The Deception (3 page)

Surprise flashed across his face. Judging from the quality of his clothes, he probably wasn’t used to being questioned by a prostitute—or anyone, for that matter. Then again, she couldn’t imagine he’d advertise the fact he was in the drug trade.

A lazy smile played around his mouth.“I bet you enjoy getting high. Tell me, what’s your poison? Pills? Coke? Ice? Or maybe it’s good old-fashioned weed that gets you going? Vince must have a pretty decent supply stored here if he manages to keep all of you satisfied. What happens when he runs out? Have you ever escorted him on a buying trip?”

 His persistent questions, as ludicrous as they were, hammered into her already-foggy brain and she wondered dazedly how he’d so easily turned the tables.
She
was the one asking the questions, wasn’t she? So much for her prowess as an investigative journalist. Did she learn nothing during her years walking the halls of Parliament House?

“Cat got your tongue, Red?” His eyes taunted her. “Perhaps I could help you find it again?”

Savannah’s heart thudded, this time in nervous anticipation. He unfolded his long, lean body from the chair and stretched to his full height, the wicked glint in his cool blue eyes pinning her where she stood.

Breaking the spellbinding contact, she wrenched her gaze away and stared blindly toward the curtain that covered the window on the other side of the room. Her mind spun.

What the hell was she thinking?
She was way out of her league. It was time to leave. At least now she could make a grab for her clothes.

She took a step away from him. He moved closer. Too close. She could almost feel the heat of him through his shirt. Expensive cologne teased her nostrils. Her pulse skittered. His gaze wandered over her again, leaving a trail of fire.

Renewed panic surged through her. Her information-gathering would have to wait. Getting out of there unscathed had just become her top priority. She only hoped Malee had left the back door unlocked, as she’d promised.

Despite the fact armed security guards regularly traversed the perimeter of the building, the girl had come through on her earlier promise to get Savannah into the place. She only hoped she was as reliable when it came to getting her out. She refused to dwell on the fact that, if things had gone to plan, Malee would now be long gone and that meant Savannah’s departure or otherwise from the brothel would be the last thing on the girl’s mind.

The man who stood much too close for comfort smiled at her with a lazy confidence. Her gaze was drawn once again to his lips—full, yet masculine. Despite the seriousness of her situation, desire sparked along her nerve endings.

As if sensing her response, he drew her hard against him. She tensed and silently cursed her wayward libido. Before she knew what was happening, his mouth found hers. They both gasped at the impact. Trying to ignore the waves of pleasure that coursed through her, she braced her hands against his chest and pushed him away.

“You promised! You promised you wouldn’t touch me!”

He shrugged. “So, I lied.” With practiced ease, he slid the strap of her bodysuit down her arm and freed one of her breasts, cupping it in a strong, warm hand. Despite the danger of her situation, desire shivered through her.

With one quick movement, he lifted her in his arms and tossed her onto the bed. Seconds later, he joined her. Seizing both of her hands in his, he pinned them above her head. His mouth hovered inches away from hers. He gazed into her eyes, his expression unreadable.

“How about we forget about our questions for a while and get to know each other a little better?” he murmured. His lips found hers again.

Everywhere his mouth touched, left her wanting more. She moved against him, aware only of a need to get closer and satisfy the liquid fire that had ignited inside her.

“I knew I could get you to relax, Red.” An entirely masculine laugh tickled her ear.

His words penetrated her passion-dulled mind. Savannah gasped in outrage, her anger directed not only at his arrogance, but at herself for so completely forgetting her precarious situation.

Knowing she’d never best him by force, with concentrated effort, she relaxed in his arms, grateful when his hold loosened. She looked up at him through lowered lashes and teased her fingers along his strong jawline. Her voice dropped to a husky whisper.

“You’re sure good at making a lady forget where she is, all right.”

At his answering chuckle, she twisted sharply beneath him. Bringing her knee up, she caught him squarely in the groin.

“Fuck!”
He yelped in pain and surprise. His arms dropped away, giving her the crucial seconds she needed.

