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Caught in the Act
Samantha Hunter
Slip into this sexy scarlet singer’s dress – perfect if you need to be the centre of attention! The outfit was ridiculously revealing. Still, food writer Gina Thomas needed a disguise for the party…just so she could sneak into divorce lawyer Mason Scott’s office and steal a few photos to save her sister. However, this costume seems to bring out the naughtier side of Gina. And Mason can’t keep his gorgeous eyes – or his hands – off her!But even as the new-and-much-sexier Gina submits to Mason’s exquisitely sensual attentions, practical Gina wonders how long before she’s caught red-handed…Dressed to Thrill – The best part of dressing up is taking it off!



“Are you going to join me or do you want to stay there and watch?” Gina asked.
“I thought you wanted dinner?” Mason’s voice was rough.
“I changed my mind. I want you. Now,” purred Gina, wondering at this unabashedly sexy persona she had unearthed.
It was the mask, the clothes … it was just make-believe.
“You’ll get no arguments from me,” he said, crossing the room purposefully. Her heart clenched a little when she thought she saw his hands shake ever so slightly as he started to undo the buttons on his shirt.
He was that affected by her?
She sat up, sliding her legs over the side of the bed. “Let me.” Though her own hands trembled, too, she quickly undid the buttons and pushed the shirt hastily over his shoulders, sitting back to enjoy what she’d only had a glimpse of the night before.
“You’re gorgeous,” she said against the warm skin of his stomach while she undid his slacks, only to discover he wore nothing underneath.
Oh, wow, she thought to herself.
How would she ever walk away from this perfect man … and how could she carry out her plan when she wanted him so desperately?
Dear Reader,
This was my first experience writing with three authors where we had to link our books on a common theme—the idea of how a wrong costume can help you find your real self. Luckily, I had great writers to work with, and it was incredible fun. Halloween is also one of my favorite times of year, and I knew as soon as we were talking costumes that I wanted to write a book based on that special day.
Caught in the Act was inspired by a line from Buffy. As such, I enjoyed playing with the idea that no one is who they appear to be on the surface. The theme of how make-believe can bring us closer to what’s real is a fantasy that Gina and Mason explore to the fullest while their lives are changing around them. I hope you enjoy their adventure.
When Halloween comes maybe don a mask or a costume that will bring you a little closer to your secret self. If you do, drop me a note and let me know through e-mail, or at my website or blog (you can also find me on Twitter!) I look forward to hearing from you.

About the Author
SAMANTHA HUNTER lives in Syracuse, New York, where she writes full-time for Blaze. When she’s not plotting her next story, Sam likes to work in her garden, quilt, cook, read and spend time with her husband and their dogs. Most days you can find Sam chatting on the Blaze boards at eHarlequin.com, or you can check out what’s new, enter contests, or drop her a note at her website, www.samanthahunter.com.
Caught in the Act
Samantha Hunter


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Karen, Tawny and Lisa—we did it!
To Natasha, Kathryn and Brenda,
for helping us do it.
Special thanks to Merri Crawford and Valerie Parv
for coming up with the great title for this book!
Special thanks also to Larissa Ione and Bryan, who
generously offered their expertise concerning Coast
Guard response to distress calls.

Prologue
JOSIE HAD TRIED EVERYTHING to get Tom the delivery guy off her mind, but nothing was working. She had to get his attention, to find out if he was really interested in her.
She searched frantically for something to put on before he showed up. There weren’t many costumes left in the shop due to heavy Halloween ordering, but her eyes settled on a pleated cheerleader skirt. She grabbed the blue pom-poms and buttoned the skirt as she heard the telltale rumble of the big delivery truck arriving.
Bouncing out to the front of the shop, she watched appreciatively as Tom approached the door, wheeling in several crates of new costumes.
Yes, he was hot, she thought, watching how he pushed the door open with his very perfect butt. He swung around with a smile, which widened, catching her staring.
“Hey, Josie. Nice outfit. I always wonder what new costume you’ll be wearing. Is it a job requirement?”
“No, I just like wearing the costumes sometimes.” Especially when you visit, she added silently. “Kinda dorky, huh?”
His eyes slid appreciatively over her legs and the short, pleated skirt. “Not from where I’m standing.”
“Oh,” was all she could say, pleased enough to give a little hop and wave her pom-poms at him. They laughed.
“Should I leave these boxes here, or take them around to the back?”
“You can leave them there. I’m all alone today, so I have to check them in here.”
“No boss around?”
“Just me. She’s on partial bed rest. So, I’m taking a lot of hours.”
“Busy season for that.”
“Yeah.”
She was treated to a few more minutes of watching him unload the crates and then pick up the ones by the counter. As he worked, she watched, feeling helpless as he turned to go. What now?
“Well, I guess I—“
“Oh! I completely forgot one package,” she interrupted urgently. “An order that just came in this morning—can you wait a few minutes until I pack it?”
He looked apprehensive for a split second—she knew he was on a tight schedule—but then he smiled widely. “Sure, why not?”
“Great,” she said, beaming at him. “I can get you a soda from the fridge in the office if you want one, you know, for while you wait,” she offered.
“That would be great. It’s freakin’ hot out there for October. Going to be a toasty All Hallows’ Eve.”
“Yeah, it’s hot all right,” she said under her breath, holding his gaze. “Uh, I’ll be right back.”
She returned with the beverage and the outgoing package—at least that part wasn’t a lie. Grabbing a packing envelope for the box from the other side of the counter, she caught Tom with his eyes glued to her backside this time.
“That soda okay?” she asked innocently.
“Fine,” he answered, not even looking apologetic for peeking. A shiver ran over her skin. The good kind. Heat flushed through her body, her fingers fumbling the job.
“Tom, I was wondering,” she said softly, giving up on the task and turning to face him.
“Yes, Josie?”
“I just, uh … I mean, I wondered,” she stuttered, trying to work up the nerve to ask him if he’d want to go out with her sometime. He leaned in even closer, his mouth very, very near to hers.
“What are you wondering?” he asked, and she could feel his breath against her lips. He smelled so good. Sun and sweat and fresh laundry … the uniform was crisp and clean, and her hand came up reflexively to rest on his chest.
He was going to kiss her. Her eyes fluttered shut, waiting for contact as if her life depended on it.
“Josie! What’s going on? Tom?” Carol’s voice had Josie flying backward, tripping over a box and nearly falling, but Tom pitched forward, as well, grabbing her forearms and saving her.
“Oh, uh, Carol, sorry … I, um,” Jodie stammered again. Tom pushed his hand through thick, dark hair, looking at Carol with an apologetic smile.
“Sorry, ma’am … you caught me asking Josie out on a date.”
Josie’s eyes flew open. Date? What date? When?
