Dark Secret (DARC Ops Book 1) (16 page)

And then an even better feeling, the raw electricity of an orgasm building up from her toes and into her belly. Jackson reached around and pressed his fingers hard against her clit. Ecstasy exploded up Mira's spine and into her brain in blinding white flashes, her muscles contracting and her inner walls clamping down hard around him as she came again.

And then Jackson came hard, as if he'd been waiting for her pleasure before letting go of his own control, thrusting deep and then holding his hips flush against her body as he spasmed in ecstasy, his groan low and guttural. She could feel him pulsing and twitching, climaxing hard, emptying himself inside her.

He collapsed onto Mira, thoroughly exhausted. She could feel his abs flexing against her back with each hard breath as he struggled to get his breath back.

“Oh my God,” he panted.

“Yeah,” was all she could say, also out of breath, and almost out of her mind.

He helped her off the table a moment later, handing Mira her clothes and helping her dress. There was still that pesky interview to deal with. Working as a team, they tried to hide the evidence, brushing the sex from each other's wrinkled clothes and disheveled hair. But there was nothing to be done about flushed cheeks and dirty minds. They'd have to live with that.

Mira could so live with that.

“Thanks for lunch,” she said, grinning.

Yeah,” Jackson laughed. “Best I ever had.”

M
ira sat alone
in Jackson's office, doodling in a sketchbook. When she heard the reporter's familiar clacking heels she spun around with a cheerful grin. “Annica! Hey! How was your lunch?”

“Uh... Pretty good,” the reporter said hesitantly as she pulled back one of Jackson's chairs and sat.

“Good,” said Mira, sounding as perky as possible. “What did you have?”

“Lentil soup.”

Poor girl.

“Mmm. Sounds good,” Mira said with a smile.

Lentil soup... What a boring way to spend a half hour...

“How was your lunch?” Annica asked.

Her lunch was incredible. Absolutely fucking goddamned incredible. “Pretty good,” she said with a modest little grin.

“Where did you end up going?” asked Annica. “I was waiting for you in the lobby in case you wanted to keep up the interview.”

“Oh. Sorry. I stayed here. Please don't take it personally, but, I kinda needed a break from the questions.” Mira shrugged innocently. “Low blood sugar. I can get grouchy.”

“She's all better now,” said Jackson, fixing his tie as he entered the office. “I whipped up something special for her in the break room.”

“Aww,” said Annica. “How nice.”

Nice, indeed.

Life was good again. Mira could handle this. And Annica finally finished the interview.

After all the questions, and after Annica made her exit, Mira was happily faced with the prospects of being alone with Jackson again. Behind a locked door, even.

“So...” she said with a devilish grin.

“No,” he laughed. “No way. My P.A. has a key.”

“I know, I know,” she said, feeling like a shamelessly horny schoolgirl. “I was just kidding.”

“No you weren't.”

“Fine, I wasn't.”

Jackson got up and circled around his desk. The fact that his body was approaching hers was enough to send a pleasant shiver up her spine. A nice little flashback.

“I've got something for you,” he said, pulling a chair close to her and sitting. He leaned over and pecked her softly on the forehead.

“A kiss?” she asked.

“No.”

He leaned over again, this time meeting Mira halfway for a hot kiss on the mouth, his tongue surging forward and swirling with hers. She savored it for a moment, Mira enjoying more flashbacks. More of that lip... That tongue...

When Jackson pulled away, he'd taken hold of her hand and pulled it out flat. “Now close your eyes,” he said.

Mira closed her eyes.

And a second later, she felt two small metal objects fall into her palm. What were they? Tracking devices?

“Open your eyes,” he said.

She saw two small diamond earrings sparkling from her hand.

“Oh my God... Jackson...”

Oh my god, He
was
serious about her. Maybe even
too
serious.

She was almost overwhelmed, until Jackson said, “Don't worry, they're fake.”

Mira laughed. It was a relief. She hated receiving gifts, especially jewelry so expensive she’d been afraid to wear it.

