The Biker's Wench (12 page)

Monica did her best to smile as Harley carried her into Veronica's dressing room. He finally put her down, keeping his hands at her waist to steady her.
"Geez Harley. I know you want to set up a cave-man fantasy, but I'm not sure getting clubbed on the head is gonna trigger that 'take me like an animal' instinct, if you know what I mean."
Monica turned around to look at the blond. Veronica winked, her lips curved up in an impish smile. Monica grinned back.
"I--that's not what happened," he stuttered.
"A club-shaped pillow might work better," Monica quipped, earning a squeeze at her waist where Harley still supported her. "But sadly, I can't let him take credit for this. I slipped on the floor in the hall and slid into one of those gorgeous columns." She reached to feel the back of her head. "How could you tell? I didn't think it was that--" Warm, sticky fluid coated her fingers, and she looked at them in shock. " Oh.
I'm...uh...bleeding."
Veronica took her hand. "Come with me, and we'll get you cleaned up. It's probably not as bad as it seems - head wounds bleed a lot." She pulled her past a rack of clothing and a cluttered makeup table to a small bathroom, patting the side of the bathtub. "Sit here and I'll get a towel and some ice." Harley stood in the doorway, holding his phone to one ear.
"I need you at the harem right away. Room 104....that's right, Veronica's room. It's not her though, and I'd rather you kept this between us." He paused, glancing over at Monica quickly before turning away. "A head injury, but she's conscious." He finished the call and tucked his phone in his pocket. "I've got to go...but I'll be back as soon as I can."
Monica nodded as something cold pressed against the back of her head. "Be careful," she said, reaching up to hold the ice pack in place. He nodded and walked away without so much as a backward look. After the door shut, Veronica came around to lean against the vanity, arms crossed over her chest.
"Okay, spill. What the heck's going on here? I can't believe he would do something like this, but if he hurt you..."
Monica shook her head, the movement making her head spin. "No! He'd never hurt me." She waited until the room stopped moving and considered how much she should say, knowing from the look on Veronica's face that she wasn't going to buy some lame story. Still, it would be better not to share details. Not yet, anyway. "I sort of got Harley in some trouble," she said carefully. "Big trouble. And we're trying to fix it."
Veronica stared at her, her brow creased in thought. Someone knocked at the door, and she finally nodded. "I'm a personal security trainer when I'm not working here," she said, her tone the same as if she'd been talking about the weather. "Before you leave, I'll show you some moves that might come in handy."

