Den of Seduction

By Christy Poff

For Mallory Jensen, life is not what she ever expected it to be, as she is trapped in marriage to an older man who has secrets she does not want to learn. When she finds a man nearly dead in one of the pastures, she begins to keep her own secrets. Mason Calhoun escapes a Mexican drug cartel only to end up on a ranch in Texas, one deep in the crimes he's been investigating. There, a gorgeous woman invites him into her den of seduction for an evening of unbridled passion. Will they ever share such passion again? Or will their den of seduction become nothing but a memory?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Torrid Books
• Release date: May 1, 2011
• ISBN: 9781611601015

Book preview

Prologue

Mason Calhoun looked out at the rainy day swatting yet another fly. He’d been in a Mexican prison waiting for the day when he could finally escape and get back across the border. A year had passed and each day not only seemed longer but worse.

Calhoun had been working on a joint operation between the United States, Canada and Great Britain trying to break the drug cartels that had been menacing the US/Mexican border for years. While the American goal seemed extremely obvious, the Canadian involvement surprised people when they heard. Their philosophy—if it makes it across the border into our southern neighbor, what’s to stop it from continuing its way into Canada? Great Britain knew if it made it to Canada, it would find a way across the ocean to their shores—the international drug trade never at a loss for business. That coupled with the immigration problem made their jobs worse all the way around.

He and several others had posed as interested parties in furthering the cartels’ interests worldwide. When they flew to Mexico to make a deal with the one cartel, they met at a cantina in Ciudad Juarez. From there, they took a dusty ride into the Mexican desert where their host exposed them as agents for the international justice system.

That had been a year ago. Since that day, he’d lost the designer suit he’d worn and had been forced to wear green work clothes—the kind the gardener at his father’s estate wore. The clothes reflected the wear of a year’s worth of rain, dust storms, heat and abuse. Several of the men with him the day of their abduction had already died—their hosts paying attention to one of them at a time. So far, Calhoun had been lucky—if his existence could be called that.

His styled hair and good looks had changed—his hair long, a beard in place where there had been none before. To see him now as opposed to twelve months earlier, his own mother wouldn’t recognize him.

Every day, he looked for a way out.

Running his hand through his long hair then rubbing his beard, he watched and took note of the comings and goings of the camp. Finally, after he remained the only one left of their group, he made the decision to leave. All he had to do—be patient.

* * * *

The time came and Calhoun took it. A heavy downpour coupled with thunderstorms and high winds rolled through the area. While the guards and other enemies languished in warm, dry barracks, he and two others—guests from subsequent tries at breaking this one cartel—suffered in a leaky, bug-infested shack.

Unsure about them, Calhoun had kept his plotting to himself. As the storm increased in intensity, so did his plans.

The time had come.

Going to the door, he watched the completion of the midnight rounds, the guard hurrying to where the others waited for him—their nightly poker game in progress, more than likely. As soon as the man disappeared, Calhoun slowly opened the door and peered out.

Wait, what are you doing? a voice said.

Leaving—it’s been too fucking long and I know the way they work. I don’t have much longer if I stay here.

But what about the prisoner exchange?

Is that what they told you?

Yes, they...

Then you keep waiting for it and I hope you get it. In the past year or so, I’ve watched three others who came in here with me go to their deaths. No one can be sure but we figured our hosts have been using us as lab rats. I’m no one’s guinea pig.

Then if you go, I’m coming with you, Calhoun.

Fine but once we clear a safe line away from here, you’re on your own.

Look, I understand you’re bitter but two of us stand a better chance than one on their own.

And two can also get one or both killed.

I’m willing to take that chance, my friend.

What about him?

We came in together but I have no clue who he is. He could be a plant for all I know.

By the way, just who the hell are you?

Jack Barrett, United States Border Patrol.

How do you know me?

I sat in on a briefing before you and the others came down here. I’d know those piercing eyes of yours anywhere.

I’m ready to go...

So am I...

And him?

He’ll wake in the morning with a headache. I hit him earlier during a thunder clap. If he’s one of ours...

Good move, Calhoun said. Let’s get out of here.

The two men eased from the building—if it could be called that—and carefully made their way along the front of it to a tree. Using it as a shield during a flash of lightning, they ran in the darkness until they made their way past the gate to freedom. Staying near anything that would shield them or provide some cover, they kept moving until they could no longer continue.

Finding a rundown shack that struck Calhoun as being a step above their previous accommodations, they went inside and quickly checked it for any unfriendly types. Finding it abandoned, Calhoun checked it out while Jackson watched for any company.

