Personal Target: An Elite Ops Novel (8 page)

The surly guard wanted to hustle Jennifer out of the dining room, but she took her time, nodding to Mia as she left. The guard was hurrying her up the staircase when the man she knew as Hosea approached. He said something to the guard Jennifer couldn’t understand, apparently some kind of order. The guard shrugged and turned to head back down the stairs.

Smelling of cigar smoke, Hosea led her onward. “We don’t have much time,” he said, directing her up the stairs but not turning to her as he spoke. “Help is coming. Go along with whatever comes next, and remember, there are eyes everywhere.”

“What?” She stopped climbing mid-step.

“Cameras. They are watching all the time.”

She shuddered. The revulsion of someone watching her unawares made her slightly queasy. She wasn’t sure she could do what was necessary to get out of here, but the thought of the alternative chilled her blood.

“Are there microphones, too?” Her mind whirled at the implications, but Hosea didn’t answer her question.

“Keep walking,” he hissed. “We must hurry.”

They reached the top of the staircase and moved a short distance down the hall to one of the bedrooms.

“Who are you?” she asked, as he rapped sharply on the door.

“A friend,” he mumbled, moving away before the door swung open.

The room before her was beautiful, with tapestried furniture and a four-poster canopied bed, like something out of a magazine article on how to seduce your lover. Another woman stood beside a desk, dressed with the same care that Monique had been, but there the similarity ended. This well-dressed woman looked much older and harsher as she held out a flimsy robe.

“Strip,” the woman ordered, with none of the odd politeness Jennifer had encountered since she’d been here.

“What?”

“Do it, or I’ll break your arm and Mia’s as well.” The woman said the words as casually as if she’d offered Jennifer creamer for her coffee. The old witch obviously wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Her accent was heavy, but it wasn’t Hispanic. It sounded more European. Whoever she was, she spoke flawless English.

Jennifer slipped off the dress without arguing. Her hands trembled when she understood that the transparent robe was all she would be given to wear. She was now very grateful for the exotic bustier and panties she’d put on earlier and slid the transparent wrap over her lingerie. She hoped that would be okay with this drill sergeant.

“An important client is seeing you tonight. It’s imperative that you please him. He knows you’re new, so don’t worry about that. But don’t fight him. It won’t go well for you if he doesn’t enjoy his time here.” The woman’s voice was cajoling and threatening at the same time.

Jennifer felt a cold finger of dread walk down her spine as she listened to the surreal demands. Hosea had said someone was coming. She just hoped they got here before she had to deal with the “important client.”

“Cameras. They are watching all the time.”

God, was this really about to happen?

How had she gone from being a freshly divorced college professor worrying about her Christmas break to turning her first trick in a Mexican bordello?

Chapter Seven

Saturday, late evening

Tenancingo

F
IFTEEN MINUTES AFTER
they had made their “selections,” Monique led Nick and Bryan upstairs. They arrived at Bryan’s destination first.

“For all the ruckus out front with that music, it’s very quiet up here,” said Bryan. “No distractions.”

Monique smiled, her hand on the bedroom doorknob. “Yes, we find our clients prefer a peaceful atmosphere.”

Nick nodded. Message received. Bryan would be causing a “distraction” soon. He was thinking about which side of the house they’d need to leave from to get Jennifer out when a heavy oak door swung open. He caught only a glimpse of a king-size bed before Bryan walked inside and shut the door behind him.

Nick hoped Hollywood could slip the child out of the house without frightening her. There might even be a back exit. He forced himself to focus on the details of the rescue in order to avoid thinking about seeing Jenny for the first time in a decade. He was honest enough with himself to know that dwelling on that particular fact would decimate his concentration. Jennifer was the mission right now. That was the only way he could think of her and make it through this.

A few steps away, Monique knocked at another intricately designed door before swinging it open. The room was so different from what he’d expected that he paused in the doorway. Oversized furniture and a massive canopied bed with tapestried coverings filled the room. The glow of candles cast a dim light, illuminating a table covered with food and wine chilling in an ice bucket. A woman was seated at a vanity. Her back was to the door; her face reflected in the mirror.

