Chapter 24

Emi

Walker’s going to kill me.

There’s no other choice. In order for this to work, I have to be near her. Maren’s carefully calculated plan needs to have both of us in the same vicinity to ensure all transmission of the videos files come through before she deletes them and uploads the virus.

Unfortunately, this means I must be close when she seduces ‘Felix’ until the laxatives kick in. Once he’s indisposed, we can get busy. With our trial run-throughs, it’s taken us no less than ten minutes to cover our process. We’ve had to assume a timetable on a few critical items, such as finding the files in his phone, which is why Maren needs her computer to run a program to locate them and transfer to her laptop without leaving a trace.

It has been two weeks since Walker and I returned from his cabin, which seems like a lifetime ago. Things at work started to heat up and fall into place with his drug case. He was working long hours, sometimes through the night. When he got a few hours to sleep, he usually met me at my house and passed out on my couch as I worked close by. Then he was off again, leaving most of my evenings with Maren, where we slaved over discovering more about Felix.

It didn’t take long for Maren to get his attention. She actively pursued him, claiming she was a young divorcee looking to meet a man who could salvage her opinion of all mankind. He took the challenge.

It also helped that she constantly dropped hints about her wealth and luxurious living. He was now a clinger, constantly messaging her for a chance to meet face to face and ‘show her how a real man appreciates a woman’.

Each night, she’s spent hours on the computer with him under the alias Hanna Spencer, all the while running programs to find his IP address. In no time, we knew his identity.

Ricky Sharp is a thirty-five-year-old investment banker from Atlanta. He relocated here for a job two years ago and lives in a high dollar condo downtown. It’s easy to understand how he could catch the eye of any woman looking to find her confidence after a divorce, he’s a suave manipulator. Maren’s interactions with him are proof.

I’ve weighed the options of bogging Walker down with all the details, but seeing as he’s so pre-occupied, the little time we do have together, I try to not discuss TA business.

But, tonight, I have to tell him because Maren’s scheduled their date for tomorrow night.

“Emi!” Walker calls as the front door slams behind him.

Here goes nothing. I peer around the room to make sure everything’s in place and give myself a mental pep talk before answering, “In your kitchen, honey.”

He stops at the entrance, surveying the room, before his heated eyes land on mine. “Get naked.”

“W-w-what? Why?”

“Because I can tell a set up when I see one. I have exactly eight hours before I have to leave again for the station. I know you, Emi, and something’s changed with your grand plan to easily catch a con man. I’m going to use each of those four hundred and eighty minutes to try to talk you out of whatever you have on your mind.”

“But I made dinner.”

“You’re going to be my dinner.”

A little tremble runs up and down my skin as my nipples begin to tingle. He starts toward me, his eyes burning deeper with every step. I stay planted until he’s pressed so close the heat from his body seeps into mine.

“Naked now.”

“Maybe we should—”

“Fine, I’ll do it.” He bends, gathering the hem of my sundress, and in a single swoosh, it’s gone, leaving me in nothing but a pair of blue skimpy panties. His fingers hook the sides and snap the material before I can protest.

His mouth comes to mine at the same time his fingertips slide between my legs and start to stroke. He teases me, gliding them back and forth, his thumb circling my clit as his tongue swirls. I fumble with his belt, button, and zipper before I can reach inside his pants and find him hard and thick, the hot skin pulsing at my touch. My thumb follows the same movements as his, playing with him.

He jerks his mouth away and drops to his knees, forcing me to release him. One arm goes to my waist to steady me as he hikes one leg over his shoulder. Electric sparks ignite the instant his tongue swipes along my center.

He sucks hard then plunges his tongue inside, causing my hands to fly to his head to keep my balance. His mouth moves against me like a man starved for days. I thrash against his face, clawing at his scalp as my blood starts to scorch. My stomach muscles clench, trying to hold back, delirious with the feeling of him devouring me so expertly.

This is an untamed side of Walker I’ve never seen or experienced. It’s no secret how I respond to his every touch, but tonight, his dominance is the ultimate turn on. Moans of pleasure fall from my mouth as I writhe against him, chasing the orgasm that is seconds away.

The tip of his tongue flicks over my clit several times before he sucks it between his lips, and I fly apart, screaming his name until my throat is raw.

He doesn’t stop, but eases on the pressure, kissing me gently, licking in circles, and running his stubble against my inner thigh, which he knows I love so much. When my head stops spinning, I look down to see his eyes trained on mine, blazing bright.

Slowly, he places my leg back on the floor and skims his lips up my body until he’s standing before me again.

“That didn’t even take the edge off.” He starts walking us backwards, me now clinging to his forearms, mesmerized by the growing hunger in his gaze.

