Layers Peeled (10 page)

The past few
days we’d been working on skeleton staff, and Tristan had said only
the contracted jobs would be fulfilled during the next three weeks.
Not that it was my department. After the incident at the nightclub,
Tristan made me swear I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize my
health and safety, especially since my weakened body still hadn’t
fully recovered. Working on sex trafficking cases not directly
affiliated with Cross Enterprises left me with a stack of files on
my desk I had difficulty seeing over. It seemed I was going to have
to leave Laura in a few weeks on her own to finish organizing and
prioritizing our work starting in the New Year. There were stings
to coordinate and girls who needed their Christmas wish to come
true.

It had been a
week since we broke the news of my pregnancy to our families. I was
grateful the morning sickness subsided. And now, I sat in my new
office and searched through files trying to decide if I could help
out one more girl or woman. I wanted that one other hopeless soul
to see hope before Christmas, but that seemed like a miracle of its
own.

As much as I
loved working so close to Tristan, I saw less of him than before.
It was as if we’d reached a comfortable routine of a married couple
who worked nine to five during the day and came home to see each
other afterwards. Okay, I had to admit the job came with the most
wonderful perks I could have imagined. Like locking ourselves in
his office for a quickie which lengthened each time I visited him.
We’d sneak into his bathroom, car, or the conference room. Each one
added a feeling of danger that caused my adrenaline and hormones to
surge.

Tristan had
suggested I take time off during my pregnancy. Our argument over me
working or not had lasted a full fifteen minutes and of course I
won. It wasn’t really an argument anyway; Tristan gave in as soon
as I made my puppy eyes, and I knew I’d found his weakness.

After all, how
could I leave the girls who suffered from oppression and
exploitation by themselves? With Tristan’s resources, we’d already
rescued over a dozen off the streets, allocating them to
rehabilitative clinics and placement programs. The more difficult
cases were the secret sales and pimps with influence. Those were
not only expensive – which Tristan said his company could afford –
but also dangerous to everyone we involved.

“You know, we
could solve these much quicker if we were out in the field
ourselves,” I said to Laura, peeking at her over the stack.
“Getting feedback in a staff meeting is just not the same.”

“I’m game, but
I’m not sure Mr. Cross would agree.” She looked at me from
underneath her lashes.

“It’s Tristan.
And I really think he’s being overprotective.” I flipped through a
file. Tristan had made it clear I was not to be out in the field,
at least not while pregnant; though I had yet to officially break
the news of my pregnancy to Laura.

“Do you know
why?” she asked. “He doesn’t seem like someone to stop you from
fieldwork.”

“I’m not the
only one he’s concerned about.” I felt my mouth stretch upward.

She looked at
me from under her lashes, carefully studying my face, and then
slowly said, “Now I know you’re not talking about me.”

“Nope.” I bit
my lip. “Someone quite a bit smaller than you.”

I saw the idea
of me being pregnant hit her in slow motion. Laura’s mouth opened
as she whispered, “Noh...”

I simply
nodded.

“You’re
preggo?” She pushed her chair back and rushed over to hug me. Laura
sat on the corner of my desk waiting for more details.

“It sort of
happened.” And that was my standard response.

“I sort of
suspected,” she admitted.

“I know, but I
had to tell the family first.”

“Oh, my god.
Now I really don’t know what to say.” She covered her heart with
her hand, obviously truly happy for me.

“Well, that’s
a first. So as you ponder how we’ll get out in the field with my
growing belly, why don’t you spill about James?”

“He’s
cool.”

“Just
cool?”

“Hey, I’m not
the one who got knocked up by Mr. Sexy.”

“No, but James
is the first guy you haven’t bragged about. What’s up with
that?”

“It’s
different with him. Every time we do it is better than... chocolate
cake.”

Laura loved
chocolate cake as much as I did.

“You mean to
say you’d had sex with him more than once?” I teased.

“Shut up. I
still can’t believe you’re going to have a little one spitting up
and throwing up on you.”

“I think it’s
the best thing that’s ever happened.”

“Well, from
the look on your face, it seems it definitely suits you. You’ll be
a great mother.”

