Under Pressure

She kept the other employees and offered them at a reduced rate. They stayed busy, the revenue continued to pour in and already Leese Phelps was in high demand. Soon, with any luck, she’d find a few more new hires and round out the employee cache with something for everyone.

Thinking ahead, always, she strode toward her personal receptionist, Enoch, who jumped to his feet to present her with her day’s agenda.

“Guests inside, Sahara. Leese and Justice, and they brought with them a young lady—”

She drew up short. “Not another fighter?”

He smiled. “Sorry, no. Or at least I assume she’s not.” He leaned in closer. “She’s rather small.”

Enoch knew her well enough to understand she preferred first names whenever possible, and because they got along so well, he was often very familiar. On any given day, Enoch was her right hand, her calendar and her friend. “Now I’m doubly curious.”

“Would you like to go over your schedule first, or after you meet with them?”

“I have time?”

“At least an hour.”

“Wonderful. Let’s do the schedule after.” Sahara smiled at him. “Could you bring us coffee and whatever...and see that I’m not disturbed while they’re here?”

“I’ll make a fresh pot.” Off he went, always so quick at his tasks.

She did love Enoch’s efficiency and understanding of her needs. If only she could find a man who—no.

The last thing she needed was a man in her life.

No time, not for that sort of nonsense, and not while shifting the agency into the powerhouse she wanted it to be.

Pasting on a smile, she opened the door and surged into her office. Leese stood looking out a window, hands in his back pockets. Justice took up most of the space on a small settee, his bulky arms stretched out along the back.

And in the chair facing her desk...

Sahara hurried in. “Hello.” She circled the chair to face the woman, then stepped back in surprise. “You’re Catalina Nicholson.”

“Yes.” With far too much caution, Catalina asked, “And you are?”

“Sahara Silver. I own the agency.” Brows up, she turned to Leese. “You brought her here...why?”

Folding his arms over his broad chest, Leese turned his compelling stare on Catalina. “I’m hoping she’ll tell us.” He watched her a moment, then said softly, “Cat? What’s it to be?”

Put on the spot, the girl glared back at Leese, then seemed to deflate. Her gaze shifted to Sahara, and damned if Sahara didn’t feel a thrill go up her spine. She just knew this was going to be something unexpected and stupendous.

Anxious to hear it, she said, “Go on.”

After a few more seconds of hesitation, Catalina asked, “Have you heard of Désir Island?”

* * *

JUDGING BY SAHARA’S startled reaction, Cat assumed she had indeed heard of the island and was aware of its awful reputation.

The beautiful brunette inhaled deeply, then rushed around to get comfortable in her chair. Forearms on her massive desk, expression rapt, she leaned forward. Both Leese and Justice were lost and, in truth, Cat was glad they didn’t know about the island.

Enthralled, titillated without having yet heard the details, Sahara urged, “Go on.”

Before Cat could, a man stepped in with a tray of coffee, fresh fruit, pastries and muffins.

Sahara didn’t miss a beat. “Excellent. I definitely need more caffeine. Pour us each a cup, will you, Enoch?”

“My pleasure.” Cups and saucers rattled as the assistant filled each cup. “Cream and sugar?”

“We can doctor them ourselves, but thank you.” Sahara reached for a gooey pastry. “Fresh from the bakery?”

“Of course.”

“You’re the perfect man, Enoch. Thank you.”

Smiling, Enoch departed and Sahara told Cat, “Please, help yourself.”

She hesitated, but what the heck. If everyone else could be blasé, she’d give it a try too. “All right, thank you.” After swallowing one big bite of a blueberry muffin, she asked, “You’re aware of what happens on the island?”

“Yes, of course. Decadence. Perversion.” Sahara waved a pastry. “Anything and everything sexual that money can buy.”

Leese came around closer to Cat, which she appreciated, and propped a hip on the desk. After a sip of coffee, he asked, “Where is this place?”

“It’s near the Virgin Islands. Uninhabited until twenty or so years ago. Since then it’s been built up and used for...” Cat swallowed, unable to say it.

Sahara didn’t have the same problem. “It’s a privately owned playground for the global ultrarich. Anything goes if you have enough money or influence, preferably both. Many politicians love it for the secrecy. It provides every luxury you can imagine with a small, posh hotel, a helipad for invited guests only and plenty of space for orgies.”

“Orgies?” Leese asked, one brow climbing high.

Sahara nodded around another bite. “Lots of nasty business going on there. Like I said, anything can be bought if you offer the right price, whether it’s legal or not, whether all participants are willing or not.”

Now both of Leese’s brows snapped down. “You’re talking rape?”

“Sadly, yes. There’ve been accusations, some of them truly gruesome, but none have been proven because witnesses have a way of changing their tune, probably after being bought off, or they disappear, likely—”

“Murdered.” The second the word left her mouth, Cat’s stomach jolted. Oh God, she’d said it aloud. She fought off the panic, knowing she’d just crossed a line; she’d admitted the awful truth, trusted these people when for so long she’d been afraid to trust anyone, even her family.

But what choice did she have? She couldn’t continue living her life on the run, and she didn’t want to end up on that island, a victim herself. Sooner or later she had to share it all. For whatever innate reasons existed, she trusted Leese. Really trusted him.

By association, she trusted his closest colleagues. She couldn’t believe he would bring her here, ask her to explain everything to Sahara and Justice, if he didn’t know it would be safe.

On top of that, she was in a secure building, shielded from threats. Justice had already gotten past her guard and, as the owner of the elite bodyguard agency, Sahara seemed to have a measure of her own power.

When would another, better opportunity present itself?

Now that the truth was out there, it brought about a heavy silence. Disbelief? Uncertainty?

Accusation?