When we reach his bedroom, he steps away only long enough to strip himself, then lays us down, caging me beneath him. My legs wrap around his waist, my ankles locking together as he sinks into me and stills.

“If I asked you not to do whatever it is you’re planning, would you say yes?” The dominance from moments ago is gone. His eyes still glow with lust, but his movements are gentler, more controlled.

“Yes, I would do anything for you.” I mean every word.

He closes his eyes, his face tensing as he struggles with whatever is going through his mind. When he opens them again, the smoldering blue-green stare makes my heart skip a beat.

“When is it happening?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“I’ll be close.”

“You’re not going to try to convince me not to do it?”

“I was, but that would make me an asshole. When I walked in tonight and saw your face, that was my goal. But that’s not us. You don’t need to soften the details for me. I want it straight. I’m going to be there to make sure you’re safe, then bring you right back home to this bed, knowing you are done with that slime-sucking asshole.”

“Okay.”

He starts to move, speaking to me without words with every thrust. The air around us changes as he takes turns speeding up and slowing down, his eyes never wavering. He makes love to me gently—kissing, caressing, covering me with so much love—exactly like our first time.

My head is spinning with the drastic change of attitude and shift in moods. Then it dawns on me; his life is in chaos. The case, the drugs, Trixsters… the usually controlled man can’t grip what is happening around him. He’s waging a battle inside, trying to gain ground. It’s my job to reassure him that I will be safe.

“I’ll be safe, then I’ll be right back in this bed. With you,” I say softly, flexing my fingers through his hair.

He exhales, the tension leaving his body. I let him control the pace, feeling every stroke throughout my body until I can’t hold back any more and arch into him, the orgasm ripping through me. He drives into me once more then calls my name, letting go and placing his mouth to mine.

Our hearts beat together as I cling to him, pouring all my love into the kiss. He breaks away gently, covers my face with small pecks, then rolls to his back, turning us so I drape across him.

“Promise me you’ll be careful and abort the mission if anything looks like it isn’t working.”

Something in his tone sets off alarm bells in my head. I tilt my face back to see his. Gone is the gentle aftermath from seconds before. “Walker, are we still talking about me here?”

He runs his fingers through my hair, never taking his eyes from the ceiling. “I’m leaving on Sunday, two weeks, possibly three. I have to know you’ll be careful while I’m gone. I can’t be fully focused on my job if I’m worrying about you being caught spying on a lying husband or wandering into a BDSM club.”

This explains the mercurial mood swing from earlier. I was right; his mind is in chaos.

“After tomorrow night, Maren and I will only do minimal Trixsters business until you return.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, I need you to be completely honest with me. Are you in danger?”

He lowers his eyes to mine, and the expression on his face knocks the breath out of me.

“Not yet.”

“But you could be?” The words sear my throat, which is closing.

“I could be,” he confirms.

My heart, head, and stomach all spasm at the same time. The weight of his job crashes into me. He sees the panic ensuing and curls his hand around my face, kissing my forehead lightly.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m trained for this.”

“You’re scaring the shit out of me.”

“I’m going to marry you, Emerson Leigh. You’re going to give me a family, and I’m going to give you everything you’ve ever wanted. There’s no way I’d jeopardize that.”

Now, my eyes and nose start to prickle, and I swallow hard to force back the emotions. There’s so much he’s not telling me, so much he can’t. There’s more than danger on his mind, and I want to beg on my knees for him to stay with me, not leave. But I can’t do that to him.

“I’d say yes, too.” He reads my mind.

“I’d never ask. This is the man you are.”

“But if it meant losing you, I’d leave the team, forget the drugs, the takedown, the entire operations, and go back to being a cop.”

I suck in a sob, knowing this is too much. This strong, dedicated, fiercely determined man is saying he’d give up his career for me. My heart shatters from overwhelming love.

Instead of bursting into tears, I channel my inner sass. “You know, I’d walk out the door and find another incredibly hot town detective.”

He sees right through my act and grips my face a little firmer, his lips tipping in a small smile. “That will never happen.”

Everything’s in place. The suite we rented for Maren looks like she’s been living in it for a while. Clothes are scattered, the bathroom is littered with her essentials, and the stage is set. More importantly, the remote VPNs are established. All she has to do is get ‘Robert’, who is actually Ricky, here so we can execute this and kick him the hell out.

I listen into my earpiece and hear them leaving the restaurant across the street. We planted a listening device in her necklace, so I knew exactly what was happening. Maren has invited him up for a drink, and he’s taken the bait. This is my cue to get into my hiding place in the oversized closet. The transmission is replaced with static in the elevator and then returns when they exit.

