Drake Forever_Book Seven in the Unrestrained Series

by S. E. Lund

  LARA: Oh, God... Usually, the station would have come to me for comment or the chance to kill the story with a nice juicy payment, but I guess not.

  Lara was right. If we had known that the station had the video, we could have stopped the video from going public. Obviously, the news station felt the video would earn them much more in advertising dollars and publicity than any money I could pay them to stop its release.

  DRAKE: What is our response?

  LARA: I'm busy but I'll call you later. Take it easy, Drake. I'll take care of this. Don't stress too much, for your sake. You don't need anything else on top of what you already have on your plate. I don't want you stroking out over this.

  Again, Lara was the voice of wisdom.

  DRAKE: You're right of course. I'll shut off the television and relax. You can call me with anything you think I need to know.

  LARA: Good man. Go, and hug your baby. Kiss Kate. Sleep.

  I put my cell away and turned off the computer and the television as Lara suggested.

  "What are you doing?" Kate asked, wide-eyed.

  "I'm taking my lawyer's advice and turning off the computer and television. I don't need this," I said and went to her, my hands cupping her face, which was pale with concern. "Neither of us need this. Lara will formulate a response. You go to your studio and paint, and I'll rest while Karen takes Sophie for the afternoon. This will all soon be over and we'll be back to the way things were before all this happened."

  I kissed Kate and she closed her eyes and leaned into my arms.

  "You're right," she said softly.

  I hoped I was.

  * * *

  Kate and I ate a quiet lunch, our talk limited to our planned trip to Bahamas, to the hotel we stayed at that first weekend.

  "I want to go scuba diving again," Kate said, smiling. "This time, maybe we should buy me a proper wetsuit so we won't have any problems with overheating."

  I smiled. "I still remember how hard it made me to help you squeeze those breasts into that children's suit."

  Kate smiled, a gleam in her eyes. "Dr. Morgan, by the way you're talking about that, I might think you love me only because of my breasts and not because of my mind or heart."

  "Mind, heart, breasts," I said and reached over to stroke her cheek. "I love it all."

  "I love you, Dr. Morgan. Every inch of you."

  "Don't talk like that or I won't be able to rest this afternoon," I said. "I really should wait two weeks before we start up again."

  "I'm sorry," she said and made a mock pout. "I don't want to make it worse."

  "You could never make it worse," I said and leaned over to kiss her.

  For the next two hours, while we waited for Karen Mills to arrive, we sat on the sofa with music playing and watched Sophie play with her toys on the living room carpet. We studiously avoided talking about the video or the case. It wasn't easy. I know both our minds were trying hard to go back to both, just because it was such a big looming part of our lives, but the music did help soothe me.

  My cell rang when Kate was in the bathroom getting things ready for Karen. I checked the call display and saw that it was Dave.

  "Hey, how are you?"

  "Fine, all things considered. What's up?"

  He hesitated. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I can't delay it any longer. Three of our big funders cancelled their support today in the wake of the recent publicity. That takes a huge chunk of our revenues. We have to cancel a number of projects we had planned in the future and maybe cut short a few projects in the works right now if we can't find replacement funding."

  I sighed. "Let me guess. Fundraising hasn't been all that stellar since this all started."

  "In fact," Dave said, his voice soft. "We stopped new outreach and have focused on existing funders, to gauge their support."

  "Why did you stop new outreach?"

  "Our volunteers were getting hung up on and doors slammed in their faces at an unprecedented rate as soon as the title of the Foundation was mentioned. We had to stop sending them out. They get disheartened when they have to face that kind of rejection."

  "What the hell happened?" I rubbed my forehead, a slight headache percolating.

  "I guess that tell-all in the press about you and your father's foundation really did it. People hear Dr. Morgan and right away think of you. Even when we say you're no longer on the board of directors, the fact that you started the foundation gets in the way."

  I sighed heavily. "What percent of our funding do we still have?"

  Dave flipped some papers and then cleared his throat. "Thirty-five percent."

  "Thirty-five percent?" I was shocked. That was a lot of money lost.

  "Yes, we had to cancel about a dozen existing and future projects as a result."

  I closed my eyes. "What's your recommendation, Dave? What should I do?"

  There was a silence on the line for a moment. "I'd close it down. If you want, we can start another charity offshore that is in no way connected to you or Liam and still do the same work but you won't get the tax benefits of doing it in the US. But this way, you won't be named or involved other than as an anonymous funder."

  I sighed. "Okay. Do what you have to. I don't care about the tax benefits. I just want to carry on what my father started. Do it. I'll be anonymous but will provide the lion's share of the funding to start. I want the foundation to do the same work that my father's did. You'll be in charge."

  "Consider it done. It'll take a few months to get everything shut down at the foundation and restarted in a new charity."

  "That's fine. I have nothing but time, considering I'm not working."

  I hung up, and when Kate came back into the room, she looked so pleased that I didn't want to tell her the content of the conversation with Dave. I'd tell her later, when the time was right.

  Finally, Karen arrived and took Sophie for the afternoon.

