Expecting Surrender (Dominion Trust Book 3)

by Trent Evans

  “One of the things we’d need though is for you to stop the inquiries.”

  “You mean Ella.”

  “Yes.”

  Now they were coming to the heart of it, and part of him wanted to tell Tom to go fuck himself. Anytime any organization went to such lengths, there was always something deeper. There was always something to hide.

  “I can’t do that, Tom. At least not as long as I suspect my client may be some sort of front. Is the Trust organized crime? Drugs? I need to know. It’s my law license — and potentially my ass — on the line here.”

  “I know it. And that’s why I’m offering this.” Tom looked away a moment, twirling the ice in his glass. “Some would rather I just have cut off contact — sent you on your way. But I’m not doing that to my friend.” Tom looked at him again. “And there’s more. I pushed for this, probably pissed off some powerful people for this. I know I’m correct though — or at least that there’s a chance I’m correct. I think you’re the right kind of man for this.”

  “Jesus Christ, Tom. For what?”

  “To become a member of the organization.”

  Holy shit.

  “How can I even answer that, when I still don’t know what I’d be considering joining?”

  “That’s why I want to bring you to that facility.”

  “So give me the grand tour, and all the secrets of the Universe are revealed to me?”

  Tom snorted. “Well, some of them anyway. I don’t even know everything, so if you’re expecting the doors to be flung wide open, you’re going to be disappointed.”

  “I can’t work for the mafia. And I know what drug dealers do to people. If this is part of either — even tangentially — I’m out. I mean it.”

  “The Trust is neither. Not even close.” Tom scratched his chin. “I don’t know the full story, but the organization does a lot of good.”

  “So it’s a charity then? A non-profit? Carries on the work of Mother Theresa?”

  Tom scowled. “I didn’t say that, asshole.”

  Despite the shit he was pitching Tom, it was a relief to know this wasn’t organized crime — even though Keihl knew there had to be a lot more to this thing, whatever the hell it really was. He’d be damned if he worked for a bunch of fucking butchers and criminals though. Keihl wasn’t perfect by any means— but he sure as hell wasn’t corrupt either.

  “The Trust is a huge organization — worldwide. They’ve got their hands in a little bit of everything. I try to stay out of most of it, but if you really want to know, I can put you in touch with people. People who know. But in order to do that, I’ve got to get you in.” Tom’s eyes narrowed, his fingers tightening around his glass. If I’m going to do that though, you need to do something for me.”

  “I know, I know,” Keihl said, waving a hand. “Reassign Ella, call off the posse.”

  Tom nodded.

  “What if I say no?”

  Tom gave him a sly smile. “Because if you say yes, it opens doors. More doors than you could ever imagine.”

  “Money? Connections? Access?”

  “All of the above — and a lot more.” Tom’s eyes lit up. “It’s a big world out there, Keihl. Most people don’t even notice it, realize it. But it’s there all the same. And there’s so much more there than you’d ever believe.”

  A whole forest of red flags were flying now. But god damn if Tom knew exactly how to pique Keihl’s curiosity. He remembered that day at the tennis court again. As he’d walked away looking back at Tom and Sharon, he’d sensed something else that day — the open door. Beckoning him to step through it. He’d had the feeling that he might never have the chance to step through it again, to see what lay beyond. He’d been prepared to deal with that though, if it meant doing right by Kirsten. And nothing that had been said here today changed that either.

  It also didn’t change the fact that he still wanted to know what lay beyond that door. The only question was whether or not he had the balls to step through it, or if he’d pass up the chance he thought he’d lost forever.

  Had Keihl started to piece together that what Tom was involved with was a helluva lot more than met the eye? Yes. Which was why he’d let Ella loose on it — bending of the law, or not. Maybe he could learn more by playing their game though — at least for the time being.

  “Tom, I’ve got a baby on the way. I’m trying not to think about how totally unprepared I really am for that — I mean just as a person, a guy. Why would I even think about messing with this right now?”

  “Why do you have your assistant kicking a fucking hornet’s nest then? If you’re so busy getting ready to be a dad, why bother with that?”

