Free The Blackmail Club by David Bishop Page A

off since about noon, just as it had the night he and Rachel had finished furnishing the office.
    That night he had taken a seat on this same leather couch, waiting while Rachel put the finishing touches on her own office. Instead, she had surprised him by changing into a short, tight dress, nylons and red heels.
    He looked up and in his mind saw her leaning against his doorway, just as she had that night. Her lips curved into a delightfully wicked smile.
    “Time for us to christen the place,” she had said, holding up a bottle of Dom Perignon, the wet from the ice bucket dripping off its bottom.
    His memory watched her hips as she came toward him, and the desire revisited his core. She handed him the bottle and set the glasses on the table that fronted the couch, her wide stance stretching her black dress taut across her thighs.
    Jack’s hands twitched as his mind relived tearing at the foil and twisting the wire to expose the cork. His eyes saw what they had seen that night.
    Rachel’s arms had moved to the back of her neck where her dress fastened. It slipped around her hips and dropped to the floor. She again stood before him wearing only the red heels and a black teddy. A low growl escaped him. She had always had the uncanny ability to make him feel like no woman ever had, like she had been molded especially for him.
    At that moment, the cork had come free. The champagne had frothed over the neck and ran down its glass shape. Rachel took the bottle from his hand and licked the foam, her tongue darting into the bottle.
    “Now that we’re married, you don’t have any objection to my seducing you in our office, do you, Mr. McCall?” Her words echoed in his mind.
    “None whatsoever, Mrs. McCall,” Jack said out loud, recalling his own words.
    Jack’s mind let him hear the snaps pop free as Rachel reached down and freed the crotch of her teddy.
    After they had finished what Rachel often called Good and Plenty , they had sat without concern for the rest of the world, drank champagne, and watched the late rain dance within the ambient light of the night.
    Jack turned his focus to the raindrops beating a silent rhythm against the pane, each drop joining with others to form ribbons and race to the sill. He felt Rachel leaning into him again, the tufts of her hair, still moist from their passion, settling against his neck.
    The memory was so sensual that Jack reached up and touched the spot.

Chapter 13
     
    The next morning, Jack’s neck felt spray-starched, a leftover from sleeping with his head on the arm of his office couch. He went home and slept two more hours. Then, after a light lunch, he called Agnes Fuller to report that the man following her the last few days was involved in the security clearance for her State department job.
    “Thank you so much, Mr. McCall. Last night, after Mr. Drummond told me there were no listening devices or cameras in my home, I slept like a baby. He said you wanted to talk with me further. I’m off today. If you don’t mind doing it on a Saturday, I can be in your office in two hours. Say four-thirty?”
    “That would be fine. Come upstairs this time.”
    At four that afternoon, Jack arrived at MI to find Nora already there.
    “I got so busy getting ready for the party last night,” she said, “I forgot to tell you that I checked Donny Andujar’s liquor and business licenses. He’s the only owner of record. On his application he put down the money for his club came from gambling winnings that he claimed he reported as income. I called a friend at the Tax and Revenue Office. It checks. He covered his story.”
    Before they could discuss much of anything further, Agnes Fuller walked in; she was a few minutes early. Jack led her back to their conference room, took a seat directly across from her, and cut right to the chase.
    “Sarah believes Chris was being blackmailed,” he said. “We think she’s right. It’s also possible that a few of Chris’s patients may have also