by Simone Sinna
“No ties,” said Zac, kissing one wrist. “Providing you stay completely still that is. Just your feet up in stirrups.”
Though the table wasn’t especially comfortable, it was a relief from standing, and she took the time to stretch. Her legs resting on the leather stirrups were comfortable enough for the time being. It meant they had total access to her exposed pussy. The thought sent shivers through her. What was she doing in a dungeon with two men? She’d never have believed it if someone had told her only a month ago. Zac from behind placed a cloth over her head, leaving her totally in the dark. “Still,” he reminded her.
It would have been impossible to do so. At least impossible for her when suddenly she felt what she presumed were ice cubes over her nipples and lips of her cunt. The contrast to her body heat was enough to clear her head. She gasped.
Zac chuckled.
Savannah gritted her teeth, seconds seeming like hours. Then as fast as the cold came so did their lips, over where the ice had been, this time Ben at her nipples and Zac between her legs, mouth hot on her clit.
They repeated the same thing three times, contrasts of hot and cold. Each time the heat brought her closer to a climax, and each time the cold pulled her back from the edge. Then on the fourth time the cold in her cunt wasn’t ice but instead something metal pushing deeper into her. She stiffened but Ben whispered to relax and enjoy, and the feeling of vibrations deep within sent off waves of excitement that had her desperate for more. Just as she was sure she would come the vibrations stopped.
“Not until we are both in you,” said Zac.
She wriggled, wanting to beg them to take her.
“Do you want us?” Ben asked.
“Yes,” she gasped.
“Not enough.”
“Yes,” she said louder.
Zac slapped her thigh, the sting hitting at the same time as the vibrations started again. “You need to really want us.”
Her hips were gyrating, muscles clamping on the vibrator.
“I really, really do want you.”
After a moment the vibrations stopped again and the device removed. Zac pulled her legs, still in the fuck-me boots, out of the stirrups and put her legs around him, then pulled her up, the cloth falling from her face. He kissed her hard. “Sit on me,” he ordered, and pulling her legs hard around his waist, arms on his shoulders, she lowered herself over his cock. He thrust hard, deep inside her, as her muscles gripped him. The feeling was pushing her closer and closer to climaxing but once again he stopped her. “Not yet,” he said, bending down a little, still in her but letting her stand on the floor. “Both of us, remember?”
Ben came up behind her. “You are amazing,” he said in wonder. “I just want to bury myself in your cunt and never leave.”
“Do you think he’d fit?” Zac whispered in her ear.
Did he mean both of them in her pussy? Savannah gulped. “I don’t know.”
“Let’s try, shall we?” Zac leant back against the table so Savannah could angle herself slightly forward. Ben didn’t wait for any more of an invitation. She felt him behind her. Felt his cock pushing against her, then suddenly he thrust and she felt him in her too. At first she thought she might tear, that it was too much, but then a wave of pleasure rippled through her. The pressures on her pelvis were different. Her pelvic muscles struggled to clamp as her mind tried to make sense of what was happening. But the feelings tripping over each other were all sending electric signals, and even though neither man was thrusting strongly, she found herself in a whirl of emotion that finally came together. Her muscles tensed and then released. Her orgasm felt like it was sucking energy from them both, that nothing could ever be as good again and that this was how she wanted her life to be always.
The men held her tight as the feeling had her in its grip. They let her come down and both kissed her, neck, shoulders, and lips. They too both moved and as they did her pelvis seemed to quiver. With their growing excitement she took a deep breath and went deep within to concentrate, to find enough energy to ride them again. Neither was going to take long. The foreplay had had them all so on the edge it was amazing one or all hadn’t come before. But as they did finally release, though the feeling for her wasn’t as intense, it finished with a sense of complete calm and contentment.
Savannah felt a long time passed before they collapsed onto the sofa, longer again until they had enough energy to find their clothes and get dressed. Not that Savannah felt exactly dressed in her outfit. The only thing that had needed to be removed had been the G-string.
When they left through the bar area, there were still several people there. The barman smiled at her. No Peyton or stubble-man. Voluptua nodded good-bye and found their coats. Savannah pulled hers around her as they exited. It wasn’t far to walk home.
But it was an eventful walk.
Passing a laneway, Ben stopped and frowned. She followed his gaze. Someone seemed to be on the ground.
“Probably just a drunk,” said Zac. “You don’t have to clean up DC streets, Ben.”
“We should check.”
Zac shrugged, telling her to stay put while they both went towards the back huddle. She watched them turn the huddle over, check for a pulse, watched Zac pull out a phone. But as they called an ambulance for the man she later was told was Peyton Foster, Savannah caught sight of a man slipping into the shadows. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought it might have been stubble-man.
Chapter Twelve
Zac took Ben and Savannah into his office with him. First they took ten minutes to check the apartment’s perimeter. A call confirmed that Peyton had a few broken bones and a ruptured spleen but that he would be all right. Savannah hadn’t liked him but he hadn’t deserved that. She thought back to what he had said to her, to stubble-man’s texting, and wondered if that was connected, and in turn if there was a connection to her Mata Hari attempt.
