Surefire

by Ashe Barker

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  A Totally Bound Publication

  Surefire

  ISBN # 978-1-78184-931-6

  ©Copyright Ashe Barker 2014

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright January 2014

  Edited by Sarah Smeaton

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2013 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Burning and a Sexometer of 3.

  This story contains 161 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 5 pages.

  Sure Mastery

  SUREFIRE

  Ashe Barker

  Book three in the Sure Mastery Serial

  Now her submission is complete, will her Master still be there when she needs him most, or will the ghosts of her past destroy their fragile future?

  Ashley and Tom’s sensual journey continues as an old friend returns to Black Combe. As her business flourishes and her relationship with Tom deepens, Ashley is happy—truly happy—and looking forward to the future. Then, without warning, her world is shattered once more as her past comes crashing back, violence and malevolence crushing her newfound happiness and threatening all she now holds dear.

  Shocked and horrified as she learns the terrifying truth, Ashley has to battle for her own survival and that of the tiny life just starting inside her. Can her Master protect her? Is there a future for them after all?

  Sure mastery can only be met with absolute submission. As Ashley surrenders to the inevitable, relying on her Master to keep her safe, will it be enough?

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my family, as ever, John, Hannah and Jack.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  McDonalds: McDonald’s Corporation

  Big Mac: McDonald’s Corporation

  Porsche: Porsche AG

  McFlurry: McDonald’s Corporation

  Barbie: Mattel

  Mini: BMW AG

  Head and Shoulders: Procter & Gamble Company

  Land Rover: Land Rover

  RSPCA: Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals

  Clio: Renault S.A.

  iPad: Apple, Inc.

  BMW: BMW AG

  Marriott: Marriott International, Inc.

  Transit: Ford Motor Company

  The Karate Kid: Robert Mark Kamen

  Pepsi: PepsiCo Inc.

  Pampers: Procter & Gamble Company

  Marks and Spencer: Marks & Spencer

  Photoshop: Adobe Systems, Inc.

  Samsung: Samsung Group

  O2: Telefónica Europe plc

  EE: Everything Everywhere Limited

  The Cat in the Hat: Dr. Seuss

  Autoglass: D’Ieteren SA

  Crimestoppers: Crimestoppers Trust UK

  Audi: Audi AG

  Sellotape: Henkel AG & Company, KGaA

  Chapter One

  “Eva! You mean Eva Eva?” Eloquent, that’s me.

  Tom too, it would seem. “Yes, Eva Eva. Nathan’s Eva. And she’s not on her own.”

  Just the mysterious Eva materializing out of nowhere was enough to floor me. And by the sound of it, Tom was every bit as surprised. But there’s more apparently. He’s not volunteering so I have to ask. “So, who else is with her?”

  “Her baby.”

  “Her…” Words do fail me now. I’m scurrying across the yard toward my car and I manage to drop my phone. By the time I’ve retrieved it from under my rear tire, the obvious inference has occurred to me. “The baby, is it…? I mean… How old is it? The baby?”

  “About ten weeks I gather. And yes, she’s Nathan’s baby.”

  “Ah.” Says it all really. Complicated doesn’t come close to describing this. Still, I’ve always had the distinct impression Nathan Darke likes children. I’m just wondering whether or not to offer up that optimistic observation when Tom’s voice cuts through my tangled thoughts again.

  “We could really do with a bit more time here, before Rosie arrives back and everything gets messy again.”

  Again?

  “Nathan needs time to talk to Eva, and I’m on my way to Keighley to get hold of a cot. Grace is babysitting, so that leaves you. Could you think up some delaying tactic, take Rosie for a burger or something, just keep her out for an extra hour or so?”

  “Yes, I daresay I could. Won’t she think it a bit odd though, me just turning up? I never meet her from school.”

  “Maybe, but she’ll be so delighted to see you she’ll soon forget.”

  “I take it I’m not telling her about Eva or the baby?”

  “I think that’s down to Nathan. Just hedge as best you can until you get back here. And, Ashley, I do appreciate this, babe. Nathan does too.”

  “I— You’re welcome. I’ll see you in a couple of hours or so then.” And I hang up, get the car started then I’m off, headed for Rosie’s school.

  * * * *

  She was surprised to see me hanging round the school gate, and just as delighted as Tom thought she’d be. Amazingly, she never once asked where Grace or her dad were, just accepting me as part of the family team. It’s a fairly warm, fuzzy sort of a feeling, I decide, being part of a family again—a family who looks out for each other and rally around to help in a crisis. I’m mulling that over and responding to Rosie’s excited chatter as we tootle along the road heading for McDonalds in Keighley. She’s full of stories about her day, the painting of Barney she’s half finished, the ‘Cat in the Hat’ poem her teacher read to the class and the particularly disgusting fish that was on offer in the school dinner hall. A less than enjoyable lunch seems like a good excuse to pig out on a Big Mac before we head for home, and Rosie buys that suggestion enthusiastically. So far so good.

