Dangerous Master (6 page)
Mandy shoved a hand into her pocket. Her fingertips found the crisp bills tucked in the bottom. “I have no doubt about that.”
“You should do it.”
“But if I do, I won’t be able to get Clark. Or anyone else at his parties.”
Sarah shrugged. “How much is Clark’s wife paying you?”
Not as much as Zane would. That was for sure. “I can see where you’re going with this—”
“Did you just say last week that you’d love to have something steady? Something that would generate a more level stream of income?”
“Yes, but—”
“This is the perfect setup.” Exuberantly, Sarah flung her arms around Mandy’s neck, gave it a bouncy squeeze, and released her. “Just think, you can work his parties on the weekends and pick and choose the cases you want to work during the week.”
What Sarah said made a lot of sense.
“No more worrying about when the next case will come in.”
That part would be nice.
“Not to mention, you’d be sure to get me invited to every single party he has ... right?”
“Ah, so that’s why you’re so happy.”
Sarah beamed. “What can I say? I’m no saint. I’d pimp you, if it meant I’d get a lifetime membership to the Zane Club. Did you see the male guests at that last party?” Mandy nodded. “I mean, did you really
see
them? They were all fifteens, on a scale of one to ten.”
see
them? They were all fifteens, on a scale of one to ten.”
“There were a lot of very good-looking men.”
Sarah snorted. “You’re funny, Mandy. ‘Good-looking’? That’s the understatement of the century. When’s his next party?”
“He mentioned something about this weekend.”
“Hot damn!” Sarah extended a hand while eyeballing the clock. “It’s my lunch hour. Can I have my paycheck? I’m gonna do some shopping. Need to buy a few things—”
“Wait a minute. I didn’t say I’d take the job yet.”
Sarah donned her dom face. “If you don’t take the job, I swear, you’ll regret it.” She grinned. “But it won’t be because of what I did.”
Mandy pulled Sarah’s check out of her drawer and handed it to her. And before she could say one way or another, Sarah bounded out of the room.
6
“Y
ou’ll never guess who’s at Twisted Hearts!” Sarah whispered into the phone.
ou’ll never guess who’s at Twisted Hearts!” Sarah whispered into the phone.
Sitting at her desk, fuming over the fact that Sarah’s lunch hour had lasted for nearly two hours now, Mandy pressed her cell tighter to her ear and grumbled, “Who?”
“Andrew Clark!”
Mandy tucked her phone between her shoulder and ear and signed the rent check sitting on her desk. “Great. Is he fucking anyone?”
“No, of course he’s not. This is a store, not a motel.”
“Then what’s the big deal?” she asked, pulling the check out of the book and folding the carbon copy up to reveal the next blank check.
“The big deal is the ginormous dildo he’s buying.”
Mandy scribbled the name of the electric company on the first line of the check and sighed. “Sarah, so what?”
“He’s gotta use that thing sometime.”
“Yeah. And it’s not going to help our case. There’s no judge who’s going to award our client a judgment because he fucks himself with a hunk of rubber.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” After a beat, Sarah added, “He’s not shopping alone.”
Mandy set the pen down. “Well, you could’ve said that sooner. Male or female?”
“Female. Young. Hot. And dressed like a stripper.”
“Follow them.”
“Will do.” Giving a little giggle, Sarah signed off.
Mandy, not willing to take any chances that Sarah would lose Clark, grabbed her purse and keys, dashed outside, locked the door, and dove into her car. She got within a half mile of the sex-toy shop when her cell phone rang. She hit the receive button. “Sarah? Where are you?”
“I lost them.”
Mandy bit back an expletive. “Where’d you see them last?”
“On Ford, heading east.”
“There are at least a dozen motels on Ford. What were they driving?”
“A black car.”
“License plate?”
“I ... uh, didn’t get it.”
“Make? Model?”
“I dunno. I’m guessing domestic. Midsize ... ?”
Head slap
. “Did you get anything?”
. “Did you get anything?”
“A name.”
“Great, what’s the name?”
“Brittany.”
Another head slap. “Brittany? I’d be willing to bet there are hundreds of strippers named Brittany in this town alone.”
“Sorry. I did the best I could. They were tearing out of the parking lot by the time I got to my car. I was lucky to have followed them as long as I did.”
“Start hitting each hotel on the south side of the street. Do you have a picture of Clark with you?”
