by Ann Raina
Chapter 12
The door burst open and two guards rushed in. Michael had just pulled up his underpants and raised his hands as the two men closed in on him. They wore black police uniforms and severe expressions on hard faces. Both men had their hands on long, black batons.
Eric, on the bed, gasped.
Michael backed up two steps, but it was too late.
“Hey, wait! What’s this about?”
“Down on the ground! Now!” The first guard grabbed his shoulder.
Michael yanked free with one move when the other man, broader and heavier than the first, rammed a baton in his stomach. “Damn you!” Michael was on his knees, coughing. He looked up and found grim determination. As if they were out to hit and kill. “Are you out of your minds?”
“Hands on your back!”
“What the fuck’re you doin’?” Eric sat up from bed quickly, but regretted the movement at once. He winced. “What’s this about?”
“You’re under arrest!” the first guard growled, closing handcuffs around Michael’s wrists.
“Ouch!” Michael turned his head. “That hurt!”
“It should,” said the second guard. He stared at Michael, ready to swing the baton again.
“What’s the accusation?” Michael’s head spun like a rollercoaster gone mad. He hadn’t expected to be in deep shit so soon.
The first guard pulled him roughly to his feet, bruising his upper arm on purpose. “You’ll hear that soon enough!”
“You cannot arrest him!” Eric forced his body to follow his will. He was almost up.
“Stay where you are!” The second guard pointed the baton in Eric’s direction. He glared at the young man and his voice was a deep bass growl. “If you pose a threat, you’ll be handled like him.”
“You’re completely nuts!”
Michael was forced toward the door and glanced over his shoulder. Eric was up and steadied himself at the post. “Stay put, I’ll handle that myself.”
“You can’t do that, Matt! Where’re they taking you? Why?”
“I don’t know.” He turned back and missed the doorframe by an inch. “Bastards!” He struggled the grip. The guard pressed his arms higher with one hand and pushed down his shoulder with the other that Michael clenched his teeth in pain. “Stop that! I’ll do what you say!”
“You better.” He didn’t loosen his grip.
Michael was shoved through the corridor, trying to think of a strategy to get out. He knew it had been risky to show up in the kitchen and ask Robert about Habib later on. He knew he had had to take that risk to verify that a staff member was gone. Had he been too forward? Had Alyssa talked with Mr. Summerston after their meeting in the parking lot and blurted out what he had said? He didn’t see Mr. Summerston or the lady. Maybe they had ordered the guards to handle him. Or Kamal? He was in deeper shit than expected if the Middle East leader was sent to work on him. Michael sweated badly. He needed an exit strategy now. He had to explain his interest in Habib or would end like him. “What do you want from me?” he asked the guard walking next to him. “Who told you to arrest me?”
The pressure on his arms intensified. The guard stooped to hiss in his ear. “You’re in no position to ask questions.”
“Listen, if there’s an accusation of some kind, I have a right to know about it, now! You’re not even police, so why do you dare handling me like a criminal?”
“We’re police,” the guard in his back said. “Enough to tell you where to go or where not.”
“That’s bullshit!” They walked upstairs and Michael was more irritated than before. He had expected a closed van at the rear exit and a trip toward the nearest garbage disposal. Or maybe the backyard of a Chinese restaurant. “You got no real batches, you got no police handguns. So what’s this fuck for? Beating me up?”
“That’s up to someone else.”
The threat fell like a hot iron on Michael’s nerves. So I am considered a threat to their enterprise! He swallowed hard and forced his mind to think of what lay ahead. He was almost naked and handcuffed with two bad guys at his side. Wherever they took him, he needed to get rid of them first before they could lock him up. He knew the rooms ahead. There were plenty of possibilities to keep him from curious eyes for some time. Everybody would consider this a game.
“To whom do you take me?”
“Shut up, lover boy, or feel the club again.”
“Is that what you do? Threaten me with a thrashing?”
