Seduction Squad: Tainted Page 5

  “There is something I think you should see.”

  Paolo had elevated enigmatic into an art form. If the guy hadn’t been so good at keeping secrets, I’d have considered getting rid of him just for the luxury of an occasional smile from someone who appeared partway human.

  He led me to one of the suites and indicated the items that were spread out on the bed.

  “As usual, I conducted a thorough search of all your guest’s luggage. There are several items in Ms. Mason’s belongings that concern me.”

  I looked down at Christie’s clothes, toiletries, jewelry and makeup. She had followed the recruiter’s instructions well. In a few days’ time, my guests would be arriving and the women who had been brought on board for my entertainment—my lip curled slightly at the word—would change roles. They would entertain their fellow passengers. Usually a mix of business leaders, politicians and celebrities, they came on board The Dark Side for the same reason I did. To escape. This time, I had selected the mix of personalities for different, darker reasons.

  Paolo pointed to a pendant necklace. “I noticed this first.”

  The chain was silver, constructed of thick links supporting a heavy, aquamarine teardrop. Although it was eye-catching, it didn’t look like the sort of thing Christie—the Christie I had once known—would choose. This was flashier than her usual dainty style. I wondered if it had been given to her by a man. A flare of rage and jealousy tore through me at the thought, almost knocking me off my feet.

  Where the fuck did that come from? Did you think she lived like a nun for the last ten years?

  It didn’t matter. The craving to find every man she had ever been with and detach his balls from his body was overwhelming. Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately, depending on your perspective—I didn’t have any space in my current schedule to put this burning new ambition into practice.

  Paolo dropped the pendant into the palm of my hand. It was surprisingly heavy.

  “It’s a monster. So what?”

  He held out his hand and I returned it to him. “Monster. An apt description.”

  Grasping the teardrop, he gave it a sharp wrench. When it came away in his hand, it revealed a thin, stiletto-type blade.

  “It’s a cunning device.” Paolo held the teardrop up to show me the inside. “The blade folds in on itself when it is stored away. When it’s released, it springs out. Rather like a switchblade.”

  “Very neat.” Christie had always been resourceful. “Self-defense just got stylish.”

  He gave me a curious look. “I then examined the young lady’s toiletries and makeup, sir.” He pointed to the array of bottles, packs and tubes. “This one interested me. You will note that it is very different to the other items. They are all well-known, quite expensive brands.”

  He held up a small, brown glass bottle. The label indicated that it contained bath salts. Paolo lifted the stopper and held it out to me.

  “It has no smell,” I said.

  “And some therapeutic salts may not.” His expression continued to give nothing away. “But I have a feeling that, if you asked the young lady to come in here and swallow some of the contents of that bottle, she would become quite hysterical.”

  “I imagine she would. Why might I ask her to do something so bizarre as to eat her bath product, Paolo?”

  “Because I suspect that bottle contains arsenic.”

  I remained silent, considering the implications of what he was saying. I had known she was lying to me. The thought drummed itself through my brain. Over and over. Now I knew why. But I didn’t know all of it. Not yet.

  “Shall I continue, sir?”

  I gave a curt nod.

  “There are a few other items. A length of fishing wire hidden in the lining of the suitcase. Such an item could be used—”

  “Yes, I know,” I interrupted impatiently. “It’s a stealthy way to garrote, an improvised weapon often used by an assassin.” I had used just such a wire myself on many occasions.

  “This purse has a clasp that, when removed, is a brass knuckle.”

  A brass knuckle? What the fuck is going on?

  “Finally, there is this.” Paolo held up a smartphone that had been on a table at the side of the bed.

  “You can get into her messages?”

  He managed a slight, smug smile. “It’s much more interesting than that.” Flipping the base of the phone downward to reveal a trigger, he pointed it toward me. “This is a gun.”

  “Anything else?” As if that wasn’t fucking enough.

  “The rest is what it seems. Although...” He held out a T-shirt with a picture of a cute kitten holding a bloodstained machete between its paws. Killer Pussy. “This seemed—” he paused, a slightly fastidious look on his face, “—unusual.”

  “Make some inquiries.”

  “I’ve already started, sir.”

  Killer Pussy? It tugged at something on the edge of my consciousness. She couldn’t have. Could she?

  Chapter Eleven

  Christie

  “When you have showered, ring the buzzer and Paolo will escort you to me.”

  “I don’t see why I can’t shower in my own cabin.”

  Although I tried for a haughty approach, it wasn’t easy to maintain. I was clutching a crumpled bedsheet around me. The clothes I had worn the night before were scattered all over the cabin. I was red in the face from my efforts to pry open the lock on the door. I smelled of sweat, frustration and last night’s sex marathon.

  Yet none of those things were the real reason for the feeling of squirming embarrassment that assailed me while Theo led me through to a vast bathroom in his own suite. That could only be explained by the insistent thrilling sensation that had pulsed through my clit as soon he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

  I should be kicking him in the balls, not salivating because I want to lick him all over.

  “I need a change of clothes. My own clothes.”