“But hey,” said Jackson. “It's the thought that counts, right?”

“Let me guess. Tracking devices?”

He smiled. “Exactly. But really nice ones, though, right?”

She laughed again. “They're wonderful. Thank you.” Although she was mildly disappointed that they were back to business. In fact, she had almost forgotten the whole thing. Multiple orgasms seemed to have that effect on her.

“I made up some fake documentation for my identity at the Ball,” he said. “I'll be there as Tom Wainwright.”

“Okay. And who is Tom Wainwright, exactly?”

He grinned sexily. “Tom is your boyfriend.”

“Oh, he is?” She nudged him with her elbow.

“Yes. And he's crazy about you. Didn’t you know that?”

They stayed in his office for the next hour, planning and rehearsing for the Ball. But Mira was so distracted she could barely retain anything—other than her suddenly having a boyfriend. One that was apparently crazy for her.

I
t was
the first time he'd seen her in heels that high, her legs defined and flexing as she confidently descended the stairs in front of her apartment. She wore a black cocktail dress, a short and sleek little number. Jackson hoped he could keep his focus. Tonight was an integral part of their mission and he had work to do. Unzipping her dress with his teeth wasn't part of it.

“Mira,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “You look absolutely stunning.”

“Thank you.” She pulled him back in for a kiss on the lips, her tongue darting out to lick across his lower lip. “It's our first date, you know.”

“You’re right.”

She smiled. “A
real
date.”

A heat bloomed inside Jackson at the sight of her smile. From the beginning, he’d been prepared to make their night at the Embassy Row Ball special. For authenticity’s sake—or at least that’s what he’d told himself. It would be easier that way, to blend in as a happy couple. But now that it had actually become their official "first date," Jackson had gone all out with the black tuxedo and limousine. This night was now important to him in more ways than just the job.

“Where's the champagne?” Mira joked as the limo sped away.

He smiled and brushed his finger along her cheek. “That comes
after
. We've got work to do.”

“Fine,” she said with a pout.

“You can have a whole case later if everything goes well.”

“I might want more than champagne when this is over.” Her grin, and the way she bit her bottom lip… God, he was five seconds away from rolling up the privacy window and asking the man behind it to take the scenic route.

Mira laid her hand on his leg, curving down inside his thigh.

Another option was to turn around and head back to her apartment. Maybe spend the whole night being a couple of irresponsible, unpatriotic, sexual gluttons.

Jackson grabbed her hand as it slowly inched towards his crotch. And then he held it like a nice and proper gentleman. “Behave yourself,” he said. “If you keep that up we won't get anything done.”

“Oh, I don't know. I think we'd get
something
done.”

Aside from his newfound goal of having as much sex with Mira as possible, wherever and whenever possible, Jackson still had a few other less important objectives to reach. One of them being a thorough investigation of the Tanzanian embassy and its guests. They were all armed with recording devices and bugs, and the knowledge that Langhorne's plans had somehow filtered through the embassy.

“Where are Matthias and Tansy?” asked Mira.

“They're already there. I got them in with the banquet staff. If you want to get anything done in this town, you need to know some people in the banquet business. It's like an analogue backdoor.”

“Sneaky, sneaky...”

“Let's just make sure we get out of there just as smoothly.”

“We will,” she said, playing with her earrings.

“Please, stay out of trouble. Okay? I'll be keeping my eye on you, but...”

“But what? I've got my earrings, remember?”

“Just don't go disappearing. Promise me.”

Mira snuggled up to him, curling her arm around his and resting her head on his shoulder. “I promise.”

F
or the most part
, she kept that promise.

To be sure, Jackson kept a lock on her as he hovered around the room and talked to various guests—or at least pretended to talk to them. People just assumed he had a good reason for being at the ball, that they’d have something in common, including a shared boredom that would facilitate random, arbitrary small talk.

No hors d'oeuvres yet?

Guess not.

Damn. We're here too early.

