by BJ Wane
“I’ve only touched upon a few aspects of BDSM. Has your curiosity been appeased, or are you still wanting to explore the lifestyle further?”
How he could calm the flustered state he was responsible for putting her in with his cool, detached voice was beyond her, but the tenseness of the past hour eased from her body as they strolled up the street. She wondered what it would be like to have that much control over her emotions. “I’m willing to… go a little further—with you,” she tacked on, just to be clear. As of right now, she couldn’t picture herself taking up with anyone else to finish driving out these unconventional urges that had plagued her for far too long.
“Then, if you can get clear of work Sunday afternoon, I’ll pick you up around 5:00 and we’ll go for a short cruise on our yacht which I’m sure the girls have mentioned.”
They reached her block, and the alley running between the shelter and the building next to it where she’d had to cover up the spray-painted graffiti. Hope started to accept his offer when a strident female cry, followed by Bobby’s voice, echoed from the far end of the alley.
“Hey! Stop!”
Miles swore with colorful profusion as he propelled her along with him toward the lot in the back. They both saw a tall, thin young man from behind, wearing a hoodie and hightailing it down another back alley as they reached the rear of the buildings. Bobby was helping Martha to her feet by the dumpsters and Hope dashed over with a cry of alarm.
“What happened? Martha, are you all right?” She got on the older woman’s other side and helped steady her as she rose from the ground.
“Damn kid came out of nowhere, poking around back here, then shoved her down before taking off,” Bobby snarled, anger swirling in his eyes as he wrapped an arm around Martha’s shoulders.
“I’m fine, you two. More surprised than hurt, and ticked off. I should’ve dumped him in the dumpster instead of the trash,” Martha said before her eyes landed on Miles, who jogged over to them after chasing after the culprit. “Oh, my. I hope you didn’t catch him, there’d be nothing left.” She grinned despite the shaken look still lingering on her face.
“I didn’t. Can you describe him?” Miles struggled to rein in his anger. The punk looked suspiciously like Mateo from the back and he should’ve known he’d been too quiet after Miles had threatened him. Hope appeared more concerned and angry than afraid, which he found himself grateful for. He wasn’t sure he could handle seeing fear reflected in those blue eyes, not after watching them glow with the pleasure he’d introduced her to.
“No, sorry. He pushed me from behind. Bobby here heard me and came running out right before you got here.”
“I’ve told you, and you,” Bobby pinned Hope with a glare, “not to come out here without me, especially after the shelter doors have been locked for the night.”
“Glad to hear I’m not the only voice of reason around here,” Miles drawled, relieved the women had someone so caring looking out for their welfare.
“Come on, Martha. Why don’t you let me drive you home…”
Miles raised his hand as they walked inside. “I’ll take her. By the time you return, it’ll be dark.”
“Absolutely not but thank you both for offering. I’m fine and I’m leaving now.” Martha hugged Hope then squeezed Bobby’s arm. “Thank you. See you tomorrow.”
“Take the day off,” Hope insisted as she unlocked the front door so Martha could reach her car out front.
“No, now good-night.”
Miles waited until Bobby went into the shelter’s main living space before asking Hope, “Sunday?”
“Yes, I could use an afternoon of sun. It’s been a long week.”
“Did it start with the covered-up graffiti I noticed in the alley?” It irritated him she hadn’t mentioned it, and the fact that it irritated him was also annoying.
She waved a hand, indicating the vandalism was no big deal. “That crap happens all the time, I’m used to it, but yes, it is annoying and why I was late.”
“You should’ve come to me when I first gave you my card. I’ll see you Sunday.” He waited until she re-locked the door behind him before wasting no time returning to the gym, asking Ed to close up then getting on his bike to go cruising for Mateo. Some things, such as the steady increase of his emotions toward Hope, were beyond his control. Others, such as tracking down a punk-ass gang member and putting the fear of God—or of himself—into him, weren’t.
