Infiltrating Your Heart (35 page)

Mercedes!

The photo is of Mercedes and a guy
who looks a bit older than I am. It seems to have been taken at night. They
both appear to be somewhere outside. Mercedes is leaning against a wall, her
eyes closed. She and the guy are making out. I grit my teeth.

I flip through the photos. They all
include the same subjects, Mercedes and the guy. In every photo, she’s in
increasing states of nudity. In the last ones, Mercedes’s chest is bare.

What the hell is this about?

The photos appear to be recent. I
wonder who took the burden of bringing them to my door.

No. Mercedes can’t be cheating on me.

I stand up, throwing the photos to
the side. They fall on the floor. I start pacing, and run my hand through my
hair.

It’s hard to believe Mercedes would
cheat on me. What we have is real. We love each other.

Maybe that’s what someone’s hoping.
They may be counting on my getting jealous. I may not know Mercedes well
enough, but I choose to trust her. Still, I’m going to ask her what this all
means.

I pull my smartphone from my pocket
and place a call to Mercedes. Minutes pass, and she still doesn’t answer. I
wonder what she’s doing. Then I realize.

I’d forgotten about last night.
Mercedes must be feeling bad about Blake’s outburst.

Why don’t you at least let me know
where you are?

Mercedes could be anywhere, even at
her father’s house. I pick up the photos and get back outside. I’m not going to
let her shut me out.

I check Mercedes’s father’s house
first, but I don’t see her car there. So I head for the apartment.

Minutes later, I pull up near the
building. I make my way to it. When I get to the front area, I ask the
receptionist about Mercedes.

“Yes, she just checked in a quarter
hour ago,” the guy tells me. I ask him the room number. After thanking him, I
take the elevator.

Shortly afterward, I stop in front of
Mercedes’s door. Taking a deep breath, I knock.

“Mercedes! Open up. I know you’re
there.”

I wait, listening to the sounds
inside. A set of footsteps starts coming closer. Then the door opens, and
Mercedes looks at me.

“What’s wrong, Gabriel?”

“Where have you been all day? I’ve
been trying to reach you.”

“I was busy running errands.”

“Uh-huh. Let me in. I want to talk in
private.”

Appearing confused, Mercedes stands
aside. After she lets me in, she closes the door.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“First, I want to know if you’re all
right.”

Mercedes curves an eyebrow.

“I’m fine, Gabriel.”

“Are you sure you’re not avoiding
me?”

“No, I’ve just been busy. There’s
stuff that I had to sort out. What’s going on?”

I sigh, and then pull the manila
envelope from inside my blazer jacket. I hand it to Mercedes.

“I want you to tell me what that is.”

Looking bewildered, Mercedes opens
the envelope. When she sees what’s inside, she gasps.

“Where did you find this?”

“It doesn’t matter. What is it
about?”

Mercedes flips through the photos
without answering me. She looks stony-faced. I watch her sit on her sofa. I sit
next to her.

“What are those photos about,
Mercedes? Are you cheating on me?”

“No! For God’s sake, Gabriel, how
could you think that? This is not what you think.”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know how you got this, but
it happened before I even met you. It was a one-night stand. It doesn’t matter,
Gabriel. The past is the past.”

I look at Mercedes, hoping she’s
telling the truth.

“You seemed to enjoy this,” I say.

Mercedes rolls her eyes.

“Duh! That’s the point of a one-night
stand. I wasn’t going to pick a guy I didn’t like.”

I mull this over. The photos look
like they were taken within the last few months. Mercedes and I have only known
each other for a short time. It’s possible she was having one-night stands
before she met me. And I can’t judge her for it.

“You’re not having any of these
trysts anymore, are you?” I ask.

“No, Gabriel. I haven’t been seeing
anyone since I met you. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m mad about you.”

I can’t help letting out a short
laugh.

“Then why do I get a…an odd vibe from
you? I can’t help but think you’re hiding something.”

Mercedes looks at me as if asking
are
you for real?

“Are you a sex addict?” I ask.

Mercedes does a double-take.

“I love having sex, but I’m no
addict.”

I nod to myself.

“You’re not one of those
megalomaniac, controlling sort of boyfriends, are you?” she asks me.

“No. You’ve just been acting
strange.”

“
One
day that I fail to answer
your calls, and you’re already getting nervous? Unbelievable.”

“What did you expect me to think
after the little delivery I got?”

“At least show more faith.”

Mercedes stands up. Or tries to.

“Wait!” I say, grabbing her arm. “I’m
sorry I’m acting like a douche. I just love you too much, and the idea of you
being with another guy…”

I wait for Mercedes to look back at
me. She does so, moving her neck slowly.

“Let me make amends. Are you still
busy tonight? We could go out for dinner, or go to the park. It’s not that dark
out yet.”

Mercedes thinks about it for a few
seconds. She then shakes her head.

“I think I’d rather be alone today.”

I frown.

“If this is about what Blake said
yesterday, forget about it. He’s usually a pleasant guy to be around.”

“I don’t care,” Mercedes says. “This
photo incident is just very troubling. Whoever did it, what could they seek to
gain from it? I want to think.”

“Okay. But call me tomorrow. I’m
worried about you.”

Mercedes nods halfheartedly. I stand
up and walk to her door. Before I go, I look back at her. She smiles, but worry
is still evident in her eyes.

I don’t
know what to think. Maybe I should just let Mercedes cool down.

~*~
Mercedes

Something is very wrong. I make a
beeline for the kitchen and pour myself a glass of champagne. I wonder who the
hell gave Gabriel those photos. I recognize them right away. They were of Sam
and yours truly.