The first guard laughed briefly, then, without warning, backhanded him. It was a moderate blow, more meant to stun than to harm him.
Michael saw a few black spots dancing before his eyes. His nose hurt. They reached the room on the first floor. Michael recognized it immediately. Great! Fuck! A beautiful suite as an interrogation room. If that isn’t hilarious, I don’t know what is.
The guard knocked and entered. The second guard pushed Michael hard enough that he stumbled into the room. A second push with a shove at the shoulder brought him down prone. He turned to land on his shoulder instead of his face and looked up.
“Good work, guys,” a low, female voice said. “I’ll take it from here.”
“Very well, ma’am.”
The guards left and pulled the door shut.
Michael fought against a laughing fit and almost lost.
There stood a stout woman in front of him—feet set apart for a better stand—dressed to the nines in a black police officer uniform, complete with badge, holster, handcuffs and a baton, which she swung lazily. The police hat sat somewhat haphazardly on her brown locks. Her gray eyes rested with bitter severity on Michael’s face, thin lips pressed to a bloodless line amid a round face with many small wrinkles, more from laughing than from grief.
Michael turned his face back toward the floor to get a grip.
She got a step closer and poked his shoulder with her spit-shined shoe. “I knew, they’d catch you sooner than later.”
The dialect was upper crust Boston and so didn’t fit her exterior. Michael pressed his lips so tight that his jaw hurt.
“Thought you’d escape me, right? But no one escapes Melissa Hanley.” She poked him again when he remained silent. “Better answer me, dude, or this’ll be a really bad night for ya!”
“I don’t give shit about your opinions.”
Mrs. Hanley laughed a thick belly laugh that shook her whole body. Then the baton came down on Michael’s buttocks.
“Better don’t try to charm me, fucker! You gonna pay for it!”
The hit hadn’t been hard, but Michael thought of his options. Role-play was always a surprise. “You got me. Obviously.” He dared looking up. She stood above him, hands on her hips, waiting with narrowed eyes for his next words. Michael wet his lips. The sight was hilariously funny. How should he stand the evening, no, the next minutes without bursting? “But I bet you got nothing to accuse me of. Nothin’.”
She kicked his side that he winced. Histrionics. “You’ll be confessing everything I want until night’s over!”
Michael swallowed. This will be an interesting night indeed.
* * * *
Patricia Dellman swung her right leg across her left, careful not to cause a snag in her hose with the new sling backs she wore. She hadn’t been able to pass by the shoe shop in Washington and liked to see her slim feet in the latest pair. She had lost count how many pairs she owned, but if one cupboard was full, she ordered a new one.
If it were this easy with men life would be wonderful, she mused, watching Lady Summerston join her on the porch to watch the sunset. She sat down heavily, her face tired.
“Have you made up your mind, Kate?”
“Hmm?”
“Have you made up your mind?” Patricia repeated, punctuating every syllable. She couldn’t even trigger a faint smile and sighed. “You don’t have to make this face every time I’m around, you know? The no-fun attitude doesn’t become you.”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind lately
.” Lady Summerston turned to face her friend. “Do you think that there are too many foreign employees on my grounds?”
“Yes. I told you so before, if you remember. I know, Dave and George hire your people, but you should interfere.”
“I already did.” She shook her head. “Another man left us. Surprisingly. Rash. I asked Dave today and he didn’t even know the man was gone.” She lowered her chin to look into the glass of tea she had brought. “Dave is nothing but icing on a cake. He knows about decorating rooms and that’s it. Business necessities escape him completely.”
“And George?”
Lady Summerston lifted her head again, exhaling as if it was an effort. “George said Habib left for a better employment. However, he didn’t tell me where he went.”
“And you couldn’t find out either.”
Lady Summerston nodded.
“Maybe he hasn’t arrived yet. Or he changed his mind.”
“That’s a possibility.”
Patricia shrugged. “People change their minds frequently. Every day. You don’t need to worry about that. Maybe he got an offer he couldn’t decline.”
