The other tresora scowled. “We will pay you ten thousand American dollars to give them to us.” When Stryker merely lifted his brows, he added, “Twenty thousand.”
“Do you have the money on you? No? What a shame. I don’t accept checks or credit cards.” Stryker tapped his chin with one long black-polished nail. “I can give you the name of the seller, Tian, as well as his current location. He’s quite obsessed with collecting emeralds. I will even go as far as to detain these two impostors long enough to give you and your friend a reasonable head start when you leave. But as you well know, nothing in life is free. If you want my information and my services, you’ll have to offer me something in trade.”
“No.” Jamys took Chris’s hand. “Let them go. We will take our chances.”
“Wait.” Chris squeezed his hand. To Stryker, she said, “What do you want in return?”
Stryker’s eyes drifted to the couple gyrating atop the center table. “Entertainment. All my regular performers are on break now, so you and Tian give my clients a little show.” He glanced at Chris. “It’s not as if it’s her first time.” He beckoned to his entourage, who followed him over to the center table.
Chris’s scent darkened and heated as she stood and stared after the buffoon. “How badly do we need this?”
“The three gems he saw have to be the emeralds,” he admitted. He wanted to ask her what Stryker had meant by his last remark, but she was too angry. “We will leave. He wishes only to hurt you.”
“No, that’s not what he wants.” She gave him an odd look. “Do you trust me?” When he nodded, she said, “We have to perform together for him. It’ll be like a dance.”
He frowned. “I do not dance well.”
“You won’t be the one dancing.” She led him toward the platform Stryker had indicated, and once there used a chair to climb atop it.
Jamys ignored the catcalls and hooting of the spectators as he looked up at the hand she held out to him. “You are sure you wish to do this?”
“No.” Her hand remained out.
Jamys took it and climbed up beside her. All around them the lights dimmed while spotlights lit the platform.
“Quiet,” Stryker called out. When every voice stilled, he grinned up at them. “What should the DJ spin for you, Tian? You used to be fond of the Backstreet Boys, as I recall.”
“Evanescence,” she said, moving behind Jamys. “‘My Immortal.’”
“Ah, classic Goth. How painfully predictable.” Stryker made a gesture, and a few moments later the first gentle piano notes spilled out from the wall speakers.
Jamys felt Chris’s hands at his waist, and heard her voice beneath the sad music. “I’ll dance. All you have to do is stand still.”
She rubbed up against his back like a cat, turning to press her shoulders to his. He could feel her arms moving, and heard the slither of a zipper being released. She slid down him, her buttocks caressing the backs of his legs, and then curled a leg around his calves.
Her body arched with serpentine ease as she took hold of his belt and used it as a handhold to swing herself around to face him, and then pull herself up. He felt the buttons of his shirt being popped one by one out of their holes as her fingers inched over them. When he looked down, he saw she’d hiked up the skirt of her dress, exposing a long swath of thigh.
This is what he made you do? he couldn’t help thinking to her.
She stood on tiptoe, pressing her cheek to his. “No. He paid me to perform alone.”
His jaw tightened as he felt her lips against his throat, and his temper thinned as he heard the suggestions being called out by those watching them:
“Give it to her, boy.”
“Get on your knees and suck his dick.”
“Fuck that tight little ass.”
“Jerk him off.”
“No, jerk her off.”
At last he understood what Stryker had demanded of her. You need not do this.
“Forget about them.” She cradled his face with her hands, and looked into his eyes as her smile flashed, all bright and brilliant delight. “It’s just you and me. We’re not in hell. We’re in paradise, and this is for us.”
What followed tested Jamys’s self-control to the brink, as Chris used her mouth and hands and body in a slow, deliberate seduction. As she worked herself against him and around him, she managed to peel down her bodice and slip her arms free of her dress, baring herself to the hips. She brought his hands up to cover her breasts, rubbing her peaks in circles over his palms before she lowered herself again, this time nuzzling her way from his chest to his groin.
The torment continued ceaselessly, endlessly. With her mouth she toyed with him, with her fingers she stroked him, and just as he thought he could not bear another moment, she would move to his back. His shirt slid from his shoulders to the table, and he felt the blunt scrape of her teeth against his shoulder even as her fingernails lightly scored his chest.
