Saving Micah (Sequel to Conquering Jude)

by Dakota Trace

  Next to her Rena heard Ike’s fingers begin to drum against the table as she sipped on her diet cola. “This one was held in Atlanta at the Mansion on Peachtree. You reserved an entire floor for your…” Rena glanced at her smart phone, to double check the name. “…Fétichisme Épiques Extravagance?”

  Ike gave a snort – setting down her drink. A good thing too, Rena thought as the assassin burst out laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding me. People actually fall for your crap? Epic Fetish Extravaganza – reminds me of something I might have gone to the circus to see as a kid. A side show for sure. Come see the girl take on the donkey dick…you’ll never think of rode hard and put away wet in the same way again.”

  “Excuse me? There’s nothing wrong with the name of my parties. They’re very upscale – catering to the most elite clientele – such as your parents, Ms. Edmunds.” She gave Ike a condescending look before focusing on Rena as if the assassin was beneath her. Rena prayed Ike wouldn’t make good on her earlier threat. They needed that name. “I’m sorry to say, Ms. MacCallister, my business hinges on my discretion. While I can confirm Mr. Wasterston III was at our party at the Mansion on Peachtree – I believe he arrived by private plane since he was quite soused when he arrived – that’s all I can confirm.”

  Ike gave a smile which sent shivers down Rena’s back. It wasn’t nice nor was it friendly. She dabbed at the corner of her mouth – mimicking the woman’s earlier action. “Well, it’s like this, Fiala – you either help us, or I’m going to see to it you never hold another party again.”

  Fiala returned Ike’s cold smile. “India, your parents maybe powerful, but not that powerful.” Their food arrived and she paused until the waiter left. “You weren’t the only one who did their homework before our meeting. I’m nothing if not thorough. You haven’t spoken with them in years.” She used her spoon to loosen a section of her grapefruit. “And as far as you, Miss Rena MacCallister – you’ve never been married. You come from a blue collar family in New York which still struggles to make ends meet. After spending eight years in the military as an MP, you left it behind to join the private sector. Then you abandoned your great job in New York to follow your pregnant sister to Chicago. I’ll have to commend you – it’s not often one sees children who still send money home to their folks in this day and age. It’s quite quaint. In fact it’s why I agreed to this meeting. What would a lowly security guard and an assassin for hire want with me?”

  Now Rena was fuming. She wasn’t ashamed of her family, or the fact she took care of her folks. But despite her anger, she was expecting the woman next to her to explode. And I really don’t like the way she’s smiling – it’s creepy.

  “A name.” Ike reached into her satchel pulling out a sheaf of photos. Opening the packet, she pulled out a grainy picture they’d gotten from Mistress B.B. They were security shots taken at the club. While the woman’s face was obscured by her hair, the large man’s profile was visible. “These two attacked a man and left him for dead…” Ike drew out two more photos taken by the police of Micah’s injuries and placed them on the table. Rena’s stomach heaved. Even as versed as she was in the BDSM world, what had been done to her friend wasn’t pretty – it was abuse. “…and if you don’t want these plastered all over the local news in connection with your precious name, you’ll give me the names I want.”

  Fiala set her spoon down, barely glancing at the disturbing photos. “You can’t prove I had anything to do with what happened to that young man, and if you do go to the media, I’ll simply play the genteel southern lady to the hilt. They’ll never believe I would have anything to do with such tawdry acts.”

  Ike pulled out two final photos. It was all Rena could do to contain her smile, the assassin was ingenious. “Because if you don’t, this is what I’m going to do to the next place you think to have one of your precious parties. And I’ll keep doing it until you either give me the name or your clients head to the hills. Who’s going to come to a party when there’s a chance they’ll be blown to smithereens?”

  “You’re bluffing. You won’t risk it. There’d be evidence left behind and you’d get caught. This isn’t South America where the government will turn a blind eye.”

  “You think I’m bluffing? Not in this lifetime.” She tossed the final picture at woman.

  Fiala’s face went pale as she dropped the picture. “My baby – what have you done to her?”

  “Nothing yet. But if you don’t give me what I want in the next thirty seconds, I’m going to text my team and your precious vintage muscle car will be history – blown sky high.” Ike leaned forward. “And I’m so good, I won’t get caught, Ms. Svoboda. So why not make it easy on yourself and just give me the name?”

  With a trembling hand, Fiala lifted the security photo. “I can’t tell who the woman is. Her face isn’t clear, but the young man with her is the son of a security guru in New Orleans. Lenard or Leon…” she shook her head. “I’m sorry I’m not certain on his name. He’s only been coming to our parties the past couple of times I’ve held events in Atlanta. He was vouched for by one of my regular clients, Raymond Fitzgerald. Let me get you his address. He lives here in Birmingham. He supposedly went to college with Ray. One of the only reasons I allowed this man in without my normal security background check.” A bitter smile crossed her face. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have taken Ray at his word.”

  “Then I guess we’ll have to be paying Raymond a visit.” Ike glared at her. “Be sure to tell him he’d better not try any of your evasive tactics. He’ll give me the name or I’ll make him wish he’d never met his friend.”

