Cover of Darkness (21 page)

You've got a job to do.
Raising her chin, she inhaled a steadying breath and went to take the stage.

Somewhere in Damascus

Tehrazzi folded his arms across his chest and leaned in the doorway, backlit by the hall light. The prisoner's harsh breathing pleased him. He could smell the man's terror as he sat bound to the chair, the whites of his eyes showing all around the irises.

He held the frightened gaze. "You know what I will do to you if you have lied to me?"

The man shook his head in a frantic motion. "I have not, I swear it—"

Tehrazzi nodded to his bodyguard, who unsheathed a jeweled dagger from its scabbard. Steel on steel hissed.

"I am telling the truth!" the prisoner shrieked, jerking away from the blade as it pressed against his throat. A trickle of blood spilled down his neck, staining the sweaty collar of his white dress shirt.

"And you say this tape will prove Masood is setting me up?"

The prisoner had his eyes shut, was shaking so hard the wooden legs of the chair squeaked against the floor. "Yes, yes!"

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Tehrazzi crossed over to the table next to him and played the tape. By the time it finished, his blood was boiling. The Americans were planning to trap him tonight. All because of Masood.

The pain was sharp and terrible. Much worse than he would have expected.

Traitor. How could he have admired such a man? To think he'd once idolized him as mentor and benefactor. In the end, their twenty-year friendship mattered no more to Masood than the no-doubt lucrative business deal the Americans had offered him. Handing him over to the infidels for
money
. An unforgivable sin. One he would pay the ultimate price for.

His vision blurred as his rage took hold. The betrayal tasted bitter on his tongue.

He looked over his shoulder at the prisoner, whose eyes held a tremulous hope now that his veracity had been confirmed.

"Loyalty is a rare thing in today's society. I would spare your life." The man sagged in his seat with a quiet sob.

Tehrazzi pinned him with merciless eyes. "But I cannot risk you playing one side against the other, as your boss has done."

The prisoner went rigid.

For a moment he almost changed his mind. This man had told him the truth. No. His suffering was necessary to prevent others from turning against him. "As I cannot ensure you will hold your tongue, I will have to take more...severe measures." After tonight, no one would dare cross him again.

Steeling his heart, he nodded to his guard.

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Assoud grasped the prisoner's chin, blade ready. "Open wide."

The man jerked his head away, eyes wide with horror.

"No," he begged, "please, I swear I will not—"

"When you're finished," Tehrazzi said to Assoud, "we will go take care of this latest problem." He walked out without glancing back, agonized screams following him into the darkness.

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On the street, a few doors down from the club, Dec heard the hush fall over the place and his guts clenched. Any moment now, Bryn would be starting her performance. She didn't need to do it, either, because security hadn't been as air tight as they'd expected and he'd already planted the bugs. But hauling her away before she'd done her show would tip everyone off that something was up. As the music floated down the alley to him, every cell in his body demanded he barge in there and hustle her away to the car. He hated the idea of any man leering at her while she was onstage wearing next to nothing.

Outside in the shadows, he imagined her dancing, her body gyrating in her skimpy costume. He'd seen the damn thing earlier when she and Luke had returned from shopping, so he had a vivid image of the gold beaded bikini. And now a roomful of men with sex on their minds were ogling her. A growl of frustration locked in his throat.

A few minutes ticked by, his muscles tightening to the point of pain. Christ, he hated this whole thing. He'd rather have taken on the entire club with his team than put Bryn through this. She had to be scared, even with Luke and Ben in there.

The music changed from a pounding rhythm of drums to a slow, sensual beat. His feet shifted in agitation as he stood there, watching for the all-clear signal. How the hell long was he going to have to suffer this torture? He wished they'd 198

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stationed him in the club with her. At least he would have been able to see for himself whether she was okay or not.

But of course, that was why he was standing out in the fucking alley all by himself, wasn't it? He didn't think straight when it came to Bryn, and Luke knew it. The only reason he was on this mission was because of the white-knight complex he had developed toward her. Add the instability of the sexual attraction between them, and you ended up with an explosion waiting to happen.

Footsteps had him swinging his head around. They grew louder as they approached to his left on the sidewalk. Dec's fingers tightened on the Glock concealed inside his jacket.

Pressing close against the brick wall, he peered out at the main street. Ben came into view, hands smoothing his necktie as he passed under a streetlamp. The all-clear signal.

With a breath of relief, Dec made his way to the sidewalk and turned the corner just as Ben disappeared into the club.

Keeping with the plan, he took up his position close to the fire exit while Ben pushed through the crowd to get close to Bryn.

But when Dec moved into place with his back to the wall, he caught sight of her out on the dance floor and his spine jerked. His field of vision narrowed until she was the only thing in it. The crowd in front of him seemed to vanish, the room closing in. The erotic throb of the drums echoed in his empty head, the sight of her hypnotizing him. He forgot about staying alert for Tehrazzi and his lieutenants, and the man who funded their operations. Everything in him was riveted on Bryn out on that dance floor.

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Luke had wanted a diversion, and that's sure as hell what she was.

She glowed under the lights, the golden bra pushing her breasts high, the low-slung skirt leaving her midriff bare. As she undulated, the jewels dangling from her navel glinted, drawing his eyes to her abs, rippling with her movements.

Bangles decorated her arms, her hair trailing the length of her sleek back in a dark waterfall as she twirled on the balls of her feet. She moved in a graceful rhythm, her hips dipping and circling in blatant invitation, the beaded fringe on her skirt swaying.

But her eyes, outlined with heavy makeup, paralyzed him with their sultry heat. In a trance, he watched her lift her arms above her head, her hips gliding up on one side and down on the other in a move worthy of the highest-paid stripper, then throwing her head back as her entire body shimmied and every piece of jewelry and bead on her quivered, like...

