Authors: Tara Crescent

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Erotica, #Action & Adventure, #Bdsm, #Mystery, #Suspense, #Thrillers, #Romantic Erotica

Bought (16 page)

BOOK: Bought

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“Oh.” I thought for a minute. “This was really nice.”

“Nice?” He sounded outraged, though his eyes twinkled. “Nice? I’ll have to punish you for that.” He chuckled. “Next time.”

“Can I spend the night with you?” It was insane. But I was holding on to him and he made me feel so protected. “Is that allowed?”

He smiled. “Of course, Jenny. Come on. Want to watch a movie in bed?”

I had to giggle. That sounded so normal.

Chapter 20

Ellie / Jenny:

It was probably not good for my mission that I fell asleep in his arms. But when I woke up the next morning, he was gone. Elodie confirmed it. “Monsieur Hamilton had to work, Mademoiselle,” she said. “He left a note for you.”

His note was simple. There was a car at my beck and call. I was to use his credit card whenever I wanted. He would be back in the evening.

I was secretly relieved. I had promised to call Lucien regularly and it had been more than two days since we last spoke. Despite my reassurances, he would be quite worried.

***

“Where have you been?” Lucien’s voice snapped at me. “I’d have expected you to check in sooner.”

“Sorry.” I replied. “It’s not easy to get to a phone.” That part was true, but I left out that I hadn’t tried very hard. “Alexander’s bodyguards follow me and I couldn’t use the phone he gave me.” Right now, I was calling from a phone in a café.

“Figure it out,” he snapped. “Check in every two days.”

“What’s the matter?” I knew Lucien and I could recognize the signs. Something was disconcerting him.

“Nothing about this mission makes sense,” he exhaled. “I still can’t figure out what Hamilton does for Dylan McAllister.”

“He’s his finance guy,” I responded automatically.

“Is he? And why does he personally need to go to Hanoi to visit Dylan? Money moves online nowadays. Everything can be encrypted. Why fly hours and hours to visit in person?”

I didn’t want to think about this. I wanted to stay in my fantasy world. “I don’t know,” I replied. “Why does it matter?”

“Did he ever visit Abeokuta?” Lucien ignored my question and asked one of his own.

“No.” I didn’t want to think about Abeokuta.

“Has Sylvia Anliker visited yet?”

Another topic I didn’t want to think about. “No.”

He heaved a sigh. “Ellie,” he said. “Be careful. I don’t have a good feeling about this. I didn’t want to tell you this, but you know the two girls he bid on at the auction house?”

I felt a prickle of fear and dread at my neck. “Yes."

“I can’t find them. It’s as if they don’t exist.”

Breathe, Ellie, breathe.
“Do you think they are dead?” My voice was flat. Utterly lifeless.

“We have to assume that it’s a possibility. Or perhaps he sold them to a collector.”

A collector? An image of Dylan automatically flashed into my head. Was Alexander Dylan’s procurer? That would explain the in-person visits. Was Alexander the one who had arranged for my kidnapping eight years ago? He would have been in his twenties then. With enough money, anything was possible, and god knows Alexander had enough money and more.

“I can take care of myself,” I said, but it was a lie and I knew it. For just a few days, my fear of Alexander had disappeared as I lived in my little fantasy world. But it was back and stronger than ever.

“Check in every two days,” he said flatly. “Don’t miss a check-in, or I’ll have to act.”

I felt a spiral of panic coil in my belly. Lucien could raise an alarm after two days. But by then, I could be anywhere in the world. I could be dead. I could take care of myself if I was fighting someone one-on-one. But I had no gun in Paris. No knife. No backup near at hand. I wasn’t equipped for this fight.

“Has he asked you to Hanoi yet?”

“It hasn’t come up.”

“Do you want out of this situation?”

“No.” I had to deal with my fear. Surmount it. Conquer it. For me to be able to sleep at night, Dylan McAllister had to die. Without my revenge, I had nothing.

The bubble had burst. My heart was slowly breaking, but I ignored it. I’d put my true mission on the backburner long enough. Alexander was exactly who he was and every fantasy of mine had been foolish and ridiculous. “I’m good. I’ve got to go.”

***

Elodie was preparing to go out as I entered the house. I’d gone for a walk after my talk with Lucien, hoping the fresh air would help clear my head. But it hadn’t helped at all. Paris was a city filled with lovers and my heart had just been broken. I couldn’t take it.

“Jenny,” she said to me, looking harassed. “I have to leave early. Will you tell Monsieur Hamilton that I’ve put dinner in the refrigerator?”

