Filthy Commitments: A Submissives’ Secrets Novel

by Michelle Love

  “I heard you, Pa. What do you want me to say? I have no panic left; all there is left is hopelessness.”

  After the call had ended, Jakob sat in his hotel room. He’d called Padme’s parents, and they’d agreed to see him later. He’d also called Bo Kennedy, and she was delighted to hear from him.

  “I ’eard the news, love; that fucker doesn’t give up, does he? Come over later.”

  Padme Khan’s parents were polite, but he could tell they were not pleased to see him.

  “Padme told you about us, then?” He couldn’t help ask the question and her father, a serious-looking man with rimless spectacles and a full beard, nodded.

  “She did. For what it’s worth, she told us that she regretted the affair but not that it was with you. She cared for you deeply, Mr. Mallory.”

  “As I did for her. I’m not proud that we had a fling behind Gregor’s back but I can’t change that. I’m so very sorry that she died. Dr. Khan, be straight with me. What were her true feelings for Gregor?”

  Padme’s mother muttered something under her breath, then looked at her husband. He nodded.

  “Gregor’s intensity concerned her; part of the reason why she moved back to London was that she was beginning to feel afraid of him. He called, of course, after she’d come home, begging her to come back. Then after a while, the calls just stopped. Then, one night, she was coming home on the Tube. It was only a couple of streets from where she lived. She was stabbed to death a few seconds from where she lived. Fisk was questioned, of course, but he had an alibi and after a few months, the investigation was quietly dropped.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jakob said softly. “Her murder not being solved, it must be awful.”

  “You make the mistake of thinking that if the law has said so, it must be unsolved. We know different,” Padme’s mother held his gaze. “We know who killed our daughter, Mr. Mallory.”

  Jakob was at Bo Kennedy’s door by eight-thirty. Despite only meeting her once before, he immediately felt at ease in her company.

  “You look like shite,” she said and Jakob, relieved to be with someone without an agenda, laughed.

  “I feel like it.”

  Bo had made dinner, a divine beef casserole that warmed him to his soul. Two good bottles of red and he was as near to relaxed as he could be with his wife missing. He told Bo everything, and through her gentle questioning, he was finally able to admit his doubts.

  “Why would she go through with it?”

  “Easy. To stay alive, to keep Hayley alive.”

  “Everyone keeps saying that but … she looked like she was enjoying it.”

  Bo studied him. “You know what a psycho Gregor is. Come on, Jakob; this is a no-brainer. She was forced to act the part. So what is this? Please tell me it’s not your wounded male ego because I’ll scream.” She was grinning at him, and he laughed softly.

  He sighed. “I don’t know. God, this is killing me, Bo, knowing he has her, that he’s doing God knows what to her. And it’s my fault—if I’d acted more responsibly when I was younger ...”

  “We could all say that, Jakob. All of us.”

  Jakob nodded then looked around the vast living room. “This is a nice place, Bo. Kit loved it here, you know.”

  She smiled, a little flush coming onto her cheeks. “I still can’t believe he’s gone, he was just so … present, you know? Even when he was a numpty.”

  “Numpty?”

  Bo snickered. “An idiot. That’s why I loved him; he was everything, good and bad, his kindness, his massive ego, his ability to piss me off one minute, then make me fall even more in love with him the next. People are flawed, Jakob. Kit, me, you, Quilla. She’s not perfect; she’s a survivor. Do you know how many women are put through this kind of thing every day? It happens to us all in some manner. When Quilla is freed—and I have no doubt she will be—don’t ever let her know you’ve felt like this. She’s been through enough.”

  They were high in the Cascades, a small cabin—one room, but luxurious—the snow ten-feet deep outside. The nearest cabin was just across a snow field, but Gregor had already warned her. “Try to contact them and I’ll kill them without a second thought.” Quilla would not risk anyone else’s life.

  But every day she thought about killing Gregor. All day, every day. It consumed her and fueled her ‘performance’. For the first few days, he’d held a gun to her while he fucked her, obviously not trusting her after the threat of killing Hayley was removed. But now, she had been so responsive, apparently, that he’d laid the gun aside and caressed her body. She felt dirty, sullied, but she switched her feelings off and smiled prettily at him, even murmuring encouragement.

