The Corrupt Trilogy

by Penelope L'Amoreaux

  “Family,” Roger sighed.

  She needed to go home. Desperately. In order to do that, they needed a plan. “What now?”

  Simon shifted close. “We’re going to need to pool our money. Fortunately, I uh… still have a large amount of yours.” When Ellen’s money funneling had been discovered they’d managed to cease the open transactions, but the laws regarding the private accounts were so tricky Roger still had lawyers trying to get the money back. Apparently Simon was in control of the stolen funds. “I have a lot, but we’ll need more.”

  “What for?” Dallas asked.

  “To buy our safety. Walter owned me because he paid for my training. But some of the guys I’ve worked with are mercenary. We can buy their loyalty. And trust me, we’ll need to.”

  Roger released her hand. “This is about me, though. If… if what you’re saying is true, would my surrender keep us safe? Would my death?”

  Ice flooded her veins. What was he saying? “No,” she hissed. “That isn’t an option.”

  His wounded face looked at her. “I don’t think you understand the lengths I’d go to in order to protect you.”

  “No, she’s right,” Simon interrupted. “It isn’t an option. Not anymore. You don’t understand. This isn’t about compliance anymore--it is about punishment. Each one of us has betrayed him. He’ll want to destroy everything we love and hold dear before coming after us.”

  Dallas recoiled. “Surely not.”

  Simon didn’t back down, though. His dark hair was a mess, his pale features haggard, and yet he still managed to be as beautiful as the other two Taylors, Paige saw. She turned and drank Roger in, a side by side comparison. For her, there was none. He completed her.

  “It’s true. He’ll come after Paige again. And Mariel. He’ll want them to suffer and he’ll want you to know about it. Then he’ll come after us. So we buy protection to start. It isn’t foolproof, but the guys I know are the top guns.”

  “And what?” She asked shakily. “We just live in fear of our shadows for the rest of our lives?”

  He shook his head. “No. I’m going to disappear. Go off grid where he can’t find me. But,” and his eyes pleaded, suddenly open and scared, “I can bring Walter down. With time, I think I can make us safe.”

  “How much time?” Roger demanded.

  “I don’t know. But for now, with your money and your trust, we can at least start to move forward.”

  All the cards were on the table. Roger and Dallas stared, their silent conversation dominating the stillness. Finally, Roger muttered, “I don’t know if we can trust you.”

  Simon stood and started for his car. “Make the arrangements and I’ll tell you where to wire the money.” He opened his car door and hovered, peering back at them, the light of dawn creeping up behind him. “After all, if you can’t trust family, who can you trust?”

  His joke left a sour taste in Paige’s mouth. She snuggled close to Roger while Simon sped away.

  “I thought we knew our father. Old bastard, sure, but it never crossed our minds that he’d be so, so—“ Dallas muttered.

  “So ruthless,” Roger finished. “I’m surprised, honestly, that I’m not surprised. Dallas, he’s never once treated us like sons. Not really. I just wish I knew what to do now.”

  “Take me home,” she whispered.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mariel tucked Paige’s veil in. “Nervous?”

  Well, Paige’s hands were sweating and she thought she might throw up. She couldn’t throw up. Not in her designer wedding gown. Not on this day. “Nope, not nervous at all.”

  “Well, look in the mirror.”

  When she turned to see, Paige gasped. Between Mariel and the makeup artist, she had been transformed. In the months since her kidnapping and the decision to trust Simon, she’d lost a little weight. Her skin had become paler and under her eyes a permanent purple hue resided. But today that had changed.

  The pale tone of her skin had become luminescent. The dark circles covered and her lids darkened to make her eyes appear larger and mysterious. Her dress hung beautifully on her frame, the ivory silk emphasizing the curves she’d managed to keep. And the veil, white lace and delicate, stood in stark contrast to her dark hair.

  Paige exhaled, letting her anxiety out with her breath. She looked amazing, and this day was amazing, because in moments she’d be meeting Roger at the end of a very important aisle.

