Bait: A dark erotic thriller (Hunter & Prey Book 2) Read online

  I deliberately glanced at Darren as I replied. “It wasn’t all work. Part of tonight’s entertainment was all pleasure.”

  When I looked back to Alison, her face was still that pleasant mask, but Ray seemed to have a really hard time reining his mirth in. Daliah was the only one who seemed unsure what to make of me.

  “Are you here to recruit someone?” she asked.

  So far, I’d ignored her—which wasn’t hard, half-hidden behind Darren as she was, as if he'd tried to make her disappear—but at her question everyone looked at her, Alison with plain amusement on her face, Ray’s smirk finally breaking through. Daliah seemed to realize that she had said something stupid, a hint of a frown appearing on her flawless forehead. “Didn’t you say that you work in human relations?”

  Alison’s laugh was delightfully unladylike, making a few heads turn, but only until they saw who had committed that faux pas. I envied that power and reputation. I could only allow myself a somewhat belligerent smile.

  “I’m not a headhunter,” I offered, my eyes flitting to Darren for a moment. “Why don’t you ask your fiancé what I am? He’s intimately familiar with the answer to that question.”

  I expected Darren to be angry at me now, but, if anything, the only emotion on his face was a certain note of disappointment—as if he’d thought me above such a cheap jab. I continued to smile, but let it soften until it held a note of appeasement. Still, my annoyance could easily have been explained away as simple jealousy, so I made no move to tide things over completely. Let him make of that what he wished.

  Daliah might not have gotten the hint last time, but something definitely tipped her off now. The way she tightened her grip on Darren’s arm was comically childish, and her glare could have used some practice, too.

  “I think I’d like some more of that champagne now,” she said, tugging, and with a bemused smile on his face Darren let her steer him away. He didn’t look back, but then he didn’t need to—his touch still lingered on me, and no amount of turning away could change that. I had to force myself not to stare after them, but considering Alison wasn’t a woman easily ignored, it wasn’t that hard to transfer my attention to her. The fact that she seemed to see right through me rankled, but the bemused look on her face surprised me; I’d expected scorn, or maybe even an outright scowl.

  Still, I had no intention of overstaying my welcome.

  “Well, it was delightful to see you all here,” I said, starting to make my exit, but Alison followed me after I’d bidden the others a nice evening. Much to my surprise, she held out her business card to me.

  “Why don’t you come by my office? Soon, if possible. I usually keep my mornings free.”

  Pursing my lips, I took the card, holding her gaze evenly. “Any time you want to see me. You are the kind of woman I clear my schedule for.” Not that there was much to clear, except for Sundays, but she didn’t need to know that.

  “Why, how about Friday, 7 a.m.? I believe in being the first in the office. Except for my secretary, of course. Who would make me coffee otherwise?”

  I inclined my head, smiling blandly. Who would indeed? “I’d be delighted to join you.”

  “Perfect,” she practically purred. “I likely didn’t say so expressively last time we met, but it’s great to have you in the city again.”

  With that she stepped away to rejoin her party, leaving me to look down at her card, wondering what this was about. When I turned it over, I saw that she had added her personal phone number by hand. Exactly what did Alison Moss want with me?

  I had a distinct feeling that, very soon, I would find out.

  Chapter 6

  My calm lasted about halfway through the ride home, but it wasn’t like I could let myself fall apart right there in the back of the black limousine. My heart was racing, and my fingers kept clawing into the folds of my skirt, likely ruining the fabric for good. I couldn’t find it in me to care. If I burned the dress this very second, it would still not be soon enough.

