Operation Burlesque BBW Romance (7 page)

Rough hands pulled me back, keeping me from the door. I struggled and kicked, but couldn’t overcome their strength.

“Easy, Miss Ruby. We don’t want to hurt you,” said a soft voice. A voice that gave me pause. I watched with rising panic as the third man moved to stand in front of me. I knew that voice, but didn’t believe my ears. He shoved his hood back enough to reveal his face and my stomach sank.

“Clark.” Again. He was persistent, I had to give him that.

His lips split into a broad smile. “Looks like I might get that kiss after all.”

He leaned in and planted the wettest, grossest kiss I’ve ever shared with a man. Frog tongues probably had less slime. I tried to bite him, but he was nimble. In seconds, it was over and he stepped back with a triumphant smirk.

“Mmm, as sweet as I thought you’d be.” He leered at me. “I might have to kiss you again. You’re that good.”

“Fuck you, you sick bastard.” I kicked at him, but he moved, easily evading my foot. Since he was out of reach, I tried to bite the cops holding me back. While I could reach their biceps, I couldn’t make much of a dent through their clothing.

“Jeez, she’s a pistol,” said the ogling cop as he peeled my face off his arm.

“Wait until I shove your gun up your ass,” I snarled.  They both just looked at me, momentarily stunned by the venom in my voice. “What? You think because you’re cops, I’ll let you get away with assault? Are you assholes even really cops?” My spidey sense was going nuts. Something was really wrong with these guys and that meant I was in serious trouble. I’d heard the stories of serial killers dressing up like officers to prey on women. With Clark involved, I didn’t think things would end well for me.

I squirmed and tried to kick them again, but they had the advantage. All I hit was air and proved that men really do have more upper body strength than women. Their hands tightened on me with bruising strength, forcing me to hold still.

“Let’s get her tied up,” Detective Bowler said. “Come on, Clark, make it snappy.”

Clark put a hood over my head and someone zip-tied my hands behind my back.

“What’s going on? Why are you doing this to me?” I asked. My mouth tasted of Clark’s sweat and stale cigarettes. His flavor was as vile as his personality. I wanted to spit and then gargle with Listerine for a week straight. The hood didn’t help, it smelled like unwashed jockstrap with an overlay of gasoline.

“Just cooperate. It’ll be better for you,” said Bowler.

They started to lead me somewhere, probably their car. By some miracle I twisted free, desperation lending me strength. I ran, but blind with my hands tied behind my back, I was easy to catch. Someone tackled me down to the pavement, taking the opportunity to grope my breasts when I rolled onto my back. Probably the oogler cop or Clark. I slammed my knee up and scored a glancing blow to my groper’s crotch. Not a direct hit, but close enough they stopped feeling me up. Dirty fucking cops.

They lifted me to my feet, and, when I resisted, a fist caught me on the cheek. I screamed then, but that only earned me another punch.

“Where’s the god damn sedative?” barked the harsh voice of the Detective.

“Here,” said Clark.

Someone hiked up my skirt and jabbed a needle into my thigh. The drug hit me like a drinking binge chased by an overdose of sleeping pills. My bones turned to jelly and the men had to carry me as I quickly lost the ability to walk.

I tried to talk, tried to reason with them, but I sounded as drunk as I felt. My mouth couldn’t do more than slur vowels.

They stuffed me in the trunk of their car and took off at a fast clip, slamming me from one side of the trunk to the other as they went. I wanted to be smart and kick out the tail light, but I couldn’t coordinate my body let alone keep my eyes open. Darkness claimed me as I hurtled toward an unknown fate.

Lilli had called Blake a handful, but, for once, her powers of exaggeration hadn’t even come close. He was beyond a handful. He was dangerous and he just might get me killed.

Chapter Seven

A roaring sound filled my dreams. There was pain too. Throbbing aches that told me my dreams weren’t real.

That made me sad because Blake had come to me in the ether of unconsciousness. I desperately wanted him to be real. If he was real, it meant I was safe. Deep down, though, I knew safety had escaped, running from me and leaving me in the dust.

