by Anthology
Lars stopped and stood up to every inch of his six-three height. Before he could say anything, the half-naked woman cried out, “Please!” then shrieked frantically, “Please, untie me! He won’t stop!”
Lars glared at the man. “Did she use her safeword?”
“She doesn’t need one,” he replied offhandedly. “Mind your own business, and get my drink.”
“I fucking knew it!” Cade growled as he rushed past Lars, not waiting for the man to respond; instead, he rushed to untie the woman who by now was crying hysterically. The man turned to leave.
The man frowned. “She’s my slave.”
Lars balled his fists and took a deep breath. The treatment of this woman and the words this man had used didn’t sit well with him.
“Untie her,” Lars said to Cade then turned back to the man, “This is my club. We have rules and the primary one involves guests’ safety. She doesn’t look comfortable. Now untie her or I’ll do it for you. After she’s safe, we’re going to my office to have a conversation with this lady. You better hope she doesn’t want to file a complaint.”
“You can’t hold me here! I know my rights,”
“You’re absolutely correct. I’ll call the cops now. I’ll let them hold you. Turn over your ID card. Now.” Lars held out his hand. There were a few cops on the Tampa PD who were members of the club’s Leathermen’s Chapter, and they had told Lars if he had any problems to call them directly, so making good on his threat wasn’t a problem. He had to talk to the woman involved to see if there had been anything out of bounds for her. The man handed over his card and Lars dug out his cell, found an officer’s number and tapped the icon.
“What’s up, Val?”
“I need to report a possible assault at 18003 Hunter’s Oak.”
“I’m on duty. I’ll be right there. Do you want me to call it in?
“I’m not sure yet.”
“Okay, I’ll call Tim for backup.”
“Thank you.”
Cade had returned and was standing behind the man. By the murderous look in his eyes, the woman had apparently talked.
“I suggest we go and wait in the office.”
“I’m not going,” the man said, picking up his bag.
“Oh yes, you are.”
Cade put a hand on the man’s shoulder. If this man made any sort of move he didn’t like, someone would be carrying this individual to the office. The man turned to look at Cade.
“Mister,” Lars cautioned, “I don’t want a scene, but that doesn’t mean I won’t make one. So you either walk to the office or my security will drag you there. Either way is fine with me.”
By the man’s expression, he didn’t like it but he went along with it. The security in this club was better than average. When the guests of this club walked in, Mac wanted them to be safe. Just the looks of some of the security staff were enough to keep people in line but there were others here who were just as capable of doing double duty. Two of his new bartenders were former Marines who’d just gotten out. So Lars was well on his way to accomplishing his primary task of ensuring this club was safe.
When they got to his office, he noticed the woman was nowhere around. He shot Cade a look from behind the man, and Cade nodded toward the adjoining room. It was a larger room where the staff took breaks and stored their gear. The man took a seat, and within a few minutes, Tampa police were in the office with them. After an interview, the woman decided not to press charges and was taken home by one of the officers. The man was escorted out the back door and to his car. His clearance to the club was immediately revoked.
While Officer Tim Murray wrote up some notes, he shook his head and said, “Some of these players are real assholes, and they’re the ones who give the lifestyle a bad rap.”
“Thanks for your help, man. I really appreciate it.”
“No worries, Val, call us anytime. Someone in the chapter is always on duty.”
“You guys handled that smooth and fast. I don’t think most of the guests out there knew anything was even happening.”
“Some of these people are very influential, and they need a place to feel secure and be themselves. I hate it when some asshole tries to ruin it.”
Officer Murray’s radio crackled, “This is Murray, I’ll grab your disturbance in Citrus Park. Can you get me back-up?”
“10-4,”
“Duty calls, man, just holler if you need anything else.”
“I will. Stay safe, Tim.”
The tall officer dropped his head in a silent seriously. “I’m a cop.”
“Then if you can’t be safe, be fucking deadly.”
“Roger that.”
