by Dakota Trace
“I won’t take them,” Jude warned her as the screen door snapped shut behind Micah. “I can’t protect both of you if I’m doped up and out of my mind on drugs.”
“Jude Anthony Larson, if you don’t take them, I’ll personally shove them up your ass.”
“Whoa…talk about kinky.” Ethan walked up with a Ziploc baggie of ice.
Jude flushed and took the ice from him. “Don’t even go there, White Hawk.”
“Well what do you expect? I come back out here to hear your old lady swearing about shoving something up your ass…I can’t help but go there.”
Olivia spun on the man, her hands landing on her hips. “What the hell happened out here?”
Ethan’s eyes widened. “We, ah…we were…”
“Goofing around when you shouldn’t have been?” She tapped her foot. “And why the hell were you doing it at the butt crack of dawn when other normal people would still be in bed?”
Ethan blinked before he doing some obvious back pedaling. “He started it…” he pointed a finger at Jude.
Behind her, Jude started cussing at his friend. “The hell I fucking did. You were the one who decided it was a good idea to take an early morning run.”
Olivia threw her hands up in the air, already exasperated by both chest-pounding idiots. “Both of you shut up! Where the hell is Micah?” She spun looking for her other sub.
“Right here.” Micah slowly made his way back out to the porch carrying the vial of meds and a large glass of water. Even though he still looked battered and bruised, she was pleased to see he was moving about more easily.
“Thank you.” She took the glass and pills from him. Turning to Jude, she arched her brow at him. “Are you going to be good and take these, or am I going to have to get mean with you?”
He gave her a nervous look. She knew he was weighing his options as he always did when it came to her safely. She accepted his need to protect but she also would continue to be the dominant one in their relationship. It usually wasn’t a problem until something like this came up and his need to obey clashed with his deeply seated protective urges.
“Can we…” he started to speak – to negotiate.
“There’ll be no negotiation, pet. If you don’t take these you won’t be able to walk later.”
She nearly jumped out of her skin when Ethan came to stand beside her. “Whoa, you told me it wasn’t that bad, Dickens. Is what she’s saying true?” Gone was the smart-assed old army buddy she’d been introduced to. In his place was what she could only assume was the hard-ass Army Ranger he’d been.
“Fuck.” Jude muttered, looking away from them.
“Then it is. That does it.” Ethan looked down at the pills she held in her hand. “May I?”
She nodded. While she could’ve eventually got them into his system by badgering him until he took them, she had a feeling Ethan could achieve the same thing faster. He took two of the small white pills and the glass of juice from her. He walked over to Jude. “Take them.”
Jude squared off with him. “Go to hell.”
“So you’re gonna sit out here all day in pain because why?” Ethan set the cup down. “Explain it to me.”
“Who’s gonna watch after them if I’m loopier than hell from the drugs? Not you. You have to go to work and…”
Ethan shook his head and made a disgruntled noise in his throat. “Is that all? Well, let me fix that for you.” He yanked his phone off its clip, flipped it open and punched a few numbers. A few moments later he spoke into it. “Hey, Kathy, it’s Ethan. Something came up and I need to take a personal day.” He listened for a moment. “Thanks, hun, you’re a doll.” Then he laughed. “No, don’t tell Maria what I said. She’ll think I’m sweet on you.” Another pause. “Okay, tell Motormouth he can be on the desk but if he fucks up again, I’m serious about sticking him on KP duty for the next two weeks. That HIPAA privacy shit is serious.” He sighed. “I’ll call Mr. Lacroix tomorrow about the new systems. Tell his boy to get the hell out of my office.”
Olivia gave a sigh of relief when Ethan disconnected his cell. “Okay, I’ve got the day off, and I’ll hang out and protect your asses. Now take the damn meds.” He held out the pills to Jude.
Jude slowly reached for them. “Thanks, White Hawk.”
Olivia could see Ethan’s expression softening. “It’s no problem. You’d do the same for me.” He handed the glass to Jude. “Now take these, or I’ll call your partner and have him come down.”
Jude narrowed his eyes. “The hell you will. Jackson has his hands full between the business and Rena.” He popped the pills into his mouth and washed them down with a huge gulp of juice. After seeing he’d taken the pills, Olivia shivered. She was going back inside. If the guys wanted to freeze their nuts off they could – but she was smarter than that. She held her hand out to Micah, who until that moment had stayed in the shadows, watching the whole exchange. He shifted before hesitantly lifting his hand. When she reached for it however, he dropped it and his gaze darted away, before shuffling inside. . She vaguely heard the men’s words as she followed.
“Who’s that…”
“A female sub who saved his ass but will have nothing to do with him now.”
She could hear speculation in Ethan’s voice. “Oh, do tell? Playboy finally found a woman who can resist his charms…”
* * * *
“I’m sorry, Mistress, please!” Leland cowered in front of his Mistress, begging for mercy. She gave him none. He arched away as agony streaked across his back as she laid into it again with the heavy whip she used for punishment. It had thrilled him to no end to see her use it on Micah, but he hated being on the receiving end of it. It hurt like a bitch with its weighted tip.