Getting into Zac’s office entailed a suitably impressive array of security procedures. Zac could see Savannah tense and he leant over and whispered “Tell anyone and I’ll have to punish you severely.” She glared at him. But not for long.
He called his section chiefs together and introduced Savannah and Ben.
“Okay, tell us what you’ve got.”
They were all wearing dark suits, even the woman. She glanced at the two civilians and frowned.
“It’s okay, Gloria, I can vouch for them,” said Zac.
Gloria, wearing heavy-rimmed glasses, probably more to make her look serious than anything else, stood up and straightened her jacket.
“Salvatore Mazzola, a.k.a. Sal El Massari, was initially on our ‘to be watched’ list because of his Palestinian connections. He didn’t make it higher up the list until after Berlin. He was out of the country then, supposedly in Switzerland. He was supposed to be in London at the time of the Rome bombing. He was working for Odeh’s group, left in June 1986, and went to Australia.”
“Since then?”
“Hasn’t turned up on our radar. Came into the country twice, short trips. Flew in and out of LAX.”
“Could he have been meeting with Hezekiah?”
“Don’t know, sir.” This time it was a lanky, sandy-haired, geeky guy, the youngest in the room. He stood up and nearly sent his chair flying, then paused, blushing as he set it upright. “We don’t have Tanner’s exact whereabouts on either occasion.”
“So seeing as you’re up, tell me about Tanner then.”
The geek straightened himself up. “He was on the list of people considered, though only as an outside chance, for the Odeh bombing.”
“The Jewish group were number one?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What about Robert Manning?”
The geek cleared his throat. “Well sir, we aren’t sure. Still checking. He had some tenuous Tennessee connections. And a connection with a senator at the time who worked against our involvement. We think Hezekiah was bribing him. No proof, but there was a large political donation.”
“Kane, what have you got for Todd Wilson?”
The geek sat down and a solidly built man in his early thirties stood. “Three possible IDs, sir.”
They all waited. This guy had a PowerPoint presentation. Zac figured he was aiming for a promotion.
“Number One. Brandon Jefferson.” The photo was of a man in his thirties, in uniform. Lots of medals. Brownish hair. Savannah was shaking her head. “He went to West Point then law at Yale. Hezekiah’s year. He has a brother called Todd.”
Zac saw Savannah looked harder.
“He married twice, three children with first wife.” Another photo. Was Savannah looking at her half sisters and brother? If so, they must have taken after their mother. Fair and plump.
“Anything else that could tie him to our case?”
Kane was looking less confident. “We have asked the Army for information about his whereabouts at critical times and are still waiting, sir.”
“Can we exclude him then through our databases?”
“No, sir.”
“Next.”
“Charles Pearson.” The photo was straight out of his West Point days. His hair was so close to his skull it was impossible to know what color, though probably brown or darker.
“General Pearson?”
“Yes, sir.” Another photo, more recent. It was from a newspaper article and he was receiving medals for his part in Desert Storm. Hair short and gray. War could do that to you.
“He also did law at Yale after West Point, the class behind Tanner,” Kane continued. “Then seems to have gone straight back into the army.”
“Same problem as Jefferson about subsequent whereabouts?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The last?”
“Manfred Channing.”
“Shit.” It was Ben. Both he and Savannah stared at each other and then the screen. A dark-haired man in a suit. It looked recent. Hard to tell, but it could have been the same man as in Savannah’s photo, thirty years on. Zac had given the photo over to his people to see if they could restore it, do some aging modelling, even.
Zac nodded at Kane to continue.
“Did an MBA at Yale, overlapped a year.” He added about the wife and children, things Ben had already checked out when he had thought he was taking a job with him.
“So his daughter joined up with Tanner’s group? Did she know him through her father?”
“Yes, sir.” Kane looked a little disappointed that Zac had guessed his punch line. “Channing and Tanner have some mutual business investments.”
“So just how much of an issue is it that his daughter is with Tanner?”
“My guess, sir, is not very much at all.”
“Been able to locate him anywhere critical?”
“L.A. in the ’80s, didn’t marry until 1988. We don’t have him leaving the country for the Italian or German incident, but…”
Zac raised an eyebrow and waited.
‘He’s a smart guy with connections. I think we should leave him in the equation.”
Zac nodded. He now just had to make an equation that the pieces fitted.
* * * *
Zac had told Ben to select a hotel and wall up, and sent one of his team with them to ensure they made it. Ben didn’t know DC well but he figured he’d go for a Hilton or another of the chain hotels—an upmarket one with lots of people and security. The FBI guy, the geek whose name was Ray, drove them to the first one and Ben shook his head, on the principle that if there were people still after Savannah, they’d check the hotel closest to the FBI offices after no one turned up in Zac’s apartment. He settled finally for a hotel on H Street just short of where the White House was.
Ben got out of the car and felt rather than heard the bullet. It missed his ear by no more than a half inch. He turned, saw the stubble-chinned shooter on the other side of the road half stepped out of a dark car. Ben ducked back into the FBI car, pushing Savannah’s door closed, yelling to Ray to keep driving.