Calhoun found some canned food but didn’t trust it enough to risk his life. Trying the water, he turned the spigot on hearing only air.

Nobody’s been here for a long while. There’s canned food but I wouldn’t trust it and there’s no running water.

How long do we stay here until we try moving?

Not long, Calhoun said. I want to get as close to the border as possible. There’s got to be some place where we can slip out of sight for a siesta.

How far in is this camp they took us to?

Good question—my group got taken just south of Ciudad Juarez.

Not good, Jackson said.

Why? What did I miss?

There’s been a lot of gang activity in that area the authorities are attributing to cartel influence. I read about one random attack at a wedding reception—a lot of the wedding guests including the groom died.

Why the violence?

Despite what the president wants to do to stop the drug trafficking, the cartels are not giving up. Reports have them using the gangs to cause upset, seek revenge, strike fear—anything to keep them in power so they stay in business.

But...

With the immigration laws, a lot of the gangs are using those running north as mules—women, teens... They think they’ll get across easier than some of the men.

How many of the women are young and gorgeous?

"A lot of them and then the guys they go to spread them out throughout the country. Besides muling the drugs, they end up owing their benefactors money for the trip meaning..."

They’re being whored out paying back a loan they can’t repay.

Exactly—you should see some of the horror stories coming out of the major cities up north.

And they wonder why Canada’s concerned.

I just don’t understand why we can’t show strength along our borders like everywhere else.

You and me both. If you find the answer to that one, let me know.

Jackson snickered, both knowing the answer would never come. Drugs had been big business for a long time and would continue to be as long as money ruled.

One question, Calhoun...

What?

Are you all right?

I’ve been better though I’ll let you know once we reach the border and get back into the United States.

Amen to that.

Calhoun got some rest while Jackson took the first watch. Lying down on a cot that had definitely seen better days, he put his arms behind his head and tried to get comfortable. An hour later, Jackson woke him.

We’d better get going. I can hear Jeeps nearby. They may be searching for us...

Mason Calhoun nodded as he sat up. Five minutes later, they left the house heading—they hoped—to the border and safety. I will not be put in prison again—ever!

* * * *

Calhoun and Jackson had been traveling for hours. As dawn broke, it became apparent that they had been heading north but not where they first aimed for. If we’re heading into sunup then we’re definitely veering away from the point that would get us into El Paso or maybe into New Mexico.

Any idea where the hell we might be? Calhoun asked.

Your guess is as good as mine. Do you remember how long it took you to travel from your meeting in that area to where we’ve just escaped from?

It’s been a year, maybe longer, Calhoun answered. I’m lucky I remember my name. What about you?

Once they made sure I couldn’t escape, one of the guards pulled a hood over my head then the lights went out. If I remember right, I came to the next day.

We’re a good pair, aren’t we?

They made sure to screw with our minds and what’s their favorite tool? Disorientation and we are definitely there on that.

Disoriented or not, we’ve got to keep moving until the heat wins out.

Taking off again, they tried to alter their direction hoping they’d wind up at a border crossing or a highway leading to a large border city—El Paso being Calhoun’s preference. Right now, I want out of this damned country...

Near noon, they waited while the heat of the day took control and the lazy afternoon siestas began. Barrett left Calhoun long enough to get them some food and hats. He returned with an armful of things surprising Calhoun though he had no intention of asking Barrett anything.

Here, Barrett said. I guessed sizes so...

I’m not asking, Calhoun said.

I grew up in West Philadelphia and even though my parents had money, I needed kicks so me and several pals would go and snatch things.

I take it you never got caught, Calhoun observed.

We nearly got shot by one woman who had been declared legally blind. Other than that, no...

Moments later, they’d changed and discarded the clothes they’d been wearing for months, Calhoun relieved. While they ate, they tried to gain their bearings then made a decision as to how they would proceed from this point on.

Right now, I don’t care which way we go as long as we get back to the States.

Same here, Barrett said. Let me see if I can learn anything.

Be careful, Calhoun warned. We can’t be sure who is...

Trust me, I won’t get caught and then we’re out of here. I haven’t been down here as long as you have but the short time I have been told me a little of how you feel. There is no way I am going to let them take you back there. Besides, how would it look on my resume if I let a legend down?

I’m no legend...

One of my instructors wove one of his classes around how Mason Calhoun would do things.

Let me guess...Professor May?

Yeah, how did you know?

When he taught me, he based everything on what a certain Texas Ranger would do. I finally met the man and talking with him totally changed my view on law enforcement.

