September 21, 1998
MONDAY MORNING, I SHOW UP for work fifteen minutes early, hoping to catch a few of the secretaries around the water cooler.
There’s no one here.
It’s like a ghost town.
The only person visible is Julia, and she’s sitting at her desk with a puss on her face, staring down at some paperwork in front of her.
“Good morning, Julia,” I hum as I place my identification underneath the scanner.
Without looking up, she waves her hand dismissively. I walk by, and still, she stares at her desk. Not even a flinch as I pass. Just as I’m about to enter the elevator, she calls out, “Ethan wants to see you.” I look back, but she still has her head bowed.
So much for pleasantries.
Entering the elevator, I place my ID in the slot and hit my floor. As the elevator whisks me up, I wonder what Ethan could possibly want that couldn’t wait. A knot forms in the pit of my stomach, but I suppress it. It’s fine. He knows nothing.
With a ding, the elevator doors open, and I find Ethan sitting at my desk. Strange. “Good Morning, Mr.—I mean, Ethan,” I correct myself.
He doesn’t answer. His expression is stoic, and the knot grows. As I approach him, his demeanor changes. He softens. His eyes meet mine, and a flame flickers behind his irises. His lips twitch as he says, “Don’t forget, you promised me dinner this evening.”
Reaching my desk, I bite my lower lip. He sucks in a breath as I answer, “I always keep my promises.”
He stands, allowing me to sit. This morning, I decided to leave my hair down, allowing the long, soft waves to spill down my back, reaching my ass. Leaning in, he brushes a stray tendril off my shoulder, his fingers skimming the skin along my neck. He moves closer, his warm breath caressing my ear as he whispers, “I like your hair down.”
Stepping back, he regards me. Once again, I notice the bulge in his pants. It’s way too easy to get this fool excited. Shaking his head, he starts to turn. “Did you need anything?” I purr, twisting one of the tendrils around my fingers.
He stops short, his mouth twitching. “Not right now, but ask me again later,” he challenges, then walks into his office, closing the door behind him.
Spinning in my chair, I turn on my computer, pretending to get to work. While it boots, I think about what my handler told me the other night.
You better hope he doesn’t get suspicious. If what your gut is telling you is true, you’re not safe.
Yes, dinner with him tonight will work if I can’t get the information I need today. He’s definitely willing and seems able. With his dick straining to get out of his Dockers, I know he’ll try to take me back to his place. If I can avoid it, I will. I’d rather be on a flight home. There has to be some way to get him out of his office long enough for me to snoop without getting caught.
My phone rings a strange tone, catching me by surprise. It hasn’t rung like that since I’ve been here. Looking at the extension number, it appears to be from within the building. Picking up the receiver, I answer, “Mr. Sawyer’s office, how can I help you.”
“Deloris, this is Julia. Could you please come to my office for a minute? I have something for you to give Mr. Sawyer.”
“Of course, I’ll be right down.” Before the last word passes my lips, she hangs up. What the fuck is wrong with her?
I knock on Ethan’s door. After a beat, he opens it. “Julia needs me downstairs. Do you need anything while I’m down there?”
“No, but let me know when you’re back. I have some things I need you to email.” His tone changed from the horny boss to the professional one.
“No problem,” I answer as I turn toward the elevator.
Once I’m downstairs, I hurry to Julia’s desk. She stands as I approach, motioning to the room where my ID was made. Once we’ve both entered, she closes the door. “You are to stay the fuck away from Ethan,” she snaps.
“I’m sorry?” I ask, taking a step back.
“You are not to fraternize with Mr. Sawyer. He’s off limits.” Either she dated Ethan, or she wants to. Only one way to find out.
“Ethan asked me to dinner this evening,” I goad. “And since I’m only a temp, it’s not really fraternizing.”
Her face turns beet read, her pupils flaring. Containing her temper is not her strong suit. She balls her tiny hands into fists, and it’s comical to watch the display of jealousy.
“Stay. Away. From. Him!” Her words come out through gritted teeth.
If she only knew.
“It’s not me you should be worrying about, sweetie. He can’t stay away from me.” If her head could explode, it would have by now. Crimson creeps down her neck, settling across her entire body. She’s beyond pissed.