  Gregor had fallen for it all. She drove him crazy with her body, yet still, she had to listen to him fantasizing about killing her. She expected to die every day, whenever Gregor picked up the gun or used a knife. It had shredded the last of her nerves, and now she was close to the edge, struggling to keep it in.

  So, killing Gregor was all she thought about.

  Carter James and Ali Bell exited the interview room where they had been interviewing Richard Danks, the man who had delivered Hayley Applebee to freedom. Danks had been open and had given them a lot of information … but not the location where Gregor had taken Quilla Mallory. “I would tell you if I knew,” Danks had said, and the agents believed him.

  Hayley Applebee had been a star, patient and responsive, and she’d even told them, with feeling, that Danks had been kind to her on the drive to freedom.

  “He didn’t have to do that; he could have killed me; he could have done anything. They had all the cards. And he was never abusive like the other guy.”

  They’d found Paul Mines’ body in the farmhouse Hayley had identified. With Skandar, she’d agreed to show them where the house was, and had shown no fear entering it with them. To Carter James’ frustration, there was no evidence of Gregor’s plans there either.

  They all agreed he could not have taken Quilla far. Their pictures were all over the press; the airports, ports, and all other transport services had been alerted. Danks had told them Gregor was paranoid about being caught; that he’d kill both Quilla and himself before going to prison.

  Carter ran a tired hand over his eyes. Ali, wan and pale, shook her head. “This case … man, I don’t think I’ve ever been this ...” She couldn’t finish, but Carter nodded.

  “I know.”

  Ali looked up at the board containing every scrap of information they’d gleaned and threw her hands up. “What next? We have nothing more, no clue to where they are. We’re not getting Quilla Mallory back alive.”

  Carter wanted to argue but he couldn’t form the words because he knew she was right. They’d exhausted every last resource. He didn’t look forward to telling Jakob Mallory that.

  Ran put down the phone and sat back, his hands covering his face. The FBI had no leads. Ran had told them he would talk to Jakob, see what they wanted to do next. But he felt drained. He didn’t want to have to tell his oldest son that Quilla was more than likely dead. He couldn’t bear to think the lovely young woman, who had saved Jakob’s life, might be dead. Quilla had become a daughter to him and now …

  “Ran?”

  Marley entered the study looking for him. She took one look at his face and went to him. She wrapped her arms around him. Since the day they’d declared their feelings, they’d barely been able to spend any time together; tonight they were supposed to have dinner, but Ran had asked Marley to come to the house, rather than go out. Since Hayley’s release, the press had been all over all of them, all the time.

  Ran sighed, his face in her hair, his arms around her. “Thank you for coming, darling.”

  He looked up, and she stroked his face. “You look exhausted.”

  Ran tried to smile. “But better now that you’re here. Look, I have something to tell you.” In halting words, he told her that the FBI were out of ideas. Marley took it calmly at first, then her face crumpled, and she star
ted to cry. They held each other for the longest time before Marley, her face streaked with tears, finally shook her head.

  “I knew it was a longshot getting her back, but … goddammit,” she whispered. Ran pressed his lips to her forehead.

  “I’m so sorry, Marley.”

  She leaned into him. “Ran?”

  “Yes, honey?”

  “Can we forget dinner? I just want to be held.” She gazed up into his eyes. “Please, Ran, let’s just be together and forget everything else.”

  Ran nodded, and they walked to his bedroom Ran was suddenly nervous as he closed the door but Marley, sensing this, pulled her T-shirt over her head and unhooked her bra. Ran watched her as she stripped, her toned athletic body, her firm breasts and flat belly. He wanted to tell her she was beautiful, but something told him that no words were necessary here.

  Marley walked to him and kissed him, her little fingers at the buttons on his shirt. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion. He hadn’t felt like this in years—since his wife had died, he’d dated off and on, slept with a few women, but had never felt like he did right now. Marley stripped him of his clothes and smiled up at him, stroking his thickening cock against her soft belly, feeling it growing and thickening.

