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  Damaged goods were damaged goods. And that came at a cost.

  “If the men we’d hired to gather the girls hadn’t been so stupid, all would have been fine.”

  “The men you hired. Own your mistakes, and learn from them. Then do not repeat them, at all.” It was one of her late husband’s favorite axioms.

  Her stepson had always hated listening to his father on such things. Now with her husband gone, God rest his soul, it fell to her to remind this young man of his father’s wisdom.

  Her heart softened toward him when he looked at her with the eyes he’d inherited from his father. He did favor her husband, a great deal more even than her youngest did. “Just remember that every time something like this happens, there is a cost. Are you sure no one saw your men at the house?”

  “Positive. And with the storm, no one heard anything, either. As far as the cops are concerned—” He paused a moment to sip the drink in his hand. “As far as the cops are concerned, it was probably a random home invasion, most likely by someone the victims knew. Other illegals.”

  “And the girl?”

  “They removed her things from the house. Took and burned any photos, though there weren’t many. No sign a teen girl was anywhere near that property.”

  “Good. So no one left to identify anyone.”

  “We’re good. And the body of the girl is disposed of. It was as if she never existed.”

  It had better be. He’d taken too much of a shine to the young girl; so much so that he’d decided to sample the wares before moving her down the supply chain. And when the girl had protested, he’d hit her too hard.

  The girl had been breathing when he was finished with her, but hadn’t opened her eyes again.

  She hadn’t wanted to give the order, but what else was she supposed to do? Her business supported her entire family, and it funded her charitable organizations. She couldn’t afford for the empire she’d built to crumble because her stepson played a little too hard with an illegal Russian whore.

  And when he’d proven too squeamish to clean up his own mess, when the girl had been sprawled across the bed in their summer house, of all places, she’d taken the pillow and finished off the problem herself.

  No one sullied her family business. Not even her stepson. And especially not a piece of Russian waste.

  “Don’t screw up again.”

  Chapter Nine

  Payton knew what a phone call at five in the morning most likely meant. She wasn’t called in very often, but sometimes her particular expertise was needed immediately, and as head of her three-person department she was on-call for emergencies. She grabbed the cell on the night table and blinked at the display. She didn’t recognize the number. But that didn’t really mean anything. She hit the accept button, hoping the call meant they’d found her friend Al, who’d been missing for almost a week. Carrie had been found a few days before. But Al…Al was still out there, somewhere. And in serious trouble. “Hello?”

  “Did you like the car?” A warm low male voice asked. “I picked it out myself.”

  “What? Who is this?” She sat up and flicked on the light. “Mr. Lucas?”

  “Luc. To you, I am Luc. Only those closest to me can call me that. So did you like it? It has all the top of the line features.”

  “And a few that weren’t included in the standard model.” She fought to keep the bite out of her words. When she’d finally relented and told him he could replace her car, she was expecting one of comparable value to the one she’d lost.

  She hadn’t expected the luxury two-door he’d delivered. It had had thirteen miles on the odometer. And every upgrade imaginable. Some she still hadn’t figured out yet.

  She’d half felt that she’d need an engineering degree just to figure out how to start it. It had arrived the day after she’d been at his home and she still didn’t know how she felt about the car.

  “I had a few safety features added.”

  “Expensive ones.”

  “Don’t worry about the cost, Payton. And most of those upgrades were designed by my company. Negligible cost. The car itself is one out of my personal collection. I’ve never driven it, just purchased it to use with the prototypes. Drive it for a while and tell me how you like it. I’ll write it off as market research.”

  “So why are you calling so early? Just to check on the car? It’s so early…and I need to get up and go to work soon. And I worked late last night.” Everyone at PAVAD was pulling together to find Al. Payton had worked a double shift.

  “I saw the news about Agent Brockman. Still not found her?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “I have my men keeping their eyes open. I have businesses stretching from here to the Mexican border.”

  “It’s appreciated. So why are you calling?” The last two days had been filled with work and Payton had been too busy to think about what had happened with Davis Lucas. Almost.

  He crept into her thoughts whenever she was least expecting it. She forced herself to shove him aside as ruthlessly as possible.

  “I’m calling because I need an escort this evening. And you’re going to be it.”

  “Excuse me?” Had he just said what she thought he had? “I’m not escorting you anywhere.”

  “Of course you are. I could ask Cody, but since Lucy has had the flu I don’t think she’d want to leave her. And you wouldn’t want her to, now would you?”

  Was he really going to blackmail her into going out with him? Was he insane? She was starting to think he was. “That doesn’t mean that I have to go with you, Mr. Lucas.”

  “No. I don’t suppose you do. Of course, I could pressure Cody. And we both know she’d feel obligated, since I was the one who found Lucy. You know how Cody likes to pay her debts.”

  “You’re a bastard, aren’t you?”

  “No doubt about that, sweetheart. I don’t think my mother even knew my father’s last name. So…I’ll have a dress sent to your office around four. That should give you plenty of time to get ready.”

