Chapter Sixteen

JORI

I stayed in the kitchen and cleaned up until I saw Sam again in the entryway. Why had I touched her? When her lips had only been a memory, it was easier to resist her. Now it felt as if I was tormenting myself for no reason.

I turned and walked towards the door. Sam stared at herself in the full-length mirror.

"I've been thinking about getting a belly button ring," she said, modestly pulling down her shirt. It immediately rode up again, exposing a thin line of flesh and her sexy navel.

"Why would you do something like that?" I said. The thought of her getting a piercing annoyed me. The concept of altering your body for jewelry was unknown on Vandwa.

"I think it's edgy, and I would look cute. What do you think?" she asked. I thought she was playing me again, but I had to respond.

"It doesn't sound like a good idea to me. It would ruin your perfect skin."

"So what? Why do you care what I do with my belly button?"

"Because I'm your husband," I said. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I knew I had lost control of the conversation.

"Oh yeah? Prove it to me."

"What do you mean?"

"I have needs, you know. It's your job to take care of them. You're not acting like a proper husband at all," she said. There was a trace of bitterness in her eyes. She was bothered by my refusal to touch her. I wondered if she felt rejected or believed I didn't want her.

A moment later, before I knew what I was doing, I had her pushed up against the door with my hands on her hips.

"Oh yeah?" I whispered, inhaling her sweet scent. "What should I do to act like your husband?" I was a fool. With her, I might always be a fool.

"You should kiss me," she murmured.

I couldn't help myself. I found my lips were on hers, and our arms were around each other. She made a sexy noise at the back of her throat and pushed her hips towards mine. I could escape my job, but I wouldn't be able to avoid Sam.

My hands drifted lower to cup her firm, round buttocks. Our kiss was heating up, and I felt excitement spreading through my body. I wanted her badly, but the timing wasn't right. We couldn't be late when we needed information from Farrell.

Regretfully, I pulled away. She sighed.

"We have to be punctual, Sam," I said. "This is too good of a party to miss."

She knew what I meant, and she nodded. She understood the subtext of my comment. "I wouldn't want you to be late for your party," she said. "But you owe me, Mr. Lachlan."

I watched her as she walked out the door and down the hall, my entire being aware of the movements of her body. I intended to pay her fully with interest.

"I didn't know parties could fill me with apprehension," Sam muttered as we walked through the entrance of the big house. It didn't drip opulence like the other parties. On the other hand, everywhere I looked, details from the furniture to the wall decorations denoted wealth.

As we walked past a couple kissing in the hallway, Sam zipped up her hoodie. The man kissing the woman's neck managed to ogle Sam in her tight T-shirt. When I glared at him, he pretended not to notice. I didn't want him to think of touching my woman. It enraged me to know that he was probably thinking lustful thoughts already.

We wandered through the house. Everywhere we went, we saw people either drinking or getting high. In some rooms, they were dancing sensually. The only things preventing them from vertically fucking were the clothes they wore. In other rooms, people were having conversations or participating in drinking games. Smoke permeated the air in the house, and I tried not to inhale.

"Am I getting high from the smoke in the house?" Sam whispered to me. "I feel dizzy."

"Derali is powerful stuff. Hold your breath."

"I hope we don't have to be here long. I did a tour of the drinking and drugs scene when I was younger. I don't need to be a part of it anymore. What do we have to do we find your 'friend' and get out of here?"

Privately, I agreed with her. There was another complication. The more inebriated these people got, the more dangerous they became. Sam didn't know the reputations of the men and women in this house, but some of them were animals.

I was glad she didn't know about this crowd. There was no reason to scare her unnecessarily. It was still early. Most people had themselves under control.

"How do you know this fellow?" she said. "He doesn't seem like your type at all."

I appreciated the vote of confidence.

"It's a long story," I said. My eyes were looking around the room, never stopping their search for Farrell. I realized she hadn't said anything for a while. When I turned my head, I realized she was glowering at me.

"I met him in my teens, during my rebellious phase. These people were kind of my crowd back then," I muttered.

I grabbed Sam's hand. If he wasn't around here, I knew where he would be. We walked upstairs and down a long hall until we came to a room filled with books.

"A library? Is Farrell a bookworm?"

"He reads a little," I said, shaking my head. "But this room has secrets."

I let go of her hand and went to a particular blue book. When I took it off the shelf, there was a soft click in the room when a latch sprang free.

Samantha drew in a breath of surprise behind me as a door opened. A section of the bookshelves swung inward, showing a stairway descending into darkness.

"That was impressive," she whispered. "A secret passage? This party is getting cooler by the second."

I grinned at her and stepped into the opening. She followed me as we sauntered down the stairs.

When we arrived at a door, I hesitated. Sam looked nonplussed. There were moans, grunts, and the sound of something banging rhythmically against the wall coming from the room.

I shrugged my shoulders and sat down on the floor in the hallway. Farrell had said his door was always open. It was closed now, and I didn't want to open it if he was with a woman.

A few minutes later, a female voice screamed, and a male voice groaned after a few seconds. After that, there was nothing but silence.

"Now what?" Sam whispered.

I shrugged. I didn't have time to waste. I had given him enough privacy. I got up and knocked on the door.

There was some grumbling from the room, and then a disheveled-looking woman wearing a man's shirt opened the door. Sam averted her eyes. Farrell sat up in the bed. He was shirtless, smoking something, and looked satisfied.