  An hour later we’re pushing the empty wrappers and cartons around on the bright red plastic tray, and I’m wondering if it might be all right to head for home when
my phone buzzes to signal the arrival of a text. I send Rosie to dump our debris in the huge bin while I check it.

  Fine to come home. See you soon. Love you. T

  Sounds promising. I smile, especially at the last bit. My response is short—

  On our way. 20 mins. Love you too. A

  Knowing what we’ll be walking into makes the short ride home rather fraught for me, but Rosie seems oblivious to any tension, or to my general silence. I pull up at the huge gate into Black Combe and Rosie hops out to press the buzzer. A few seconds, then the massive gate slides majestically aside, and Rosie skips alongside the car as I crunch over the gravel toward the house. I navigate the bend in the drive and the house comes into view, Nathan’s sleek black Porsche parked in front. I pull up alongside as Rosie fusses with an excited Barney bouncing around the house to greet us. I get out of the car and, flanked by Rosie and Barney, stroll around to the kitchen door at the back. Rosie flings it open when we get there, bounces inside full of news of horrible fish and delightful chicken nuggets and strawberry McFlurries. I follow more cautiously, not entirely sure what sight might greet us.

  What we get is a surreal spin on domestic bliss. Rosie comes skidding to a halt, her excited stream of girlish babble silenced at the sight of her father seated at the kitchen table, a tiny baby in his arms sucking contentedly from a bottle of milk. She stares at him, astonished, then at the baby—a remarkably pretty little thing, incidentally, all pink and fragrant. Her eyes are closed, the very picture of contentment, and her cheeks are moving rhythmically, suckling the bottle. The tiny air bubbles rising through the milk indicate her success, and Nathan tilts it to improve the angle for her. The adoration in his gaze is unmistakable. Clearly, Rosie has a sister.

  Not that she knows it yet, and I’m wondering if I should make myself scarce, give him the space to talk to her alone. Apparently not.

  “Hi, you two. Rosie, come over here, there’s someone you need to meet. Ashley, my hands are full. You don’t mind making your own coffee do you? Mine’s black.”

  He gestures with his head to the empty chair next to him, and Rosie scurries across the kitchen.

  “Uh, no. Not at all…” I set about fixing us both a coffee.

  “Whose baby is it? Can I hold her? What’s her name? How long are we looking after her for? Does she like Barbies?” Rosie seems to have rallied admirably from her surprise and is bombarding Nathan with questions.

  The excited babble cuts off suddenly as Rosie spots something else, something equally incongruous to her. And I confess I’m also a little puzzled by the presence of the rather battered violin case occupying pride of place on the kitchen table. Rosie stares at it for a few moments then turns to her father, with her eyes wide and mouth quivering.

  “That’s Eva’s. Eva’s violin. She took it with her. But it’s here again. Why is it here, Daddy?”

  “Hush, love. Listen to me.” He hesitates, his gaze fastened on Rosie’s excited, hopeful little face, then he hits her with the big one. “Eva brought it. She’s back. She’s upstairs, asleep.”

  Rosie leaps to her feet, obviously intending to bolt for the stairs to see for herself the beloved Eva, truly returned from…wherever.

  “Rosie, wait. Come back here, sit down and listen to me. Now, please.”

  Nathan’s voice stops her mad rush. Rosie does as she’s been told, as anyone would, I suspect, on hearing that tone, and he continues. “Eva’s here, you’ll see her soon. But she’s been poorly, and now she’s tired so she’s asleep. We need to let her have a good, long rest, and you can talk to her later, I promise. The doctor needs to come and see her as well.”

  He nods his thanks to me as I place a mug of black coffee on the table in front of him, then he turns again to Rosie. “This is Isabella. She’s Eva’s baby.” He smiles at Rosie’s wide-eyed, astonished look and goes on, “And mine. She’s your baby sister.”

  Rosie looks from him to me then back again, searching our faces for some sign that this could make sense. That baby sisters do just turn up out of the blue, and can be found waiting for you in the kitchen when you come home from school. No one speaks. By common, unspoken consent we all let the silence stretch as each of us, I suppose, assimilates the impact of the day’s events.

  Then, “Is she staying? I mean, are they both staying? Daddy, please don’t let her go away again. Please…” Rosie’s eyes are tearful now, her lips quivering again as she considers the prospect of losing her—well, I don’t exactly know what Eva is to Rosie, but she’s clearly very important—all over again.

  It’s clear to me that although she likes me well enough, I’m her friend, maybe even a bit like a big sister. But Eva? Now Eva’s something very special to Rosie. And I suspect to Nathan too. I hope for all their sakes this is going to turn out okay.

  Nathan’s voice is gentle as he tries to reassure her, but of course, there are no guarantees. Not yet at least. “I hope so, love. I’m going to try my very best to persuade her.”

