How Much For The Whole Night? Read online

  "Time’s up," he ground out, grabbing at Josh's wallet and taking out the folded notes in there, dropping it on the bed. It was empty now of all but photos of a kid with tousled hair and a toothy grin. He didn’t look to meet the sapphire eyes, sleepy and sated, as his client watched him leave from the bed. This was Ethan's job, and he was damn good at it, he didn't suffer one moment of guilt or indecision. Not one moment.

  Not even as cameras had recorded every profanity, every thrust, and every moan, of Josh Anderson's walk on the dark side, all for his ex-wife's lawyers to suggest he was an unfit father.

  Ethan would be well paid for this. He had demanded twenty thousand for tonight, and hadn’t settled for one cent less, played his part well, got the evidence his boss needed. This one had been very pretty, all Ivy League short hair, slim hips and thoughtful blue eyes, no hardship involved at all. Writhing and moaning and demanding beneath him Josh had been incendiary.

  "Thank you," the words were almost whispered, but Ethan heard them as he walked away. Thank you? Who the hell thanked the person they paid to fuck them. He hadn’t gone halfway down the hall before something inside, something old and ingrained started to crack, and just because of those two freaking words. He stopped. Looking at his reflection in the cracked glass of the landing window he saw more of the same, a man in his mid-twenties who had resolved this would be his last job, his last set up. Yet leaving this Josh, a man fighting for his son, that much Ethan knew, was proving difficult.

  Mission accomplished as usual, but he abruptly knew it wasn't the victory he wanted.

  He shook his head; he was going to screw this entire thing up, it was a job, nothing more. He didn’t have to worry about consequences in situations like this; it was the end result that he needed to think about. He shook off his unease and took the stairs three at a time, landing in the foyer with a final jump. The reception area, behind bars, was empty of the usual guy who took a $100 cut for every client that hookers brought here.

  Ethan almost made it to the front door, but he stopped maybe three foot inside. He couldn’t make himself move out into the street. His head was telling him to go, and his not-often-listened-to heart telling him to go back to the room. The things he did, the things that made him the best at what he did, they told him to leave, to let his partner pick up the mess now. His heart though. Just seeing the picture of the boy he only knew as the one people were fighting over? That image started to chip away at his reserves. With that final thank you from the man he had fucked into the mattress, he was just finished. Cursing, he walked back up the stairs, this time more sedately, wondering what the hell he was going to say to the person he should never really be seeing again.

  When he arrived at the door and pushed it open carefully, it was to see Josh sitting on the side of the bed. His head in his hands, he was half dressed, his posture one of total defeat. Josh looked up startled as Ethan moved past him into the room and crossed to the closet, his height meaning he could reach over the top and to the boxes that sat there, pulling down the top one and tossing it on the bed.

  "It was recorded," Ethan said simply, standing with legs wide and steady in front of the bemused Josh, waiting for a reply. The color drained from Josh’s face, his blue eyes bright against pale skin and Ethan watched as he opened the box to see a neat little camcorder taped inside. Ethan watched as Josh pulled at the duct tape, pulling the video camera free and holding it in shaking hands. It was obvious Josh had questions, but nothing was coming out, and he was just staring at the camera and then up to Ethan, his face a mask of shock.

  "Take it." Ethan instructed simply, "destroy it," he added calmly, and then walked to the door, taking his leave of this whole sorry deal.

  "Wait," he heard Josh call out after him, "Ethan…"

  Ethan paused in his tactical retreat, patiently turning on his heel, his face carefully blank of the emotions that were currently churning in his stomach, emotions foreign to him.

  "You didn’t pay me to talk," he bit out quickly, staying in character.

  Josh quirked an eyebrow in confusion. "I didn’t pay you to hand me a camera that filmed us fucking either." He had a point. Ethan heard a thread of coolness in Josh, and he sighed. What was it about this man and his ‘thank you’ that was causing Ethan to throw years of work out of the window? He wondered what to say, his usual confidence sadly missing in this alien situation.

  "They paid me to fuck you, film you, I got a conscience is all. That is all you need to know." Ethan offered, taking a step back towards the door. Josh just looked at him, and Ethan knew he wasn’t hiding his emotions as well as he had hoped, Josh wasn’t stupid, would immediately see through anything he tried to say.

  "Who paid you?" Josh asked.

  "Anonymous," Ethan responded quickly, "something about a custody battle."

  Josh shook his head sadly. He had the weight of the world settling on him, and he suddenly looked exhausted.

