he blew it, his life as an agent would be over. He wouldn’t even get a purple heart for getting mangled in the line of duty. Because units that didn’t exist didn’t get medals. Well, he’d think of something. Become a private investigator or go into his brother’s sporting goods business.
He pulled the towel from his waist and flung it across the room. No, damn it, they’d have to drag him kicking and screaming out of the department. He stopped, the kilt held up to his waist but not buttoned. Did he really want to keep working for them? Or was it just that he couldn’t stand the thought of being drummed out because he wasn’t up to standard anymore.
It was something he’d better figure out and soon.
He finished buttoning the kilt, slipped his feet into the sandals, and running fingers through his shower-wet hair, he crossed the hall to knock on Rusty’s door. While he was standing there, the outside door opened and Rusty ran inside.
“What’s up?” he asked, panting for breath. He unlocked the door to his room and pushed it open. “Come on in. I’m late as hell and I’ve got salad duty.”
“Where have you been?” asked Dillon, following him inside.
“Review meeting with the Great Dane. Brrr.” Rusty paused in the middle of pulling off his gym shorts. “Just routine.”
“Sure,” agreed Dillon. “Do you have time to answer a couple of questions?”
Rusty stopped completely. His eyebrows snapped together. “About what?”
Interesting reaction, thought Dillon, choosing his next words carefully. “It’s about your goddess from the last session.”
“Miranda?” Rusty dropped to his hands and knees and began searching under the bed. One sandal flew out, then another. “Nice lady. But one day she just leaves without a word.”
“Do you know why?”
Rusty stopped and looked up at Dillon. “No. Why are you asking?”
“Just something I overheard today. That she sort of…disappeared.”
“Yeah, well. You could call it that. Left during the night without a word of warning. At least not to me.” He stood up and slipped into his sandals. “I got my ass chewed out by the high mother honcho for mistreating her. Which I didn’t. Now I’m on probation. If it hadn’t been for Ms. Dane, I’d probably have been fired.” He shrugged and yanked his kilt out of the closet. “It wasn’t anything I did.”
“You and Demetri are both on probation?”
“Several of us are. They run a mucho tight ship here. No stepping out of line. Which is hard to do when you’re never really sure where the lines are. I mean, if they want to fuck, you can fuck them. But if they don’t, you don’t. Sometimes it’s hard to tell. Just play it safe and you should be okay.”
“Did this Miranda want you to…make love to her?”
“Never came up. She was a very cool lady. Very desirable, though she was a good fifty or so. I think she must have been here for a refresher course, ’cause she had the moves.” He headed for the door.
“And no one’s ever heard from her?”
Rusty stopped and turned on Dillon. “No. What’s it to you, man?”
“Just curious. I don’t want my goddess disappearing on me.”
“You sure as hell don’t. So be careful, because she looks about as skittish as they come.”
Yeah, thought Dillon as he followed Rusty outside. There probably wouldn’t be any requests for any serious lovemaking from that quarter. Too bad. Because he thought that Ariadne McAllister might have a few moves of her own.
“Just one more thing.”
“What are you, the FBI?”
Not on a cold day in hell, thought Dillon. “Nah, just curious. What did the honchos say about why she left?”
“Just that she’d gone. And they didn’t hear from her again. At least not while the session lasted, because me and several others kept asking. Everybody really liked her.”
“These wealthy types, they never think about shit like that. Once she was away, she probably forgot all about you.”
They’d reached the steps of the main building, and Rusty paused. “Not Miranda. She had bread, but she didn’t flaunt it or even seem to give too much of a shit about it. You coming in?”
Dillon shook his head. “No. I’m not scheduled for another fifteen minutes.”
“Then see ya later.” Rusty ran up the steps, leaving Dillon outside in the growing dusk.
Andy stood on the steps of the Pantheon, feeling rather pleased with herself. She was one of the few that had managed not to tell their life story or burst into tears during Jane’s class. Jane wasn’t the most patient group leader in the world and a few “um” s and “ah” s went a long way.
She saw Loubelle’s slave, Rusty, hurrying across the lawn. Good. He’d been Mac’s slave the last session. He might know something about her disappearance.
She put on her Ray-Bans and hurried down to intercept him. Then she saw who was with him. Mr. tall, dark, and wearing a kilt.
She couldn’t question Rusty with Dillon looking on. She wasn’t sure she trusted him. All that loitering around during lunch. She’d been flattered, but the more she thought about it, the more he seemed like one of those James Bond villains. All finesse on the outside, lethal monster on the inside.
She quickly ducked inside the closest copse of trees and watched them walk toward the Pantheon. They parted at the steps. Rusty went inside, but Dillon turned around and gazed out over the lawn. Andy slunk farther into the trees. Was he looking for someone?
He began walking toward the edge of the woods, so nonchalantly that he looked suspicious. She crept to the other side of the copse in time to see him saunter around to the back of the Pantheon. She suddenly had an urge to see what was back there.
Throwing caution to the wind, she stepped out of the shelter of the trees and sprinted across the lawn. Once she reached the path, she doubled back through the woods and got a good look at Dillon, staring fixedly at the second-floor windows.
What was he doing? Contemplating Windex and a squeegee? Or planning a little breaking and entering? There was more to her slave than a pretty face and a dynamite body. He was up to no good. But what the hell, she’d dated bigger crooks than a two-bit second-story man. And besides, he’d just given her a brilliant idea.
She slipped back to her cabin, showered, and changed into her white shirt and goddess robe. On a whim, she braided her hair and let it fall down her back. It felt wonderful after two days of bobby pin torture. She still looked prim. And with the new hairdo, everyone would think she was really getting something out of this goddess business.
She was only slightly disappointed when Dillon didn’t come to escort her to dinner. Probably too busy casing the joint or practicing carrying a water pitcher without dropping it. They should probably put him on napkin duty. You couldn’t hurt anybody with a napkin.
Evelyn, Loubelle, and Jeannie showed up at her door instead, and the four of them walked down to the dining room.
“Where’s Dillon tonight?” Jeannie asked Demetri as he filled her water glass.
“He’s setting up the orientation room for the film tonight.”
Good, thought Ariadne. At least he wouldn’t be carrying those heavy dinner trays. She shuddered. The possibilities were daunting.
Rusty set down a tray of salad plates. Demetri scowled at him. The man sure seemed to scowl a lot. Except at Jeannie. For her, he had wide, knowing smiles. He was forever brushing her arm when he served her. Lingered at the back of her chair. Whispered in her