Page 93 of Dark Duet: Platinum Edition

Matthew nodded, his eyes closed. Already, it was difficult not to come right there in his jeans, like a school kid having his dick touched by the head cheerleader.

“You won’t tell?” he pleaded softly.

Janice gripped the hair at the nape of his neck with enough force to make his eyes sting. “No, Matthew. I won’t tell anyone. Now get the fuck off this barstool and let’s get out of here.”

Last night it had been glorious and liberating. It had been a light to the darkness in his soul, but today…today it was all he could do not to call in sick and lie in bed and hide.

Matthew finally rolled over and let the pain have him. He closed his eyes and moved his body along the sheets, testing all of his muscles. His shoulders hurt quite a bit and his neck was stiff, but mostly it was his ass. His ass felt bruised all the way to the bone, and he knew even after his hot shower the pain would remain. He’d think about Sloan all day, all night, and every time he sat down until the pain went away. And suddenly, it was his pride that hurt the most.

He slowly opened his eyes. He was supposed to go back to the hospital first thing this morning and get the rest of Olivia’s statement. He wondered if Sloan would be there and his stomach hurt. No. He couldn’t see Sloan. Ever. He couldn’t stand the idea of facing her and encountering her smug face. And really, who wouldn’t be smug?

Matthew was a notorious jerk. He knew plenty of people who would pay to hear about him being brought so low. Well, he wouldn’t give Sloan the satisfaction of getting to him again. All he had to do was avoid her. It was the coward’s way out, but Matthew figured he could be a coward every now and again. He wouldn’t let it affect his case.

With a loud sigh of resignation, Matthew rolled out of bed on unsteady legs and fumbled toward the table for balance and his phone. There was a note:

Dear Matthew,

Thank you. You were better than I dreamed. Difficult to leave you, but I know you need your space. I’ll be at the hospital in the morning. Stop by if you want – otherwise, I’ll be sure to give you time in the afternoon to do your job. Of course, I hope I’ll see you.

Agreement stands, my lips are sealed.

Jani

“Fuck,” Matthew sighed. Even in a note, he could sense how obviously smug she was about last night. If he didn’t show up, then he was a coward. If he did, then he was trying to prove something. It was a catch-22. Angrily, he reached for his phone and fired off a text:

Reed: Intel @ office. Busy til lunch. Pls rcrd interview.

He figured his text was vague and yet succinct enough. He hoped she would get the hint and not discuss last night. It was better if they stuck to the work. The case would be over soon and both of them would be reassigned. With any luck, he’d have no reason to see her again. All he had to do was make it through the next few days. Less, if he could get Livvie to talk. It was all the motivation he needed.

Matthew took a long, hot shower. It helped loosen his aching muscles. The damage was fairly miniscule – only a few bruises and welts on his ass. It was a relief to know he had no marks on him that would be visible when he was dressed.

He stopped for coffee on the way to work. He didn’t want to stand around the pot at the office. The officers sometimes tried to engage him in conversation, and Matthew just wasn’t in the mood. He walked in quietly, nodding in greeting to the desk sergeant and taking the elevator in silence to the chagrin of the building janitor who rode with him.

“This is Agent Reed.” Matthew set his briefcase next to his desk and his coffee next to his keyboard before he turned to acknowledge the officer’s presence.

“Yes?”

“Message came for you late last night. The desk sergeant brought it up this morning.” The young man handed the message to Matthew and walked away.

“Thanks,” Matthew muttered toward the man’s back and looked down at the message. The agent from the FIA had called. Matthew looked at his watch and hoped their offices were still open. He was cutting it close.

He rolled out his chair and picked up his phone to dial the long number. “Hello? Staff Sergeant Patel, please.” He waited for a few minutes while they tracked the man down, relieved he’d called in time.

“Staff Sergeant Patel speaking.”

“Matthew Reed, FBI,” he said quickly. “You left a message for me. What did you find out?”

There was a deep sigh on the other end of the phone. “We looked into private planes with scheduled arrivals in the next three days.” He hesitated. “You were right. There seems to be a lot more activity than usual. No information yet on Demitri Balk or Vladek Rostrovich, but we don’t have all the passenger manifests yet.”

“Can you send me a list of all the information you have available? I’d like to look through it if you don’t mind.”

“We do mind, Agent Reed. If there is something going on, then it falls within our purview and our office can handle it. Is there any other information you would like to share with us?”

Matthew ground his teeth hard enough to make his head hurt. He wasn’t in the mood for the bureaucratic games. “I’m willing to share information so long as we are coordinating. For that to be the case, information has to flow both ways. Time is limited, Staff Sergeant. Neither of us has time for a pissing contest.”

“You Americans and your colorful slang,” Patel said. “No one is ‘pissing’ on anything, Agent Reed, but I’m sure you can see the political implications of this. The world’s eyes are on Pakistan right now, and we need to know the situation can be handled discreetly and without embarrassing either country.”

“If you won’t share information, I’ll have to contact my superiors and have them reach out to your government. It could take days, and by then the slave auction could be over,” Matthew said.