Within fifteen minutes of cruising the hotspots of gang-related, late-night activity, Miles spotted Mateo and another boy attempting to jimmy a lock on the back door of an electronics store. Miles knew the elderly store owner lived in the small apartment upstairs, where he could see a light still shining, and his residual anger escalated again. Parking around the corner, he took note of the brass knuckles on the one kid’s hand and the crow bar Mateo was now using on the back door.
Mateo’s accomplice caught sight of him first and didn’t hesitate to attempt to neutralize the threat his sudden appearance made. The brass knuckles glinted in the light spilling from above the door as the kid took a swing at Miles. With a quick turn of his head, his assailant’s arm went wide, throwing him off balance. A fast kick to the back of his knees took him to the ground with a pain-filled cry just as Mateo swung his crowbar at Miles’ head. With a growl of frustration, he took the downward swing of the metal bar on his forearm but didn’t let the instant pain slow him down from executing a spin and slamming an elbow with maximum force against Mateo’s sternum. Going to his knees, the crowbar clanged against the concrete as Mateo released it on a gasp and clutched his chest.
“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Miles warned the other punk who was rising with a knife in his white-knuckled grip.
“You’re not me, asshole,” he sneered, and Miles could tell by the kid’s inflated ego and dilated eyes he was high on something.
As the kid raised his arm, Miles swore under his breath and couldn’t afford to balk at delivering a vicious chopped blow to his wrist. The knife joined the crowbar on the ground as the teen grabbed his wrist and took off like a bolt of lightning.
Shaking his head at the youth’s stupidity, he turned his full attention back on Mateo, who was still trying to catch his breath and glaring daggers at him as he stumbled to his feet. “You didn’t heed my advice, did you, Mateo?” Satisfaction rolled through Miles at the way Mateo quickly averted his gaze.
“I want my brother,” he groused, as if that had anything to do with his attempted break-in.
“Let’s chat.” With a quick spin, Miles pinned Mateo against the door he’d been vandalizing and pressed his chest against the exact spot where his kick had taken the wind out of him. He couldn’t suppress a humorless chuckle when Mateo’s curses were drowned out by the return of his wheezing. “That was a love tap compared to what I want to do to you, and what I will do the next time you go anywhere near Hope’s Crossing.”
“What… what the… fuck are you… talking about?” Mateo demanded with gasping breaths. His pitiful attempts to get loose of Miles’ grip on his shoulders proved how much the drugs he showed signs of indulging in had weakened more than just his brain cells.
“The homeless shelter, thirty minutes ago. You don’t remember knocking down a woman by the dumpster? Your brain must be more drug-addled than I thought,” Miles scorned, deliberately taunting the teen.
“I know where the shelter is and ain’t been near that place. I’ve been with… some other guys all night, so back the fuck off… what’re you doing?”
His face reddened in outrage when Miles pulled out his cell and punched in Jake’s number. “I caught you attempting a break-in red-handed and assaulting a woman, what do you think I’m doing?”
“I didn’t rough up no old lady. Can you prove I did? Besides, I’ll tell the cops you assaulted me.” He rubbed his sternum and winced. “I’ll probably have bruises to prove it.”
“No, you won’t. I’m not an amateur like you.” Jake answered on the fou
rth ring, and Miles gave him a quick rundown and location. “Then my timing’s good,” he finished when the cop said he wasn’t far. “See you in a few.” Snapping the phone shut, he released his hold and stepped back from Mateo, hoping he’d be dumb enough to try and run. He was, and Miles took great pleasure in tripping him to the dirty asphalt and pinning him face down with a foot planted on his back.
“Tsk, such language,” he admonished with a shake of his head.
“It’s his word against mine! You can’t hold me on that,” Mateo shouted as soon as Jake got out of his SUV.
Jake sauntered over to the back door, ignoring the kid’s frantic outburst while checking it out before turning back to Miles with a raised brow. Pulling out cuffs, he glanced at Mateo with casual indifference. “I can haul your ass in and keep you for twenty-four hours while checking out Cavenaugh’s side of the story.” He ran a hand through his brown hair, a gesture Miles recognized as one of frustration before Jake addressed him. “You must’ve stopped them before any damage was done.”