  And for today, for that moment as they were joined in marriage, she could just be Paige. He could just be Roger. They could imagine, for a small pocket of time that their lives weren’t in danger. That instead, they were just beginning.

  She’d tried to send an invitation to Simon. It came back, returned--his house had been sold and there was “no forwarding address.” She’d even tried to find Anastasia, but the escort had also disappeared, her town home and bar stool empty.

  He’d vanished, like he said he would. The four of them, Dallas and Mariel, Roger and she, waited for some word of Walter, or something from Simon. They hoped for a hint of their futures.

  It was silent. So they did the best that they could. Roger shifted his focus entirely to his job. He’d managed to delay the pipeline bill. It made a lot of people angry. His father’s people, primarily, but no surprise there--they’d been set to make a lot of money if it’d gone through. Now he was working on a new bill, one for creating better support for young parents. Options, schooling, day care, and job training.

  Dallas worked tirelessly beside him, ever the guard. Paige caught Dallas’s eyes darting around sometimes, trying to seek out the mercenaries they hoped Simon had hired. Of course, there were no guarantees Simon had done what he promised. Roger and Dallas had moved money into the account Simon had specified. Shortly after that, Simon had disappeared.

  Roger had shared that worry with her, one night. “What if he’s lying about my father wanting you dead? What if that was just an elaborate setup for more money?”

  “If you’d seen him that night, babe, you’d know he wasn’t lying. We just have to trust he has people looking out for us.”

  Well, if they were looking out, they’d done a good job. Because here Paige stood, with Mariel as her maid of honor, getting ready to get married and there was no threat in sight.

  The organ music piped up, cueing her.

  “Ready to get married?” Flushed with excitement, Mariel made a gorgeous maid of honor. She’d been glancing at Paige’s ring for weeks, and based on some secretive phone calls between Roger and Dallas, Paige didn’t think she’d have long to wait before their roles were reversed.

  This was it. She stood at the doorway and peered into a room filled with people. There were Senators and Congressmen dotting the aisles, and men in dark suits lining the walls at the back--

  “Mariel,” she hissed before her friend preceded her down the aisle.

  “Mmm?”

  “Is… is the President of the United States at my wedding?”

  But the music cued Mariel in, and Paige was left, mouth gaping, as her friend giggled down the aisle. That is when a strong, reassuring presence moved beside her. “I’m glad you let me do this,” her father whispered as he held out his elbow.

  “Of course, daddy!” She linked her arm through his, delighted by how right the moment felt.

  He gently guided her forward, their pace matching the rhythm of the organist. “Your mom is so proud of you, honey.”

  I bet she is, Paige tried not to feel bitter in this moment. “Well, this is what she wanted for me, isn’t it? To be a good Senator’s wife?”

  He stumbled only a second. “No, baby! She would be proud that you’re happy. She’s always admired your tenaciousness and your success. She just also wanted you happy.”

  Well, that did it. Paige had sworn not to cry on her wedding day, but her eyes were wet when they reached Roger.

  And wow. What a dashing figure he was. His suit was tailored to perfection. His hair was expertly styled. To her delight,
she discovered he was letting his beard grow out. It made him look more like the rebel he was and less like the good boy his father had always insisted he look like.

  Behind him, beaming with pride, was a beautiful young woman. Her hair was a startling shade of red, but she had the Taylor blue eyes. Amanda, Roger’s daughter. He’d called and offered her an apartment in D.C. so she could study and be closer. They’d all get to know each other. Now she was dressed in a suit as a joke, his best ‘man.’ Dallas stood with her, all smiles.

  “Senator,” she joked as she left her father and took Roger’s hand.

  “Future Mrs. Summer-Taylor,” he crooned softly.

  Very soon future, she thought, and smiled at the Officiant to begin.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  “My, what a lovely contrast. Would you care to see?” She didn’t know how Roger could sound so carefree and easy. She was sweating and panting as if she’d run a race. Still, his words thrilled her. Yes. Yes, she wanted to see.

