Beck & Call (2 page)

“Rockets,” Jake interjected.

Curtis nodded. “All kinds of supersonic shit. Plus the systems they need to run. Software. Circuitry. Power supplies so advanced we might not know what they were if we saw them. Lately, allegedly, Call’s been courting the Pentagon. Wants to develop some of his ideas for them. He’s already worth a mint. Who knows how high WorldWide would be valued if he won those contracts.”

“Contracts Genbolt wants,” Mia guessed.

“Contracts Genbolt
has
. Or so I hear. Details of those agreements aren’t public.”

“Where do we come in?” Jake asked. “I know we’ve done corporate work before, but this case sounds big.”

He didn’t seem intimidated, just curious. Curtis shifted his gaze to him. Mia was impressed that he also appeared unfazed. “It could be big if Raeburn’s suspicions of industrial espionage are correct. The trick is that it’s also personal. Raeburn is alleging Damien Call seduced his daughter then used her to steal a cutting edge navigation system Genbolt’s been developing, one that supposedly prevents manned and unmanned aircraft from being hacked. Raeburn wants us to find proof Call filched the plans … without implicating Zoe.”

“If we pull this off, it could bring in a lot of work,” Mia mused. “You could hire another man.”

“I could hire another man
and
double your salary.”

“I don’t need my salary doubled,” she said without thinking.

Curtis laughed.

“Well, I don’t,” she said defensively. “You’re very generous. I pay my bills, and I still save some.”

Curtis shook his head, his smile tinged with wistfulness. “Kid, sometimes you are too sweet for your own good.”

“You can double my salary,” Jake volunteered. “I don’t really need it either, but I’d find a way to cope.”

“Good to know,” Curtis said.

Mia wriggled in her chair. “I still don’t get why Raeburn’s people came to us. They must have researched different firms. Unless it’s your reputation. Because you don’t blab about your clients, no matter what. Maybe you handled a tricky case for someone Raeburn knows.”

Curtis looked uncomfortable. “Actually, I suspect the reason Genbolt came to us is you.”

“Me?” Mia’s face flashed hot. She didn’t relish being noticed by strangers.

Curtis explained sympathetically. “Damien Call is a security freak. Rumor has it his staff sweep for bugs twice a day. Nobody gets a camera into his offices, including camera phones. That being the case, obtaining the evidence Raeburn wants will be tough. Because of your gift, you’re a living recording device.”

Mia didn’t always think of it as a gift, but thanks to an accident she had when she was eight, she did indeed have the ability to remember anything she observed. “Were you hoping Call would hire me as a secretary?”

“Not exactly.”

Mia’s brows shot up at his evasion. “What exactly then?”

“Call has a type.”

“A type?”

Jake snorted from his leaning post on the wall. “He likes wet behind the ears, doe in the headlights brunettes.”

Mia gaped at him and then at her boss. Jake’s implication was clear, though she couldn’t imagine many scenarios less appropriate than this. She was no siren, nor did she expect her boss to put her in that position. “You want me to be a honeytrap?”

“Not exactly,” Curtis said.

Jake laughed again. “I’d call it pretty exact.”

“She wouldn’t have to sleep with him.”

“Oh my God,” Mia exclaimed. “You expect me to be able to squirm out of that kind of situation? Damien Call is a billionaire. He’s not used to people saying ‘no’ to him.” As her panic swelled, more data she’d unwittingly amassed about Call rose up. She recalled an old newspaper photo of him, kneeling among teammates in shoulder pads and a stained jersey. His expression was that of someone who didn’t like to lose. “He played hockey when he was at college. He isn’t some 98-pound nerd.”

“Damien Call doesn’t sleep with women.”

“If he’s gay, you be the honeytrap!”

“He doesn’t sleep with anyone,” Curtis clarified. “He likes to watch.”

Mia blinked rapidly, curiosity warring with disbelief. He liked to watch? Sensations she didn’t want to have at work coiled between her legs. “That’s not possible. I’ve seen him at press conferences. He’s …”

“A sex god?” Jake sardonically suggested when she trailed off.

“Well, he’s not short on testosterone. You can tell by how he carries himself. He’s sexually confident. Like a stallion who’s corralled all the girl horses into his harem.” She fought a blush at Jake’s rising hilarity. “Laugh all you want. I’d bet the rent he’s not impotent.”

Curtis patted his desk as if he could calm her by soothing it. “No one said he’s impotent. Just—” he hesitated “—sexually eccentric.”

