Unbound; The Dominator III

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Unbound; The Dominator III Page 3

by DD Prince


  I was just going to focus on what was in front of me and leave it to Dare. If I still was lucky enough to be his and didn’t have what I had in him, I’d never know about my sister anyway, because we’d never have delved into my other life, life before Thailand. I had to remember that and just put one foot in front of the other.

  We had a honeymoon to go on. And I decided to leave it up to him if we would still do that. He told me he was going to find out about my sister for me and that in the meantime he wanted to make me happy. I was so lucky to have him. I’d never forget all he’d done for me. I wanted to make him happy, give him babies, make him laugh, be everything he needed.

  “I know you won’t be able to put her totally out of your mind. I want you to just be what you need to be. Okay? Do you want to go on this trip? Or would you rather stay here while I figure this out?”

  “I want to go on our honeymoon. I want to live while we figure this out. Is it selfish of me?”

  I was weak and selfish and stupidly naïve. I had to be. I couldn’t do anything else right now; common sense would destroy me, completely obliterate me.

  “What would she want for you? What did you want for her while you were there?”

  I took a deep breath. He was right. She’d want me to live. She’d want me to enjoy my new life, my new husband, after all I’d been through. I couldn’t forget her but I’d try to live like she wanted me to live.

  “I’ll have people work on this. I’ve already got them on it. We’ll find out what happened, okay? And if she’s somewhere where we need to rescue her, that’s what we’ll do. If she’s safe and sound, we’ll find a way to safely connect. Keep our cover until that fuckin’ place is nothin’ but a distant memory for us.”

  I prayed that rescue wasn’t what would need to happen but I had to compartmentalize Holly right now until we knew more. If not, I’d wind up in the loony bin. And the loony bin, which might not be a bad idea for me, wasn’t an option because Kruna still existed and if they found out, the entire Ferrano family would be in danger. I was now lucky enough to be part of the Ferrano family. I would never ever want to put any of them in danger.

  He wanted to take me to Italy and Iceland for our honeymoon. Dare wanted me to meet his mother and he wanted me to meet his Icelandic family, too.

  I knew that despite my need to tuck her away somewhere safe in the back of my mind, Holly would creep into my thoughts until we found out what’d happened. It would take major effort to stop myself from obsessing.

  I said a silent prayer that Mr. Frost and the others at Kruna had kept their promise to me and let her go and that she’d somehow made it to Charlie and Betsy.

  I tried to ignore the nagging voice that told me that they were liars, that they were sick and sadistic human traffickers who would sell a gorgeous platinum blonde-haired blue-eyed teenaged beauty’s virginity to the highest bidder.

  I talked to Lisa before we left for our honeymoon and she told me I was doing the right thing. I needed to live right here and right now. She told me to trust my husband when he said he’d find out about Holly.

  “These guys, they have connections,” Lisa said, “Tom spent years building a network of people he could go to for any type of problem. Dare will find out what happened to her. It might not be good news, you have to be braced for that, but you’ll get answers somehow.”

  She was doing well, on the road to healing. She impressed me. I decided to be motivated by how together she seemed. She told me that the retreat she’d gone on had helped. She’d had counseling. She’d talked about what’d happened to her. She knew it was dangerous but felt she had no choice but to do it. So that she could move forward.

  “I owe it to the people behind. You know? The ones still there, still trying to make it through every day.”

  “The ones working on their A to B plan.”

  Lisa tilted her head, “A to B?”

  I explained my initial plan and told her that she’d inspired it.

  And then I told her my story, how I’d found myself at Kruna. It wasn’t easy to tell that story. I felt like any moment they could burst in and take us back. But she was incredibly supportive.

  “I saw him,” she said after I was finished telling my tale.

  “Saw who?”

  “Jason Frost.”

  “At Kruna?” I asked.

  “Of course at Kruna, he’d practically lived there before I left for the U.S. I’ve had the pleasure, if you get my drift. I mean at the retreat. I saw him in passing in a hallway when I was first being deposed. I guess they had him at the same facility. He’s might still be in protective custody there.”