Lars gave the paperwork on his desk some attention then decided to get up and do his rounds. As soon as he walked out of his office, he looked toward the bar.
Oh shit! You fucking idiot!
He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about Marianna. She was gone, and he felt like a complete and utter fool. When he reached the bar, he checked a few things and helped serve up a few drinks. When they had a moment, the bartender reached into his pocket and pulled out a napkin.
“The lady you were talking to left this for you.”
Unfolding the napkin, he read: Call me if you still want to talk, with her phone number. He carefully folded it back up and looked at his watch. It was almost eleven; instead of calling he decided to send a text message.
Sorry, that took longer than expected. Give me a shout when you get up in the morning.
Going back to his routine, the vibration of his phone in his back pocket surprised him. He looked at it, and his heart skipped a beat. Marianna. Before he could swipe the icon, the call dropped. Staring at his phone, he wondered if he should call her back.
Just do it, dumb shit. His finger trembled slightly as it hovered over her number on the screen.
“Hey, Val! I’ve got a problem. Do you have a sec?”
Lars closed his eyes and exhaled. He shoved his phone into his pocket and turned around, “What’s up?”
5
Marianna heard the phone vibrate next to her. She picked it up and read the text message. She wasn’t sure he’d call but he had, and she was excited and terrified at the same time. She wiggled into the couch as her nipples beaded to stiff points. It had been a long time since she’d had a good fuck, and the tall, brooding manager was every Domme’s hot, wet dream. She wanted the warmth of someone’s body, and Lars was just her type, big and raw. Until now, she hadn’t given physical lust a second thought, but the dark Lars Nielsen drew it out of her. She remembered seeing her Viking for the first time behind the bar and stopping in her tracks. She backed up a minute, he wasn’t hers, and for all she knew, he could have someone he was going home to at night. She didn’t dare ask Dessie or Mac, because she didn’t want the questions that would follow.
Still she couldn’t recall such a reaction to anyone at first glance like the one she’d had to Lars. At first, it frightened her, but as the days went by, she found herself thinking and fantasizing more and more about the man who didn’t partake at Mac’s club. So many questions and her own feelings puzzled her. As a natural investigator, she decided to visit to see if those reactions and questions had answers.
When she walked in and took a seat, she watched him go about his business in the day-to-day operations of the club. She’d even noticed a pattern in his movement. He would go from left to right, almost a zigzag pattern as he moved through the club. Mac had told her they’d been in the same Army unit. Was there something from his training ingrained in him to move a particular way? It almost felt like it. The images of Lars had burned themselves into her memory. She looked down at her phone and touched the phone number and watched the screen as it attempted a connection. Luc had been very particular in the way he moved, too.
Luc’s face flashed in her mind, and a twinge of guilt made her end the call before it could connect. That memory also made her put down the phone. What kind of damn game was she playing wi
th this man? With everything she’d started and had to finish, there was no way she could get involved with someone. She exhaled and slumped against the couch. This guy didn’t seem like the type who would like the head games she so enjoyed playing. He also didn’t put off the vibes of a submissive man.
Over time, she’d learned how to hone in on what sort of persuasion a person was. The different submissive types didn’t present in the same ways. Very alpha people could be submissive with the need to submit to a strong dominant. Her husband had been a prime example. As a cop in a very dangerous special unit, he was as alpha as they came. But she had been the dominant partner in their relationship, and it was something he’d recognized he wanted and needed. There were sublime subtleties strong submissives displayed and as an experienced dominant she was able to spot. While Lars displayed a couple of these signs, there were other behaviors that clearly marked him as a dominant. Mac had told her Lars had served with him and that explained some of these traits, like doing as he was told. Maybe it was those traits that fascinated her and the reason she couldn’t quite peg where he fell.
