Layers Deep Page 10

  “The sounds that came out of your mouth sounded pretty honest to me.”

  He was as good an observer as he was a giver.

  “I don’t want to jeopardize my job,” I said.

  “Aha, sleeping with the boss. Right? I think we’re beyond that, don’t you? From now on, you can’t think about me as your boss. I’m your partner, and you’re mine. Your life depends on me, and mine depends on you,” he said in a funny voice.

  I did depend on him the way he said I should. Even if I didn’t want to, I couldn’t deny I depended on Tristan for everything now, including my family’s safety.

  “Come.” He took my hand and led me through the hall into the living room and the kitchen. Now that I had my mind back on, not filled with all his sexiness, I could appreciate the luxury of his home. I didn’t remember any of it from last night.

  White and brown tones contrasted the light furniture against the dark walls. The home’s open concept gave the illusion of more space than there was – not that it was small. In fact, the living room alone was larger than my entire apartment. Decorative sheers hung down to the ground, fluttering in the air-conditioned breeze. The sun blazed through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Beyond was a breathtaking view of Central Park, seemingly its full length and width, and Tristan’s penthouse smack in the middle. This place must have cost a fortune.

  “If there’s a way to impress a girl, I think this is it.” I stared out the window.

  “I’m glad you like it, because this is where you’ll live now.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, I may have forgotten to mention that part of the job.”

  “Conveniently enough.” But I didn’t mind. Oddly, I felt at home here. “I’m assuming this would be a temporary perk of the job?”

  “We’ll see,” he shrugged. “Coffee?”

  “Yes, please. If I’m going to work for you, I need to send in my resignation from the force.”

  “Didn’t I say you’ve been hired already?” He pressed a button on the elegant machine which began grounding fresh beans.

  “But...”

  “It’s all taken care of, Allie. You’re on payroll as of” – he looked at his watch – “now. I wouldn’t want you to think you were on payroll last night, and this morning,” he grinned.

  “Are you forgetting the two thousand dollars you gave me?”

  “You can keep the change.”

  I was glad I wasn’t drinking the coffee just yet, because I would have spat it out. “So about last night...” I started.

  “Don’t overthink it, Allie. We’re two consenting adults having a good time,” he said nonchalantly.

  “Good. I wouldn’t want you to think I slept with you to get the job.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way, because I wouldn’t mind if we consented to good fucking once in a while, would you?”

  Cross’s bluntness and dirty mouth rekindled a swirling desire deep in my belly.

  How could I say no to that?! It wasn’t exactly my style to have sex with a man I barely knew, but Cross Enterprises was trustworthy and so was Tristan—that much I could read from a person. And the way he spoke revived the ache between my legs every time.

  “But I’m already hired.”

  “The difference is, for this position you need to know me and trust me beyond what your mind will tell you, Allie. And if I say you need to fuck me, then you need to fuck me as if your life depended on it. Besides, I’m the boss.”

  “Well, Mr. Boss, Sir, that’s the only way I fuck.”

  “Well, then, I guess I hired the right girl, didn’t I?”

  We both burst out laughing.

  “Seriously, Allie. I wouldn’t want you to think that’s why I hired you.”

  “I don’t. And I thoroughly enjoyed last night. And this morning, for that matter.”

  “Me too. It was... ...special.” His soft tone surprised me.

  Cross was the first person with whom I could let my guard down when intimate. He could have called it fucking, shagging, banging, or anything else he wanted, but I knew what last night meant to both of us. A perfect fit, both physically and emotionally, was rare to find. And we fit like a fish in the ocean.

  “So, why don’t you give me some details on this job?”

  “You’ll live with me now, and we’ll rehearse the auction day. You’ll change the way you breathe, walk, and talk. All your expenses will be paid. If that’s all right with you?”

  For the first time, Tristan was asking me how I felt about the job, and I appreciated that.

  “Yes, that’s fine.”