“If he’s such a security freak, how would you know that?”

Curtis cleared his throat. His fingers had stopped patting his desk and instead drew circles.

“What aren’t you telling me?” she asked.

“There’s a group,” Jake said, answering for him. “A very exclusive club. Curtis belongs to it, and I attend now and then.”

Mia wasn’t sure her eyes could get any wider. “You mean a sex club?”

Curtis steeled his jaw and answered for himself this time. “It’s for people with particular tastes. Role-play. BDSM. Voyeurs like Call. You don’t get in because of money or power but because management decides you’re trustworthy.”

“And you belong?” Mia’s brain was having trouble computing this. Curtis was gay, but she’d always thought of him as a straight arrow. Buttoned-up. Mainstream. Definitely not the sort to swing from the chandeliers. She blurted out her next thought before she could stop herself. “I thought you hadn’t dated since Mike died.”

The way his face colored up made his eyes extra green. “This isn’t dating. It’s … a more intellectual kind of sex.”

Intellectual
wasn’t a word she associated with sexual activity. Not that she was an expert. She’d only ever had one boyfriend, in her senior year at college. Now she had a million questions. Had Curtis joined this sex club before Mike died? What exactly did he do there? What did Jake do? Did they do it together? Wasn’t Jake straight? Was leather involved? Did they maybe spank people? She recalled the cryptic look Jake and Curtis had exchanged earlier. Had they been thinking about acts they’d witnessed or participated in?

Most importantly, how sexy
was
Jake’s body under those charcoal suits?

She clamped her mouth shut determinedly. Best not to ask questions whose answers she wouldn’t be able to forget.

The tension in her muscles warned her she was wound up. Her hands clamped her coffee cup, and her knees were locked together. She probably looked like she’d joined a convent, though the wild pulsing in her pussy reminded her she had not. Mia might be shy, but she had needs and fantasies the same as anyone. She simply didn’t go around joining secret societies so she could live them out.

Hoping her voice wouldn’t emerge too hoarse, she spoke. “So, um, what is this club called, if I’m allowed to ask?”

“Diogenes,” Curtis said.

“Like Mycroft’s club in the Sherlock Holmes novels?”

“I suppose that’s the inspiration. Diogenes does have a certain … Victorian ambience.”

Mia revised her mental picture to include corsets. She really shouldn’t have done that. She liked the idea of corsets, and her quivering flesh grew steamy. “I assume you can’t bring just anyone there with you.”

“No.” Curtis leaned forward across his desk, his green eyes watching her closely. “There’s another place, a nightclub called Audition. When members need to have a guest approved, they bring them there for vetting. People who’ve heard whispers about Diogenes and want to join show up too. It’s a culling ground for talent.”

“Pretty people.”

Curtis shook his head. “It’s not enough to have the right look or even an interest in S&M. Diogenes’ management is very picky. They want people of intelligence and sensitivity who can be trusted to keep what they see to themselves. People who understand power but won’t abuse it.”

“That sounds selective,” Mia said unsurely. “Maybe too selective to include me.”

Curtis rubbed his temple as if it hurt. Perhaps, given his personal preference, he wasn’t comfortable assessing her appeal. He settled for a dry statement. “You don’t see your own charms.”

“They’ll eat you up,” Jake predicted with less restraint. “Like a freaking braised lamb with mint jelly.”

“I’m not a lamb,” she objected.

“You are,” Jake and Curtis said at nearly the same time.

“You are,” Jake repeated. He took a seat on Curtis’s credenza, the position pulling his crisp trousers taut over powerful thighs. “It’s not an insult. Innocence is an undervalued trait.”

Okay, maybe she was innocent about some things, but that didn’t make her an idiot. “I’m not stupid.”

“No one said you were.” Jake’s hot blue eyes were gentle. “You’re … unspoiled. At your age, it’d be a shame if you weren’t.”

He was looking at her like she was twelve years old. Coming from him, about whom she’d spun more than one illicit reverie, the look couldn’t help but prick her anger. She set down her coffee and crossed her arms. “I’m an adult.”

For just a moment, his gaze gleamed with a different kind of heat. “You are,” he conceded. “But you can’t deny you haven’t been one long.”

“If you think I’m a child, maybe you shouldn’t be asking me to go along with this.”

Curtis broke into their debate with gusty sigh. “You’re too perfect for the assignment not to ask.”