  I shuddered at the memory of Jason, at how messed up things were at the horse barn when we’d talked before guys from Interpol swooped in and took him. When Dare found out about the task force and Zack’s ulterior motives.

  Thank God Jason hadn’t been able to purchase me after Donavan Frost died. Thank God.

  Dare

  Stan Smith got ahold of me a couple days after our wedding to tell me that the Kruna partner summit had been rescheduled and it was happening in a few weeks, leaving us a little time to take the extended honeymoon I wanted to take. I would’ve said no; I would’ve sent Stan. I fuckin’ wanted to say no. But, the bullshit with Zack and that task force wouldn’t make that easy.

  Zack said they needed me to go gather more information for them. They wanted me to take my wife. I did not want to take her. I’d promised her they’d never hurt her again and the very concept of setting foot on that property would hurt her. It made me fuckin’ sick, the thought of making her lie her head there.

  It also made me wanna go with all the fire power I could gather, even if it took every last dime I had, so I could get in there and just take the fuckers down.

  She needed time to heal from all she’d been through. She should be able to do that, knowing that as my wife that shit would never touch her again.

  She should be able to focus on trying to get pregnant. That was all she seemed to want right now, as evidenced by her wedding gift to me (removing her IUD), and I really wanted to honeymoon with her, take her on a vacation, give her reasons to smile, not to mention continuing to work on the baby-making.

  But, she also had to face that her sister was missing and I knew she’d torment herself with that knowledge unless I took the lead and was strong for her. So, that’s what I would do.

  She was trying to paint on a smile for me. I decided I’d give us a short honeymoon to help her have something else to focus on, and then when we got back, we’d talk about Kruna. And see where things were at with Holly, unless it was good news, because Angel needed blissful ignorance where Holly was concerned right now.

  Zack told Tommy and I, on a conference call, that leads were now pointing more and more towards Alessandro Romero, but he wasn’t 100% sure yet, where she’d been sent after that. This was her last suspected location.

  This did not sit well. Based on Zack’s initial intel, Tommy had first called his cartel contact, the one who helped Tommy take down Juan Carlos Castillo, because it looked like he’d gotten Holly and that she’d gone to a brothel that was partly owned by Delgado, one of the Kruna partners.

  When we got that initial intel from Zack, it was promising because if she was still alive, there was a good chance they would help us get her back. The cartel leader and his top men had a relationship with my brother and if Holly was alive, they’d help us move mountains to broker a deal so that whoever had her would sell her back to us. And they’d do it behind a mask to stop Delgado from finding out. Or, if we were at risk of being made by Delgado, we’d find a way to take him out.

  But, we found out that they a deal had been made with Alessandro Romero for some girls, the timing matching up, and it was looking like Holly Mooney might have been a part of that deal. Young blonde virgin acquired through contacts of Delgado gets bounced a couple times until people lose track of her.

  The young underage blonde who was said to be co
ming from the north (she was marked as having come from Northern Canada) had been added to a shipment of girls and we tracked every girl but the blonde underage one. She vanished.

  The odds of someone like that winding up with Angel’s sister? Unfortunately, the seedy underworlds our Pop operated in was incestuous that way and there were multiple criminal organizations linked with the partners of Kruna.

  Her ending up with a guy who had plenty of reasons to hate us? Not good news for us.

  If he had gotten ahold of her, she might now be anywhere. Or nowhere. And even if she was still alive, if he found out her sister was married to the guy who blew up his brother Jesse by booby trapping my safe house and leading him there? It might not go well for Holly. Or me.

  The fact that Romero was doing business with the people who had taken over his uncle’s territory during a time when the rivalry had been very much alive was valuable information and it might work to our advantage.

  That brewing hatred was one of the reasons that other cartel helped my brother take out Juan Carlos Castillo. Things were very political in Mexico and we were still fact-finding. I was glad Angel wasn’t demanding to be kept up to date on every detail. This would be a roller coaster for her emotions and the information was trickling slower than molasses uphill.