“No.”
“Okay. Scratch that. You go back to the office. I’ll hit the hotels, see if Clark checked in with his new friend.”
Sarah sighed. “I really did try.”
“I know.” Mandy smacked the turn signal and maneuvered into a dumpy parking lot next to one of the town’s seediest no-tell hotels. “Thanks, hon. I’ll see you later.”
“Bye.” Sarah sounded disappointed as she signed off.
Mandy instantly felt like crap.
She swung her car into a parking spot, threw the shifter into park, and cut the engine. She dug a picture of Clark out of her purse as she hurried up to the front desk.
Inside the depressing cinder-block structure, the lobby was dim and dank. The dingy front desk was empty. A thick wall of Plexiglas reached from the counter up to the ceiling, a small indentation in the counter allowing the exchange of cash between the hotel customer and the clerk.
Mandy hit the little bell sitting on the edge of the counter. A moment later, a tired-looking man with deep purple circles under his eyes and no more than a wisp of white hair covering his gleaming scalp tottered out of a door, taking his place behind the counter.
“Yeah?” he said, looking over her shoulder.
She glanced behind herself, then at him. “Hi, I’m looking for someone.” She slid the picture down the trench in the counter, the back of her hand scraping against the bottom of the thick Plexiglas.
He didn’t pick up the photo. “Yeah? So?”
“Did this man check into this hotel?”
“Are you a cop?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t hafta tell you nothin’.”
Cursing under her breath, Mandy dug into her wallet, extracted a five, and shoved that into the trench, too.
The guy gave her a what-the-hell-is-that look.
She added another five.
He raked the cash into his fist, picked up the picture, took a quick look. “Nope.” He shoved it back under the safety glass. “Good luck.” The money disappeared into his pocket.
“Thanks.” Knowing she’d need more than luck, Mandy headed back out to her car. If she had to give every hotel clerk on this street ten dollars to answer one question, she’d burn through at least a hundred dollars.
Deciding she’d try a few more, she started her car. Maybe for once, Lady Luck would be smiling down at her.
So much for Lady Luck. The bitch.
Figuring all hope was lost, Mandy headed home to get dressed. As she wiggled her ass into yet another tight skirt, she wondered whether it was even worth going to Twilight tonight. If Clark had enjoyed his romp with the stripper this afternoon, would he be in the mood for another sexual escapade tonight? He might be worn out.
Then again, he might be a sex addict, looking for his next score.
She supposed anything was possible.
Yanking down the creeping skirt so her ass cheeks didn’t hang out, she scampered to her closet for a pair of hooker heels. Then she tottered to the door, grabbed her purse and car keys, and headed out into the warm evening.
She was überconscious of the way she looked as she clacked down the walk to her car. If only her complex had attached garages! She spied Mrs. Wentworth in 2D staring out her front window. She figured she’d be reported as a hooker before her car had left the lot.
Sure enough, as she cranked the key, she caught sight of three other ladies from the Social Security set peering out their windows, too. It was official; her squeaky-clean reputation was in the toilet.
She turned on the stereo as she maneuvered the car out of the lot.
Screw them all. She was who and what she was, and what she did was none of their damn business.
She sang at the top of her lungs with the radio as she drove the short distance to Twilight. At traffic lights, she did some car seat dancing, too, to Lady Gaga. Upon arriving at the club, she parked the car and took a deep breath.
God, she was nervous. And she knew it wasn’t because of Clark.
Zane knew she’d be here.
Zane probably expected her to have a camera hidden on her.
But that wasn’t what was making her jittery. It was the thought of seeing him again. He wasn’t expecting an answer to his proposal yet. But she had a feeling he was going to do what he could to convince her to say yes. She knew from experience he could be a
very
convincing man.
very
convincing man.
After a quick makeup check, she wobbled up to the building and checked in. Tonight she was carrying a cigarette-lighter camera. She passed through security with no problem. If Zane had warned them, they hadn’t found the camera.
Inside, she circled around the perimeter of the main dungeon, giving her eyes time to adjust to the dim lighting. She recognized several faces but didn’t see Zane or Clark. She decided to take a stroll down the hallway leading to the private suites.
There. The tall guy in black. Was that Clark, heading into the last room on the left? Mandy hurried after him, hoping she’d catch him before he was closed inside. She was within reach when someone snagged her arm, jerking her around.