“Why do you keep saying that? The kinkiest thing I’ve ever done was have sex in a car. And I didn’t enjoy it!” She blushed furiously, as annoyed with herself for confessing this as she was by the memory. Her college boyfriend Steve had promised the roadside adventure would be fun but, per usual, he only meant for him.

“That’s why,” Curtis said softly.

“What’s why?”

“Because you radiate sexual interest and at the same time give the impression you’ve never been satisfied. If a man ever devoted himself to you, ever truly paid attention to your needs, you’d explode with excitement.”

“I would not explode!” Belatedly, Mia realized she was squirming on her chair. She stopped the tiny motion and drew in a calming breath. “Human beings aren’t bombs, Curtis. They don’t do that.”

“You’re a born submissive,” Jake interjected. “A man like Damien Call won’t be able to resist watching you unravel.”

He was smiling faintly the way he did, supercilious, his left hand bracing his right elbow while he pushed his right index finger across his lips. He had a good mouth—not full but sensitive looking. The gesture made her imagine kissing it.

Rather than let the fantasy take over, she ground her teeth together. “Just because I get you coffee doesn’t make me submissive.”

“But you enjoy getting us coffee,” he teased. “And, again, it’s not an insult.”

“I suppose you think you could dominate me.”

The curve of his mouth deepened. “That’s not even a question.”

She inhaled sharply, about to challenge the arrogant assumption.

“Enough,” said their mutual boss. “This isn’t helping Mia make her decision.”

“Isn’t it?” Jake asked with sly humor.

A sudden realization caused Mia to sit straighter in her chair, her annoyance forgotten for the moment. “Wait a second. If Damien Call never sleeps with women, how did he seduce Raeburn’s daughter? Unless he’s just that good …”

Curtis smiled. “Not that I know of. We only have Raeburn’s word Call recruited her to spy. His head of security didn’t seem aware of Call’s sexual hobbies. Until evidence shows otherwise, I’m assuming Raeburn isn’t clued in either. He wouldn’t know we have a reason to doubt his tale.”

“And you didn’t enlighten him about Call’s kinks?”

Curtis leaned back in his chair, his hands pressed together in a steeple. “I didn’t think it was my place. Raeburn’s hasn’t officially hired us yet.”

A light bulb switched on in Mia’s head. “This is one of
those
cases. Where you’re not sure we should do what the client asks.”

Curtis’s eyes held a glint of pride at her adding this together. “It is.”

“I notice you’re not informing Call he’s been accused,” Jake said.

“No,” Curtis admitted. “We don’t know what his angle is either.”

“So, depending on what we find, we could end up with no client and no paycheck.” Jake laughed and shook his head. “I knew there was a reason I was willing to call you boss.”

“What is the plan?” Mia asked, still not convinced she wanted to take part. “You bring me to this Audition and hope I draw attention?”

“I hadn’t thought it through completely,” Curtis said.

Jake crumpled his empty coffee cup, neatly three-pointing it into Curtis’s trashcan. “Damien Call has been around the block. It’ll take more than a pretty face and a banging body to catch his eye.”

Despite not wanting to seem susceptible, Mia flushed with pleasure at Jake’s words. She was average height and a little plump. She’d always figured Jake preferred the supermodel type.

“We could dress her up,” Curtis suggested. “She has great legs when she wears heels.”

“She has great everything. But we need to get her close enough to Call for long enough that she has a chance to snoop.”

Curtis scratched the frown line beside his mouth. “You think we need to stage some sort of scene?”

“I do.” Jake looked as sober at the prospect as Curtis did. Though he rarely fidgeted, he tugged the open front of his suit jacket. Her coworkers’ understanding of each other made Mia feel like the odd girl out.

“Guys,” she said. “Maybe you should tell me what you mean.”

Both men looked at her. Though Jake’s blue eyes lasered into hers, Curtis was the one who spoke.

“We’ll get to that.” He reached for his phone and punched in a number. “Sweets,” he said to whoever answered. “I’ve got a situation that requires your magic …”

~

Hillary Sweets ran a secondhand clothing shop in Brooklyn Heights. Rich housewives from Manhattan supplied her stock, the kind of women who couldn’t afford to wear an outfit twice—much less get caught reselling their pricey designer duds. An expert secret keeper, Hillary been known to sneak one client out the back then turn around and let the next in the front. Less known, at least to civilians, was her sideline in high quality fetish wear. This she designed to order, so successfully she supported half a dozen skilled leatherworkers and seamstresses.