Frustration and anger rippled under Miles’ skin. He didn’t want to waste Jake’s time, but didn’t want Mateo walking away either. “He assaulted a volunteer at the shelter and came at me with that.” He pointed to the crowbar and knife. “His buddy wielded the knife.”
“No, I didn’t, you fuckin’ liar!”
“You’ve had a busy night away from the gym. Did you witness the other assault?” Jake asked as he hauled Mateo’s hands behind him and snapped on the cuffs.
Fisting his hands on his hips, Miles shook his head in regret. “I only saw his back, not enough to give a positive I.D.” Getting in Mateo’s face, he gave the kid one last warning in a voice gone deadly soft. “You won’t walk away a third time. Remember that and forget about your brother. He’s better off where he is than with a fuck-up like you.” He turned to Jake. “I say we ruin his evening by hauling him in anyway, but it’s up to you.”
“What the hell, I was just going to head home and relax. Let’s at least get your statement in writing to add to the record I’m sure he already has. Come on, punk, let’s go for a ride.”
It would be little recompense for Martha, but at least it was something, Miles thought as he followed. He’d just make sure he kept a closer eye on the shelter, and Hope, from now on.
Chapter 8
“Be careful getting off,” Miles warned Hope as she slid off his motorcycle with the vibrations from the powerful motor still pulsing between her legs.
It wasn’t the risk of burning her leg on the exhaust that worried her, but his reaction to her newly denuded state. If there was one thing she’d learned about Miles since this started, it was his determination to stay in control. How many times had she heard Sandie and Krista say the guys didn’t like it when they took it upon themselves to act without permission? Of course, her friends seemed to enjoy Zach’s and Dax’s retaliations, and Hope’s response this morning to the light graze of her own fingers over the bare skin of her labia had her tied up in knots anticipating Miles’ searing touch.
She’d spent the remainder of yesterday afternoon and last night cursing her so-called friends for the painful removal of her pubic hair by wax, never imagining their spa treatment would entail such discomfort. The aloe vera cream the technician gave her to take home and apply helped a lot, but relief from the throbbing burn hadn’t come until early this morning, giving her just a few hours to get used to the constant stimulating sensation of her exposed flesh rubbing against her silk panties. Hope had never imagined how much removing that barrier would enhance the sense of touch, or how sensitive that hidden skin was.
The late afternoon sun had already lowered to an amber glow on the western horizon, but the balmy temperature remained in the low eighties and hinted at a perfect evening for a cruise. That meant the shivers tightening her muscles as Miles led her down the wood-planked pier were from a combination of nerves and excitement. Since he’d been silent about the plans for this evening, other than to let her know Jackson, Julie and maybe the Carlson brothers would be joining them, that accounted for the nerves. Her excitement stemmed from the hope he would finally take this journey into his alternative sexual lifestyle another step further and give her the part of himself he’d been holding back. Given the heightened pleasure she’d already attained under his tutelage, Hope ought to be content and ready to end this. Maybe after tonight, after she’d gotten a glimpse of this BDSM decked-out yacht and had something she could share on girls’ night equal to the scenes she’d been listening to for weeks, her urges would be appeased, and life could go back to normal.
“You’re quiet this evening,” Miles commented, guiding her around scattered glass fragments from a broken bottle.
Hope tossed him a teasing grin. “You’re always quiet.”
He shrugged, but a rare hint of humor tugged at his lips. “I talk when I have something to say.” Pointing toward the largest boat still moored in a slot, he said with pride, “That’s ours.”
“Wow.” The girls’ descriptions didn’t do the three-tiered mega yacht justice. Miles helped her onto the shiny teak decking and she leaned into him to brace against the slow rocking of the large vessel. “I’m not much for the water,” she explained when he cocked his head in question.
“Let’s see if we can change that.” He waved to Jackson, whom Hope had just noticed sitting behind a glass windshield. She assumed he sat at the helm from the two plush seats in front of a dash of foreign-looking controls and steering column.
“I didn’t know he was our captain for this evening.”