Has someone been keeping tabs on me?

I shudder at the thought. Then I sit
down and think about what Patrick told me last weekend. Is it possible that the
guy I almost killed the day I met Patrick wants revenge on me?

If so, what does he win by sabotaging
my relationship with Gabriel?

I sigh, feeling like my head is about
to explode. There’s so much trouble going on all of a sudden. I never dreamed
that what I did that fateful night would come back to haunt me so soon. What
would a high-caliber criminal want from me?

Shit. I’ve got so much stuff to worry
about. Before Gabriel showed up, I was sorting things out with Angelica. She’s
urging me to take another assignment. I expressed my desire to resign, but she doesn’t
want to let me go. Angelica’s afraid of losing her best escort.

So be it.

I can only solve one thing at a time.
There’s nothing I can do about the photos situation, so I go to my room. I’m
going on a new assignment today.

Over the weekend, the agency sent me
new e-mails with details about potential clients. I screen the attachments
carefully. I’d rather not repeat the experience I had on my last “assignment”.
The first client on the list is a college professor reaching his mid-thirties.
He wants me to go with him to a luncheon.

Hmm. Looks like another Mr.
Favorable.

The second attachment has information
on a repeat customer. I’ve had a pleasant experience with him, but he almost
always wants sex. I’d rather not do that. Somehow, I’m feeling exclusive about
Gabriel.

I check the third attachment. And
then my breath catches. I stare at the photo the client provided, blinking in
disbelief.

Damn. The client, Stephen, looks
hot1>.
He's got a dark and dangerous, but sexy vibe about him. Wow. I’m definitely up
for a night with this client. At least he isn’t requesting sex.

By nine thirty, I’m ready to go. I’ve
dressed up and applied some makeup. I had to take a shower to erase any
evidence that I’ve been crying, though. Purse in hand, I leave my apartment and
take the elevator down.

The place where I arrive is an
exciting and quite edgy night club not far south from where I live.
Luckily, it’s not where Patrick works. Stephen made a great choice.

I find parking, and then walk to the
nightclub. There’s a short line outside. Due to my job and beauty, I’m given
special preference at some of the best clubs in the city, so the bouncer lets
me through as soon as I arrive. I thank him and walk inside.

The interior is in semi-darkness.
Colored lights blink on and off at a quick pace. I make my way through the
throng of people and head for the bar. Stephen said he’d be waiting for me
there.

I sit on a stool and watch the
clientele.

“What drink would you like,
beautiful?” the bartender asks me. I turn to him.

“I’d like a mint julep, please.”

“Coming right away.”

“Add a Jager Bomb to that” a male voice
next to me says. I turn and see Stephen. My breath catches. He truly is quite
breathtaking.

The bartender nods and leaves to
prepare our drinks. Stephen sits next to me.

“You’re a lot hotter in person than
in photos, Scarlet,” Stephen says. His eyes run up and down my body.

“So do you,” I reply with a tone of
seduction. “You’re strong, dark, and drool-worthy.”

“Why, thank you, gorgeous.”

Our drinks arrive. I drink while
watching Stephen ogle me. He’s so handsome, he can stare at me all he wants. I
love it when men make it obvious that I’m yummy.

“I’m curious. What do you do for a
living?” I ask.

“I make money by beating seasoned
poker players.”

My eyebrows furrow in confusion.
Stephen smiles.

“That’s a joke. I do work at a
casino, though.”

“Oh,” I say, laughing. “But if you’re
an employee, are you allowed to challenge your customers?”

“That’s what I visit other casinos
for. I’m a security guard at one, but I play in others during my spare time.
I’m a highly skilled player.”

“Interesting. I would love to see you
show off your poker skills to me sometime.”

“Maybe. Do you know how to play?”

Yes. Oliver taught me.

“Only a bit. A friend showed me how.”

“Straight poker?”

“Yes.”

Stephen nods, looking interested. We
finish our drinks and order another round.

After some more conversation, Stephen
asks me to the dance floor. I take his hand and let him lead me among the bunch
of people dancing.

Stephen turns out to be as skilled at
dancing as he claims to be at poker. I find myself all but outperformed.
Usually I can dance better than guys.

The music is wild, and our dancing is
hot and full of energy. A light sheen of sweat breaks across my forehead and
chest. I keep dancing to the beat of the music. I’m having so much fun that I
forget about my worries.

Halfway through the song, Stephen
lowers his hand. He grabs my butt and squeezes. I moan lowly, closing my eyes.
He’s got me under his spell.

Gosh, what the hell am I thinking?
Did the bartender—or Stephen—put something in my drink?

I look around, surprised to see that
my vision is blurry. I was so focused on Stephen that I didn’t notice. But I
don’t feel bad. I feel…good. I almost forget that Stephen said there’d be no sex
stuff.

Bring it on, baby.

Stephen twirls me around. With my
back to him, he nips on the curve between my shoulder and my neck. His hand
simultaneously reaches around to cup my breast.

“Do you want to continue dancing, or
would you like to follow me outside?”

Outside, darling.

Wait. What the hell am I thinking?

“Let’s not do this, okay?”

Stephen complies, raising his hands
up as if in surrender.

“Whatever you want, sugar.”

Stephen and I continue dancing. However,
he finds me unable to resist. He trails kisses down my neck while his hands fondle
my breasts. Stephen pulls down on the top of my dress, feeling them. His fingers
begin to expertly tweak my nipples.