Scrambling off the bed, she wrenched up the straps of her bodysuit and stumbled to the chair. Making a grab for her clothes, she bundled them under her arm and ran toward the door. Suddenly remembering it was locked, she pulled up short.

Shit.

Slowly, she turned around to face him. James Bond leaned forward on the bed, pain, shock and confusion clouding his handsome features. “What the hell…?”

Savannah didn’t dare waste another second. She raced across the room to the single window. Wrenching open the heavy velvet drapes, she sagged in disbelief at the sight of the thick steel bars that blocked the opening.

Stifling a groan, she sent a desperate glance around the room and spied the key on the nightstand. Relief surged through her, but she ignored it; she wasn’t safe yet. Resisting the urge to look at the man on the bed, she dashed over to the nightstand and palmed the key. The heat of anger from his gaze only feet away singed her.

She tightened her hold on the bundle of clothing and strode to the door. With a deep breath, she managed to steady her hand long enough to fit the key into the lock. Seconds later, she swung it open.

Unable to help herself, she threw a glance over her shoulder. She gasped at the emotion that burned in the stranger’s eyes: anger, confusion, uncertainty and the tiniest hint of admiration flitted across his face. He rolled to the edge of the bed and sat up. Adrenaline surged through her.

Not willing to risk being detained by him further, she checked that the corridor was clear of guards. She slipped out of the room, all the while praying silently that Malee had left the back door unlocked.

CHAPTER 3

Monday morning

Will parked his unmarked police vehicle in its usual spot and proceeded into the station. The strident calls of a newspaper boy slowly penetrated the tangle of thoughts that vied for his attention. Though it hadn’t been long since the sun had poked its face over the horizon, it already promised to be another fine summer day.

He nodded a greeting to the cleaner who stood with a mop and bucket in the foyer and then picked up a copy of the
Daily Mirror
from a pile that lay on the front counter. It was still too early for the administrative staff and Will was grateful for the solitude. Taking the stairs two at a time, he pushed open the door to the squad room that housed the detectives. With a murmured greeting to the officers who were winding down after their nightshift, he made his way over to his desk.

It looked the way it always did, spilling over with paperwork and files. A tattered copy of the
New South Wales Crimes Act 1900
stood at one end. Yellow post-it notes were stuck to his computer monitor, detailing reminders of things to be done. Some of the notes had turned up at the corners.

After making his usual brew of straight black coffee in the tea room, he carried his mug back to his desk and sat down. The vinyl chair squeaked in protest. Ignoring it, he reached for the newspaper.

The phone on his desk rang, the noise of it loud in the quiet office. He silenced the racket by answering it.

“Yep?”

“What’s up, Will? You sound like shit.”

“Gee, thanks, mate. I’m so glad you called.”

Andy Warwick laughed. “Let me guess, big weekend? Who was it this time? Susie? Or maybe it was Candi? Oh, I know.
Maxine
.” His voice was full of innuendo.

Will took the teasing from his best friend in stride and grinned into the phone. “Jealousy’s a curse, mate. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that?”

Andy pounced. “So, I was right. It
was
Maxine. The marvellous, magical Maxine.”

“No, smart ass, it wasn’t Maxine.” His mind skittered over images of the redhead. “It was nobody. I was on a job.”

Andy turned serious. “Any luck?”

Will groaned, not bothering to hide his frustration. “Not yet, but we’re getting close. I put in a late one on Saturday night and then made the mistake of poring over the file yesterday. The hours slipped away. I couldn’t switch off. The answers are in there somewhere, I know it.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’ll find them. It’s what you do best.”

Will picked up his coffee cup. Taking a grateful sip from the strong, black brew, he waited for the caffeine to work its magic. “So, how are you going with your course?”

There was silence on the other end of the phone. When Andy finally answered, his voice was heavy with disappointment.

“Not so good. I failed. Now I’ll have to reapply and hope they give me another chance.”

Will briefly closed his eyes. Memories of the stories Andy had shared about his fucked-up childhood crowded Will’s mind. He knew how much his mate wanted to be a police negotiator and he knew the reasons why. A decade as a detective in the New South Wales Police Service wasn’t enough. Andy wanted to prevent people from suffering the agony he did as a child when communications between the police and the perpetrator broke down and there was nothing left to lose.