  He ran his hands down her body then cupped her breasts, dipping his head to his each one, flick his tongue around her nipple, her little gasp making his cock tighten and swell. They lay gently on the bed and Ran moved his body over hers, and they took their time, exploring the other. Ran knew he had kept himself in good shape, that he had the taut, hard body of someone half his age, but still, he was nervous about what she would think. He shouldn’t have been. Marley caressed and kissed his body before taking the sensitive of his penis into her mouth, the sensation of her tongue driving him crazy, and by the time he pushed into her warm, wet, velvety sex, he was lost in this woman, this brilliant, charming woman.

  Afterward, they lay, smiling at each other. Ran stroked her damp cheek, looking into her shining eyes. “I love you, Marley Griffin. I think I’ve loved you since we met. Even with the age gap, I feel I’ve met my soulmate. Will you have me, Marley? Forever, I mean? I know it’s fast, but I don’t want to wait. Marry me.”

  Marley smiled at him. “I will, Ran Mallory. I will marry you. You are the best thing to happen to me, and I’m so in love with you. Despite everything that has happened, that is still happening, you are the one bright star, and I cannot wait to be your wife.”

  Ran kissed her, overjoyed. “I want us to be married as soon as possible but at the same time, with what’s going on ...”

  “Then we should keep it a secret until everything is … settled.” Marley said firmly. “I don’t want to wait. We’ve done enough waiting. If Quilla were here, she’d be dragging us to City Hall right now.”

  Ran chuckled. “Yes, she would.” For a moment he hesitated, then he said, “Marley … I know that it seems bleak at the moment and to even hope is so painful, knowing that, in all probability, Quilla is gone. But we shouldn’t forget … Quilla negotiated Hayley’s freedom. She could do the same for herself.”

  Marley nodded. “I know. That’s the only thing stopping me from screaming. Quilla’s always been resourceful, but Gregor is pure psychopath.”

  “Keep the faith, my love.”

  They married two days later at City Hall, Ran making sure that their privacy was respected. Two clerks served as their witnesses, and afterward, Ran and Marley moved what few possessions she had—no more than a carful—to the big house. They had decided to tell the others that she was moving in with him; his sons weren’t surprised—only Jakob seemed a little … what? Marley could not make out the expression in his eyes. It wasn’t until later that it came to her.

  “God … it’s because if Quilla dies, I’ll be here as a permanent reminder of her.”

  Nothing Ran could say would ease her heart, and the relationship between his wife and his son did not improve.

  Quilla slept fitfully; her wrist handcuffed to the bed stand, and it was almost dawn when she felt Gregor lay down beside her and curl his arm around her waist. She hated every time he touched her, no matter how affectionate his caress. He must have sensed her being awake because he gave a low chuckle.

  “One day you won’t cringe when I touch you, my love.”

  I wouldn’t bet on it. She opened her eyes and looked at him.

  “Who is Padme?”

  Gregor looked surprised. “How do you know that name?”

  “You said it in your sleep last night.”

  “What else did I say?”

  “All you said was ‘Padme, please’”’

  Gregor sighed. “Padme was my first love. She was everything to me, the way you are now. But she betrayed me; she fucked around on me. You can guess who with.”

  “Jakob.” A lump sat heavily on her chest.

  “Bingo.” Gregor pushed her onto her back and stroked her stomach. “I loved Padme with everything I had and in the end, I took that love back, vowing I would never fall so hard again. And I waited. Waited for Jakob to find ‘the one’.” I knew as soon as I saw you.”

  She studied him. “So that’s why you’ve done all of this. Revenge for Padme cheating on you?”

  Gregor smiled coldly. “Not just that. Jakob, by betraying me, by driving Padme away from me, made me do something I never thought I was capable of. Jakob took her love, but I took her life. I sobbed as I stabbed her to death; my heart broke.”

  Quilla shivered, and Gregor smiled. She shook her head, frowning. “Why didn’t you just kill me that night in the bar? You had me right there; you stuck that knife in my gut then walked away. You could have finished it then, left Flori, left Kit out of it.”

