For The Wicked (Fantasy Heights) (9 page)

He hauled her off to bed not much later, extracting a promise that she would respect his wishes to keep security in mind at all times. She was a high-risk, high-value target for an enemy whose motives and methods might not always be logical or even sane. She wasn’t to take off without telling someone where she was going. Anything suspicious had to be reported, no matter how minor. And above all, she needed to pay better attention to her surroundings.

At her desk the next morning, she failed that test. Miserably. She was releasing payroll when she found herself under scrutiny from two pairs of eyes. Jennifer Grove and Fiona Cornell stood in the office doorway.

Jennifer spoke, her voice overflowing with contempt. “Oh, look. It swims in the kiddie pool, pretending it’s not a shark.”

Fiona’s eyes widened, and she took hold of Jennifer’s wrist. “I think you should probably go to the car and wait for me. Please?”

Amanda wasn’t sure what was happening, but Fiona looked so embarrassed and uncomfortable that she held her tongue. Jennifer walked away after one long last lingering stare.

Once she’d gone, Fiona sighed. “I’m so sorry. She does hold a grudge, and I’m afraid tact missed her by a mile.”

“Am I about to be fired?”

“You can’t be serious. Good lord, you’ve only been in this post for three weeks, and already the resort is running tighter than it ever has. Jennifer is impressed with you. Not many people can say that.”

“Then why is she mad at me?”

“Well, we had a little run-in with Thomas about his retreat from performing. There was some yelling.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Hmm. Yes,” Fiona said. “Regardless, Jennifer feels you’re grossly underutilized here at the resort. She and I were wondering if you’d consider jumping ship to something different. She’s just bought out a badly mismanaged company in need of a villain to clean house.” Fiona dug into her shoulder bag and came out with a thick portfolio. “This is just between us, of course. Have a look. If you like what you see and have any ideas, we’d love to hear them.”

Fiona left before Amanda could get over the surprise enough to ask the seven thousand questions that raced to the surface. Extreme curiosity made her open the portfolio cover to have a peek. She could hardly believe it when she saw the name of the company Jennifer wanted whipped into shape. This was definitely not some small, fledgling affair. This was a major corporation long beleaguered by a notoriously nasty internal feud.

Amanda propped an elbow on the desktop and rubbed one cheek. Calm, she told herself, even though her brain was salivating over the possibilities. Calm. No promises had been made.

Once again, she failed to heed Thomas’s warning about paying attention. She had no idea Wade Fraser had come to call until he rapped his fingers against the doorjamb.

Wow. To what did she owe this distinctly unnerving pleasure? Thomas’s former commanding officer was dressed in a gorgeous blue suit, much more personable than the crisp but boring attire he’d used to wear to Accord meetings.

“Wade,” she said in greeting. “What can I do for you?”

He shrugged one enormous but beautifully tailored shoulder. “Actually I was on my way to pick up Thomas for lunch and thought I’d swing by to bury the hatchet. I couldn’t help overhearing, though. The mighty Jennifer Grove has plans on poaching you, huh?”

She held her hands up. “I don’t really know what this is all about. And you and Thomas are having lunch?”

“Yes. Believe it or not, I’ve missed the bastard.”

She made a blatant, if good-natured, show of dubious disbelief.

“Hey,” he said. “It was never anything personal, you know. The Bureau made me responsible for Thomas. He never blamed me for taking that responsibility seriously.”

She conceded the point with a nod.

He added, “Now that you’re no longer part of my professional life, I gotta tell you my wife is dying to meet the woman who could conquer a giant pain in the ass like Thomas. Think maybe the four of us could have a drink sometime?”

“I… Yeah, I think I might actually enjoy that.” Truth be told, she was just as curious about Wade’s wife. His had never made any secret of the fact his world revolved around the woman.

Wade pointed to the portfolio. “You should give that some serious consideration. At least with Jennifer you know it’s only business.”

She had to laugh at that, and waved him off when he excused himself. What a man for boundaries, separating professional from personal with such ease. She even envied him for it. Things had used to be that easy for her in the beginning. Josh had started out personal. Thomas had been all business. And then everything got messy.

