Aaron had marched in, hugged him, planted himself in the guest chair, and after a roundabout of conversation, dropped a bombshell.
His brother spread his hands. “Perry quit. We needed someone. It’s easier to replace admin support than a good PI. And Cadence had a license.”
That his wife had gotten a PI license on the sly and never once mentioned it burned his ass. She had known he would disapprove of her working as a detective. She’d disobeyed his wishes, lied by omission, and endangered her safety. They had driven to work, and she had said nothing. He planned to turn her cute little behind cherry red.
“That doesn’t matter,” Rahm glared at Cadence’s co-conspirator. “She is not working as a private investigator. Sitting alone in her car in strange neighborhoods?” Rahm shook his head. “Surveillance isn’t safe for a female.” He scowled. “People contract our services for a reason. Not everyone we track or interview is a model citizen.”
He shuddered when he contemplated the atrocities committed against vulnerable women. True, they lived in a different country with different values and they weren’t in war zone, but being a PI was still dangerous. The only thing that had made his deployment and separation from Cadence bearable was the knowledge she was home safe and sound. He could not stand it if any harm befell her.
“Jerrilyn is a woman,” Aaron pointed out, naming one of their top detectives.
“A, Jerrilyn is a former police officer. B, she knows how to kick ass. And C, Jerrilyn is not my wife.”
“Cadence is a good PI, Rahm. She has a way with people. They trust her. They’ll tell her shit they won’t tell you or me. Or even Jerrilyn.”
“I don’t care. As of today, Cadence is officially fired.”
“Well, you’re going to have to tell her.”
“Oh, I’ll tell her. You can count on it.” Anger hardened his tone.
“Rahm…” Aaron shifted in the chair, uncrossed his legs. “Don’t be too hard on her. I’m partly responsible. If you want to blame someone, blame me. She would not have worked as a detective if I hadn’t allowed it.”
“I’m aware of your culpability.” Rahm speared his brother with his gaze. “But Cadence knew full well what I considered appropriate and chose the opposite. And then didn’t tell me.”
Rahm picked up the phone. “Does she even sit up front anymore?”
His brother shook his head. “She’s using Perry’s old office. Extension 721. Marcia is the new girl who took her place as admin/bookkeeper. She comes in around nine—”
Rahm cut him off with another glare and jabbed in the extension. Her phone rang three times. Cadence would know from the lighted console the call originated from inside. On the fourth ring, she picked up. “Yes?” She sounded hesitant, worried. As she should be.
“Come to my office, please,” he said, and hung up.
Aaron stood up. “I’d better get back to work.” He reached the door and hesitated, peered over his shoulder. “Go easy on—”
Aaron had always been Cadence’s champion, had adopted her as his little sister, and had rushed to her defense when she ran afoul of Rahm’s rules and expectations. “This is between me and Cadence. Stay out of it.”
Aaron sighed. “All right.”
****
Cadence met Aaron as he exited Rahm’s office. Her brother-in-law pressed his lips together. Her stomach and butt cheeks clenched. “You told him?”
“Hell, Cadence! I assumed he already knew.”
“I tried to tell him.” All weekend between bouts of lovemaking she’d wracked her brain for the right words, the right spin, but had come up with nothing. She twisted her hands. “Is he mad?”
“What do you think?” He looked at her and shook his head.
She wet her lips. “I guess I’d better face the music.” Taking a deep breath, she pushed into Rahm’s office. The door snicked shut. The click of doom, she thought.
Her heart and stomach fluttered in the way they always did when she had to confront a very pissed off Rahm. And he was. Very pissed off. She could tell from the tilt of his head, the set of his jaw.
“Lock the door,” he said.
After she turned the deadbolt, he stood and rounded the desk. “Is there something you want to say to me?” he asked.
“I had planned to tell you!” she said. Her knees knocked together, but she strove for a good show by stomping to the guest chair and plopping her butt into it. Then wished she hadn’t because now he towered over her, and the small metal plug he’d inserted in her ass before they’d left for work didn’t seem all that tiny. She shifted onto one hip.