“Sure, I’ll tell him, Elodie,” I responded automatically.

My brain was whirring. I’d be alone in the house for the first time. The study was always off-limits to me; the door always locked. I’d never been invited in, except on the day we’d negotiated my submissive contract. But Alexander’s secrets were in that room. His computer. Paperwork. If he was in fact the person who had arranged for my kidnapping, that room might contain some proof.

I tried the handle of the door and as expected, it was locked. I stopped to think, though my heart was pounding in my chest. Elodie did a bit of light housework every day. She’d mentioned that there was a house cleaning crew that came in. All of them would have keys to the room. Somewhere in this large house, there had to be a key to the study.

It was in the most obvious spot, in the kitchen drawer, along with the rest of Elodie’s keys. I slipped the key in the lock and turned it, leaving the door ajar.

Alexander’s study contained his secrets. It was finally time for me to find out what they were.

For the moment, I ignored the computer at his desk. I sat down in his leather chair and I tried a drawer, but this too was locked. Elodie’s stack of keys didn’t work this time, but my eyes trailed around the room, looking for hiding spots. The key had to be in this room. Alexander didn’t carry around more than two or three keys on his Ferrari keychain. I’d noticed it yesterday and I’d asked him about the car logo, because he didn’t drive a Ferrari. If he had cared enough to buy a keychain, I didn’t understand why he didn’t own the car. He’d shrugged. “It’s a long story,” he’d said vaguely.

Secrets. Always secrets. How could I have been so foolish to ignore them all week? How could I have basked in his caresses?

I spun around, my trained eyes assessing and discarding each potential hiding spot. I honed in on the mantelpiece and lifted the heavy marble bust of Caesar up, sliding my fingers underneath. Voila. A key.

My hands were shaking as I opened the drawer.
What was I going to find?

Check book. Bills. A travel itinerary.
Sylvia’s travel itinerary
, which my fingers paused on for a second before moving on. She wasn’t my focus at the present.

Finally, underneath it all was a pad of paper and on it was a list of names of fifteen women. All but one of these names were scratched out, but that wasn’t what my gaze had locked on. My eyes rested on one name and my lips parted with shock.

My pulse beat in my neck like a furious, frightened cornered animal. Because the name I read on his piece of paper was my name.
My real name.
Ellie Samuelson.

My mouth was dry with fear. I scanned the list quickly, committing it to memory. Another name jumped out - Claire Bectell. Lucien’s dead sister, who’d been abducted by Dylan’s henchmen, and who had died in a brothel in the Middle East. Had Alexander been responsible for her kidnapping?

Had he caused my own imprisonment in Nigeria? Why were the names scratched out, all except mine? Were the girls all dead? Was I next? Did I have a target painted on my back?

I heard the sound of the front door opening.

Freed (
Assassin’s Revenge Book 3
)
is coming May 18!
Pre-order it today
to get it delivered to your Kindle as soon as it is available!

His name is Alexander Hamilton. He is supposedly the billionaire financier of Dylan McAllister, the man I’ve sworn to kill.

Despite all of that, I had started to trust him. I had started to believe he was uninvolved in the grim, dark world of human trafficking. Until I found that list.

Now, my mission needs to take precedence again. My broken heart does not matter. The only thing that matters is getting to Dylan.

But as Alexander’s secrets are slowly revealed, everything I believe is turned upside down. And when I hold the gun in my hand, I will have two targets in my sight. Which one will I shoot?

Click
here to pre-order Freed (Assassin’s Revenge Book 3)
today!

About Tara Crescent

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Tara Crescent is a writer of erotic fiction. She believes in sassy submissives, firm Dominants, completely consensual relationships and happily-ever-afters! Her favorite kind of romance stories are ones that are somewhat believable.

In her spare time, Tara reads, gardens, cooks, and procrastinates about cleaning. From time to time, Tara blogs about what she's working on (and anything else that she finds interesting) at
http://www.taracrescent.com
. She lives in Toronto.

She is somewhat active on Facebook and Twitter, especially when the writing is going poorly.

Find Tara on:

Website:
http://www.taracrescent.com

Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/tara.crescent

Twitter:
http://twitter.com/TaraCrescent

Mailing list:
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Books by Tara Crescent

NEW! The Assassin’s Revenge Series:

Found (Book 1) – Coming April 15

Bought (Book 2)
– Coming April 29

Freed (Book 3) – Coming May

Claimed (Book 4) – Coming June