Filthy Commitments: A Submissives’ Secrets Novel

by Michelle Love

  Grady winced. “Don’t say that, God, please, Flori.”

  “Sorry.” She looked contrite. “That was a poor comparison. What I mean is, it terrifies me to think that we may never have met.”

  Grady kissed her. “I don’t think that was possible—I would have found you somehow.”

  Flori laughed. “You think?”

  “Absolutely. No doubt.”

  She kissed him. “Are you hungry?”

  He considered. “Not really. You?

  “Me neither.”

  Her hand drifted down his body to his cock and he grinned. “Ready to go again?” He rolled on top of her, and she wound her arms around his neck.

  “Always with you … always...”

  Quilla barely had time to say hello to Jakob before he was stripping her. He’d been at work all day and had come home angry. She knew he was angry by the way he barked a hello then launched himself at her, kissing her fiercely, his mouth so rough she could taste blood. He’d been like this for weeks, angry, brutal, wanting sex, wanting that release, needing it, and Quilla, a little frightened by his machismo, went along with it. After all, she had felt the same thing after Gregor’s attack on her.

  Jakob had taken Kit’s death harder than anyone, with the exception of Joel. His guilt, his anger, and grief were palpable in the way he talked and moved. He had the same look in his eyes that he’d had all those months ago, standing on that bridge in Venice, ready to end his life. Quilla was terrified he’d start using again, so when he came home, already revved up, she went along with it, letting him fuck her in any way that he wanted to, to get that anger out. Afterward, he would be calmer, so she figured, if it helped …

  He led her over to the wall-to-ceiling windows that looked over the city, the Seattle evening, cloudy. He had dimmed the lights and as he pushed her against the window, the glass cold on her breasts, her belly, he took her from behind, thrusting his diamond-hard cock into her, clamping her hands to the glass with his own. He fucked hard and fast, slamming his cock into her as deep as he could, groaning her name over and over as he buried his face in her hair.

  He took her again almost immediately, sweeping her onto the carpet and thrusting in again. His eyes were almost crazed, and Quilla closed her own so she would not feel afraid of him. Later, after they’d showered and eaten a light supper, she curled up against him on the couch. He kissed her forehead.

  “Are you okay, baby?” Quilla stroked her husband’s face with her fingertips and smiled when he turned to kiss them.

  “I honestly don’t know, sweetheart. I think I’m pulling it together, then, by the end of the day, I’ve been thinking about Kit and Gregor and what he’s done to us all, and then I’m so angry. You are the only thing that helps, Quilla. Darling … I’m sorry if I seem to be … I just need you.”

  “You have me,” she whispered. “Forever. Whatever you need, I’m here for.” She pulled his head onto her chest, wanting to soothe him, pressing her lips against his hair. “I love you, husband mine.”

  He gave a low chuckle. “Is it weird that I can’t believe it’s only a few months that we’ve been married?”

  “I know. This time last year, we didn’t know each other, and now we’re an old married couple.”

  “Pipe and slippers.”

  She laughed. “Let’s just go to bed, baby; I’ll make you forget everything.”

  Later, when Quilla was asleep, Jakob lay awake, fighting his fatigue. He didn’t want to sleep, didn’t want the nightmares that had plagued him for months. They were always the same; Gregor Fisk—or lately, several Gregor Fisks—hurting his family, torturing them, killing them. The worst ones were always about Quilla and when sleep finally overcame him, tonight’s was no different.

  They were back on the island, lying on the deck, surrounded by candles, making love, Quilla naked and glorious in the leather harness he loved her in. She was on top of him, smiling down at him as she rode him, looking so, so beautiful that he had tell her over and over how much he loved her. She opened her mouth to answer him …

  There was a weird swooshing sound. Quilla gasped and jerked. Jakob, confused, watched in horror as blood started to pour from her navel. Another whoosh. A red wound appeared an inch above the first. Quilla looked confused, scared, her blood, too much blood, gushing from her. Another whoosh—another red dot on her honeyed skin and then he knew. Bullet wounds. Another bullet drilled into her stomach. No no no no …

  And then Gregor was there, laughing as he shot her again and again as she jerked and cried out. Jakob couldn’t move, couldn’t help her, and couldn’t shout as he watched Quilla being murdered in front of him. Please, no, stop, he wanted to scream at Gregor. Now he understood the whooshing sound—a silencer screwed onto the muzzle of an impossibly big gun.