  He smiled and indicated the closet. I went to it warily, uncertain of what I would find. Had he replicated my entire eighteen-year-old wardrobe from memory? To my surprise, my suitcase had been unpacked, the items neatly placed on hangers, or folded on shelves, inside.

  “Don’t worry. Everything is here. I’m not in the habit of stealing from my guests.”

  I wanted to point out that, even before he had locked me in a cabin, I hadn’t been a guest. He was paying a lot of money for me to be here. But I had other things on my mind. Like who the hell had unpacked my belongings? And how closely had they examined each item? There was nothing in Theo’s eyes to indicate that he was angry, or even suspicious.

  As head of the Seduction Squad’s security, Jake had personally prepared my assassination kit. I was impressed with his attention to detail and the way each item had been cleverly disguised. But what did I really know about such things? Although I was Jake’s prodigy, passing every aspect of my induction with flying colors, this was my first assignment. My target might be high profile, and I knew the Signora would have sent a more experienced operative if she could. I was only here because she had tried and failed to get someone else on board this boat in the past.

  When it came to my kit, an expert would probably know what to look for. I tried to reassure myself that the chances of Theo having an expert in the field of professional slaughter on his staff were remote. As far as I could see, he didn’t even have a bodyguard. I wasn’t entirely sure what his business entailed. My father had labeled him “dodgy” without going into specifics. He told me there were whispers about which side of the law Theo chose to conduct his business. That sounded like Theo. Whatever path he was walking, he would always choose the shady side.

  Was it likely he would suspect me of coming on board The Dark Side with the intention of murdering one of his guests? I
didn’t think so. And, although I felt safer with my assassination kit close by, Jake had taught me well. I’d back myself in hand-to-hand combat with any of the men on this boat, Theo included. Anyway, if my carefully concealed weapons had been discovered, surely Theo would have been looking at me with something other than mild amusement?

  His attitude was unnerving. Everything about him tilted me off balance. It wasn’t just about sex. Okay, it was mostly about sex. Because, when the sex was so amazing, how could it not dominate my thoughts, my whole awareness? How could it not have changed my life? Even so, I was hyperaware of other things about him.

  Ten years ago, I had been eighteen. I was an adult in the eyes of the law. Way back in the past, that was the point where the line had been drawn. It could be argued that possibly I wasn’t grown-up. Maybe I wasn’t fully formed. When I thought I loved Theo, perhaps I didn’t know my own mind. That would have been the argument put forward by my father if he’d ever discovered how I felt about his stepbrother. Even when he died, my father had still thought of me as a child. The truth was, I’d been a remarkably mature eighteen-year-old. I had loved Theo with everything I had in me. The only thing that changed that was a brutal rejection from the man himself. Even then, I wasn’t sure the feelings had died. I had just become an expert at ruthlessly suppressing them, disguising them as something else.

  Theo had been twenty-six. So, I wouldn’t expect to see any great difference in him. And there wasn’t. Not really. And yet...

  It was subtle. A hint of darkness he no longer tried to hide. He’d had that bad boy edginess back then. That feeling of menace beneath the designer suits. Theo Ward had always been a tiger waiting to pounce. In the last ten years, something had honed it, giving it a razor-sharp edge. He was the same man. Just more.

  “Why have my clothes been moved in here?” I was conscious of Theo’s eyes on my face as he watched my reaction. Was he watching for something, or was I being paranoid? I decided there was no such thing as paranoia in the Seduction Squad. Just good, old-fashioned survival instinct.

  “Because this is where you are staying.”

  “No, it isn’t.” I gathered my bedsheet around me in what should have been the manner of a Roman goddess with her toga. As I stalked toward the door, I suspected it was more end-of-the-night-fancy-dress-party.

  Theo moved so fast I barely saw him. What the fuck kind of workout regimen gave him those reflexes? My earlier confidence about being able to take him in a fight began to fade. I might be Jake’s star pupil but Theo had size, power, and speed on his side.

  He caught hold of me by the waist, pushing me hard up against the wall, keeping me in place with his body. When I looked at his face, I saw it. I saw the reason why my father feared Theo, even though he couldn’t resist dipping his greedy hands into his stepbrother’s business activities. I knew why there were constant whispers about which side of the law Theo Ward chose to walk. I understood the look that had passed between the Signora and Jake when I told them my step-uncle’s name.

  The man I was looking at wasn’t just dangerous. He was feral.

  “Yes, it fucking is.”

  I started to squirm, trying to get away from him. Within seconds, the movement became something else. Feral or not, he excited the hell out of me. No longer wanting to escape, I was trying to heighten the sensation of my body on his. Catching hold of my hands, Theo raised them over my head and kept them there, gripping them with one of his own hands over my wrist. He leaned in closer, taking my lower lip between his teeth, sucking it into his mouth.

  “Stop fighting me, Christie.”

  He slid a hand down, lifting the bedsheet until it was around my waist, keeping it pinned between us. His fingers moved between my legs, probing the warm flesh of my folds.

  I made a movement to jerk away from him and the frown descended again. “Don’t move.”