  "We're going to walk through Central Park for some fresh air and when we get to my place, she'll have a sleep. I'll bring her back before supper."

  "Sounds good," I said and waved at Sophie when the two of them left the apartment. Kate went into the office to get a few items she needed for the painting and then she was gone as well.

  I was left alone, but try as I might, sleep eluded me. Instead, I lay on my back on the sofa and worried about the future, uncertain whether our lives would ever truly recover from this whole mess, and most of all, I was deeply saddened that I had to close the foundation. It kept my father's name alive but now, my name -- and my connection with the whole Lisa Monroe case -- had destroyed both.

  Kate

  Of course, as soon as I got to the studio, I put on my small television so I could watch the news coverage of the trial. While it was good that Drake had decided not to follow the trial anymore because of his concussion and the stress doing so would cause, I couldn't stay away. I needed to know what was being said about Drake in the press so I could know how to deal with Drake and any fallout.

  At the top of the hour, the image was displayed as the announcer went over the contents of the video, talking about how the video would seem to support Lisa Monroe's contention that she was an abused woman who had been controlled by two abusive older men.

  How could they get it so wrong?

  If anything, it was Lisa who manipulated Derek and Drake to get what she wanted. Lara had done some sleuthing about Lisa's past and family life. She wanted to be with rich older men who could provide her with the lifestyle she wanted. Her uncle was a police officer in the NYPD, but her mother had been divorced and impoverished, who traded on her beauty to find a man who would support her. Lisa wanted to find a rich man, and while she had ambitions to be a surgeon, they were more the result of her experiences with Drake than some inherent desire. She was smart enough to make it into medical school, and then be accepted into a neurosurgery residency, but her unstable mental health, her erotomania, got in the way.

  According to police reports, Lisa and
Jones kidnapped and held Derek prisoner with the idea of taking as much of his wealth as they could so they could live the way they wanted. The only thing that stopped Lisa from realizing her plan was her hatred and jealousy of me and her momentary loss of control when she struck me with the rental car. Sure, she had planned on it from the time she learned that Drake had gone to the administration about her, wanting to harm him through me, but until then, she really honestly thought she could coerce him into having a relationship with her. When she realized she couldn't she turned to plan B, which was to extort money from Derek, or worse, steal it outright and then kill him, covering up his death by making it seem he'd left the US for Singapore - which he had spoken to friends about doing anyway.

  Based on what the homicide detective told Drake, when Drake contacted Derek about Lisa, concerned about her behavior towards him and that she was mentally unstable, Derek had reconnected with Lisa out of concern for her. Lisa tried to get back together with Derek because she felt she was making no headway with Drake. She and Derek had become involved again briefly, but when Derek began having problems with her accepting their new relationship, he had tried to break up with her.

  In testimony given before his suicide, Jones said that Lisa had lured Derek out to the cabin and she and Jones kept him tied up and forced him to provide Lisa with his bank account information so she could transfer money to her accounts. When he tried to escape, Jones had fought him and that was the act that led to his death, with both of them attacking him with knives and a hammer. But she had been planning to stage his move to Singapore and had sent texts from his cell to his lawyers and accountant to that effect. She had always planned on killing him and when Derek finally realized it, he fought to save his own life but had ended up losing it instead.

  Then, when Jones flipped on her, testifying against her, she coerced him into killing himself, encouraging him to do it.

  That was the prosecutor's theory of the case, which the police detectives in charge of the case shared.

  Lisa was a psychopath.

  I sighed and switched the channel, watching a different report, my paints and canvas neglected. I had come to the studio to get away from the case and the news, but I was trapped by a terrible curiosity. I needed to know how the public would respond to the video and couldn't imagine it would be easy for Drake to overcome it. Those images of Sunita's bruised and battered thighs and calves were seared into my memory and most likely those of the public who witnessed them. The one incongruous detail was that during the beating, Sunita never cried out. The brief clip of the video I'd seen online showed her taking the caning without complaint. She had been used to it -- enough so that she kept quiet. Lara said that her former Master had trained her that if she cried out, he would strike even harder so she trained herself to be quiet and absorb the pain. She really was a masochist. To her, the pain was a reward or maybe a diversion from some deeper pain. She claimed she had been abused as a child and had become aroused by punishment.

  I cringed as I watched the cane strike again and again, surprised that the local television channel was showing it, but any sexualized body parts were blurred out as was Sunita's face. The full video was available online at the station's website. To preserve their viewer's sensitivity, the channel had elected to only show a still image from the video but probably thousands of people had watched the full video.

  “The video shows Dr. Drake Morgan, known as Master D in the BDSM community, repeatedly striking his submissive partner with a cane, leaving clear welts on her thighs and legs. His claim that he was not into pain, but into pleasure seems to be refuted by the video evidence. Dr. Morgan was not available for comment, but his lawyer insisted that this was a one-time event when he was learning his own personal limits and preferences.”

  "Dr. Morgan is what is known in the community as a gentle Dominant, more interested in bondage and dominance during sex than pain and discipline. He is more focused on his partner's pleasure -- or should I say, he was focused on that when he was an active member of the community. He is currently happily married with a beautiful wife and young daughter, both of whom were almost killed by Ms. Monroe when she struck Mrs. Morgan with her car...”