Harley dialed another number as he made his way to the back of the building. On the fourth ring, a groggy voice answered.
"Alex? Sorry to wake you, but I need a favor. My wife and I need to change our appearance for a while, something conservative, but rich. Think you can handle that?" He heard fabric rustling on the other end, and then paper rattling.
"You got married? How did that happen?" The makeup artist sounded unimpressed, not that Harley could blame him. Two days ago he wouldn't have believed it himself.
"It's not important - I can explain later. I’m surprised you hadn’t heard already. Everyone else seems to know.”
Alex chuckled on the other end of the line. “I took a few days off, and the girls aren’t here yet. Wanna bet who will rush to tell me first?”
Harley grinned. “Nope. I just hope no one gets hurt in that race. Can you have that stuff ready for us later this morning? We've kind of got a situation to deal with."
"Sure. I'll get going on it right away. Wanna meet me in the studio anytime after six?"
Harley nodded, checking his watch. Two hours should be enough time to collect what he needed from security and get back to Monica. "Yep - can do. Thanks Alex, I owe you one."
The other man laughed. "Buy me a beer this weekend, and we'll call it good."
"Deal." Harley put the phone back in his pocket, and slipped out the back door. Hopefully daybreak was still an hour off - the darkness would provide good cover for moving around the compound. The surveillance equipment would be hard enough to get with Burns’ security detail right there, but he also needed to break into the suite Burns was working out of, and steal a buyer's name so they could intercept the hand-off. It was too late to set up a real transaction, but posing as clients should do the trick. He didn't want to drag this out. It ended today.
Moving quickly and staying in the shadows, he circled wide to approach the dormitory from behind. A single sentry stood by the back door, the orange glow of a cigarette marking his position. Harley decided the direct approach was probably the easiest, and strode boldly out into the empty yard.
Dropping his cigarette, the guard came away from the wall to meet him. "Who are yo--"
Without hesitation, Harley put his fist into the man's face, watching with satisfaction as the guard spun around to land face-first on the ground. Harley bent over to make sure the man was out cold, then stepped over him and let himself into the building. Taking the stairs two at a time, he reached the third floor quickly, knowing he didn't have much time until the guard came to outside. He reached into his pocket for keys as he walked toward room 312, stopping as a flash of red on the wall caught his eye. Backing up, he stared at the fire alarm for a moment, considering the possibilities. Not only would it clear out the rooms here, it would bring security, leaving the office either empty or light on personnel. Shoving his keys back into his pocket, he raised his arm, pulled the sleeve of his leather jacket tight, and brought his elbow down hard on the glass rod, sprinting back down the hall to hide in the small staff room beside the elevator.
He watched people run past from behind a huge fake tree, grateful when he saw the woman from the other night enter the stairwell, a baby-sized bundle in her arms. Some wouldn't leave, he knew, but she was the important one. Slipping down the now-quiet hall, he inserted his master key in the lock for room 312 and let himself in, shutting the door as quietly as possible. Moving cautiously lest a bodyguard had been left behind, he searched the rooms, looking for anything that would tell him where the next meet was supposed to be.
The fire alarm quieted. Damn. It was too quick for the fire department to have arrived, which meant the security guys must have figured out his ruse. He stood in the doorway to the bedroom, taking one last look. He'd have to go across the hall, if he still could...
His gaze landed on a tiny rounded edge of metal barely peeking out from under the bed. Frowning, he jogged over and pulled it out. A cell phone. His luck had just changed. Checking the calendar, he found a drop off scheduled for three in the afternoon with a "Mr. & Mrs. Jones". How original.
Pushing the phone into his jeans pocket, he went for the door, only to hear a key being fitted in the lock. He ran back into the bedroom & pushed the window open, climbing out on a narrow ledge. Stretching out with his foot, he pushed the window shut and then scooted along the brick until he reached a metal roof access ladder. He climbed down as quickly as possible, grateful for the early morning darkness as he ran into the trees and made his way across the compound to the security office.
As expected, security seemed light as one lone guard wandered back and forth at the back of the building. Through the windows, two more large silhouettes were moving within. Harley didn't need to get into the building itself, just a small shed about a hundred yards away where the old equipment was kept. As long as everyone stayed where they were, he should be able to sneak in and out without being detected.
Keeping to the cover of trees, he moved around the perimeter as the first streaks of light started to appear in the sky. He crouched low just behind the shed, sneaking slowly around the corner and up the side. Peeking around to the front door, he noted that the padlock was missing, and for once he was grateful he hadn't had time to replace it. The guard turned his back, and Harley sprinted for the shed door, just barely closing it behind him as he saw the guard turn again through the dirty window.
It was dark, but Harley knew what he was looking for. He felt his way down the shelves to the very back of the shed, and took a small box from where he'd left it months ago. He tucked it under his arm like a football, and went back to the door, letting himself out the same way he'd gone in. As the sun started to come up over the horizon, he took out his cell phone and dialed the harem.
"Veronica Rowan, please." He waited for her to pick up, scowling when no one answered. His heart racing, he jogged between buildings to the Double D. Where could they have gone? A million scenarios raced through his mind as he opened the cellar door and descended into the warren of tunnels once more. He grabbed a flashlight at the entrance and jogged toward the harem, dreading what he'd find when he got there.

* * *
"Who is he?" Monica asked, careful to keep her voice low. Veronica and one of the other girls had shown her a few easy ways to get loose if someone grabbed her, and on the way out of the gym the harem girl had paused, her attention drawn to a man working on a piece of equipment across the room. He already had an audience of three other giggling beauties, and Veronica shook her head, turning back to the door.

"That's Chance, the handyman. As you can see he's quite...popular." She pulled Monica into the hall. "We'd better get back to my dressing room before Harley figures out I forgot my phone. There will be hell to pay if he's looking for you."

