Exposed - A Thriller Novella (Chandler Series) by J.A. Konrath & Ann Voss Peterson
shoot.”These men might not be overly concerned aboutselling their modeling agency cover, but they weren’t stupid.Making me strip in front of them provided more than a cheap thrill.It let them check if I was wearing a wire. Or a weapon.
“Sure.”
I unslung my purse. Leaving my heels on, Ipulled the dress over my head. Next I slipped off my bra, steppedout of my panties and stood in front of them totally nude.
The fact that four men were staring didn’tbother me. After all, I was a model, used to being gawked at. Itried on a playful smile and held out my hand for the bikini.
After a lengthy pause, the man in chargehanded me a scrap of a swimsuit.
I pulled it on, keeping my voice steady. “Letme know when you’re ready for me,” I breathed, then wiggled acrossthe patio and took the chair beside the blonde.
“I’m Claire.”
“Julianne.”
I peered into her sunglasses, but only myreflection stared back.
“Are you going to be part of the shoot?”
A slow shake of her head.
“They say I’m going to Paris.” She didn’tseem convinced, and the syllables took too long to roll off hertongue. From all appearances she was under the influence ofsomething beyond the lust for modeling stardom.
“Really?” I forced awe into my voice. “Tomodel? When?”
“They said soon.”
Jacob might not have a lot of informationabout this operation, but what he did have was correct as usual.Now I only had to figure out how to get her out of here before“soon” rolled around.
“Have you signed a contract?”
Another head shake. For someone who’d beentold she was about to go to Paris to model, Julianne was actingincredibly detached.
“I know an attorney. He told me what to lookfor. You know, just to make sure you’re getting what you’reworth.”
I didn’t know if an eighteen year old wouldcare about something as practical as contract negotiation,especially when she was sailing on whatever drug they had givenher. But I needed to lure her away from the pool and the menwatching us, and beyond physically dragging her, I had few options.“If we could go somewhere private for just a few seconds, I’ll fillyou in.”
“No, thanks.”
“It’ll just take—”
She lowered her voice. “They aren’t going tolike you talking to me.”
Then I understood. I wasn’t hearingdisinterest in her voice. I was hearing worry.
“Why not?” I asked.
She leaned in closer. “They haven’t taken anypictures of me. They won’t let me leave. I can’t even make outsidephone calls.”
“You’re the only girl here?”
“No. There are others. But they’re doingX-rated stuff.”
“Have they made you do any?” I asked, feelingmyself grow cold.
“They haven’t even asked. No one has triedanything.” She shook her head, like she was denying an accusation.“Men have always liked me. I’ve never been around guys who didn’ttry to hit on me.”
My first thought was surprise that these menhadn’t tasted the goods.
My second was that maybe there was areason.
“Julianne, are you a virgin?”
Virgins fetched top dollar on the slavemarket.
A crease dug between her eyebrows.“What?”
“Are you?”
“Not since I was fourteen.” She lowered hersunglasses, staring into my eyes. They were glassy, but there waspanic dancing beneath the dope haze.
“Have they hurt you? Threatened you?”
“They mostly ignore me. I thought maybe theywere gay, but I saw two of them messing around with the othergirls.”
I considered repeating what Jacob had toldme, that she was going to be sold. But I didn’t see how scaring hereven more would improve the situation. Besides, something wasn’tadding up.
“I don’t think they’re taking me to Paris,”she said.
“So why are you here?”
“I don’t know.” Her eyes focused on me, andshe lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’m scared.”
“I can get you out of here,” I said. “Do youwant me to?”
She nodded. “Will you? Please?”
“Leave it to me, okay? Just be ready when Itell you.”
“Thanks.” She reached over, squeezed myhand.
I squeezed back.
Movement, in my peripheral vision. HawaiianShirt had left the other men and was now circling the pool to wherewe sat, an expensive-looking digital camera around his neck. Hemotioned to me, the tip of his tongue flicking out and runningacross his bottom lip.
“Okay, you. Miss Hot to Trot. Come on.”
I didn’t want to let Julianne out of mysight, but I couldn’t exactly refuse my chance to become a bigstar. A few bikini shots in the sand would still give me a chanceto keep an eye on her. I scrambled to my feet, doing my best tolook excited.
He turned in the direction of the house.
“I thought we were going to shoot on thebeach, since I’m wearing a swim suit and all.”
He opened the patio door and ushered meinside. “Trust me, honey. This will be better.”
Inside he made for the staircase to thesecond floor.
I could guess what kind of pictures he wasplanning to take. A guess that was confirmed as we went deeper intothe mansion. A long hallway opened at the top of the stairs, doorsflanking both sides, most standing open. I peeked into the first,hearing moaning.
The lighting—a simple klieg on a tripod—wasstrictly amateur hour. And so was the talent. But what she lackedin professionalism she made up for with enthusiasm. I guessed thisshoot could have been called, I Love Fruit, because that’swhat the girl was doing.
“Now the Bartlett, babe,” the cameraman cooedas he snapped away. “And put the strawberry up to your lips. No,your other lips.”
The next door down was a video production ofthe more vanilla variety. Guy on girl, pretty standard stuff.
Scratch that. An animal musk odor made melook closer, and I noticed a miniature donkey next to the bed.
I’d call that production, A Piece ofAss.
“You like to watch?” Hawaiian Shirt asked,leering over his shoulder.
“I’m more of a doer than a watcher,” Ianswered, hoping my grin looked real.
We passed another door, saw another videoshoot.
I’m pretty shock-proof, but my cover persona,Claire Thomas, wouldn’t be.
“Yuck.” I gave a shudder. “That’s gross.”
“Gotta keep upping the ante,” Hawaiian Shirtsaid. “We’re calling it Three Girls, One Cup. You want tojoin in?”
“No, thanks. I already ate. And I don’t wantto eat that.”
We were almost to the end of the hall when asound caught my attention. More a beat in my chest than a noise,but I recognized it immediately.
A helicopter.
Many millionaires had