“Get out,” she growls.
“Fine, Ethan needs me,” I say, flipping my hair off my shoulders. Turning, I don’t look back and move toward the elevator.
After sending countless emails and performing other office duties, my opportunity arises. Ethan comes out of his office, leaving his door open a crack. “I need to attend a meeting. I’ll be back in an hour or so. I need you to type this up and email it to the following people,” he says, handing me a hand-written paper with a list of email addresses.
“Yes, Mr. Sawyer,” I say, smiling.
Moving close enough so his hand brushes my knee, he murmurs, “I hope you’re wearing that lacy thing from Friday under there.” With that, he strides to the elevator.
I wait until I know he’s not coming back, and enter his office. Mentally, I set a timer in my head, giving me just short of an hour to work with. With quick movements, I’m behind his desk and rummaging through his drawers. His computer is password protected, and I’m not lucky enough for him to have left the computer on. Moving numerous papers around his desk, I can’t find anything resembling a password. I check underneath drawers, looking for something taped to the bottom.
Nothing.
I sit in his chair and turn the computer on. Recalling the information from his dossier, I try birthdays and other important information.
Then it hits me.
He’s a gambler. Gamblers have lucky numbers. Remembering the numbers he always played on the roulette wheel, I try them in random orders. After the third try, the computer springs to life. The first place I look is in his emails, checking different folders. I scan through his contacts, but find nothing incriminating. Next, I open his file folder. Again, nothing that’ll help. Glancing toward the door, my heart begins to race. I’m running out of time and ideas. There are a few more folders I can check, but if I don’t leave this office now . . . The last thing I need is to get caught, especially if they are suspicious of someone. Counting down to mere minutes, I know my time is just about to run out.
Logging out, I place everything on his desk exactly as I found it, and slide out of his office, leaving the door slightly ajar in the same way Ethan did before he left. As soon as my fingers start typing the email he gave me to finish, the elevator door pings open and in walks Ethan. The clock in my head’s never let me down, and my timing couldn’t have been better.
Smiling, he walks by me without a word, and closes the door. I sit and wait, assuring myself I put everything back the right way. After a few minutes, I relax and get back to work.
A few minutes before I pack up to leave, his office door opens. “Deloris, could you come in here before you leave, please,” his soft voice asks.
“Of course,” I answer, spinning in my chair and entering his office.
He closes the door behind me. “We still on for tonight?” he whispers, his fingers skimming my shoulder from behind.
Turning, I answer, “Yes, we’re still on.”
“Good.” His eyes light up, a huge grin covering his face. Placing his hand on my cheek, he adds, “There’s a fantastic Italian restaurant in the square. I’ll pick you up around six?”
I’d tell him no, but he knows where I live. It’s in the personnel files. I also know he doesn’t live far from here—or me. Still . . . I’d be more comfortable arranging my own transportation.
“Can I meet you there? I have a few errands to run. That way I won’t need to rush and can go straight there,” I object, placing my hand on his to lessen the sting. My excuse sounds plausible.
Tilting his head to the side, he regards me for a moment, then walks behind his desk. “I’d rather be the gentleman and pick you up, especially since we both arrived separate on Saturday, but I understand you’re a busy woman.” Placing his hands on the back of his chair, he prepares to sit.
“I’ll make it up to you,” I purr, licking my lips. His eyes widen just a bit, then his jaw ticks.
“I bet you will.”
Rummaging through my closet, I choose a long, black dress. No zippers or buttons, but a wide open back with material pooling at the base of my spine.
Easy on, easy off.
Stepping into it, I smooth out the mermaid-shaped fabric over my curves. Taking a deep breath, I leave my apartment and stride toward the restaurant. The last thing I need to be is late. I’m hoping to actually get there before him.
No such luck.
He’s sitting at the bar, and notices me right away. His jaw drops as he looks me over.
I knew this dress would seal the deal.
“See something you like?”
Standing, he answers, “Oh, you know I do.” His eyes roam down my body, then back up to the cleavage spilling out of the tight dress. “You are a temptress.”
“I thought we were here to eat?” I tease, my teeth grazing my bottom lip.