Monica hurried behind her, grinning at the way Veronica had changed the subject. "So you and Chance..."
"No." She fitted the key in her lock then held the door open for Monica. "I don't date guys bigger than me," she clarified, still holding the door open. She smiled wryly, winking at Monica as footsteps pounded down the hall toward them. "Not quick enough, I guess." Harley skidded to a stop in front of the door just then, breathing heavily as Monica raised an eyebrow at him.
"Miss me?"
In two steps he was in front of her, dropping a box to the floor as he pulled her tight to his chest. His lips descended, delivering a punishing, possessive kiss that made Monica's head spin. She grasped Harley's neck, running her fingers through his hair as she gave him the reassurance he obviously sought. When he pulled back, he glanced over his shoulder at Veronica.
"Why didn't you answer the phone? I thought something happened..."
Monica reached up and turned his head to face her. "We just forgot the phone is all. Veronica was showing me a few protection moves in the gym, and--"
Harley frowned and stepped back, leaving Monica to miss the warm contact. "You left this room? I told you to stay here. What if someone had seen you?" He turned around. "And what were you thinking, taking her out there, showing her moves? She's got a gash in her head, dammit - what the hell were you thinking?"
"Whoa." Veronica put both hands up. "I was thinking she needed to stay awake, and this little room wasn't cutting it. Laura and I demonstrated some moves for her - she didn't actually do anything but watch. And you never said not to leave the room. So just cool it. Everyone's fine."
Monica saw Harley's fists clench. Apparently Veronica did too, judging from her tense muscles and the way she tried to back up. Only there was no where to go, and she pressed herself tight against the door, eyes narrowed in a cold stare. Monica stepped in front of Harley, putting a hand in the center of his chest.
"That's enough. Calm down, both of you. I'm fine, nothing happened. Did you get what we need, hon?"
At the endearment, he looked down, the tension slowly leaving his body as he nodded. He glanced over her shoulder. "You and I will talk later." Looking down at Monica, he bent to pick up the box he'd dropped earlier, and grabbed her hand. "We have to go. Now."
Veronica opened the door, standing well away as he pulled her forward. Monica shrugged as she went past, relieved when Veronica winked at her. The door closed and she jogged after Harley down a long hallway and two flights of stairs into a dark basement. He unlocked a door underneath the stairwell and ushered her into the tunnels once again.

"You scared her," Monica said a couple minutes later, following Harley down the cold, dark passage. Her nose wrinkled at the strong, earthy scent, more prominent here than in the other tunnels. The walls seemed closer too, and the flashlight beam barely illuminated the rough path ahead. She shivered.