I crouch in a corner where my phones are stashed and wait. The door to the suite opens, and they walk in, Maren apologizing again for the fact they are in a hotel. She lays it on thick, explaining that, until her lawyer can get the divorce finalized, she can’t buy a home. Ricky sympathizes with her, walking around to take in the surroundings.

She fixes them a drink, him closing in on her, taking the glass, and wrapping an arm around her waist. From my position, I can see them clearly. It’s unfortunate he’s a lying, douchelord, asshole, because he really is handsome.

Then he opens his mouth, and I’m reminded exactly why we’re here.

“Two weeks, Hanna… For two weeks, you’ve taunted me with the idea of having you. Every night after I sign off that computer, I stroke my cock to the thought of you sucking my dick and forcing you to swallow my cum deep in your throat.”

Eww… doesn’t this asshole know it’s a choice?

Maren’s only response is a girly giggle, which encourages him to go on. He clumsily moves his hand from her waist to the back of her head, urging her to look at him.

“Have you ever been with a PPE before Hanna?”

She shakes her head slowly, sucking her bottom lip in her mouth and looking as innocent as she can.

“Do you know what a PPE is?”

She repeats the motion, this time widening her eyes with curiosity.

“Professional Pussy Eater. I’m going to treat you to a night of pure bliss and ecstasy.” His voice drops to a growl, his confidence growing. “All night long.”

I roll my eyes and gag. Does this really work on women?

“Robert, I think we may be moving a little fast. This is our first date.” Her voice is laced with a sugary sweetness meant to encourage him further.

“Don’t think, Hanna, just feel. Feel what you do to me.” He bucks his hips into her thigh, where he’s undoubtedly sporting an erection.

She does the annoying giggle again until he shuts her up by kissing her. He’s aggressive in his approach, not soothing his way at all. It’s painful to watch as he slops over her lips, still holding his drink in the other hand. He doesn’t even have the decency to put his glass down and properly kiss her. The sound of slurping and sucking fills the space until she whimpers. He mistakes her protest for passion and slants his head to go deeper.

I cringe in sympathy for Maren, and any other woman who has had to endure this. Watching him in action is painful. In my experience with Walker, the way a man kisses is indicative of how he performs in other areas. There is no way Robert-slash-Ricky is a PPE.

Maren doesn’t waver, continuing to kiss him and sliding her hands to his belt. He finally breaks away, and I can see her face is swollen from her top lip to her chin where he has left his marks.

She takes his drink and sets it down, then starts to unbutton his shirt. “I’m usually not into sex on the first date. I’m known as a good girl,” she tells him, sliding the shirt off his shoulders.

“I’ll take it as a challenge to change your mind. I’m crazy about you, Hanna. You’ve consumed my thoughts since the first night we talked. I’m done with online dating. I want you and only you. Let me prove that to you tonight and show you that your husband was an idiot for letting you go.”

Here comes the sweet talking.

He toes off his shoes and rips off his socks when her hands go to his belt. Slowly, she undoes his belt and pants until they fall into a pile on the floor and he steps out of them, revealing the snuggest pair of black nut-huggers I’ve ever seen. I swallow my laughter, unsure how she’s keeping a straight face.

Then I start to worry. It’s been at least almost two hours since they met for drinks and dinner. She slipped the laxative in his cocktail before they even sat down. It should be kicking in by now.

He leans in to kiss her again right when it happens. His stomach gurgles loudly, and he doubles over in pain, holding his side.

“Robert!” she cries, bending to help him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he chokes out, clutching himself. “Stomach cramp.”

“Let me help you sit.”

Once she gets him to the small sofa, she rushes to get him a bottle of water. While he’s not watching, she bumps her computer, bringing it to life. I type a few things into my phone then wait.

“Here, drink this.”

He takes the water, chugging the bottle. “Thank you.”

His stomach rumbles again violently, and his face pales. “I need to use your restroom.”

Concern fills her face as she helps him to the vast bathroom across the suite. “Let me know if I can do anything,” she tells him before shutting the door.

It takes only a few seconds before the most grotesque sounds come from behind the door. Then she’s on the move, yanking his keys and phone from his pants on the floor. In a flash, she has his phone connected to her computer, and my phone starts blinking with incoming messages. I do exactly as she taught me, and in under six minutes, we have everything we need: the videos, the false identity profiles, and his passwords. She snaps in the air, signaling for me to send the virus to her, which she uploads from her TA phone to his online dating profile.

To any unsuspecting person, it looks like an incoming email, but it’s deadly to his operating system. I find it almost scary how smart Maren is.