  “I’m not going with you.”

  “Then I’ll call the media now, and let it leak about the forensic scientist—handwriting expert, to be exact—I’m having a mad, passionate affair with, who is currently carrying my love child. Twins, possibly. I’m sure the tabloids will carry that story all the way up to Indiana. And I think I can find a great photograph of you to accompany it. What do you think those seven brothers of yours will think? Or your boss when those idiot paparazzi camp out on the PAVAD front entrance?” She heard the laughter in his voice. Was he serious? Would he really…

  “You can’t…”

  “I’ll have the limo at your place by seven.”

  “Wait! You can’t just force a woman to go out with you; that’s crazy.”

  “Then just tell me no. That’s all you have to do; but be ready for the consequences.”

  ***

  She couldn’t honestly be that naïve, could she? He would never do anything to hurt her, or embarrass her. And he never would have forced her hand. But he needed her. Ironic, considering the circumstances of how they’d last met and parted, but he needed her now.

  He already had a dress ordered for her, and he’d had his personal assistant guess her size from a photo he’d had in the dossier.

  He had that file spread over the foot of his bed where he’d had it for an hour. He tended to keep his own hours, sleeping when he wanted and waking when he wanted. He’d been up since three-thirty, thoughts racing over the next part of his plan.

  He’d found thirty-six girls to date. There were still so many out there.

  And whether she liked it or not, Payton Asher could help him find more.

  So he would use her, employing any means necessary. He picked up the photo that had accompanied the security report. She looked so beautiful, so sweet. She was dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans again. That was all he’d ever seen her in, wasn’t it?

  What would she look like in a dress that bared her figur
e more than shapeless sweatshirts and jeans?

  No, he wouldn’t lie to himself. He found her so intriguing, so alluring. Why wouldn’t he?

  She was everything he’d ever wanted, really, but knew he’d never have. A woman like her was too innocent and pure for a man like him.

  He’d use her for what he needed and then he’d walk out of her life completely. It was far better for her that way.

  Chapter Ten

  The dress fit too perfectly. How had he managed? Payton felt beautiful in it, and if she wasn’t there because he’d blackmailed her, she would be half excited about it. This was supposed to be one of the most premier parties in St. Louis, and she was going with St. Louis’s most eligible billionaire.

  Who’d blackmailed her into accompanying him. No wonder she felt so sick.

  She’d debated and argued with herself all day over whether she was going. The dress had arrived at the front desk promptly at four o’clock, and she’d been buzzed by the security department to pick it up. She’d pulled it out of the garment bag—bearing the logo of the most exclusive dress shop in the city, which she’d googled after seeing the label, since she didn’t know anything about such a store—and fallen in love with the hunter green silk.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She could smell him. No surprise; it was his bedroom, after all. He’d called her at quarter after four to get her final decision. She’d agreed when he started whistling. Every time she’d tried to say no he’d whistled. Finally, she’d given in just get him to stop. She’d even hung up on him once. He’d called right back. Still whistling.

  Whistling. To get what he wanted. He really was crazy.

  An hour later she had to call him back and let him know she was running late, thanks to Al walking in the PAVAD bullpen out of nowhere and setting the entire division on its ear. As far as Payton knew, most of the Complex Crimes Unit was still at the building, trying to figure out who’d nearly killed Seth Lorcan. Luc had the limo pick her up directly in front of PAVAD and he’d brought her back to his home.

  At least the lights were on this time, where she could change into the dress, shoes, and stockings. She’d had to go on her lunch hour to buy underwear to go under her dress. But after one look at the dress, the bra would be a definite no-go.

  Luc had said he’d had the main entryway gutted and rewired after the bombing—and he’d worked quickly. Now there was no smell of smoke anywhere. Ren and Rath had greeted her like old friends, and she’d spent a moment patting and talking to them.

  He’d led her to the bedroom with only a minimum of flirting, and told her to get ready. Unless she wanted him to help. The bed was huge and covered in dark blue silk. Why did he need a bed that big? Her cheeks heated when she thought of the things he could be doing in that bed.

  She wouldn’t think about that. That wasn’t why she was here.

  She was here because he’d caught her at a weak moment and forced her into it. That was why she was in this dress and too tight stockings—she’d never worn a garter belt in her life.

  She slipped her glasses into her purse. A little bit of vanity on her part. She wasn’t going to a fancy dinner with her glasses and ponytail. She left her hair down, but used his mirror to apply a little extra makeup. She wouldn’t go to extremes—this wasn’t a real date, after all. But she wouldn’t go with him tonight looking like a country bumpkin, either.

  When she was finished, she was pleased with the results. Would he be?

  He obviously felt she could handle tonight or he wouldn’t have wanted her to go with him. Or did he not have anyone else in his blackmail list available?

  Had everyone else he’d asked told him no?

  Wasn’t she the lucky one?

  ***

  He was waiting for his date in the half finished living room. She’d barely glanced at him since he’d fetched her, and he was chomping at the bit to have a touch of fun with her before they headed out.

