Bait: A dark erotic thriller (Hunter & Prey Book 2) (3 page)

“Alison, Ray, so good to meet you again,” I enthused, then offered only a sidelong glance at the third, very interested party. “Darren.”

Ray was smirking now, while his wife still seemed on the fence about my presence. The girl was confused, but as no one seemed ready to deliver her from her oblivious state, I didn’t see why that should have fallen to me. And Darren… well, Darren continued to devour me with his eyes as if I was the water to his dehydrated self.

“Penelope, what a surprise,” Alison said, a hint of a smile appearing on her face.

“I can imagine,” I agreed with her. “I don’t think anyone here expected to see me again. Ever.” Another glance at Darren wasn’t warranted, but I still added it, just for show. He was still staring back at me, unmoving, not even blinking.
 

Proving that she was a top-notch lawyer not just because of the money she brought into the business to start with but because she was observant as hell, Alison’s eyes latched onto my right hand that was wrapped around my clutch—both to hide the occasional involuntary spasm and the fact that I needed to sink my fingers into something I could hold on to for dear life.
 

“What happened to your fingers?”

“Oh, this?” I said, looking down at the scars and crooked bits as if it was nothing. I caught her gaze again, feeling emotion leak out of my face although I tried to keep it there. “You wouldn’t believe the whole story if I told you, trust me.” That part was true. But because I was here for a purpose, I couldn’t leave it at that. “But the short version is, I was in a skiing accident.”

“A skiing accident?” Alison echoed, sounding that perfect bit of concerned that told me that she didn’t buy my bullshit.

“As I said, it’s terribly complicated.” I added a light laugh that choked my soul but sounded moderately convincing. “You know how these things go.” Then I flicked my eyes to Darren again, letting my gaze latch onto the scar that was visible above the collar of his shirt. It had healed well—as had to be expected, if it healed at all—but didn’t have a tampered look to it. Not that I had expected him to hide it, but it still gave me immense satisfaction to see it there. Pitching my tone to a light simper, I caught his gaze again. “I see you’ve recovered well from your, what was it? Rafting accident, right?”

I almost had given up on getting a reaction out of him, but he gave a curt nod, his eyes still aflame. Oh, he really didn’t like me being here, behaving like this. But then I had a very good idea of how and where he wanted me.

“How is life treating you these days?” Ray questioned when no one else said anything, turning the tension between us up several notches. Only a blind man—or woman—would have been oblivious to it. With his action, Ray was giving me the perfect stage. The smile he got for that was real—something I hadn’t thought possible before all the shit hit the fan. That he seemed terribly amused by my mere presence I didn’t mind.

“Good, good. I spent some time on vacation. Lazing around on the beach, basking in the sun, enjoying life…”

The polar opposite of what life had been like for me since I’d last seen these people, but I sounded convincing enough with my simper. Looking back to Darren, I let my lips curve into a teasing smile. “But, you know how it is with us workaholic types. We can only let go for so long. Now that I’m back in the city, I thought I should tell my nearest and dearest about the good news.”

That got me a momentary sarcastic grin from Alison, reminding me of our conversations. She had absolutely no illusions about my job, and that deeply ingrained sense of realism was something I’d always admired about her.

“So it is business rather than pleasure that brings you back?” she asked, letting that grin turn back into a jovial smile.

“I don’t see why there has to be a distinction between the two,” I said, laughing softly. Part of me wanted to glance at Ray, but I respected Alison too much to do that. With Darren, I had fewer reservations there, and the flare of anger in his eyes I got in return was most satisfying.

“Back to the daily grind it is?” Ray asked, stressing “grind” so much that I felt like rolling my eyes at him, but of course I didn’t. Instead I shrugged.

“Actually, I think I’ll switch into upper management. You know how it goes—when you’re young, you don’t mind working yourself until you’re sore and worn out, but once you get as old as I am—“

“You don’t look a day over twenty-five,” Ray replied, snickering. “Or at least parts of you don’t.”