  Tristan slid his cell on the counter and punched in a few numbers, mumbling under his breath. “36 C...”, then he looked me over as if I was an item in a grocery store.

  “30, 36, 8.5,” he continued.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, intrigued.

  “Unless you want to wear my shirt and pants, or that fucking hot outfit you wore last night, out in public, I’m getting you some clothes.”

  “On the phone?”

  “One of the perks,” he shrugged.

  “And where in the public are we going out to?” I asked.

  “My parents’ house for brunch.”

  I gasped.

  CHAPTER 10

  The scent of a chocolate-vanilla brew wafted toward my nose.

  “Is this part of the job?” I narrowed my brows.

  “No, but I’m sure you’d like to visit your mom. I need you not to be worrying about anything, Allie, besides the job. And you won’t focus unless you see her and relax for the afternoon. And there’s some business we can take care of as well.”

  Everything inside me melted into one big puddle of you’re so caring. Mr. Impossibly Hot could not only make me swoon in bed, but also in his kitchen. I rushed around the marble counter and threw my arms around his neck.

  “Thank you, Tristan,” I whispered, taking his face between my palms and kissing him.

  “You’re welcome. When we return you will have a new wardrobe, be on a twenty-four-seven schedule, and always at my disposal.” Both his brows rose suggestively.

  “Okay, not that I mind being at your disposal,” – I hooked my finger into his sweats – “but new wardrobe? What’s wrong with my old one?”

  “The people we’ll be dealing with cater to the wealthy and disturbed. Some things you’ll be wearing just aren’t available at a regular store. Besides, I like doing things for you, and I don’t want you to go home.”

  He pulled out a stool from under the counter and motioned for me to sit. I watched Tristan move around the kitchen like a pro, and for a moment I thought he’d missed his calling. The fridge, three times the size of the one I had in my apartment, held stacked containers, nicely labeled and dated.

  He opened a drawer with vegetables, pulling out red peppers, sweet onions, and cheese. Tristan balanced on one foot, holding the door partially open while bending awkwardly toward the counter to set the ingredients aside, and then went back in to gather eggs and milk.

  “I hardly get the time to cook.”

  “Looks like it’s something you enjoy.”

  A quiet beep sounded from the coffee machine as the last drops trickled into the pot. He finally let the fridge go. It shut closed, sucking around the seal. Tristan poured two cups of coffee and set them on the counter. I poured the milk in and sipped. There was nothing better than the first sip of morning coffee. Okay, perhaps there was, and Tristan had proved it last night and this morning, but that first sip came pretty damn close.

  He shuffled his bare feet toward me and pulled out a paper from a drawer. “We may as well do the paperwork here. Read it over and sign.”

  “You had an extra copy in your kitchen drawer?”

  A smug grin stretched across his face. “I like to be prepared.”

  I sat at the kitchen counter looking over the agreement. The coffee tasted delicious this morning, but perhaps it was my company.

  “No sexual harassment cl
ause?” I asked.

  “No. I can harass you anytime I want. Will that be a problem?”

  The only problem I could see was my heart shattered to pieces. How would I tell whether his actions were to harass and stimulate me, or part of the act?

  “No problem,” I said, lowering my gaze back to the agreement.

  Tristan pulled out a stool to sit beside me. My knees pressed together as he shifted my body, the stool resisting against the tiled floor. His legs spread apart and hugged the sides of mine. He took my hands into his and his face became as serious as I’d seen it yet. His hazels darkened and their depth hid gruesome secrets I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear.

  “Allie, the job will be dangerous.” He wrapped his arms around me. I leaned forward and glued my face to his naked chest.

  “I understand,” I said against his skin. “And I’m not afraid, Tristan.”

  He took a long breath in and slowly released it, my head rising and falling along with his inhale.

  “You should be. A bit of fear is good for everyone. It’ll keep you on guard. The dogs we’ll be dealing with can smell a scam from a mile away. And the girl you’ll be posing as needs to be afraid of what’s waiting for her. Here.”

