Sapphire (5 page)

Thinking about the various floors of the
Caligula
that featured increasingly more expensive and decadent options, to the lower level that was as hard core a venue as he had seen, and that was saying something, Jase’s gut clenched. The fact that Ventrilo brazenly chose to name his establishment after one of the most debauched and schizophrenic evil men who ever ruled Rome, was but one indication of Ventrilo’s bizarre sense of humor and rock sold belief in his omnipotence. Jase snorted. No wonder the guy thought he was invincible. He not only thwarted accepted moral and legal standards of behavior, but did so with a panache and winning smile worthy of a modern day Casanova.

Knowing that Sapphire was superbly suited for the mission didn’t quiet Jase’s concerns. It didn’t matter that she was the epitome of the exotically beautiful women that
Caligula’s
was known for—and that Ventrilo surrounded himself with. No, if Ventrilo had a “type” he could have broken the mold after Sapphire appeared. She was as close to perfection as the supremely demanding and egotistical manic could have desired. Jase didn’t have to try to convince himself that his concerns about Sapphire were well founded. To break into Ventrilo’s realm required the chutzpah and discipline of a masterfully conceived and executed plan. A plan that required absolute adherence to the mission. There was no room for outliers or go-it-alone operatives, who relished their independence and were convinced that they were as strategically competent—if not more so—as their leaders.

Jase shook his head and mused. Let’s face it; there was no way to ignore it. Sapphire was a wild card. That much was clear watching the video that Ian and Riley insisted he see before he agreed to include the beautiful woman in his dangerous plan. Given the size of his ego and inherent arrogance, Jase had no doubt that he could control the agent. If anything it stoked his dominant nature that her superiors considered her close to uncontrollable. No, it wasn’t her independent streak that had Jase worried. It was the fact that Jase couldn’t remember meeting a woman he’d been more attracted to. Not only sexually, but also emotionally.

Jase admitted that bringing Sapphire into the heart of the mission was fool- hardy. She didn’t come close to meeting the rigid requirements he had established for his operatives. Jase shrugged. Maybe it was time he became less rigid. What if he focused on the cool-eyed operative’s incredible fighting skills and obvious physical match for the needs of the operation? Perhaps it was time to allow his instincts to trump his intellectual cautions. Jase chortled, acknowledging that if ever he had heard an argument in which his little head overruled his big head, it was the one he’d just made. Including Sapphire in the perilous mission was likely to be either the worst or, pray to God, the smartest, if not the most dangerous, decision he’d made.

As for the control issue—who was in charge and who was not? He’d already put down his marker with Gabriella. Tonight he’d make sure she acknowledged it.

Chapter 5

E
ntering the main level of the
Caligula Club
from the private elevator in the security parking garage, Jase noted that the infamous lair was much like any other elite Gentlemen’s Club that he’d belonged to except for the obvious presence of security. A phalanx of no fewer than four large, stern men with obvious bulges on their shoulders and hips, enforced the Club’s strict members-only policy. No one entered or left the club without being screened by one of the polite but imposing guardians at the door.

Opulence was the watchword of the club’s large anteroom but the whiff of sex was never far below the surface. Groups of men sat in comfortable leather chairs or on sofas doing things as mundane as reading the newspaper or working in secluded alcoves that housed desks topped with expensive computers. Except for the scantily dressed, gorgeous women who ambled through the various lounges, the setting resembled the library sitting rooms in a prestigious private dining club.

Heading through the crowded room, Jase pretended to ignore the interested looks from several of the members and most of the women. Part of his M.O. was to be noticed. He was gratified that the over $5,000 worth of designer clothing that he was wearing ensured that he got a second look from men who had money to burn
.
Jase’s expensive attire and brazen attitude made it clear that while money was essential, style was imperative. It was important that he was seen as a player. One who played at the highest levels. The clothes definitely helped. So did the nods from the security hunks granting him unfettered access to the heavily guarded areas below.