I tried telling my wife that.

Me too. You're with A. Johnson, right?

Um, yeah. Until he fires me.

Jackson had lived and worked in the District long enough to be able to bullshit any angle necessary, whether he was with A. Johnson, or maybe he was even A. Johnson himself. Who the hell was A. Johnson, anyway?

More importantly, where was Mira?

They’d put her to work early, helping a group of Tanzanian immigrants find their tables, then having an in-depth discussion with the ambassador, and then talking for some reason with the soundboard guy. Currently, she was positioned at the entrance in a "greeter" capacity. Jackson swung by when she had a minute alone.

“What are they paying you?” he asked.

“What? Shh...” She looked so cute when she was embarrassed. And she was easily embarrassed.

“That doesn't sound like enough. They're working you hard.”

“Fine,” she said quietly. “They are. Grab me a drink?”

“I'll get you a soda.”

“
Jackson
,” she whisper-yelled, as if to imply a great need for something stronger, perhaps a stiff gin and tonic.

Taking the hint, Jackson wandered over to the growing crowd in front of the bar. It looked like things were starting to pick up. A live band had begun playing and the hall filled with the brassy notes of African Jazz. Jackson turned back to look at Mira, the cinematic quality of her beauty now accentuated by the music. He watched her interactions with the guests, her warm smile, an engaging glance. She might be the first woman he'd actually felt excited to introduce to his friends, his family. How could they not love her? Jackson would be a fool not to, either.

While in line for a drink, he made a quick call to the rest of the team. Tansy was already casing out a few sensitive "off-limits" areas at the rear of the building. And Matthias was already bored—which wasn't necessarily bad. Given his background, the man had almost a built in radar for people who were acting a little odd. A part of Jackson was hoping the night would go as uneventfully as possible, whether they collected any evidence or not. The whole thing had sounded suspicious from the start, and so having Mira simply come away from the night unscathed would be considered a success.

After his calls, Jackson grabbed two cocktail glasses and made his way back to Mira, or at least, in the general direction of where he’d last seen her. He now stood in the middle of the banquet hall, holding two drinks, looking for Mira while probably looking utterly lost in the process. He did a slow three-sixty scan of the room. But she was still nowhere to be found.

Thinking it might be easier to track down her earrings, Jackson pulled out his cell to check on their whereabouts. No pressure. He wasn't looking for Mira. Just some stupid earrings... They would usually appear as a blinking dot in the black and green radar screen of the custom app. He'd tested them just hours prior. But now, there was nothing but blank space. He tried adjusting the search frequencies, and still nothing.

He took a few deep breaths, trying to remain calm, and then took a long sip from one of his drinks before placing them both down on a random table.

“Tansy, we got a problem with the earrings.”

“Don't worry, Jack,” Tansy’s replied over the phone. “She's with me.”

“With
you
?”

“Well, not exactly. But she's somewhere in the back rooms here. She crossed through the kitchen with Chuck and I followed them.”

“Where are you now?” asked Jackson.

“I'm just...uh...” Jackson could hear his footsteps, and then the creaky opening of a door. “I'm just trying to go where I saw them last. A storage room.”

Jackson’s suspicions twisted into a slight panic. Why would Chuck take her into a storage room? And why would Mira agree to it?

“Wait,” said Tansy. “Wait a minute.” His voice began to sound strange. Worried.

“What is it?” barked Jackson.

“Hold on... What the hell is this?” Tansy swore loudly.

“What!?”

“The earrings, Jack. They're on the ground. Crushed.”

D
arkness
.

A splitting headache.

Something stuffed into her mouth.

And then she woke up to find herself strapped to a chair. Nylon moving straps, the kind with metal clamps. The were wrapped tightly around her like she was an expensive piece of furniture, their edges digging into the skin on her arms and legs. And what the hell was in her mouth? A piece of cloth? It was hard to breathe with her mouth taped shut.

And then Mira realized that she actually
was
gagged and bound in some strange room. This was actually happening. She screamed as she struggled against the straps.

