Under Pressure. Lori Foster
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the bakery?”
“Of course.”
“You’re the perfect man, Enoch. Thank you.”
Smiling, Enoch departed and Sahara told Cat, “Please, help yourself.”
She hesitated, but what the heck. If everyone else could be blasé, she’d give it a try too. “All right, thank you.” After swallowing one big bite of a blueberry muffin, she asked, “You’re aware of what happens on the island?”
“Yes, of course. Decadence. Perversion.” Sahara waved a pastry. “Anything and everything sexual that money can buy.”
Leese came around closer to Cat, which she appreciated, and propped a hip on the desk. After a sip of coffee, he asked, “Where is this place?”
“It’s near the Virgin Islands. Uninhabited until twenty or so years ago. Since then it’s been built up and used for...” Cat swallowed, unable to say it.
Sahara didn’t have the same problem. “It’s a privately owned playground for the global ultrarich. Anything goes if you have enough money or influence, preferably both. Many politicians love it for the secrecy. It provides every luxury you can imagine with a small, posh hotel, a helipad for invited guests only and plenty of space for orgies.”
“Orgies?” Leese asked, one brow climbing high.
Sahara nodded around another bite. “Lots of nasty business going on there. Like I said, anything can be bought if you offer the right price, whether it’s legal or not, whether all participants are willing or not.”
Now both of Leese’s brows snapped down. “You’re talking rape?”
“Sadly, yes. There’ve been accusations, some of them truly gruesome, but none have been proven because witnesses have a way of changing their tune, probably after being bought off, or they disappear, likely—”
“Murdered.” The second the word left her mouth, Cat’s stomach jolted. Oh God, she’d said it aloud. She fought off the panic, knowing she’d just crossed a line; she’d admitted the awful truth, trusted these people when for so long she’d been afraid to trust anyone, even her family.
But what choice did she have? She couldn’t continue living her life on the run, and she didn’t want to end up on that island, a victim herself. Sooner or later she had to share it all. For whatever innate reasons existed, she trusted Leese. Really trusted him.
By association, she trusted his closest colleagues. She couldn’t believe he would bring her here, ask her to explain everything to Sahara and Justice, if he didn’t know it would be safe.
On top of that, she was in a secure building, shielded from threats. Justice had already gotten past her guard and, as the owner of the elite bodyguard agency, Sahara seemed to have a measure of her own power.
When would another, better opportunity present itself?
Now that the truth was out there, it brought about a heavy silence. Disbelief? Uncertainty?
Accusation?
Without knowing what they all might think, Cat sipped her coffee and waited in an agony of suspense.
“Jesus,” Justice rumbled, sitting forward now too. He snagged up a cup, black, and swilled back half of it.
Leese shifted uneasily. “And Webb?”
“I don’t know!” Emotions propelled her from her seat. She set the cup aside with more noise than necessary and strode to the window, needing to see the view to breathe, to feel less trapped in the awful circumstances.
The vantage point of the office offered a view of the Ohio River, disturbed only by a few slow-moving barges. Ice and snow lined the shore and a sluggish sun struggled to shine through dark, rolling clouds.
The day looked as miserable as she felt.
Despite the bitter cold of the morning, cars filled the bridges and people went about their business. None of them had a clue what fate could dole out.
That was nice. She didn’t want others to have to be as hyper-aware of threats as she’d recently become.
When she sighed, her warm breath frosted the window.
Knowing she’d stalled too long, Cat whispered, “My stepfather...he knows about it. He might only be involved in covering it up.” Or he could be guilty of the violent acts. She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Leese’s hands settled on her shoulders and he drew her back against his chest, his chin atop her head. He said nothing, just held her, surrounding her in his size and scent and power.
In the reflection of the window, Cat saw Sahara look to Justice for an explanation, and she saw Justice shrug in a “haven’t got a clue” sort of way.
So Leese didn’t embrace every client? This was an aberration for him? Nice to know. But it was still confusing—to her, and obviously to his boss and his colleague.
Clearly, no one understood it, least of all her, but Leese made her feel as if all the bad things in the world couldn’t touch her, not when he was close, and that robbed her of the debilitating panic.
She took one deep breath, then another. “A woman was killed.”
“Who?” Sahara asked sharply.
There’d be no backing out now. Still, she couldn’t tell them everything. She didn’t dare.
The less they knew, the safer they’d be. She’d have to start juggling and, blast it all, she wasn’t that coordinated.
“I only know her name.” Cat pressed closer to Leese, stealing some of his strength. “And her age.”
Leese waited.
Grateful for his patience, she sorted her thoughts. Though she’d already decided these people wouldn’t hurt her, she needed further verification before she said anything more. “I can trust everyone here not to repeat what I’m going to tell you, right? If the wrong people find out—”
“You can trust us,” Sahara assured her.
“Besides,” Leese said, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze, “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, remember?”
He didn’t seem to mind that others were watching, and Cat wasn’t sure what to make of that.
Flustered, she stated, “It can’t leave this room.”
“Then it won’t,” Sahara promised.
Accepting that, Cat drew a breath and whispered, “Georgia Bell. She was only eighteen.”
Justice cursed softly. “So young.”
Wretched grief welled up. Every time Cat thought about it, about a young girl scared and alone and desperate, it broke her heart all over again. That poor, poor girl. How badly had she suffered?
And if the ones responsible found her, would Cat suffer the same fate?
Leese interrupted that thought by rubbing her shoulders. “Do you know how and why she was killed?”
The memory made Cat shiver. “From what I overheard, Georgia was hired to waitress at a private party on the island. Because she was offered so much money, she agreed—but only to waitressing. She didn’t understand that the offer came with certain expectations regardless of how she’d feel about it.”
“Like?” Leese asked.
This was the tricky part, where she had to dance around the truth without revealing too much. “One of my stepfather’s more influential friends—” a name they’d all recognize, if she shared that much “—wanted her for...more. She agreed, to an extent.”
As Cat spoke, the words came faster, more strained, matching the frantic beat of her heart.
“But I guess he took