“None of my friends were strangers to manning a boat, so it was a simple matter of acclimating ourselves to the size.” Miles halted at the open door to the helm and nodded at Jackson. “What’d you hear from Troy and Trevor?”
“Just Trevor can make it, but his guest backed out at the last minute.” Both men’s eyes shifted to Hope, but she couldn’t decipher what their look meant until Jackson said, with a twinkle in his eyes that belied his put-upon sigh, “I guess that means I have to suffer through watching how much Julie enjoys an extra pair of hands.”
A warm flush stole over Hope’s face as his meaning sank in and she wondered if Miles expected her to also welcome another person to join them in a scene. When she cast a swift look up at him, the only confirmation he offered was a simple statement and small shrug of those wide shoulders. “It’ll be up to you.”
“There he is now.” Jackson nodded toward the pier when he spotted Trevor headed their way then smiled at Hope. “Julie’s down in the galley, if you want to join her while I get us underway.”
“Fixing something to eat, I hope.”
Hope gave Miles a surprised look, his comment taking her mind off the mention of including Trevor. “You just downed a double cheeseburger on the way here.”
“And your point would be?”
“Where do you put it all?” She may not have had the privilege of seeing him naked yet, but she’d felt every inch of that body pressed against hers and knew there wasn’t an ounce of extra weight on him.
“I have a good metabolism.” He nodded toward the open staircase that led to the lowest deck situated just beyond the large, center enclosed space behind the helm. “Down those stairs and to the left.”
“Thanks.”
Trevor leaped aboard the yacht as Hope turned away on legs still rubbery from the choice Miles had given her about including the other man. At an inch or two over six foot, with wavy, light brown hair that matched the short whiskers giving his face a scruffy, sexy appearance, Trevor was the easy-going one of the group and had always been friendly toward her. Since Miles had yet to fuck her, the offer of including another man in whatever scene he had planned for tonight didn’t immediately appeal to Hope, regardless of his attractiveness. But, as she took the few stairs down to the lower level, she wondered if that might not be the best way to keep her focused on an end goal for this relationship, to prevent her from drawing out their agreement for
longer than would be wise if she wanted to keep both Miles and her friends from discovering she had killed her fiancé.
The bullet wound to her side sealing her exoneration in Craig’s death, was the main factor that changed the initial involuntary manslaughter charge the police wanted, after learning where she’d been just prior to returning home to an enraged fiancé, to self-defense. But her pain and suffering from Craig’s surprise attack the minute she stepped through the door hadn’t excused her actions with her parents, or later, her friends. Over the grueling weeks of questions and mortifying accusations from all sides, it had become crystal clear for the first time in Hope’s life how much stock her parents put into appearances, not to mention their plans she make a ‘good match’ when she married. Love, she’d been told when she tried explaining she’d been having second thoughts about Craig because of her lack of feelings, had nothing to do with it. And nothing, in their eyes, excused the shame she’d brought on them by getting caught going to ‘such a place’ or by having the poor manners to kill her well-known, influential fiancé during her struggle to escape his assault. We’ll never be able to hold our heads up in society after this, her mother had bemoaned for weeks afterward. Both her parents, followed by her friends, showed more concern about how her actions reflected on them, and what people in their circles would think, than about the trauma and injury she’d suffered.
Hope’s biggest fear was getting the same reaction from the new people in her life, of having to deal with probing questions that might affect her job if her actions in Atlanta became known. Was she being unfair to judge her friends because of what others had done? Given their traumas they’d had to cope with, the answer would probably be yes. That was something she would have to give more consideration to if her feelings and lust couldn’t be appeased with this short affair, something else to put on the back burner to deal with later, just not today.
“There you are.” Julie smiled at Hope as she entered the galley kitchen. “I’ve just put a casserole in the oven, but it’s still frozen so it’ll be a while. Two elderly sisters, who are regular clients of Jackson’s, like to pay him with food, and I’ve yet to taste anything that wasn’t delicious.” Leaning against the counter, Julie crossed her arms and eyed Hope with a gleam in her striking purple eyes. “So, things are going good with you and Miles?”