“Ah, there you are,” came a familiar nasally voice from behind her. “I don't hit people in the head with hammers very often, so I wasn’t sure what to expect, really.”

She looked around for an escape.

She was in a wine cellar. One door. No windows.

“I mean, you were
breathing
, so that was good. But, you never know. People breathe when they're in a coma. Right? Well, wait. Are you in a coma? Do people scream when they're in a coma?”

Mira cursed at him when he stepped into view.

Chuck.

He walked in front of her, still speaking in that familiar, friendly co-worker tone. “Hey, buddy. Long day, huh?”

She screamed again. Why the fuck was she gagged and bound? And why was Chuck her captor?

“Yeah,” he said calmly. “Sorry I had to hit you so hard. I wanted to just chloroform you, but, well... you had to go and be stubborn about it.”

He touched her, one hand running through her hair, and her entire body tensed.

“That's gonna be your downfall one of these days. Being so stubborn.” She felt his hand land on her shoulder, squeezing it. “Yep,” he said, patting her. “You're a hard nut to crack, Mira. Gave me no choice.”

Fuck this. She leaned sideways, squeezing his hand between her head and shoulder, pinching it there until he drew it away.

“Feisty girl,” he said. “I like that.”

She tried telling him to go fuck himself, but there was too much tape.

“What?” he asked. “What are you trying to say?”

She tried again.

“I can remove that gag if you want. But you gotta be nice. Can you be nice?”

She tried to convey through her eyes what her mouth was unable to say. Mainly, a searing hatred.

“Can you be nice and quiet?” Chuck asked again.

Mira nodded. Sure. She'd be quiet.

“I hope so,” he said as he walked up to her. “Because I hate having to hurt you.” He ripped the tape off with one swift pull. It felt like part of her skin had come off with it. “I bet you know why I'm doing this.”

Oh, she had an idea. She'd always felt uncomfortable around Chuck. Something about him had just been "off." And given her uncovering of Langhorne’s misdeeds, it wasn’t too big a stretch to assume his loyal-to-a-big-fucking-fault personal assistant would be involved too. But still, it was a mind-fuck to watch him lording over her as the evil captor. He'd always seemed awkward and creepy, but through it all, he’d been at least benevolent. Was his true personality so thoroughly heinous?

It couldn’t be, could it? She expected him to break out in laughter at any minute, finally letting her in on the practical joke. But then she remembered—and felt—the throbbing side of her skull that could very well be cracked.

“Yeah, I know why you've kidnapped me,” she said.

“And why is that?” Damn, he didn’t even deny it.

“Because you're scared of going to jail.”

“You're half right. I
am
scared of going to jail. But that's unrelated. The reason I've got you here is to fix what your little virus destroyed.”

“What virus?”

He sneered. “Play dumb one more time and see what happens. I dare you.”

“Fine. But if you're scared of the jail time, then you made a big mistake in tying me up like this. Kidnapping plus whatever else you've got going on with Langhorne.”

“Why are you always so fucking nosy?” he asked. “That's the reason why you're in this mess. I
liked
you. We both did, Langhorne and I. But then you had to start nosing around in our business, and then ratting on us to some security firm?”

Mira's mind raced, wondering where Jackson was, if he was safe. He must be safe. Of course he'd have better sense than Mira to wind up unconscious and tired up in a room somewhere. He'd probably been through scenarios like this hundreds of times. He'd see it coming a mile away. He
had
seen it coming... Jackson had been suspicious that this night was a trap from the very beginning. But she’d insisted on coming anyway. Well, shit.

“You're here because you fucked everything up for me,” said Chuck. He grabbed an open wine bottle and took a swig. “I know it was you. The whole thing crashed right after I caught you messing around with his computer. And then I started watching you, following you with a little help from some handy spyware. Just how many coffees do you drink a day, Mira? But, oddly enough, you seemed to have no idea I was doing it. Now, how is that possible? How could you create such a heinous virus, but then be so clueless about a little digital surveillance?

