Ruthless

Chapter 10

Cinderella, fastballs, and balloon boobs

March 29

Friday morning

When I steppedoff the elevator into RED’s human trafficking department, Special Agent Suzanna Jones stopped in front of me and gave me a high five. “Way to go, Lexi,” she said with a grin.

I wasn’t sure what the high five was for—at first, but I went with it. Suzanna hadn’t given me a chance to ask before she continued down the walkway.

Angela Rollins strode by, a teasing light in her hazel eyes. “Not only did you take care of that jerkwad boyfriend, but you ended up with the sexiest partner I’ve seen in a long time.”

Oh. That’s what the high five had been for.

I shrugged even though I totally agreed with her about the sexy partner. He was so damn hot that it was dangerous having him as a partner for just that reason.

But Gary, was he really a jerkwad? I’d never forgive him, but I couldn’t just throw out the window the good memories and the fact that he was, overall, a decent guy.

Despite being a cheating sonofabitch.

Okay, so I have a split personality.

Angela grinned over her shoulder before she headed down one set of steps to the CC.

Thoughts of my conversation with Donovan last night kept churning in my mind. I had to sort this out with Oxford.

I stood at Darlene’s desk at exactly the time for my appointment and she gave a haughty sniff that so did not go with her Beatles look.

She pressed a button. “Agent Steele is here.”

“Send her in,” came Oxford’s voice.

“Have a seat,” Oxford said as soon as I had closed the door behind me, which was a good sign.

I picked the closest chair and sat in it. Oxford studied me with her assessing dark eyes. Today she wore a deep red silk blouse over another silk shirt. She might not go out in the field, but she carried just as we all did.

My own Glock pressed against the chair. When I went undercover, I wouldn’t have it and the sense of safeness it gave me.

Oxford folded her hands on her table. She didn’t close the blinds, so the entire CC was visible—and we were visible to them. “Is this about Agent Donovan?”

Trust her to get straight to the point.

“Yes.” I tried not to squirm in my chair. She made me feel like a schoolgirl being evaluated by the principal. “If he’s going to be my co-TS, I need to know what he brings to the table.” I leaned forward in my chair. “And why he’s allowed to work a family member’s case.”

“You walk a fine line questioning my decisions, Steele.” Oxford’s eyes hardened and I wanted to shrink away from her. “However, I do understand your concern.”

Phew.

“When he served, Nick Donovan was one of the finest SEALs the Navy had. One of the best they’d ever had.” Oxford’s tone was as hard and even as ever. “As to the whys of his leaving the Navy with an honorable discharge, that is his personal business.”

She leaned forward, her hands still clasped on her desktop. “I have been attempting to recruit Donovan for six years due to his skills and how valuable an asset he would be to RED.”

OK, she was barely telling me more than Donovan. Were this guy’s skills that big of a state secret?

“But his sister?” I knew I should shut my mouth and of course didn’t.

Oxford looked at me like I had some nerve questioning her. “This time Donovan came to me. He agreed to sign the contract tying him to RED for a limited amount of time, his only provision being that he could join the operation that would help locate his sister.

“He is an extremely valuable resource.” She maintained her hard expression and tone. “And that is more than you need to know, Steele. I expect full cooperation with Donovan throughout this operation.”

Yeah, he would be an asset, even though it was hard to accept the fact that I wouldn’t be the sole TS on this op. I might have done the same thing in Oxford’s shoes.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “As far as going undercover, Perry is already trained—”

“Enough,” she said. I knew if I said one more word against Donovan, I was in deep shit. “Fully brief Agent Donovan in his role as your partner.” She gave a slight nod to the door. “He’s expecting you now.”

I got to my feet. “Thank you, ma’am,” I said before I headed to the door.

“Steele.” Her voice sounded a little less hard as I looked back to her. “Good luck.”

“Thank you,” I said before I turned and walked out the door, closing it behind me.

I didn’t even have time to mull over what she’d said as Nick Donovan chose that moment to round the counter, coming straight for me.