“Well, listen, can you save the flirting for your private time? This is a business. I can’t have customers walking in and seeing … that.”
Josie frowned. Carol was miserable because she was superpregnant and not getting any herself. Whatever happened to being on bed rest?
“Sorry, Carol,” Josie said vaguely, looking at Tom sweetly. “Call me?”
“Absolutely.”
Josie finished prepping the package and handed it to him with a sexy smile as he left. Call me, she mouthed and he winked.
Only when she went around to check the computer she realized her mistake. Oh, no, she’d done it again. Carol would kill her if she found out. It wasn’t Josie’s fault though, not completely. She’d grabbed the wrong costume from the shelf. Josie flew around the counter, hoping to catch Tom in time, but the truck was already pulling into traffic.
Then her heart sank as she remembered a bigger botch-up.
He didn’t have her phone number.

1
“I MUST BE OUT OF MY MIND,” Gina Thomas muttered to herself as she drove down Gulf Boulevard, shivering although it was a balmy seventy-degree Halloween night in St. Petersburg, Florida. She stopped at a light, watching a horde of children dressed in costumes and toting orange pumpkins full of candy cross in front of her, safely escorted by harried-looking adults. The light turned green and she didn’t notice at first, earning a loud blast of the horn from the car behind her.
“Geez, take it easy,” she said to the bright headlights glaring in the rearview mirror and hitting the gas, though she wasn’t in any rush, that was for sure.
Nerves—or the fact that the outfit she had on barely covered anything—were the source of her jitters in the first place. It was like driving naked, which was nothing compared to what she was about to do.
The deep red, glittery bodysuit plunged so far up her hips and down her middle that it was more like wearing two halves of a whole suit. She’d intended for nothing to show—she’d ordered a very unspectacular ghost costume that would have covered her completely and allowed her to fade in the background.
When she’d opened the box, she’d found this instead—a scrap of shiny red with a sexy bow-tie collar, a velvet black bowler hat and cane. A pair of “do me” heels that she borrowed from her sister completed the outfit and made it a pain to drive. It was her luck that instead of a ghost costume, she’d been sent a cabaret singer outfit—a “barely there” one, at that.
It had been too late to get anything different, and her sister Tracy nearly had a meltdown when Gina tried to back out of the plan they’d hatched.
“You have to do this,” Tracy’s pleading voice echoed in her mind as Gina made her way carefully through the bustling streets of St. John’s Pass toward the quiet and upscale neighborhoods of Pass-A-Grille beach. That’s where she was about to crash the annual Halloween party given by attorney Mason Scott for his clients and colleagues.
Gina would have preferred to do so in a less eyecatching costume, but that turned out to be impossible. All of the local shops were picked over, and so the skimpy costume was her only choice.
Tracy was in trouble. Again.
Gina reminded herself of why she was about to do this, to keep from turning back around, going back to her comfy St. Petersburg apartment where she could slide into her favorite pair of jeans and hand out candy. She had work to do, articles to write, and she’d been in the middle of contemplating a job change. Though she’d thought about it a million times before, there was an ad for an investigative reporter position at one of the local papers.
It was a long way from her position as a restaurant critic. Gina had always fantasized about being a real reporter, getting out in the world, uncovering exciting stories. She had almost talked herself into applying when Hurricane Tracy swept in, needing yet another favor.
Technically half sisters, they’d been raised together. The difference in their paternity didn’t affect their closeness, but it made all the difference in their personalities. Their parents were living the good life as retirees in Palm Springs, and Gina made efforts to see them as much as possible. Tracy showed up at holidays, and her parents never seemed to mind.
Tracy was magazine-cover beautiful, adventurous and impulsive—the exact opposite of Gina. Tracy also landed herself in hot water on a regular basis, and she came running to big sister for help whenever she did.
Gina had been covering for Tracy since she could remember. When they were younger, it was for things like Tracy sneaking in the house drunk as a skunk in the middle of the night. More recently, Gina had helped her sibling extricate herself from one bad relationship after another, including her marriage to local bad boy Rio Alvarez. Rio was in the process of divorcing her sister at this very moment.
Gina had begged Tracy not to marry Rio, but her sister never listened. In fact, it had led to one of their more painful arguments, when Tracy pointed out that Gina’s dull love life hardly qualified her to hand out advice on romance. They hadn’t spoken for a while after that, but they were sisters, and Gina couldn’t hold a grudge forever.
Besides, Tracy was right.
Her love life was not just dull, it was dead. Gina had had one serious boyfriend in college, and then he’d taken off to focus on his career. He’d asked her to go, but she couldn’t take that risk.
Casual dates and unimpressive lovers had sparsely dotted her romantic landscape ever since. When she’d taken her freelance job as a restaurant reviewer, working from home, meeting eligible or interesting men became even more difficult. Tracy, however, met enough for both of them, and apparently that hadn’t stopped after she’d gotten married—or so Rio said.
He claimed that he had the pictures to prove it—pictures that would show Tracy had been unfaithful. Tracy admitted she’d had a one-night stand, and was sorry for it, but Rio had been cheating for most of their marriage. Using Tracy’s single, recent indiscretion to cut her off completely hardly seemed fair. Tracy had made a mistake, obviously, and one she was going to pay dearly for.
Tracy had invested her entire savings, including college money she needed to finish her degree now, into Rio’s charter boat business. Additionally, Tracy had worked with Rio for five years on the business, but everything was in his name.
Tracy could fight him, but proof of her infidelity made it harder, and the case could drag out forever, still leaving her with nothing but more legal expenses. Without the pictures, Rio’s claims were weakened considerably—it was his word against hers. Tracy at least stood a chance then.
Gina did believe that Tracy had loved Rio, which made the current situation all the more difficult. Tracy had made bad decisions from time to time, her choice in men among them, but she didn’t deserve this.
So here Gina was, heading to the home of Rio’s divorce lawyer, Mason Scott. Their plan to steal the pictures seemed crazier as each mile passed, but it was the only option that would give Tracy any leverage.
Tracy hadn’t seen the problem with the costume at all, missing the point that if Gina was breaking into someone’s home office, walking around half-naked was probably not the best way to keep a low profile.
At least the odds were good that the pictures were at his home office, where Mason conducted most of his work these days, according to a newspaper article on the firm. Many local companies were saving on office space and overhead by allowing employees to work from home. If the photos were at the downtown location, which no doubt came with much better security, Gina wouldn’t stand a chance.
Cars were jammed into every spot along the narrow roads of Gulf Way. It was a lovely location, overlooking the water, with a private brick boardwalk. She made her way toward the house, which had elaborate decorations and lights strung all over the porch and yard. Squeezing into a parking spot, she took a deep breath, steadying her nerves.
This was it.
