Friction (12 page)

“Are you okay? Can you handle this?”

He was asking if she could handle their little scene, knowing they were being taped. To be honest, she hadn’t even thought about it, and resented his bringing it up. She responded, licking his ear, her voice self-assured as she murmured, “Oh yeah…”

Then he was kissing her so deeply she trembled beneath his exploration of her mouth and wanted him just as deeply inside her. But they couldn’t—not while being watched.

She slithered a hand down between them, massaging him through his slacks, and he pressed into her grip, his
breath catching then coming faster as his arousal heightened.

“Maybe we should go back to my room.” He suggested in a ragged voice.

She returned her mouth to his, whispering against his lips, “It would look suspicious to leave now.”

He drew back, looking down into her face, studying her closely.

“Do you want me?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

Meeting his gaze, she responded out loud, not needing to fake the desire in her voice. “I want you. Here. Now. Hard. Fast. However you want me.”

She felt a sweep of satisfaction when he could no longer hold back the hunger in his gaze.

“I could use a shower first.”

“Maybe I should join you.”

“Sounds good to me.”

She followed him to the bathroom, stopping before the door, sliding the dress from her shoulders and letting it hit the floor. She hoped the cameras didn’t get a full view at this angle, and with no lights on, but they’d get enough. She picked up the dress, tossing it over on the bed for good measure.

“I’m all yours,” she said seductively and followed him into the small bath.

“S
HE TOOK
the choker off.” Ian’s fist clenched and unclenched on the desk. Sarah was still unpredictable sometimes, and it riled him to no end.

“I guess she didn’t want to get it wet,” E.J. joked.

Apparently Ian was not in the mood for humor. And he was right. Sarah should never have put herself in a position where she took the choker off—it was their only link to her and what was going on.

“Did you know about this?” E.J. sighed, closing the laptop now that the transmission was gone, meeting Ian’s glare silently without so much as a flinch. They’d known each other for way too long and had been through way too much for him to worry about his friend’s temper. Although it was never comfortable being placed between two friends, and he did feel loyalty to Sarah, he appreciated Ian’s very real concerns.

“Sarah doesn’t say much, you know that.”

“Yeah, right.” He sat back in his chair, reaching out to toy with an empty water bottle he’d left on the desk during their long stint keeping track of Sarah. “Funny, Sage and I always thought you two might—”

E.J. grinned. “I tried. She shot me down.”

Ian quirked an eyebrow, his steely gaze still intent, but glazed with a bit of humor as he watched E.J.’s reaction.

“Why am I not surprised? But I can see why Sarah wouldn’t want to be one of your flavors of the week.”

“I’m wounded. But Sarah’s not exactly the settle down and have babies type.”

“Yeah, I used to think the same thing about Sage.” E.J. grinned, eager to change the subject. He was happy for his friends, but he enjoyed his life just the way it was. He’d been a slave to duty and responsibility for
too long, and it could have ruined his life, always doing what everyone else thought he should do. Now he did what he wanted.

“How’s Sage doing, by the way?”

“Good. As if she doesn’t have a care in the world, still working ten hour days. She actually seems to have more energy than ever. Her consulting business is going like wildfire—no small thanks to all the recommendations you gave her, and to Grace’s business.”

“That’s great.” E.J. laughed, glad to know his sister had taken his advice and hired Sage. Ian was still scowling. “I take it you don’t think that’s great?”

“No, I do…and I don’t. I don’t want her pushing herself, and maybe something going wrong. Things can go wrong.”

Though he enjoyed yanking Ian’s chain whenever he could, E.J. also loved his friend and understood his fear. Back then Ian didn’t know enough to really miss what he’d lost when his wife had miscarried. He knew now, though.

“You may be overcompensating a bit. I’m sure Sage wouldn’t do anything she didn’t feel up to doing. It’s her baby, too, you know. You can trust her to do the right thing.”

“I know. She’s just so…stubborn.”

“She has to be to deal with the likes of you.”

Ian laughed.

“True. It’s still so weird, to think of being a dad. I’d completely ditched that possibility. I just never thought about it again after what happened with Jen.”

Pain and guilt still flickered quickly in Ian’s eyes. Ian was not the kind of man to forget so easily, but sometimes he came on a bit too strong, worked a little too hard. He needed to ease back and enjoy what he had.

E.J. would probably be in Ian’s position now, expecting his own first child, if he’d gone along with the marriage he had been supposed to enter almost a year ago. But he and Millie weren’t meant to be married. It wouldn’t have worked, a marriage based on friendship and familial expectations rather than passion and the desire to be together forever. He knew that now. And while he dated a long list of wonderful women whom he enjoyed and respected, he’d never met anyone who set him back hard enough to strap himself into forever with her.