  Maintaining eye contact, he rubbed his thumb fast and hard over my clit. Three hard, quick strokes. That was all it took. The third time, I came, my whole body shuddering with shock and pleasure. Gazing into the midnight abyss of his eyes, something shifted in that moment. We both knew who was in control of my body. That silent exchange of glances was the acknowledgment of everything I feared. By coming onto this boat, I had walked into my own prison. He would never release me because I wouldn’t let him.

  Theo let go of my hands, catching me as I slumped helplessly into his arms.

  “Get your shower. I’ll be on deck. Paolo will escort you to me when you are ready.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Theo

  “She seems to have disappeared for the last six months.”

  I gazed at Paolo steadily. Although my eyes were hidden from view behind the dark glass of my shades, he got the message.

  “I understand that is not good enough, sir. I will keep searching until I discover where she was.”

  He gave one of his formal bows and walked stiffly away.

  Six months? What the fuck had she been doing in that time? And why, at the end of it, had she turned up on my boat with a suitcase full of lethal weapons? I could try and fool myself it was because of my personal magnetism, but she’d managed to stay away from me for ten long years. And fooling myself might just get my throat slit with a silver teardrop pendant, or find me drinking an arsenic-laced cup of coffee.

  I smiled at the thought. Life had gotten a whole lot more interesting since Christie stepped back into it.

  My observation deck had a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view over the whole boat. From this vantage point, I could see the swimming pool, the helicopter pad and the hot tubs on the balconies of the guest cabins. It also gave me a bird’s-eye view of the activities of the crew members as we departed our unscheduled stop. The Dark Side ran like a dream. Of course. Every part of my empire did.

  It’s not easy consistently, successfully breaking the law. There were two sides to my business. The legitimate, public face accounted for probably five percent of my earnings. The other side? The drugs, money laundering, weapon smuggling, human trafficking? That was pure gold. It was also fucking hard work.

  As if in answer to that thought, my cell phone buzzed. I glanced at the display and sighed. Not what I needed right now.

  “I got another of those letters today.” She didn’t bother with a greeting.

  “Burn it.”

  “I want you to find out who is writing them.” She regularly did this thing where she forgot who was in charge.

  “I will. Once this job is over. In the meantime, a few letters won’t hurt us.”

  “You think he, or she, isn’t serious about these warnings?”

  “I think I can handle it.”

  She huffed out a sigh. I could almost feel her longing to disagree. “I’ve arranged to have my private plane fly out to Miami to meet you. Are you sure you don’t want me to come early? That way you could brief me about your guests and I can be your hostess for this party.”

  I shuddered. I had grown up without a mother, meeting her when I was an adult. We had gone into business together. That was the extent of our relationship. We were partners, successful ones. I would never willingly spend any more time in her company than I needed to.

  “I already have a hostess, thank you.” Christie might not know it yet, but I’d take her hissing feigned reluctance and deadly, concealed arsenal over my mother any day. “And, Cora—” I had never called her anything else. Mother, mom, ma. She had never been any of those things. “—I mean it. Leave the letters to me.”

  I ended the call. There had been other occasions—messy occasions—when she hadn’t left things to me. We both did brutal and bloody, but I preferred subtlety when I killed. Cora didn’t understand finesse. As long as she got her way, she didn’t care who she hurt in the process. That old expression “a sledgehammer to crack a nut”? Cora would use a
four-wheel drive and a flame-thrower...and annihilate all the other nuts in the vicinity in case they talked. My mother, ladies and gentlemen.

  When Archie Ward married Cora Basile, their organizations had combined and become one of the most powerful criminal gangs in the world. When I was born, Cora had been too wrapped up in the business to take any notice of me. Luckily, my father had been the one to bring me up. By the time he decided he wanted out—out of the marriage, a back seat in the business, out of the lifestyle—I think Cora had forgotten we both existed.

  I was three when Archie married Ruth Mason, Oliver’s mother and Christie’s grandmother. It was a totally different world. I grew up knowing nothing about my birth mother...until she walked back into my life on the day of my father’s funeral.

  “This view is stunning.” Christie’s voice drew my thoughts away from the mother from hell.

  I was thirty-six years old. Surely it should no longer be possibly for a woman to take my breath away? But that was what she did. She wore a short, white dress that just skimmed the tops of her thighs. It had shoestring straps and a center lace panel. Her hair was caught back in a loose braid and topped with a straw sun-hat. Flat leather sandals completed the look. I didn’t know much about women’s fashion, but the whole outfit made me think of music festivals or lazy summer days in the park. Not that I had ever indulged in either of those things.

  I rose and held out a chair for her, drinking her in. Every detail made my senses soar. I wanted to trace the tiny scar on her temple, caused when she fell off her bike when she was fourteen, with my tongue. The darker gold freckles enhanced the perfection of her skin like a smattering of gold dust. The scent of her hair took me back in time. Was it my imagination? Could it really smell the same way it had back then, of magnolia and roses? I wanted to bury my face in its silken mass and check.

  This was the sweetest heaven and the darkest hell. Heaven because being close to her again was all my dreams come true. Hell because I was sitting on a time bomb and the ticking was getting louder by the minute.