Jamys reached down to tuck his arm under her bottom, and lifted her up until her thighs spread and she wound her legs around him. The small soft curves between her legs nestled over his erection, and he flexed his arm to work her subtly against him.
As she tried to speak, he covered her parted lips with his mouth and poured his hunger into her mind. Like this, I want you like this.
Chris latched on to his shoulders, her hips rolling as she used her body to stroke him. The fabrics separating their sexes added more friction as their movements came in sync.
He wanted to be inside her so much he curled his fist into a handful of her hair, and pressed her face against his neck, praying he would not rip the dress from her and sate his most desperate need. He heard his name rushing out with her short, rapid breaths, and then her body began to tremble violently. He splayed his hand across her buttocks, pressing her to him as she shook, and then jerked in response as the semen came jetting from his cock.
“Wow.” Her arm curled around his neck, and her damp, hot cheek rested against his heart. “That makes up for a lot of bad memories.”
He kissed her brow and the tip of her nose and bow of her upper lip before he looked into her dazed eyes. You are my every pleasure, Christian. All the wants and dreams and longings of my soul. I am yours, my lady.
The music swelled and ebbed, and finally drifted to its sorrowful end. Chris unwound herself from him, going to her knees before him, lifting her arms to press her hands to his thighs as she bowed her head.
Stryker stood up and clapped his hands together slowly several times. “How quaint and conventional.” He eyed the soaked material at the front of Jamys’s trousers. “At least someone enjoyed it. Now, Tian, perhaps after one final solo performance, for old times’ sake, we may—”
“Oh, so you think you’re going to welsh on us now?” Chris accepted Jamys’s hand as he helped her down, and gave him a small nod before she offered Stryker a cool smile. “Not this time.”
Sound and colors blurred around Jamys as he moved to Stryker and grabbed him by the throat. When his men moved in, Jamys snarled at them, and they slowly backed away. He then applied just enough pressure to see Stryker’s bloodshot eyes bulge before he eased his grip. “You wish to tell me the name and location of the man with the emeralds.”
“His name is Noel Coburn. He uses a jewelry store as a front for selling weapons.” After an extended coughing fit, Stryker wheezed out, “He had them in the safe at the shop.”
“That’s the guy Sam found murdered downtown. She said his safe and shop had been cleaned out.” Chris stepped closer. “Did you have him killed? Do you have the emeralds?”
“No. The office safe was purely for show.” Stryker gasped as Jamys tightened his fingers. “Second safe. Hidden under the rug in the front of the store. I swear.”
As Jamys released him, Stryker fell back into the arms of two shrieking girls, and took them down to the floor with him. He stepped over the writhing bodies to grab the two tresori, slamming their heads together hard enough to knock them unconscious before dropping them.
Chris pulled her dress back in place and zipped up the side. “Come on,” she said to Jamys, “before I let you kill him.”
Chapter 15
Halfway between the station and the stronghold traffic suddenly came to a standstill, and when Sam leaned her head out to look ahead, she smelled smoke and blood, and heard shouts from a block away. Using her emergency flashers, she eased out of her lane and drove on the shoulder until she reached the accident at the intersection.
Crumpled front ends conjoined an SUV and a small pickup, which both had air bags deployed. One man with a nose streaming blood was shouting and pounding on the roof of the truck.
Sam parked to one side and ran out in time to keep the angry motorist from trying to drive his fist through the window. “Sir, you need to come away from here.”
“Sonofabitch ran the red. Come outta there, goddamnit.” He tried to jerk his arm from her grip, and then stared at her. “He ran the red.”
“I can see that. Let me get him out.” Sam shed more scent as she pointed to a nearby bus stop bench. “You go sit over there and be quiet.”
The dazed motorist lurched off, and Sam called it in on her mobile as she pried open the truck’s door. The boy inside lay unmoving against the deflating air bag, half a joint still tucked in the corner of his mouth.
“What happened to ‘just say no’?” Sam muttered as she carefully lifted him out of the seat. She carried him across the glass-strewn road to the opposite curb, where she lowered him onto the grass. The air bag had done a number on his chin and the front of his neck, and blood oozing from the friction wounds wet her scarred palm as she felt for the pulse she didn’t find.
“Shit.” She tipped his head back and cleared his airway, trying at the same time to hold back the images pouring into her mind.
“May I be of assistance?” a low voice asked.