E.J. smiled to himself. He was a romantic, to a degree. Part of his southern heritage. What was that old movie line? A head for business and body for sin? And a heart for love. That’s what he wanted in a woman, too. But until he found it, he was just having fun.

Sage and Ian had the same kind of deep connection E.J.’s folks had had. In spite of their struggles, which all couples went through, they were perfect together. He hoped that whatever was going on with Sarah and Logan was something that would make her happy in the long run, too. She deserved it.

“E.J.—hello?”

He blinked, focusing back on the conversation.

Ian looked at him, stunned. “Wow, you were really zoning. I told you, Sage and I were going to wait to ask
you together, I know it’s still early, but I don’t feel like waiting. We’d like you to be the twins’ godfather.”

E.J. leaned over and, clasping Ian’s hand, pulled him into a hard hug.

“I’d be honored, man. Absolutely.”

Ian smiled and sat back.

“We thought you’d be great. Just don’t let Sage know I’ve already asked you—you’ll have to act surprised later.”

“Done.”

“Okay, so now back to this.” Ian gestured to the computer and E.J. knew his pal was like a bloodhound—he might have wandered off track, but he found his way back to the scent quickly.

“I don’t know what’s going on, Ian, and that’s the truth of it. She’s involved, but I don’t know details. They have something going on, obviously, but she was tight-lipped about it.”

“If they’re lovers, it makes things even more hazardous than they already were. They’re focusing on each other more than the threats around them.”

“I think Sarah’s sharper than that—she’s come a long way—and this guy’s experienced. You read his file?”

Ian nodded. “I also did some research into the owner of the cruise line. There’s nothing solid, but he’s been under investigation for crimes in South America and Southeast Asia. There’s suspicion he’s involved with black market prostitution.”

“Providing Western women for sale abroad?”

“Exactly. The trails all seem to come to a dead end, no one’s been able to nail the bastard directly, but he’s po
tentially one very dangerous guy. Sarah could be sitting on top of a much bigger powder keg than she realizes.”

“We should notify the Coast Guard, have them standing by just in case something goes sideways.”

Ian’s jaw tightened with purpose as he nodded in agreement. “Already done.”

L
OGAN TRIED
to process what was going on—something didn’t compute. He was naked. She was naked. She’d turned on the spray full blast, but instead of joining him for steamy, wet sex, Sarah was reaching for a towel and wrapping it around herself, hiding her delicious flesh from his view. From his touch.

His voice turned wary, “What’s the matter?”

She closed her eyes, resting against the door.

“It was all for show, remember? I’m not really having sex with you, Logan.”

He didn’t respond, stunned, his skin chilling and his erection withering a bit. All that passion hadn’t just been for show. She wanted him. She’d looked him in the eye and told him so, but even if she hadn’t, he’d felt it. Felt her heat, her need.

Not sure what game she was playing, but not in the mood for it, he pinned her against the door.

“That was all just for show?” He lowered his head and grazed his mouth over her jaw, pressing against her so she could feel how aroused he became just standing
next to her. “Really? This is only for show? It feels pretty real to me….”

He reached between them and tore the towel from her body, desire coursing through his veins as his hot flesh came in direct contact with hers. He moaned, burying his face in her shoulder. He inhaled her scent, tasted the soft skin there and felt her shudder.

There was nothing false about what they were feeling, he thought with satisfaction. Her nipples jutted against his chest, hard, begging for his attention, which he would give them as soon as he finished with her lips. He was obsessed with her mouth, and settled his own over it, urging her to comply. Though her hands were on his shoulders as if to push him away, she didn’t.

Exploring deeper, nudging his erection between her thighs, he felt his temperature rise unbearably, but in the back of his mind something niggled at him.

Her hands hadn’t moved, remaining still on his shoulders. She didn’t push him away, and she let him kiss her, let him touch her, not denying her own response. But she didn’t make love back to him. She was letting him take, but she wasn’t giving.

He took a step back, looking up into her face. Her skin was flushed with passion, but her eyes were filled with sad resolve.

“You said you wanted me.”

“I do want you.”

“So why the chill?”

“I don’t like being used.” She held up a hand to his mouth, covering his lips gently as he started to object.
“I know it’s not how you mean it, but it’s the end result. Being together, working on the case, having to set up a sting—it gives us a neat excuse to go further, but we shouldn’t act on it.”

“Why the hell not? I want you, you want me—we can be relatively sure no one’s watching in here, so what’s the problem?”