  Something about Payton had him reverting back to that cliché of the little boy pulling pigtails because he liked a little girl. Something he’d definitely never done before.

  Finally, he heard her footsteps mingled with those of the dogs. He poured a second glass of wine and had it ready when she came out of the hall area and stepped down into the recessed living room. For once he found himself at a loss for words. He knew she was a pretty woman in that sweet girl-next-door kind of way, but this woman before him was damned beautiful. Her hair had some wave to it—was that natural or had she done something to make it look half tangled from a man’s fingers—the green of her dress made her eyes look even more unusual, and she’d painted her lips a light pink that had him remembering just how sweet she’d tasted a few days ago.

  She took the wine when he handed it out to her, but took only a sip. “Thank you. I don’t think this is going to work.”

  He found his voice. “And why not?”

  “I’m not the type of person to go to a dinner at the mayor’s for the governor. I won’t know what to say and I won’t know what to do. And there will be reporters there. I don’t understand why you didn’t ask someone else—like Cody.”

  He had some very good reasons for not asking Cody, but there was no way he was going to share those reasons with this girl.

  He’d wanted her because she was unremarkable, for one thing. She wouldn’t draw attention her way, and he’d needed a date. A man in his position had to have an attractive, well-mannered, articulate woman at his side at these types of functions.

  Cody would have been too beautiful, would have drawn too much attention for what he needed to do. Now he feared Payton would, too. She was the kind of woman that a man could feel comfortable with, and he doubted he’d be the only one to see that. Men would seek her out. Damn it.

  “You will do just fine. Just mind your manners and don’t slurp your soup. And don’t laugh when the mayor does. Trust me—I learned that lesson the hard way.” She was scared, nervous—it was so easy to see that. And he knew she didn’t want to be there in the first place. The expression in her eyes made him feel like a first class bastard, did she know that? He brushed a hand down the arm left bare. She shivered and her eyes darkened.

  He wanted to grab her right then and haul her back to his bed. The urge was just that damned strong.

  Why did this woman push those particular buttons of his faster than any other he’d ever met? He’d never got off on the girl-next-door type. Or even blondes. He far preferred sexy brunettes like Cody.

  Yet this woman had him hotter than he’d been in years, with just one tiny touch of his skin on hers. Not like she’d made any overture toward him at all. “Come. We don’t want to be late.”

  She crossed her arms over the somewhat daring neckline. “I don’t want to do this.”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “No, you ordered.”

  “And you obeyed.” He was just an ass enough to imagine having her in other situations where she obeyed his commands. Willingly. And with a lot less clothes between them. “Like a good little girl.”

  “I’m hardly a girl anymore.”

  “No. You are definitely a woman.” He deliberately leered at that neckline. “And a beautiful one, at that. I tell you what—I’ll call and make my apologies to the mayor. You and I will go back down the hall and I’ll see what that dress is barely hiding. We can spend the night enjoying each other in every way imaginable, instead of spending the next two hours attempting to chew through rubber chicken and fawning over the governor. I’d far rather do that than make small talk with idiots. And I suck at fawning. So, what do you say, rubber chicken or bouncing around on the bed with me?”

  “That’s not going to happen. I don’t have sex with blackmailers. I thought we’d established that already.”

  “I would never blackmail a woman for sex. Remember that.”

  “Would you have to?” Red hit her cheeks and he laughed. “I mean, with all of your money, I’m sure there has to be at least one woman o
ut there who would look past your obvious personality flaws long enough to sleep with you if you asked.”

  “Would you?”

  “Hardly.”

  He wouldn’t admit it, but her rejection stung a bit. A bit more than it should; he knew that intellectually. Why should she want to be with him, after all?

  She had too much self-respect to be with him. He got that.

  “I may have to change your mind about that before the night’s over.”

  He led the way to where his limo and security detail waited. He helped her into the back of the car, trying not to gawk when he realized that the back of her dress was far smaller than the front. Or at least, it was missing far more material. And it was obvious that she wasn’t wearing a bra—or at least not much of one.

  He’d seen women in far more scandalous clothing. But none that had made him want to touch the way Payton did.

  “Why did you really ask me? I know Cody could have gone with you. I’ve babysat for Lucy before when Cody went out—with you, I think.”

  “Cody doesn’t have the particular skill set that I need later tonight.”

  “And I do?”

  “You’re the only handwriting analyst that I know, sweetheart. How quickly can you look at something and tell me if it’s the same person?”

  “That’s why you asked me? To work?”

  “Of course.” He shot her an innocent look. “It’s not like I have ulterior motives. Well, none that you haven’t already figured out. I’m still planning on gobbling you up later.”

  “Couldn’t you have just emailed me the writing samples? I could have done that at home for you! I didn’t have to go to all of this trouble.”

  “But…I don’t have both samples. I have one. And tonight we need to find the other.” He pulled the note out of his tux pocket. “Once again, how quickly can you tell me if something is a match?”