“I... I don't know what you—”

“Maybe I should bring your date in here and ask him about it?”

“Good luck.”

“Maybe he could explain it all to me.”

“He'd never help you.”

“He would if I had a knife up to both of your throats.” Chuck put the bottle down on a table before looking at Mira, smiling. “Right? Don't you think he would, then?”

Chuck was a total lunatic, and Mira was done talking. She stayed silent. But her silence only seemed to provoke him.

“Huh?” he said, stepping up close to her “You wouldn’t want that right?” He put his small, clammy hand to her throat, squeezing it gently.

“Stop,” she said, choking.

Chuck slid his hand down her throat to her chest, over two straps and then firmly around her breast, holding it and massaging her. “Or would you rather we just keep this between me and you?”

Mira squirmed, unable to move away from his grasp. “Fuck you!” she yelled.

Chuck removed his hand and cocked it back as if preparing to backhand her across the face. “Keep your voice down or you'll get the tape. Or worse.”

“Then stop touching me, you miserable fuck. You're so fucking pathetic.”

Chuck’s face eased up into a smile. “You're always so mean to me,” he said, backing off.

“Was that your first time touching a woman?” Mira asked. “You're a virgin, right?”

Yes, provoke the madman holding you captive, great idea.

But Mira couldn’t hold the words back.

Chuck laughed. He seemed to be having a wonderful time.

“You hate us all so much,” Mira said. “It's amazing.”

“Hate who? Women? No, I just hate rats. You're not a woman, you're a rat.” He took another pull from the wine bottle.

Mira looked around the room for an escape, or a tool. Anything.

“What's going on, Mira? Looking for something?”

“No,” she said, pretending to adjust herself under the tight straps.

“The only way you’re getting out of here is to cooperate with me.”

“What do you want?”

“First, I want to know what you did to my computer. And then I want you to fix it so I can get back in touch with my good friends in Kenya. The delivery is only a few days away and you're gonna have to fix whatever the fuck you did.”

“I can't help you. I don't know how. I got my instructions and carried them out. And that's it.”

“So what you're saying... is that you're useless to me? Is that it?”

“Yes. I am.”

“So I can just go ahead and off you right now, then?”

Don’t give in. Don’t give him the satisfaction.

Mira stared into his eyes, suppressing a cringe at the malevolence she saw deep inside. How could Chuck not care if he was arming small children, for fuck's sake!

“Come on, give yourself some credit. You decrypted our communications; that takes skill. You know how to help me. You're not even trying!”

“How can I try? I don’t know this computer shit. Really.”

“Okay. Fine. I'll make it easy.” Chuck walked behind her again. The door opened and he muttered something to someone out of her line of sight.

“How do you expect to get away with this?” Mira said over her shoulder. “You're being investigated as we speak.”

Chuck came away from the door, his footsteps approaching Mira's chair. “You think it's the first time the senator has been investigated?” With a grunt, Chuck tipped her chair onto one leg and then spun it around until she was facing the door. He dropped the chair back on its legs. “It's a crooked town, and he's got a lot of friends. It'll get dropped, don't you worry.”

Mira heard deep voices and scuffling noises outside the door.

“There's someone I want you to meet,” Chuck said.

“What?”

“I couldn’t find Jackson. But I've got the next best thing.”

Two large men walked in. They were dragging a third man between them, each of them holding onto an arm. At first, Mira couldn’t tell who it was. The man's head was slumped down. He was stripped to his underwear and covered in bruises.

“Okay, that's good,” said Chuck. “Thanks. Just toss him on the ground there.”

The two thugs dropped the man into a heap on the ground. It was an elderly man. White hair. He wasn't moving. Chuck walked over to him and grabbed a handful of whatever white hair he had left, lifting up his head so Mira could see the swollen and bloodied face of her father.

“Dad! No!” Mira cried out at Chuck, sounding like a wounded animal.

