Seduction Squad: Tainted Page 8

  Chapter Seventeen

  Christie

  It was time to dress for dinner. Theo and I watched as the guests wandered off to their cabins then, still holding my hand in his, he led me up the short flight of steps to the master suite. His speed increased until, despite my killer heels, I was running alongside him by the time we reached the bedroom.

  Theo slammed the door behind him. Leaning his shoulders against it, he fumbled desperately with his pants, barely getting his zipper all the way down before I dropped to my knees and fastened my mouth over the bulging head of his cock. I felt his groan reverberate through me as I sucked him as deep and hard as I could. Fiery hot, hard and silky, he tasted delicious.

  Releasing him with a popping sound, I kissed around the rim of his cock before probing his slit with the tip of my tongue.

  “Fuck.” The word was a tortured groan escaping his lips.

  Gripping the base of his shaft in one hand, and cupping his balls with the other, I opened my lips wide and took him as deep as I could into my mouth. I commenced a sweeping rhythm, taking in his full length then licking the sensitive underside of his cock as I pulled back again. His breathing was rapid, his body tense. Moans punctuated his gasps.

  “I need to come inside you.”

  As soon as I pulled up my dress and got my underwear off, Theo, almost in one movement, lifted me up, holding me with my back against the wall as he fumbled a condom out of his pocket. As soon as he was sheathed, he drove his cock into me so hard I saw stars. Holding me in place with his hands gripping my buttocks, he fucked me with slow, deliberate thrusts, sending an electric current of pleasure up and down my spine.

  His eyes bored into mine, torment in their dark depths. “You have no idea how much I want you. All the time.”

  I was already close, and his words tipped me over the edge. “I’m coming.”

  “Do it. Come around my cock. Let me feel it.”

  I let go, closing my eyes as I tightened and convulsed, squeezing him hard with each contraction of my muscles. Every nerve in my body felt the impact of my orgasm as I moaned and shuddered. Theo cursed long and hard in my ear as he joined me, his cock pumping rhythmically inside me. He kissed me, drawing my tongue into his mouth and sucking it gently as he pulled out of me and lowered me to my feet.

  “Every time you look my way during this fucking cruise, no matter who I’m talking to, no matter what I’m saying, you can be sure that I will be remembering this.” He murmured the words against my neck. “Being inside you. And getting hard just thinking about what I’m going to do when I get you alone.”

  After I had bathed and Theo was showering, I dressed in one of the designer gowns he had bought for me. It was full-length, oyster-colored satin. High necked at the front, it was backless, plunging almost all the way to the cleft in my buttocks. I piled my hair on top of my head and was seated at the dressing table, applying my makeup, when Theo emerged from the bathroom.

  Wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist, he paused, studying my rear view. Our eyes met in the mirror, and I wondered if he could sense my nervousness.

  “Can you see bruises?” I asked, making an effort to keep my voice light. The paddle had been given another strenuous workout the night before.

  His gaze dropped to my ass. “No, but I wish I could. Are you still sore?”

  “Yes.” I smiled. I wanted to keep my focus on him, but the task ahead of me was demanding my concentration. Luckily, Theo’s attention was easily distracted. “Every time I sit down, it reminds me and makes me wet.”

  He groaned as his erection put the towel under serious strain. “Fuck. If we didn’t have to be on deck in five minutes, I’d show you exactly what those words do to me.”

  I got to my feet, patting his cheek as I passed him. “You’ll just have to think pure thoughts until we’re alone.”

  I watched him dress, hiding my nervousness beneath a calm exterior. It wasn’t the coming dinner that concerned me. I was used to social occasions. Meeting new people, conversing with strangers, judging the ebb and flow of a party...it was all second nature to me.

  What was occupying my mind constantly was the problem of how the hell I was going to get away from Theo for long enough to kill Ferran Garcia.

  “Your mother seems like an interesting character.” I said it to make conversation. I didn’t expect the whiplash of fury that turned his head in my direction.

  “Christie, if you never listen to another word I say to you, listen to what I am about to tell you now.” His voice was different. Hard and icy. “Stay away from Cora.”

  “Back in Tennessee, when your father was alive, I never heard either of you talk about her.”

  “That’s because we hoped she was dead.” I shivered as I realized who his voice reminded me of. He sounded like his mother.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Theo

  “Really, Theo? Oliver Mason’s daughter? Try for a little class.”

  Cora was about to develop the theme she had just started, but, after taking a look at my face, she closed her mouth so fast her jaw made a snapping sound. She must have seen something in my eyes. Something that told her how close I was to wrapping my hands around her scrawny throat and choking the fucking life out of her.

  Dinner was over and the guests were milling around the deck, sipping cocktails and enjoying the view. Christie was deep in conversation with Ferran Garcia and I tried not to let my gaze stray her way too often. There were too many people here who could notice my obsession and make use of it. One of them was standing right next to me.

  “What possessed you?” Cora swept a hand around the deck in an all-encompassing gesture.

  Although I knew exactly what she meant, I decided to act dumb. “I don’t understand.”