  The clatter of footsteps along the hallway announces the arrival of Tom and Grace. Tom strolls into the kitchen, smiles at me and drops a quick kiss on the top of my head. “Thanks for helping out, love. Nice burger, sprout?” He ruffles Rosie’s hair as she turns to him, her tears forgotten and her eyes now sparkling with excitement again.

  “I had chicken nuggets. But Tom, Tom, we’ve got a baby. Me and Daddy. And Eva. Eva’s upstairs. She’s called Isabella and she’s my sister.”

  Tom smiles back at her. “Yeah, so I hear. You gonna help look after her then? That’s what big sisters do.”

  “Yes. I’ll help. I can brush her hair and read books to her. And show her where the tadpoles are, and…” She stops, more than certainly to think what else might need to go in her job description while Nathan smiles down at both his daughters. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man look more delighted with life. Or more torn.

  Tom shakes his head, clearly impressed at this display of sisterly diligence. “Sounds like you’ll be busy, sprout. I hope you’ll still have time to come and help me with the baby piglets from time to time.” He turns to Nathan. “Looks like you’ve picked up the core skills pretty quick. Anyway, the cot’s assembled and on the landing, not sure which room you want it in so…”

  “No problem. Thanks, mate, I appreciate what you’ve done today.”

  “Any time, my friend. Any time.” And, turning to me, “So, gorgeous, can you give me a lift home then? When you’ve finished your coffee—no rush.”

  * * * *

  Twenty minutes later we’re cruising along the lane headed for Greystones, and I’ve had the rest of the tale from Tom. It seems they finished their meetings in Preston earlier than they expected and were headed back to Black Combe in Nathan’s Porsche. They were almost home when a Mini—Eva’s car—came swerving around the bend in the road, just before the turnoff up to Black Combe. Nathan swerved to avoid hitting it, and Eva lost control of her car. Next thing she was upside down in the tarn and sinking under about eight feet of water. As the Mini had shot past them Tom had seen Eva at the wheel, although he thought Nathan had recognized the car before, as soon as it had appeared. According to Tom, Nathan had more or less stood the Porsche on its nose, and he was out of his car and into the water after her like a man possessed. Luckily he’s a good swimmer, a scuba diver in fact, and he was able to get down there and get her out of the car in time. A few seconds later, and I doubt she’d have made it. It was a close thing, but she’s alive, and apparently sleeping it all off in Nathan’s bed. But the really odd thing is the baby wasn’t in the car with her. She’d apparently already been up to Black Combe and had just left Isabella with Grace, announced she was Nathan’s baby and that he could have her. Next thing she’s hurtling down the road, taking corners too fast and driving into the lake.

  “It all sounds really odd. She just left her baby behind?” Given my history that’s especially difficult for me to understand, but who am I to judge?

  “Yeah, that’s
what Grace said. And that she was very, very upset. Distraught is how Grace describes it and she thinks Eva might have, well, that she might have done it deliberately. Tried to kill herself.”

  I turn to him, dismayed. Not good, so not good. “Shit. What does Nathan think?”

  “His gut reaction’s that it was an accident. Mine too, if I’m honest. She looked to me, in that split second as her Mini skidded past us, like she was trying to stop, trying to brake. She was just going too bloody fast, but I don’t think she intended to end up in the lake. He’ll talk to her though, when she wakes up. See what she has to say.”

  “Right.” Then, for the want of something more incisive, “Shit.”

  * * * *

  It was an accident. We all know that now. Eva was ill, totally pole-axed by post-natal depression. She’d struggled since Isabella had been a few days old, and had come back to Nathan in sheer desperation. She needed help, and she found it at Black Combe. A bit like I did, I suppose.

  Eva’s a couple of years older than me, and we have absolutely nothing in common, apart from our fatal attraction to Dominant men perhaps. In fact, she’s the sort of girl I always avoided at school. The brainy types, the ones who did their homework, got awarded achievement prizes at Speech Day and never got detentions. Those girls always intimidated me, if I’m honest, and when I learnt that Eva’s a doctor of something not medical, speaks about twenty different languages, has degrees in music, maths, languages, and God knows what else, I just wanted to crawl under a stone. No way was dull, ordinary little Ashley McAllister ever going to be able to compare to that glittering career, that litany of achievements. Or so I thought. Then Eva turned out to be nice, and that confused me. She is clever, a gifted musician. But just plain nice too. And she’s just as shy as me, just as unsure of herself, and of her welcome here.

  So, I’ve put my prejudices to one side and we’ve become friends. She likes my pictures, I like to listen to her play the violin. But then, who wouldn’t?

  The first time I met Eva, actually met her, she’d been back at Black Combe for about three weeks. For the first two weeks she never came out of her—their—bedroom as far as I could tell. I continued to call at Black Combe most mornings to collect Barney on my way up onto the moors, but she was never in evidence. I knew from Rosie’s chatter and occasional comments from Tom that she was around, keeping a low profile, and never going anywhere near the baby if she could help it.