“Where are you headed in such a hurry?” someone asked. The voice was male but not familiar.
She twisted to look behind her. Didn’t recognize the face. But it was a very handsome one. His hair was dark brown, on the long side, wavy, sexy. His face was breathtakingly gorgeous. White teeth flashed brightly against his deeply tanned skin. He was big, almost as intimidating as Zane. He clamped a large hand around her upper arm. “Come with me.”
“Am I in trouble for something?” she asked, stumbling as he pulled her off balance.
Someone else caught her other arm and pulled in the opposite direction.
“She’s with me.”
Mandy knew that voice. Zane.
The other guy stopped walking, thank goodness. She wouldn’t be torn in two.
A highly charged stare-down followed.
“I said, she’s with me, Sorenson,” Zane repeated through gritted teeth.
Mandy was getting a little buzzed on the testosterone in the air. Either that or she was just übernervous her cover was about to be blown.
Sorenson released her. “Fine.”
She didn’t take a deep breath until he was out of sight.
Zane dragged her into the last room, the one she thought she’d seen Clark duck into, and shut the door. Sure enough, Clark was there, in the center of the room, kneeling, nude, and sporting a hard-on.
“Sorry for interrupting,” Mandy said, her gaze hopping from Clark to a tense-looking Zane and back again.
Zane didn’t speak right away.
“Who was that?”
“Rolf Sorenson. His brother runs Twilight. You need to stay away from him.”
“Oh.”
Zane extended a hand. “The camera.”
“If I give it to you, will you return it to me before I leave?”
He lifted his brows. “Of course.”
She squinted her eyes at him. “In
one piece
this time?”
one piece
this time?”
His lips quirked into a lopsided grin. “Only if you promise I won’t ever see it again.”
“You have a deal.” She extended a hand and shook on it. Then, when he gave her a meaningful look, she said, “We’re still talking about cameras, aren’t we?”
Still gripping her hand, he tipped his head. “Are we?”
“Yes. Cameras. Nothing else. Yet.”
“Very well.” He extended the hand that wasn’t holding hers.
She set the lighter camera in his palm.
He scrutinized it. “Very nice.” In his pocket it went.
“Yes. And
expensive,
” she grumbled.
expensive,
” she grumbled.
“I’ll keep my word if you’ll keep yours.” He patted his pants pocket, the motion drawing her eye down.
My, that was quite a bulge he had front and center. If he didn’t shove socks down his pants, he was very, very well endowed. Her imagination went wild for a brief moment, picturing Zane nude. It was a glorious picture.
Don’t go there. You’ll never be able to work for the man if you do
.
.
Too late.
She heard herself sigh. “I guess I’ll be going now.” There was no point sticking around to watch Clark scene with Zane. She had nothing to capture the proof. No camera. No video. And clearly Zane wasn’t going to let her bring a camera into any future sessions with Clark or with anyone else, for that matter.
Why did I even bother tonight?
Zane leaned in. He was close. Very. Normally that kind of crowding made her feel uncomfortable. But not with him. “My submissive had a special request tonight.”
“Oh, really?” She fingered her cheeks, which were getting warm.
“He’d like you to stay again.”
“I don’t know ... I mean, do you think it’s appropriate, considering you just offered me a job?”
“Hmmmm.” Zane nibbled on his lower lip. “You have a point. It probably wouldn’t be appropriate. You might assume I would expect this kind of thing from you all the time.”
“I might.”
“Which I wouldn’t, of course.”
“Of course.”
Zane narrowed his eyes. “I only mentioned it because I got the feeling you were interested in him.”
Damn, this man was sharp. Should she tell him the truth? Or shouldn’t she?
Don’t do it. Don’t tell him about the case.
“Okay, yes, I was—am—interested. As long as there isn’t any penetration.”
Don’t do it. Don’t tell him about the case.
“Okay, yes, I was—am—interested. As long as there isn’t any penetration.”
Something flashed in Zane’s eyes. Mandy couldn’t quite read it. “That’s what I thought. No penetration. Understood.” He placed his hand lightly on the small of her back. “Over here.” He set her in position, sitting on some kind of bench, facing Clark, who was still staring down at the floor. She noticed his shoulders rising ever so slightly and the color in his neck deepening as she waited for Zane to tell them what to do.
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