  Tommy

  Las Vegas

  “Leo’s been flying’ low, man, mostly under the radar. I don’t trust it,” Johnny told me, lighting a cigar.

  “He’s not flyin’ low,” I corrected, “Not even a little bit.”

  We were in a quiet corner, in a VIP booth at Goldberg’s titty bar, after getting back from checking progress on the new space. Fete was ready. It was looking good, too.

  The new club would consist of a larger theater, experience and VIP rooms, theme rooms for observation or for play, and a swanky cocktail lounge for people in the kink community to meet.

  Some of those VIP rooms were going to be experience rooms where women or men could pay to be dominated by a professional Dom or Domme or to dominate professional submissives for hire.

  They could sign up for orgy participation, be placed in a cage blindfolded to be used by others, they could be strapped onto a Sybian, either alone or in a display room, be on either end of a glory hole, the list went on. People could order their fantasy and pay through the nose for the experience. It was like Fantasy Island, the kinky version. And Ben Goldberg was Mr. Roark.

  The place was fucking filthy. But swanky as fuck and it was going to make us a lot of dosh. There was a public club as well as a VIP area for vetted and approved members, only.

  I didn’t need the money. But it was a very nice incentive. And I liked to finish what I started. Plus, John Lewis was probably my closest buddy and needed Ferrano help.

  “I got six kids to put through college, Tommy, man. And the economy has been fuckin’ killin’ me.”

  It helped that staying involved would mean I could also block and maybe even crush Leo Denarda under my heel like the cockroach deserved. He’d been an annoyance up until now.

  Now? He was proving to be a serious pain in my ass. I looked forward to watching him fuck himself over by being an idiot. It wouldn’t take long for him to piss off the wrong person and get a price put on his head.

  And as for Fete itself? I woulda ate this shit up back when I was single. Fuck, I’d have considered moving in, building condos next door.

  The book world had brought kink into the forefront and out of the woodwork and underground dungeon clubs so more people could now get what they wanted (within limits, usually) or what they thought they might want.

  But, it also meant that the crazies came. Some people in that lifestyle or curious about it were happy about the ability to widen their net. Others were pissed at the mockery that was being made of their lifestyle.

  I’d dabbled in the scene but had never considered myself ‘in the lifestyle’.

  I’d never known what it took to be a nurturing Dominant. Before Athena, I liked to fuck the submissives and got a rush out of fucking the sub-curious females who had no fucking idea what it was like to fuck a man with a healthy appetite for rough and dominating sex. The shit I’d pulled with some of those girls? I should’ve been kicked out of the club I had membership in back home; they just gave me a wide berth because of who I am and how I’d handle disrespect.

  I now knew that the girls I’d hooked up with there should be poster children for what to watch out for and how not to dabble in the world of dark kink.

  Since Tia, I was trying to learn a little more about the life, to learn how to be what her submissive side needed while not giving complete control to my hunger. I’d read a couple books on the subject and figured if I could figure out how to manage my urges, maybe I’d keep a lock on them most of the time.

  And beyond helping us keep our sex life safely spicy, it could help me with my demons. I wasn’t looking to define my sexual tastes or put labels on my relationship with my girl but I was trying to get my head out of my own ass so that I could be what she needed.

  I was trying to show maturity as a husband, as the man she’d voluntarily given herself to. I had to protect her, from me if needed.

  Of course the idea of seeing that fear before submission still got me hard but since she got pregnant, I was happy to feed her hungry appetite for fucking but yet we hadn’t played any games.

  She’d tried to bait me a couple times lately, like she’d done right after we got married, but I didn’t let myself play since getting the news that she was carrying my baby. And it pissed her off a little, but I’d snap her out of it by kissing her belly and reminding her that she didn’t want my hunger going over the edge like it’d done in Costa Rica. And that’d get her sweet and dewy-eyed.

