“Glad you could make it, Henry.” He gripped the man’s hand, knowing that he had a job to do. He needed to suggest they take a seat. Keep Fiona close for camouflage. Chat Darcy up, steering the conversation in practiced circles as he tried to find out what, if anything, Darcy knew about the details of Deliverance.
That’s what he was supposed to do. That’s why he’d organized this entire party.
Instead, he apologized for needing to duck inside and make a call. “I just got a text about a matter I can’t ignore. But, Fiona, maybe you and Henry could grab a table, and I’ll come back in a few minutes and join you?”
“Sure, baby,” she said, though she looked less than thrilled by the prospect. Henry, on the contrary, looked delighted by the plan. “Hurry back,” she added, then pulled him close and kissed him hard.
It took all his willpower to keep from wiping away her kiss until he was safely back inside the house.
He’d almost made it to the front door when Liam caught up to him.
“I don’t even want to hear it.”
“Hear what?” Liam countered, his arms crossed over his muscled chest. “I haven’t said a word. Not a single thing.”
“Whatever Darcy was going to tell WORR or the UN or the FBI, he has.” The World Organization for Rescue and Rehabilitation wasn’t a government agency, but it consulted closely with agencies all over the world, including the FBI, and its power and influence was significant. More than that, Bill Martin—Jane’s ex-husband—was one of the organization’s movers and shakers. “And since we haven’t been handed our asses recently, it’s a safe bet that they know nothing. That Darcy knows nothing.”
“A safe bet isn’t a certainty.”
For a moment, Dallas almost told Liam to back off. Deliverance was Dallas’s brainchild, his operation, and he’d run it however the hell he chose.
But that was idiotic. For one, Dallas may have started the group, but it was only as good as the team he put together. A team he respected, made up of men who were his closest friends.
“I can’t do it,” he said. “Not right now. And I know it’s a risk, but I think it’s a small one. I’ll still talk to Darcy—I’ll find out whatever is left to find out—but right now, I need to find Jane. So dammit, Liam, get the fuck out of my way.”
A Hasty Retreat
I’m shifting my weight from foot to foot, trying not to be pissed off at the hired valet guys for stupidly parking the guests’ cars in front of the garage. I’d thrust my keys into his hands and told him to please just hurry.
But you can only move so fast when you have a dozen or so cars to rearrange, and that means that I’m stuck here until he manages to work out that little puzzle and bring me my car.
And, dammit, I really want to get the hell out of here.
I know Dallas has a role to play, I get it. For that matter, I even understand that it was only partially a role before. I mean, he wanted those women in his bed. Hell, he got off on it. Doing things with them. To them.
It was a release. A way to satisfy himself.
He didn’t literally fuck them—I know that—but he sure as hell enjoyed them. And I don’t begrudge him that. I really don’t.
I mean, hell, I got married. So it’s not like I was living the life of a nun. And even after my divorce, I wasn’t celibate. There’ve been guys. Not a lot, but enough. After all, I’m rather fond of orgasms. And although I’d wanted Dallas, I’d believed I could never have him. So why not drown my sorrows in other men?
But the last guy I fucked was a long time ago, and I sure as hell haven’t been with anyone since Dallas.
I know he’s putting on a show—I know it. But I had assumed he would pick some anonymous girl from the crowd. Not Fiona, a girl he’s gone out with more than once, which means that she’s more than just a throw-away.
And I’d assumed that he’d simply pat her ass and put on the touchy-feely show. I hadn’t expected to see her grab his cock. And I sure as hell hadn’t anticipated watching him get hard from another woman’s touch.
I realize that I’ve clenched my fists, and right then I think I’d punch Fiona in her pert little nose if I saw her. For that matter, I just might punch Dallas.
He, however, isn’t nearby. Most likely because he’s taken her upstairs to his bedroom.
Oh dear god. His bedroom.
I remember the day not too long ago when I’d come to this house to see him—and found him in his room with two very naked women in his bed. I’d missed the actual show, thank god, but I’d gotten an eyeful of both the girls and a collection of toys lying around.
I close my eyes and wrap my arms around myself, thinking about those black satin sheets where he’ll soon be taking her. Sheets that have touched my bare skin. That I’ve clawed, trying to hang on to reason while his beard stubble scratched my inner thighs and his tongue worked magic on my clit.