Page 133 of At Her Pleasure
No fucking chance. But because he’d spent ten plus years learning how to contain his strongest emotional reactions, he managed to sound admirably calm. “No. Are you willing to risk your people, your family?”
“What’s the danger of that, for one in-and-out meeting at the ass-end of Texas?”
“It can be zero. Or skyrocket to a hundred percent with one unexpected variable.”
“We can change my appearance. I was raised on the streets, Mick. I ran drug deals and fought in turf wars. Not long, but long enough. I’ve done used car sales and marketing work of all kinds. I know what qualities a buyer and seller have, regardless of the product. I also don’t freak out under pressure or threat of violence. What skills am I missing?”
“She’s a trained agent. You aren’t.”
“That’s an evasion, not an answer.” She crossed her arms, planted her feet shoulder width apart, and used the same reasonable tone, the obstinate woman. Her mind worked too much like his. “Most undercovers start with very little experience; what’s most important is they’re adaptable, cool headed, and keep an eye on the ball.”
And were fucking lucky at the right moments. He eyed her.
“How do you know that?”
“Because one of my regular subs at Progeny was an undercover. We talked a lot, after sessions.”
“So what happened to him?” He could play the same read-my-face game she could, and had latched onto the was. No man who wanted to be her submissive for more than one session walked away. Unless he had to do so. “He’s fucking dead, isn’t he?”
* * *
Cyn knew all his points were valid, but so were hers. So she abandoned that tactic and put it to him straight. “I want to see what you do, and how you do it.”
“Watch a documentary about human trafficking,” he retorted. “I can recommend several. Once you’re on the plane.”
Anger surged. She was going to say something nasty, goad him into a fight, into saying yes. Before she could get the first word out, he’d seized her upper arms and put her against the side of the motorhome, effectively pinning her.
She could try defensive maneuvers to break the grip, but his deadly expression dove right into her head and told her he would be three steps ahead of anything she could try. It made his point brilliantly, but he had more to add to it.
“Are you under the impression I’m not a man?”
“What?”
Bruising fingers bit into her biceps, but his eyes held her just as effectively. “You think because of the things we do together, I’d let you bully me into a situation where you could be tortured, raped or killed? That I would tolerate you being put at risk like that? I would fucking throw you over my shoulder, tie you up and stuff you into a closet to keep you out of harm’s way first.”
Maybe she couldn’t physically match him in this mood, but she had other strengths. She pushed against his hold, meeting his menace with a kiss-my-ass expression. “Try it, and you’ll lose body parts that would severely impact your usefulness to me.”
They stared at one another. As the scathing sarcasm penetrated, Mick’s hold eased. He put her feet on the ground and stepped back. Ran a hand over his face. “Fucking hell. No. Just no, Cyn.”
She was aware of his protective instincts, how strong they made his current wall of resistance. There was only one way to get through it. “You aren’t the only one haunted by your choices. I don’t know where my siblings are. Maybe they’re living a daily hell somewhere halfway around the world, or their bodies are buried with no marker, forgotten forever. My brothers and sisters.”
“Cyn…”
She went toe to toe with him, staring up into his resolute face, that dangerous expression. “I have the right to pay for my sins. You mire yourself in evil with the hope that it’s doing some good, though you never get to see it when it does. I want one chance to help, to stand side by side with you and see your life through your eyes.”
“No.”
Her fists clenched, but she took a breath. “You need a ballsy bitch who will pass as a supplier of high-grade tail. You tell me, truthfully, that she had some skill that would make this go sideways if I’m in her shoes instead, fine. I’ll accept it and get on the plane. But if not…”
She touched his rock-hard jaw. “Fate, the fucking sadist of all sadists, brought us together twice now. Can you really say it isn’t driving this, too?”
Mick muttered an oath and moved away. He kicked a rock so hard, it whistled away into the woods. “Goddamn you.”
He put his hands on his hips. She stayed silent and still. No matter his reaction, she knew the feel of the shift, when a client started to see things her way.
Mick would fight it with a will as formidable as her own, but the detached part of his mind that made it possible to do what he did was already putting the variables into the picture to see if they could accomplish what was needed. That was why he’d cursed her.
“You know if something happened to you, I couldn’t take it. I literally wouldn’t…”