Black Jack (Elite Ops 4)

Page 28

First, she had been suspected of killing her father because she had disappeared.
And second, according to the investigator—a rather reputable one—Lilly had been a high priced whore available only to certain clientele. Clientele requiring a well trained lover rather than a helpless one. And she evidently hadn’t cared if the clients were legitimate businessmen, or those considered highly illegal. Criminals, suspected terrorists, or international CEOs. She had been hired out to the best of them.
Lilly had been trained in Israel, Pakistan, China, South America, and Mexico. The training she had received, secretly, through MI5, before her supposed death, paled in comparison to the eighteen-month course she had taken to become part of Santos Bahre and Rhiannon McConnelly’s stable.
She and the three other girls she was known to work with were considered four of the most elite whores in the world. Wow, she should be impressed with herself, she thought sarcastically. She had gone from society princess to exclusive call girl. And she hadn’t stopped there. Hell, no, when she wasn’t playing “eye candy” for whoever paid for her services, then she was having fun causing trouble elsewhere. It was no damned wonder someone had tried to kill her.
She had been in more than one hot spot in the world with Travis Caine, who seemed to have required her services extensively. As a matter of fact, it seemed that outside of “business” they were actual lovers as well. Lovers who caused trouble wherever they went. In more than one instance, they had started fights that had nearly gotten them killed.
It sounded like she had had a hell of a lot of fun.
Except it just didn’t ring true.
There were pictures of her with Travis Caine as well as several other men. Men known for their rather subversive criminal activities. Weapon sales, drug deals, terrorist negotiations, the list went on and on. She and the three other girls were reputed to be not just highly experienced sexually, but also rather enthusiastic when it came to creating or cleaning up the messes their lovers were involved in.
The men whose identities had been included in the file seemed too familiar. Santos Bahre, Travis Caine, Micah Sloane, John Vincent, and Nikolai Steele were the most familiar. There was something about their pictures that pricked at her missing memories.
The pictures and the locations looked familiar. The pictures themselves appeared to have been taken from security footage from hotels and restaurants. Those would have been easy enough to come by. Once the investigator had a name, and a picture of her, he could have tracked many of her movements, as well as her associations.
The pictures of the men in the file had her eyes narrowing, though.
These men she and the other three women seemed to have the most association with.
John Vincent was a “broker.” Though he often brokered legitimate deals, he was also suspected to broker not so legitimate deals. Deals that often involved high-priced, top-secret stolen arms or information.
Nikolai Steele was a suspected assassin. He’d been questioned many times in regards to those activities, but there had never been enough proof to tie him to a kill. He also hired himself out occasionally as a bodyguard and was known to work often with Travis Caine and John Vincent.
Then, there was Travis. “The Facilitator,” he was called. He brought together products, services, or clients. He facilitated major business deals, matching buyers, sellers, and brokers.
He was also suspected to do the same with less savory clients.
Each man had, more than once, required Lilly’s or one of the other girls’ services.
Somehow she couldn’t see the very possessive, very dominant Travis Caine standing idly by while Lilly slept with his bodyguard.
Then, there were the women.
Nissa Farren, Raisa McTavish, and Shea Tamallen. She couldn’t rid herself of a feeling of urgency where they were concerned. There was something she should know about them. Something she was supposed to do, and she couldn’t pull the memory free.
That bothered her more than the fictional information that she had been nothing more than a troublemaking whore. She knew better. She knew who she had been before she had disappeared six years ago, and she would have never elected to take money for sex, especially considering that she had been a virgin at her supposed death.
So then what was the truth?
For a while, she had entertained the thought of demanding explanations from Travis, but something told her she didn’t want to do that. She felt a wariness about bringing her suspicions to anyone, as though she knew instinctively that at the moment, she couldn’t trust anyone.
Rising from the bed, Lilly pulled the file together, pushed it back into the large envelope, then moved to the small safe in the wardrobe closet across the room. Locking the report safely inside, she turned and moved to the bathroom.
The large mirror beside the three-head shower reflected her image back at her, a face she still wasn’t certain of, eyes that were the wrong color. Her chin was slightly more pointed than it had been, her eyes had less of a tilt than she remembered, her cheekbones were a little flatter and her nose more rounded.
Why? That question wouldn’t leave her mind. Why had she gone to such extremes to hide?
And who had she been hiding from?
Or had she, as others supposedly suspected, killed her father and attempted to fake her own death?
She had loved her father. She had adored him. It wasn’t possible that she had harmed him. Just as it wasn’t possible that she could have been some high priced call girl with an adrenaline addiction.
Then what the bloody hell was going on?