  Pulling her cell out, the Fiala made a brief call. “Cindy, it’s Fiala. I need you to text me Raymond Fitzgerald’s home phone number and address. Then inform him India Edmunds will be stopping by to talk to him about club business. He’s free to talk to her.” She paused. “Thank you, dear. I’ll be in later to go over the details of next week’s party.” Closing the phone, she set it down on the table with a shaky hand. “Now will you please call off your team? While it may not seem to be much more than a vintage car, it was the last thing my late husband gave to me and it has great sentimental value.”

  Ike stood awkwardly, grabbing the muffin she’d ordered. “If this Raymond pans out, I’ll call it off – if not then, say good-bye to your baby.”

  Snagging her coffee, Rena mourned the stack of pancakes and fresh fruit she hadn’t had a chance to eat. But I’ll be damned if I leave my coffee behind. The maître ’de tried to stop them as they left, but drew up short when Ike gave him the evil eye allowing them to exit quietly. Evidently he doesn’t want to tangle with her any more than I do. I’m gonna kick your ass when I get back, Jackson Levough.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The pounding on his door, followed by his father’s booming voice, sent waves of dread through Leland. Slowly standing, he winced at the sore state of his back. He’d barely gotten his mistress off the required times the day before, but she still had raked his shoulders raw with her acrylic nails. His nuts tingled in remembrance. After muting the program running on his computer, he padded over to the door in his bare feet, to open the door to his carriage house apartment. Standing on the landing above the gleaming luxury cars parked below was his father wearing his normal pin-striped three-piece business suit. It was obvious he was on his way out – to work more than likely. Now what the hell does he want?

  “Father?”

  Shouldering his way into the room, Russell scowled at the messy room. Piles of dirty laundry covered every surface, a heap of pizza boxes balanced precariously on the scarred coffee table next to his laptop, and the pièce de résistance was his ever growing mound of beer cans in the corner. “You’re such a pig, Leland. Your mother would have a fit if she came up here and saw this.”

  He shrugged. “I’ll clean it up eventually.” Listening to the sound of fan engaging on his laptop in the behind him, Leland shifted. He needed to get his dad out of here. “Why are you here?”
<
br />   Russell dragged a hand through his hair. “I just got a call from Raymond Fitzgerald – looking for you. Have you been doing something I should be aware of?”

  Panic built in Leland’s chest. Stay cool – he doesn’t know anything. “No, Father. He’s probably just trying to get ahold of me about another party.”

  Folding his arms over his chest, his dad grunted. “What kind of party?”

  “Well…it’s probably one of the Mistress of Sin’s gatherings. She coordinates get-togethers for people who are into kink…”

  “Enough!” Drawing his hand across his throat, the elder Lacroix seethed with fury. “You and that BDSM shit have got to stop. Your mother has been waiting for nearly ten years for you to settle down and give her some grandbabies to love on. You can’t do so with that slut.”

  Clenching his fists, Leland fought to control himself. “She’s not a slut. Just because you don’t understand how BDSM works doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with…”

  He was cut off again. “I don’t care what it means. Priscilla Bardot is not acceptable. Her parents disowned her because of her wild ways. Your mother has planned a luncheon with a selection of prospective brides for you this Saturday – you will be there and you will be civil or I will cut you completely off. Not only will you be homeless but jobless as well. Do you understand?”

  Nodding, Leland lied through his teeth. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.” His father stalked out of the apartment, then slammed the door behind him.

  “Asshole.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he flopped back down into the scarred recliner before reaching for his laptop. Clicking a series of keys, he unmuted the voice analyzing program. His father thought he was so smart but Leland was so much smarter.

  Disguising his one-of-a-kind software as an automated dialer for a political survey organization, he’d gotten voice samples of every phone number listed on Olivia’s phone logs. After eliminating all the male samples, his baby was running a comparison test of the female ones against taped recordings from Olivia’s. He was taking a chance. His only hope was if one particular female voice on the machine was Olivia’s and his gamble paid off. When the next voice sample loaded, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. To the naked ear, he’d have sworn it was the same husky concerto on his base sample.

  “You’ve reached 312-555-2801. I’m not available to take your call, please leave a message at the tone and I’ll get back to you soon as possible.”

  Several seconds later the computer beeped before flashing the results. A 99.8 percent match.

  “Yes!” Leland pumped the air with his fist before closing the laptop. He had to go and tell his mistress the good news. Maybe she’ll even reward me for finding the number. “I’ve got you now, bitch!” Slipping his jacket on, he forced his feet into canvas deck shoes without socks, before grabbing his keys, laptop and the last of the twelve pack in his fridge. If this wasn’t a cause to celebrate he didn’t know what was. He was so close to finding them he could taste it. He just had to wait for her to use her phone again.