She smiled a little, and it actually made her look even more sad, which made it hard for him to breathe. He knew almost before she spoke and sucked in a deep breath, getting control of himself. She was right. He’d totally lost his focus about why they were there. He should be thinking only of finding Mel, and hopefully the other two missing women. They had a job to do, and he had let it go completely in his pursuit of Sarah. He shook his head in disgust with himself, and then looked up to meet Sarah’s eyes as she spoke.

“Where are we heading, Logan? What’s next?” She bent to pick up the towel. “What is this? What am I to you? I thought we laid things out pretty clearly back at the inn—you don’t respect my job, don’t like what I do.”

“I don’t like you putting yourself in bad situations. And this is one—I’d lost track of that for a few minutes, and I have to apologize.” His voice had turned stiff, and he just wanted to have this over with; it was all getting too complicated.

“But danger is part of my job. Not every day, but when I need to deal with it, I do. I don’t—and can’t and won’t—sit behind a computer all day and let other people go take the risks. That’s not how it’s done. That’s not who I am.”

“I just can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt.”

“Just because your mother and sister got hurt, just because Mel got hurt, doesn’t mean I will.”

“You could.”

“So could you—it doesn’t mean I would ask you to be less than you are. If you really cared for me—wanted more than…” she sputtered, gesturing to her naked body beneath the towel, “more than
this,
then you wouldn’t ask me to give up who I am, either.”

He sagged back against the opposite wall, desire erased, misery setting in. She was right. But it didn’t necessarily matter.

“I don’t know what I can do. I just don’t know, Sarah.” His emotions were raw in his eyes. “What I do know is I don’t want to lose you. How can you blame me for that?”

She looked away, her beautiful lips set in a flat, painful line as she maintained her control. “I think we’ve been in here long enough for them to buy it. You can go back to your room now.”

The distance she put between them with the statement was tangible, and he nodded. He wasn’t about to beg her for what he wanted.

His voice was neutral. “We’ll have to get wet. They need to think we were showering.”

“You first. I’ll follow after you leave. They can think we said our goodbyes in here.”

His heart ached. Maybe they had.

A
S SHE LEFT
her cabin the next morning, feeling all the
worse for wear and hoping it simply looked like she’d had a late night partying, she wasn’t completely surprised to be detained by a yeoman.

“Ms. Jessup. If you could come this way, the owner of the ship requests the honor of your company at breakfast.”

“The owner? What would he want with me?”

The yeoman smiled. He seemed younger and more innocent than he must surely be, Sarah thought. Did he know what was going on, or was he just another dupe?

“On each trip, certain guests are invited to join Mr. Valente for breakfast on the last day of the cruise. Such an invitation has been extended to you.”

“Oh, well, I suppose that’s quite an honor. I can’t imagine why he would choose me. Perhaps I should change into something more suitable….” She presented a flustered, nervous facade, and the yeoman smiled, taking her by the arm. No, he wasn’t about to let her walk away. Definitely part of the pack.

“You’re perfect just as you are. Mr. Valente will not want to be kept waiting. Come this way, please.”

She tried to squelch the excitement that her plan appeared to have worked. Logan was nowhere in sight, but she did have her choker on, so she wasn’t alone. She stepped up into a grandly decorated room that occupied most of the space under the bridge and was left alone as the yeoman closed the door behind her.

A table was set with a breakfast that smelled like heaven. Regardless of the fact that it was bait meant to draw lambs to slaughter, she was starving. There were also only two chairs—so much for the yeoman’s story
about the owner inviting several guests to breakfast. She was the only special one, apparently.

Unable to resist the grumbling of her stomach, she grabbed a croissant from the table and walked casually around the room, looking for anything that might lend a clue to the seedy operation they had going on here. Not that she expected anything to be just lying out in the open, but it was possible.

She turned when she heard a door open on the other side of the room, and saw a man enter. He was in his fifties, she guessed, and not bad-looking for his age. Kept himself in shape. He was dressed in a casual business suit, his salt-and-pepper hair long enough to be youthful but neatly groomed in a way appropriate for his age. His blue eyes mirrored hers, and he smiled with perfectly straight teeth.

“Ms. Jessup. So nice to see you could make it. Please, have a seat. I see you already started without me.”

“Sorry. I was hungry.” She offered a smile, and he returned it, waving her apologies away with a careless gesture.

“You should feel free to help yourself. You’re my guest.”

Or your prisoner?
she wondered. How long would he bother to keep up the little play they were engaged in? She decided to string it out, get him to talk, and sat, starting on a cheese omelet. It was going to take some energy to kick this guy’s butt. They made small talk for a while, and she began to get restless.

“Thank you for the breakfast and conversation, but I
need to go. I’d like to get some time in at the tables before we get back to shore.”

“Please, please. Relax. You have plenty of time, several hours before the tables close. I can’t possibly allow you to leave just yet.”

