“Damn. Maybe you’re as good as they say you are.” The woman pivoted on her stool, angling her entire body toward me. “Let’s cut to the chase.”
Glancing down to her impractical heels, I tsked. “If you want to continue being at a point of disadvantage.”
“I know who you are.” She placed her hand between us on the bar.
Was she working for Kozlov? Or was she FBI? She looked too refined for the former and too dumb for the latter.
“You do?” I took a sip of my drink. “Enlighten me, then.”
“You’re Ransom Lockwood of Lockwood and Whitfield Protection Group. A security company based in Chicago. You currently work with Hallie Thorne, daughter of President Anthony Thorne. And you’re an impossible man to hire, which makes me wonder if there’s an interesting backstory behind why you chose to protect the First Daughter.” She raised her glass in a toast, downing it in its entirety.
I motioned for the barkeep to get her a refill.
Expressionless, I turned back to her, not confirming nor denying her words. “Where are you going with this?”
“Where do you want me to go with it?” she purred.
Far the fuck away from me.
I just came here to get cornered by the Bratva, lady.
I shrugged. “You’re the one who’s here with an agenda and my unauthorized Wikipedia page.”
“What did you come here for?” She rested her chin on top of her knuckles.
“A quick fuck,” I was half-lying, half warming up to the idea.
I needed to get Hallie out of my system, out of my head, out of my life. This woman seemed like an unlikely candidate, now that she knew who I was. No matter. Plenty more fishnet stockings in the sea.
“What if you could get out of here with a satisfying fuck and five hundred thousand dollars richer?” She played with the edge of her blazer, exposing slivers of her skin. Of her boring, smooth, unmarked body.
Stop thinking about Hallie. She is not an option.
The bartender reappeared with the second White Russian for the woman, while I still nursed my first Jameson.
“I’d say you are full of bullshit,” I stated.
“Well, that’s because you’re a skeptic. But I’m about to change that.” She offered me her hand. “I’m Anna.”
I stood up, plucking out my wallet and throwing a wad of cash onto the bar. “And I’m out of here.”
“Wait!” She reached for the hem of my shirt, balling it. “Don’t you want to hear my offer?”
“For sex and half a mill?” I arched an eyebrow. “It’s either a pyramid scheme or a job. I’m not interested in either.”
“As I said, you’re a skeptic, and I’m about to change that.” She smoothed a hand over my torso. “Sit down.”
I did, but only because the thought of going back to Hallie’s place and watching her ignore me was strangely unbearable.
“You have three minutes,” I announced.
“I don’t think so. Finish your drink and get another one. I want us to be on an even field when we have this conversation.” She gestured with her chin to my Jameson.
“You’re not in a position to negotiate,” I reminded her.
“Sure I am.” She raised my glass, putting it to my lips. “I offer money, sex, and power. The most sought-after things in the universe. Now, bottoms up.”
Taking another sip, I studied her again. She was good-looking, in an obvious L.A. way. Inflated breasts, lips, and not a wrinkle to be found. She’d probably be good in bed. Women of her range had read all the books and owned the award-winning sex toys.
“What do you want?” I asked bluntly.
“Hallie ‘Hallion’ Thorne’s head on a platter.” She licked her lips, her eyes boring into mine with manic intensity. “I want to know everything about President Thorne’s wild child. All the dirty deets. The interesting secrets. Why she’s alone here? Why she dropped out of college? What it’s like in her big, lonely mansion?”
I thought about Hallie’s dyslexia. Sexual abuse. Fucked-up family life and insecurities. The Thornes were hiding so much. Instead of giving her the support she needed, in case of making her an advocate, lifting her up to the position she deserved, they tucked her away, then were surprised when she became bitter and uncooperative.
“Who do you work for?” I asked.
“Yellow Vault.”
Yellow Vault was one of the worst tabloids out there. Their headlines rarely had anything to do with reality. Whenever I passed by a stack of the wasted paper in a bodega or kiosk while grabbing a coffee, I wondered who was soulless and corrupt enough to come up with these headlines.
PRINCE FREDERIK’S SEX DWARF EATEN BY GIRAFFE.
THE POPE’S DEADLY PARTY BINGE.
PREGNANT BY THE SAME MAN! CAN THESE TWO ACTRESSES SURVIVE THE SHAME?
“Let me get this straight.” I leaned against the bar. “You think I’ll break my NDA and ruin my good name for a chance to earn ten percent of my annual salary and the opportunity to tit-fuck a pair of plastic jugs?”
Anna pushed my fresh drink toward me along the bar, her face impassive. “I think you’re interested. I’ve made it this far with you, haven’t I? Drink up.”
Amused that she thought such an obvious ploy could work on me, I smirked. “If I have another drink, so should you.”
“Deal.” She ordered shots. “And back to our conversation—I don’t know why you’re contemplating taking my offer, but I can tell you are. Might not be the money. And the sex is definitely just a small perk. But whatever’s making you want to go for it—listen to that voice. You’re nothing in the Thorne operation. Just another service provider. And this article will be risk-free, I guarantee. You’ll be an anonymous source. I can sign whatever your lawyer sends my way.”
If Hallie found out I’d sold her secrets, I wouldn’t have to keep away. She’d make sure she had nothing to do with me all on her own. The idea wasn’t completely bad.
Anna and I downed more shots.
She put her hand on my shoulder, letting out a little excited gasp. “Wow. Someone’s been working out.”
“There are rules if you want to have sex,” I said, ignoring her observation. “Non-negotiable, just like my terms for this deal.”
“Let’s hear ’em out.”
She waved to the bartender, ordering more shots.
That’s when I realized I knew Anna.
Up close and personal.
And that she recognized me, too.
Three hours later, I tripped out of a taxi, stumbling my way to Hallie’s front door. I couldn’t take the car. I couldn’t even walk to the car. What I could do was recognize I’d made a terrible mistake, and that I was going to regret it.
After two unsuccessful attempts to punch the security code at the door later, the massive piece of wood swung open on its own accord. Max stood on the other side, looking sleepy, still in his day clothes.
What time was it? I glanced down at my watch. Four in the morning. Great.
“Everything okay, boss?” Max asked, stepping sideways to allow me entrance. I zigzagged to the kitchen, the room around me spinning. I didn’t drink much. At least, not that much. Which led me to believe the ever-resourceful Anna had spiked one of my shots after she’d realized I recognized her, probably while I was busy checking my phone for texts from a certain Hallion.