It didn’t go by me unnoticed that a muscle jumped in Alison’s jaw, but the joke was so bad that I didn’t even deign to respond to it. I was also running out of time, and, quite frankly, my nerves were as taut as steel cables; there was only so much they could take before they’d snap—and standing no more than three feet away from Darren was wearing down my defenses quicker than I could rebuild them.

“Well, it was charming to see you all again, but I’m afraid I have places to be. I am positively sure that we will run into each other again, very soon.”

I allowed myself a last look at each of them, my eyes lingering on Darren. He hadn’t said a single word, but then he didn’t need to. The look on his face—in his eyes—spoke volumes, the intensity only increasing when I caught his gaze and held it levelly.

I’d been afraid that this exact look would make me cringe away and want to run scared, but while part of me wanted to curl up in a corner and scream, I found it surprisingly easy to remain strong and confident in front of him. After all, I didn’t need to play the victim here, caught in the headlights. I’d been the one to almost bring him down, equalizing the playing field between us.

And I was the one who got away—and continued to elude him as I turned to go and walked toward the front exit, my spine straight, my shoulders relaxed, feeling his eyes like a white-hot laser beam boring into the back of my skull.

Halfway across the room, I felt my nerves snap like that thick steel cable under too much tension, making it hard not to stumble and fall down onto my knees. But I forced myself to keep walking, not to betray an ounce of my distress in the lines of my body. It was impossible to maintain a pleasant smile so I let my features even out, not giving a shit about the cold, hard mask that my face turned into. I knew exactly how I looked—it was that very face that stared back at me every time I glanced into a mirror. Eyes hard but lifeless; lips pressed together, not a hint of an alluring curve left. Fifteen years of my life I had devoted to always cultivating an open, approachable look, and a week in Darren’s basement had been enough to destroy all my efforts for good.

Six months I’d spent running, but the time for hiding was over.

The bitch is back, baby, and she has come to bring you down.

I somehow made it out of the ballroom and across the sprawling foyer. If my security detail had chosen that moment to accost me, I likely wouldn’t have been able to evade them. But the only one of them that I saw was Michaels where he hovered next to his limousine across the street.

I ignored him, and instead walked straight up to the other—much less low-cost—black limousine that was waiting for me right at the bottom of the stairs, the valet already holding the door for me.

“Good evening, Ms. Thompson,” he wished me as he closed the door, and the chauffeur pulled away not a second later. There was no need to tell him where we were going—I’d made sure to arrange everything ahead of time, paying extra for effortless, smooth service. It didn’t go unnoticed that I’d now switched to the other side—for years it had been my job to make sure that my clients felt like everything around them was one oiled machine running at top performance—and as frayed as my nerves were once again, I truly appreciated it.

I briefly checked my phone, but of course there were no calls. No one had this number except for the one person I had contacted to arrange all this, and there was no need for him to get back to me now that the car had picked me up. It was still a relief to me that—if only for a few minutes—I’d managed to shake my tail. And considering that from now on there would be two parties invested in keeping tabs on me at all times, I cherished my momentary freedom.

I had no illusions that, within the hour, Darren would set things in motion to have someone watch me. I didn’t even try to make him work for it; it would be easy to ask the valet about the limousine that had picked me up or get the feed from the security cameras. The number plate would lead to the limousine service, who would tell him where they had dropped me off. And because I had no reason in the world not to set myself up on a silver platter, I’d made sure to use my full name when I’d made reservations at the Peninsula Chicago. In short, nothing would keep Darren from walking into the lobby and waiting for me there, but I was sure that I hadn’t gotten him that far yet.

But gotten to him I had, that was for sure. I knew that it hadn’t been just the outfit, but I still felt like it had been the perfectly orchestrated “come get me” setup. The whore in the wedding dress—the most blatant reminder of who I was. Now I’d just have to get rid of that girl, but that couldn’t be that hard a quest, considering that the moment he had laid eyes on me, she’d been invisible to him.

Now if that had disturbed me a little less—or been something else than a guarantee for never sleeping another minute until this was over—things would have been just peachy.