  “Because I have to know.”

  Tom gave him a little smile. “And you just hate not knowing everything, is that it?”

  “It’s my job to know, Tom. Lawyer, remember?”

  “You never let me forget it.”

  Keihl smiled. “Jealous?”

  “I was thinking more like pity.”

  Keihl laughed, the booming sound surprising him, releasing some of the tension that had steeled into his body. Tom laughed too, combing his fingers through his hair.

  There was a lot more going on here than what was on the surface, that much was certain. He’d proceed, but he’d be damned careful about it. There were still too many unknowns, but he’d have to go along with that. For now.

  “This might be more than you two would want to commit to right now,” Tom said, leaning forward. “But there’s a Quorum happening in a couple months. I might be able to get you and Kirsten invited to it.”

  “A Quorum? What the hell is that? Some kind of big family reunion? Religious event?” Keihl affected a southern preacher’s accent. “It’s a rea’ big tent revivahl!”

  “Dickhead.”

  “I aim to please, doc.”

  “You done?”

  Keihl cleared his throat at Tom’s frown. “Sorry. This is — what’s a Quorum, exactly?”

  “About every six months, the regional directors.” Tom’s jaw clenched, and he sighed. “I guess I can tell you this shit. You’ll learn it eventually. These regional directors all report to the Primes.”

  “And you’d be going … why?”

  “I’m one of those regional directors.” Tom glanced at his watch, his brows knitting together for a moment. “Where the hell is Sharon?”

  “Holy shit.” Keihl’s mouth went dry, excitement at finally connecting some dots making him almost giddy. “Conall! He’s one of them, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, he’s one of several. The Primes are sort of the Board of Directors, I guess. It’s a lot more complicated than that, but it’s the same concept anyway.”

  Frankly, Keihl had initially wanted to put his fist through Conall’s teeth upon first meeting him, but everything that had happened since their little visit to that man’s house — and this revelation — had him rethinking things entirely. Goddammit, he wanted to know more!

  “Kirsten’s going to be eight months pregnant in two months, Tom.”

  “Trust me, she wouldn’t be the only pregnant woman there. Not by a long shot.”

  What the hell?

  “I’ll think about it. I — I guess I’ll be able to decide once you give me this tour. If I get there, and there aren’t any bodies, then I’ll think about it.”

  “That’s the idea. And don’t worry, there won’t be any bodies.” Tom’s eyebrows lifted, a glint in his eye. “Not dead ones anyway.”

  “I don’t even want to know what you mean by that.”

  “Yes, you do. And if you come with us, you’ll find out.” Tom stood up, plucking his glass from the arm of the chair. “We can talk about that later though. Will you at least let me take you to that facility? You’ll get more of the answers you’re looking for.”

  “Okay. But if this shit is dirty, or crooked, I’m done. With all of it.”

  “I got you.” Tom beamed at him. “You’re gonna love it. You’ll be pissed I didn�
�t ask you sooner.”

  “I’ll believe that when I see it.” Keihl rose, wincing at the stiffness in his back. He didn’t realize it until that moment just how tense he’d been the entire time. “What now?”

  Tom’s eyes flashed. “Now, we get to see how your wife reacts to how this household is really run.”

  Both men turned as the door from the kitchen opened, Sharon and Kirsten, arm in arm, strolling in.

  Tom’s gaze went ice cold. “Sharon, help Kirsten find a comfortable seat.” His long finger jabbed at the floor right in front of him. “Then I want you here, at attention. I have some questions for you.”

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  She’d never seen Tom this way. Ever.

  “What — uh, what’s going on?” Sharon’s normally tanned face was ashen. “I was just talk—”

  “I gave you an order, Sharon.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  The quiet, almost meek tones of Sharon’s voice were even more of a shock than Tom’s uncomfortably appealing sternness. Kirsten met Keihl’s eye, and he gave her a little nod. “Come over here,” his lips mouthed.

  She practically ran to him, needing the feel of his strong arms. This was so sudden, she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to react, so, half in shock, she simply watched, in silence.

