Scorching Desire by Mari Carr, Lila Dubois Read Free Book Online

to the closet, taking off his shirt and dropping it into a dry-cleaning bag.
    “Why are you dressed like that?” Damon asked. It was totally unimportant, but he needed some time to let the new information sink in.
    “I posed as Tasha’s boyfriend when we went to the fetish club.” Marco jerked open a drawer and took out a polo. “She had to pretend she was interviewing for a job working there.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean that she took off everything but her underwear and got manhandled. This fucker named Sammy made her put on handcuffs and then jerked her around.” Marco shrugged on a new shirt. “I hate that she had to go through that because of something we did.”
    Marco’s defense of Tasha was unexpected. “I agree that’s unsavory, but I assume she’s accustomed to being in difficult situations if she’s a corporate security agent.”
    “She’s not a corporate security agent. I think she was a spy. A real spy.”
    “Like a CIA agent?”
    “I don’t know, maybe.” Marco shrugged. “I don’t like that someone else may have to get hurt to fix our problem.”
    “What makes you think that she’s going to get hurt?”
    “Fine, not hurt, but she may have to do things—like pretend to be a stripper—to help us.”
    “I agree that it’s not ideal, but I’m also enough of a feminist that if she chooses to use her sexuality that way I’m not going to judge her for it.” Damon didn’t like the idea of anyone—man or woman—cleaning up his mess, but after the way Tasha had gotten him to blurt out the information about the stolen cell phone, he wasn’t going to make the mistake of thinking she was helpless.
    “She’s not what she seems,” Marco said. “She’s…”
    “What?”
    Marco shook his head. “I don’t know.”
    “Let’s go. I want to hear what she thinks is going on.”
    Tasha was applying makeup, using the mirror in the foyer. She’d changed clothes and was now wearing black boots, a pair of tiny skin-tight black shorts and a loose black see-though shirt.
    “Tasha?” Marco asked.
    When she faced them her eyes were rimmed with dark make-up, making her look dangerous, but her lips were a glossy pink.
    “I’ve reported our progress to the Grand Master,” she said.
    “Was he pissed?” Damon asked.
    “He might have been , had I told him everything.” She checked her reflection again, this time pulling her hair up into a loose bun that she secured with two black chopsticks. “He doesn’t need to know everything we do, only that we’ve made preliminary identifications and are pursuing the women.”
    “Thank you,” Damon said.
    “Where are you going?” Marco asked.
    “To the club. I want to see Jennie.”
    “I’m going with you,” Marco declared.
    “No, you’re not.”
    “Yes, I am. After what happened in Vegas I’m not letting you go alone.”
    “You’re going to…protect me?” Tasha looked away, and Damon thought for a moment her face changed, her expression sad or uncertain. He stiffened—was she afraid? Planning to put herself in real danger?
    “I’m going too,” he said, surprising himself.
    Marco raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were too much of a feminist.”
    “Shut up, asshole.”
    Tasha crossed her arms, making Damon painfully aware of the fact that he could clearly see her bra and the upper swell of her breasts through the shirt.
    “You are not going with me. You will stay here and eat your food.”
    “We’re going with you.” Damon stepped up to her. Even with heels, she was shorter than him. He was not above using some body-language intimidation to get what he wanted.
    “You’re going to go to a fetish club? Unless you have alternate IDs you risk your precious reputation.”
    Damon smiled. “Luckily, I do have one. You might not think it, due to our current situations, but Marco and I know how to be careful.”
    Tasha looked between them and then shrugged. “Fine. We need to leave. I’ll give you instructions on the