  "I want full custody of my son. He’s nearly ten, with his mother most of the time, he’s…I see him holidays…odd weekends…" Ethan nodded at Josh’s words, acknowledging he knew that much. "He needs me…he…shit…last time…I saw bruises." He stopped talking abruptly, fear flashing in his eyes that he had maybe said too much, and instead Ethan watched as Josh focused on the camera. "So they film this? Her husband to be? Her lawyers? And they do what with it? Blackmail me into backing off?"

  Ethan shrugged, Josh was getting too close to the center of this with his observations. "It’s what they usually do."

  "They?"

  "Lawyers and shit."

  Josh looked visibly defeated. Then it appeared he pulled something from inside him. A determination to fight and to not let this go quietly. Ethan had seen the look in men's eyes before.

  "They pay you well?" Josh asked quietly.

  "They do. I quit though." Ethan stood his ground even as Josh took a step towards him, anger in his stance, deceptively calm, his chest bare, each muscle defined more than you would expect from an accountant. "You were my last job," Ethan added simply, gesturing with his hand towards Josh.

  "Hence the sudden conscience?" Josh asked.

  Ethan winced, there was nothing but derision in Josh’s voice as the older man withdrew his hands from his pockets and curled them into fists at his side.

  "No," Ethan shook his head briefly and one side of his mouth lifted in a kind of twisted amusement, "fuck knows what caused that one." Although if he were to list the reasons, he imagined a pretty face and blue eyes would be somewhere at the top of that list. He shifted slightly to one side as Josh reached past him and pushed the door shut, stiffening as he expected the first punch. Instead, Josh moved back to the bed, turning his back to Ethan and sighing, dropping his shoulders. Ethan wasn’t stupid either; because of him, Josh could have lost his son to his ex-wife and her politician husband on a more or less permanent basis. Josh had every right to be pissed, furious, disgusted, but Ethan assumed that he must still be riding the high of orgasm because he just looked exhausted. Ethan wondered what Josh saw in his face. Did he see the sadness and regret that Ethan was feeling at what he had had to do?

  "Why did I do it?" he murmured. Ethan wasn’t entirely sure Josh was talking to him. "Why, after all these years did I give in to what I really want? The night before the final hearing for God's sake?"

  "I don’t know—" Ethan shrugged. Hell. He didn’t know what the hell was going on with any of this.

  It shocked Ethan when Josh sighed, turned to face him and then extended his hand. "Josh Anderson."

  Ethan hesitated; the decision he had to make was a little less simple than just handing over his name. To do that meant blowing a year of work, but there was something about Josh. Not even for his job could he go through with this. He was sick of being the one used to destroy lives. There was the love for his son in the words Josh had used that screamed vulnerable and defeated.

  Whether Ethan liked it or not his cover was blown. Ethan had gotten this far but could he g
o through with what he had been assigned to do? He was not going to sacrifice Josh on an altar of netting a clutch of crooked lawyers, albeit drug dealing crooked lawyers. The DA was pushing for a conviction for the drugs, the blackmail, but the icing on the cake was the very man that Josh was fighting against for custody. The politician that was marrying Josh’s ex-wife. The man who plotted to take Josh’s son, the one who was allegedly responsible for so many unsolved murders and for child abduction, that Ethan had been called in as a last resort for this skin job. And hadn't he done well? What happened here in this room was supposed to be the turning point of the case. It was an 'in' and a way for Ethan to prove himself to the man Josh was losing his son too. If Ethan could show he was a good man to use in a situation like this, then he could be an inside man.

  What the fuck am I doing? This will destroy Josh and leave Josh's son in the hands of a sadistic criminal.

  I am so screwed. I can't do this to him.

  There must be some other way to do this. If he could get Josh to play along? Would Josh believe a word Ethan said?

  Ethan took Josh’s hand, cursing that he had no ID on him to back up what he was going to say.

  "Masters." He paused. He was well aware he was fucking up five months of his surveillance and undercover work with this one sentence.

  "Special Agent Ethan Masters. FBI."

  THE END

  RJ SCOTT

  RJ's goal is to write stories with a heart of romance, a troubled road to reach happiness, and most importantly, that hint of a happily ever after.

  RJ Scott is the bestselling author of over one hundred romance books. She writes emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, millionaire, princes, and the men who get mixed up in their lives. RJ is known for writing books that always end with a happy ever after. She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn't with family either reading or writing.

  The last time she had a week’s break from writing she didn't like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a bottle of wine she couldn’t defeat.

  Website: www.rjscott.co.uk

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/author.rjscott

  Twitter: Rjscott_author

  Pinterest: pinterest.com/rjscottauthor

  Goodreads: goodreads.com/author/show/3432558.R_J_Scott

  Table of Contents

  How Much For The Whole Night?

  All Rights Reserved

  Contents

  Josh

  Ethan

  RJ Scott