“That we are,” he assures me. “Come, let’s eat so we can leave.”
After dinner, he insists we go back to his apartment, which is within walking distance. Standing in front of the restaurant, I pretend to weigh the options in my mind, knowing full well I’ll be going. “I don’t know if I should.”
Moving so he’s behind me, he grips my hips and pulls me against his body. His erection presses into the small of my back. Brushing the hair away from my ear, he whispers, “You know you want to,” then nips the nape of my neck.
I roll my head, giving him access. Groaning, he nips my ear. “Okay,” I whisper. “I’ll go home with you.”
“You have no idea how much that pleases me,” he murmurs, then releases me.
Taking my hand, we stroll down the sidewalk, walking the few blocks to his place. We enter the building and walk up a set of stairs. Leading me down the hall, he opens the third door on the left. As we enter his apartment, he starts stripping off his clothes.
Shoes.
Tie.
Before he gets to his shirt, I intervene. “Please,” I croon. “Let me.” As slow as I can without putting him to sleep, I unbutton his dress shirt.
One by one.
When the last button is loose and his cuffs are open, I slide the shirt down his shoulders, my fingers skimming his skin. The same time the shirt hits the floor, I make my move. Kissing him along his collar bone from one side to the other, I grind against his hardening cock. He groans, digging his fingers into my waist. Moving him backwards toward the bed, I push him down once we’re close enough. With nimble fingers, I find the button of his pants. He stares up at me, but doesn’t attempt to intervene. Once I have the zipper down, I grip his pants by the cuffs and pull.
Ethan pants on the bed, lying in only his boxer briefs. His erection strains against the tight confines of the fabric. Smiling, I raise my arms, skimming my fingers across my neck. Pushing the dress off my shoulders, I let it fall, pooling at my feet. I step out, standing in front of him in black lace panties, a garter belt, and the thigh-highs he loved so much. The dress was so low cut, I couldn’t wear a bra.
His reaction is more than I hoped for. His eyes widen and his mouth forms the perfect O as he moans. Satisfied, I continue my seduction.
He moves to sit up, but I push him back down. Groaning, his eyes flicker with desire. I need him to let his guard down, and this is one way I know how to do that. Straddling his legs, I kneel, making sure to leave my heels on. Guys dig a chick in lace and heels.
Slow and concise, I drag his boxer briefs down his legs until they fall to the floor, allowing his erection to spring loose. I must say, I’m impressed. I didn’t think it would be worth my time. My fingers roam up his leg until I reach his cock. I tease him, running my fingertips along his skin just enough to feel the sensation. Lifting his head off the bed, he watches me, fascinated.
Following the trail, my tongue matches the course.
Kissing.
Nipping.
Sucking my way up his thigh, until I reach his balls. The sound that leaves his throat is one of agonizing pleasure. Gripping his rock-hard cock in my hands, I place my lips around his length. My eyes flicker upward to Ethan. Watching me watch him is too much for him, and his eyes roll to the back of his head before it flops down on the mattress.
I continue my hedonistic pleasure, taking him in as far as I can without gagging. Up and down, over and over, while massaging his balls with my fingers.
His moans turn into groans.
Groans turn into profanity.
“Fuck, Deloris. You have the most amazing mouth,” he gasps, his breath coming in short pants.
Pulling his cock out of my mouth with a pop, I crawl up the bed, sucking my way up to his neck. Position myself so I’m straddling him, I lean down and whisper, “Where are your condoms?”
His arm flies to the bedside table, opening the drawer with the tips of his fingers. His excitement increases exponentially as he pants harder and harder. I lean across him, plucking one of the wrapped cellophane packages and releasing the rubber protector from its prison. Shifting back, I pinch the end of the condom, then roll it down his length.
With my eyes focused on Ethan’s, I lift my ass and position his cock at my entrance. I hover for a minute. “Is this what you want?” I ask, teasing the head of his dick against my clit.
“Oh God, yes,” he growls.
“Are you sure?” I challenge. “You don’t seem like you want it.” I shift, waiting for his response.
“I’m so fucking sure,” he hisses through his teeth.