  I looked up to the counter where Tristan clicked his phone. He swiped his finger across the screen a few times before stopping on a photo of a beautiful girl. Late afternoon sun lightened the side of her bronzed face as she held her arm up to remove her blowing auburn hair from the view. The photo was carefree: a snapshot of a stolen moment in life. Gosh, she could have been a model. I thought I’d seen a picture of her somewhere before; perhaps when I’d googled Tristan? Yes, that’s where I’d remembered her from. And at that moment I’d realized this job Tristan hired me for was more than just another case. It was personal.

  “This is Kendra. We need to find her.”

  “She’s gorgeous.”

  He reached to the same drawer he’d stored the agreement in, pulled out a file folder, and handed it to me.

  I flipped through the papers, scanning every page, making mental notes of some details and the fact that I’d study these until my brain bled. The pieces of information brought back the cop in me. A small rush of adrenaline flowed through my veins, and my mind began its intricate work. I’d need to look over the details a bit longer, but for now, some words stood out more than others, and I cringed. Kendra was a sex slave, and she was about to become the commodity of one man who would sell her over and over again.

  “She’s been missing for three weeks now, and it’s possible she looks different. My sources tell me she’s still alive. She’ll be sold at one of the auctions.”

  The sorrow revived lines of pain on Tristan’s face. It shattered my heart to see him like that. I touched his chest. His heart beat in an aching rhythm as if he blamed himself for her disappearance.

  “I understand.”

  “These auctions are an underground operation. It’s taken our whole unit to break through. The girls you’ll see are sold to perverted and wealthy men. They’re not only pimped every night before then, but once they’ve gone through the clientele, they’re sold to a cartel like cattle. Our intel says Kendra will be sold off privately at one of the auctions. If she is, depending on who buys her, we may lose her for good – and I can’t take that chance. Once you recognize her, you’ll give me a sign and we’ll get her out.” The tension in his cheeks was nothing like I’d seen before, on anyone.

  “You’ll be there too?”

  “I’ll be nearby. We’ll work out the details. Don’t worry. You can bet I’ll have a pulse on what’s going on, as if I was under your skin.”

  The mysterious look on his face surprised me. What could he mean by that?

  “If these bastards get spooked, they’ll change the location. It can take months to infiltrate their circle. We’ve been lucky to get some help from another private sector specializing in sex trafficking.”

  Tristan’s face clouded with disgust. I imagined what the girls had gone through; I’d certainly seen enough during my short time at the force. There were streets in the city lined with minors. Women of all shapes and sizes filled dark alleys. Most prostitutes didn’t think there was another way to make money. They had no way out; at least they thought so. Their pimps would threaten the women if information was disclosed or if they didn’t bring in enough money. Most of what they earned would be taken away. But what Tristan was talking about was much worse: a cross between slavery and prostitution, sex trafficking was a beast of its own.

  “And if everything goes well, you’re welcome to go back to the force; but I’d much prefer if you stayed as part of the Cross team. It’s rare for an employee of ours to leave, but we never keep anyone back.”

  I didn’t think it would be possible now for me to work for anyone other than Tristan Cross. Not only had his company offered a dream job, but Tristan was there too. Which scared me a little. This thing between us was probably a temporary fling; a way to relieve our desires and extinguish the sexual tension. Simple girls like me didn’t get to have a forever man like Tristan Cross, did they? How could I work for Tristan once we had rescued Kendra? I couldn’t just keep sleeping with the boss. Once the job was done, we were done, and I’d doubtless get an assignment much lower on the corporate ladder to keep our distance.

  “If everything goes well?”

  “There’s a possibility you’ll be in witness protection if we don’t get Martinez.”

  Shit! That, I hadn’t counted on.

  “But I’ll make sure you’re well compensated if that happens.”

  I sat up with my back straight. What that meant was no more work either in the force or as an undercover investigator. My career would be finished. And, no more Tristan Cross. That was part of the deal.