  She was tied over a table. It was, in fact, a table from Fiola. Roger had bought it as a secret wedding gift for her. Now that the party was over, she was laid over the table wearing only her white bustier, her heels, and her blue garter holding up her white fishnet thigh highs. The fishnet had been a little joke for her and Roger, though it didn’t feel funny now.

  Behind her was a large mirror. Roger moved to the front and held up a smaller one, so she could check her reflecting like she did when she got her hair cut.

  He was right-- it was a lovely contrast. The white of her lingerie seemed brighter compared to the stark red of her bare ass cheeks. Stripes from Roger’s belt felt marked her skin, laying a map on the backs of her thighs and her bum. He’d whipped her until she saw stars, until her screams became a song, and she’d finally sighed in release.

  “Are you up for a lifetime of this? Aren’t you afraid it will get boring?” His hand smoothed over her sensitive skin and she hissed.

  “No, Senator.”

  He gripped the sides of the table and with a grunt, spun it and her around. Now she faced the mirror and watched him in it as he moved behind her. His eyes locked with hers in the reflective glass.

  He reached between them, unzipping his pants. Gripping her hips, he sank his cock into her, never breaking eye contact. When he thrust in, his body slapped her abused skin and she mewled, the pleasure in her echoing the throb of pain.

  Slowly, he thrust in and out. His pumps were languid and measured. She, on the other hand, could barely contain herself.

  Paige wanted more of him. Faster and harder. She tried to buck, but the restraints he’d used on her were strong. She begged and pleaded, but Roger was determined. The more she craved of him, the more he slowed his tempo, reminding her of who was in charge.

  A lifetime of this, of him. She didn’t know what the future held for them. Walter was a constant, ominous threat. Simon a brother Roger and Dallas had always wished for and had then disappeared. There’d be research for bills, campaigns, traveling, philanthropy--

  And there’d be each new and exotic way he deciphered to manipulate her senses and entice her body.

  Paige convulsed, her orgasm ripping through her. His cock teased it out, proving that no matter what he did to her, she’d respond with exultations.

  “Will you be happy, Mrs. Summer-Taylor?” He reached between her legs, strumming her clit, detonating a second climax.

  “Yes, Senator!”

  Yes.

  Corrupt Persons

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  He sat low in the soft leather seat of his black Buick Enclave, sunglasses hiding his gaze. Simon knew he looked suspicious, but the truth was, he didn’t give a fuck. The only thing he currently gave a fuck about was walking out of the library and toward her car.

  The summer wind blew her vibrant red curls out of her face, tangling them. She scowled, her fingers combing through her hair. His heart skipped a beat. Even twenty years later she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  Jessica Farmer. His first love. A high school sweetheart, stolen from him by his best friend.

  He’s my brother, now.

  Yeah, great. Simon Stills had inherited a father and two brothers he hadn’t known were his, but he’d inherited a ton of shit, too. Shit like; his father was also his employer, who’d essentially owned Simon’s whole life. Had manipulated him into being a puppet. His father, Walter, had ordered Simon to do some pretty ugly things.

  Hell, he was in this mess because of Walter. Simon had thought ruining Roger, the brother who’d stolen Jessica, would help him move on. Instead, the whole deal had blown up in his face. Now Roger was happily married to Paige, Dallas was gaga for his girl, Mariel, and where was Simon?

  Oh, right. He was hiding in a car, stalking a girl from his past.

  Not stalking. You’re protecting her.

  That much, at least, was true. Because when the brothers had thwarted Walter, they’d opened Pandora ’s Box. A whole world of hurt was coming their way. It would start, Simon knew, with the ones they loved the most. He knew that because once he’d been asked to hurt someone else that way. It was the only time Walter had asked for more than character defamation or some light torture.

  Simon had killed that time, and not just one target.