“The phone is there beside the bed. Please dial zero if there’s anything further you require.” Monique sounded like a bellhop as Nick moved into the room. The door closed behind him with a snap.

The woman at the vanity turned, and his breath caught in his throat. Nick had known it would be Jenny, and despite what he’d thought about downstairs when he’d seen her on the tablet screen, he hadn’t prepared himself for seeing her like this. Seated at the table with candles all around, she was wearing a sheer robe over a gray thong and a bustier kind of thing, or that’s what he thought the full-length bra was called.

He spotted the small unicorn tat peeping out from the edge of whatever the lingerie piece was and his brain quit processing details as all the blood in his head rushed south. He’d been primed to come in and tell Jenny exactly how they were getting out of the house and away from these people and now . . . this. His mouth went dry at the sight of her. She looked like every fantasy he’d ever had about her rolled into one.

He continued to stare as recognition flared in her eyes.

“Oh my God,” she said. “It’s . . .”

She clapped her mouth closed, and her eyes widened. That struck him as odd. The relief on her face was obvious, but instead of looking at him, she took an audible breath and studied the walls of the room. When she finally did glance at him again, her eyes had changed.

“So you’re who they’ve sent me for my first time?” Her voice sounded bored, not the tone he remembered. “What do you want me to do?”

What a question. He raised an eyebrow, but she shook her head. In warning?

Nothing here was as he’d anticipated. He continued staring at her, hoping the lust would quit fogging his brain long enough for him to figure out what was going on.

“I’ve been told to show you a good time.” Her voice was cold, downright chilly. Without another word she stood and crossed the floor, slipping into his arms with her breasts pressing into his chest. “It’s you.” She murmured the words in the barest of whispers.

Nick’s mind froze, but his body didn’t. On autopilot his hands automatically went to her waist as she kissed his neck, working her way up to his ear. This was not at all what he’d planned.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” She breathed the words into his ear.

Me either,
he thought, but kept the news to himself as he pulled her closer. His senses flooded with all that smooth skin pressing against him. His body tightened, and his right hand moved to cup her ass. Her cheek’s bare skin was silky soft, like he remembered. God, he’d missed her. She melted into him as his body switched into overdrive.

“What do you want?” She spoke louder. The artic tone was back. He was confused and knew he was just too stupid with wanting her to figure out what the hell was going on. There was no way the woman could mistake the effect she was having.

She moved her lips closer to his ear and nipped his earlobe before she spoke in a hushed tone. “Cameras are everywhere. I’m not sure about microphones.”

And just like that, cold reality slapped him in the face. He should have been expecting it, but he’d been so focused on getting her out and making sure she was all right. She might be glad to see him because he was there to save her, but throwing her body at him was an act.

Jesus.
He had to get them both out of here without tipping his hand to the cameras and those watching what he was doing. He was crazy not to have considered it once he saw those tablets downstairs, but it had never occurred to him that he would have to play this encounter through as if he was really a client.

He slipped her arms from around his neck and moved to the table to pour himself some wine, willing his hands not to shake. “I want you,” he said, clearly and loudly enough for any microphone in the room to pick up.

She smiled, but her expression wasn’t warm. “Do you now?” Her frigid tone was so at odds with the woman he’d known years ago.

He knew what he had to do. Monique and company were expecting them to have wild sex. If they’d been truly alone, it wouldn’t have been a hardship. And regardless of the circumstances, that’s exactly what he was going to have to pretend to do. He had to make love to Jenny knowing others were watching, at least until that distraction of Bryan’s came through.

There wouldn’t be any sneaking out of the room or the house before then. Guards were most likely gathered around security monitors at this very moment, drinking beer and taking bets as to how long Nick would last before he came. They were expecting to see some action.