Sweaty nights, tangled sheets, and a hard muscular body between my thighs and pinning me down were the first thoughts that came to mind the moment I saw the man. He was raw power and masculinity in one satisfying, tasty package.

Today he wore a blue overshirt that brought out the brilliant blue of his eyes. His dark gray T-shirt stretched across his well-defined chest and abs. Those biceps and big, strong hands were made to hold a woman as he brought her to orgasm after orgasm.

And this was my new partner. Damn.

Get yourself under control, Steele.

“Conference room three is available.” Donovan didn’t have any expression on his hard features as he inclined his head toward the row of rooms along one of the catwalks above the CC. It was almost like last night hadn’t happened, and we hadn’t had our friendly little heart-to-heart.

I felt like a dopey puppy trying to keep up with his long strides. My shoes made no sound on the black tile catwalk as we passed over the busy CC, past conference rooms one and two, and reached three.

As I followed him, I remembered coming in Wednesday and seeing an unfamiliar backside walking into a conference room. It had been Donovan. Definitely the kind of ass a woman couldn’t forget.

Donovan held the door open and I walked through. The leather chair hugged my body as I slipped into a seat in front of a high-tech keyboard with a touchpad instead of keys. I registered my thumbprint on the scanner before it allowed me access to the files we needed.

At one end of the table a screen materialized, and I cued up a photograph with a list of stats beside a man’s face. “This is our informant, Chancy Yeager, who coughed up more info Wednesday to Takamoto.”

The informant was handsome but slick. He used his good looks and charisma to his advantage, and he liked the lifestyle he led with the money we paid him for solid information. “Yeager’s a dependable informant, so we think his info is good.” I leaned forward and folded my arms on the conference table as I studied Donovan.

“According to what he leaked to us, the most recent group, thirteen women, were just sold on the auction block two weeks ago,” I said. “His info is going to help us reach our objective and save those women before they’re shipped to the international buyers.”

Donovan remained silent but his expression grew darker and darker as I continued. “We tracked down the last auction to a chat room on the Internet. As you know, the slavers included footage of the men and women as they were auctioned.”

The anger overcoming me burned as I went on and thought about Donovan’s sister. “We failed to find the actual location of the auction.” I tried to get a grip on my emotions as I thought of Randolph. “We were certain we were close to finding them, but that’s when bad info was fed to Agent Randolph.”

Donovan looked at me intently and I cleared my throat. “Our current intel leads us to believe some of the women have already been delivered to their new ‘owners’ within the US.” Even saying the word owners made me want to take a bat to the head of each man involved. Or woman, if that was the case.

And I was good with a bat.

I glanced at Donovan, and the intense fury in his gaze was so clear that I caught my breath. All those hard, rough edges made him look dangerous now, lethal. On the table he clenched one of his hands hard enough that veins stood out on the back of it. Another taut vein ran along his neck and his jaw was tense, his eyes narrowed at the screen.

Still looking at Donovan, I continued. “The women who were sold to foreign buyers we are certain haven’t been shipped yet. From what Yeager gave us, within days this group will be gone. We’ve got to get to them first and, hopefully, stop the next auction before it happens. The clock is ticking.”

Donovan said nothing but looked back at Yeager’s profile.

I clicked another button on the keypad and a second photo flickered in the air. “This is our gem. Holly Endicott.” The picture I brought up was an image of a beautiful socialite posing on a red carpet and wearing a beige, ankle-length sequined dress, with long, dark hair and a brilliant smile. “She’s a billion-dollar baby. A player, big into kink with the club we’re going to penetrate.”

The word “penetrate” made me want to cough because getting into those clubs would involve a lot of that, in particular.

“Our man Yeager charmed the pants off Endicott and she managed to get us tickets into this exclusive club.” I looked at Donovan. “Yeager’s a bit of a bad boy and apparently Endicott has a thing for men who Very Rich Father would be appalled to see her bring home.”