"It isn't the first time, and probably won't be the last," Harley said, never breaking stride. "She can handle it."
Monica stumbled over an uneven patch of earth, reaching one hand out to steady herself on the wall. The surface was sharper than she'd anticipated and she felt the rock dig into her skin. "Ow." She wiped her hand on her jeans, walking right into Harley's back when he stopped short. "I just don't think she should have to handle it. You didn't have to be so--"
"So what?" He turned, holding the flashlight up like a torch, providing too little light to do any good. "I've known Veronica a lot longer than you, darlin', and she'd be insulted if I changed on account of her." He played the light over Monica's body, scanning up one side and down the other. "What was 'ow'?"
She shook her head. "Just a scrape on my hand, nothing important." She held her hand out, palm up so he could inspect it, surprised when he put the box he held on the floor so he could hold her fingers steady. Nervous, she shifted from one foot to the other, his silence putting all sorts of bad thoughts about what might be on the wall in her head. "I tripped, and used the wall to keep from falling. Is that okay? Something I should know?"
He raised her hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss in the center. "No, sorry. I should have warned you the tunnel walls are rougher on this side of the ranch. We haven't done anything with these just because of how different the rock is here. You're okay then?"
She laughed. "Of course. I'm fine. Really." He leaned closer, and for a moment she thought he might kiss her, but he bent to pick up the small box, and turned to start walking again. "What's in the box?" she asked, paying close attention to the ground as she followed.
"Old surveillance stuff." He paused, leading her into a side tunnel that felt even smaller than the first one had. "I got a video recorder and a voice recorder - just in case the video fails for some reason. They're both digital, so when we're done we can just take the whole thing to the authorities." He stopped in front of a metal ladder attached to a wall, and shined the flashlight overhead. Monica could see a square wooden door above.
"We're going up here?"
Harley nodded, handing her the box. "Let me climb up and make sure there's nothing over the door." The ladder wasn't very long, and Harley was pushing the wooden slabs up soon after. Monica expected to see light from the crack he opened up, but it was just more darkness. Harley shoved hard, and one side of the door flew up and to the side. He reached down for the box and then climbed up the rest of the way. Thirty seconds later Monica climbed up into a very tidy storage room lined with shelves and racks of clothing.
Swinging the door back into place, Harley secured it. "This way," he said, moving to a door at the far end of the room. He pulled it open and bright, blinding light streamed in. Blinking hard, Monica squinted, unable to see a thing.
"It's about time you guys got here," a low, unfamiliar voice rumbled.
Monica stepped into the brightness after Harley, the door behind her closing with a loud click. Her eyes gradually adjusted, and when she could finally see again Harley was shaking hands with yet another tall, rugged-looking guy with a killer jaw line. She shook her head, earning confused looks from both men.
"Monica, this is Alex. He manages the salon for me, and does massage, hair, makeup, and nails. Today he's our costume and makeover guru." Harley took her hand, pulling her forward.
She held her other hand out and smiled. "Nice to meet you, Alex. I wasn't expecting someone so--"
"Not gay?" He grinned, winking at Harley. "I get that a lot. The ladies don't seem to mind though."
She shook her head, laughing. "That never crossed my mind, actually. You're just so...well...good-looking. And manly. You look like you should be working at the Double D with Harley, not shampooing hair." An image of him bent over a woman's hands, applying polish flitted through her mind, and she couldn't decide if it was sexy or just weird.
Alex led them to a corner of the room set up with two salon chairs, and motioned for them to sit down. "I used to work in Hollywood, actually - a small studio doing costumes and makeup. If it makes you feel better, I worked mostly on horror films. Lots of fake blood and carnage." He winked at her then tilted his head, his eyes turning serious as he examined her from head to toe. Monica felt like squirming under his gaze, but managed to stay still.
"When I met him, the studio had just closed and he was out of work. I offered him the same salary and training if he'd fulfill a few fantasies per day." Harley chuckled. "He didn't put up much of a fight."
Alex ran his fingers over Monica's jaw, turning her head gently right and left. "It's a good gig," he said, releasing her and stepping back with a nod. "I get to make women feel beautiful for a few hours, they're...uh, very grateful, and I get paid for it." He moved to a clothing rack and retrieved a professional-looking gray skirt suit in a clear garment bag. "We'll start you with this. And before you argue, remember you're going undercover. You need to look as little like yourself as possible."
She stood, wrinkling her nose as she accepted the hanger. "Where--"
"Right behind that screen." He pointed behind her to a dark red folding screen with a black frame. She went behind it and changed quickly, listening to the guys bantering like old friends. There was a white silk blouse to go under the jacket, and thigh-high panty hose that she wrestled up her legs, trying to remember the last time she'd worn a pair. Slipping her feet into matching gray pumps, she stepped out from behind the screen, heels clicking on the hard floor.
"You clean up good, Mrs. Majors." Harley stood on the other side of the room in front of a similar screen. He'd changed into a black suit and tie with a blue shirt underneath, and Monica nearly swooned at the sight of those wide shoulders draped in expensive fabric.
"Likewise, Mr. Majors." She started walking toward him, her thigh-highs suddenly feeling very sexy.
Alex stepped between them, holding one hand up at each of them. "Sorry guys. We've still got a long ways to go here, and I've got a client in two hours. Back to your chairs for now. You can rip those clothes off each other later."
Monica stuck out her lower lip and sighed. "Fine. But you're not really helping me fulfill my fantasy." She settled into her chair as Alex covered her with an apron, securing it at her neck.
"Don't worry sweetheart," Harley said, leaning back in his own chair. "I'll make sure your fantasies come true in good time."