  “And I can assume you have a team ready to capture Martinez?”

  “Yes.” His mouth curved up by a fraction. “See, that’s why you’re so perfect for this job, Allie. You’re always one step ahead.”

  A firm knock on the front door startled me.

  “Aha!” Tristan jumped off the stool and rushed through the hall to the door.

  “You don’t ask who it is?”

  “I already know who it is. No one comes here unannounced.” He opened the door wide, grinning.

  “Set it all in the living room.”

  An entourage of more than twenty people marched into the penthouse. I crossed my arms at my front, feeling as awkward as that person about to make a speech who pictures the audience naked, perhaps in their socks: except they’re really naked. I tightened my bathrobe belt while the crew paraded in, one after another. They set the boxes and bags they’d carried by the couch in the main living room beside the kitchen. Two men pushed a cart with a bar holding hangers of clothes, all nicely concealed under white covers. No one looked my way, concentrating on the job at hand.

  Like a row of working ants, they followed one another out and disappeared behind the door.

  “Is someone moving in?” I asked, biting my lip.

  “You. Got you some clothes. I hope you don’t mind. This way you don’t need to go back to your apartment. In fact, I’d appreciate it if you stayed with me here.”

  “You really want me to move in, don’t you?” I couldn’t help but feel giddy all over again, like a stupid school girl.

  CHAPTER 11

  The driveway weaved three curves past the main gate. Oak trees lined the way on each side of the paved entrance, the width of each one spanning more than six arm-lengths. Surveillance cameras marked every lamp post. I rolled down the window just a little. The terrain was neatly kept with landscaping groomed better than the best golf courses I’d seen. A ride-on mower was parked just off the garage. Warm wind tussled my hair, and the smell of fresh grass mixed with a fragrant bouquet of over-bloomed roses filled the car. It was the same smell I’d imagined on Tristan when he’d first walked into Mike’s bar.

  As soon as Tristan parked the Bentley, two Rottweilers ran
out from behind the garage toward the car, sat down in front of the hood, and waited patiently. Their tongues stuck out, fresh slobber dripping down to the ground. Tristan opened the door and stepped out with confidence—I remained seated, wearing my comfortable, un-ripped jeans and shirt, focused completely on the dogs.

  If there was anything I knew about dogs from my work, it was that you couldn’t trust them unless you knew them.

  “They’re friendly,” Tristan said.

  Or unless someone you trust tells you they’re friendly.

  Both dogs wagged their tails, sending dust up in the air. I opened the door and Tristan lost their attention. Besides, they’d already gotten a chance to slobber all over him.

  “Pebbles, Bamm-Bamm, sit,” he ordered.

  “Seriously?” I walked around the car to his side. The dogs waited for Tristan’s next instruction, their tongues hanging at the side of their mouths.

  He scratched behind their ears, one hand on each. “My little sister named them. It was a deal so we could get the Rotties instead of poodles.”

  I stepped closer, stretching my hand out front. Both looked to Tristan first, then approached, sniffed my palm, and licked it. Their smooth tongues tickled and reminded me of when Millie, our chocolate Lab, had knocked me down to the ground after school and licked my face. I wished Mom hadn’t given her away to a neighbor before we moved. I cried a lot that year.

  I crouched lower. That was a mistake. Pebbles and Bamm-Bamm became too friendly. One pushed its nose right in between my legs and the other one walked behind me, jumped on my back, and humped away. Why was it that dogs always went for the crotch sniffing, or to your leg to hump? Except at this moment I’d prefer the leg over my back.

  Tristan stood there laughing. If he crossed his legs like a girl needing to pee I’d have to rethink our partnership. And, he seemed in no hurry to help me. I made a mental note of his lack of concern for animals taking advantage of me to time my perfect revenge.

  “Pebbles, Bamm-Bamm, get off!” A young girl’s voice called to my new body snatchers.