Donovan leaned back in his chair and studied her picture.

“So she’s our ‘in’ to the inner circle of these three clubs.” I brought up an image to replace hers, this one of an exclusive nightclub. “The Champagne Slipper.” Another. “The Crystal Twilight.” A third. “The Glass House.”

I tapped the fingers of my left hand on the surface of the conference table. “Our objective is to infiltrate their exclusive inner circle and ”playrooms.’” I met Donovan’s eyes again. “The three are chic nightclubs, and fronts for the BDSM clubs Endicott supplied the tickets for.”

Donovan’s expression remained neutral as I went on.

“Back to Yeager.” I returned my gaze to the screen. “According to him there are three men who are potential ringleaders of the slave auctions. He can’t give us a definite, but he gave us this much.”

I touched the pad to bring up head shots of three men side by side. “Benjamin Cabot, Jason Strong, and Lucca Tarantino.” I clicked to a screen with Cabot’s information first.

Cabot’s olive-hazel eyes stared back at me from a classically handsome face. The fortysomething man looked fit beneath his Armani suit.

“Cabot is among the megarich with a home on Marlboro Street. Old money. Boston Brahmin.” I glanced at Donovan. “In case you’re not familiar with it, it’s one of the most prestigious properties in all of Boston. You’ve gotta have money to live there. Lots.” I went over some more statistics. Age, net worth, activities like tennis and golfing, and so on, before bringing up Lucca Tarantino’s mug and stats.

Tarantino was Italian, approximately the same age, early forties, and had a debonair air to his bearing. Angular features, olive skin, stunning emerald green eyes, and black hair.

He made a pretty picture—like a young 007 who was heavily into playing and watching pallone, as the Italians called soccer. “Where Cabot is old money, Tarantino is new. Made his bucks in the software industry after immigrating to the States as a child in a poor family.” I shook my head. “Smart man, or had some insider information, because he pulled out of the stock market before it crashed big-time. Left him pretty wealthy.” I gave more of Tarantino’s stats before moving on.

“Jason Strong is all over the board.” I studied the man’s heart-thudding profile. Strong could be mistaken for a very hot, older Vin Diesel—shaved head, muscles and all. “Strong has quite a stash of money, and even has his own private island.”

His stats were pretty much the same as the other men. Close to their forties, single, divorced—Tarantino three times—and each man donated large sums of money to various charities. Diesel, I mean Strong, was heavily into weightlifting—which was oh, so obvious, and a little interesting because of his last name. He was a major football fan. Big Red Sox fan as well, so he had a single point in his favor from me.

The laugh I gave was humorless. “Ironically enough, Tarantino gives a good deal of cash to women’s shelters.” I leaned back in my chair. “These three apparently get together on occasion to play racquetball and gamble a bit at their establishments. In private of course.”

Donovan drummed his fingers on the black granite conference table. “What makes these three men suspects?”

I touched the pad again and the screen vanished. “Women seem to disappear every so often from all three men’s clubs.”

Donovan frowned. “How do we know it’s related to the slave auctions?”

I tilted my head. “With the ticket Endicott gave Yeager to get him in, he had the opportunity to overhear one of the ‘regular Doms’ talking about buying one of the other missing girls in our case. The Dom pointed to another man’s sub, and said something like, ‘In the auction coming up I’d pay good money to buy that submissive. I’ll talk to the Man.’”

I let out a huff of breath. “That Dom who was looking to buy the girl stopped going to the club nights. The sub he’d said he wanted to buy disappeared. That missing girl’s real Dom was apparently pretty pissed when she vanished, from what Yeager said, so it leads us to believe ‘the Man’ was one of our three suspects.”

“I need more than that, Steele,” Donovan said.

“Well, you’ve got it.” With another touch to the pad in front of me, I brought up the face of a young brunette woman who looked drugged out of her mind. “Yeager recognized this woman from the vids of the last auction.” I cleared my throat again. “The same auction your sister was sold in.” Donovan’s face turned rock solid. “Yeager is sure she’s the sub who disappeared.”

