Their Virgin Hostage, Masters of Ménage, Book 5 by Lexi Blake, Shayla Black Page A

smile
women often do, the one that looks a little evil and makes you wait for things
to start falling. You know what I’m talking about?”
    Annabelle could be a bit mysterious, but he had other
problems now. “Did you check through her luggage? I don’t want to find a cell
phone.”
    Cell phones had GPS. GPS meant they were up shit creek and
all his careful planning had been for nothing.
    “I left it sitting on the table in the living area of the
suite.”
    Not good enough. There had been a ton of people going
through that bridal suite all day long. “How do you know it was hers?”
    “Have you looked at her? Look, man, it was in her room and
it was pink and blinged within an inch of its life.
She seems to like little fake diamonds on everything. I don’t get it.”
    He was going to have Law’s head. It had been a sloppy
operation. Law should have made damn sure that was her phone. He could forgive
Riley, who was usually behind the scenes, but Law knew damn well how to run an
op. Now Dominic had to check through the luggage to make sure they weren’t
going to be met by feds when they landed in River Run.
    “Why did Law decide to bring a half ton of designer luggage
with us?”
    Dominic knew he shouldn’t, but he stared across the aisle.
Her blonde hair was the color of honey. The pictures didn’t capture its natural
beauty. Lighter shades threaded through the darker ones, forming a gorgeous
honey and amber color that contrasted beautifully with her skin.
    Porcelain. Her skin was like porcelain, perfect and creamy
white.
    He needed to remember that porcelain, while beautiful, was
also cold.
    “He was worried she might need something in there,” Riley
answered with a touch of disbelief, as if he, too, thought his brother had gone
mental.
    “So he wanted to be the guy who brought all her clothes
along. He’s going to kill me over this.” He pulled the first bag free and slid
the zipper around. The top popped open as though deeply happy at being free.
She’d stuffed the bag to the hilt. “Holy shit. How many pairs of jeans does one
woman need?”
    There were at least a dozen pairs of jeans in the case, each
with more and more elaborately placed rhinestones across the pockets that would
hug her ass. It was like Las Vegas had taken over her luggage. Every eye in the
world would go straight to her ass because there was no way anyone could miss
it.
    “There seems to be a theme here. She likes shiny objects.
Maybe if we get some jewelry we can distract her enough so she’ll just give us
all the intel we need,” Dominic offered.
    There were several shirts but they were blousy and draped,
rather modest by modern standards. Her bras and panties were utilitarian, all
white cotton. Nothing lacy and pretty to show off her stunning body on her
honeymoon. That was a riddle. Dominic would have bet that Kinley used that sexy body to get everything she wanted, but her underwear told a
different story.
    There was a makeup bag with bright pink trim and black polka
dots. In fact, nothing was plain about anything Kinley owned—except her underwear.
    He opened the makeup case. Nothing was sacred now. He needed
to know everything about her, understand her better before he began his interrogation.
    Her makeup was drugstore. Cheap. That surprised him. The
luggage was wretchedly expensive, but she got by with crappy makeup and
inexpensive moisturizer.
    He was sure she would be wearing Chanel right before Jansen
killed her.
    Dominic took a long breath and repacked her bag, using the
little gold lock to run the zipper back around the edge.
    “This one is full of shoes.” Riley held up a pair that he
would expect a stripper to wear. They were fucking hot. “She has twelve pairs
of shoes for a five-day trip. Why does she need all those shoes?”
    To make a man crazy. To make her legs look a million miles
long. To wrap them around his back and press into his flesh. Her shoes were
everything her undies weren’t. They were hot sex on