Turning the
pages of a file, a familiar name caught my eye, and I narrowed my
brows. “I’d be just fine undercover instead of delegating cases,” I
muttered. “I’m not even showing yet.”

“It’s not
about you not showing, it’s about not getting into a situation
which could be too physical.” She leaned over my shoulder to get a
better look. “You have that look on your face,” she added as she
took the file from me.

“What look?” I
asked.

“The
‘something doesn’t add up’ look. She looks like you. Do you know
her?” She pointed to the mug shot. It was rare for us to have a
close-up photo of one of the victims. If they’d been taken in by
the police before, it was our lucky break. The girls didn’t know
it, but it was their lucky break as well. The police reports gave
us more information to work with.

“I’m not sure.
I may have seen her before. Where was she spotted?” I grabbed the
file again and took a closer look at the elongated face with a
pixie cut.

“Hunts
Point.”

The girl
reminded me of that night in Manhattan when I had gone undercover
for an auction where abducted women were being sold. Except that
Hunts Point was in the Bronx. I examined the photograph. The
innocent face I remembered had aged. Her high cheeks were sunken
in, and her hair no longer extended beyond her shoulders. And I’d
seen her only a few weeks ago. She was assaulted in front of my
eyes, and there was nothing I could have done to save her. She was
forced to climax in front of others, stripped not only of dignity
but humanity. All her will taken away within minutes. The girl
who’d stood beside me that evening, the one whose looks could pass
for those of my younger sister, shouldn’t have endured all the
pain. Perhaps that’s why she seemed so important to me. Her
resemblance tugged at my heart, and I felt a connection with her I
hadn’t with any of the other girls we’d rescued. That wasn’t good.
Getting personally involved with one of the victims could cloud my
mind. I wouldn’t be able to focus—perhaps even make mistakes I
couldn’t afford.

“She was sold
that night,” I said.

The memory of
the cigar-filled room left a bitter taste in my mouth. Nausea
swirled in my stomach, slowly making its way up my body. The smell
of sweat, alcohol, and masturbating men who’d watched others
assault women returned. I didn’t think I could ever get over that
night, and I’d often dreamt about the women who had no hope or
faith that someone could help them. That same night we’d saved
Kendra, Tristan’s ex, from a life of prostitution. After the
auction, I was shot, and lady luck by the name of Kendra happened
to come back for me. As much as I didn’t like thinking about it,
because I knew she’d damaged Tristan when they had a history
together, I owed her my life. But she wasn’t herself back then. She
had been stoned out of her mind.

“We need to
find this Marissa.”

“All the leads
in the file show she’s working the streets, and the only way to
find out more would be to go out.”

I felt like
someone jabbed me with adrenaline right in the heart. Going out to
work sounded so good. I had to find a way for Tristan to agree.

“Tomorrow
night, then?” I felt my mouth curve up.

“Mr. Sexy will
never let you do that.” Laura eyed me from the bottom up and then
said, “And just how are you going to sway him?”

“You just
leave the convincing to me. It’s time to use the gifts God gave me
to my advantage.” I lifted my bosom, so grateful for the one ample
endowment I had.

The trap was
set. No man could deny a naked woman in his kitchen, could he?
Well, not totally naked. I was wearing an apron that said
Always
Served Hot
. Now that the cool draft flew through the kitchen, I
wondered whether it had been a good idea to pick this room. Tristan
must have closed the window upstairs.

Tristan’s soft
steps of naked feet on a wooden surface approached. Every step I
heard spiked my heart rate. I felt my nipples harden and the tight
excitement surge deep into my belly so I dimmed the lights and
leaned against the kitchen island, ready to serve my man.

“You’re up to
something.” Tristan strolled toward me. The look on his face when
he saw me scooping chocolate ice cream into two bowls said it all.
He had ripped the apron off me in his mind the moment he saw
me.

The sun had
set and Tristan had just taken a shower, getting ready for bed. I’d
left him a note on the nightstand asking him to join me for a late
snack. And now he was probably wondering whether the snack was the
ice cream or me.