She sighed and put the portfolio away to retreat into the comfort of spreadsheets, and the certainties of math. She stayed happily buried until a clerk came around with the mail. Of primary interest were two items from Eric. The first was a security alert regarding Scott’s bizarre gamer guy. The page showed a picture of a rather good-looking man. Dark eyes. Angular, distinctly male facial features. Youngish. Mid-twenties with wiry muscles, dressed in jeans and a vest. The flyer identified him as one of the gamers, registered under a false name. Dylan Moore, who might also go by his in-game alias
Septimus
. He probably wasn’t dangerous, but security would love to have a word.

The second item from Eric came in an inter-office envelope. She opened it to find that Eric had come through for her. His memo said he’d found Shelley living in a smallish bedroom community about ten minutes away from Fantasy Heights. No job, as far as he was able to determine.

Not good. Shelley should be back home, cleaning up her mess of a marriage, not hanging around here. And ten miles wasn’t nearly enough distance between them for Amanda’s taste. Then again, maybe Shelley was doing the right thing, looking for a job, maybe even enrolling in college.

Yeah, right, she thought. But what could she do about it? Go over there and tell her stepsister she was too close for comfort?

Maybe. That was probably the smartest thing to do. She’d have to think about it after tonight’s performance, the grand finale where the gamers would steal her back from Thomas, the boss bad guy.

Now that everyone had been through the drill once already, wardrobe went much more smoothly that day, if slower. The gamers had too much fun the night before. They ran late. Thomas led her out to the spot where they would recapture her, deep in the woods. Amanda was endlessly grateful for the fog machine, likely the only thing keeping the bugs away while she and Thomas waited for their cue.

He picked up the shackles. “We might have to do this again sometime. Minus the horde of drunken gamers chasing us with fake swords, of course.”

“Drunken?”

“Yeah. Hair of the dog, and a few of its teeth besides. They were hitting it hard this afternoon. You better be prepared for anything.”

Not much later, a surge in the noise told them it was time to get ready. Thomas stood by while she popped the lenses back in. Blind now, she held still while he shackled her to a huge, faux rock outcropping. He stashed the shackle key on a chain around his neck to be stolen later by the triumphant gamers.

Their first warning that the battle had gone sideways came only moments later. Thomas said there were lights on the wrong side of the battlefield. She could hear the shouting for herself.

“Shit,” Thomas complained. “They are completely off script. What the… Ah, God dang it. I better try to force them back onto the path before someone gets hurt.”

“Be careful,” she warned. Now that things were going wrong, she liked the idea of drunken gamers a lot less than she had five minutes ago. And that wasn’t saying much.

She heard Thomas’s footfalls moving off into the distance. Not even ten seconds later, she heard something. A snap. A crunch. A footfall practically at her elbow.

Nerves instantly made every muscle in her body tense, ready to run. Except she couldn’t. She was shackled to a rock, and this was a simulated battle. This was probably one of the gamers, trying to unleash a sneak attack.

She forced herself to breathe. “Who’s there?”

A hand settled over her mouth, and that was all it took. She would know that hand anywhere. Jerod. Jerod Hughes, her mystery client.

She began to struggle until his mouth came close to her ear. Gentle. Not threatening. Not what she expected from someone Thomas proclaimed an enemy. And still, she felt a surge of relief to know that if nothing else, at least he was alive.

“Quiet,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Amanda, but this is the only way I can warn Thomas. No one but him can know I was ever here. And nobody else sees this except you and him. Nobody. Got that?”

He pressed something into one of her hands. Cold. Small. He closed his fingers over hers until she was tightly clutching his offering. And just like that, he vanished again.

Thus began the longest thirty-five minutes of her life. Remaining in character through it all cost every shred of patience and professionalism she possessed. All through the battle, the recapture, and finally back to wardrobe, she had to wait. Even then, she didn’t get Thomas alone until after the contacts were out, the sleeves shed and the paints showered off.

Finally, she caught him in his dressing room.

He proved exactly how well he knew her by barking at first sight. “What’s wrong?”

She closed and locked the door, then babbled out an explanation and set the small black plastic cylinder on the dressing table. Thomas stared at the old film canister as if she’d just set a severed head before him.