Donovan clenched his fist on the granite table. “But he didn’t overhear any names?”

I pushed my chin-length hair behind my ears in a frustrated movement and some of it swung back against my cheeks. “All we do know is that only one ‘boss man’ was referred to, and that Cabot, Strong, and Tarantino own these clubs.” I pressed a button and the screen vanished. “The three could be in on it together, or it could be just one, maybe two of them.

“One of the things Randolph gathered in her intel,” I went on, trying not to choke when I said her name, “is that there’s someone higher up. Very high.” I rubbed my hand over my hair. “Even if the man responsible for these girls’ auction is one of the three we’re checking out, there is someone higher up.”

“Any more intel on that?” Donovan asked.

I shook my head. “Randolph couldn’t get a name.”

“What’s your plan, Steele?” Donovan asked with his steady blue gaze focused on me while he tapped the manila folder. “You said you’ve got this op under control.”

Heat crept up my neck. Damn it.

“Everything’s set,” I said. “The group meets on Saturdays. So tomorrow night you’re replacing Perry and infiltrating the inner circle of their private little BDSM club”—I wanted to groan as I added—“with me.”

Donovan nodded as if he’d expected this.

“Endicott provided Yeager with our two exclusive invitations, and RED is going to cough up some bucks,” I said. “The invitations for the inner circle include a twenty-five-thousand-dollar fee once we pass whatever tests there are. Twenty-five grand for each invitation.”

I opened up the file folder and withdrew the two envelopes that had “The Circle” stamped in gold leaf script on the front, and a red wax seal on the back. “These two invites already cost us fifty grand to Yeager.”

“I’m assuming you’ve found a way to read what’s on the inside of those sealed envelopes,” Donovan said.

“Sure did.” I slid one of the thick, creamy stationery envelopes across the table to Donovan. “In gold leaf on matching stationery, all it says is ‘Bearer is granted one-time entry into the Inner Circle.’”

Donovan nodded but didn’t pick up the envelope.

I blew out my breath and leaned back in my chair. “Then it’s our job to pass their inner-circle ‘tests’ to be a part of the group.”

“What tests?” Donovan asked.

“Could be anything to do with kink.” I looked at him. “Are you up for the challenge?”

“Whatever it takes,” he said.

“So you’ll be the submissive instead of Perry.” I barely held back a laugh. “And I’ll be the dominatrix who tries to get you as her sub.”

Donovan stared me directly in the eyes. “You’ve got it backward.” I bristled as he continued, “You’re going to be the good little submissive and I’m going to be the Dom who’s going to spank your ass.”

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe.”

I ground my teeth. “This isn’t going to work out. We’ll get Perry to go in with me as we had already planned.” He was going to be a good sub to my Dom.

“Live with it, Steele.” Donovan tapped the invitation. “It’s you and me, and nothing’s changing that.”

He was right, because Oxford would back him on this, not me.

I leaned forward. “Got any bondage gear?”

March29

Friday evening

Heat flushed my cheeks and my adrenaline was still high after a good softball game in Foley Park with my super, Marty, and some of the neighborhood guys. Marty had snagged me as soon as I stepped foot out of my Cherokee and I couldn’t say no. Our team didn’t win, but we’d come close. Todd, Marty, and Lou had walked me home, and we’d spent the time talking about the promising upcoming season for the Red Sox.

It had helped me work off some of the frustration after my less than productive meeting with Oxford. She wasn’t giving up any goods on Donovan nor was she letting me shake him loose. I was going to be up close and personal with Donovan.

I had stared down cold-blooded killers, but the thought of Donovan seeing me, touching me, possibly more left me shaking with desire, which frankly was pissing me off. If my reaction was this strong just thinking about it, what would happen when he actually put those strong hands on me or placed those delicious lips anywhere on my body? He would know just how to do it. So intense, so hard, that I would lose all sense of myself and still end up begging for more.

Time for a cold shower and a hot meal.

