n European way of the top super models. Natasha Simcova, however, was a bit too curvy, a bit too short, a bit too rough around the edges to be truly photogenic. There was a sadness about her, a brittle hardness that warned she’d shatter if handled too roughly. Still, Loki was pretty damned sure the woman could bust balls with the best of them.
And if she’d been compatriots of the Marcogonoffs and the KGB, then she was just as dangerous as they were. Just as secretive and suspicious too. One didn’t get to be the top supplier of escorts in a town that prided itself on its discretion and righteous superiority without being able to keep silent. They wouldn’t let Loki and M just show up to one of their meet and greet parties without a viable reason. Cam had texted that there just happened to be a party tonight, at Simcova’s private townhouse in D.C. Now all they needed was the cover.
“Any ideas how we can get in?” he asked, glancing up at M from over the top of his tablet screen. “We don’t want Simcova on to us.”
M blinked at him. “I’ve got an idea. But I don’t think you’ll like it.”
“What is it?”
“We pretend to be a French couple, in town for only a few nights on business. And we want a threesome.”
Loki considered the idea. It wasn’t bad. “How will that give us a chance to talk to Simcova though?”
“She’ll be the third party in our little ménage á trois,” M said, smiling. “We get her alone, then we confront her.”
“Right.” Loki sat back and crossed his arms, doing his best not to focus on the images now crowding his mind of M and Natasha together, doing all sorts of naughty things to each other and to him. His cock gave an appreciative twitch, and he scowled. “Are we sure she’s got intel on Martin and his parents?”
“Hell yeah.” M turned her computer to face him. “According to the files I found, she linked up with them before she ever left Kazakhstan. And the KGB ties were strong in her family too. She had an uncle and a brother in with the organization. I’d say if anyone knows what Martin’s been up to while he’s been in town, it’s Simcova.”
Now, four hours later, Loki stood in front of the full-length mirror in M’s apartment again, this time adjusting his black suit jacket over his jeans and T-shirt. He wasn’t sure what one wore to visit a modern-day brothel, never having need of one himself. He’d never had a problem getting women into his bed. Getting them out was another matter entirely. Maybe someday he’d find a woman he wanted to stay with him forever—a woman who challenged him mentally, physically, and sexually—but until then, he was content with short-term flings and no strings attached.
“Ready?” M asked, coming around the privacy screen where she’d been changing and causing his breath to lodge in his chest.
She looked… Well, she looked very, uh…
“Wow,” was the most he found himself able to say. He’d thought M had looked spectacular in that red evening dress the night before, but now she looked downright incredible. Long slim legs encased in fitted black pants. A tailored black jacket that hugged her curves in all the right places on top, sans shirt underneath, revealing a tantalizing V of creamy flesh on her torso. Black stiletto heels on her feet. He’d never really been a foot man before, but Jesus. If those shoes didn’t scream Fuck Me Now, he didn’t know what did.
She brushed past him, her short black hair artfully disheveled and her makeup minimal—just mascara, a hint of blush, and ruby red, infinitely kissable lips. Her scent—cinnamon, roses, and warm, clean woman—enveloped him in a cloud of lust and Loki knew then that he was in more trouble than ever. This was supposed to be about the mission. Supposed to be about saving his company and moving forward into his future.
Except right now, all he could think about was the beautiful woman by his side and what he wouldn’t give to have her, all of her, even for just one night. Summoning every ounce of fortitude he possessed, Loki gave a curt nod and headed for the door. He’d talk to Simcova, get the new leads they needed to go after Todd Martin, then he’d come back here and take care of business in the shower. Alone. “Ready.”
If M noticed his heightened state of arousal, she gave no indication. In fact, she barely gave him the time of day at all as they drove from her apartment in Arlington across the Potomac River, and into the chic urban neighborhood of Friendship Heights. The irony of the name wasn’t lost on Loki. Simcova and her cohorts got way more than friendly with their clients, that was for sure.
He pulled the SUV up outside of a modern glass and steel building on Military Road and got out, handing his keys to the valet before walking around to help M from the vehicle. Her hand felt small and delicate in his and for the first time, he felt a surge of protectiveness toward her. Yes, she could fight better than most men he knew, and she was smart as a whip. But there seemed to be a lingering sadness about her ever since they’d started discussing Simcova and he couldn’t figure out why. He was determined to get the answer though, before all this was over.
They stopped at a security desk inside the pristine marble lobby and gave their names. Cam was supposed to have set up their invitations to Simcova’s soiree tonight.
“Use the elevators over there, Mr. Smith,” the guard said, pointing to the right without looking at Loki. “Fifth floor, third door on the left.”
He ran through the directions as though he spoke them many times a day. Given the amount of business Simcova’s Empyrean Consultants did a week, Loki wasn’t surprised.
Loki thanked the guy then led M over to a set of golden doors and pressed the button. He cast her a sideways grin. “All set, Mrs. Smith?”
“Always, Mr. Smith,” she said, smiling back, though he could still see a hint of tension and uncertainty around her mouth and eyes. “Always.”
The elevator dinged and they stepped onboard. Once Loki had pushed the fifth-floor button and they jerked upwards, he turned to M again. “We don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to.”
“Yes, we do. We need to find Martin. This is the best way to do it.”
“No, I mean the whole threesome cover.” He sighed. “If you don’t—”
The elevator dinged again and the doors opened, ending their discussion.
“It’s fine.” M walked out first, shoulders back and head held high, the picture of confidence and strength. If Loki hadn’t glimpsed the vulnerability beneath, he might’ve been fooled too. Still, she was right. This was their best shot at getting a lead on Martin’s new whereabouts. M looked back at him over her shoulder, her expression annoyed. “C’mon, cowboy. Don’t tell me you’re chickening out on me now.”
Loki exhaled slowly, then followed her down the hall to the third door on the left then knocked. “Here we go.”
A young woman in her twenties, Asian with long sleek black hair and short red fingernails, answered the door. “Mr. and Mrs. Smith?”