  No one could infuse expression into a snort the way Cora could. She had a range of snorts, depending on the occasion. This was the one she used to convey contempt. “There are ten guests on this boat. And every one of them wants you dead. You have invited your ten worst enemies on a luxury cruise around the Bahamas, putting yourself alone with them in the middle of the ocean. It seems like a stupid thing to do, but you’ve never given me any reason to believe you are stupid, Theo. So why would you do something that makes it look like you have a death wish?”

  Damn. I knew she’d notice. And she was right. Every single person on this guest list would willingly put a bullet in my brain. They would be pushing each other out of the way to pull the trigger. It was like one of those black-and-white movies where it was impossible to guess the killer because everyone had a motive.

  “Maybe I thought it was time to settle some old differences.”

  Another snort—the one she used to signal disbelief—was followed by a brief silence.

  “Don’t screw this up for me, Cora. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Eleven.” She gave me an unblinking stare.

  “Pardon?”

  “Eleven people on this boat would gladly see you dead.”

  I took a sip of my champagne. “Are you ready to slip that stiletto of yours between my shoulder blades at last?”

  She gave me a pitying look. “You don’t seriously think Oliver Mason’s daughter bears you no ill will, do you?”

  An image of a knife concealed in a teardrop pendant, a gun disguised as a smartphone, and a bottle of arsenic came into my mind. A bottle of fucking arsenic? What the hell was taking Paolo so long with those inquiries?

  I smiled sweetly. “If she so much as breaks a nail while she is in your company, Cora, I will rip your fucking head off.”

  “I always knew you took after me and not that spineless loser I married.” She laughed and patted my cheek. “Has it occurred to you that someone on this boat is responsible for writing those letters? The ones that contain a warning about yo
ur impending horrible death?”

  I held her gaze with mine. “It has now.” I was lying. I’d known all along who the letter writer was.

  Cora’s eyes delivered her stare right into the back of the other person’s skull. When I looked at her I could see why ancient superstitions believed evil could be transferred through the eyes.

  I didn’t know what made my mother a bitter, hateful person with a venom-laced tongue. She never spoke about her past and I never asked. All I knew was she lived her life in darkness, and she wanted me to do the same. While I might prefer the shadows, I was never going to succumb to Cora’s unique brand of lunacy. When I refused to submit to her control, things could get nasty. We’d been dancing around the edge of a confrontation for a long time now and the abyss was looming.

  When I didn’t back down, Cora went away to try her gunslinger glare on someone else. A few minutes later, I saw her talking to Karl Abramov, a Russian gang leader who specialized in underage prostitution. Cora had tried to kill Abramov countless times, but he was almost as well protected as she was. Once they were deep in conversation, I moved to Christie’s side.

  “What do you think of my guests?” I let her feel the full force of my own stare. Cat to mouse. If nothing else, Cora was a good teacher.

  If Christie was squirming, she hid it well. “You have some unusual friends.” She tilted her head to look at me and the urge to lick my way down her neck became a fire in my blood. I tightened my grip on my champagne glass, battling to maintain control. “They don’t like you. Or each other.”

  “Welcome to my world.”

  “What is your world, Theo?” There! I caught a tiny flash of something other than serenity in the depths of her eyes. It could have been fear. I decided to push it. Not enough to alert her that I knew...because, what did I know? Just enough to unsettle her.

  “My world is an elite one, but its members will never walk the red carpet or make the front pages.” I leaned on the deck rail, watching her face as I spoke. “The people you see here are the flip side of celebrity. Dark royalty that no one outside our tight-knit circle ever speaks of. Every person here has a total disregard for law, order, morality, and, in many cases, human life.”

  “You too?” Her eyes were huge, her expression unreadable.

  I didn’t answer. Instead, I nodded toward the guests. “Take Luigi Olivieri over there. No one would think to look at the guy that his organization is responsible for the largest percentage of cocaine imported into the United States every year. There have been five assassination attempts on Luigi in the last six months by rival gangs.”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Don’t you think it’s interesting to get these little snippets of information about your guests?” I took her curt nod as a signal to continue. “Then we have Joe Ross. His business is illegal gambling. He’s the best there is. Again, there are any number of business rivals who would pay to see him dead.”

  Christie took a gulp of champagne. “There seems to be a theme here. Most of the people on this boat are walking targets.”

  I had to admire her. I was playing with her, taunting with her, yet she threw it back at me. Vulnerable as hell, she was still prepared to attack.

  “Not most, Christie. All.” Including me. And her. I might have warned Cora to back off, but there were no guarantees she would listen. Christie didn’t need to know that. I would protect her. To do that I needed to get her off this boat so I could focus on the ever-shortening fuse on that time bomb.

  “And then there’s the man you were talking to earlier.” Her eyes flicked to Ferran Garcia. I didn’t want to do this. Didn’t want to be the cat to Christie’s mouse. Didn’t want to play fucking mind games with her. All I wanted to do was hold her in my arms. But you know what they say. When the cat looks away, the mouse gets out her smartphone gun and plays target practice with his balls. Something like that.