  At the Peninsula, I swept inside and straight to the elevator, not even capable of smiling at the page in attendance. The ride up took forever. As soon as the doors to my suite closed behind me, I dropped everything and tore off the dress, a first sob wrenching itself out of my chest as I staggered into the shower. I turned the spray on full—and as cold as it got—before I sank to the marble floor, my entire body shaking. Only my fist rammed between my teeth was enough to keep myself from screaming, and it took a good ten minutes until I even became aware of the fact that I was shaking from the cold. Forcing myself up, I turned the temperature to warm so I could wash my body, but soon that wasn’t enough. Not even scalding hot water was warm enough to make me feel clean as I tried to scrub not only the physical evidence of this evening away but also the memories—an impossible feat if there’d ever been one, of course. I still felt his touch on my body, could still smell his scent with every breath that I took. I ended up resembling a lobster as I staggered out of the shower, not giving a shit about what that had just done to my skin and hair.

  Shrugging on a fluffy bathrobe—and wincing as it touched my singed skin—I started to pace, not bothering with turning on the lights.

  Had I done the right thing? I forced myself to answer that with a “yes”—and it wasn’t like I’d had much of a choice, really. Not if I wanted to mime the alluring temptress. After everything he’d done to me, playing coy hadn’t been an option—not as he’d cut right to the chase.

  Had it been my plan? No, not exactly, but it wasn’t just convenience that had me skip the underwear tonight. Part of me—hidden deep down, nowhere close to being recognized—had played with the idea of outright seducing him, even if I didn’t want to acknowledge that. Although, as seductions went, I hadn’t really had much opportunity to dip deep into my repertoire, and it remained to be questioned who had seduced whom.

  Thinking back to how his hand had felt on my throat, a shudder ran through my body, making me keel over and retch, but I managed to swallow my bile back down. The memory was repulsive, enough to make me want to jump right back into the shower and continue to boil myself…

  But at the same time I felt my nipples harden and wetness appear between my legs, my body oh so ready for more. With a sinking feeling in my gut I realized that if he strode through my door now, I wouldn’t speak up in protest. And I wouldn’t just let him take me, no—I would jump his bones and fuck myself raw on him, until we’d both be too tired and spent to move.

  Not even the knowledge that he could have easily killed me tonight helped to dampen, let alone douse, those flames.

  Would I have tried to stop him? Tried to pull his fingers from around my throat if he'd tried to strangle me? Tried to hold on if he’d shoved me over that balustrade?

  Eight months ago the answer had been “yes” to everything—and I hadn’t even stopped at mangling myself. If I’d had the choice, I might have even sawed off my own limb to escape, like a wild animal caught in a trap would bite off his paw. Back then, seducing him had been a cold, calculated move—my only option to ram that sliver into his neck to try to end his life. Back then, things had been so easy—either fight to survive, or die.

  But now? Now I had options. Sure, they might be severely limited, and I had no illusions that if I tried to elude him, he would come after me with full force. Yet right now I was free. I could have not gone to the opera. I could have not gotten up in the middle of the show. I could have not maneuvered myself into a corner.

  I could have jumped, ending my life but leaving him not the cause for it.

  And it wasn’t like the terrace wrapping around half of my suite wasn’t tempting in its own way right this very second.

  Why didn’t I? Jump, that was. It would be a horrible yet quick end. Just one push, a few seconds to come to grips with my decision, and that would be the end. I would never have to be afraid. I would never have to be so disgusted with myself that it was impossible to breathe.

  I would never feel his
touch on my skin; his scent teasing my nose; his words undoing me.

  With a sick kind of fascination, I realized that it was as much my need for revenge that drove me on, as the hope to be that close to him again. And again. And again.

  That left me wondering—had I actually been intent on killing him the first time? I had to try to survive—but had I actually attempted to succeed? Or was it no coincidence that we’d both limped away from that night, leaving us to meet again another day?

  Ever since that night, I’d ignored finding an answer to that question. I hadn’t lied to Adam when I’d said that I needed to get away and disappear—forever. I had been careful, never making a mistake—and never leaving a trace. It would have been so easy to be careless—or to deliberately do something to tip Darren off. Access my accounts. Call one of my former acquaintances. Use my real social security number when applying for the next useless job. I hadn’t even been tempted, just afraid that, whatever I did, I would never be able to get away. I’d even started to hope that I could move on, accept this new life, pretend—for Adam’s sake—that I was feeling for him what I knew he wanted me to tell him.