“But I want to go.”

And there it was. She noted the flicker in the eye, the mean little twitch in the cheek that belied the suave charm he’d been pouring on. She’d pressed the right button—a guy like him wouldn’t like a demanding or stubborn woman. She needed to tread carefully, to play him out and get him to say as much as possible, the little recorder on her neck carrying everything back to Ian and E.J.

“I don’t think so. We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“I want to make you an offer.”

She pretended to be curious, and sat back in her chair, though she didn’t touch her food.

“What kind of offer? I already have a job….”

He smiled, and it was smarmy and condescending—they’d no doubt looked into her background. She kept her own name; using a fake name was asking for trouble on such a short job, when she didn’t have time to get used to a new identity. But she’d trumped up a background as a full-time waitress in a swank seafood restaurant where she did fairly well. They’d also made sure she appeared to have a bit of a gambling problem.

“Yes, we know about your work. And we know about your debt—including the debt you accumulated
last night. I know you don’t have enough in your credit account or your bank to cover the losses, Ms. Jessup.”

“How can you know these things about me? You have no right—” She was enjoying her role as the outraged woman, the nervous gambler in too deep, and played it to a tee.

“I have every right. I know everything about everyone who sets foot on this ship. I know everything about you.”

He leveled an intimidating look in her direction, and it was all she could do not to spit in his face and tell him how stupid he really was. But, as she’d learned over the last eighteen months or so, that wasn’t the best way to get the bad guys. She controlled her temper and swallowed her disgust.

Sarah let her voice quaver a little as she responded. “I promise I can pay my debts. I always do. It’ll just take me a little time, maybe some payments…?” She looked at him hopefully, and watched the sick satisfaction in his smile when he thought he had her where he wanted her.

“We don’t really do payments. But there are a few other arrangements we can make. If you are willing.”

Yeah, sure, and probably even if I’m not.

She licked her lips and swallowed, eager to get specifics, but coming across as hesitant.

“What kind of arrangement?”

Valente stood and walked around the table, standing behind her, though he didn’t touch her. She looked back over her shoulder questioningly, but didn’t turn around.

“There are customers we have, wealthy clients, who
come to play and are unattached. They would enjoy some female company while they are here.”

“You mean, like a date?”

“Exactly. They are usually foreign businessmen, traveling abroad, and they have certain…preferences, shall we say, for American women. Especially attractive ones like you.”

He actually felt he’d paid her a compliment, she thought with disgust. Valente walked to the side of the table, leaning his hip on it slightly, and reached down to push a little hair back from her forehead. She let him, while fantasizing about breaking his fingers.

“What would I have to do? Would I have to come back?”

“You could take care of your obligation immediately. Tonight.”

“But I’m due back—”

“Change your plans.” He bit out the phrase, and she shrunk back.

“I don’t know about this. I don’t like it. I just have to keep them company while they’re playing?”

“Yes. Though if they want more, you shouldn’t argue.”

“You mean you want me to have sex with them? For money?” She raised her pitch into an indignant squeak and pushed up from her chair.

“Sit back down, Ms. Jessup.”

“I am not going to have sex with some nasty old foreign guy. Forget it. I’m outta here.”

“You are staying right where you are.”

“I told you, forget it.”

She headed toward to door, waiting to see what else he would do.

“You may want to see this before you go. It was taken last night, and would be sent to your employer, your family—and anyone else we think might be interested.”

Sarah let her hand drop from the door, and turned slowly as she heard Logan’s voice up close—the recording was much better than she imagined it would be, and she didn’t have to feign repulsion as she watched Valente smirking as Logan pushed her dress down.

Luckily, Logan’s moves had blocked most of the view of her exposed skin, but still. It was obvious what was happening between them—the sex, the heat between them, jumped off the screen. You couldn’t see his face, but her identity was clear. Her stomach turned for real, her past rushing back to her in a oily stretch of disgust. She pushed it down. She had to focus.

“Yes. We have the entire episode, and our video people can easily enhance it, livening it up where the action got a little…slow.”

“You wouldn’t! This is against the law, I’m going to tell—”

He grabbed her by her shoulders, hard. She winced, reassuring herself that Valente wouldn’t want to damage the goods. If he did, she could take care of herself until help arrived.

“You will not breathe a word of this to anyone, you stupid, penniless tramp. Do you understand? You will do what you’re told, when you’re told to do it. And if
you do a good enough job, maybe your debt will be paid in full.” He glared at her ominously. “If not, you will be at my disposal until I feel your debt has been worked off.”

She gave in and spit at him, feeling real tears born of anger stinging behind her eyes. She struggled to get out of his grasp.