Caught in the Act
“Really? It looks like such a fun party,” she said, though it was not her kind of thing at all. Gina much preferred a quiet dinner with friends.
“Yeah, I hate these things, but it’s part of the deal. Professional obligation. I hardly know half of those people out there,” he confessed, nuzzling her neck greedily. Her spine tingled, and though she’d just had—from what she could tell—the first really mind-blowing orgasm of her life, she wanted more. He could take her again, and that would be okay with her, she thought.
Just then, footsteps outside of the door, and voices with them, reminded her where they were. Had anyone been able to hear them? She laughed nervously when Mason’s chin hit the brim of her hat.
“Are you okay?” he asked, detecting something changed in her.
“Just realizing how late it is, and that it’s chilly. I really have to get going.”
“Why? You aren’t Cinderella, are you? Have to be home at midnight?”
He looked at her, his vampire makeup smudged off, probably all over her skin, his hair mussed from her hands, his sea-green eyes still warm.
“If you stay, we can go upstairs,” he offered with a smile, invitations and promises unspoken. His words were sincere, and didn’t make her feel uncomfortable. In truth, she’d love to spend the night with this incredible man. He was not what she expected. No ruthless arrogance or dominating attitude, he was more down-to-earth and still completely mind-blowing all at once.
“I’d really like you to stay,” he repeated.
The way he said it turned her nipples hard. Sorely tempted, because what she would miss by leaving would haunt her to her grave, she nonetheless shook her head, trying to sound casual.
“I can’t. I shouldn’t,” she responded, not sounding very convincing, even to her own ears.
His eyes darkened in a way that enthralled her. It was hard to look away, and she felt her resolve slipping. Maybe he was a bit of a vampire after all.
“You’re sure you won’t change your mind?” he asked in a husky tone. “I could make it worth your while.”
She was pretty sure all of her internal organs had just spontaneously combusted. Though she’d just had a great orgasm, she was achingly empty inside and craved only for him to fill her again. No man had ever said things like that to her, and it was so tempting … until she remembered why she was here. That would be somewhat difficult to explain if he found out who she really was.
“I’m sure you could, believe me. I’d love to stay, but I really can’t. I have to go. I have … other obligations.”
He frowned. “Such as?”
“Um, you know, family stuff.”
He froze. “You’re married? Children?” His eyes dropped to her left hand as he pulled on his pants and she struggled to get the bodysuit on over her damp skin.
“No! Would I do this with you if I were married?”
He looked at her directly and she saw a degree of weariness in his gaze. “People do this, and worse, with families.”
She thought of the pictures she’d found and admitted, sadly, that he was right. Being married was no guarantee of fidelity, though it should be.
Shame washed over her. Had she been any better? She might not be cheating on another lover, but she was certainly guilty of subterfuge. Stealing and lying, and having sex with him to throw him off the scent.
“I guess you’re right,” she said dispiritedly. She certainly had no room to be proud of herself, and she was still furious with Tracy.
“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, stepping close and peering at her with genuine concern in his eyes, which made her feel even worse.
“I’m fine, really.” She wanted to mean it, because he was a good guy, and if it weren’t for the circumstances that brought her here, this would be one of the best nights of her life. “Just tired.”
“Please, if you can’t stay now, come back. Spend an evening with me,” he pleaded, his voice lowering, his eyes holding hers. “No promises, no strings, I just want to get to know you. Do you want that?”
She started to say no, but then reconsidered. Gina wanted that so much she wasn’t sure what to say. If he knew who she really was, would he still ask?
But he didn’t know. Did she dare?
What if he found her out?
“I’d like that,” she heard herself say. “But only on one condition.”
“Name it,” he said, his eyes warm as they looked over her flushed features, landing hungrily on her mouth. She weighed her words carefully.
“We have one fantasy night. I can be anyone you want, but only for that one night,” she explained, hardly believing the words were coming from her. “But we can’t get to know each other. I want to be with you. To … sleep with you. But that’s all.”
Had she really just said that?
Never in her life had she propositioned a man for sheerly casual, anonymous sex, but this was perfect. She could let her wild side out, indulge herself and experience more of what she had tonight. She could take one night that was for her. She could be with a man she wanted, and who wanted her.
His jaw tightened. “I don’t know. As much as women think men dream of anonymous sex, why the mystery?”
She shrugged. “I have my reasons. If you want me, that’s the deal. We don’t share each other’s real lives. Just the fantasy.”
He watched her closely for several minutes, and then nodded. “Okay then. Just the fantasy. Tomorrow night? Meet me here at midnight?”
She smiled, happy beyond measure that he was willing to play along.
“Midnight is perfect,” she said, closing the door softly behind her and heading for her car, wondering if she’d really have the nerve to keep the date she promised.