In the few words that had passed between them, he seemed serious, almost melancholy. Today, when he’d finally seen her, he smiled. She guessed it wasn’t something he did often—what had he said about the players at the club?—it’s not my thing. She’d learned early that she couldn’t change anyone. They had to want to change. Looking at the phone next to her, she suddenly regretted giving him her number and asking him to contact her. How could she let herself get so distracted? She had a mission, and it was far from completed. She needed to find the Black Widow. Luc had to be avenged and Marianna needed the closure. Lars Nielsen would derail every carefully laid plan she had if they got involved with one another.
What the hell did I just do?
She got up, went to her study, logged into her computer, and dug out a set of files. She had to get focused and figure out what damn spider hole the Black Widow had decided to hide in. Opening one of the files, she sorted through the papers and began to organize them by city, identity, and dates. She sat at her desk staring at those papers for what seemed like hours. Frustrated, she picked up the folder and tossed it on to the floor to make room so she could organize the papers in a different way. As it fell to the ground, a paper fluttered out. She picked it up and looked at it for a moment. It was a copy of a utility bill for an apartment in Miami in a name that didn’t match any of the Black Widow’s aliases, a name she hadn’t seen before.
Calling up mapping software, she was able to locate the address and view the area. She copied the address to a file that would sync with her devices. She sat back and took a drink from the now warm bottle of water sitting on her desk. She had a plan for tomorrow morning, and Lars Nielsen had no place in those plans.
* * *
The phone vibrating against the nightstand brought Lars fully awake and made his heart leap into his throat. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good night’s sleep and the smallest noise would wake him and keep him up for hours. When it vibrated again, he looked toward his nightstand and breathed a sigh of relief. It was just an ordinary call. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and looked at the screen.
“Hey Mac, what’s up?”
“Sorry to wake you, man, but I was wondering if you’ve seen Marianna in the last couple of days?”
“I saw her a couple of nights ago. She came by the club, why?” Uneasiness tingled down Lars’ spine.
“Did she, uh, play there? Did she go home with anyone?”
“N-no, not that I know of. Did something happen? She was sitting at the bar, I dealt with a situation, and by the time I was done, she was gone.” Lars was now pacing his bedroom floor, “Why? Did something happen?”
“No one’s seen her for two days, and she’s not answering her cell.”
Lars’ mouth went dry, and his heart skipped a beat, “Are you serious?”
“Why the fuck would I be calling you if I wasn’t serious?”
“Okay, Mac, let’s think this through. Do you have tracking software for your security business? You know, to track cell phones? ” Mac didn’t answer for a minute. Having the kind of tools the cops and military had skirted the edge of being legal for a private business. However, this was an emergency and someone very near and dear to them both could be in danger. Lars was pulling on his jeans while he snapped, “Mac, are you still there?”
“I’m here,”
“Answer my fucking question! Do you have the tools we need to find her? If not, then get the fuck off my phone and let me find somebody who does.”
“Meet me at my office ASAP,”
Lars hung up, pulled on a shirt, grabbed his go bag from his closet, and was out the door in less than five minutes.
6
Marianna walked out of the coffee shop and toward her vehicle while checking her phone. She’d located the apartment on the utility bill and found it was in a nice, quiet, nondescript area of Miami. Just the sort of place the Black Widow would live. It wasn’t extravagant, nor was it flashy; it was plain and nondescript. It wasn’t, however, her usual MO. She liked small towns and areas where the police didn’t have the manpower or sophistication that the big city police departments had. She couldn’t shake the similarity to the patterns the Black Widow followed. The neighborhood fit her type of place. She’d intended to check the place out by talking to some of the neighbors, but before she could, something interesting had happened, the Black Widow showed up and moved in. She called her DEA agent and let him know that she’d sighted the Black Widow and gave him the address. Marianna sat and waited. Within an hour she noticed a car that was new to the area with two men who looked suspiciously like federal agents who were now apparently watching the Black Widow. When their quarry had finally left this morning, so did the men watching her.