The toilet flushes over and over with a few moans in between. She runs to the edge of the closet with her eyes trained on the bathroom door.

“Got it?”

“I’ve got it,” I whisper.

Then she hurries back to the computer, unplugging his phone and placing it back in his pants. I’m surprised to see her unlatch something from his keys until I realize it’s a thumb drive. She skillfully uploads all its contents and replaces that as well.

Calmly, she walks to the door and knocks. “Robert, are you okay?”

“Not really, something didn’t agree with me at dinner. I need a few more minutes. Then I’ll be out, baby.”

Baby? Is he truly that arrogant to think someone would have sex with him after hearing this?

“Of course, there’s some medicine under the cabinet if you need it.”

He mumbles thanks right before the god-awful sounds start up again.

Maren uses this time to search through his wallet and takes out his ID and a few credit cards, laying them on the desk and taking pictures. When everything is back in place, she fluffs her jet-black wig and starts pacing.

Another five minutes passes before he emerges from the bathroom, white as a sheet and glistening with sweat.

“Oh, Robert, you look awful.” She rushes to him, placing a hand to his forehead. “And you’re so clammy.”

“I’ll feel better in a bit. Let’s lie down. I bet you know a few ways to help heal me.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

Maren gives a nervous laugh, stepping away and reaching for his pants. “Maybe we should postpone our night. You’re sick, and I really don’t want to catch a bug.”

Right as she speaks, his stomach gurgles again. He rips his pants from her and races back to the bathroom. We’re forced to sit through another torturous listening experience until Maren finally turns on the TV to drown out what’s happening.

When he emerges again, he hobbles to the bed and takes his shirt she laid there a few minutes ago. “I think you’re right. I may need to go home.”

“It’s for the best. Maybe you’ll feel better by tomorrow.” Her voice drips with sincerity.

Halfway through buttoning his shirt, his head flies up, and he pins Maren with laser focus. “Why aren’t you sick?”

“What?”

“We ate the same things, drank the same wine. You should be sick, too.”

She thinks quick, her hand cradling her stomach. “Actually, I do feel a little off.”

His head twists around, eyes surveying the room and then landing back on her. From my spot, I can see the suspicion in his features.

My own stomach rolls when he stands up and pats his pockets, then stalks to her. “What did you do?” he demands to know.

“What are you talking about?”

“My wallet, why were you in my wallet?”

“I wasn’t.” She winces, trying to wiggle free of his hold. “You’re hurting me.”

“Are you trying to rob me? Is this a set up?”

“NO!” She struggles more.

“My wallet goes in my left pocket, always. But somehow, now, it’s in my right? What were you doing in my wallet?”

“I wasn’t, it fell out when I picked up your pants,” she tries to tell him.

“Bullshit!”

His rage starts to grow, and I know we’re in trouble. Maren stomps on his foot, but he doesn’t let her go.

“You think you can play me?”

“No, get out, you lunatic!” she screams, still battling to get out of his hold.

“I’ll get out when I’m done with you. Tell me, what were you doing in my wallet?”

“Nothing!” she repeats frantically.

“You’re lying!”

“I’m not the liar!”

I weigh my options, ready to pop out when he jerks her hard and throws her against the wall, looking around again. It takes a split second to type my text.

Me- SOS SOS! 911! Room 824!

Walker- Stay put. DO NOT do anything stupid.

Ricky storms through the room, stopping at her desk and punching a few keys into her keyboard.

“What’s your password?”

“Like I’d tell you. Get out or I’ll call security!” Maren runs to the door.

He pounces, catching her around the middle and smacking her face so hard she yells in pain. My instant reaction is to protect her. I leap up, ready to reveal myself and beat the hell out of him, when there’s a banging on the door.

“What the fuck?” Ricky makes the mistake of loosening his grip enough for Maren to knee him in the balls. He howls in pain, letting go, and she races to the door, throwing it open. From my position, I can’t see exactly what is happening, but as soon as Walker speaks, his anger booms through the room.

“What the fuck is happening in here?” he roars, my skin pricking at his rage.

“Who are you?” Ricky demands to know.

“I’m Detective Walker Scott. Who the FUCK are you?”

This is where Ricky makes a colossal mistake, rising up and puffing out his chest. “What the hell do you want?”

Walker walks further into the room, followed by Marcus who looks like he’s about to lose his mind. His hands clench at his side as he stares at Ricky with such hatred, I’m afraid for the guy.

“I ask the questions.”

“You can’t barge in here—”

“You the occupant of this room?” Walker cuts him off.

“No, I am,” Maren offers.

“We’re gonna need your permission to search this room.”