The damp feel of her personal dungeon’s floor radiated through his knees until he felt frozen all the way through, except for the fires burning across his back.
“It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t expect them to whisk him away.”
“It doesn’t matter. You should’ve planned for all possibilities.” She struck him again. He sobbed as fresh blood ran down his spine. He cowered lower to the floor as anger built inside him with every lash. He’d done everything he could to find the man. He’d even snuck into the Head of Security’s office hoping to find some footage or anything telling him where they’d taken the man, but the nosy secretary had chased him out. It was Micah’s fault for leaving…and ooohhh would he make him pay for this. The black man’s ass would bleed for every stroke he took. He sank into a heap when the blows suddenly ceased.
“Now, you’ll go clean yourself up, Leland, and you’ll find him for me, or this punishment will look like a cakewalk. Go to his apartment and see if you can find a clue about where the bitch took him. It’s time she realized Micah Beaumont is mine.”
Scrambling to his knees, he nodded. “Yes, Mistress.”
Chapter Ten
Sampson shifted restlessly. He’d been crouched under the stand of crape myrtle trees across from the Café Giovanni for the past two hours. Evidently Wasterson was taking his sweet ass time having dinner with Landry. He’d watched them go in nearly an hour and a half ago, but had decided after seeing the man’s private security guards flanking him, it’d be easier to corner the man after he took out the guards.
He felt a pang of regret at the idea but realized after attempting to speak with the man earlier and being rebuffed, Jason Wasterson III was a spoiled brat and had to do everything the hard way. It wasn’t that Sampson wasn’t fond of doing things the hard way on occasion – in fact he relished dishing out pain to those who deserved it. It was the idea the idiot had drawn his unsuspecting guards into the situation which was bothering him.
He straightened as he saw the one of the men who’d accompanied Wasterson exit the restaurant. Probably fetching his master’s car. Crossing the busy street, he followed the man into the private lot nearby. Walking silently for a big man, another leftover habit from the uncle who’d taught him how to hunt across
the vast plains of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, he tracked his prey.
Standing with his back turned to Sampson as he unlocked the door to the luxury car, the guard never saw the huge fist clip him behind the ear. Catching the man easily with one arm, he grabbed the keys dangling from the guard’s fingers before they fell to the ground, Sampson thumbed the trunk release. It only took a moment to gently hoist the man inside the trunk.
“Sorry, buddy.” He closed the trunk after snapping off the emergency release cord on the trunk lid. It wouldn’t do to have the man open the trunk from the inside at an inopportune moment.
After adjusting the seat to accommodate his longer legs, Sampson drove the car to the front entrance of the restaurant. Moments later the back door opened and his prey slid in. As soon as the door shut, he hit the automatic locks on the car – locking the upstart third generation New Orleans’s royalty in and his other guard on the outside. At the sound, the man who looked to be in his early fifties looked up and his jaw dropped. Evidently he hadn’t thought Sampson would be as bold as to kidnap him in the middle of the day let alone right off the street in full view of the tourists flooding the French Quarter for Mardi Gras when he’d refused to meet with Brigit.
“You’re not Eric!” Jason Wasterson III accused before reaching for the door. “What the hell have you done with him?”
Ignoring the pounding of the second guard on the passenger door window, Sampson put the car into drive and pulled out into the heavy lunch crowd. “Relax, he’ll be fine. He’s just taking a nap in the trunk.” He smoothly accelerated, heading back towards Bête à Bon Dieu. He flicked on the radio. “So you might as well sit back and put your seat belt on, Wasterson. My Mistress would like to speak to you. I suggest you use this time to come up with an excuse as to why you refused to give her the information she requested. She’s not happy I had to come and fetch you.”
The pompous little prick in the backseat actually looked like he was going to piss himself. He tried to hide his fear. “I’m not her damn slave to come at her beck and call like you so obviously are. I don’t know where the bitch got her delusions of grandeur, but she’s not the queen of New Orleans. The worst she can do is revoke my membership at that pissant club of hers.”
A low growl built in Sampson’s throat. The man had a fucking death wish - and if it hadn’t been for Mistress’s order to bring him back, he’d have dumped him in the bayou and fuck the information he might have. “I’d watch your tongue, Mr. Wasterson, especially if you want to keep it. You don’t need it to tell her the Domme’s name.” He gave the man an evil grin. “Because Mistress had plenty of paper.”
The man wisely shut up and silence filled the car, other than the softly playing music. Honestly Sampson thought as he drove, it was much better that way.
It was less than a half hour later when he pulled up to Bête à Bon Dieu. Turning the engine off, he pocketed the keys before retrieving the idiot out of the backseat. He was tempted to club the man when he started to scream.
“Shut the fuck up or I’ll do it for you,” he threatened. Wisely, Jason took his advice and didn’t struggle as they moved up the walk. As they approached the club, Mistress Brigit appeared in the doorway.
“Take him to the Inquisition playroom, Sampson.”
“But…but…please…I…you can’t do this to me…” Jason tried to pull away from the hold Sampson had on him.