Jesus, almost like she was having an orgasm. The jolt of lust that surged through him made his head spin. Were his eyes bleeding?

Dear Christ in Heaven, she was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen in his life.

His jaw nearly fell open when she followed that move by sinking to her knees and then to her back, her legs tucked underneath her at an impossible angle. From that position she somehow lifted her torso off the floor without using her arms and did some more of those mind-melting undulations, abs 200

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rolling, her arms and hands making snakelike motions in the air above her.

She had every man in the room mesmerized. She was sex personified, a woman writhing in abandonment beneath her lover. Dec could barely breathe.

When the performance ended and the music faded, the audience fell into an awed silence, then erupted into a cacophony of applause and yells.

Jesus, he'd been standing there like an idiot instead of doing his job.

Jerked back to reality, Dec stood by the exit while Luke escorted her into the back room with a heavy-set Arab man.

His eyes cut around the club, settling on Ben in the opposite corner, who was watching him with rigid features.

Dec's pulse thudded. Something wasn't right. He thrust his chin towards Ben.
What's going on?

Ben lifted four fingers.

Shit. Only one man was supposed to be back there with them—that heavy-set guy was supposed to have won the bidding war for Bryn. And now she had four men with her, expecting her to...

A primitive, dominant rage roiled through him. If anyone laid a hand on her, he'd...

He'd what? He was on the other side of the damn building.

He took a deep breath, forced it out, then another.

Through the haze of anger he maintained his gaze on Ben, who straightened his tie and started toward the door that led to the back room. Dec moved through the crowd after him, Glock primed.

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Bryn's heart pounded as the hoots and applause filled the room. The spotlights shut off, leaving her breathing out a sigh of relief. It was over. She'd done it, despite her wobbly knees and tense muscles. Almost done. Her eyes swept over the crowd as she left the stage. She didn't see Dec, but Luke appeared at the stairs, and she grabbed the hand he offered.

His firm grip calmed her.

"Great job, lady," he said, handing her a robe to cover with. "Ready for the rest of it?"

"Yeah." She just wanted it done, the sooner the better. "Is he waiting for me?"

"In the back."

She geared up for the next part of her act, keeping her eyes downcast as she trailed behind him. He made her feel completely safe despite the circumstances. Masood was waiting next to Ben at the door. The Syrian's dark eyes gleamed when he saw her. She shivered.
You can do this. It's
only pretend, and Luke won't let anything happen to you.

She forced what she hoped was a seductive smile at the Syrian and let her eyes stray to Ben. He nodded to her, and she could almost hear his words.
It's all right, sweets. I got
your back
. She sent him a silent thank you with her eyes and gripped Luke's hand tighter. He squeezed back.

Masood preceded them into his office, his bald spot gleaming from the recessed lights in the ceiling. His shirt had sweaty spots between his shoulder blades and under his arms. She hoped she wouldn't have to touch him much.

"A few of my associates wished to meet you, little flower,"

he said.

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What? She smothered a gasp when she saw the four middle-aged men seated around a table, watching her. She fought not to glance at Luke. This wasn't supposed to happen.

It was only supposed to be her and Luke and Masood back here.

Luke's calm expression never faltered. Okay, he'd already adapted to the situation. Now it was her turn.

She refocused on her role. "Of course," she murmured even though her heart was racing.

Masood took her from Luke, brought her over to meet the others. The hand he splayed over her hips was lower than she was comfortable with, and damp against her skin above the low slung skirt. He rubbed her there, fingers caressing.

She gritted her teeth. Well, what did she expect? He thought she was a whore he'd paid for. Bryn clenched her jaw as he showed her off like a prized mare to his friends, struggling to stay in character. A secretive glance, the hint of a smile. Seductive yet mysterious, a little bit shy. From the hungry glint in Masood's eyes, she figured she was doing a decent job of it. This meek and subservient routine was not for her.

He took her chin in his fingers, and she gazed up at him through her lashes while trying not to shudder at the lust on his face. "Would you like something to drink?"

"If...if it would not be too much trouble."

One corner of his mouth went up. "Some champagne?"

"Lovely."

He trailed a hand down her bare arm. "Yes, you are."

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She resisted the urge to wipe his touch away when he went to the bar. Luke was talking with the others in rapid Arabic, laughing and seeming completely at ease with his new companions.

Lucky him. He got to be one of the boys while she played courtesan to a sweaty stranger.

Masood returned with her drink. He draped an arm across her shoulders. "Shall we go get better acquainted?"

Ew. "I would like that." She barely withheld from grabbing his meaty wrist and throwing him to the floor on his ass. The image empowered her.

He sat in a leather chair behind a massive mahogany desk and patted his lap. "Sit with me."

She froze an instant. Her stomach turned but she slid into his lap anyway, and went rigid as she felt the erection prodding her backside. Her eyes cut over to Luke. Get me out of here, she willed him, but he didn't even glance her way.

Bryn braced her hands against the Syrian's damp shirt, revolted by the cloying scent of his cologne that tried to mask his offensive body odor. A thick thatch of hair erupted from his collar. She stared at the heavy gold chain tangled in it.

Relax, Bryn. Act the part. It'll be over soon
.

Not near soon enough.

She forced her muscles to relax, met his hungry gaze.

"You are beautiful," he murmured, trailing a hand over her hair so the back of it brushed against her breast.

Her belly tightened to the point of pain.

The hand slid down her back and settled on her hip, squeezed her butt.

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Her head came up, and she tried not to glare. He smiled, must have taken the action for interest because he gripped her hair in a fist and planted his lips on hers in a wet, passionate kiss. She jerked her head back. His smile widened.