Blaze paced SHADO’s command center, snarling at any unfortunate SOB who looked at him sideways. “I thought you said the fucking helicopter had tracking on it,” he shouted, jabbing a finger at Michael’s chest.
“It does, but they must be jamming the goddamned signal,” his boss replied, batting his hand away.
“So fix it.”
“It’s not that simple, and you know it! We’re working on solving the problem, Kelly, so just calm the hell down.”
“Work on it faster.”
A roomful of top agents, including Bastian, watched the two of them square off toe to toe, in each other’s faces. Blaze knew he was out of line, making a spectacle of himself, but he was so scared for Emma he couldn’t think straight. Nothing mattered but bringing her home safe and sound in his arms. Whatever he could do to speed up the process, he was all over it.
“We’re working as fast as we can to unscramble the signal,” Michael said evenly, clasping his shoulder. “Until then, there’s nothing you can do. Go home, Blaze. Get some rest. You’re going to need it when we locate them.”
“I need to be here—”
“Go. Home.”
He took a deep breath. Let it out. His boss’s tone brooked no further argument. He rarely used it on Blaze, which meant he’d become more of a hindrance than a help. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Promise you’ll call me if you find them before I come back in the morning.”
“You have my word.”
That wasn’t much reassurance, but it would have to do. He strode out, ignoring the stares boring into his back. Fuck them if they couldn’t understand how he felt, having his woman taken by public enemy number one.
Fuck them all.
Emma stared at herself in the full-length bathroom mirror, swallowing hard. She didn’t recognize the woman staring back, the one with dark, taut nipples showing through the sheer fabric of the black blouse. The palazzo pants hugged her waist and flowed down her long legs to her spiky shoes, and felt positively wicked without underwear between her pussy and the fabric.
Never in her life had she dared to dress like a high-dollar whore. She could never have imagined what set of circumstances could possibly drive her to it.
“Good God, what’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing that I can see.”
She jumped and whirled, hand on her heart, to find J.C. eyeing her like a starving man at his last supper. “Can’t you knock?”
“And miss watching you check out your lovely naked breasts? I’m no fool.”
She was painfully aware of the silky slide of the material on her erect nipples, and the knowledge that very soon, she’d be exposed to strangers. Her clit tingled and flushed with warmth, which filled her with confusion. How could she feel this way here, with this man she didn’t know?
“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said, gently taking her chin and forcing her to meet his gaze. “You are stunning and have nothing to be ashamed about. We’ll do what we must, what is expected, and you’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of that.”
His fingers brushed down her vulnerable throat, then on to skim one pert nipple ever so lightly. The simple touch sent little shocks dancing to her nerve endings, and she sucked in a breath. Let it out slowly. “Have you done this before, escorted the… guests?”
“A couple of times. My number was up for tonight, lucky me.”
“Only if we’re lucky enough to work inside. He likes for us to fit in so we don’t alarm his friends.”
“I can see that. Are you armed?”
He nodded. “Ankle holster. I’m never without a weapon.”
“I’ll bet,” she said, eyes dropping to his crotch and the impressive bulge there.
He laughed. “Come on. Let’s put in our appearance and play his game. Hopefully he’ll be pleased enough to allow you to return to your room.”
“That’s not much of an incentive, since I’m already sick of being cooped up in here.”
“It’s better than being out there, in his sight and on his mind.”
She couldn’t refute that. Composing herself, she went along quietly, determined not to outwardly react to whatever greeted them. She must be alert, take note of how to navigate the house. Night had fallen outside, and the corridors were lit with a soft glow, as were the stairs. In the foyer, J.C. guided her down another short hallway to a set of wide double doors, where several men and women entered ahead of them.
A burly man dressed similarly to her escort, who she supposed was another guard, nodded at him and waved them inside. They stepped in, and it was all she could do to maintain her calm facade.
The big living room was dimly lit. Soft, sexy music played in the background, barely heard above throaty laughter and murmured conversation. The men were dressed in leathers or nice pants and dress shirts, and every last one of the women was dressed much the same as Emma. Clearly, the females were to be put on display, their stunning beauty rivaling the opulent surroundings. They were every shape and size — blondes, brunettes, redheads. Tall and slim, short and round, athletic. Feminine, soft butch, and every flavor in between.
Some of their blouses were made of sheer material and were see-through like her own. Some tops were bustiers, so tight their breasts were practically spilling over the cups, nipples showing. A few wore short skirts, and Emma would bet her next month’s salary that not a one of them wore so much as a thong.
“Overwhelmed?”
She looked at J.C. and gave a slight nod. “Some. What’s expected of me now?”
“Just stick with me and follow my lead,” he said, keeping his voice low, for her ears only. “You’ll be all right.”
“That’s what General Custer said to his buddies,” she muttered. His chuckle wrapped around her, making her feel a bit better. For the moment.
He led her to the bar on the far side of the room, getting a beer for himself and a glass of red wine for her. Then she joined him in a cozy corner where three sofas formed a conversation area, a glass coffee table in the center. Two couples on the sofa across from them were engaged in serious flirtation, innuendo heavy.
Despite the sexual tension in the air, Emma had just started to relax when she spotted Dietz in the opposite corner, schmoozing three women who weren’t the least bit averse to showing the man a good time. One had an arm draped over his shoulder, her tongue in his ear. On his other side, another slid her hand up the inside of his thigh to his crotch, rubbing his zipper. A third sat on the floor between his knees, hanging on his every word.
“Unbelievable. Who is this guy, the Hugh Hefner of the terrorist world? And how did he throw together this party so fast, anyway?”
“Something like that. As for the party, it was already planned to celebrate his escape. Ignore him.”
“He has my fate in his hands, so that’s kind of impossible.”
“Not really. Look at me.” He set down his beer.
Sliding one arm around her, he cupped her jaw and slanted his mouth over hers. Took her lips in a hot kiss, tongue slipping between her lips. He tasted so good and smelled even better. Felt good, too, his hard body pressed into her side.
His hand trailed to the first button on her blouse, flicking it open with expertise.
“Wait. What are you doing?” Her pulse fluttered as his lashes lowered and he sent her a smoldering look. Nervous, she took a sip of her wine and placed it beside his beer.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, they’re way ahead of us.”