“I heard so.”
Patricia gave an exasperated sigh. “Are we into secretive mood again? Or do you like brooding over other people’s lives every day?”
“I heard that’s part of my business.”
Patricia didn’t want to hear that and made a dismissive gesture. “I’d like to remind you of the nice young man, Matthew, who was hired in your service. You still haven’t arranged a date for me, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to have him sooner than later.”
“The man was a good worker. Valdez—that’s our senior cook—said he was a very reliable helper. It’s unlike him to just leave without even saying goodbye.”
“Okay, so someone walked away.” Patricia shrugged, impatient. “He left early because he didn’t want to say goodbye. Or he minded to throw a party for all of them. Some people are bad with that…awkward. They just go.”
Lady Summerston frowned. “Do you believe what you’re babbling? Because I don’t.”
Patricia arched her brows high enough to hit the hairline. “From secretive to insulting mood, yes? Is that your idea of a perfect day? Then I like to remind you that I’m not of the employees, but your friend.”
“I haven’t had a perfect day for long, Pat. I feel control slip.” She watched concern seep back on her friend’s face. “George deals with people I’m not comfortable with and by now he seems to have trouble with them as well.”
“Trouble? But, hey, he’s the manager. If he doesn’t like an employee, there should be a reason to fire him. After all, that’s what all employers do, don’t they?”
“There’s a contract, an agreement, if you like to call it that way, and both sides are out for profit. It can’t be revoked so easily.”
Patricia’s brows furrowed. “I see. And what do they do? Steal?”
Lady Summerston smiled wanly. “They employ absolutely reliable people. Correct. Hardworking.” Before Patricia could word her astonishment, she lifted a hand. “Yes, that sounds great, I know, and in the beginning it was all shining happiness. But George is restless, can’t sleep, and the employees change too often. I had a conversation with him about the rate of foreign staff and he seemed shell-shocked by the idea to employ less.” She shook her head again. “The situation is tricky, at least.”
“Do you know what this is all about?”
“I wish I would.”
“But, Kate, it’s your house, and as far as I remember—and my memory is reliable when it comes to business—you allowed George into this business, not vice versa.” She snorted. “Now your lenience costs you.”
“It might. Yes, it might.” She looked at Patricia sincerely. “If I need help, will you be there?”
“You bet your ass on that.”
The door burst open and Mrs. Hollander stormed the room, ignoring Peter, who had been too polite to grab and throw her downstairs. “I’ll sue you, Mrs. Summerston!” she roared. “I’ll sue you if it’s the last thing I do!”
Pat pursed her lips and looked at her friend, one eyebrow up. “Seems to me, my help is needed sooner than expected.”
* * * *
Mrs. Hanley was stronger than he expected. She pulled him up under the armpit and threw him on the bed.
“I wrestled with guys like you my whole life.” She smiled with grim satisfaction, seeing his astonishment. “You’re just one of the goons. One of the weaker ones, after all.” She stooped toward him. “And, remember, they all lost against me.”
Michael saw eagerness in her eyes, but there was also amusement. A sparkle of true happiness that flushed her cheeks and brought life to her face.
“I won’t lose, you bet,” he snarled.
“I haven’t even started!” His boxers were gone with one mighty pull, almost torn at the waistband when he resisted. “No, no, you won’t get away so easily!” She was on the bed, pinning him down. “If you dare resisting me, I’m gonna eat ya as a snack for dinner.” She ripped open the black shirt and breasts the size of cantaloupes tried to jump from a violet lace bra.
Michael couldn’t help it. He burst with laughter.
For a second, Mrs. Hanley was stunned and stared at her date, disbelieving her eyes.
“I’m sorry. So sorry,” Michael managed to say when he subdued his laughter to a low chortle. He had tears in his eyes. “I shouldn’t do that.”