“I can’t stay, Ruby.” Blake wore his tuxedo, the collar unbuttoned and revealing the tempting hollow of his throat. His dark eyes smoldered, setting me on fire. He held my face between his hands and studied me as if memorizing my face.

My heart broke. “Why not?”

“It’s a risk to be with you. I shouldn’t even be here, but I can’t resist.” His lips claimed mine. I groaned as he fisted a hand in my hair and pulled my head back to deepen our kiss.

When we took a breath, I said, “But we have right now.” I pressed myself into his sleek body, wanting so much more.

He smiled against my lips. “Yes, but only now.”

One last kiss and he was gone.

It hurt just as much as the first time he’d disappeared.

The scene shifted, depositing me in a seat at the Cirque D’Amour. Lilli stood on-stage, glitter twinkling along her skin. She smiled at me with oxblood lips that matched the burlesque costume she wore. The dark red sheath dress was from her heartbreaker routine where she lit her pasties on fire. A man in the shadows flicked a lighter until a single flame sparked in the dark.

Lilli gestured toward me with an elegant sweep of her hand. “The spotlight is on you, Ruby. There’s no place to hide, so put on a good show.”

She blew me a kiss and began to burn.

An earthquake tore me from sleep. I bounced and lurched with the ground. I fought to open my eyes, which were in no hurry to return to reality. They voted I sink back into sleep, but the violent movement of the world around me would not be denied. I had to wake up.

When I did, I decided my eyes had been right; I should’ve buried myself in my dreams. They were a safer place to be. It wasn’t an earthquake that moved me, but a jet landing on a runway. A private jet with snow white leather seats and blue carpet. I sat in one of the chairs, my neck throbbing from the lack of support while I slept.

Outside the window, a landing strip raced by in a gray blur as the plane’s wheels bumped over the runway. From the dim light, I surmised it was either dawn or dusk. I didn’t know where I was, but I had an idea: Morocco.

“Ah, you’re awake,” said a male voice with a Boston accent.

I startled and turned my head to see a short, bald man sitting across from me. He had the baby blue eyes of Sinatra, but the rest of him didn’t match. His figure had the bloat of a man who drank too much and even his fancy pinkie ring couldn’t class up his sausage fingers. The man looked at me, his gaze placid as a blue sky. He didn’t feel guilty about a thing. I found the thought chilling.

Footsteps sounded behind me and another man came into view. One I knew, but didn’t want to see. Clark. Again.
Would I ever get rid of this guy?

“Hello, Ruby.” Clark smiled down at me. He’d showered at some point in the recent past and the smell of aftershave wafted into my nose. His clothes had changed, too. Instead of circus road crew rags, he wore a nice pair of khaki slacks and a green polo shirt. He looked halfway handsome with his hazel eyes and neatly trimmed hair. He was nothing like the guy who’d harassed and stalked me all over the Cirque D’Amour. Weird. Maybe Blake hadn’t been the only one doing magic tricks.

I looked at both men. “What the hell is going on? Who are you?” I tried to move my arms as I spoke, but they’d been tied to the arm rests. When I flexed my feet, I discovered I’d been bound at the ankles as well. Well, wasn’t that just peachy keen? I tested my bonds but found no slack that would allow me to escape. I was stuck.

“Allow me to introduce you.” Clark sat in the seat next to the bald guy. “This is Frankie.”

“And?” I prompted. I remembered everything up until I’d passed out: The police, who weren’t police, looking for Blake. They’d kidnapped me, pumped me full of drugs and put me on plane. The name Frankie was not
nearly
enough information to explain any of that.

Ignoring my question, Frankie pointed at me with his chin. “Cut her loose, Clark.”

“She’s a fighter, boss.”

“Boss? You
work
for Frankie?” I frowned at Clark. Had the crew gig been a front of some kind? What was going on?

He smirked at me. “The crew was just a side job, Blake was always my paycheck.” Holding up a finger, he wagged it at me and said, “I tried to warn you away from him that night. You should’ve listened to me.”