  Costa Rica had frightened us both to the degree that I was now planning to use my association with Fete to learn how to be what Tia needed without putting her at any risk.

  I’d broached the subject with John Lewis, who was in the life 24/7 with his wife Kate. I phoned him from Costa Rica after a particularly rough time and at first he was cocky, telling me he was glad I was gonna stop being a punk about it. I hung up on him.

  Of course I didn’t like hearing that, but I had to get over my shit. So, I hit my heavy bag for forty minutes and then called him back.

  We’d had a few good conversations and he’d recommended some reading material. He later told me he’d give me some advice for play during pregnancy, too.

  He and his wife, having had six kids, meant he’d had plenty of experience playing with her safely but effectively while pregnant.

  Today, we weren’t gonna talk about that private shit, though. And John was a good guy who wouldn’t ever bring it up unless I did first.

  I answered John’s questioning chin jerk about Denarda.

  “He had some shitheads rough up a bookie buddy of ours. Guy’s broken away, good terms, but it’s recent and Denarda didn’t know that.”

  Killian was a good guy and he and Dare were tight. We were not happy when this happened. It happened after Dare’s wedding. Kill and his new girlfriend had gotten swarmed on his way home from the reception.

  “Shit,” Johnny shook his head.

  “Yeah, bunch of expensive supplies vanished from a construction site of ours in Portland yesterday, including a large quantity of some very fucking pricy copper wire. Someone saw three white cargo vans leave early. No one local would pull that shit at that level, knowing it was our site. Security guards on the job site got roughed up and held at gunpoint.

  Our logo was all over the place. We suspect he orchestrated it because not only was he in the vicinity, not tryin’ to hide it, but my top security guy just notified me that someone matching his description fucked our family restaurant, Venetia, for a $1930 tab the night before, shit load of expensive wine and top shelf booze and a pile of the most expensive food on the menu. Guy matchin’ Denarda’s description walked out.

  Found out he bought a first-class ticket the day before y
esterday to my city, returning to Vegas this morning. He was on the flight I missed. If my wife wasn’t pukin’ her guts out when I was supposed to leave, we’d have been on that plane together. That was no coincidence. That sleazy little fucker wanted me to set eyes on his ugly mug and be stuck lookin’ at it for two hours.”

  “Leo was shunned at the door of a big game I was at last week and didn’t react. Or didn’t seem to react,” John added, topping up both our glasses with Scotch. He told the server to leave the bottle.

  She’d tried to give me ‘fuck me’ eyes but I’d ignored her. It wasn’t hard. Women coming onto me wasn’t new but as always, I’d never been led around by my dick. The only woman who had the capability to do that was my wife and it wasn’t her style --- probably part of why she had that ability.

  John, however, had stared at that server’s ass and legs in tiny black booty shorts as she strutted away.

  “We’ll talk more later,” I said, “not in front of Goldberg.” I jerked my chin toward Ben Goldberg, who was approaching our table.

  Goldberg strolled up to us and sat with a sigh.

  “Her seams are crooked, Benny-boy,” Johnny said, the cigar in between his teeth, gesturing to our server, who was still strutting away.

  Ben looked over his shoulder and shook his head, “Standards.”

  He pulled his phone out of the inside breast pocket of his suit, dialed, and then barked, “Get Lily straightened up. Her seams are a mess.” He hung up.

  “Fete needs to be pristine,” Johnny said.

  “Agreed,” Ben reached for the bottle, filled a glass and leaned in, “I got a scene for that. Master flogs his sub for crooked seams. After she takes her punishment, the scene ends with a flash forward to her the following day, purposely pushing those seams askew when he’s ready to inspect.”

  “Niiiiice…” Johnny drawled and then looked at me, “This guy. Some got an app for that. Benny’s got a scene for that.”

  Ben Goldberg was a perverted fucker, for sure. He looked as straight-laced missionary-style as they came. But he wasn’t. Not by a longshot.

 

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