3
MASON RAN LONGER AND HARDER along the gulf coastline than he normally did on his morning run, even though he’d hardly slept at all. The party had gone late, but the only person who interested him left early, after they’d had sex on his desk.
He’d tossed and turned, dozed off, awakened hard and frustrated. He had to wait another eighteen hours before he could work off the sexual energy his cabaret singer had ignited. Images of silky brown hair framing cocoa-colored eyes hazy with passion and cherry-red lips haunted him. She was everything he’d ever fantasized about … lush, sensual, uninhibited.
When he got her in his bed, he didn’t plan to let her up for air until he was done. He didn’t think she’d mind, remembering how hot she was under his hands and mouth. He could run from here to Georgia and not dim the need to have her.
Tonight, he promised to the morning sky.
Tonight he’d have her every way imaginable, and then they’d see what happened. Regardless of the silly deal they’d made, he fully intended to find out who his sexy vixen was, and to see more of her. One night was just the start.
Glancing at his watch, he sighed. Sixteen hours until their midnight date. What insanity had taken hold of him that he had said midnight instead of dinner? How was he supposed to sit at his desk, thinking about what they’d done the night before and focus on work?
He needed to put Amanda on the job of tracking his mystery singer down. It would be easy enough to find out who she was through the entertainment agency where they’d found her. If she was afraid that sleeping with him could get her in trouble with the agency or hurt her career, he’d make sure that wasn’t a problem.
If she wasn’t married, as she said she wasn’t, then he couldn’t imagine why she’d be worried, except for some kind of rules that dictated entertainers shouldn’t be having hot sex with their clients.
On their desks.
He could still taste her, the sweet strawberry tint of her lips, the honey of her kiss.
Sighing, he looked down and saw another boner tenting his sweatpants and started a hard run to lose it before he shocked someone on the beach.
His cell phone rang, distracting him. He slowed and dug into his pocket to retrieve it. Looking at the number, he saw Amanda’s ID.
“Morning, Amanda. Great party you put together last night.”
“Thanks. I love throwing your money around, but next year I hire a real party organizer.”
He laughed. “You always do a great job, and I appreciate it.”
“Nothing says appreciation like a big Christmas bonus,” she said drily.
Amanda had been with him for years, an executive assistant he’d known from law school who’d needed a new job when she’d had to move to the area to follow her husband’s work. He was thrilled to hire her and appreciated that she took on duties well past those of a normal legal secretary, like arranging his party.
“So true. Listen, do you know the name of the woman who sang last night?”
“Not offhand, no. She was a replacement for the singer they were supposed to send, so I’d have to find out.”
“Can you do that?”
“Sure. But first, I need you back here.”
Amanda sounded worried, and Mason frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“I was checking out the guy in those pictures you had Hal take, the ones of Tracy Alvarez and her lover?”
“Yeah. What came through? Do we know the guy?”
“Not really, but I’m not sure we want to.”
“What do you mean?”
“I couldn’t find anything, which is odd in itself. Everyone has some kind of records somewhere. So I asked my friend Janet, down in the federal building, and she connected him to the name Peter Dupree, and then
saw a Wanted file for him, for a murder in Barbados. She said that was all she could find, but suggested we turn the photos over to the FBI, pronto.”
Mason cursed, and looked out at the water. “Call Ron and the local FBI office.”
“Right on it.”
“I’ll be there soon. Thanks, Amanda.”
Mason double-timed it back to the house, quickly showering, dressing and grabbing what he needed. Jumping in his black convertible, Mason made the short drive to Tampa and pulled in to the office’s private lot about a half hour later. When he got upstairs, he was surprised to see Ron and Jace, two of the senior partners, and two other men with gray suits and neutral expressions whom he assumed were from the FBI offices down the street.
“Morning, Ron. Jace. I got here as quickly as I could.”
“Morning, Mason. This is Agent Kelly, FBI.”
“Thanks for coming,” Mason said.
“So what do you have for us, counselor?” the older agent, Kelly, asked.
Mason shook the agent’s hand and sat down. “I’m in the middle of a divorce case, Rio and Tracy Alvarez, and we were getting some surveillance shots of his wife and her lover—proof of adultery. Amanda, my assistant, was doing some routine background checks and became suspicious when she couldn’t find anything. So she asked a contact at the federal building for help, and they turned up the name Peter Dupree, and a Wanted notice for a possible murder in Barbados, so we called you guys. That’s about it,” Mason said, looking at the agent. “Any chance you can tell me more?”
Special Agent Kelly let out a sigh. “We’ve been working with several other agencies to take down a smuggling ring. It’s an ongoing task force that’s been working for years to stop the movement of guns, drugs, you name it, in and out of the country.”