Due to the nice weather, several groups of guests congregated outside. That would make it easier to blend in and crash the party. All she had to do was glom on to a group and follow them through the door. Slipping the sparkling mask that covered the upper half of her face into place, she took a deep breath and tried to ignore her doubts. Peering in the slim rearview mirror, she hardly recognized herself.
She looked … exotic. So different from her normal, understated lifestyle. She’d never met Mason Scott, although he was a familiar name in local Tampa–St. Petersburg circles, and known as a ruthless divorce attorney whose clients were never disappointed with his results. She’d also seen him mentioned in the social pages, out on the town with some notable woman or another. She wondered what he’d do when he found his pictures missing?
Second thoughts assailed her as she walked up on the porch. She nearly turned around and left after a swarthy pirate wiggled his glued-on eyebrows at her, giving her a close once-over.
What if Mason did have security? What if she was caught?
“You’re late! Where have you been! I’ve been calling the agency for the last hour!” A woman hissed in her ear, grabbing Gina by the arm and nearly pulling her off her feet.
“I’m sorry?”
“You were supposed to be here by seven! It’s after eight!”
The woman was agitated and confused, and Gina opened her mouth to argue, but found herself pulled along again, behind a tall curtain covered in wispy netting and fake spiders that draped across the hallway.
“The band has been playing, so at least there’s been music, thankfully, but everyone’s expecting a singer. We always have a singer,” the woman continued, not letting Gina get a word in edgewise. “They have your music, and everything is set to go. You go through there to the stage, okay?”
“Wait—no, I’m not who you think I am,” Gina began. “I’m not the singer you hired.”
“What do you mean? Did they screw up at the agency? For their prices? If you can’t do this, you’ll have to take it up with Mr. Scott directly, and see what he wants to do.”
The frazzled older woman was dressed as a witch and more than looked the part in her agitated state. Her hat was crooked, her makeup smudged, and Gina felt bad for her. “I swear, organizing these events is going to be the death of me. Something always goes wrong. Let me go get Mr. Scott, and you can—“
“No!” Gina blurted, panicking. There was no way she could meet face-to-face with Mason. What if he recognized a family resemblance? Rio could have mentioned her, and Gina couldn’t take the chance.
Her options were limited. She could leave as soon as the woman’s back was turned, but then she’d let Tracy down.
Or she could … sing.
Her voice was okay. She’d been in a few school musicals, and she sung around the house, in the shower, on karaoke nights with friends and at holiday gatherings. After a few beers, generally.
Can I do this? she thought breathlessly.
Did she have a choice? The witch was staring holes in her.
“Uh, I meant I’m not the same singer they intended to send. She was, uh, sick. So I don’t know the songs she had lined up.”
“Oh …” The woman put a hand to her forehead. “Okay, then. There are some with Halloween themes, and a few more modern blues numbers. If you don’t know her playlist, you can tell the guys what you want, and they can probably accommodate.”
Gina nodded stiffly, nerves making her so tense she felt brittle. “Can you let them know I’m sort of unprepared?”
“Sure, I’ll be right back.” The woman rushed off through the curtain, ostensibly to talk to the musicians.
Gina cleared her throat and tied to calm down. She’d sing a few tunes and then disappear to find Mason’s office. Maybe being on stage would give her a chance to get the lay of the land and keep track of Mason. This could work, right?
Or it could be a total disaster. When the woman came back, informing her that everything was set, Gina tried to step forward, but couldn’t get her feet to move. She could hardly believe it when the woman actually planted her hands on Gina’s back, shuffling her toward the stage, giving her no choice in the matter.
MASON SCOTT HOPED THE HEAVY makeup and the fake fangs he’d been wearing for the last two hours—with at least four more hours to go—masked the intense boredom he was suffering. Why did he even throw these parties anymore?
Because it was expected. His law firm expected each partner to organize some social event once a year to keep in contact with their clients, old and new, and to allow for social interactions among the increasing number of people in the firm who were now telecommuting. This was the price he paid for working from home most of the time. Dozens of people, among whom it would be a challenge to find a handful he could call real friends, invaded for a few hours once a year.
His brother Ryan, a bartender at a local beach bar, walked up to him in a brightly colored Speedo. The rest of him was bare skin covered in colorful patterns drawn on with body paints.
“This is your costume? Or did you just come from work?” Mason teased.
“Hey. I bet you don’t want to hear another joke about blood-sucking lawyers, but I have a couple I’ve been saving,” Ryan threatened in good humor, raising his beer. They’d always enjoyed razzing each other about the contrast in their lifestyles, but it was all in fun. Mostly.
“Point taken.”
“I thought so. Nice party.”
“Same ol’ same ol'.”
“Where’s Cynthia?”
“She went back to her ex.”
“Tough break, man.”
Mason shrugged. “It was never anything serious.” Though the stupid vampire costume had been her idea, and now he was here stag, suffering one clichéd comment after another about fees sucking people dry, etc., etc.
Mason hadn’t handled Cynthia’s divorce, but he should’ve guessed she’d been using him to make her husband jealous—especially when their last date was at an art gallery showing that her husband managed.
Mason supposed he hadn’t cared enough to … care. It wasn’t as if he had any permanent plans with the woman. Permanent hadn’t ever been a part of any of his relationships thus far in his life.
“You here with anyone?” he asked Ryan.
Ryan, as always, had a sparkle in his eye. “Nope, but hoping I won’t go home alone.”
“You never do.”
“Man, you’ve got plenty to choose from here. How
about Little Miss Muffet over there? She’s got a nice set of, uh … tuffets.”
Mason couldn’t help but laugh. His younger brother was an unapologetic womanizer with absolutely no interest in commitment.
“I’m happy for Cynthia,” he said, meaning it.
“C’mon,” Ryan groaned. “Not that again. How can you be so idealistic about marriage and relationships? You’re a divorce lawyer for crying out loud.”
“Hey, Mom and Dad have been together, what? Forty years this year? Plenty of people do it. It’s a good thing when it works, Ryan.”
“Yeah, and you see how often it doesn’t. Hell, I can see how often it doesn’t. Who do you think keeps our bar going but most of the divorcées in the Tampa area?”
“True. But we can’t see how often it does, right? Those people never appear in my office or at your bar,” Mason replied with a nod.
“Always the logical one. Should know better than to argue with you, Mason,” Ryan said, chuckling.
“That’s what I’ve always said.”
“But seriously, I can’t imagine settling down with one woman when there are so many beautiful ones out there.”
“Someday. Someday, Ryan, maybe you’ll find the one that makes you forget the rest.”
Ryan grunted his doubts, leering at a sexy demon as she passed by on her way to the bar, sheathed in red spandex, her tail flicking wickedly behind her.
“Well, may that day be far, far away,” he said with a low whistle.
“I’m sure it is. Is that paint permanent?” Mason asked about his brother’s tribal markings.
“It’s edible, man. It can be licked off.”