  Thank God for Lara redirecting the focus onto Lisa's proven guilt in the attack on me.

  I was worried it wouldn't be enough to divert focus from Drake onto Lisa's and Jones's horrific murder of Derek. People were always drawn to the more salacious sexual gossip and details. The nuances of BDSM preferences and the difference between being a gentle Dominant like Drake versus a sadist was often lost.

  When the news report was finally done, and seeing nothing else about the case, I turned off the television and put on some soothing music instead. Then, I tried to focus on my canvas, but it was difficult with images of Sunita's bruised thighs stuck in my mind...

  * * *

  For the next hour, I managed to resist the temptation to turn on the television and see what else the stations were saying about Drake. I did get some decent work done on my painting, and was feeling much more relaxed. Of course, it was at that precise moment that my cell rang. I should have put it on do not disturb so that I wouldn't get interrupted but I was always afraid something bad would happen to Sophie and I wouldn't know about it until too late. So I heard the cell ring and felt I couldn't ignore it.

  It was Dawn.

  "Kate," she said, her voice sounding so sympathetic. "I was just watching the news and saw that video. I'm so sorry."

  "Thanks," I said, rubbing my brow. "It's the last thing we needed. More bad publicity about Drake's past. He's already sacrificed so much."

  "He has."

  I was surprised that Dawn had called and was offering up some sympathy. She had come around on the whole issue of BDSM since dating Kurt, but still, I felt uncomfortable talking to her about my personal life. There was a part of me that couldn't forgive her for being so judgmental of my interest in Drake and BDSM.

  We spoke briefly about the case, and she asked if I'd be up for lunch.

  "I don't know," I said and scratched my head, trying to think of a good excuse to say no. "Drake was attacked and is recovering from a concussion. I don't like to leave him alone with Sophie until he's all better. Maybe once he's recovered completely, I'll give you a call."

  "That's great," she said, and I cringed inwardly at the sound of hope in her voice. She really did want to reconnect, but I was still unconvinced.

  "Look, Kate, I know you're still upset about everything between us," she said, her voice sounding emotional. "Believe me, I wish I could take it all back, but I can't. What I can do is apologize and show you that I can still be a good friend, when you need one. I'll leave it up to you, but I wanted to call and at least offer my sympathy for what you're going through."

  "Thanks," I said and my heart truly did feel softened a little at her admission. "I appreciate it."

  We said goodbye and I put my cell away, sighing, still wishing that we were the kind of friends we'd been before I met Drake. But we weren't. Both of us had gone in different directions and the bad feelings between us had only made the gulf between us even deeper. Thing was, I had no female friends. The closest was Lara, and she seemed to treat me like I was a little sister, rather than a real friend or equal.

  Then, a knock came to my door. I went to open it and saw a young woman standing outside. She looked like one of Jules's friends -- long red hair in braids, a scarf tied around her forehead, wearing a short jean skirt, leggings and Doc Martens. Her nose ring and tattoo on her neck made her look like the coolest girl in school next to me, who was an older motherly type dressed in casual gym clothes.

  "Hey," she said and pointed to the main room. "We're brewing some fresh fair trade organic coffee in case you want some. I made some brownies." She smiled and held out a plate of deep dark chocolate brownies with pecans sprinkled on top.

  "Those aren't infused with pot or anything, are they?" I asked dubiously, bending down to peer at them a little more closely
.

  "Oh, no, they're just chocolate. No CBD or THC in these babies."

  "Thanks," I said and picked one off the plate and took one of the square napkins she held out in the other hand. "I'd love one."

  "Come join us for some coffee. No pot in it either, in case you're worried."

  I laughed and followed her into the main room, where Jules and another guy, tall and lanky with long black hair pulled back into a ponytail stood admiring one of the sculptures Jules was working on. For the next fifteen minutes, I felt like a completely ordinary artist communing with others of my tribe and not a submissive whose Dom husband was going to testify in a murder trial, where the accused was a former sex partner and who was currently the star of a viral pornographic violent sex video on the net.

  It felt nice for a change...

  When I was finished with my brownie and had inspected Jules's latest work, listening to him talk about its meaning, I said my goodbyes and made my way back to my studio space. Before I could close the door, I noticed that Jules had followed me and was standing there, a strange expression on his face.

  "Yes?" I asked, suspecting he wanted to talk about the news reports on Drake.

  Of course, I was right.

  "Um, I just wanted to say that I saw that video of your husband and I wanted you to know you have my full support."

  I made a face but tried to smile. "That's nice," I said. "Your support for what?"

  "You know, for you standing by him and all. It must be hard to see that kind of thing on the internet and on the news. People don't understand and get all freaked out when it comes to anything different to do with sexuality. Americans are obsessed with sex but at the same time are prudes."

  I smiled awkwardly, not sure what to say. "Thanks again," I said.

  "If you ever want to talk, feel free. I'm a good listener and I don't judge."

  I nodded. "I will."

  Then, he finally turned and ambled back to the main studio space and his current sculpture.