Ray was a little slow. Neither he nor Savannah had heard anything and had no idea why Ben was suddenly agitated. The next bullet hit the car door, fortunately bulletproof, though Ben would rather have not found out. He figured they were aiming for the tires, which they got next. He heard the air pop as Ray hit the accelerator and they took off, swaying unevenly.
“You got a gun?”
“Yes, but I can’t give it to a civilian.”
“Jesus, Ray, we’ll be a dead FBI guy and two dead civilians if you don’t give it over. Drive back towards headquarters.”
Ray wrestled his Glock out of his holster and handed it to Ben, both hands back on the steering wheel. The car was all over the road, a wide one blessedly free of traffic. Ben yelled at Savannah to get down and hit the window button. Arm out, he let off two shots in the direction of the car that was right behind them, firing wide but with no risk of other casualties. He heard Ray yelling into his car phone or at Siri, he wasn’t sure, but Zac’s voice soon filled the car.
“Washington registration,” said Ray.
Savannah stuck her head up and yelled out the registration before Ben could shove her down again. At exactly that moment the car rammed them. Savannah screamed. Ahead Ben saw a car, this time a black SUV, coming straight at them. It was the last thing he saw.
* * * *
Savannah was dazed and at first wasn’t sure what was happening. She hadn’t seen the black SUV until two men in balaclavas were bundling her into it. She vaguely recalled Ben heading through the wind screen, and hearing two shots. Then she was being spirited away, plaster slapped on her mouth and her hands cuffed behind her. She hit her head when they threw her in the back of the SUV and the next thing she recalled was waking up stiff and still tied up. The men were in the front of the car and it was still moving. But it was no longer a black car. Somewhere they had swapped. It was still daylight but she had no idea how much time had passed. She thought of Ben, of the shots, and tears streamed down her cheeks. The crying made breathing difficult so she forced herself to stop, turned her thoughts to all of the things she would like to do to Sal if she ever got out of this. When she got out of this.
The hours passed. They were going to Tennessee, Hezekiah’s compound, she figured. Knew it was south of DC but had no idea how long by road. She hoped Zac would know they’d changed cars, that he’d presume Tennessee, if that’s where she was heading. Sun seemed to be in the wrong place but in October it was pretty low in the sky, and what did she know about directions in the States anyway?
She turned her mind to the three father candidates. It had to be Channing. Maybe he was kidnapping her to brainwash her, join his other daughter and marry into the clan? They could have killed her if they’d wanted, so there had to be a reason. Blood was thicker than water perhaps.
It was dark when they arrived, and she’d dozed off so couldn’t guess how long it had taken. But when they bundled her out, not speaking, she got the impression again that they had traveled north. They were somewhere deep in the heart of woods, the trees a spectacular array of dense deep reds and yellows. She heard Ben’s word about showing her a real New England fall and the tears started, but she blinked them back. If she was about to meet Hezekiah or Channing, she wasn’t intending to come across weak.
The farmhouse was weatherboard, maybe fifty years old, two levels and surrounded by red, high-roofed barns straight out of the farm set she had as a kid. There was a woman on the porch, hair in a long plait, staring grimly at her guests. Much her age. Channing’s daughter? Her half sister? “Put her in the back room,” she told the men. No sisterly love was evident.
The back room was barred and basic with a single bed and mattress with plenty of blankets, a bucket in the corner. The men undid her cuffs and left her there, the lock sounding after the closed the door. She recognized one of them. Stubble-man. Savannah stretched out her limbs and removed the plaster from her mouth and felt her pockets. No phone. She supposed it was smashed or back in DC. She checked out the wi
ndows and doubted the joint strength of Ben and Zac could have budged them. The door rattled, but wasn’t going to move any time soon either. She sat on the bed and waited.
* * * *
Zac had never felt so angry. His staff were tiptoeing around him like he was unstable gelignite. He had never lost an agent and had never lost a client or a family member. In one day he had nearly done all three, and to make it worse, he was well on the way to being in love with the client. His boss would have his head for so many things it’d take a day to list them. Ray was in surgery having two bullets removed. His condition was listed as critical. Ben was having his head sutured from where it had hit the windscreen. The doctors weren’t sure why he didn’t have a subdural hematoma but felt he deserved one. There was a mountain of paperwork to complete. The SUV had turned up abandoned and all the agents he had in choppers and on the road between DC and Tennessee had come up with precisely nothing.
“Kane, get in here.” He was the only one left in the office, much to his annoyance. But Zac needed his computer skills, and he was good at putting pieces in a jigsaw.
“Where would you take her if you were Hezekiah?”
“Right now? I’d like her in Tennessee if I could get her there with no one ever knowing.”
“But you wouldn’t take her there?”
“No, sir. Too obvious. In the getting there and the being busted. Even though he has a lot of firepower I don’t think this is the operation he was planning on using it for. This is something else, something that fell into his lap.”
“So where would you go?”
“He doesn’t have ready access to a private airfield so I think they’ll drive. That rules out the west coast sites. Here? He has one small place in Georgia, another in Ohio.”