Mason held up his hands and cut off his brother’s next comment. “Okay, that comes dangerously close to an image I don’t want in my head.”
“Sorry.” Ryan laughed, completely unabashed and not really sorry at all. Ryan’s hand clamped on his brother’s shoulder. “You need to loosen up, Mason. You’re wearing your suit and tie even when you’re not. Find a woman here and have some fun. That’s what I intend to do,” he said, making eye contact with Miss Muffet, who smiled coyly in their direction.
“Yeah, whatever,” Mason said, feeling unaccountably old at that moment. As he watched Ryan strut across the room, he thought maybe his younger brother was right. He should be enjoying his own party, and why do that alone? Sporting a fangy smile, he started moving around the crowd, looking for a woman whom he might like to bite.
It just so happened he didn’t have to look for long—in fact, she popped out in front of the entire room, appearing on the stage in a breathtaking glimmer of cherry-red. Large brown eyes took them all in for a moment, her curly dark hair framing a delicate, heart-shaped face, at least insofar as he could tell with her mask covering the top half of it.
Her lips were painted as red as her costume. He couldn’t look away.
Mason walked closer to the edge of the temporary stage he’d had set up for the party’s entertainment. She wasn’t small, maybe just a few inches shorter than his six-foot frame, though it was hard to tell since she was wearing heels that inspired lust low in his belly.
His eyes traveled up the pale length of shapely calf and thigh to the sensuous blossom of her hip, the inviting dip into a slim waist that expanded back out again at the level of ample breasts, barely covered by slim strips of sparkling red material. She filled out that bodysuit in a way that made him stop breathing when he took a closer look. He licked his lips, wanting more than a bite.
She seemed surprised, as if she hadn’t expected the crowd—was she new to this? Maybe all performers had some stage fright before a performance, similar to the nervous energy he always experienced when going to court.
Then those supple red lips revealed a perfect smile. She said “Hi, there” in a sultry voice that fantasies were made of. His dick sprang instantly hard and he was thankful for the dark outfit and the cape.
The audience crowded inward, several whistles welcoming her. Her slow walk to center stage was the stuff of all men’s dreams. With a look at the band, and then back at the crowd before her, she winked. It might as well have been him standing there alone as aware as he was of anyone else—there was only her.
She was magic.
Who was this amazing woman? She ran through a little nervous patter, as if she was still getting used to the idea of being up on stage. It was utterly charming, only adding to her sex appeal. The crowd loved her before she’d even sung a note.
Mason swallowed deeply as the room went black, anticipation rising. Another light clicked on and he breathed again as he saw she was still there. A spotlight focused only on her, with her back to the crowd, revealing a rear view that was just as luscious as the front. He flexed his hands, thinking about closing his palms over that absolutely perfect ass.
She tipped her cane to a saucy angle and started tapping her foot in time with the hushed drumbeat as music started. When she turned, letting the first lyric slide out on a throaty note that was part growl, part whisper, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven, though he’d gladly follow her to hell for a body and a voice like hers.
“Man, she’s smokin',” a voice said beside him, filled with sheer male appreciation and no small amount of lust. Mason just glared, drawing an inquisitive look from the guy he realized was one of the senior partners, Ron Deerfield, who was in his fifties, long married with grandchildren.
“Smokin'?”
“Yes, sir, a hottie. You know her, I take it?” Ron asked.
“No, but I’m going to,” Mason said resolutely.
Ron laughed and nodded in agreement. “If I were twenty years younger and Joan wouldn’t flay me alive, I’d give you a run for your money getting to her first.”
Mason looked at him in shock, and Ron laughed, slapping him on the back. “Hey, I’m fifty-five, not dead. And I have the kids around constantly. They keep me young. I wonder who she is. Star quality, that one.”
Mason lost track of the conversation as he realized the singer never introduced herself. Odd, especially if this is how she made her bread and butter. As she wrapped up a snazzy tune, some of the crowd sang along. She had them in the palm of her hand. People were dancing and shouting in raucous appreciation as she flipped her hat out into the crowd.
After what seemed like hours, she finished with her first set, taking bows and exiting the stage. Mason nearly plowed over a few people, including a few very lucrative clients, rushing to meet her behind the makeshift curtain. As he pushed the heavy material to the side and searched for a scarlet sparkle, there was nothing.
She was gone.

2
GINA COULDN’T ESCAPE fast enough, bolting once she got back behind the curtain, making a beeline for the bathroom she’d noticed earlier.
Lord, she was shaking like a leaf, adrenaline pounding through her system, and she thought she might be sick.
It had been one of the most incredible experiences of her life. Even if she did have a heart attack now that it was over, she’d die happy. The first song had been a bit pitchy, but then she’d found her rhythm and something had clicked. The audience was so responsive she couldn’t help but let loose and give it her all. It was as if she’d turned into a completely different woman on stage.
As she passed by the mirror in the bathroom, she caught sight of her sexy outfit and flushed cheeks, and looked into her own large, bright eyes. Was that her?
Wow.
She did look sexy, like she’d just had a heck of a roll in the hay, though to be honest, her performance was more satisfying and exciting than any sex she’d had in her life. Sad, but true.
It had to be the outfit, the disguise. She’d once heard Halloween referred to as “Come as you aren’t night,” and that was certainly true in her case. She’d never been as overtly sexy as she’d been on stage. She’d never have been able to carry it off without the mask and knowing she was completely anonymous.
It was also liberating not to be compared to Tracy for once. She’d never really understood how much she craved that, to be at center stage, growing up in her pretty, younger sister’s shadow. The thought sobered her and reminded her why she was here, and it wasn’t for the ego boost.
She was here to steal those photos from Mason Scott, who’d been front and center for her performance. Even in his costume, she’d recognized him from his picture on the Internet Web site for his firm. He was much more imposing in person. She’d tried to avoid eye contact, but the guy was like a magnet. His presence filled the room, a sexy vampire looking at her like she was dinner. The way his eyes latched on to her made her feel even more naked than she actually was.
Oddly, she’d liked it. Or her make-believe self did, anyway.
Mason had made her hotter with a look than any other man had done with more, and she had to remind herself he was the enemy. A sinfully gorgeous enemy who had a heavy swath of dark hair falling partly down over his brow and intense green eyes. Even his makeup and fangs couldn’t mask his strong jawline and passionate mouth, or his nicely shaped, classic chin.
Moving to the sink, she splashed a little cold water on her face and calmed down somewhat. Her cabaret singer self wondered what it would have been like to sing a song right to Mason, to tempt him the way he was tempting her. What would it be like to be with a man like that?
“This costume is doing things to my brain, apparently,” she whispered to herself, shaking off the fantasy and intending to blend in to the crowd.