  Something in his brain told him this isn’t real; this isn’t real, but when Gregor pressed the muzzle against Quilla’s flesh before bending to kiss her, Jakob finally screamed. Gregor emptied the chamber into Quilla’s body then let her flop, at the brink of death, to the ground. Her lovely eyes were staring sightlessly at him, and he screamed her name over and over as Gregor delivered his final blow, a bullet to her heart … .

  “Jakob! Jakob!” How was she calling him? She was dead, he knew that and …

  “Jakob, wake up; you’re hurting me, Jakob!”

  He opened his eyes and, with a start, realized Quilla, very much alive, was struggling underneath him. He had pinned her, wrapping his thickly muscled arms around her body, and was squeezing her so tightly she was struggling to breathe. He let her go immediately, devastated, begging her forgiveness.

  Eventually, she calmed him down, holding him gently, stroking his head. She managed to coax the truth about his nightmares out from him, and although she paled at the description of her murder, she told him calmly over and over that it wasn’t real. She made him get in the shower to cool down his overheated body, then made him a drink, scotch, the way he liked it. Wrapped in her robe, she sat with him until he had truly calmed down.

  Jakob stroked her face. “I’m sorry I hurt you, baby; you know I would never do that consciously.”

  “I do know that, I swear. But I think you should see someone, a therapist. Despite my reservations, it really did help me.”

  Jakob smiled. “I know it did, but I’m not sure I’d be so receptive.”

  “Why not?”

  “Too cynical. Too jaded.”

  “Bullshit,” she said with a smile. “If the next thing that comes out of your mouth is ‘too old,' I will beat your ancient ass.”

  He laughed, grateful for her trying to lighten the mood. “I will think about it, I swear.”

  Quilla nodded. “Good.”

  His phone, abandoned on the counter when he’d come in, began to buzz. He accepted the call, checking the time. Three-o-five a.m. He frowned.

  “Hey, Dad, what’s up?”

  He listened as his dad spoke, his jaw setting grimly. “Yeah. Okay, I’ll meet you there.”

  Quilla raised her eyebrows at him as he ended the call and he nodded at her. “Sweetheart, let’s get packing. We’re going to Australia. They’ve got the shooter.”

  Nan watched Joel packing, throwing clothes haphazardly into a bag. He didn’t look at her as he relayed to her what his father had told him. “It might be best for you and Hayley to go to the big house while we’re away. There’s more security. Hank will drive you to work and back.”

  Nan nodded, her chest tight. “I could come with you – “

  “No. I don’t want you dealing with all that. Better you and Hayley are safe. Skandar will be back on Saturday from the tournament.”

  Nan was silent for a time, not trusting herself to speak. Joel had been distant and withdrawn since Kit’s murder, the grief written all over his face. Nan felt him slipping away from her daily; they hadn’t made love since before the shooting, and he spent long hours at the construction site for his first sports center. They would eat in silence, Nan having g
iven up asking him about his day.

  It was only when they were sitting down together, reading of watching the TV. that she felt any closeness. He would hold her hand for a time, or leave his arm across the back of the couch, so his fingers stroked her hair but after a time, again, when they went to sleep, Nan felt cold and lonely.

  Now, he didn’t want her with him in Australia. She got up and went into the kitchen to hide the tears that were threatening. A few escaped as she grabbed a glass and filled it from the tap.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She turned to find Joel watching her from the doorway. She put down her glass and tried to smile. “Nothing. Can I help you pack?”

  “It’s done. Nan ...” he came to take her in his arms. “Please, I don’t mean to be like this. I’m trying to hold it together for my dad, my family, and if I get emotional … I think I might break. I love you, Nan, please just … bear with me.”

  She gazed up at him and smoothed the frown lines between his eyes. “I can help you relax,” she whispered and pressed her lips to his. She felt him respond briefly, then pull away.