Splaying my left hand across his chest, I shift my panties to the side, and sink down on his cock. As much as I hate to admit it, it feels good. Ethan groans as I start to move, bouncing my ass up and down his shaft. He’s splayed out across the bed, gripping the comforter. Even if I were to chase an orgasm, he’d get there way before I will.
I pick up the pace, giving him the fuck of his life. His lids close as his body tenses. “Oh, fuck,” he swears like a litany as I continue to pound down on his cock. The moaning changes to desperate grunts before he grips my hips and thrusts with the ferocity of a feral animal. His eyes roll to the back of his head as he finds his release.
Allowing Ethan a minute to catch his breath, I lift myself off him. As he pants hard, I shift my panties back where they belong. “I’m thirsty. I’m going to get something to drink. What would you like me to bring you back?” I move so I’m standing next to him, allowing him to caress my stomach with the back of his hand.
“Whatever,” he gasps. “I’ll . . . take . . . anything.”
Reaching down, I bring the top of his hand to my lips and place a chaste kiss on his skin. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.” I exit the bedroom and rummage through his cabinets, finding a dark liquor that will work perfectly. Filling the amber liquid half way up each of the two rocks glass I found in another cabinet, I reach into my purse on the counter and grab the tranquilizer. Pouring it into his glass, I toss the vial back into my bag, then reach into the freezer for a few ice cubes. With a few stirs, the powder dissolves without a trace.
I shimmy back into the bedroom with a glass in each hand and sit on the edge of the bed. He shifts to the side as I hand him his glass. “I’m glad you left on those thigh-highs” he murmurs before taking a sip.
“Would you like me to keep them on for the next round?” I challenge, swirling the ice cube around my glass.
His teeth graze his upper lip as his cock twitches. Draining his glass, he reaches over and places it on the bedside table. “No. I want you naked underneath me. I want to see all of your body.”
It won’t take long for the drugs to set in. Just long enough for me to go to the bathroom. When I come back, he should be out like a light. Taking a sip of the cool amber liquid, I say, “Hold that thought. I need to use the restroom. I’ll be right back.”
I saunter out of the room, giving him a show as I leave. The more relaxed he is, the quicker he’ll be unconscious. I enter the bathroom and wait. Counting the minutes in my head, I give myself fifteen before exiting. When I enter the bedroom again, he’s out cold.
Flinging off my heels, I get comfortable to start searching his bedroom.
His drawers.
His closet.
Under his bed.
Anywhere he could possibly hide something.
When that room comes up empty, I move to his study. Finding his computer, I fire it up. Like the computer in his office, I find it password protected and look around his desk for an encryption key. With luck on my side, I find it written on a post-it inside of the first drawer I open.
Once I’m logged in, I open file after file, and come up empty. I move to his email, and check message after message, with no positive result.
Maybe he’s not involved.
Maybe the Company is wrong.
No.
The Company is never wrong.
Shit. That means I need to go back to the office and look around again. I was hoping I’d find something here, but there’s nothing. Walking back into the bathroom, I rummage through Ethan’s pockets and find his identification card.
Now that I have the means to move around inside the building, I need to figure how I’ll get in from the outside.
Just outside Ethan’s apartment is a duffel bag hidden behind the bushes with some necessities inside.
I pull out a gun, which I hope I won’t need to use tonight, and two floppy disks—one for copying files and the other has a program used for cracking passwords. It works by recovering passwords from data that’s been stored in or transmitted by a computer system.
Last, I pull out a pair of flats. Running in heels isn’t something I like to do, so I prepared ahead.
Just in case.
I strap the gun to the inside of my thigh, making sure it’s easily accessible, then shove the floppy disks into my purse. After switching out my shoes, I toss the duffel back into the shrubs. Armed with Ethan’s ID, I hurry toward Black Mountain. The tranquilizer lasts a few hours, so I either need to be back in his bed before it wears off or on a plane.
I stand in the exact same spot I was the other evening, watching the guards walk around the chain link fence. Do I try to just walk in like I own the place, pretending I need something from my office? Or do I break in?
I choose option A. If they turn me away, I still have the opportunity to sneak in. Standing tall, I proceed to the guard booth.