Taking a deep breath, she oriented herself in the room and spotted the main hallway that Tracy said led to the back offices. Getting there was a whole different deal—someone stopped her every three feet to praise her performance. When the waiter offered her a drink, she took it, downing the champagne in one shot and grabbing a second for courage.
By the time she reached the hallway on the other side, she was giddy and overly warm, and she had collected three men’s phone numbers—not that she planned on using them, but still … Maybe she’d crash costume parties more often.
Peeking around to make sure she wasn’t seen slipping away, she made her way down the hall and spotted the large double doors that led to the office. Turning the knob, she found the doors were locked, as she expected. Of course her life would never be that easy.
However, Tracy had described a second entrance, off of another hallway—one that only Mason used. Maybe it wasn’t locked, since no one would be in that part of the house.
Exploring some of the pathways off the main hall, she began to get frustrated and worried—how many rooms did this place have? Finally, she saw a small door at the bottom of a set of narrow stairs, and tried that. Voila! It opened, and inside the office sprawled before her.
She might have walked onto the set of a TV legal drama, the set was so classic. Bookcases on every side, lots of leather and a huge desk dominating the center of the room. Several deep, comfortable chairs were placed by the bookshelves and there was a huge grandfather clock in one corner. She wondered if Mason was a traditional guy, or if this was just his professional persona. The way he’d watched her earlier certainly hadn’t been in the least bit staid.
“Okay … so, he must have files, and the pictures would probably be in the files,” she reasoned out loud, heading to several large, wooden file cabinets behind the desk.
“Well, this is a mess—he doesn’t file alphabetically! What the hell?” she cursed under her breath—there was definitely some kind of order to the files, but apparently it was one that only made sense to Mason. How was she supposed to search through all of these for Tracy’s file without knowing how his system worked?
“Dammit!” she cursed again, unsure she was going to be able to save the day for her little sister this time.
Her search lasted only a few minutes when she finally saw Rio’s initials on a folder and she said a quick, thankful prayer.
Yes. There were several photos. Gina yanked them from the file and gasped, shocked to look closer and see her sister standing on a dock in a hot clinch with a strange man. Other pictures revealed more intimate moments, and Gina would have died of embarrassment for her sister if she weren’t so angry. The pictures were incriminating and they exposed far more of Tracy than anyone should see.
But Tracy was involved in much more than a one-night stand. The dates in the lower corner of the photos indicated they had been taken in different locations over a number of weeks. Tracy wanted Gina to help her get rid of the evidence of her affair, and had clearly played on Gina’s sympathies.
What should she do? Tracy was putting Gina in the middle of her divorce power play, pushing her affair with this new man in Rio’s face. She just hadn’t considered the consequences.
Putting the photos back, Gina decided that Tracy was going to have to pay the piper this time and take responsibility for her actions. Gina shoved the folder into the drawer. This was wrong, and she wasn’t going to be part of it. They were adults now, and Gina had to draw the line somewhere.
Her relief was short-lived. It was then that heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, and she heard the dooming slide of a key into the lock of the main doors.
Pushing the drawer quietly shut, she nearly vaulted over the desk and threw herself into a large leather chair in front of it. There was no place to hide and she’d never make it out before whoever it was came in.
The main doors swung open, and Gina’s thoughts raced—what would a sexy cabaret singer do if she was caught someplace she wasn’t supposed to be? Instinctively, she leaned back into the chair, striking what she hoped was a sexy pose. When Mason walked in, she smiled.
“Count—what a nice surprise,” she said in a sultry voice that was husky largely because her throat was closing from fear.
Mason stopped short, staring at her, his eyes narrowed. “The doors were locked. How did you get in here?”
“A lady shouldn’t give away all of her secrets,” she hedged, but as his eyebrow lifted and she could see he wasn’t going to let the issue go, she said the only thing she could think of on the fly. “Your assistant let me in,” she said, hoping against hope the woman who’d dragged her up on stage was his assistant. It seemed a reasonable deduction. She just hoped he didn’t check out her story.
He nodded, and closed the doors behind him. “I’ll have to speak to her about that. These are private quarters.”
“Please don’t be mad at her. I needed someplace to get a bit of downtime after the performance, and she said you wouldn’t mind if I just hung out here for a little while. People wouldn’t leave me alone for a minute.”
“It’s no wonder. You were very good,” he murmured, then sighed. “I wish she’d told me. Then I would have known where to find you.”
“Find me?” Gina said with a slight squeak, sipping the champagne she’d left on the desk. Why had he been trying to find her?
“I looked for you after your show, but you seemed to disappear.”
“Oh,” she said, relieved. “I was in the ladies’ room.”
She swung one leg back and forth, as if to soundless music, but each time she did so her thighs parted ever so slightly. His eyes fixed on the expanse of thigh she was flashing.
“Do you bite?” she asked, sliding nimbly to her feet to lean against the desk.
He walked closer, his eyes moving over her as if he could see right through her. She swallowed deeply. He was much more imposing, and sexy, close up. Trim and muscular, his jaw was square, his nose patrician. A dashing lock of hair had escaped, brushing the mask that covered intense green eyes. Then Gina made the mistake of focusing on his mouth. Completely kissable, she thought, unable to look away.
“You never know. Vampires aren’t to be toyed with.”
“Maybe I like living dangerously,” she purred, almost biting her tongue at her own bravado.
Her? Live dangerously? Nothing was further from the truth. And yet here she was.
Was she actually doing this? Was she tempting this man, seducing her sister’s enemy? But he wasn’t the enemy, was he? He was just a lawyer, doing his job. A handsome, sexy, successful man who looked at her as if she was delicious.
Gina wanted to think she didn’t have a choice, but she was an adult and she knew there was always a choice. She could have walked right back out the door and saved her skin, hauling butt home to confront her sister. Or she could be the adventurous woman she was pretending to be, just for a while.
This was a moment that would never come again, she knew. A chance to be impulsive and wild. To be with a man who wouldn’t give her a second glance otherwise. There was no denying the chemistry sizzling between them. Why not give in to it?
He had kind eyes, she thought, looking into them fully. He was even more gorgeous when he smiled. She’d come here for her sister, but maybe she’d stay for herself. Tonight, in this bad girl costume, alone with this sexy vampire, she wasn’t Gina anymore. For a little while, she could be anyone—do anything—that she could imagine.
Before she lost her nerve, she grabbed the edge of his cape and tugged him down so that she could lean up and take those perfect lips in a kiss. He pulled away for a second to lose his fake fangs, and before she took another breath he was backing her against the desk, pressed up flush against her, kissing her like she was his last meal.
There was no denying his intent; his erection pressed against her belly and she let him know what she wanted, wrapping her legs around him and pressing close, a shiver of desire spreading over her.
He set her on the edge of the hard mahogany desk, bearing down, pressing even closer.