  But all that had been a lie, I realized as I stared blindly at the lights of the city sprawling below me. A lie that I’d told Adam. A lie that I’d told myself, over and over again—but it had never fully sunk in.

  I’d been playing a role, mostly because it was expected of me, but also because, for a little while, I had to, or else I couldn’t have continued dragging myself on.

  But now my wounds were healed—at least those on the outside. Agent Smith had made it impossible for me to continue to run—and the fact that I was still alive proved that Darren’s number one goal wasn’t to end my life the second he could.

  So what game was he playing? He obviously still wanted me—tonight had sealed that deal. For whatever reason, he kept that girl around, though she clearly posed no obstacle for him.

  But if not to kill me now, what else did he have in mind? Drag me back into his basement to finish what he had started? I had a distinct feeling that the basement was empty now, not even a thread left to hint at what had been stored there for countless years. Or had the fact that I had gotten away—and almost killed him in the process—turned the tables? Could it be possible that now, for the first time ever, he actually saw me as his equal? A force to be reckoned with; danger lurking below, ready to lash out if he provoked me? Was that what had driven him to follow me out onto that balcony and rut like animals, in that life-affirming, mindless act of… acquiescence?

  In many ways, that thought was more terrifying than knowing that he was out to kill me.

  That I even considered it made something else crystal clear—it was about time that I dropped the pretense that this wasn’t the reason why I’d felt so very alive tonight.

  Disgusted I might be by my own allegiance—but there was still a thread of decency buried under all those mired, conflicting emotions.

  Snatching my purse from the floor, I got out my phone and dialed the number of a taxi service. Even though it was well past midnight by now, I got the confirmation that a car would pick me up in ten minutes in front of the hotel. Letting the robe drop onto the floor next to the gown, I stalked into my dressing room and pulled on a shirt and jeans, pretty much the only casual outfit I could find on short notice. Not bothering with makeup, I grabbed my purse and left—to cut loose the last remaining strings that still connected me to that scared, scarred little girl that had been in need of rescue.

  I wasn’t surprised that Adam was still awake—nor that he’d clearly been waiting for me. It still irked me that all my electronics were bugged, but that much I owed him—if I was dooming myself, at the very least I should get him out of this to do with his life as he pleased. It was eerie to step into the building that had been my home for almost the entire past decade, and the place of so many fond memories. It wasn’t completely untainted—for one, it had been the place where my flight had really started. For another, it was unlikely I would ever forget what Ray had done, even if I managed to smile into his face afterward. The knowledge that it had all been Darren’s plan to tear down my defenses just made me taste bile at the back of my tongue.

  Agent Smith and her team had been busy in the meantime, I realized, when Adam opened the door for me and I saw that the entire wall that had stood between our apartments was gone, turning the central, already open floor space into one huge room. I heard snoring from what used to be my bedroom—now obviously furnished again—and Adam wordlessly preceded me onto the terrace. Just like old times. I followed, swallowing the quip that he could at least have fired up the coffee machine.

  I wasn’t here to exchange pleasantries, so evoking pleasant memories wasn’t on the menu.

  The door closed behind us and I turned to face Adam, but before I could do more than open my mouth, he silenced me with a gentle finger against my lips. Our months together had done a lot to even out the emotional barriers between us—while we’d had sex a couple of times before all this had gone down, we’d never been truly intimate. Unlike with my other clients, I’d always been kind of myself with him—no need to pretend when it was just the whore and the hacker enjoying coffee together, so why switch things up when things got physical? But there’d never been any casual touching. He’d never made a move to engage in behavior like that, and I’d been careful to keep my distance. Casual sex with your friend who just so happens to be an escort? Uncomplicated fun that came with the perks of her being a pro at pretty much everything you could ever imagine. But dating a whore? That’s not something most men could stomach.