  “Garcia talks like an angel, but he’s the dirtiest politician I know. He’s quadruple-crossed every person on this boat, and used dirty tricks to bring down his opponents. The price on his head would make your eyes water.”

  “Well you’ve certainly given me something to think about.” Christie’s smile, although bright, didn’t quite reach her eyes. I felt a fierce sense of pride. My girl knew how to put on a show. All those political parties had taught her well. “I should probably go and talk to some more evil bastards.” The smile switched. Became genuine. “Other than the one I’m with right now.”

  I laughed. She could do fake and so could I. As soon as she’d gone, I called Paolo over to me.

  “How are your inquiries going?” I nodded in Christie’s direction.

  “I have some information, but maybe not a complete picture.”

  “Tell me what you have.”

  He looked nervous. Maybe it was my tone of voice. “I need to show you some images on my laptop.”

  I set my champagne glass down. Fuck the self-destruct cruise party, the letter writer, and the death-stare excuse for a mother. This was about Christie. She was more important than life or death. “Show me now.”

  Paolo had an office near the staff quarters. When we got inside, he flicked on the light and opened the laptop that was on his desk. He pointed to an image of a man.

  “Jacob Coetzee. Known as Jake. That’s his real name. He uses many aliases.”

  Mahogany skinned, with shoulder-length dreadlocks, tattoos and piercings, Jake Coetzee was a giant of man.

  “Cage fighter?” I asked without looking away from the screen.

  “Among other things. He worked for the Zimbabwean unit. Was one of their best operatives.”

  I looked up sharply at that. Until their commander died in suspicious circumstances, the Zimbabweans had been a small, but deadly, force of mercenaries. If Coetzee had been part of that, he was not to be taken lightly.

  “What does this man have to do with Christie Mason?” If it involved touching her in any way, Coetzee was already dead.

  Paolo opened a file and two new images appeared on the screen. “You wanted me to find out what the young lady had been doing during the last six months?”

  “Yes.” I managed to restrain my impatience. Barely.

  Paolo pointed to the first image. Although it was in color, it was a blurry still taken from security camera footage. It showed two figures entering a building. One was clearly Coetzee from his build and his dreadlocks. The other was much smaller and slighter.

  “This was taken three months ago at a private gym Coetzee uses.”

  The second image showed the same people leaving the gym. This was a clearer image. Coetzee was holding the door open for his companion and they were laughing together. There was no question about the identity of the second person this time. It was Christie.

  “What does this prove?” I made an attempt to point at the laptop, but I didn’t want Paolo to see the shake in my hand. “She and Coetzee are an item? The Zimbabwean unit is back in business and she’s working for him?”

  “I got these pictures from the manager at the gym.” Paolo had sources everywhere, mostly because I gave him access to unlimited funds. “He said Coetzee is a Krav Maga instructor. He brought the young lady to the gym for training sessions. On one occasion, the manager heard Coetzee telling her that he had never brought one of his students to his private gym before. It was additional instruction because she was the best of his pupils. He said she could have been a professional.”

  “Pupil? What the fuck was he teaching her?”

  Paolo cleared his throat. “You asked if they were an item. The answer to that is ‘no.’ When you discover who Coetzee’s partner is, the answer to what he was teaching the young lady may also become evident.”

  Another picture filled the screen. A stunning, red-haired woman gazed up at me wit
h a half-smile curving her full lips.

  “Inge.” I breathed the name of the Seduction Squad’s most beautiful killing machine. Inge Lopez de Vega had tried to get me in her deadly clutches many times. Probably any or all of the ten people on board my boat right now had, at one time or another, paid the Seduction Squad’s extortionate prices to get Inge to try and fuck my business secrets out of me. Avoiding her was like dancing just out of reach of a black widow spider.

  “Not any more, sir. Inge is now the Signora.”

  I started to laugh. My wildest guess had been right all along. It was almost a relief. Christie wasn’t fucking the musclebound Zimbabwean. He had been turning her into a fucking killing machine. And I meant both words—fucking and killing—literally. My sweet Christie had joined the lethal squad of women who used their bodies to destroy the world’s most powerful men.

  Mentally, I reviewed the guest list once more, trying to decide who her target was. The only person I could rule out for sure was myself. There had been many opportunities for her to slaughter me. If I was her intended victim, she was either not living up to her reputation as Coetzee’s star pupil, or she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do it. I knew Christie better than anyone did. If she wanted me dead, I would be lying in my master cabin with my balls hacked off and stuffed down my throat.

  No, I wasn’t Christie’s target. Now I knew she was part of the Seduction Squad, I had a good idea which of my top ten enemies was.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Christie

  My first impression of Ferran Garcia had been wrong. The guy was a sleazeball lecher who couldn’t keep his hands to himself. If he tried to grope me one more time, he was going to get a kick so hard it would leave the name of my designer shoe forever imprinted on his balls. When I tried to turn the conversation to his country’s politics, it was clear Theo was right and his anti-corruption ticket was all talk. He was here on Theo’s boat for a reason, and it was all about money. I had heard his sort of rhetoric before. From my own father.