  Sharon now stood before her husband, legs together, her hands clasped behind her back, staring straight ahead.

  Tom’s gaze locked with his wife’s. “What were you doing?”

  “I was… just talking.”

  “Before Keihl and Kirsten got here we talked about what was expected of you, didn’t we?”

  “Yes, Sir. I wanted to—”

  “Be quiet.” Tom’s jaw tightened. “When you brought us our drinks, what were you supposed to do?”

  “Start dinner, Sir.”

  “And have you?”

  Sharon’s throat worked. “No, Sir.”

  “What else were you supposed to do, Sharon?”

  “Nothing. I was… no.” Sharon winced. “I was supposed to come sit with you and await… further orders.”

  “Yes, you were.” Tom folded his arms over his chest, the muscles in his forearms working. “And you failed to do either one. What’s wrong with you, Sharon?”

  She dropped her head, a hint of a blush playing at her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I guess… I was excited to have Kirsten here. We’ve got so much to talk about.”

  “Or maybe you thought I wouldn’t notice. Go easy on you?”

  Keihl’s arms hugged Kirsten closer, his nose nuzzling the back of her head, as he whispered. “Just watch. Don’t say anything. This is all okay.”

  She nodded slowly, squeezing the hard muscles of his biceps.

  “No, Sir,” Sharon said. “I know you wouldn’t.”

  “Wouldn’t what, girl?”

  Kirsten’s pussy clenched at the word. Girl. How often had she heard it? Why did it have such power? The lust in Keihl’s voice rendering the sound of it raw, gravelly. Just as Tom’s was now.

  “You wouldn’t go easy on me.” She raised her eyes to Tom’s. “Ever.”

  “That’s right.” Tom looked over at Keihl and Kirsten. “In our house, Sharon has one duty. Just one thing to remember.” Tom didn’t look at his wife as he asked it. “And what is that one thing, Sharon?”

  “To obey you.” Her voice has grown hoarse, almost a whisper now. “Obedience is what’s expected of me.”

  “Very good,” Tom said, taking a step toward his wife, lifting her chin on a finger, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Was I unclear with you? Did you think that because Kirsten was here, that you could forget everything? Your rules? Your duty to me?”

  “No, Sir,” Sharon whispered, the fabric of her dress swaying as she shifted her weight.

  “So what do you think should happen when you fail to obey me? What have we agreed is what you need?”

  “I need to be — punished. Sir.”

  Dear God.

  Kirsten looked back at Keihl. He gave her a soft kiss on her cheek, and she closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the feel of his lips on her skin. She pressed closer to him, wiggling her bottom against his crotch, against the hard bulge she could feel there. In his eyes, she’d seen warmth — and lust. He was enjoying this. Why didn’t that bother her?

  Because you’re enjoying this too. Slut.

  “And do you think that because Kirsten’s here that I should delay your punishment?”

  “I — I don’t know, Sir.” The blush on Sharon’s face was bright now.

  Kirsten had to remember to breathe. Watching this, and seeing the differences between Keihl and Tom, how they handled a woman, was eye-opening indeed. She tried to ignore the fact that her panties were wet again.

  “Let’s ask her.” Tom’s gaze slid to Kirsten, pinning her in place. “Do you think Sharon won’t get punished just because you’re here to watch?”

  “I…”

  “Answer him, Kirsten,” Keihl murmured. “It’s okay.”

  “I don’t know.”

  How was she supposed to answer that? If she said yes, would it matter? Did she want the punishment to be postponed?

  I think you know the answer to that.

  Tom’s gaze darkened for just a moment, then he smiled, returning his attention to his wife. “Well, neither of you seems to want to make a decision. There’s one other person we could ask isn’t there?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Sharon intoned, her voice ragged now.

  “Keihl, what do you think? Should Sharon be punished now? Or should we wait until you two go home tonight?”

  Keihl’s body stiffened behind her, his arms squeezing Kirsten close for a moment, as if to prepare her, to bolster her for what was to come.