  So here he was. Hiding. Stalking.

  Protecting.

  And plotting. Because the only way to not be taken out by a man like his father was to take that motherfucker down first.

  Jessica slid into her car, a small, black, a reasonably priced sedan. Simon knew Walter had paid her family off to hide her pregnancy. Despite her wealth, she chose to drive a normal car. It endeared her more to him, if that was even possible.

  Simon raked a hand through his black hair. It was getting long and he should probably get it cut, but that was the least of his worries. He started the engine, listening to its low growl. As she turned out of the parking lot he smoothly pulled behind her. She was easy to follow. Part of it was the Richmond, Virginia traffic. Most of it, though, was years of training so deeply ingrained that things like following a car were second nature.

  He’d joined the army at Walter’s request, but it had just been a smokescreen for what Walter had planned for him. Transferred to a secret division, Simon had spent the years other men his age usually spent in university learning some less-than-savory skills. Sabotage. Espionage. Weaponry and anatomy. He knew how to tail a person, how to break into homes, which bones to break first, and which to break last. When he’d “graduated,” he’d been informed that his education was worth millions-- and the bill had been footed by Walter instead of the government.

  It seemed great at the time; all the training, none of the obligation to work for the ‘man.’ If ever there was an example of his youthful naiveté at the time, that was it. He might not have to work for the government, but he was certainly obligated to work for someone.

  And Walter had put him to use.

  Jessica turned right and found a place to park. Simon drove past her and quickly pulled into a spot of his own, killing the engine. He waited until she got out of her car and started walking toward the market before he exited and followed.

  This is stupid and you know it. It was. Walter knew who Jessica was, of course. Roger’s high school fling… and the mother of his daughter. They hadn’t connected until Walter had Simon threaten to expose them. Oh, he hadn’t been fully pleased by the plan. But at the time, he’d wanted nothing more than to see Roger fail. That son of a bitch had deserted Jessica at her most vulnerable, and while it had been Walter’s fault
, he still couldn’t forgive Roger for it.

  Or for dating Jessica in the first place.

  She stopped for a moment, looking at a floral bouquet filled with irises and sunflowers. Like a Van Gogh painting come to life, the vivid blue-purple and radiant yellows had caught her eye. She reached out and delicately ran a finger along the petals of a sunflower, watching them bow and ripple beneath that touch.

  Simon shivered, his body responding to just the suggestion of her gentle caress. Walter most likely wasn’t after Jessica. After all, Walter thrived on exact punishments. Jessica wasn’t close enough to Roger for Walter to want to hurt her. Of course, if Walter had any idea how Simon felt about her--

  If anything, following her to make sure she was safe was doing the opposite. Simon had gone off the grid, so to speak. He’d changed phones, was using a different identity, moving around Richmond often enough it would be difficult to track him. But Simon knew how well he could track other people, and there was a good chance Walter had sent someone after him.

  They’d be watching him watching her, and his own stupid obsession with the only woman he’d ever loved would just get them both hurt.

  She’d moved on and as he followed, he grabbed the bouquet she’d been looking at. While she was smelling different coffee blends, he purchased the flowers and waited outside, hidden. Near the smokers. The cigarette smoke filled his nose with the smell of burning tobacco and nostalgia; he’d quit a year before, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still want a puff. Especially when he was stressed.

  Right now, he was really fucking stressed.

  She left the market. Thank goodness for that flaming red hair. It made her easy to spot and follow as she made her way to a bookstore. Bookstore? She’d just been at the fucking library. Simon sighed. How could he feel like he knew someone so well and not know them at all? But that was a lifetime ago.

  Because all you do is stalk, Lame ass. No. He wasn’t stalking her. Stalking would mean trying to bug her phone, maybe put a few cameras in her apartment, or hacking into her e-mail. Stalking would mean following her with malicious intent. Simon just wanted to make sure Jessica was safe. And, well… he wanted to just look at her.