I don’t recognize him, and he stops me before I can enter.
Game on.
“I need to get into my office,” I whimper, whipping up some fake tears. “Mr. Sawyer needs a file I left here, and I don’t want to get fired.” He regards me for a minute, his eyes landing on my breasts as I heave in fear. “We were at dinner, and I was supposed to bring the file.” A sob escapes my throat, and I cover my mouth with my hand.
“Where’s your ID?” the guard asks.
This might just work.
With shaking hands, I reach into my purse and pull out my ID, keeping Ethan’s safely tucked away. Glancing at the identification, then at me, he hands it back. “No one’s supposed to be in the building after hours,” he mutters as I place my badge in my bag.
“Please, I need this job,” I insist. My eyes lift to his as another sob releases. His eyes soften, and he sighs.
“You’ve got twenty minutes to get up to your office and back down,” he huffs.
“Thank you so much! You have no idea how much this means to me,” I blurt as he turns to open the gate. Once the opening is wide enough, I slip through before he changes his mind.
One problem down, countless more to go. If I don’t find what I need tonight, I’m fucked. Nothing will stop Ethan from finding out I was here.
Walking through the main entrance, I maneuver toward the elevators. No one’s on this floor, and I’m hoping there’s no one on mine either. Not knowing if me using Ethan’s card will set off any silent alarms in the building, or notifications to the security staff, I cross my fingers, insert the ID into the slot underneath the floor numbers, and push my floor. If there’s a problem, I’ll find out soon enough.
The elevator opens, and I hustle to Ethan’s office door. I insert his badge in the slot under the doorknob and it beeps in approval.
Creaking open the door, I confirm his office is empty, slide through, and close it behind me. Knowing I need to be quick, I rush to his computer and turn it on. Typing in his password, I wait for the hard drive to boot. Once I see the welcome screen, I start searching.
I open file after file, but the answer’s always the same.
Nothing.
There’s nothing here.
There’s nothing at his apartment.
What. The. Fuck.
If the Company says they know there’s something illegal going on, then there is . . . I just need to think outside the box. Maybe Ethan has nothing to do with it.
What if I’ve been sent on a wild goose chase?
What if I’ve been purposely led in the opposite direction—a direction they want me to go?
I’m running out of options—and time.
Searching my brain, I scramble to come up with another viable option. I could try to get into Mr. Greystone’s office, but he’d be stupid to have any incriminating evidence on his own computer. So . . . who’s would he use?
That bitch downstairs.
Julia.
She’s the head secretary.
She’s expendable.
Rushing back to the elevator, I scramble to her office and put the floppy disk with the password cracker in the slot. Within thirty seconds, I’m in.
I search all her emails, and find nothing.
Search all her file folders, and find nothing.
It isn’t until a file hiding within another file draws my attention. It’s labeled travel expenses, but there’s already a travel expense folder. Clicking the mouse, I open the file.
Saved emails from Mr. Greystone and someone named Abdul Afuw Zamani pop up. The more I read, the more the name Abdul Afuw jumps to the front of my brain. Realization finally takes hold, and I gasp. He’s suspected of being an Al-Qaeda terrorist. I read his name on the watch list a few weeks ago. Just being a militant isn’t an imminent threat, but our new intel claims this Abdul Afuw guy is now a field commander very close with Osama Bin Laden. This is bad.
Just before I click print on all the emails, one catches my attention. It’s not the information in the email that grips my heart in panic. It’s the name of who sent it.
Everything starts to make sense.
The guard at the gate chasing me.
The guard who tried to strangle me in my apartment.
He’ll pay for this.
Closing the emails, I shift to another file folder. A list of all the guns and ammunition with the prices paid comes into view, as well as banking information and routing numbers.
Bingo.
As I wait for the files to transfer to the floppy disk, I decide to copy them. Just in case. When the last file downloads, a red dot appears on my computer screen.
Red dot.
Fuck!
Diving, I hit the floor as a bullet shatters the window and the computer. Staying low, I seize the papers from the printer and shove them in my purse. I crawl along the floor until I reach the door. Stretching, my fingers skim the doorknob just enough to open it.