Who?

Ty Devlin. From what I hear, he’s retired now because of what the job did to his personal life though he teaches and consults.

He’s been called in on several cases because of his expertise. The man is fucking amazing, Barrett said.

He’s my role model. May made sure we only learned how to do it the legendary way. I’m glad he didn’t change but using me—I’m not such a good example anymore.

Don’t sell yourself short. From what I can gather, even the best get shafted. I’ve heard Devlin got it once or twice, too.

He did but he and his partner had a way about them and the way they handled situations that’s second to none. I always equated him to a modern day John Wayne—take no shit and get the job done.

Amen, Barrett said. Stay here and rest—I’ll be back in a few minutes.

Calhoun nodded then settled into the shade, pulled the ball cap down to cover his eyes and closed them—his first full day of freedom in over a year coming to an end. God, it feels so bloody good.

* * * *

Barrett returned in an hour, Calhoun praying he had not been recaptured. Surely by now, their departure had been discovered and their captors had begun searching for them. Let’s face it, we know too damned much...or do we?

Relieved to see him, Calhoun listened to what he’d learned—his interest piqued.

From what I heard, if we keep heading east, we’ll be able to cross the river at Fort Hancock. Once there, we can contact the Patrol and hopefully, get out of here without too much problem.

Good but I tend to remain cautiously optimistic. We’re not out of the woods yet on this one.

True but my mother’s told me I’m hopeless when it comes to optimism, Barrett said. God, I can’t wait to see her and tell her I’m all right.

I had a girlfriend—she’s probably moved on by now.

I’m sorry to hear that.

No big deal—I figured it would happen sooner or later. She had started to have trouble handling the job since the gang activity increased. She’d have fits if I got an assignment down here. I guess this bore out her fears.

Then she’s not the right woman for you. It’s one of the reasons I’ve never settled into a relationship.

Calhoun nodded in agreement. If Tracey had had her way, he’d be in some desk job and unhappy—alive but hating being trapped in an office. Oh, well, maybe she’ll have better luck...

When the chance arose, both men blended in with a crowd and hopped onto a bus Barrett had been told would take them to the Mexican side of the bridge at El Porvenir in Chihuahua. Once there, they planned to make their way across the bridge to Texas. Sitting in the rear of the bus, they watched everything going on around them—inside and out.

* * * *

As the bus neared El Porvenir, a small group of highly armed men stopped it. Seeing what went on ahead of them, Calhoun and Barrett decided now would be the time to practice the dreaded bus drill and quickly jumped from the rear of it. As soon as they hit the ground, they broke into a run heading for what looked like the street leading to the bridge.

Gunfire broke out changing their minds. This sent them into the Rio Grande, both now fighting the rough waters of the river as well as dodging numerous bullets aimed at them. An excellent swimmer—at least he’d once been—Calhoun dove under the surface and tried swimming as far as he could before he’d have to come up for a breath. Doing so, he found he had not been able to swim farther than the bullets sailed as one hit him in the side.

Feeling the heat of the bullet as it buried itself inside his body, Calhoun did his best to ignore it and went underwater again. One way or another, he would make it to the American side of the river. The next time he broke the surface, he quickly looked around to see where he’d made it to plus he needed to find out where Barrett might be.

Hearing yelling from the Mexican side of the river, he ignored it and the gunshots meant to stop him only they fell short of the mark. Thank God for small blessings...

Out of reach of enemy fire, Calhoun swam a normal stroke pacing himself in order to make the remainder of the crossing. Once he did a short while later, he pulled himself up on the shore and spent a few moments catching his breath while hoping Barrett would surface nearby. After nearly half an hour—he assumed—Calhoun did the only thing he could do and began to make his way to any place where he could safely make a phone call.

When he stood, he took a last look around him realizing that while he’d been fighting the current, the Rio Grande had taken him downriver a ways from the bridge. Cursing to himself, he continued on not wanting to stop. Making his way to a road, he walked along the side of it until he heard the sound of a helicopter’s rotors above him.

Unable to see who hovered over the area, he ducked into the brush and went further into a treeline that evidently separated the highway from the property he now found himself on. Waiting in the safety of the trees, he watched until the aircraft’s crew apparently lost interest and flew off. Breathing a sigh of relief, Calhoun decided to wait until after sunset before continuing on.

Looking out, he discovered the lights of a huge house in the near distance meaning he’d stumbled onto one of the many ranches that dotted Texas, most having thousands of acres of land. It didn’t matter as long as he got help.