Mrs. Hanley tilted her head and pursed her lips then, with a sigh heavy enough to shake the bed, sank on the cushions beside him and propped herself on her right elbow. She shook her head and when Michael thought she would force him to obedience, he saw a smile blossom.
“I’ve always wanted to do this, Matt,” she confessed quietly. “And you ruin it.” She looked up, pouting. “You just ruined it.”
“I said, I’m sorry.” He pushed himself on his elbows, an uncomfortable position with his hands bound. “Believe me, if I’d been told, I’d been prepared.” When she cocked an eyebrow and smiled mischievously, he added, “Okay, a little bit better prepared.”
“You’re honest at least.” Mrs. Hanley pulled the cloth over her breasts and fumbled with the buttons.
“No, don’t do that. Or do you want to leave?”
“What’s on your mind?”
“You wanted to play so we play.”
* * * *
“You should make the effort to tell me your complaint, Mrs. Hollander.” Lady Summerston stood to walk past her, close to the coffee table. She didn’t match the angry woman in size or strength, but being the owner of the business gave her authority she used to its full extent. “For I haven’t known that anything happened that was not to your liking.”
“Not to my liking?” Mrs. Hollander pointed a finger at Lady Summerston, exhaling loudly as if the ignorance in the room was too hard to bear. “One of your employees put me in the ice cold water basin in the sauna this afternoon! That’s an unforgivable assault! He tried to drown me, that bastard!”
Slowly, while the woman rattled on about bodily harm and her lawyer being called already, Lady Summerston walked to her desk to sit down and pull a piece of paper. “Describe the incident for me, please.”
Mrs. Hollander pushed back a strand of long hair and rolled her shoulders. Her gaze hit Patricia, who sat on the armchair, a quiet observer. She forced her voice to be quieter, more reasonable. “I was dressed after my hour in the sauna and on my way out. The next thing I know, someone grabbed me from behind and pushed my head under water!”
“You saw the person, who did this?” She made it a question, keeping Mrs. Hollander in her stare until she backed down.
“No, I didn’t see him.”
“What makes you think it was a man?”
“His strength, you…” She caught her tongue in time. “It couldn’t have been a woman! No way!”
“But you are not able to identify the person.”
The tall lady gnashed her
teeth. Her hands were balled into tight fists. “No, I’m not.”
“So you file a complaint against an unknown person present in the sauna today.” Lady Summerston took down notes.
“I’m sure there were others watching! Ladies, who won’t play it down like you do!”
“I certainly don’t play it down, Mrs. Hollander, I merely state the facts known.” Lady Summerston caught Patricia’s half-hidden smile. “And those facts only tell me what I just said. I will follow this complaint and lead an investigation, but you will understand that if you can neither claim who did it nor who was witness, it is hard to prove your complaint.”
Mrs. Hollander stepped closer and put her hands on the desk, stooping. “Are you implying that I made this up?”
“I would never assume such a thing.”
The other woman pushed away, again pointing a finger at Lady Summerston. “I will sue you! My lawyer—”
“You might think about involving your lawyer based on such weak facts.”
“I do what I see fit.”
“That’s true for sure.” Lady Summerston’s voice sank to a growl. “However, in such a case I might feel obliged to file an accusation against you—”
“What?”
“For causing bodily harm on one member of my escort service.”
They stared at each other. The air in the room thickened, filled with tension and unspoken hate.
“He agreed to what I proposed.” Mrs. Hollander spoke in slow, measured words. “I did nothing he did not know I would do.”
“There are rules which cannot be altered, Mrs. Hollander, no matter the submissive’s agreement,” Patricia said, raising. “Rules that—if not properly regarded—lead to permanent harm.”
Mrs. Hollander paled. “I did nothing—”
Lady Summerston glared at her. “He was tended to by a doctor and his examination brought forward that your beatings were severe. His recovery will take at least two weeks, not to mention the psychological effects.” She waited in vain for a reply. “Therefore, I strongly suggest you search for another wellness farm fitting your demands.”