  “I can’t. I’m sorry. Look, I’ll call you when we get to Sydney. Take care of yourself—don’t go anywhere without Hank or Gus.”

  And he was gone. She heard the front door close, lock, and she let out a sob. Big mistake. She couldn’t hold back then, and it was five minutes before she could manage to get to her phone and call her sister.

  Hayley knew what was wrong immediately. “Hang on in there, sis; I’m on my way.”

  Randall Mallory shook hands with the Chief Inspector of Police in the Sydney station. They’d arrived less than an hour ago and were swiftly taken by town car to the place where the shooter was being held.

  “His name is Daniel Harland, thirty-two, unemployed.”

  “He’s talking?”

  “Singing like a damn canary.”

  The inspector motioned to a room, and Randall, Jakob, and Joel went in to see two-way glass and a prisoner in the next room. He looked blandly normal. Ran and Jakob exchanged a glance as Joel fixed his eye on the man who had killed his twin brother. Daniel Harland looked relaxed, even amused as two detectives questioned him.

  “Obviously, I can’t let you into the room to hear what he has to say but, because it’s you, Mr. Mallory, I’m going to let you listen in. I’m putting my neck out for you here, so ...”

  Randall nodded. “Of course. I appreciate it.”

  The inspector nodded at Jakob and Joel and flicked a switch. A moment later, they heard the detectives talking.

  “So, to go over this again, you’re admitting to shooting and killing Christopher—known as Kit—Mallory on the night of the seventh.”

  “Yeah.”

  Jakob’s eyebrows shot up. “He’s American.” The inspector nodded.

  The questioning continued. “Can you tell us why you murdered Mr. Mallory?”

  “I was paid to shoot him and his girlfriend. I got off a shot at the girlfriend, but he managed to get her to safety before I could kill her. I didn’t miss him, as you know.”

  “Who hired you to carry out the killings?”

  “Gregor Allan Fisk.”

  Even Ran couldn’t hold back a gasp at the open way he’d just admitted Gregor was responsible. Even the interviewing detectives looked bemused, and Harland grinned.

  “You look surprised, detectives. Mr. Fisk asked me to give you a message –give the Mallory’s a message.”

  “And what would that be?”

  Harland glanced up at the two-way glass, as if he knew the Mallorys were watching him. “None of them are safe. He’s going to kill every last one of them—their women first. He’s hired contractors to deal with all of them. All of them except one.”

  Jakob looked like he knew what Harland was about to say. Ran put a calming hand on his son’s shoulder.

  “Which one? And why not?”

  Harland smiled nastily. “The eldest son’s woman. The Asian one. Fisk says she’s all his. He’s looking forward to doing her properly this time, he says. I wouldn’t want to be her at the end.”

  Jakob looked like he could throw up; Joel banged on the glass angrily, and the detectives looked up.

  “Okay, let’s go.” The inspector gave Joel a withering look, which he ignored. Ran’s lips pursed together.

  “I think we’ve seen enough,” he said, and Jakob gave him a sharp nod. Ran knew his son would want to get back to Quilla, safe in the hotel with an armed guard, after hearing what Harland would have to say.

  The inspector walked them out. Ran thanked him. “But he didn’t really tell us anything we didn’t already know. Inspector, have your people been looking for Fisk?”

  “You can bet we have,” the man nodded. “We’ve had our armed response scouring the city, all airports, train stations and bus stations have been put on watch. If Fisk is here, we’ll find him.”

  “That man doesn’t have a clue who he is dealing with,” said Joel when they were back in the town car. “Does he honestly think that they can get Fisk when we haven’t been able to find him? With our resources?”

  “Give him a break,” Jakob muttered. “What’s he supposed to say to us? Sorry, mate, we know we can’t catch him, so we’re not going to bother at all?”

  Joel’s grim face suddenly broke out into a smile. “What the hell was that accent? Welsh?”

  Even Jakob cracked a smile. “Yeah, yeah.”

  Ran chuckled. God, it felt good to laugh for once. Ran had felt like he’d been robbed of joy since Kit had died, that he’d never feel that lightness in his soul again. He rubbed his face.