“For what?” Ricky keeps going.

“Drugs,” Walker deadpans.

“You’re a fucking drug dealer?” Ricky directs his question to Maren. “Not only are you a tease and a thief, you’re a druggie?”

Maren’s actually speechless, her eyes bulging. “I’m not any of those things!”

“You bitch!” Ricky finally stands straight and goes to the door, but Walker catches him by the arm.

“You think you’re going somewhere?”

“Hell yes, I’m outta here.”

“Not until I see your wallet and ID.”

“Not happening.” His confidence starts to waver when his stomach goes crazy again and he hurls over in pain.

“Jesus Christ, what’s that smell?” Marcus scowls and Ricky pales.

“My date blew out his ass tonight,” Maren tell them with a straight face.

“Fuck me.” Walker drops his head to hide his smile.

Ricky doesn’t reply because he’s hobbling back to the bathroom.

“Are you okay?” Walker goes to Maren, gently tilting her face to get a good look.

“Yes, but I’ve never been struck by a man before.”

“You never will be again, if I have a say so.” Marcus joins them with a bar towel filled with ice. He places it against her cheek.

Walker comes to the closet and finds me cramped in the corner. “Stay here until I get this guy out of here.”

I’m trembling too hard to respond.

Walker plants his feet, crosses his arms, and glowers at the bathroom door until it opens. Ricky emerges looking better; he’s straightened his clothes, splashed water on his face, and restyled his hair. Most of his color has returned. That is, until he catches Walker’s death glare.

“You make it a habit to hit women?” Walker’s voice is sharp and hard, full of hatred.

“I don’t know what she told you, but—”

“There’s a handprint on her cheek. She didn’t have to say anything. I should haul your ass in for assault.”

“This woman tried to steal from me.”

Walker makes a show of looking at Maren for confirmation, and she violently shakes her head in denial.

“Hand me your wallet, now.” Walker holds out his hand.

“Don’t you have drugs to look for?” Ricky smarts back.

“Now.”

Ricky reluctantly takes it out of his pocket and hands it over. Walker goes through it, taking out his ID and taking a picture with his phone. Then he looks at Maren again.

“Ma’am, do you want to press charges again Ricky Sharpe for assault?”

Maren plays right into the game, her jaw dropping and eyes bulging again. “Ricky Sharpe? He told me his name was Robert!”

“Is that true?” Walker looks at him for clarification.

“What do you care? She’s a lying, conniving bitch that—”

“That has a handprint on her cheek and a swelling lip. So, I suggest you watch your words.”

“No, I don’t want to press charges. I just want him gone.” Maren fakes a sob.

Walker blows out a breath and hands his wallet back. “Ricky, looks like the lady is giving you a pass. I’m not feeling so generous. Get your ass out of here, but don’t be surprised if you receive a visit tomorrow.”

Ricky snatches his wallet back and shoots Maren an evil glare before hauling ass out the door. As soon as it slams, I’m on my feet and in front of Maren.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. He got a cheap shot on me.”

I take the cloth that Marcus is holding and survey the damage. The area’s still red, but there is no visible bruising.

“I want to kill him,” I announce, not caring Walker’s in law enforcement.

“Me too,” Marcus adds.

“Truly, I’m fine,” she reassures us.

“Emi, get over here,” Walker orders, and I comply, throwing my arms around his shoulders and resting my head in the crook of his neck.

“Thank you.”

“I swore to myself I wasn’t going to interfere. I SWORE I was going to let you live your life, but I’m changing my mind. No more, do you hear me? No more of these half-cocked schemes. If you were in Maren’s place, and a man struck you, he’d be laid out on the ground right now, fighting to live.”

I want to argue, but now is not the time. I know what he said is true, and tonight could have gotten out of hand if he didn’t save us. “All right.”

“Maren, you too.”

“Okay,” she wisely agrees.

He hugs me close, placing his mouth to my ear. “I’m not kidding, Emi. If that would have been you, I’d have lost my shit.”

“I know.”

He lets out a deep breath, squeezing me so tight I fight for air.

“My offer still stands to pay for your PI licenses. I’ll even throw in self-defense classes,” Marcus offers, which causes Maren to laugh.

I’m scared to respond, until I feel Walker’s chest vibrating.

“Why don’t we talk more about it when I get back in a few weeks. Maybe when the scene we walked into isn’t so fresh in my head?” Walker suggests.

“Got it,” Marcus concedes. “Now, can we get your stuff and get the hell out of this room? I don’t know what you gave that guy, but it fucking reeks in here.”

Now, I do join them in laughing, thankful that Marcus found a way to break the icy tension in the room.