"Sary?" He frowned, trying to remember her name. "Sorla?" The woman frowned. "Whatever your name is, sweetie, can you go upstairs now and get yourself something to eat?"

She gave him a deadly glare, but he wasn't paying attention to her anymore.

"Jori! What are you doing here?" he said. He forgot the presence of the nameless woman just like he forgot her name. She stomped away angrily.

"Hey Farrell," I said. "Sorry to walk in on you, man. How do you find these girls who are screaming all the time?"

"Because I'm an animal in bed," he said, smiling smugly at me. "It looks like your taste in women is improving."

He looked Sam over and ran his tongue over his lips. Sam looked disgusted. I wished she was able to hide her emotions more completely, although seeing her reaction made me happy.

"I have a great idea. Want to trade?" he asked.

Samantha made a snort and looked outraged. I put a hand on her arm to reassure her. I would never trade her. From now on, I would be the only male to place his hands on her. A small voice in my head said that if I wanted her to be mine, eventually I would need to be truthful with her and tell her my feelings.

"I don't think so. That doesn't sound like a great idea to me," I said. I felt my expression change, and I knew I didn't look as friendly as before.

He raised his eyebrows and took another puff.

"Is it like that? Fair enough," he said. There was a time not long ago when I would have jumped at the thought of having a new woman in my bed. In the past, we had exchanged often enough for his suggestion to be reasonable. The girls had been willing of course; the women we had hung out with during those years had been free spirits.

Sam deserved better than this, and the mere insinuation was making my ears burn. It was time to get to the point and get out of here. Either he'd help us or he wouldn't.

"Why are you here, Jori? It's not for old time's sake."

"I need your help," I said.

"Of course you do. But what precisely do you need?"

"I want to know where Harrington's holding his next shipment of children."

His face got a look I had seen many times when he was dealing or playing cards. It was his poker face, and it completely hid what he was thinking and feeling.

"What makes you think I know anything about it?"

I was a decent poker player myself, and I had won my fair share of games against him. He would give something away. He always did.

"You know everything," I pointed out. "I am aware he's holding a shipment and waiting for the chance to get them off-planet. I need to know where it is."

"Why?" he said, his eyes piercing my soul. "So you can run off and play hero to get the bad guy? You've been the same ever since you went into the..."

I held up my hand. He rolled his eyes but didn't finish his sentence out of respect for me. Farrell knew about my work with the secret service. They had recruited him as well. Unlike me, he rejected them.

"Ever since then, you've been trying to redeem yourself. You're never going to catch up to Nathaniel, you know. He's too perfect."

"You don't know anything about it."

"Even if I had this information, why would I freely give it to you?"

If he didn't know, he could always find out. My job was to convince him. Sam stood silently beside me watching everything.

"I want out," I said, deciding to tell him the truth. "This is my last job, and then I'm done. It's emotionally draining. I have to stop him. I know what it's like to have your parents taken from you."

He shook his head, and my heart sank. "Not this time, Jori. That's not good enough."

I nodded and turned away from him, feeling defeated. He held all the cards. If he weren't in the mood to tell me, he wouldn't. There was no use arguing.

"What?" Sam said. "We're just leaving?"

"He's not going to tell us anything."

She closed in on him before I could stop her. "Is this a fucking game to you?" she said, stalking over to the bed.

Farrell stared at her in fascination as she tore into him. "You lie there like royalty in your bed and make pronouncements. These are children's lives. Who do you think you are? Why would you stop someone who wants to help them?"

"Sweetie, you need to calm down," he said in apparent amusement. His condescending attitude only made Sam angrier. I didn't think he would be smiling for much longer. I had never seen this side of Sam before, but I should have known it existed.

"Calm down?" she said, raising her voice louder than before. "Other people are depending on Jori. If you're sitting here on your fat ass holding him back, I will not calm down."

"I'm not a bad guy," he began.

"No one think's they're bad, but I get the feeling that you mean well. That only makes your actions more reprehensible. All it takes for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing. The least you could do is give someone your information so they can take action. It costs you nothing to tell us, but you won't. You're a weakling hiding behind your money."

"Hold on a minute," Farrell said. Her last shot had hit too close to home, and he began to frown. "That's uncalled for."

Sam was still talking.

"Don't you miss your mother?" she said. Her voice was a whisper now, and her eyes full of compassion.

Farrell froze. "How do you know I lost my mother?" he said.

"If you hadn't," she said. "You wouldn't be sitting here in your big house with its secret rooms, fucking a woman whose name you don't know and stopping a good man from rescuing children torn away from their parents."

They stared at each other.

"You're right, Jori. Let's go. He isn't going to tell us anything. He's nothing but a coward." She turned back and delivered a final blow. "It's a good thing your mother can't see what you've become."

I tried to play it cool but honestly, I was shocked. I knew she had a feisty side, but this was beyond what I had imagined. She radiated raw power; she was all woman, and to tell the truth, it was turning me on.

I gave Farrell a cold glare and took her hand, leaving without saying another word to my old friend. Sam had said enough for the both of us. She had been eerily accurate about Farrell.

When we reached the stairs and started to climb, we heard footsteps running down the hall behind us.

"Wait," Farrell said to Sam, stretching out his hand to stop her. "You're right. I'll tell you what you want to know."