Desperate men did desperate things. Andy wanted to get into their heads, to get between them and the blackness that consumed them; to give them hope when all else had failed.

And now
he’d
failed. The negotiators’ course was a tough one. It weeded out those officers not mentally strong enough to withstand the stresses they would experience during high pressure situations when a single wrong word could mean the difference between life and death.

Will felt Andy’s failure as he would his own and his gut clenched in response, but as much as he wished it were otherwise, there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to change it. His mate would simply have to try again.

Switching subjects, he tried to lift the mood. “I know it’s only Monday, but what are you doing next weekend? Maybe we could take the yacht out? The weather should be good for it.”

Andy’s voice hitched. “Thanks, mate. Sounds perfect.”

After assuring him he would call him later in the week to firm up the details, Will ended the call. Sinking further into his chair, he took another mouthful of coffee and picked up the newspaper. His gaze flicked idly over the headline…and he choked in disbelief.

Hot black coffee sprayed across his desk. Staring incredulously, he shook his head and read the headline again.

‘
DARK DEALINGS DISCOVERED IN EXCLUSIVE SYDNEY BROTHEL’

The story was remarkably accurate: the million dollar crowd; the live show; the drugged girls. A further surprise was that the article went on to allege the prostitutes were illegally tenured.

“What the
hell?
” He searched for a byline and frowned when he didn’t find one. The journo must have been inside the brothel, or at the very least, his source had been an insider. It wasn’t easy to gain entrance to The Black Opal. The man either had an extremely valuable contact or was already a member of the elite circle of gentlemen who frequented the place. Either way, the story didn’t bode well for Will’s investigation.

“Fuck.”
He was getting so close and now some damned fool of a journalist was also nosing around. It could ruin everything. And for what? Some blasted story that would get the bloke’s name on the front page of the paper.

Except it hadn’t
. The name wasn’t there. A technical glitch? Or had it been something else? Everyone knew how much a byline meant to a newspaper journalist.

Of course, if the journo was a member of the club, it would explain the need for secrecy. Maybe he knew how nasty the repercussions would be if Vince Maranoa discovered his identity?

At least Will’s presence had gone undetected. It was bad enough to have some idiot messing around with the investigation. The last thing he needed was to have a journalist recognize him. It was one of the reasons he stayed well clear of his father’s multi-million dollar business empire. Will preferred anonymity and it sure as hell made his job doing undercover work a lot easier.

Frustration surged through him. His Saturday night stakeout had left him with too many questions and no answers. Most of the prostitutes he’d seen were using. He could only assume they were being supplied by Maranoa. He frowned and took another sip of his coffee.

Why would a man like Maranoa, a man who would sell his mother if the price was right, bother supplying his employees with drugs when he could make a lot more money selling them to other dealers? And why did he only employ women of Asian appearance—apart from the redhead? Will’s frown deepened. Where the hell did
she
fit in?

It was obvious she hadn’t been high. Those green eyes had been clear and bright and she’d been more than articulate. At the time, it had almost felt like she was probing
him
for information. It didn’t make sense. Why would a prostitute care where her next fix came from?

And then there was the way she’d fainted during the stage show and the even stranger way she’d acted on the bed. If he didn’t know better, he’d have guessed it was her first time. She’d told him she’d known Vince long enough, but that could mean anything.

His thoughts centered on the scene he’d stumbled across earlier in the night. He hadn’t forgotten the snatches of conversation he’d caught between her and the girl named Malee. It was obvious Malee intended to leave the brothel and it was just as obvious the redhead had been aiding her escape. Were the girls illegally tenured, as the article suggested? It wouldn’t be the first time.

He recalled the way the redhead had panicked when she’d discovered the bars across the window. Surely she should have already been aware of them? Her hasty departure from the room was also odd. Okay, she’d woken from a faint to find herself in a room with a strange man who had locked the door and taken the key, but surely that action hadn’t warranted such a drastic reaction? She’d looked genuinely frightened.