kidnapped, understanding as much as possible about slave juice would be helpful.
Correction-- when she freed the people Mario had kidnapped.
"I have a better idea." Mario's accent had thickened. "You show me how good you are and maybe I'll consider letting you play with my army."
"Is your army all you want me to play with?"
Mario laughed, and the sound faded into a groan. Angela didn't need too much of an imagination to figure out what they were doing. Running her fingers through her hair, she lowered her head, closing her eyes once again and resting her forehead on her palms. There wasn't much to listen to now, an occasional moan and shuffling sounds. She didn't want them fucking. She wanted them giving her information. No matter how many times she did undercover work, patience wasn't one of her strong points.
Although sometimes pillow talk provided very important clues, so far all the two of them were doing was grunting.
"Time for that shower," Angela muttered, having no desire to listen to the asshole fuck. Anything they said would be recorded.
Angela pulled clean clothes from the closet where she'd unpacked and arranged them the day she'd checked in. After showering she planned on finding out what Jake King was doing in her hotel. Her tummy quickened as the image of him staring at her in the lobby filled her brain. Sexual tension had shot across that lobby, and it grew stronger by the moment.
"He is going to find you," she whispered, a mixture of excitement and nervous anticipation twisting her tummy into a fierce knot, when Mario and the woman started talking again.
"So, do we have an arrangement?" the woman asked.
"Is this how you seal all of your deals?" Mario's soft tone didn't sound amused or exhausted. He sounded crisp and all business.
"Not all of them." There was a short scuffling sound.
"All you've convinced me today is you give one mean blow job and know how to fuck in the back of a car better than a lot of sluts I've been with."
"Go to hell," the woman hissed, sounding pissed. "If you're going to win this goddamn game you're going to need an army larger than--"
"Don't tell me what I need to do to win the game," Mario roared, interrupting her and pounding against something that created an annoying scraping sound. "The other players don't stand a chance."
What Angela wouldn't do to learn who the rest of the players were in the game. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest she could barely breathe. Even slow, deep breaths didn't calm her down. She was so close to learning significant information about the game. Suddenly she needed to call her father again. There was so much to fill him in on.
"God forbid I tell you how to do anything." The woman was undaunted. "What I do know is you can increase the size of your army tenfold with my drug and control them easier than you are now."
My drug?
Angela froze, her jaw dropping as her heart quit beating. The woman in the car was Evelyn Van Cooper, the inventor of slave juice.
"Well, I'll be damned," Angela muttered, reaching for her phone to try her father again.
The hotel phone next to her bed started ringing.
"What the hell?" she gasped. That phone hadn't rung once since she'd arrived at the Drake. No one knew her room number other than her father, and he would reach her on her cell, not on the room phone.
She stared at the phone sitting next to her bed, watching the small red light glow as it rang a second time. Mario and Evelyn had quit talking. Angela hadn't heard car doors open and close, but the phone ringing might have distracted her.
Angela reached for the phone before it rang a third time. "Hello?"
"Come to room two-twelve."
"What?" Angela whispered, her heart beating harder than it was a few minutes ago. "Who is this?"
"Think back a year ago and I believe you'll remember," a man's voice said.
"What will I remember?" she asked, managing a softer tone and sitting on the edge of the bed. She straightened her legs, looking at her painted
Correction-- when she freed the people Mario had kidnapped.
"I have a better idea." Mario's accent had thickened. "You show me how good you are and maybe I'll consider letting you play with my army."
"Is your army all you want me to play with?"
Mario laughed, and the sound faded into a groan. Angela didn't need too much of an imagination to figure out what they were doing. Running her fingers through her hair, she lowered her head, closing her eyes once again and resting her forehead on her palms. There wasn't much to listen to now, an occasional moan and shuffling sounds. She didn't want them fucking. She wanted them giving her information. No matter how many times she did undercover work, patience wasn't one of her strong points.
Although sometimes pillow talk provided very important clues, so far all the two of them were doing was grunting.
"Time for that shower," Angela muttered, having no desire to listen to the asshole fuck. Anything they said would be recorded.
Angela pulled clean clothes from the closet where she'd unpacked and arranged them the day she'd checked in. After showering she planned on finding out what Jake King was doing in her hotel. Her tummy quickened as the image of him staring at her in the lobby filled her brain. Sexual tension had shot across that lobby, and it grew stronger by the moment.
"He is going to find you," she whispered, a mixture of excitement and nervous anticipation twisting her tummy into a fierce knot, when Mario and the woman started talking again.
"So, do we have an arrangement?" the woman asked.
"Is this how you seal all of your deals?" Mario's soft tone didn't sound amused or exhausted. He sounded crisp and all business.
"Not all of them." There was a short scuffling sound.
"All you've convinced me today is you give one mean blow job and know how to fuck in the back of a car better than a lot of sluts I've been with."
"Go to hell," the woman hissed, sounding pissed. "If you're going to win this goddamn game you're going to need an army larger than--"
"Don't tell me what I need to do to win the game," Mario roared, interrupting her and pounding against something that created an annoying scraping sound. "The other players don't stand a chance."
What Angela wouldn't do to learn who the rest of the players were in the game. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest she could barely breathe. Even slow, deep breaths didn't calm her down. She was so close to learning significant information about the game. Suddenly she needed to call her father again. There was so much to fill him in on.
"God forbid I tell you how to do anything." The woman was undaunted. "What I do know is you can increase the size of your army tenfold with my drug and control them easier than you are now."
My drug?
Angela froze, her jaw dropping as her heart quit beating. The woman in the car was Evelyn Van Cooper, the inventor of slave juice.
"Well, I'll be damned," Angela muttered, reaching for her phone to try her father again.
The hotel phone next to her bed started ringing.
"What the hell?" she gasped. That phone hadn't rung once since she'd arrived at the Drake. No one knew her room number other than her father, and he would reach her on her cell, not on the room phone.
She stared at the phone sitting next to her bed, watching the small red light glow as it rang a second time. Mario and Evelyn had quit talking. Angela hadn't heard car doors open and close, but the phone ringing might have distracted her.
Angela reached for the phone before it rang a third time. "Hello?"
"Come to room two-twelve."
"What?" Angela whispered, her heart beating harder than it was a few minutes ago. "Who is this?"
"Think back a year ago and I believe you'll remember," a man's voice said.
"What will I remember?" she asked, managing a softer tone and sitting on the edge of the bed. She straightened her legs, looking at her painted
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