  “I think it would do her good to be punished now.” Keihl’s lips teased the top of Kirsten’s ear, making her nipples bead instantly. “And it would do Kirsten some good too.”

  Kirsten gasped, clutching at his arms, twisting against him a little until he squeezed her into stillness.

  Her urge to flee was slowly rising within her, warring with her arousal, and her mischievous, selfish curiosity about how Sharon would be punished. What was happening to her? Yes, her horniness was off the fucking charts — but that didn’t explain her lack of compassion at the idea of seeing Sharon spanked.

  “Keihl, don’t—”

  “Let this happen,” Keihl whispered, the light in his eyes dancing. “I know if I checked that cunt of yours, I’d find it dripping. You don’t need to pretend here.”

  “Oh yes. Maybe an object lesson then?” Tom inclined his head, looking from Keihl to Kirsten, before locking gazes with Sharon once more. “Do you object, girl?”

  “No, Sir,” Sharon said, reluctance radiating from every whispered syllable.

  “Good, then we agree.” Tom turned to Keihl and Kirsten, extending an arm toward the couch. “Why don’t you guys have a seat? We’re liable to be here a while.”

  Keihl’s steadying hand at Kirsten’s waist guided her to the soft, overstuffed couch, sitting down at one end, tucking her against his big body. He grasped both of her trembling hands in his, holding them in her lap, his other hand reaching around her, pulling her closer against his warmth, pressing a kiss to her ear. The slow, possessive stroke of his palm over the curve of her belly made her pussy tighten, her clit now fully at attention. She wanted to curl up in Keihl’s lap, like a cherished cat. After he fucked her brains out, that is.

  “Before I punish my wife, we always agree first on whether or not punishment is warranted.”

  “Is it ever not warranted?” Kirsten winced, the words seeming to tumble out of her mouth.

  Sharon’s head turned toward her, the frightened blue eyes wide.

  Tom’s show of teeth was the smile of pure circling wolf “Rarely.”

  “Be quiet, Kirsten,” Keihl said, his voice a low rumble.

  “So, now that we’ve agreed you’re to be punished, how shall we do it? Hmm?” Tom’s finge
r traced the line of his wife’s jaw. “Over the horse? Or maybe we should just have you bend over the arm of the couch?”

  What is God’s name was a horse? Kirsten thought she could guess, but kept the idea at arm’s length, knowing she couldn’t take much more at that moment. There was already too much happening that she didn’t quite know how to process yet.

  “Whatever you like.” Sharon’s body shuddered. “Sir.”

  “We’ll save the horse for another day.”

  The blonde woman visibly relaxed at the pronouncement.

  Tom turned toward the couch, then stopped, looking back at his wife, his finger tapping his lips. “When I bend you over that couch and pull that dress of yours up, what am I going to find?”

  Sharon’s hard swallow was almost audible. “Panties, Sir.”

  Tom winked at Keihl and Kirsten, then spun toward his wife, walking back up to her. “What’s your rule about that, girl?”

  “No — panties. Unless you order it.”

  “So, why did you ignore that little rule, girl?”

  “I — I thought you’d like them. Sir.” Sharon’s head drooped. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sure I would’ve loved them… had I told you to wear any.” He stepped back, glaring at her bowed head. “Take them off.”

  Sharon’s fingers tugged at the dress, pulling it up, revealing the long muscles of her tanned thighs. She stood profile to the couch, her pale, naked hip exposed as she hooked thumbs into the white lace, drawing the panties down quickly, the scrap of fabric laying atop the gleaming black of her open-toed heels. Tom gallantly held out a hand for her to hold onto as she extricated first one leg then the other from the tangle of lace. Then she rose, depositing the thong in her husband’s outstretched palm.

  Kirsten knew there was no way she’d have been nearly as graceful. Her hands were trembling in the grip of Keihl’s big fist. Just watching it had her mortified to the point where she wanted to hide in the crook of her husband’s arm, even as that mischievous part of her couldn’t keep her eyes off the spectacle before them.

  Tom sighed dramatically, tucking the panties into the pocket of his jeans. “This is just not your night, girl. Okay, over the couch.”