  Or any, really, I corrected myself. What acceptance Darren had shown in the beginning had obviously been just to lull me into complacency, so he could better manipulate me into burning all those bridges myself.

  After Darren, I’d needed that intimacy that I’d never allowed to exist between Adam and me. I’d needed him, plain and simple. A warm body next to me in those nights where every creak made me jump and scream; the assuring weight that made me feel safe and comforted, even if I’d known it was all superficial and lies. A friend—another human being—in the same boat with me.

  But never what he wanted me to be—a lover, or a loved one.

  And now that he looked deep into my eyes, his face illuminated by the lights spilling out onto the terrace, I saw the acknowledgment of all that sinking in. He’d probably always known it—but now it was impossible to ignore any longer.

  Adam exhaled slowly as he removed his hand, using it to rake his fingers through his hair in a gesture of utter frustration.

  “Anything you want to report to the suits? Because Eva’s really not happy with your utter lack of progress.”

  “Eva?” I asked dryly.

  He gave a noncommittal grunt. “If you live together with someone long enough, it’s hard to keep your guard up.”

  Ouch—but I definitely deserved that one. And everything else that I knew was still waiting for me.

  “Good plans need time to be set in motion,” I reminded him, but forced my scorn down. “I’m ready to take over business from Brigitte, both in name and deed. As you already know, no doubt, we went to the opera together. Kind of my twisted presentation to society, if you want to call it that. I have an appointment Friday morning with Alison Moss. I don’t know what she wants with me, but she was a lot more welcoming than I’d expected. My guess is that she’s looking for some discreet contacts for clients of hers. The fact that there’s no lawsuit whatsoever filed against her darling Darren must be proof enough for her that she can trust me.” I paused, but then spilled the rest, too. “I also met him. And he’s definitely still interested in me. So, actually, the plan is already in motion.”

  Adam stared at me blankly, making me wonder if my words had even registered.

  “Did you fuck him?”

  The question surprised me only so much, as did the hard, gravelly tone of his voice.

  “That’s none—“


  “Did. You. Fuck. Him?” he asked again, louder now.

  There was no sense in denying it—and it wasn’t like anything but instant protest wouldn’t have already served as an answer—but it hurt that I couldn’t let him down gently.

  “Yes.”

  I expected him to cringe away, but the acceptance on his face was like a punch in my gut.

  “You’re not even denying it,” he rasped out, swallowing hard.

  “I owe you—“

  “You owe me nothing,” he shouted, his temper rising. “I mean, what did I expect? You’re a whore. Of course you do what whores do. They fuck, even the men who legitimately tried to kill them.”

  I felt my spine go rigid but forced my body to remain as relaxed as possible, which wasn’t saying much.

  “We both know that it was going to happen sooner or later,” I offered, not quite defending myself. “And as it helps with the plan—“

  “What fucking plan, Penelope?” Adam ground out. “We both know that there is no plan. The only reason why you’re back here is because you’re too stupid to save yourself. Because you still want him. Still need him. Because you’re still in love—“

  He cut off there and turned away, his shoulders rising in what looked awfully like a suppressed sob. It hurt me to see Adam in so much pain, but really, there was no way to alleviate his anguish now. The only thing I could do was make sure that it wouldn’t go on for much longer.

  “I told you,” I started, reaching for his arm but he shook me off, not even turning to face me. “I tried. Adam, I really tried. And I know how fucked up this is. How fucked up I am. But there never was anything but friendship and respect between us, and there never will be—“

  “Respect? What do you know of respect?” he asked, whipping around, glaring at me. “You don’t even have an ounce of self-respect. How would you know how to respect someone else?”

  That wasn’t fair, but I didn’t speak up to deny his claim.