Entering the large anteroom, Jase nodded to the diminutive redhead whose risqué outfit was a minor engineering miracle. Somehow the four-inch band of leather surrounding her hips kept her ass covered, albeit barely. The fact that she was panty-less under the tight band was a given. Her breasts strived mightily to escape the scraps of leather binding them as she bent over at the waist to freshen the whiskey glasses on the table in front of a group of ogling men. She was perched precariously on five-inch stiletto heels, raising the possibility of her tripping and falling into the lap of one of the eagerly leering men. Ruby, as she was known, acknowledged Jase’s slightly arched brow and inclined her head toward the staircase leading to the reserved areas below. Their subtle interchange confirmed that Ventrilo was in his office and was expecting Jase.

The driving beat of the Black Eyed Peas’
“I Gotta Feeling”
gave way to the harder, raunchier lyrics of Nelly’s
“Hot in Herre”
as Jase strode down the staircase from the first floor of the
Caligula
to the lower level offices. He took the stairs rather than the elevator to confirm for the onlookers, who were studiously trying to make their reconnaissance unnoticed, that not only was he welcome in the private arenas below but also didn’t give a shit who knew where he was going. The fact that few club members had access to the off-limits area merely confirmed his status.

Jase had worked assiduously to achieve his current standing in the Club. It had required months of attending every function and flashing around more money in four months than he’d earned in a decade. And he was a one-percenter as far as “salaries” went. The result was worth it. He’d been able to convince the prestige-conscious patrons that he was one of them. In reality, convincing the members that he had more money than God and access to more beautiful women than any of the graying, paunchy patrons could hope to attract had been easy. That wasn’t his goal. His target was none other than Roberto Ventrilo, the Club owner and kingpin of one of the most vicious cartels working the Latin Americas and the Southwestern corner of the United States.

The prestigious Phoenix suburb located in the rolling mountains surrounding the sprawling city was the perfect location for the
Caligula
. The ever expanding flock of snowbirds fleeing from colder climes included high flying corporate leaders, movie stars, and wealthy retirees from both coasts who had made the fashionable mountain suburb their winter home. The new arrivals were delighted to discover a Club that catered to their particular proclivities and whose membership fees confirmed that the elite crowd’s required discretion would be observed. The relative inauspiciousness of the wealthy Arizona enclave, compared to the known drug havens on both coasts, made it a perfect place for the Cartels to establish a toehold. The access to product from the Southern hemisphere and a law enforcement structure that had holdovers from its not too distant Wild West roots added to its
desirability. The fact that the local law enforcement agencies were often more interested in harassing illegal immigrants than pursuing the kingpins, who were reaping billions of dollars of profit under their unseeing eyes, made it an opportune place for cartel leaders like Ventrilo to sink roots.

When Jase began to insinuate himself into the bowels of Ventrilo’s operation, he was doing so on assignment from the DEA. While working his way into Ventrilo’s inner circle, Jase had agreed to help a political friend who was convinced that his missing daughter had been kidnapped. To Jase’s amazement he discovered that Aimee Carpenter had been last seen at none other than the
Caligula
. Well aware of the notorious gangster’s prominent role in the drug trade, it was a fluke that while tracking the missing girl, Jase discovered Ventrilo’s connection to the international human trafficking arena. That surprising information put the
Caligula
and Roberto Ventrilo in the crosshairs of over a dozen national and international agencies. That Jase had discovered the connection and had managed to become a confidante of the infamous drug and now trafficking overlord made Jase the logical point person to head up Ventrilo’s take down. It was in that vaulted role that he had contacted Ian Ross, looking for the perfect bait to snare the violent criminal leader. And Jase now thought, with a groan, how he met the azure eyed woman who was eating at his soul.

“Where the hell have you been, Jase? Skiing in the Swiss Alps? Racking up sack time with those blonde Scandinavian babes who give new meaning to the word twosome? Knowing you, there were at least three of them to provide enough insertion points to satisfy your randy prick.” Roberto took a heavy swig of Glenfarclas, the sinfully expensive Scotch whisky that Jase swore made up 75 % of the Drug Lord’s daily liquid consumption. Like most high level Cartel members, Ventrilo didn’t personally partake in the designer drugs that had made him a billionaire in his quest to convert more and more addicts. The strikingly handsome man’s coal black eyes danced with scorn. “Or were you working on your MMA skills somewhere in Asia, getting some slant-eyed pussy on the side?”