  “Well, looks like we’ll need to ramp up security and extend the search.”

  “Where to, Mars?” Jakob asked, incredulously. “Dad, we’re looking in every corner of the globe. I think we need to think about changing tack. Draw Gregor out.”

  Ran shot his eldest son a look. “And how would we do that, Jakob? The only thing we know for sure is that Gregor wants to kill your wife himself. Are you suggesting we use Quilla as bait?”

  “Hell, no. God, Dad, I don’t know, I’m just thinking out loud.” Jakob slumped back into his seat and they drove in silence for a while.

  “Quilla wouldn’t hesitate,” Jakob said eventually. “To save the rest of us, she would sacrifice herself, and that’s why this is not even going to be a consideration. Not that I would ever put her in harm’s way. Jesus, I don’t even know why he’s fixated on her.”

  Ran smiled softly. “Don’t you?” and Jakob had to look away.

  “There’s a difference between desiring someone and wanting to kill them, Dad.” His voice broke, and Ran relented.

  “Psychopaths don’t work to the same logic as the rest of us, son. Anyway, this subject is null and void. No bait. No risking anyone’s lives. We do this the right way.”

  Joel made a noise then, and when his father and brother looked at him, he shrugged. “I hope by ‘right’ you mean we get the bastard. Because I don’t care if it’s legal or not, I’m going to kill that man. I’m going to rip him limb from limb and enjoy every fucking minute.

  Hayley and Nan, now moved to Ran’s mansion, greeted Skandar as he returned from his tournament. He’d been beaten in the second round but, he told them, he couldn’t have cared less. All he wanted was to be at home with his family.

  “I offered to fly out to Oz, but Dad said he’d rather I was here with you.”

  Hayley hugged him tightly. “So glad you’re here.”

  Skandar buried his face in her neck. “God, me, too, baby.” He kissed her, then grinned at Nan. “Hey, sis/step-mom, how are you?”

  Nan tried to smile, but Skandar’s merry face just looked too much like Joel’s. Skandar frowned and put his arm around her. “Hey, hey, hey, you okay?”

  She couldn’t help the tears then, and Hayley and Skandar held her while she sobbed out her fears about Joel. When she’d calmed down, she looked apologetically at them both.

  “Sorry.
It’s just been a strain since Kit. I feel so useless, Skandar; your dad, is so remote. I want to help him but ...” Her voice broke again.

  Skandar hugged her. “Look, Kit was his twin; he’s bound to feel it even more keenly than the rest of us. Just be there, and forgive him if he gets difficult. I promise he’ll hate himself for treating you like this; he just doesn’t know how to deal with this. He is so in love with you, Nan, I swear to God, he is.”

  Nan smiled gratefully at him. “Thank you, Skan. If he doesn’t buck up,” she suddenly grinned, “I might swap father for son.”

  “Hey, now,” Hayley piped up in mock outrage, “do I get a say? Besides,” she said in an aside to her sister, “his dong is tiny. You wouldn’t want him ...”

  “You are so dumped,” Skandar was laughing now. “And just so you know, Nan, it’s massive.”

  Nan was giggling now, enjoying the silliness of her sister and Skandar as they busted each other’s chops, teasing, and play-fighting. God, she wanted that fun back in her life. She immediately felt guilty for thinking that when Kit was dead. She excused herself from the others and went outside to get some air. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Joel.

  “Hey, beautiful.”

  She almost sighed with relief at the warmth in his voice. “Hi, gorgeous … how did it go?”

  “It’s Fisk, but we knew that anyway. Look, Dad, Jakob, and Quilla are flying back, but I’m going to London for a couple of days. Will you be okay?”

  “Sure, I’m at the big house with the others … what’s in London?”

  “Just someone I have to talk to. My flight’s being called. I’ll talk to you when I get to London. Nan?”

  “Yes, baby?”

  “I love you, honey.”

  She smiled down the phone. “I love you too, big fella. Hurry home to me.”

  “I will.”

  Bo Kennedy shoved her honey-blonde hair into a bun and lifted Tiger from his bath. “Come on, you big oaf. God, you are a heavy little bugger now, you know?”