He leaned against his desk and crossed his arms. “Tell me what?”
He knew. And she knew he knew, so why did a verbal confession seem to carry so much more weight? Why couldn’t they take their knowledge and fly away like pigs?
Because that wasn’t Rahm’s way. He insisted on a full accounting. Rahm’s way or the highway. Rahm’s way or her ass.
No, Rahm’s way and her ass. He would spank her over this. And it wouldn’t be a pretty-please-spank-me-again-it-hurts-so-good kind of paddling. But a wailing-begging-sleep-on-her-stomach-afterwards spanking.
“I got my private investigator’s license,” she said, to emphasize her qualifications. “And I’ve been working as a PI.” Are you happy now?
“What you did is so wrong on so many counts.” His eyes flashed. “What hurts the most is that you lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie to you! I merely didn’t tell you right away.”
“You didn’t tell me at all. Aaron did.”
“You were stationed in Afghanistan! I didn’t think that was the time or place to break the news. You had enough to worry about.”
“So you admit there was cause for me to worry.”
“You’re twisting my words. I knew you wouldn’t like it.” Shit. That didn’t sound good either.
Instead of a military man slash private eye, Rahm should have been a cop or a prosecuting attorney. Everything she said could and would be used against her. She should have taken the fifth. But remaining silent had gotten her into this mess. That and defying him in the first place.
She resisted the urge to wring her hands, but contracted her glutes instead. Hardness inside. Sore already and she hadn’t worn the plug for very long. Her passage that once had welcomed penetration with eager surrender, now protested the intrusion. A metaphor for Rahm’s return, she realized. She would need a period of transition before she could accept what used to be a comfortable routine. Rahm was a born leader; she a natural follower. She trusted him completely. It made sense for him to head their family. Domestic discipline suited her like chocolate and strawberries, like a hand in a glove. Or a plug in her ass. Once she got used to it again. In his absence, changes had occurred. Some of which she wouldn’t mind keeping. Like her job.
She peered at him. “I enjoy investigations. I like helping people. It’s exciting.”
He twisted mouth. “Most people wouldn’t consider a stakeout exciting.”
“It’s not—it’s boring to sit and do nothing for hours. But it’s not dangerous.” Score a point for me. She jutted out her chin.
“It’s boring until the situation shifts and becomes dangerous.”
“I’ve never been in trouble or been threatened.”
“And you never will be. I should fire you, but I won’t. If you want to work here, you can take a desk job. You can assist the other agents with internet research, obtaining records, making phone calls.”
Assist. Desk job? If she’d wanted that, she could have stayed an admin assistant, but that wasn’t why she’d obtained her license. Anger ignited. His country had called him, and he’d performed his duty. She didn’t fault him for that. But he had left, and she’d been forced to handle everything solo: parenting their son, managing the finances, tending to household repairs, and being alone. She was giddy-happy to have him back, but where did he get off thinking he could dictate to her now?
She le
aped to her feet. “That’s not acceptable to me. I want to work in the field. Simmons isn’t the only private detective agency. Maybe I’ll go work for somebody else.”
The air sizzled. “Is that so?” he asked quietly.
She didn’t mean it. She would never defy him that way, but he had to learn she wasn’t a pushover. Cadence wet her lips as courage and its foolish cousin, bravado, deserted her. Poke the sleeping tiger with a stick, why don’t you?
He unfolded his crossed arms. “Instead of sharing your feelings, you sneaked behind my back and presented me with a fait accompli.”
“What good would sharing my feelings have done? You still would have said no.”
“Yes, but we would have talked this out. You agreed that when you and I differed, I would have the final say. Do you think you should be able to pick and choose which rules you should follow?”
Sometimes, yeah, she did. “No,” she replied.
“Don’t you think there should be consequences for disobedience?”
In general, yes. Did she wish she could avoid those consequences, hell, yes! “I guess,” she muttered mutinously. She glanced at his face. He arched his eyebrows. Don’t make it worse for yourself. “I mean, yes, Rahm,” she amended in a more respectful tone.
