one syllable.  “What?” 

“Get in, Junior, and I’ll tell you,” the elder Terence Jamison Riley said.  “Or don’t, and Arthur will Taser you, throw you in here, and I’ll be late for my three o’clock class.”

T.J. got in the limo and sat across from his father.  “Class?”

“Yoga.”  As elegant in Armani as a reformed mob boss could be, Terence popped a piece of nicotine gum in his mouth.  “Your mother thinks it’ll help with my anger management issues.  I don’t mind so much.  The girls are pretty, and hooboy, so flexible.”  Terence gave him the once-over.  “Why you over here?  Work?”

The old man looked tired, so T.J. took pity on him.  “What do you want, Pop?”

Terence shrugged.  “Same old.  Give up this spy shit, come home and work for me.  I’m legit now, remember?” 

T.J. rolled his hand.

His old man sighed.  “Your mother wants grandbabies.  We’re not getting any younger, you know.  Your sister Margaret’s doing that test tube thing, but it ain’t working out.  Her and Jack are talking about adopting.”

T.J. rolled his hand again.

His father rubbed his eyes.  “Look.  You come home, marry a nice Irish Catholic girl, and knock her up.  It’ll make your mother happy.  She’s happy, I’m happy.  I’m generous when I’m happy, Junior.”

T.J. looked over the seat.  “Arthur, drop me at long-term parking, will you?”

“Do this, and I’ll write you back in the will.  I’m worth ten billion now, boy, and – you’re bleeding?”  Terence jerked aside the collar of T.J.’s shirt to glare at his bandage and then him.  “You got shot?  And you didn’t say anything?”

“Pop?  I got shot.”  As Arthur pulled over T.J. grabbed his duffle.

“Love to Ma.”  When the car stopped he climbed out and didn’t look back.

T.J. walked to a black SUV with a license plate that read HOT4U2.  He input the security code on the door panel keypad and threw his duffle in the back.  Once inside he took keys, a wallet, a cash bundle and a smart phone from the glove box.  As soon as he touched the phone it lit up and buzzed.

“Yeah?” he answered it as he started the SUV’s engine.

“Central is bloody pissed with you, Terry,” a friendly British female voice said.  “Consider yourself severely reprimanded for that cock-up in Paris.  Why are you in America?”

“I’m taking some personal time, Ash.”  T.J. reached under the seat for the untraceable handgun tucked there.  He popped the fully-loaded clip to check the rounds.  “Thanks for the nine.”

              “Can’t have you scampering about unarmed, love.  There’s extra ammo in the boot.”  Ashley’s tone turned crisp.  “We have a vastly unpleasant situation brewing in Berlin.  It will likely go critical by Monday.  That’s all the time we can spare you.”

              “Understood.  Appreciate it, doll.”  T.J. ended that call and dialed the number to his old boxing gym.  When a gravelly voice answered, he said, “Where we at, Mike?”

              “They stashed her in a brownstone in Roxbury,” his former trainer said.  “Some whorehouse for pervs run by a Spanish woman.  She’s got some Eurotrash managing the whole business.  But Terry, you need to turn on News Chat AM.  Turn it on right now.”

              T.J. switched on the twenty-four hour news radio station, and listened as publishing mogul Brian O’Hara finished giving his statement to reporters.

              “We would do anything to save this brilliant, brave young woman’s life,” O’Hara said sadly.  “But we have seven children.  If we pay this ransom, then they will instantly become targets.  We can’t allow that, so we will pray for her.  It is our hope that God, not money, brings her home again.”

                “Cheap prick.”  T.J. shut off the radio and put the phone to his ear again.  “How long we got before they kill her?”

#

              Bound and gagged, the hostage could do nothing but watch as the madam shut off the radio and paced around the room.  The busty brunette muttered under her breath in Spanish as a slender European man named Benton watched.

              “Consuela, darling, calm yourself,” Benton said.  “All is not lost.”

              “Isn’t it?  Your father is a stingy bastard, Sarah O’Hara,” the madam raged as she dragged Sarah up from the floor.  “And you, you are worthless to me now.”  She pulled a dagger from her robe.

“Kill her, and you really do have nothing.”  A slender man who had shown surprising strength when he’d snatched Sarah, Benton seemed bored with the universe.  He lit a thin brown cigar and examined the glowing tip as he exhaled smoke.  “We’ll simply have to get creative.”

The madam turned on him.  “You heard that tight-ass.  He won’t pay a penny for her.  I’d have to drug her to make her into a whore, and then she’ll probably kill herself like half of them do.  So how do you make something out of this, Benton?”

“We find someone who will pay for her.”  Benton came over and inspected Sarah.  “She’s pretty enough.  She might even still be a novice.  Surely there are gentlemen in Boston who would be delighted to enjoy such a young, tasty morsel.  We send out invitations to the right clientele and sell her to the highest bidder.”

“And what happens if she escapes?  She goes straight to the police.  Then we are all going to jail.”  Consuela made an impatient sound.  “Don’t be an idiot.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean sell her as a slave, darling,” Benton replied.  “We allow the winner to use her here, in our little dungeon.  We can even film it.  Torture and rape porn is quite profitable, you know.”

Behind her gag, Sarah swallowed hard.  She’d expected to be killed right away.  Now that she was facing a fate that might be worse than death; she needed to think about ways she might kill herself.

“Yes.”  The madam’s mouth stretched into an evil mirror of the slender man’s smile.  “But there is something that will make us even more money.”