She could feel him everywhere, but he wasn’t nearly everywhere enough. Mason’s tongue stroking hers initiated a chain reaction of fantasies about everything else she’d like him to taste. She’d had her share of fantasies, but nothing in her own past even compared. Her responses finally set her free in a way she’d never experienced.
She was so wet, her body tightening in some places and softening in others, ready for him. She wondered if it was possible to orgasm just from a kiss … it was a giddy thought, and she suspected she was almost close enough. Grinding against him, she let her head fall back as ripples of pleasure ran over her, making her sigh.
“That was very good,” she said with a smile, meeting his eyes when he chuckled in response and shook his head. Had she done something wrong?
“What?” she asked, puzzled by the amusement in his gaze, though there was nothing censuring there. His hands came up, closing over her breasts, rubbing his thumbs over her to create taut peaks from her nipples until she warmed again.
“Honey, I don’t know who’s made you come before, but if that mere shiver is all that they gave you, you have a surprise in store,” he said gruffly. Removing her top, he drew the tip of her breast into his mouth, sucking until her hands were buried in his hair, noises coming from her throat that she’d never made before.
She didn’t have time to question his comment, but just wished he’d keep on doing what he was doing.
Mason ran his hands up her thighs to slide inside the strips of material that still covered her, easing both thumbs in between the plump lips of her sex. She held on to his shoulders, enjoying the play of muscles under her fingers as he massaged her intimately until she was sure her limbs had turned to jelly.
“You’re so hot. Like wet satin,” he said roughly, wasting no time as he stripped her of her outfit, peeling her naked like ripe fruit in his hands. “You’re a siren, a singer tempting me to my doom?”
She smiled. “Does this seem like your doom?”
“Hardly,” he countered. “But you are temptation made flesh.”
When he reached for the mask, she turned her head away.
“No—the mask stays on,” she said. “The hat, too,” she said, hoping it sounded like a naughty request instead of her trying to maintain some anonymity.
“Whatever my siren wants, she gets,” he said playfully.
“I want you as naked as I am,” Gina responded, her everyday persona gone by the wayside as she really did become his temptress. As long as her hat and mask stayed in place, she could be anyone, do anything.
Mason shucked his pants quickly. Gina sighed in appreciation at the sight of his large, hard shaft, fully erect.
He turned from her, reaching for something in his pants pocket. She was relieved to see him holding a small packet taken from his wallet, but shocked that she hadn’t even thought about it. Normally, she was careful.
When he was sheathed, he came back and slid his hands up and down her legs before lifting a knee over each shoulder as she planted her hands behind her on the surface of the desk.
“You should know I’ve never taken a woman on my desk like this before,” he said, nibbling the back of her knee. “But you inspire me.”
Gina swallowed, her eyes catching the reflection of their erotic pose in the mirror across from the desk. “I’m happy to hear that,” she whispered and met his eyes, hoping he could read in hers what she wanted.
He did. Leaning in, her ankle cradled carefully in his palm as he sank his teeth softly into her thigh, his tongue finding sensitive spots there that she never even knew she had. At the same time, his other hand found its way to her sex, gentle fingers prying apart slick folds and exploring until she was trembling from head to toe.
His butterfly touches, teasing bites and hot strokes were driving her mad. “You said there was more,” she taunted.
He looked up, his smiled wicked. “Oh, there is,” he promised, and increased the pressure of his strokes. She made some noise in response that barely resembled words.
“Or more like this?” he asked as he slid a finger inside of her, then two, and she lost track of everything. His hands were big, his fingers long, and she cried out as her body tightened around him, drawing him in, as if she couldn’t get enough.
He captured her lips in a kiss that completed the sensual invasion, his hands continuing their work. The tiny tremor she had accepted as her orgasm was mere memory, her body reaching and craving something much more powerful, but held tautly on the edge.
She moaned a protest when he withdrew his fingers, repositioning himself and sucking her tongue into his mouth as he pressed in, his cock teasing her entrance before pushing deeper until he was completely buried, the pressure and fullness of his entry making her gasp. He withdrew, paused, then pushed forward again, their angle allowing his erection to slide over her clit every time he thrust forward.
She wanted to taste him, to be closer. She pushed upward, bringing her legs down to hitch around his waist while sliding her arms around those strong shoulders. He helped her, his own hands moving down to her backside, holding her steady as he resumed a steady rhythm of thrusts that increased in tempo as heat built between them.
Time and space blurred, her body merging with his as they tried to get closer, deeper and faster, seeking leverage that would bring them to the brink. Mason moaned deeply into the curve of her neck, swelling inside of her.
“Come with me, hon,” he said into her ear, nibbling on her lobe in a way that made her cry out. Gina was rapt with the sensations of being so completely touched, inside and out, when one final glide over her sensitive skin threw her over. Her head fell back, her eyes opening in surprise then closing again as she let him carry her through wave after wave of sensation, listening to his masculine groans of pleasure as he found his own release.
Wow.
As the seconds passed and she came back to the moment, Mason pulled away. She sucked in a breath at the cool air that touched her hot skin, the sudden emptiness leaving her feeling alone and disoriented, exposed. Her world had been seriously rocked on its axis.
Was it always like this for other people? It had certainly never been this way for her, not with anyone else.
Mason took her hands and pulled her up against his massive chest, winding his arms around her as she snuggled into him. It was so sudden, so unexpected and intense, that she needed a place to gather her wits about her. Mason’s warm, hard chest was as good a spot as she could imagine.
His hands ran soothingly over her back and the hard reality of where she was came back to her. He touched her gently, tenderly, like a lover, not a stranger. A stranger she’d come to steal something from. She never could have predicted how good her decision not to take those pictures would be.
“I told you there was more,” he said, dropping a light kiss to her lips.
“You are a man of your word, Count,” she said, trying to keep the same light tone, though her emotions were anything but.
“I don’t even know your name.” He smiled, as if not being able to believe for himself what they’d done. It comforted her a bit, his gentle laugh.
“I think it’s better if we keep it that way,” she told him truthfully.
“That’s hardly fair. You know all about me.” He pulled away for a moment, and she reluctantly let go.
“I only know that you are a successful lawyer, a local celebrity of sorts. On the arm of a different, gorgeous woman every week.” She knew it was true, more or less. “Speaking of which, is there a date waiting for you somewhere out there?”
He frowned. “I wouldn’t be here with you if there was.”
“That’s good to know.”
“In fact, I was having an awful time until you showed up.”
“Really? It looks like such a fun party,” she said, though it was not her kind of thing at all. Gina much preferred a quiet dinner with friends.
“Yeah, I hate these things, but it’s part of the deal. Professional obligation. I hardly know half of those people out there,” he confessed, nuzzling her neck greedily. Her spine tingled, and though she’d just had—from what she could tell—the first really mind-blowing orgasm of her life, she wanted more. He could take her again, and that would be okay with her, she thought.