He unlocked a drawer in his desk and extracted a paddle.
“Here?” Cadence squeaked.
He pulled an armless wooden chair away from the small round meeting table adjacent to his desk and sat. “Lower your pants.”
“Rahm, please. Couldn’t we at least wait until tonight? At home?”
“I didn’t choose the time or venue, Cadence, you did.”
She eyed the locked door.
“The walls are thick. No one will hear.”
Her eyes smarted with tears as she undid her pants. She enjoyed funishment as much as the next girl, but ass-blistering discipline? Hated it. She’d burn every one of his paddles if she could get away with it. Rahm approached discipline the same way he did everything else in his life—decisively, swiftly. He kept a number of paddles handy so he could spank on the spot. But she hadn’t known about the one in his desk. She had not missed the discipline spankings while he’d been away. Not one bit.
But she knew when she could push him, and when she couldn’t. She dropped her pants.
“Panties, too.”
Her lip quivered. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. But she would. She did every time.
Her clothing puddled around her ankles, she shuffled to Rahm, and lay over his lap. She braced her palms on the floor, her toes on the other side. Blood rushed to her head.
Rahm raised one leg and tucked the paddle underneath him. His thighs were hard beneath her tumbling stomach. This wasn’t the homecoming she’d expected, but she should have. What had possessed her to try to sneak something past him?
Pain splintered through her with the first smack. She gasped with the shock of it. With rapid strikes, he laid three more spanks to the same spot. Tears of pain, humiliation, and anger burned her eyes. Why did Rahm always get his way?
After raining a series of smacks, he picked up the paddle.
“Do you h-have to use that?”
“Yes, Cadence, I do.”
She cried out when hard wood connected with her sensitive flesh. She clenched her buttocks instinctively against the pain, gripping the foreign invader inside.
Rahm paddled her with the same precision that he’d used with the hand spanking. He did not go easy, but used the implement to ignite flames across her ass.
Crack and wail.
Crack and wail.
Had the spankings always been this fierce? Probably, but time had muted memories. Everything old was new again. When at last he ceased, her ass felt scorched like it had the time she’d worn a thong bikini and had fallen asleep while sunbathing. After she had healed, he had burned her ass with a spanking. Violating his safety rules pretty much guaranteed an ass-toasting.
He set her onto her feet. Her clothing wrapped around her ankles, her shoulders shook with sobs, and her ass throbbed. He gathered her into his arms, and pressed his lips to her ear. “Don’t you understand how much I worry about you?” Rahm said in a low voice.
“I k-know.”
“Anything could happen to a woman alone in a bad neighborhood.”
“B-but why can’t I do the job, but be careful?”
He stroked her back and hair. Her resentment hadn’t lessened an iota. Within herself Cadence remained rigid and unyielding, while outwardly she forced herself to relax against him so to not raise further discussion. He would not hesitate to spank her for sulking.
“This matter is not negotiable, Cadence.”
He held her until her tears dwindled to sniffles, then produced a tissue, wiped her face, and ordered her to blow. Cadence winced as she pulled up her panties and slacks, then turned to leave.
“You’d better fix your face before you go out there.”
She nodded and hobbled to his private bathroom. Her cosmetics bag was in her purse in her office—her old office—but she tore off some toilet paper and wiped away the mascara streaks. She hoped she could grab her stuff without anyone seeing her. She couldn’t bear to face anyone, not even Aaron.
Cadence bit her lip and unzipped her pants. She eased them and her panties off and twisted to view herself in the full-length mirror hung on the door. Her backside in blazed with color. Between her reddened cheeks, she could see the base of the uncomfortable stainless toy. She could remove it at noon, Rahm had said.
Tears welled anew, and she dashed them away with the back of her hand.
She pulled up her clothing.
Outside, she found her husband waiting. “Okay?” he asked and enveloped her in a gentle hug.