  * * * *

  Pacing the short hallway between the room she shared with Jude and the room Micah had taken, Olivia was ready to strangle Micah. I can’t believe he did this to me. Oh so close, but only to be left hanging. After eating her pussy to a mind-blowing orgasm, the obstinate man had done nothing more than watch her and Jude. She’d even swallowed her pride to beg and plead for him to let her touch him, but he refused – keeping his distance - claiming he wasn’t ready for more. It was enough to make her scream, even though she’d understood why. What she hadn’t expected was him to return to his room when the scene was over. Her hope he’d crawl into bed with them afterwards had been crushed by a slow shake of his head. It had hurt when he’d left, closing the door behind him. What the hell do I need to do to get through to him I’m different than the horrible bitch who hurt him?

  When she paced back by the open doorway, Jude, using one muscular arm, pulled her right off her feet to carry her back into their room. “What the hell are you doing?” She struggled against his hold.

  “Shh, you’re driving me crazy with all this pacing, Mistress.” He pressed his mouth against her temple. “You’ve been stalking up and down the hall for the past two hours. I’ve missed holding you. Our bed is lonely without you.” He sat down on the bed, propped against the headboard, holding her close against his wide chest until she slumped with a sigh. She really should take him to task for his brazenness, but she found herself weakening when he cuddled her this way.

  Jude was a very tactile person and going without touching was unbearable for him. Only during scenes did he manage to keep his hands to himself. Otherwise throughout the day, it wasn’t uncommon for him to place a hand on her shoulder, brush against her, press a quick kiss on her temple, or give her a gentle squeeze. As long as it wasn’t a sexual overture she let it slide – knowing how he craved the physical contact with her.

  Relaxing in his arms, she pondered about how to tackle the new problem Micah had presented her with. During the night she’d seen him submit to Jude without a problem, but it stung he still resisted acting on his natural submissive urges with her. He’d played the tease, fondling his cock while Jude drove her insane. Other than the one round of oral sex, he hadn’t touched her again – choosing instead to watch, to torment her with the sight of his dark hand stroking up and down his thick length while he coaxed his body’s release with help from Jude. He responded beautifully to pet’s commands. It made her pussy wet just thinking about how one order from Jude’s luscious lips had Micah pinching his nipples with glorious results. He’d come without permission but hadn’t flinched when Jude lightly swatted him on the ass with her flogger.

  “He made progress, Mistress.” Jude whispered into her hair. “I know you were hoping for more, but at least last night proved he hasn’t turned his back completely on submission.”

  She nodded, her eyes stinging with tears. “I know. It hurts though. I love him. What happens if he never trusts me again?” Her frustration and anger flared. “If I could get my hands on that bitch I’d kill her. She abused him, made him afraid and it’s not acceptable. You better hope to God Ike finds her first or she’s going to wish she never coveted what was mine.”

  “I know, Mistress. It’s inexcusable.” He pulled the covers back up around them. “It’s still early, why don’t you snuggle with me and try to catch a few z’s? Ethan will be here in a few hours to update us on the situation.”

  She nodded. “Just promise me, pet, you won’t leave me too – I have a feeling the situation is going to become worse before it gets better.”

  A squeal escaped her as he rolled her under him. Hovering over her, he scowled down at her. “Now why would you think I’d leave you?” He rubbed his thumb across her cheek.

  “I…you’re the first man who hasn’t left me, Jude. My parents were killed in an auto accident when I was ten. Human Rights – that’s Croatia’s child protection agency, sent me to live with my mother’s younger sister. Unfortunately she had a daughter who was several years younger than me who was insanely jealous. You’ve met Sveltana.”

  His hiss didn’t surprise her after what her cousin had done in the name of greed. Jude would never forgive the woman’s betrayal – even if she had been the one to help him accept his submissive nature. She’d allowed another man to beat Micah as a message to Olivia. Judging by the look on his face, she was glad the bitch was behind bars. She didn’t want her pet to end up in jail.

  “Anyway, it wasn’t long before I was back out on the street.” A sob escaped her at the memory of what happened next. “I was only twelve, but by then I thought I could take care of myself. I ended being taken in by an older boy – he was all of twenty-one but I was foolish and young enough to fall for him…” She forced a lightness she didn’t feel into her tone. “Twelve and so full of puppy love. To me Ronnie could do no wrong. He was dashing, daring and just a bit wild. From him I learned how to pick
pockets to survive. It was him and me against the world. I felt safe for the first time since my parents died.” She wanted nothing more than to hide at the memory of the young fool she’d been, but decided brazening it out would be best. “What an idiot I was. My beloved Ronnie sold me to pay off a debt he had to some Russian thugs. He fixed my favorite soup – vipava - a bean, sausage and potato soup native to my homeland. We couldn’t afford a lot of meat, but he’d splurged on some salted pork. For the first time in a long while I went to bed with a full belly, only to wake up several days later on a train to St. Petersburg. He drugged me.”

  “And that’s why you hate taking meds – because a boy who you thought you loved drugged and sold you into slavery?” He went pale under his tan. “Dear Lord. Micah and I would’ve never forced you to take the pills if we’d known…”

  “You didn’t slip them to me in my food like he did.” She pulled on her wrists, loving when he automatically released them. “You may have been a bit underhanded about it, but I took them willingly in the end.”

  He relaxed over her. “Thank God for that. But something tells me your trip to Russia wasn’t the end of things.”