“Think you can help me out now?” he asked. “Or do we have to make him look worse?”

“You fucker!” She looked in horror at her father, the frail wisp of a man who seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness.

“I know, I know,” he waved a hand almost dismissively. “Now, listen, I'm going to untie your hands so you can type. But if you try anything stupid, it's game over. Got it?”

“Just stop hurting him,” said Mira, barely able to breathe.

Chuck came around to unbuckle the two straps that were cutting into her arms. “I can't have you hyperventilating like that, Mira. I need you to work.” He flung the straps loose and pushed her head down to her knees. “Take deep breaths. Deep breaths.”

From the moment her hands came loose, Mira had to fight the urge to claw them against Chuck's ugly face. At that moment, as he stood over her, it was an instinct as powerful as breathing, the need to inflict damage at any opportunity. But she needed to think long-term, when she could cause some real pain, like sending his scrawny ass away for life in a maximum security penitentiary.

She delayed the gratification and dug her nails into her thighs instead.

“There you go,” said Chuck softly. “Keep breathing. I just need you to do a little computer work and then everything will be fine.” He slid a laptop over her knees. “Okay, show me what you did.”

Mira looked at an encrypted email on the screen. “What do you mean?” she asked, sniffling.

“Come on,” he said. “What did you use to decrypt this?”

“I didn't.”

“Mira, I told you...” Chuck pulled a black semi-automatic pistol from his waistband. “I told you about playing dumb.” He aimed the gun at her father.

Before Mira could scream she felt the concussion of a gun blast ripple through her body. And then she heard the groans of her father as he gripped his bleeding thigh. He was fully awake now, rocking back and forth in pain.

“The next one's in his head!” Chuck shouted over Mira's screams. “And if you need another one, it'll be
your
head!” He pointed the gun at Mira and she instinctively squirmed away from the muzzle. “But you won't need another one, right? Wasn't one enough? I think your father would agree.”

“Kill me,” her father said. “Kill me and let her go. Please.”

Mira sobbed uncontrollably. “Okay,” she said, “I'll do it, I'll do it.”

“You can read it?” asked Chuck.

“Yes! Yes, I can read it. Just put the gun away.”

“Oh? How can you read it? I thought you were clueless with computers.”

Mira blinked away her tears to get a good look at the screen. “I can translate it,” she said.

“What's the email title?” asked Chuck, lowing the gun slightly.

She squinted at the top lines of text, quickly discerning which line was the title. “The title says... Ship delay.”

“What about the body? What's the rest say?”

“Uh... There's a cargo ship in the mid-Atlantic. Repairs being made. It will take an extra... two extra days.”

“I knew it,” he said, laughing. “I knew you were the code breaker.”

As she looked at the screen, Mira could hear her father groaning again. She'd never heard him make those kinds of noises before.

“Hey, Mr. Swanson. Congratulations. Your daughter is too smart for her own good.”

“Stop talking to him,” Mira barked. “What do you want me to do? Come on, hurry up.” It felt truly disgusting to be offering her help to Chuck. But he was the one holding the gun.

“It's simple,” he said. “Certainly not worth dying over. I want you to pretend you're at work and translate all those emails into English. That's all.”

A sudden beeping sound made Chuck search through his pockets. He pulled out his phone and answered it with a harsh, “What is it? I'm busy.”

“Infiltrators,” said the voice on the other end, loudly enough for Mira to make out what he was saying. “They're making a real mess of things out here.”

“Hold on,” barked Chuck. “I'll be right out.”

The words gave Mira a glimmer of hope. Even though she had two thugs keeping watch on her, she was at least free of Langhorne's lackey. Maybe she could whip up some miraculous plan in his absence. His goons didn’t look all that bright.

“Don't be a hero,” Chuck told Mira before storming out the door.

Fuck that. Nothing would stop her from being a hero. Certainly not Chuck's goons, who could hardly tell the difference between Mira's email reading and something else. She only hoped that Tansy—and the special extra toy he’d built for her—were still watching.