Just then, footsteps outside of the door, and voices with them, reminded her where they were. Had anyone been able to hear them? She laughed nervously when Mason’s chin hit the brim of her hat.
“Are you okay?” he asked, detecting something changed in her.
“Just realizing how late it is, and that it’s chilly. I really have to get going.”
“Why? You aren’t Cinderella, are you? Have to be home at midnight?”
He looked at her, his vampire makeup smudged off, probably all over her skin, his hair mussed from her hands, his sea-green eyes still warm.
“If you stay, we can go upstairs,” he offered with a smile, invitations and promises unspoken. His words were sincere, and didn’t make her feel uncomfortable. In truth, she’d love to spend the night with this incredible man. He was not what she expected. No ruthless arrogance or dominating attitude, he was more down-to-earth and still completely mind-blowing all at once.
“I’d really like you to stay,” he repeated.
The way he said it turned her nipples hard. Sorely tempted, because what she would miss by leaving would haunt her to her grave, she nonetheless shook her head, trying to sound casual.
“I can’t. I shouldn’t,” she responded, not sounding very convincing, even to her own ears.
His eyes darkened in a way that enthralled her. It was hard to look away, and she felt her resolve slipping. Maybe he was a bit of a vampire after all.
“You’re sure you won’t change your mind?” he asked in a husky tone. “I could make it worth your while.”
She was pretty sure all of her internal organs had just spontaneously combusted. Though she’d just had a great orgasm, she was achingly empty inside and craved only for him to fill her again. No man had ever said things like that to her, and it was so tempting … until she remembered why she was here. That would be somewhat difficult to explain if he found out who she really was.
“I’m sure you could, believe me. I’d love to stay, but I really can’t. I have to go. I have … other obligations.”
He frowned. “Such as?”
“Um, you know, family stuff.”
He froze. “You’re married? Children?” His eyes dropped to her left hand as he pulled on his pants and she struggled to get the bodysuit on over her damp skin.
“No! Would I do this with you if I were married?”
He looked at her directly and she saw a degree of weariness in his gaze. “People do this, and worse, with families.”
She thought of the pictures she’d found and admitted, sadly, that he was right. Being married was no guarantee of fidelity, though it should be.
Shame washed over her. Had she been any better? She might not be cheating on another lover, but she was certainly guilty of subterfuge. Stealing and lying, and having sex with him to throw him off the scent.
“I guess you’re right,” she said dispiritedly. She certainly had no room to be proud of herself, and she was still furious with Tracy.
“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, stepping close and peering at her with genuine concern in his eyes, which made her feel even worse.
“I’m fine, really.” She wanted to mean it, because he was a good guy, and if it weren’t for the circumstances that brought her here, this would be one of the best nights of her life. “Just tired.”
“Please, if you can’t stay now, come back. Spend an evening with me,” he pleaded, his voice lowering, his eyes holding hers. “No promises, no strings, I just want to get to know you. Do you want that?”
She started to say no, but then reconsidered. Gina wanted that so much she wasn’t sure what to say. If he knew who she really was, would he still ask?
But he didn’t know. Did she dare?
What if he found her out?
“I’d like that,” she heard herself say. “But only on one condition.”
“Name it,” he said, his eyes warm as they looked over her flushed features, landing hungrily on her mouth. She weighed her words carefully.
“We have one fantasy night. I can be anyone you want, but only for that one night,” she explained, hardly believing the words were coming from her. “But we can’t get to know each other. I want to be with you. To … sleep with you. But that’s all.”
Had she really just said that?
Never in her life had she propositioned a man for sheerly casual, anonymous sex, but this was perfect. She could let her wild side out, indulge herself and experience more of what she had tonight. She could take one night that was for her. She could be with a man she wanted, and who wanted her.
His jaw tightened. “I don’t know. As much as women think men dream of anonymous sex, why the mystery?”
She shrugged. “I have my reasons. If you want me, that’s the deal. We don’t share each other’s real lives. Just the fantasy.”
He watched her closely for several minutes, and then nodded. “Okay then. Just the fantasy. Tomorrow night? Meet me here at midnight?”
She smiled, happy beyond measure that he was willing to play along.
“Midnight is perfect,” she said, closing the door softly behind her and heading for her car, wondering if she’d really have the nerve to keep the date she promised.

3
MASON RAN LONGER AND HARDER along the gulf coastline than he normally did on his morning run, even though he’d hardly slept at all. The party had gone late, but the only person who interested him left early, after they’d had sex on his desk.
He’d tossed and turned, dozed off, awakened hard and frustrated. He had to wait another eighteen hours before he could work off the sexual energy his cabaret singer had ignited. Images of silky brown hair framing cocoa-colored eyes hazy with passion and cherry-red lips haunted him. She was everything he’d ever fantasized about … lush, sensual, uninhibited.
When he got her in his bed, he didn’t plan to let her up for air until he was done. He didn’t think she’d mind, remembering how hot she was under his hands and mouth. He could run from here to Georgia and not dim the need to have her.
Tonight, he promised to the morning sky.
Tonight he’d have her every way imaginable, and then they’d see what happened. Regardless of the silly deal they’d made, he fully intended to find out who his sexy vixen was, and to see more of her. One night was just the start.
Glancing at his watch, he sighed. Sixteen hours until their midnight date. What insanity had taken hold of him that he had said midnight instead of dinner? How was he supposed to sit at his desk, thinking about what they’d done the night before and focus on work?
He needed to put Amanda on the job of tracking his mystery singer down. It would be easy enough to find out who she was through the entertainment agency where they’d found her. If she was afraid that sleeping with him could get her in trouble with the agency or hurt her career, he’d make sure that wasn’t a problem.
If she wasn’t married, as she said she wasn’t, then he couldn’t imagine why she’d be worried, except for some kind of rules that dictated entertainers shouldn’t be having hot sex with their clients.
On their desks.
He could still taste her, the sweet strawberry tint of her lips, the honey of her kiss.
Sighing, he looked down and saw another boner tenting his sweatpants and started a hard run to lose it before he shocked someone on the beach.
His cell phone rang, distracting him. He slowed and dug into his pocket to retrieve it. Looking at the number, he saw Amanda’s ID.
“Morning, Amanda. Great party you put together last night.”
“Thanks. I love throwing your money around, but next year I hire a real party organizer.”
He laughed. “You always do a great job, and I appreciate it.”
“Nothing says appreciation like a big Christmas bonus,” she said drily.
Amanda had been with him for years, an executive assistant he’d known from law school who’d needed a new job when she’d had to move to the area to follow her husband’s work. He was thrilled to hire her and appreciated that she took on duties well past those of a normal legal secretary, like arranging his party.