I was just starting to strip down when my doorbell rang. “Lexi’s gone,” I called out. “Come back next week.”

“Open up, Steele.” Georgina’s voice was loud, with a snap to it, and that meant trouble.

“What did I do now?” I grumbled as I rearranged my shirt, walked toward the door, and yanked it open.

Georgina strode through looking more gorgeous than any woman should be allowed to. Bitch.

But I loved her.

“You look like crap,” she said.

“Where’d you get that?” I checked out a glittery red dress that barely covered her boobs or her backside. “From the Barbie’s-going-out-and-going-down-on-a-Marine store?”

“Screw you, Steele.”

“If I swung that way, you’d be the first.”

She propped her hands on her hips and cocked her head so that her dark hair slid over her shoulder as her lips quirked. “Come on, baby. We’ll try it on for size. I’m game if you are.”

“Let’s see.” I looked her up and down. “You’re nearly six feet and I’m five-four.” I batted my eyelashes. “Do I get to be the girl?”

“Five-ten.” She smirked. “You, on the other hand, are lucky if you’re pushing five-four.”

I focused on her balloon boobs, obviously given extra oomph by Victoria’s Secret. “If I poke one will it pop?” Georgina’s snort of laughter didn’t go along with her exotic runway-model features.

I looked over her again. “Does Cal get the honors tonight?”

“I dumped dickhead.” A smug expression twisted her lips. “Met a guy at the social after Mass last Saturday.” She glanced down as if she could see through my floor to her apartment before she raised her dark eyes again. “Sweetie is waiting for me now.”

“Good little Italian Catholic girl has someone to take home to Mother.”

She gestured her head toward the kitchen where we usually had our girl chats. “You and I need to talk.”

Uh-oh. Wasn’t sure I liked her tone. “I hope this is about our girl’s day tomorrow.”

We pulled out chairs at the kitchen table and I plopped onto mine. She was as graceful as always when she seated herself.

I shoved aside two empty Chinese food cartons as I leaned my elbow on the table. “Okay. What gives?”

“Rumors are flying around RED that you forgot the meaning of low profile. So why don’t you fill me in? Now.”

I sighed. “Caught Gary with another woman.” Another ache stabbed my chest as her eyes widened. “Sonofabitch was screwing her Wednesday when I stopped by his place.”

“I’ll kill him.” She went rigid, her gaze hard. “Unless you already took care of it. Is he in the back of the Jeep? I’ll help you dump the body.”

“He’s not worth the jail time if they dragged Boston Harbor.” I braced my chin in my palm, my elbow still on the table. “I got him where it counts.” My throat felt scratchy and my laugh came out hoarse. “Took a bat to his truck and slit one of his tires.”

“In front of other people?” Georgina reached for her throat and made a choking sound when I nodded. “Damn. Are you out of your mind? And Oxford didn’t can you?” Her face was dead serious. “You’d better not pull that kind of crap again. Do you want to stand in the unemployment line or end up serving pastries and coffee at a Dunkin’ Donuts?”

I winced at the thought. “I was afraid of that when Oxford sent Takamoto and Smithe to get me out of jail.”

“Jail?” Georgina braced her palms on the table. “You ended up in jail? So that asshole Gary is pressing charges?”

“No.” Something crawled into my throat. “He told the cops he wasn’t, but they were already frisking me and found my Glock. I’d forgotten to put it in the glove compartment when I went in to see Gary.”

“Damn, girl.” She got up and walked to the fridge, grabbed a couple of bottles of Guinness, and cracked them open with the magnetic bottle opener that had been tacked to the fridge. She handed me a Guinness and sat back down.

The cure for anything—a bottle of Guinness and some girl talk.

“What happened to Stacy Randolph—it doesn’t seem real,” Georgina said in a much softer tone before either of us had taken a drink.

For a moment I glanced down at the table before looking at the Italian beauty who grew up in North End, but leased a floor of the triple-decker, with me and Marty leasing the other two levels.