Smoothing the distaste from his expression and his voice, Jase tossed the smirking man an insinuating grin.

“Nah, Roberto, I’ve been stateside. I’ve discovered that some treats are available in your own backyard if you are lucky enough to stumble over them.” He gave a hearty sigh and shook his head as if in disbelief. “I know you and I are always upping the ante in our quest for the perfect woman, but I think I may have succeeded, actually found her.”

Ventrilo scoffed. “Fuck it, Jase. You and I know that the perfect woman—the one who’s got the Madonna/whore complex down to perfection but is as seemingly pure as the nun who hasn’t had her cherry popped—is fiction. There isn’t a woman alive that isn’t a whore at heart. Some just hide it better than others.” He added with a sneer, “It’s my task to unmask the devious bitches and reveal their true nature. Nature that even they may have submerged, but is alive and well in their traitorous bodies.”

Jase grunted. “Yeah, yeah, Roberto. I know you like to provide your patrons with that impossible mix of purity and sluttiness that we both know only whores can pull off. But I’m not blowing smoke out of my ass on this one, buddy. To tell the truth, I just met her but haven’t been able to get my zipper closed since. Unfortunately she’s proven to be a hard sell.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve met a woman who isn’t wowed by your expensive clothes, car and gargantuan ego?”

“Believe it or not, Roberto, this chick may be the real deal. She looks like she’s fresh off the farm. Christ, after my few dozen failed overtures, I’m beginning to believe she just might be as virginal in practice as she is in appearance.”

Jase did his best to keep a disgruntled expression on his face trying to ignore the clear carnal interest flaring in the other man’s eyes. “Nope, I’ve decided this little pussycat is going to take more than heavy cream to get her interest.” Jase added, “I gotta tell you, man, from one connoisseur of fine pussy to another, freeing this tiger from her little kitty cat’s furry shell is going to be worth waiting for.”

Knowing that he was describing the prime target for the Human Trafficking Arena, Jase choked back his disgust. He knew that the description he’d given Roberto of Sapphire was sure to stoke the other man’s personal and professional interest. Jase knew that the fact that, at least at this point, he hadn’t been able to screw her fueled Ventrilo’s interest further. Like the misogynous pig that he was, the drug lord confirmed his interest with feigned indifference.

“Just because you haven’t been able to bed her yet probably just means she’s calculating her worth. Gotta tell you, man, any piece of ass that is as righteous as what you are describing knows her worth. She’s just trying to see how high you’ll go to taste that sweet snatch.”

Belying the visible bulge in his pants, Ventrilo added with a nonchalant shrug implying he was uninterested, “Bring her to the Club tonight. I’ll let you know if she is as pure as she pretends. I’ve never been fooled yet by a purity pretender. It’s in their eyes. They can’t keep the dollar signs from flashing.”

He gave a satisfied chortle. “Hell, man, did you ever think that even though you are a chick magnet extraordinaire, it might take someone with more experience breaking pussy to know an imposter when he sees it?”

After agreeing to bring Sapphire to the Club
the next night, Jase made his excuses. Striding down the corridor in the lower level, Jase tried to block out the telltale sounds coming from the private rooms lining the hallway. The slashing sounds of whips and clanging of chains weren’t necessarily bad. Jase had come to admit that some people—women included, really did get off on being flayed like a piece of meat and left to bleed. Every protective nerve in his trained body longed to confirm that the agonized screams coming from the locked rooms were the sounds of pleasure, not terrorized appeals for help.

It wasn’t as though Jase didn’t know the BDSM scene. Hell most of the men he knew, himself included, were dominant in nature. No one could describe them as easy lovers. Some of them fit the definition of hard core Doms and were part of the scene. The problem with Roberto Ventrilo wasn’t that he was simply a dominant player. No, Ventrilo was a sadist pure and simple. He got off causing pain to the women
and
men he mastered. It was a known fact that Ventrilo enjoyed terrorizing his “lovers” while inflicting irreparable pain, and that dead “lovers” weren’t an uncommon result of his “lovemaking.”