“You don’t want to see what’s in there?” she asked.

He stared another moment before speaking. His voice was brittle as chalk. “Did he hurt you?”

“No. All he did was put his hand over my mouth. And fine. If you won’t open it, I will.”

She snatched it back up and twisted the cap off. Just as quickly, Thomas took it away from her to check the contents for himself. He looked inside the tube, and then fished out a curl of folded paper.

Great. Another one of Jerod’s messages, she thought. “I don’t get it. Doesn’t he know how to work a mailbox? Why sneak onto the resort? I mean, why take the risk?”

“This way, he gets to frighten you. And show me how easy it was to get to you, right under my nose.”

Thomas uncurled the paper and read the contents with a slight frown marring his forehead.

She read over his shoulder.

Enemy version of Fantasy Heights = Eighth Empire. Location unknown.

Do NOT apply pressure. Civil war inside DR. Yvette getting worse. Minions are planning to overthrow else the crazy brings down the whole org.

More than one person wants throne. Prepare for casualties.

Same handwriting as last time. Messier, though, as if it had been written in a rush. She looked from the note to Thomas for his reaction. He sat silent, his attention focused on some distant point.

Something clicked for Amanda. “Eighth Empire. What about Ridley and the crying and the eights? Do you think that’s where it came from?”

Thomas looked up at her. “Could be. Do you…”

“Do I what?”

“Wishful thinking, maybe, but maybe you were right. Maybe Jerod went after these people on his own, from the inside. After what happened with Steph, he needed to redeem himself somehow.”

She held her tongue to let him think. It looked to her as if Jerod hadn’t turned against them but there was room for doubt.

Thomas was by no means convinced. Tension formed like storm clouds around them while he folded the paper once more, returned it to the film canister and replaced its lid. “What the hell am I supposed to do with that?” he muttered. “Don’t apply pressure, he says. For how long? And who’s trying to take over? The whole thing could be lies. Even if it’s true, it could be a trick somehow. Useless.”

After that, he hustled her out to his truck and drove her home with strict orders not to go anywhere, and not to answer the door for anyone but him or Josh.

“Where will you be?” she asked.

“Out.”

His tone did not invite questions. He was nearly out the door when worry compelled her to impart a reflexive, “Be careful.”

He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. Then he came back. After kissing her, he reminded her to arm the security system once he’d gone.

“I’ll be late. If you’re still up when I get home, be prepared.”

Wow. “If I fall asleep, promise you’ll wake me up.”

After a lung-emptying promise from scorching brown eyes, Thomas took off. She buried herself in Jennifer’s portfolio to keep herself from worrying too much about where Thomas might be headed, or what he planned to do when he got there.

She did doze off shortly after midnight, but Thomas kept his promise. He woke her. Nothing new to report. When asked, he assured her he hadn’t even mentioned Jerod’s reappearance to Eric, Max, or Jerod’s father. If Jerod had sent himself into DriveRate to spy, a single breath of tonight’s contact could put him in jeopardy.

The agents in Virginia had told Thomas to hold off texting Brandon. If the situation inside DriveRate was as volatile as Jerod claimed, such a stab in the dark could have major unintended consequences.

Amanda was distracted from the worry when she saw what Thomas had brought home. In the guest bedroom was a transplant from one of the bondage dungeons. The device looked something like a sawhorse, only with a wider bench on top, knee rests, and a long cross beam for binding arms.

After stripping her, Thomas brought her into place. She climbed up onto the device. Her legs were forced apart by the placement of the knee and shin rests. Thomas made her bend forward to rest her belly on the padded top.

“Arms out.”

Face down, she brought her arms out and rested them along the crossbeam. Thomas used red and gold silk scarves to bind her wrists and biceps into place. He did the same with her ankles and knees.

With her secured to the pommel and defenseless, Thomas stepped up behind her. The height of the pommel was just right, his cock lining up perfectly to her pussy and anus.

He paused to remove his jacket, walking around to the side she faced. He draped his jacket over a chair back, unbuttoned his cuffs and his shirt, and took that off, too.