As the limousine made its slow way through the heavy evening traffic, I couldn’t help but wait for the inevitable breakdown—but it never came. There was just that cold, numb feeling spreading throughout me, even more stark now after that brief flash of light in the ballroom. I really didn’t like what that said about the state of my psyche, but I’d known that there would be casualties from the moment that Agent Smith had tracked us down in that dingy diner. Now all I could do was cut my losses and try not to drown.

The valet at the Peninsula held my door for me as I got out, and I stalked right through the lobby to the reception desk. Philip was already waiting for me, stepping away from where a couple was right now waiting to check in, which earned me the typical immediate stink-eye—not that I cared. I felt oddly vindicated that the woman practically glared at my outfit, sizing me up and discarding me in a moment.

“We have your penthouse suite prepared for you, Ms. Thompson,” Philip said, already pushing the key card toward me across the counter. The hag’s eyes grew just a little wide at hearing that.

“Thank you,” I replied, putting the card away.

“Everything has been set up to your specifications. I have booked your spa treatments, if you will review your treatment plan? And the personal shopper will meet with you tomorrow at seven sharp.”

I glanced at the full time table he showed me and approved it with a nod. It was less about me wanting to feel pampered—which I kind of did, but with what was breathing down my neck, I doubted that the full-hour massage would do anything to work the kinks out of my shoulders—and more about my body being in dire need of erasing the last seven months of abuse. The hair color was really the least of my concerns and the easiest to fix.

“Perfect.”

“Breakfast will be delivered each morning at six, as per your request, or whenever you call down. Our kitchen staff is ready for you 24/7.” I nodded again, then signed the stack of papers he pushed at me. “Do you already know how long you will be staying?”

I shook my head as I returned the pen to him. “At the very least several weeks. I hope that won’t be a problem?”

“Of course not,” he assured me, likely already planning what he’d do with the commission for managing to book their insanely expensive, floor-spanning suite for an undefined time.

“I will have the deposit wired to you within the hour.” Because the ten bucks in my purse—all that was left from my last paycheck—wouldn’t even get me into the elevator in this hotel.

“Here is the phone you requested.” He pushed a brand-spanking-new phone across the table, complete with the paperwork for the SIM card. “Will that be all?”

I nodded, although I was tempted to send him out to buy me panties so that I’d have something new to wear until the personal shopper would return—but that would have been a little too cruel, I figured.

“No, thank you. That will be all,” I said, then paused. “And, Philip? In about ten minutes from now a very fierce, very angry black woman will come storming into the lobby. Will you please send her up to my suite? Thank you.”

“Of course,” he acknowledged, not batting an eyelash. Maybe I should have just sent him for fresh underwear after all.

The ride in the elevator was uneventful and quick, making me stare at nothing beyond the dark wood panelling. Then the doors opened on my floor and I stepped into the foyer, barely noticing the black marble floor and tasteful terra-cotta walls. The lights were off in the room beyond, letting the city lights flood through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I halted for a moment, tempted to go explore and take the view of the city in from the terrace, but instead sat down on one of the sofas.

Just sitting there, thinking—inactive—tore at my nerves. Now that things were in motion, I had a million tasks to do, people to call, meetings to arrange. To make sure that no one would be able to follow us, Adam had enforced a mandatory complete blackout, to the point where I had no idea what was up with my finances or anything. The fact that I was sitting here, in this suite, I only owed to the fact that I’d known Philip for a long, long time, and when I had called, he had not only recognized me immediately, but known what kind of weight I could throw around if I wanted to. Had been able to, rather, but he didn’t know that yet, and if things went as planned, he never would. I was aware that I was burning the candle at both ends right now, but I couldn’t make myself care.
 

Exactly seven minutes after I’d entered the suite, the fury in the pants suit came crashing into the room, her small entourage, consisting of Adam, Michaels, the driver, and the two not-waiters, trailing after her. I didn’t even flinch, but neither did I try to put any kind of emotion onto my features as Agent Smith stopped in front of me, seething.