“What?”

“No jewelry in the room. I’m sorry.”

She nodded and removed her earrings, a bracelet, and her necklace, setting them next to the phone. He said, “Your Bluetooth as well.”

Uh-oh. “Why? That can’t hurt anyone. I use it to talk to my security.”

“You don’t need security. Please. Remove it.”

She debated, then did as he asked. He said, “Thank you. Your purse as well.”

No way. Deal breaker.

She opened it, saying, “This is for the client.” Inside were a bottle of lubricant, a tube of lipstick, and several condoms. Hidden in the lining was the thumb drive.

He poked his finger around the inside, pressing the lining and causing her to hold her breath. He nodded. “Is okay. Follow me.”

She felt the eyes of the other three men on her as she walked to the main bedroom, the large Arab leading the way. He stopped and knocked on the door, saying something in Arabic. There was a muffled reply, and he opened the door.

She entered, seeing Panda lying on the bed in a bathrobe, the front open, exposing his erection, large folds of flab dripping onto the bedspread. About as disgusting a sight as she could imagine.

He looked her up and down and said, “Beautiful as always.”

She scanned the room and saw a laptop on the desk by the bed. Bingo. She heard the door close behind her, then felt movement, startling her. The large Arab had remained in the room.

Panda saw her reaction and said, “Don’t worry. He only watches.”

8

I saw Jennifer enter the room, feeling a little like a pimp. Disgusted with myself. As the door closed I almost wished Panda had been gay. Then I would have sent in Knuckles without any qualms. Hippie hair and pretty-boy face—he’d be perfect.

As we backed away from the door, Knuckles saw my grin slip out. We moved a respectful distance down the hall away from the two security men and Knuckles asked, “What’s funny?”

I said, “Nothing. Just thinking about the mission.”

Our earpieces came alive. “Pike, this is Retro. Camera’s in place, but they made her remove her earpiece.”

I glanced at Knuckles. “Why?”

“She had to remove all of her jewelry. Probably just a security precaution.”

Retro knew what I was going to ask next. “Don’t worry. I’m getting good audio from the laptop in the den. I can hear well enough.”

“Even when she’s in the bedroom? With a closed door?”

“Well, no. Not if she’s not shouting.”

Knuckles saw my face and said, “Don’t even think it. She made the call to go in. She could have aborted. Let her play it out.”

Retro came back on. “Uhh . . . Pike, the head of security went in with her and he hasn’t come back out.”

I took one step toward the door, and Knuckles grabbed my arm. “Don’t. She can handle herself. Don’t let your emotions get in the way here. She’s just a teammate. Let her solve the problem.”

What he really meant was I told you this fraternization would become an issue. Did I want to go in because a teammate was in trouble, or because it was Jennifer? I tried but honestly couldn’t separate the two. I locked eyes with him and he slowly shook his head. I knew if I went in, he would question my judgment forever. Just like I was questioning it right now.

I keyed my Bluetooth and said, “Retro, roger. Keep eyes on.”

*   *   *

Jennifer turned back around to the fat Panda and said, “I’d rather he didn’t stay. This isn’t a show. It’s all about pleasing you and you alone.”

Panda scowled and said, “He stays. I pay you well enough to do anything I want. In fact, when we’re done, you can pleasure him as a reward.”

Great. Well, he’s about to leave, you fat little Jabba the Hutt.

She turned on the megawatt smile and said, “Okay,” then motioned to the security chief. “Can you give me a hand with my dress?”

She kept her eyes on Panda, watching his own widen as the dress slipped over her shoulders. She said, “You must wear protection, you know?”

He said, “No, no. I paid extra. I’m not unclean.”

The dress pooled at her feet and she saw his breathing increase. She twirled around, wearing nothing but her bra and panties, still dressed in her Jimmy Choos, and said, “You want this, you wear protection.”

He said, “I don’t have any.”

She saw his lust and knew she held the cards.

“I have one,” she said.

She pulled out the poison-laced condom packet and tossed it to him on the bed, wondering how long the ABS took to work and beginning to believe the security chief had missed getting it on him.

Panda gave what he thought was a sultry smile and said, “You want me to wear it, you put it on.”

You have got to be kidding.

She winked at him, hiding the desperation building like a freight train picking up speed, and said, “I’m going to freshen up. You be ready when I get back.”

She started to move to the bathroom when the security chief doubled over, holding his stomach. He stood up and looked physically tortured, gritting his teeth so hard she thought she could hear the grind. He shouted something in Arabic and raced out of the room.

Panda said, “Looks like you got your wish. Something he ate.”

She flashed the megawatt and sauntered into the bathroom, feeling his eyes boring into her bottom. She closed the door and sat on the toilet, breathing heavily.

She waited for an eternity, fearing she would hear him call, ordering her to apply the condom. Just get it over with. How bad can it be? You still have on your gloves. They’re sterile.

She gathered her courage and stood up just as Panda came flying into the bathroom, robe trailing behind and limp penis flopping under his flabby belly, successfully encased in a condom.

He screamed, “Get out, get out!”

And she did, closing the door behind her. She heard an explosion of gas, and what sounded like someone pouring muddy water into the toilet, then a moan.

She grinned, racing to her clutch. She dumped the contents, tore open the lining, and pulled out Retro’s thumb drive. She leapt across the bed, jammed it into the port, and powered up the computer. According to Retro, passwords and other security were irrelevant. If it started blinking red, it was working.

The computer beeped and blinked, a small hourglass turning in circles on the screen forever, and she wondered if it had some protection against their exploit.

Come on, come on.

The thumb drive light blinked red, a rapid strobe. She smiled, and the door behind her burst open.

She whirled around, seeing the three remaining security personnel. One shouted at her in Arabic, another ran to the bathroom. The third charged, a tall African with long, ropy braids.

She screamed, “Buffalo! Buffalo, buffalo, buffalo!”

The African reached her and she raised her fists. She struck him once in the head and he bodily threw her across the room, slamming her into the wall. She fell to her hands and knees next to the contents of her clutch. She snatched up the lipstick tube and stood.

She kicked off her heels, ripped off the lid, and jabbed it forward, waving it back and forth like a knife. The man laughed at her and said something to his partner. The first man returned from the bathroom and rattled off something in Arabic. Their faces grew grim, and they advanced on her.

Keep them off of you. Seconds. Only need seconds.

The African darted forward, and she slashed his face with the lipstick. He batted her hand away, the lipstick tube flying across the room, and he slapped her cheek with a glancing blow. She tucked her head and tried to knee his groin. The second man reached her and both began punching.