“So true. Listen, do you know the name of the woman who sang last night?”
“Not offhand, no. She was a replacement for the singer they were supposed to send, so I’d have to find out.”
“Can you do that?”
“Sure. But first, I need you back here.”
Amanda sounded worried, and Mason frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“I was checking out the guy in those pictures you had Hal take, the ones of Tracy Alvarez and her lover?”
“Yeah. What came through? Do we know the guy?”
“Not really, but I’m not sure we want to.”
“What do you mean?”
“I couldn’t find anything, which is odd in itself. Everyone has some kind of records somewhere. So I asked my friend Janet, down in the federal building, and she connected him to the name Peter Dupree, and then
saw a Wanted file for him, for a murder in Barbados. She said that was all she could find, but suggested we turn the photos over to the FBI, pronto.”
Mason cursed, and looked out at the water. “Call Ron and the local FBI office.”
“Right on it.”
“I’ll be there soon. Thanks, Amanda.”
Mason double-timed it back to the house, quickly showering, dressing and grabbing what he needed. Jumping in his black convertible, Mason made the short drive to Tampa and pulled in to the office’s private lot about a half hour later. When he got upstairs, he was surprised to see Ron and Jace, two of the senior partners, and two other men with gray suits and neutral expressions whom he assumed were from the FBI offices down the street.
“Morning, Ron. Jace. I got here as quickly as I could.”
“Morning, Mason. This is Agent Kelly, FBI.”
“Thanks for coming,” Mason said.
“So what do you have for us, counselor?” the older agent, Kelly, asked.
Mason shook the agent’s hand and sat down. “I’m in the middle of a divorce case, Rio and Tracy Alvarez, and we were getting some surveillance shots of his wife and her lover—proof of adultery. Amanda, my assistant, was doing some routine background checks and became suspicious when she couldn’t find anything. So she asked a contact at the federal building for help, and they turned up the name Peter Dupree, and a Wanted notice for a possible murder in Barbados, so we called you guys. That’s about it,” Mason said, looking at the agent. “Any chance you can tell me more?”
Special Agent Kelly let out a sigh. “We’ve been working with several other agencies to take down a smuggling ring. It’s an ongoing task force that’s been working for years to stop the movement of guns, drugs, you name it, in and out of the country.”
“And this guy Peter Dupree is involved?” Ron asked.
“He might be one of their key men, but we’ve never had anything solid enough to grab him. No fingerprints, no witnesses. He’s a ghost, changing identity, appearance, location. We’ve never been able to track him down, though he’s left a trail of dead bodies behind him. The guy is a complete sociopath, but he’s good at what he does.”
“Well, I’m not sure if this actually is him, but it’s what came up,” Mason offered.
“You have the pictures?”
Mason nodded, having brought the entire file, and pushed it across the table.
Kelly looked over the photos, his interest intent. He took one photo out in particular and set it aside.
“The hair is a different color, and some of these shots aren’t exactly focusing on his face,” Kelly said.
“They were more to prove adultery on the wife’s part,” Mason reminded him.
“Right. But roughly, I’d say it looks like our guy. You said your client, his wife is having an affair with Dupree.”
“Yes, that’s Tracy.”
Kelly scanned the notes. “They run a charter business? Do you think it’s possible they are working with Dupree? Using the charter business as a cover?”
Mason shook his head. “Nothing in Rio’s recent background or his business records, which I have reviewed very closely, would suggest that. Rio seemed as surprised by the photos as anyone. I didn’t have any sense that he recognized Dupree.”
“Maybe it’s just the wife then, but either way, you’ve stumbled into a dangerous situation. You said your assistant has been doing background searches?”
Mason nodded, his stomach knotting.
“Tell her to stop. Dupree’s connected, even has contacts inside law enforcement, which is how we think he manages to evade our guys a lot of the time. But if he knows you’re checking him out, it puts you in danger.”
“Why is he here in Tampa?”
“He might be lying low, waiting for what happened down in Barbados to blow over, but these pictures give us an edge,” Kelly said, pointing to the corner of one of the photos. “This child. Sitting on the edge of the boat? He could be Dupree’s son. Dupree is suspected of killing the mother and three of her relatives who tried to stop him from taking the kid. If this is the kid, then it’s kidnapping.”
“That poor boy,” Mason said, sickened. “So you’re trying to get Dupree like they did with Al Capone. They couldn’t get him on his crimes, but he was arrested for tax evasion. You want to get this guy on kidnapping instead of smuggling?”
Kelly nodded. “Yeah. We weren’t even sure the stories were true. There was no evidence of a child being taken until now. The kid could be our only witness. He can identify Dupree, and might be able to tell us if he killed those people. These pictures give us a big head start,” Kelly said with relish.
Mason settled back in his chair, shaking his head at the enormity of it. This meant that Tracy Alvarez, at least, was involved with a killer. Mason had met Tracy once and found her a bit superficial, but somehow couldn’t see her being part of murder and kidnapping. Did she even know who Dupree was?
“Why don’t you pull Tracy in and ask her what she knows? She would seem to be the most direct route to the kid.”
“We can’t trust Tracy Alvarez. She could tip Dupree off and he’d be gone.”
“She and Rio could be in danger. What if Dupree finds out about the pictures? Seems like someone should tell them,” Mason said.
“If they’re not involved with Dupree, the less they know, the better. Are you and your assistant the only ones who have seen these pictures?”
“Rio saw them, too.”
“But he has no contact with Dupree or his ex?”
“No, not that I know of, but I don’t follow him around all day.”
“Tell your client there was a fire, something, and that the pictures were destroyed. Lay low for a bit. Call me immediately if there is any trouble. Is this your complete file?” Kelly asked, counting through the photos. “Negatives?”
“No negatives. The P.I. uses digital. He erases the files after he turns over hard copies.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“Yes.”
“Okay then. If you can give us his name, we’ll need to talk to him, too. We appreciate your help.”
That was it. The agents started to pack up, effectively ending the meeting. Mason was a bit shell-shocked, still trying to figure out what he’d do with Rio. Their case rested on those pictures proving Tracy had been unfaithful.
“Thank you for your cooperation. Have a good day, counselors,” Kelly said, and was out the door.
Mason looked through the window. “This isn’t normal, Ron. Rio will be pissed, and he’ll probably drop us to find another lawyer. What am I supposed to tell him?”
Ron blew out a breath, nodding. “Better than ending up dead. You did the right thing getting in here and turning it over to the feds, Mason. I say, go home, lay low until this thing blows over.”
“I’ll do what I can. I have depositions after lunch and a court appearance at three. I need to get going,” he said, standing.
“Watch your back, Mason. Seems like you stumbled across a real psycho,” Jace said.
“Yeah, well, it sounds like the feds have it under control. I hope they get him soon. Feel sorry for that little kid.”

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