Page 13 of Dirty Daria
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I return.
“Name’s Mack.” He holds out his hand.
I take it in mine, surprised when he leans down to kiss the back of it. A slight tremor runs through my body. The second time in as many minutes that this man has affected me.
“Daria,” I return.
The tremor can only be an effect of the alcohol. Or the slight cool in the air. Because I don’t allow men to impact me in such a manner. They are distracting.
“What do you do,Mack.” I put unnecessary emphasis on his name liking the way it falls from my lips.
“I work in security.”
“Oh. Like alarm systems?”
“Among other things. It requires that I travel a bit, but I’m based here in Santa Caranina. What about you?”
“I own a bar. It’s not quite open yet, we are finishing some remodels.” I don’t tell him that I bought the bar to stay in the US and search for my sister. At the same time pushing to the back of my mind that I’ve yet to tell my father she’s missing.
7
Mack - Eighteen Months Ago
The Russians are always on our radar for various things. Lately, it’s been sex trafficking and underground pornography. While the FBI doesn’t often send guys undercover, if at all, they have recently with me. My partner, Reed, and I work a lot of the trafficking cases, and for the last year we’ve been trying to find a connection between Ronan Sinclair and a passel of women who’ve gone missing.
There are more women missing than what we’re aware, I know that for sure. Proving it is a different story. Evenings like tonight are supposed to help with that. Andrei Turgenev is a guy on Sinclair’s payroll, sure. But coming to parties such as this at Turgenev’s house are a waste of time to me. Nothing too nefarious happens in the open, before strangers and the public. Illegal drugs? Sure. Not enough to blink at and not why I’m here.
Which is why it’s so fortuitous I found someone, like the lovely Daria here, to pass the time with. She sits next to me, coolly sipping her vodka, watching me with heated eyes. She intrigues me, for sure. And I can’t get a bead on what she’s looking for here at the party. But, like me, she is on alert while projecting a cool and calm façade. We’ve spent the last half hour making conversation, mostly small talk. So I can’t even identify what it is about her that interests me.
She’s gorgeous as fuck. With legs I want to see flung over my shoulders while I fuck her into oblivion. So, about ten minutes ago, I started finding reasons to touch her. Big mistake. All I can think about now is ripping that dress off her and running my hands along every inch of her body. Use my heat to melt everything about her that is cold.
She doesn’t giggle. Or flip her hair. There is no batting of eyelashes, none of the signs that I’m accustomed to women using to show their interest. Which makes her a challenge; it’s more than just that though, and I need to figure out what thatmoreis.
I know I affect her. I can see that. But she doesn’t give in to it. She’s not law enforcement, but she is in total control of herself and her surroundings. I’m willing to bet she’s had some sort of training. That said, I still got the best of her when I sat down beside her at the bar.
A band takes the stage, a popular one given the reaction of the crowd. The singer is a woman whose voice sounds familiar, but I still couldn’t tell you who it is. The melody is haunting and sultry. I stand and pull Daria up and into my arms for a dance.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Dancing, babe.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
I wrap her more firmly in my embrace, my left hand secure at her lower back as I bring our intertwined fingers to my shoulder, forcing her cheek to my chest. It takes a moment, but soon her body relaxes against mine, as though resigning herself to cooperate. I can’t stop the smile that takes over my face.
“Don’t smile,” she says, making me laugh. “It’s just a dance.”
“It’s a victory.”
“How so?” She angles her head back to look me in the eye.
“One, you’re trying not to like me, but you do. Two, I’m willing to bet you don’t usually dance at parties, but you are. Three, you enjoy the way our bodies fit together just as much as I do.”
“What was that thing you said earlier? Pfft?” Her eyes sparkle as she teases me.