Taking another chance, he headed toward the lights hoping for the best. As he made his way, he did his best to ignore the pain in his side. Continuing on, he could feel the bullet push its way deeper into his body. The further it went, the more he bled meaning he had to not only stem the bleeding but he had to push on if he intended to get to safety and much-needed medical attention.

As a breeze blew over the pasture he tried to cross and he felt the dampness of the evening dew, Mason Calhoun continued to push forward. A myriad of sensations and emotions worked on him, Calhoun becoming disoriented. He knew the bullet had started to get the upper hand on his life but he determined to overcome the odds.

After several more steps, Mason Calhoun collapsed, his hand on the bullet wound as he desperately tried to stop the bleeding. Laying in the moonlight, he lapsed off wondering if and when he’d ever be found. Please...

* * * *

Mallory Jensen, wife of multimillionaire businessman Paul Jensen, took her morning ride as she did every day. One of her husband’s groomsmen saddled Arsdale for her and she left the stables. Her normal routine, she enjoyed the time she spent with her white stallion before she started her day—Mallory and Arsdale proved to be sheer perfection and what she needed to keep her sanity.

Her cell phone rang, the ring tone telling that her husband wanted to speak with her.

Yes, Paul?

Good morning, Mallory, her husband said. Out for your morning ride?

Of course, she answered as she inwardly groaned.

Paul Jensen, her husband and thirty years her senior, always called her in the morning with the same question knowing the answer. Mallory hated that he felt the need to check up on her this way but it had been ongoing for years and she could see no way out.

He’d married her when she turned eighteen just after her parents had died in a car crash.

I want to protect you...

He’d somehow convinced her to marry a man old enough to be her father—in fact, one of her father’s friends—and she did. After the first three years of marriage, she’d begun to regret her decision. At twenty-three, she felt trapped. When most of her friends languished in college and enjoyed partying and having fun, she’d become what she considered a trophy wife—she made him look good while boosting his ego. Now, the only thing she wanted—to be left alone to live her life as she wanted. Yeah, and the Cubs will win the World Series—not a snowball’s chance in hell.

You’ll be back in time for our luncheon with Louis Shedwick? he asked though it didn’t sound like a question.

If I must...

I want you there, he said.

I don’t like him. He can’t be trusted.

Mallory, that’s none of your concern. We are working on a deal which will make me more money that I can spend on you.

Paul, I’ve told you—if you really want to make me happy, pay for my tuition. I want to go to college and have something to fall back on in case anything happens to you.

Nothing will and besides, you’ll be very well off. I wouldn’t worry about it...

Groaning, she looked at the sky rolling her eyes.

Paul, I need to do something with my life.

I don’t think you do.

That’s just it, she said. If you don’t believe something, it’s not real to you. What are you afraid of?

Nothing, he said. I just think you are acting...

...like a child? Why not? You’ve been treating me like you’re my father instead of my husband.

I’m sorry—I don’t mean to. I guess I’m being overprotective.

A little...

Shedwick will be here at one—I expect you...

Paul, I understand my place, she said as she hung up—furious and frustrated. Why me...

Paul Jensen had supported her when her parents died in an auto accident on the same road that went between the ranch and the Rio Grande. Older by nearly thirty years, he had longer hair that now had silvery tints to it and dressed impeccably. At first, she’d welcomed his entry into her life but as time went on, she realized what a huge mistake she’d made. Her husband had become involved in something she wanted no part of yet she knew if he lost then she would too. Damn him!

As she rode further toward the outer pasture, she noticed something on the grass. As far as she could remember, this part of the ranch had been relatively rock free unlike several of the other pastures. It had been decided to let this side of the ranch rest, meaning that all the livestock grazed on the other ones so the land could recover, so to speak. As she neared the strange object, she gasped.

Dismounting, she ran over to the man’s body while calling the main house to advise them. Knowing Paul’s need for privacy, she didn’t dare call for emergency services—that would only piss him off more on top of her hanging up on him.

Mallory, what the hell is wrong with you? Paul asked when he answered the phone.

I’ve got a man here who needs emergency medical help.

Where are you?

The far pasture by the road. Hurry, he’s lost a lot of blood.

Stay with him and don’t say a word to anyone.

Mallory put her phone in her back pocket and turned her full attention to the man lying on his side. Gingerly touching the man’s neck, she found he had a weak pulse. Afraid to move him anymore, she stepped over him and gazed at him.

If you can hear me...

Chapter 1

A year