I rolled my eyes, but didn’t say anything. Clark had revised history to the point where it was unrecognizable. He’d been trying to get into my pants, not save me from anything.

“Clark, I’m waiting. Cut the rope already.” Frankie sounded bored.

“You sure?” Clark looked askance at Frankie. “She fought us like a rabid cat when we went to pick her up.”

Frankie gave me a pointed look. “She’s a lady. She’ll act like one, right, Ruby?”

“Yeah, sure, Frankie.” I smiled sweetly at him and pictured ramming my heel into his crotch. If Frankie was smart, he wouldn’t give me a clear shot.

Clark pulled out a knife and sawed through the rope holding me down. Once free, I massaged my wrists.

“Thanks for nothing,” I said, glaring at him. At least he hadn’t copped a feel this time.

Apparently, Clark didn’t care for my tone. He raised his hand as if to hit me, a thunderous look on his face, but Frankie called him off.

“Sit down, Clark. We got business to conduct before we reach our gate.”

Clark slumped into his seat with a sullen frown.

I stretched my arms overhead, releasing all the knots in my back from being trussed up in one position so long. “So is anyone going to tell me what is going on? Where am I?”

“Right where Blake wants you. That plane ticket he sent was a lucky break for us.” Frankie watched me stretch with open interest, his gaze lingering on my chest as I arched my back. “Morocco. Casablanca to be precise.”

I abruptly crossed my arms. “You’re kidding me, right?” Of course, I had suspected as much, but hearing it out loud hit me hard and cold as ice. And what did this guy mean by lucky break? What the hell was going on?

“No. I don’t joke. It confuses things and I don’t want any misunderstandings.” He cleared his throat. “I brought you here because I need your help.”

I glared at him. “You always ask for help by drugging and kidnapping people?”

“If that’s what it takes. In my business, we aren’t shy about incentives.” Frankie’s eyes met mine, remorseless as a python that had swallowed a baby.

Business?
What business? Ah crap, was this guy like a mobster or something? My stomach sank at the thought. I looked at Frankie again. The gold bling, the accent, the thick chest hair that even his shirt couldn’t contain. He looked Italian and he acted like a mob boss.

Well, shit. Did I have all the luck or what?

Frankie kept talking, “Listen, your boyfriend, Blake is a problem and he needs an incentive, which is where you come in.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I wasn’t sure how I even felt about him just then, either. Had he known they were coming and run anyway? I hoped not.

Frankie shrugged. “Semantics. The point is, the guy has the hots for you and I need you to make sure he shows up somewhere.”

“You think he’ll listen to me?” I gave him a skeptical look.

“Sweetheart, there are legions of men who would follow anywhere your tits led them.”  He outlined an hourglass with his hands. “God spared no curve when he made you.” He leered at me then and Clark joined him.

Ew.
I hugged myself tighter and refused to meet their eyes. “I barely know the guy.”

“That’s even better.” Frankie smiled, pleased with himself. “It means he’ll still be interested. You’re forgetting
he
asked you to come to Morocco. He wants you and he’ll go where you say. Trust me, I’m a guy. I know how these things work.”

“Uh-huh,” I said sarcastically. “Why don’t you just ask him yourself?”

“That’s the problem. You see, I already did.” Frankie shook his head. “He said no and he’s been too slick for me to arrange a face-to-face meeting. That’s where you come in.” He pulled a business card out of his shirt pocket and handed it to me. “Here’s the address. He needs to be there at midnight four days from now. You tell him to go, he’ll go.”

I took the card and looked at it. The address was French. Rue Chateau something. “What if he turns me down?”

“You’ll make sure he won’t.” His eyes went cold as a shark’s. “By any means necessary. Remember, he wants you. Use that to our advantage.”

I swallowed. “This is crazy. You’re crazy.” I felt like Alice, but instead of Wonderland, I’d crossed into Mobster hell.

Frankie ignored my outburst. “Here’s a phone. We’ll be in touch.”

At Frankie’s nod, Clark handed me a slim iphone. I looked at it, idly noticing it was the latest model. No expense had been spared to coerce me. “Why do you need Blake to be there?”