squeezed her hand, and the warmth seemed to spread through her limbs. This guy did things to her like no other.
“I travel a great deal and pick up languages as I go,” he said. “I guess some might say I have an affinity for it.”
They were on a busy street in the Banglampu district and only a few blocks from their destination. The small talk was Mar’s way of easing her nerves. She had let Jackson become a distraction and that was far from a good thing, especially since she had no idea what she would do once they arrived at the sauna and massage parlor.
Should I question the owner? Try to find out if they’ve ever seen or heard of Mr. Gladstone? That didn’t seem such a smart idea since people in these kinds of places valued confidentiality.
Mar wasn’t so naive that she didn’t know a couple of hundred dollars in the right hands could buy all the information she needed. That’s why she had more than a thousand tucked under her bra in a special pouch. The problem was how to know which palm to grease. That’s something they didn’t teach in the textbooks.
I should have called Katie and asked her what questions to pose. I don’t have a clue what I’m supposed to do once we get in there.
As they turned the corner she saw the neon sign. Her stomach churned.
Be a big girl and do the job. Follow procedure.
Thanks to her degree, and the studying and observing she’d done the last year, maybe she could at least fake her way through this thing. Gather the information. It was an easy first step. Mar almost snorted at that.
Jackson stopped halfway down the block and turned to her. “Are you okay? You seem nervous.”
“Nervous?” She repeated his words because she wasn’t sure what to say. As far as he knew she was a seasoned professional, a jaded detective who did this sort of thing all the time. “Of course not. Still a little jet-lagged.” Liar. “I’m trying to determine the best course of action. Deep thoughts and all that.” Shut up. Deep thoughts? What the hell am I saying?
Eyeing her curiously, he smiled. “Like I said before, it’s probably best to act like we’re together. If you don’t mind, I’ll take the lead. I’ll ask for a couples massage, then we can tag team them.”
At that her eyes snapped up. Naked? In a room with Jackson? Oh, my. “Sure, I’ll take your lead on this. You know the area and the people better than I do.” Her voice came out as a whisper.
“It will probably be easier to get information if we have a couple of the girls alone. While we’re getting the massage we’ll try to talk to them.”
Sounded like a great plan to Mar—one where she didn’t make an idiot of herself by running back to her hotel to hide under the covers. She would never do that, but she’d thought about it more than once throughout the evening.
There was one big problem in giving up—Stonegate had a one hundred percent success rate on closing cases and she refused to be the one to screw that up.
No. You will pay attention and help Jackson get the information you need. Pretend. Like theater class, assume the role of the doting wife. I’ll imagine he’s the man of my dreams—okay, that won’t be such a stretch.
Since he knew the language, Jackson would be doing most of the talking and she could follow along like a good little puppy. No one need ever know she was a terrified neophyte.
This might work out well after all.
“Great,” she murmured as they passed through the door into the tacky reception area. Deep red walls overpowered the small space and there were golden statuettes on every available surface. The art on the walls was of nude Asian women pleasuring themselves in a variety of positions. The place was one giant cliché, exactly what she thought of when she imagined a Bangkok massage parlor.
Mar swallowed hard and concentrated on the old woman behind the high desk.
“You American?” she said in English.
“Yes.” Jackson gave her a devastating grin.
She looked him up and down as if he were a piece of beef for sale. “Prices here.” She pointed up at a board behind her.
If Mar’s currency exchange rates were right in her head, this would be a cheap night. Couples massage was listed in Thai, French and English, and it was only a hundred. There was a dash and then, EXTRAS $200 American Dollars.
Mar didn’t want to think about what EXTRAS meant.
“We want the couples massage. No extras,” Jackson told the woman.
That last comment caused her to choke, and Mar stifled a cough with her hand.
“You pay first.” The old woman stuck out her hand.
Jackson pulled out some bills, making sure to separate a twenty to tip the older woman.
She winked at him and then pushed a button so that a door to their left opened. “Third door. Green one. You undress then push button by bed. Girls there in a minute.”
Undress? Mar’s hands trembled and she stuffed them into the pockets of her jeans. As she followed Jackson down the hall, she seriously wondered why she’d thought it a good idea to catch dinner before they began investigating. Her stomach didn’t seem to want to play nice, and it gurgled in a not-so-sexy fashion.
Taking a deep breath, she moved through the door when he held it open for her.
This room was a bit more Zen than the entry. There were two massage tables with what looked like clean sheets and blankets. There was a place on the back side of the door to hang clothing. Two candles burned on a shelf with a variety of bottled oils.
Jackson unbuttoned his shirt and hung it on one of the hooks.
Mar gasped. The man was beyond gorgeous. Well-defined muscles on his back led down to narrow hips. What intrigued her the most were the scars. She was no expert but more than one looked like it had come from a bullet.
He glanced back to look at her. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Nudity doesn’t bother me like it does some people. I’ll get undressed and then lay down so you’ll have some privacy.”
Mar’s hands waved madly of their own volition. “It’s no big deal. We’re professionals doing what it takes to get the job done. And if we get a great massage in the process, who’s complaining?” The words were lame even to her but she couldn’t seem to shut up.
“So are we expected to strip all the way down?” She turned her back as Jackson unzipped his jeans. “I’m not sure if I should wear my underwear or not. I never am. It’s crazy. I get massages all the time, but I’ve never had the courage to ask.” She kept blathering on, to her own chagrin.
She heard him move. “I suppose it depends on the client and their level of modesty. Doesn’t bother me. My lower back’s giving me trouble so I’m losing the shorts. Okay, I’m on the table. I’ll keep my head to the wall until you are under the sheets.”
Mar glanced over