“And this guy Peter Dupree is involved?” Ron asked.
“He might be one of their key men, but we’ve never had anything solid enough to grab him. No fingerprints, no witnesses. He’s a ghost, changing identity, appearance, location. We’ve never been able to track him down, though he’s left a trail of dead bodies behind him. The guy is a complete sociopath, but he’s good at what he does.”
“Well, I’m not sure if this actually is him, but it’s what came up,” Mason offered.
“You have the pictures?”
Mason nodded, having brought the entire file, and pushed it across the table.
Kelly looked over the photos, his interest intent. He took one photo out in particular and set it aside.
“The hair is a different color, and some of these shots aren’t exactly focusing on his face,” Kelly said.
“They were more to prove adultery on the wife’s part,” Mason reminded him.
“Right. But roughly, I’d say it looks like our guy. You said your client, his wife is having an affair with Dupree.”
“Yes, that’s Tracy.”
Kelly scanned the notes. “They run a charter business? Do you think it’s possible they are working with Dupree? Using the charter business as a cover?”
Mason shook his head. “Nothing in Rio’s recent background or his business records, which I have reviewed very closely, would suggest that. Rio seemed as surprised by the photos as anyone. I didn’t have any sense that he recognized Dupree.”
“Maybe it’s just the wife then, but either way, you’ve stumbled into a dangerous situation. You said your assistant has been doing background searches?”
Mason nodded, his stomach knotting.
“Tell her to stop. Dupree’s connected, even has contacts inside law enforcement, which is how we think he manages to evade our guys a lot of the time. But if he knows you’re checking him out, it puts you in danger.”
“Why is he here in Tampa?”
“He might be lying low, waiting for what happened down in Barbados to blow over, but these pictures give us an edge,” Kelly said, pointing to the corner of one of the photos. “This child. Sitting on the edge of the boat? He could be Dupree’s son. Dupree is suspected of killing the mother and three of her relatives who tried to stop him from taking the kid. If this is the kid, then it’s kidnapping.”
“That poor boy,” Mason said, sickened. “So you’re trying to get Dupree like they did with Al Capone. They couldn’t get him on his crimes, but he was arrested for tax evasion. You want to get this guy on kidnapping instead of smuggling?”
Kelly nodded. “Yeah. We weren’t even sure the stories were true. There was no evidence of a child being taken until now. The kid could be our only witness. He can identify Dupree, and might be able to tell us if he killed those people. These pictures give us a big head start,” Kelly said with relish.
Mason settled back in his chair, shaking his head at the enormity of it. This meant that Tracy Alvarez, at least, was involved with a killer. Mason had met Tracy once and found her a bit superficial, but somehow couldn’t see her being part of murder and kidnapping. Did she even know who Dupree was?
“Why don’t you pull Tracy in and ask her what she knows? She would seem to be the most direct route to the kid.”
“We can’t trust Tracy Alvarez. She could tip Dupree off and he’d be gone.”
“She and Rio could be in danger. What if Dupree finds out about the pictures? Seems like someone should tell them,” Mason said.
“If they’re not involved with Dupree, the less they know, the better. Are you and your assistant the only ones who have seen these pictures?”
“Rio saw them, too.”
“But he has no contact with Dupree or his ex?”
“No, not that I know of, but I don’t follow him around all day.”
“Tell your client there was a fire, something, and that the pictures were destroyed. Lay low for a bit. Call me immediately if there is any trouble. Is this your complete file?” Kelly asked, counting through the photos. “Negatives?”
“No negatives. The P.I. uses digital. He erases the files after he turns over hard copies.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“Yes.”
“Okay then. If you can give us his name, we’ll need to talk to him, too. We appreciate your help.”
That was it. The agents started to pack up, effectively ending the meeting. Mason was a bit shell-shocked, still trying to figure out what he’d do with Rio. Their case rested on those pictures proving Tracy had been unfaithful.
“Thank you for your cooperation. Have a good day, counselors,” Kelly said, and was out the door.
Mason looked through the window. “This isn’t normal, Ron. Rio will be pissed, and he’ll probably drop us to find another lawyer. What am I supposed to tell him?”
Ron blew out a breath, nodding. “Better than ending up dead. You did the right thing getting in here and turning it over to the feds, Mason. I say, go home, lay low until this thing blows over.”
“I’ll do what I can. I have depositions after lunch and a court appearance at three. I need to get going,” he said, standing.
“Watch your back, Mason. Seems like you stumbled across a real psycho,” Jace said.
“Yeah, well, it sounds like the feds have it under control. I hope they get him soon. Feel sorry for that little kid.”
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