Brigit gave him a haughty look. “Then perhaps you should’ve come the first time I asked.”
The man began to scream. With a sigh, Sampson tapped him sharply on the chin. Catching the man in his arms, he met Brigit’s eyes. “Sorry, Mistress. I couldn’t let him scream his fool head off.”
She brushed the loose hair flowing over his shoulder, her gaze affectionate. “Of course not. Take him to the Inquisition room. Strap him to the wall. He’ll give me the answers I want or wish he was never born.”
* * * *
Sitting at his desk, Jackson Levough drummed his fingers on the polished surface as he wedged the phone between his ear and shoulder while waiting for the most defiant sub he knew to answer her damn phone. Across from his desk, Caelan Doherty lounged in a leather chair, with an intense look of concentration on his face. In his hands, he held an electronic tablet from which he was studying a list of possible suspects Mistress Brigit had just emailed him. It seemed she’d gotten only one thing out of the man who’d given Micah’s attacker a guest pass to the club. While the drunken fool couldn’t remember who’d invited him, he still had the email invitation. Jackson had been able to retrieve the long list of the recipients who’d also received it, which he’d split with Caelan.
Covering the mouthpiece of the phone, Jackson prodded his friend and fellow Dom.
“Any luck with yours yet?”
Caelan glanced up, his frustration evident as he sighed. “No, damneigh, this is impossible. Most of the emails on this list are using IPs located in Georgia and Alabama, not New Orleans where the party took place. Most of them are anonymous email accounts, so I’ve narrowed it down to the person who organized the party…a Madame Svoboda – a local Birmingham woman who fancies herself as...” Caelan cocked his head. “…‘the Proprietress to the World of Sin’?” He looked up at Jackson. “What the hell has this woman been smoking?”
Jackson’s brow furrowed. It wasn’t uncommon for people to travel for a party, but across two states for one arranged by some “Proprietress to the World of Sin?” What the fuck was going on down there?
In his ear, Rena’s voicemail picked up once again. This was the third time he’d attempted to locate her. It had been three hours since he’d last seen her at the end of her shift. Now he wanted to see if she’d help him with this mess. She was a whiz with computers. He sighed before leaving a message for her to call him then hung the phone up. He turned his focus back to Caelan.
“You’re kidding me, right? You just made that shit up.”
Caelan shook his head, before tossing the tablet on the desk. “Take a look for yourself.” He stood and began to pace. “This is ridiculous – a woman with delusions of grandeur, a maniac Domme who’s abusing subs, and Jude and Olivia mixed up in the center of it. What a fucked up mess. If Master Alastair were here, he’d advise a thorough cleaning of the house – Mardi Gras or not.” He raked a hand through his hair. “But we can’t do that from Chicago. I say we say fuck it and go down there.”
Jackson scanned the tablet before squeezing the bridge of his nose in vain hopes of staving off the headache brewing behind his eyes. “But if we show up, both Jude and Olivia are going to go through the roof.”
“I know.” Caelan stopped in front of the window overlooking Lake Michigan. “Why the hell they are being so stubborn about this? They’re so far in over their heads, I’ve thought about reneging on my promise to Olivia and calling in Master Alastair to deal with the whole situation. He’s got connections with several of the clubs down south.”
Joining Caelan at the window, Jackson grunted. “Then she won’t speak to you for months and Jude will be a growly bastard to work with because of it. Why don’t we do one better?”
Caelan glanced over at him. “Like what?”
“Now that she’s reunited her man with his kids, Ike’s probably looking for her next adventure. Why don’t we give her a call?”
Caelan stiffened. “Are you kidding me? The woman hates me.”
Jackson groaned. He should’ve realized Caelan would react this way. The animosity between his new friend and the woman assassin for hire was legendary. There was still talk of it at the club. India Edmunds, a.k.a. Ike, had left her mark on Olivia’s during her brief stay before Christmas. “Come on, man, I know she rubbed you the wrong way last month when she and her crew were up here, but this important.”
“That’s an understatement, Jackson,” Caelan growled before slapping his hand on the window frame. “If she would’ve pushed any harder, I’d have taken her over my knee – your friendship be damned. The woman ha
s a mouth that just won’t quit, and one day she’s going to run into someone who doesn’t have the self-control I have.”
“That’ll be the day!” Jackson muttered under his breath. “Look, she’d be perfect for this job even though you don’t get along with her. She’s the type of person we need to infiltrate the kinky lifestyle down there. She can get answers.”
“But by what means, Jackson? This isn’t a situation she can go in shooting or blowing shit up. This will take finesse. Besides, even if I agree to this cockamamie idea, do you honestly think she’d take an assignment like this?”
Jackson wanted to punch Caelan. “For fuck’s sake, she’d be tracking down a deranged woman who not only attacked Micah once, but had the balls to do it again at a hospital of all places – where any Joe Blow, Dick or Harry could walk in. You don’t think this is going to interest her? She might not be part of the scene, but she’s not going to tolerate someone hurting a friend of Jude’s.”