As she walked, there had been text from the DEA agent she’d been working with asking for an update, and Mac and Dessie had been blowing up her phone wanting to know where the hell she’d gone. She’d planned on answering everyone as soon as she got back to Tampa. Right now, she couldn’t lose focus, and Mac had a way of butting in where he wasn’t wanted. She unlocked her car and opened the door. A hand came out of nowhere, slammed it shut behind her, and scared the shit out of her. She dropped her coffee cup and turned suddenly, her fight or flight response in full beast mode. As close as her attacker was, she would have to fight.
“What the fu—” The sight of a pissed off Viking surprised her and made her pause. “Lars? What are you doing here?”
He grabbed her arm and growled, “Come on, I’ll buy you another cup of coffee while you explain to me why you scared the hell out of everyone. I haven’t slept in almost twenty-four hours, so it better be a damn good explanation.” Not liking the demanding tone he’d just taken, she jerked her arm away and stopped. If possible, his bearing became even harder, and his features turned dark. It seemed as though the giant grew a few more inches, and his hand shot out and grabbed her upper arm again. This time, the grip was tighter and was sure to leave a mark. “Don’t fuck with me. I don’t care what kind of hell you raise, I’ll pick your ass up, throw you in my car, and I’ll drive to Tampa with you kicking and screaming the whole way back. Am I clear?”
Her first internal response was to tell him to go to hell, but his thin lips and dark expression left her no doubt he would do just as he said. But the longer he stared her down the angrier she got, and her headstrong, dominant nature kicked in.
“Let me go. Right. Now.”
“Marianna, I want to give you the benefit of an explanation, but I really don’t need one. My mission was to find you and bring you back to Tampa. There was nothing stipulated about the way you were delivered.”
“I can’t tell you why I was here. I will tell you I’m working on a story, and I was following a lead.”
“A story? You scared the shit out of everyone for a fucking story?”
“It’s what I do! I’m a journalist
!” When he rolled his eyes, she went white hot with anger. “Go to hell! I didn’t ask to be rescued, so go back to Mac and tell him you accomplished your mission.”
“Not without you, sweetheart. Let’s go.”
“Let me fucking go!” She screamed when he grabbed her again.
“Then explain! Make me understand why you think sending everyone into a fucking panic is no big deal.”
“Fine! Let’s go back to my hotel room.”
“Give me your keys.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I’m driving. Now give me the fucking keys!” he demanded.
The deadly rumble in his voice compelled her to hand over the keys without a second thought. He was truly a scary man when he chose to be. The tone conveyed a silent understanding that he’d take the damn keys if she uttered another word of protest. No one in recent memory had made her react the way she just had. He grabbed her arm again and pulled her to the passenger side of the vehicle, opened the door, and fairly shoved her inside the car. He settled himself in the driver’s seat and looked at her. The dark, glowering look let her know the time for games had long since passed. He didn’t need to ask her where they were going; she nearly spit the name of the hotel and its location at him. When they arrived in her room, she walked inside ahead of him.
“All right, Marianna. Start talking. No games, no bullshit. What the hell is going on? Why is this story of yours so fucking important?”
All of her extended vocabulary and talent with colorful description that was her signature when writing a story suddenly left her. This was the first time she would say anything aloud about why she hunted the Black Widow and would have to explain the way Luc died at the Widow’s hands. Lars had just ripped the scab off a deep wound that was now bleeding and painful as hell.
“Marianna, you’d better start explaining, or I’ll really lose my shit.”
A deep, black spring of poisoned emotion threatened to erupt from her. She was trying to gather her thoughts so she’d sound reasonable. Instead, all that came to her mind was jumbled images of the shape Luc was in when she demanded to see him at the coroner’s office. The memories of dropping to her knees when she got home and being paralyzed and unable to do nothing more than curl into a fetal position and give into the deep grief that overtook her and choked off her breath. The horrible sense of loss, as if her heart had been ripped from her body, and the physical pain from it that felt as real as if someone had reached inside her and pulled it out with their bare hands. Somewhere in the middle of that night, her iron will had taken hold and closed off the grief. She remembered getting off her bed, walking to her desk, and making a list of people she needed to talk to. Luc would have justice, even if it meant she would mete it out for him.