  “You don’t get it, do you?” He was angry now, and he got up off the bed and stalked around the room. “I had to have you … entirely, completely before I killed you. I had to make him suffer like I suffered. He made me kill her. He took her and threw her away. Now I get to take you away from him.”

  Quilla drew in a deep breath. “So, you are going to kill me then?”

  He stopped and stared at her for a long moment. “I don’t know yet, Quilla. Don’t make me do it.”

  She almost laughed. That’s all he was, a spoiled little boy who took no responsibility and whined about it. A damn crybaby toddler. It was at that moment that she stopped being afraid of Gregor Fisk and knew what she had to do now. She held her hand to him.

  “Come back to bed and show me how much you love me, Gregor.”

  For a moment, she thought he’d laugh in her face, but then he took her hand, climbing back on top of her and kissing her. Quilla made sure every part of her performed as she forced a genuine smile onto her face. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want, Gregor. How could I? I’m yours … just yours ...”

  Gregor grinned. “That’s right, beautiful, all mine ...”

  And he began to make love to her again. Quilla closed her eyes, mimicking ecstasy, but the whole time, thinking, thinking, thinking …

  She knew now she was his weakness, and how she would make him pay. For Hayley. For Flori. For Kit.

  And for herself.

  “Holy shit.” Carter read through the report again, looking up at Agent Kendrick. “This is all confirmed?”

  Kendrick nodded. “Every word. Gregor Fisk has form. His first girlfriend back in college, Sue-Lin Chang, was murdered, stabbed to death, gutted, practically. Fisk wasn’t even questioned, so powerful was his family.”

  “Was?”

  “They died in a car wreck, mother, father, and eldest son. Convenient, huh?”

  “Wow. Just wow. Anything else.”

  “Oh, yes.” Ali came in, looking excited. “Steve asked me to run a check on the first victim. Wealthy Chinese family in Seattle and guess what … they have a private snow cabin in the North Central Cascades up near Mazama.”

  Carter was on his feet. “Let’s get everyone together ...”

  “Already on it.
Let’s go.”

  Like everything in life, the moment came unexpectedly. Quilla was almost dropping from exhaustion; the physical strain the constant demands for sex placed on her was shattering. Gregor had made her go on top, riding him, and as she moved, he gazed up at her.

  “How come you wear your hair up so often now?”

  Quilla smiled. Because I’m hiding something, moron. “Just gets it out of the way.”

  “Let it down. I love the way it falls across your tits.”

  Quilla winced; she hated the coarseness of the word. “Really, you want it down?” Oh God … here it comes …

  Gregor nodded. “Take it down.”

  Your choice, asshole. For a moment, she went through her plan. Get him to the point of orgasm, take the sharp edge of the tile … she closed her eyes, increasing her thrust, hearing him moan. She went through her checklist. Clothes near to hand, tire iron to break the door down, grab his gun, put a bullet in his head … run …

  It was time. She drove herself on and on, hearing his groan, knowing he was near. “Gregor, grab my hips, help me take you in ...”

  Grinning, he did so, his fingers biting into her fleshy hips. She smiled and reached behind her to undo her hair, her fingers closing around the tile shard, feeling for the sharp edge, locking her grasp. Gregor grinned as her hair tumbled down over her breasts.

  “Christ, Quilla, you’re so fucking beau ...”

  Lightning quick, she slashed across his throat with the tile, using all of her strength. Blood, hot, sticky blood, spurted out and covered them both. Gregor clutched at the wound, his eyes wide, terrified, and furious.

  “Fucking bitch!” The curse was gargled out, full of venom.

  Quilla tipped herself off him and dove towards her clothes as Gregor rolled off the bed, his hand clamped at his throat. He came for her, grabbing her leg as she went for his gun. The pistol skittered out of reach as Gregor pulled her back to him, his fury all consuming, the adrenaline making him superhuman despite his injury. The tile had obviously not severed a major artery and Quilla cursed herself. Gregor forced her onto her back, his face set in a grim smile.