“I miss her already.” I gripped my cold bottle. “I’m going to the funeral—it’s sometime Sunday morning.”

“Stacy was the kind of girl you couldn’t help but like.” Georgina reached out and touched my hand. “Would you like me to go to the funeral with you? Where will it be?”

“Sure.” My eyes ached and I rubbed them. “Forest Hills.”

She squeezed my hand. “I’ll call the mortuary and find out the exact time, and we’ll drive out together, okay?”

I gave a slow nod. “Thank you.”

We were both silent as we drank our beer.

“So what’s with this sexy new partner I hear you have? Nick Donovan, right?” she asked after a few minutes.

“Oxford said Donovan’s going in with me on this next op, not Perry” I groaned. “Donovan wouldn’t go for playing a submissive with me as the dominatrix.” I almost laughed at the thought of putting a studded collar around his neck. Then I grimaced. “But I’m less than crazy about playing the part of the sub to his Dom.”

“You—a, a submissive?” Georgina snorted and started laughing so loud and so long that her eyes grew wet and mascara streaked her face.

I gripped the cold bottle as she kept giggling. “It’s not like I haven’t been through worse. How about when I helped you with that huge narcotics bust last week, in that warehouse that smelled like endless gallons of horse piss? That’s gotta be worse than a—” Crap. “A BDSM club.”

She gave another snort of laughter and smacked her bottle of Guinness on the tabletop hard enough to make a loud thunk.

“Hey, you’re gonna damage the pricey laminate.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s only as old as this trip we live in.”

I sniffed. “It’s an antique.”

“Those dark circles under your eyes aren’t from this thing with Gary.” She looked me up and down. “Or Randolph.”

The short strands felt scratchy against my cheeks as I shoved my hair out of my face. “Been a long couple of days. Operation Cinderella is coming together, but it’s been a total bitch getting the inside intel we need to make a move.” And the nightmares weren’t helping a damned bit. It was almost like not getting sleep at all sometimes.

“Get some rest, Lexi.” Georgina sounded like the concerned friend she was, one who’d been through so much with me.

I waved my hand in a dismissive gesture. “Don’t you have a party or something to get to with that sweet little Catholic boy?”

“Sam’s not going anywhere.” She shrugged. “He’s probably watching the tube while he waits.”

I drained my bottle of Guinness and stood. “So go find out if he’s a good lay.”

“He’s got big feet and hands.” She put on a sultry look and used her low, sexy voice. “I just hope he lives up to expectations.”

With a grin, I shook my head. Then pictured Donovan’s good-sized feet and hands and nearly groaned again.

Georgina’s smile turned into a frown. “I’m not so sure I like the idea of you in a BDSM club.”

I wasn’t so sure either.

“It’ll be fine.” I rolled my empty bottle in my palms. “We’ll be in and out.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” She narrowed her brows. “A little in-and-out action. You know what goes on in those places, don’t you?”

“I’ve done my research, and I’ve visited some of the tamer clubs, where you can watch and don’t have to play.” Warmth flushed up my face to the roots of my hair. “As far as this op, we’ll just make sure we get what we need as fast as we can.”

“If this Nick Donovan is as hot as rumor has it, this op might not be so bad if it does come along.” Her mouth curved from the frown to a slight smile.

“He’s just my partner.” The heat in my face grew hotter as I pictured just that—him coming. “Now, for our shopping trip tomorrow.”

“Oh, honey, I’ll take care of you.” Georgina’s exotic dark eyes sparkled as she stood on her tiny red heels. “I know exactly what places we need to hit.”

“I’ve got a hair appointment at ten.” We walked to the front door. “Followed by a manicure and a pedicure.” And oh, lord, a wax job I really wasn’t looking forward to.

“Meet you here at nine-thirty,” she said before she let herself out the door.

I rolled my eyes as I locked the door with the industrial chain. Yeah, this little shopping trip with Georgina ought to be interesting. And just wait until Oxford got a look at the expense voucher.