Ryan's mind spun like an out-of-control carnival ride for a second. But then it was as if someone hit a switch and the flurry of activity slowed and settled into place.
He knew what he had to do.
"Any asshole with a cock and a sick mind can rape a helpless woman," Ryan told Jack stonily. "Has it ever occurred to you that the photographs would carry a bit more . ..
punch, let's say, to her lover or her minister father if the lady in question was shown to be enjoying herself instead of merely being forced?"
Jack's glance down over Ryan was disparaging while his trip back up was more assessing
. .. more cunning.
"You think that's a possibility, eh? Well, I've said you've got balls from the start. The girl's a frigid one, though, from the information I've been given."
"From assholes like Mason? Does it surprise you she'd be cold to the likes of him?"
Jack chuckled. "No, I suppose it doesn't."
"I can do it. I can entice her to respond. I'll give you what you want. You'll be happy with the photographs you get. There's just one thing. I won't be able to get her to participate to any degree if she knows she's being photographed. I can't do miracles. I doubt she'll be too interested in romance if she knows your ... business partners are watching, either,"
Ryan muttered as he gave a disparaging glance to the four scumbags dressed in gentlemen's clothing. He was just playing for time and a little privacy with Hope. If he could just have that, he'd finagle a means of escape. He had to.
"Not a problem."
Ryan started at Jack's almost nonchalant acceptance. He hadn't expected that.
He glanced over in rising wariness when a tall, thin man carrying a black box that Ryan recognized as an old-fashioned brownie snapshot camera approached the other men. He nodded his readiness at Jack.
"What'd you mean it's not a problem?" Ryan asked cautiously.
"The bedroom where the young lady awaits you is equipped with a viewing room. Some of my patrons enjoy watching the goings-on in the boudoirs at the Sweet Lash as much as participating. Miss Stillwater won't know she's being viewed through the peepholes and there's a large enough knothole for my man to take photographs."
Jack stated things so confidently that Ryan was left in little doubt he'd had plenty of experience with this sort of sordid business in the past.
"Just take me to her and make sure you and your men stay well out of the way," Ryan muttered. He was already contriving a plan for snatching Hope once the men were secreted in the "viewing room,"
having her wait while he took on the guy at the base of the stairs and commandeered his gun, then escaping this hellhole with her in tow.
He started to step away but Jack stopped him with a hand on his elbow. Ryan froze when his eyes lowered and he saw Jack pointing his SIG Sauer directly at his chest.
"This is an extremely unusual weapon that you possess, Mr. Daire," he said softly. "It's making me mighty curious about you." Jack's eyebrows went up on his doughy forehead when Ryan remained silent. "Nothing to say, son? I'd sure like to hear where you got a contraption like this."
"It's manufactured in Switzerland. Very rare."
"Is that right?" Jack murmured silkily. "Strange, that a mick from Bridgeport would own such a weapon. It looks accurate and as deadly a gun as I've ever seen in my life. I just want you to know it will be trained on you the entire time from one of the peepholes in the viewing room. If you don't do everything as agreed, I'll gladly test out this strange-looking weapon directly on your head. Big Mario will be all too glad to step in to take your place with the girl, I assure you. I've always found his methods to be most effective in the past."
Ice water streamed through Ryan's veins in a torrential rush when he glanced over to where Jack motioned with his head. Big Mario had regained consciousness. He walked into the foyer. His fierce, furious, one-eyed gaze on Ryan belied the giant's blood-smeared face and unsteady gait.
"Just take me to her," Ryan muttered stiffly. "And keep that damn photographer from flashing any photographs when she has her eyes open."
Ryan felt a grim sense of inevitability several moments later as he walked with the rest of the men down a long, gaslit hallway. Jack nodded to a closed door. Ryan opened it, lingering for a second in the entrance. He watched Jack's cronies file into the next door down the hall into the room Ryan assumed was the "viewing room." Jack closed the door behind Ryan and turned a key in the lock.
He entered warily, taking in the garish decorations, the alcove where the bed was situated
.. . the stunning, dark-haired woman that lay restrained to it.
The last time he'd seen the room it'd been in a black-and-white image, but he recognized it nevertheless. A quick glance at the wall to the left of the alcove confirmed there were plenty of peepholes cleverly concealed in the design of the wallpaper. Although he couldn't make it out without staring, one of them was obviously large enough for the lens of a camera.
He knew this for many reasons, the most important of which being that he'd seen the result of that camera's endeavors in the twenty-first century. As fate would have it, he—Ryan—had been the one in those photos along with Hope.