Seeing him
there, in nothing else but his silky pajama bottoms that hung just
below his hips, shot an urge of desperation to my groin. The
exposed triangle leading down to his waistband looked more
appetizing than the dessert I’d prepared. It would take every
little ounce of restraint I hoped I had to resist him. I had to
tempt him first. Hook Tristan and reel him in slowly with the most
delicious bait I could imagine: myself. I’d only spent a few
seconds ogling him and already couldn’t wait to feel him between my
legs. I wondered whether I’d end up begging him to ease my
deepening ache before I got a chance to ask him the favor.

“Why would you
say that?” I fluttered my lashes in innocence.

“Because you
look like a temptress from hell in that outfit.”

“Is that a way
to talk to the mother of your unborn child?” I turned around to put
the tub of ice cream back in the freezer, bending over to give him
a full view of my exposed backside, and then leaned a bit more
forward for good measure. If he could only get a look at my wet
slit I was sure he’d be gone. The quick inhale I heard confirmed my
suspicions: he wouldn’t be able to resist me for long.

“Are you
trying to seduce me, Ms. Green?” he asked, as if I were Mrs.
Robinson.

“Is it
working?”

“Hell yeah.
Come here.”

“Not so fast,
Mr. Cross,” I stood up and turned around, taking away his view of
my ass. “The ice cream will melt.” I lifted the spoon to my mouth,
licking it clean, sucking on it harder than needed. That little
pulse underneath Tristan’s bottoms began distracting me. The curve
became more defined with my every taunt, and he would soon run out
of space under there.

“The only
thing that will melt tonight is you underneath me.”

I pretended to
pay no attention to him, even if my juices were ready to welcome
his fingers, tongue, and cock; not all at once, of course. I opened
the fridge and reached for the whipped cream. Shaking the can in a
motion that inspired another flex under his pants, I pointed the
nozzle down and swirled an artful mass on top of the ice cream.
Once done I lifted the creamed tip to my lips and licked the excess
off.

Tristan
growled.“You’re a bad girl.”

“Thank you for
the compliment. Cherry?” I centered a single fully ripe fruit on
top of the cream, and then took an extra one between my teeth and
bit it with my mouth open. The crunch echoed in the kitchen. A drop
of juice collected in the corner of my mouth but I didn’t lick it
away. Instead I braced my backside against the cupboard, thankful I
missed the stainless steel dishwasher. I wouldn’t want my butt
print on the appliance. The coolness of the door against my heated
skin felt welcome. I leaned my elbows on the counter as casually as
possible, which made the curves of my breasts spill further out the
sides of my apron.

Tristan took
another step toward me, his intention clear from the way he moved;
in fact, he was now fully tenting out from underneath his pajamas.
He didn’t bother to wipe the cherry juice off my mouth as I’d
expected. Instead, he lowered his mouth to mine and licked it right
off. The gesture sent an army of flavorful tingles through my whole
body. How in the world would I be able to keep this up? I was
beginning to doubt my ability to sway him the way I’d planned,
because now all I wanted to do was spread my legs for him and
welcome him in with a bang or two.

But Tristan
had more strength for a man in need than I expected. “The cherry
tastes scrumptious, but I can think of an even more delicious one.”
His hand slid under the apron. For a moment I thought he’d reach
right for my cherry, but he slid his palm along my hip to the back,
squeezing between me and the counter, and untied the apron.

“Wouldn’t want
the ice cream to drip on your beautiful apron,” he teased.

My heart
pounded and my breathing stilled. The innocent touch of his fingers
was like magic.

He reached up
to my neck and unfastened the ties there as well. The fabric
dropped to the floor and I stood in front of him, naked and hot and
at his mercy. He braced his hands on the counter, one at each side
of my hips. His rigid cock poked my belly through the fabric, and I
felt my knees soften.

“I will ask
again, and only once. What is it that I can do for you, Allie?”

Truthfully, my
whole plan had just gone up in flames. I had set the flicker when I
prepared for this evening, but Tristan had added gasoline the
moment he stepped into the kitchen. The burning effect dripped on
the inside of my leg. What was it that I wanted to ask him? Why the
charade?