No, it wasn’t okay because it wasn’t fair! She wanted to stomp her feet and yell at him. Yes, they had a DD arrangement, but this was important to her, and wasn’t he supposed to tend to her needs? But she nodded against his shoulder. “I guess I may as well go home seeing how I no longer have a job,” she said, patting herself on the back for managing to keep the sullenness out of her voice.
“You can have a job. You just can’t work in the field.”
Chapter Three
Cadence jabbed at the treadmill panel to up the speed and raise the incline to get her legs and heart pumping. She glanced at Diane on the adjacent machine. If not for her workout clothes, her friend could have been going to a society luncheon. Not a hair dared to creep out of place, and her makeup appeared fresh and perfect, although a little heavier than normal. The towel draped around Diane’s neck to blot sweat and wipe off the machine was an unnecessary accessory. Diane did not sweat. Since high school they’d been BFFs, had been there for each other through thick and then. When Rahm went to Afghanistan, Cadence had cried buckets on Diane’s designer blouse covered shoulder. They’d been each other’s maids of honor. Diane didn’t act like one would expect a trust fund baby to behave. She was the sweetest, kindest person Cadence had ever met. Still, in the interest of cosmic fairness, shouldn’t someone filthy rich perspire a little?
Cadence poked at the panel to add a couple tenths to her speed. With Rahm back, she cooked more elaborate meals so she needed to exercise more than ever. Yep, she had plenty of time to cook since she wasn’t working. Cadence wiped the beads of moisture from her temple and adjusted her own well-used towel around her neck.
“You’re quiet today,” Cadence glanced at Diane. Her vivacious friend hadn’t said more than a dozen words since they had arrived at the gym.
Diane focused on the lighted track showing distance walked. “I’m…just thinking.”
A quiver in her voice made Cadence peer closer. She noticed a sallowness to Diane’s skin. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” Diane stared straight ahead. There it was. The quiver.
“Hey, this is me. “Cadence stopped her machine then her friend’s by jabbing at a button on the panel. “I repeat, are you all right?”
Diane s
hook her head and emitted a choking sound. “I think I want to hire you.”
“Hire me? Why? What’s wrong?” Cadence stared.
Beneath her makeup, dark circles ringed Diane’s eyes. “I want a divorce.”
Cadence’s jaw dropped. “Divorce?”
“Stephen is cheating on me.”
“Oh my God! How do you know?”
“Little things. He’s altered the way he dresses. We almost never have sex anymore, but when we do, it’s different. It’s like he’s learned some new moves.”
“Maybe that’s his way of spicing things up. Maybe he wants a change,” Cadence offered. She could understand that. She’d desired change too, but Rahm had vetoed it. Two weeks had passed since his homecoming, and she spent her days knocking around a house that seemed even emptier than it had before. She missed her PI job and lacked the motivation to find other employment. Cadence didn’t want to work as a bookkeeper or an office assistant anymore. She wanted to be a private detective, damnit!
“That’s what I told myself, but then I found credit card receipts in the car for lingerie I’d never received. Restaurant dinners for nights when Stephen was supposedly working. Flowers.” Diane gripped the arm of the treadmill.
Cadence covered her friend’s hand and squeezed. “Oh Di, I’m so sorry.”
“That’s why I need to hire you. To document he’s been unfaithful.”
Cadence shook her head. “It sounds like you have the proof you need.”
“Not for me. For the court.”
“You don’t have to prove infidelity. This is a no-fault state.”
Diane pressed her lips together. “I do because of the pre-nup I signed. Half my monthly trust fund allotment would go to alimony if Stephen and I divorced and I couldn’t prove cause.”
“Oh my gosh. Why did you sign such a thing?”
“I was young and in love and thought it would be forever. He was going to be a doctor. I didn’t think he’d ever need my money.” She averted her gaze. “Lately he’s been so nasty. I think he’s almost trying to force me into divorcing him.” Diane stared at her pristine designer walking shoes. “There’s another reason I want a divorce.”
Milestones Page 2