“What do you think I want?” His voice was pitched low but loud enough for the mics as he took a sip of the wine. “I’m here to fuck you. Isn’t that what they told you to expect?”

Her eyes widened in shock as he silently pled with her to understand that this, too, was a charade. He put the wine down and stepped toward her, kissing her with an intensity that wasn’t at all make-believe for him and breathing words into her mouth before he pulled away.

“We’re going to have to pretend to do this,” murmured Nick. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to be enthusiastic. They expect me to be practically raping you.”

She froze and leaned back to stare at him for a long moment. Her eyes filled with revulsion, sadness, and then acceptance. Nodding her head, she moved to his other earlobe. Her breath was hot on his cheek, and that alone would have turned him on if they’d been by themselves.

But her whispered words were like a cold shower. “They’ve threatened to hurt one of the other girls if you don’t enjoy yourself.”

He forgot about the cameras for a moment and stopped to stare at her. “Is this really—”

She kissed him before he could say anything else. Her lips fused with his, and her tongue plunged into his mouth. She pulled back slightly, only after his growing erection pressed into her belly.

She smiled and sighed, “I’ll be fine.” Taking his left hand from her waist, she placed it on top of her breast and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Come on, we’ve both done this before.” Her voice was louder, and he realized that was for the onlookers, even though it had a totally different meaning for the two of them. She slid a hand inside his shirt and brushed fingertips over his chest.

He couldn’t answer. Of all the wild, fantastic ways he’d dreamed of being with Jenny again, this had never been a scenario. Gripping his shirt, she tugged him toward the bed, and he followed.

Slipping her fingers into his hair, she kissed him, and for a moment he might have thought she really meant it. Her enthusiasm was tangible as she pushed him down to sit on the mattress, and he pulled her between his knees. If he thought about cameras, he wasn’t going to be able to do this.

He pushed the barely-there robe aside and trailed kisses across her stomach. His palms brushed upward from her waist. Her generous breasts filled his hands. She moaned when he slipped a finger inside her bustier, and his lips trailed lower on her abdomen.

He wasn’t sure if this was pretense or not, but he wasn’t going to think about that now. She bumped him backward onto the mattress and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips and seating herself on top of him. They were almost to a point of no return. Where the hell was Nick and that “distraction”?

He moved a palm from her breast to the front of her thong, and she leaned into his fingers, pressing him closer. He imagined he could feel her temperature rising.

She reached into his waistband, and before he knew how she’d done it—he was unzipped, and she was holding him firmly in her hands. She bent all the way forward and kissed him again, slipping her tongue past his lips as she stroked him.

The two sensations combined to make him feel as if the top of his head were going to fly off. He groaned and pulled her closer, sliding his fingers past the silky lace thong and into her. Nick could feel his breath coming faster. They were really going to do this—have sex with God knew who watching. And right now Jenny had him so turned on, he didn’t care.

How much of this was acting, and how much was real? He had no idea, but he had the vague notion that he probably should be concerned. Still, she was here, doing things to him in the flesh that he’d only dreamed about for so damn long.

He was pushing the scrap of lace that passed for panties aside when there was a furious pounding on the door. Screams and running feet sounded in the hallway.

“¡Fuego! ¡Fuego!”
a woman’s voice screamed.
“¡La casa está en llamas!”

The house was on fire.

Thank God.

J
ENNIFER FELT HER
eyes widen as Nick broke the sizzling kiss, stared into her face, and untangled himself from her body. She couldn’t even think about the fact that they’d been about to have sex. He’d put his hands on her, and she’d forgotten where they were—just like that summer so long ago. And hadn’t that led to enough heartache to last a lifetime?

Her vision snapped back into focus when he slid his hands from her and zipped his jeans. Handing her his button-down shirt, he headed for the door and left her on the bed to pull herself together.

She heard more screams of
“¡Fuego!”
and what had to be gunshots. Before she could sort out what was happening or do anything with the shirt, Nick was back. “We’ve got to go. Do you have any more clothes in here?”