Opening her bedside night table, Cam took out the salve they used after intense play sessions. He applied it to her wrists, and then rolled her gently to her stomach so he could smooth the healing cream onto her ass and thighs. Marissa was resting with her cheek on her arms, watching his ministrations with a somber expression.
“You want to sleep, baby?” Cam asked. “I’ll remake the bed with fresh sheets. Can I get you something to drink? Water, brandy?”
Marissa rolled over and sat up. She shook her head adamantly. “No. I don’t want to stay here. I know it’s late, but can we go to your place?”
Cam nodded. “Absolutely. I'll call a cab right now.” They dressed quickly. While Marissa was in the bathroom brushing out her hair, Cam slipped the flash drive into his jeans pocket.
On the ride to his house, Cam said, “You know, that asshole is not going to get away with this. I understand you don’t want to involve the cops, but maybe there’s another way...” He trailed off as he said this, the seed of an idea forming in his mind. He thought about the old adage—don’t get mad, get even. Turning to Marissa, he said, “So Mitchell threatened to send a copy of our private training video to Dr. Hession?”
Marissa, who had been looking out the cab’s window, turned back to face Cam with a frown. “I don't know him all that well, but from what I can tell, Fred Hession is a very straitlaced guy. Very conservative. He'd probably fire us on the spot.”
Cam raised his eyebrows, a ghost of a smile lifting his lips.
“What? What's funny about that?” Marissa demanded, a touch of her natural spark returning.
“Just thinking of your characterization of Fred as a straitlaced guy. He does favor straitjackets, and would probably like a bit of lace as well. I know he loves silk and very high heels.”
Marissa wrinkled her nose in confusion. “What are you talking about? You know Dr. Hession personally?”
“I do.” Cam nodded. “In fact, I trained him.”
Marissa continued to stare at Cam uncomprehendingly. “Trained him?”
Cam nodded. “Normally I wouldn't say anything, but these are extenuating circumstances so I think you should know. Fred is a member of The Power Exchange. He and his wife Lillian are regulars. She’s a homemaker and his fulltime Mistress.” Marissa's mouth had fallen open, her eyebrows rising higher and higher as he spoke. “In fact, that's how I got an interview at the hospital. Fred recommended me.”
“Wow,” Marissa finally said. “I had no idea.”
“Why would you? It’s his personal business. Same as us.” Cam reached for Marissa’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “We don't have to deal with this alone, baby. And we’re definitely not going to take this lying down. I understand and respect your wish not to involve the authorities. We’ll handle this on our own, with the strength of the BDSM community behind us. When we’re done with him, Phil Mitchell will wish he’d never been born.”
Once home, Cam poured them each a large snifter of brandy, which they carried to the bedroom. Snuggled between the sheets, Cam took Marissa's hand. “Sweetheart, we need to tackle this right away, before that bastard does any more harm. I have the beginnings of a plan, and I want to call Jack Morris to get his input. Is that okay with you?”
Two spots of scarlet appeared on Marissa’s cheekbones, but she nodded. “Yeah. It’s okay. He should know that a video of the inner room is floating around out there. But it’s after two. The club is closed tonight. Won’t he be asleep?”
“Jack?” Cam shook his head. “He’s an inveterate night owl. He jokes that he has vampire blood—only goes down when the sun comes up.” Sure enough, Jack answered his phone on the second ring, recognizing Cam’s number and answering in his booming bass, “Hey there, trainer. You pull the late shift at the hospital or something?”
With a glance and sad smile at Marissa, Cam explained briefly what had transpired. He held the phone away from his ear as Jack began to shout.
What's he saying? Marissa mouthed. Cam switched the audio to speaker and set the phone on the bed between them.
“—won’t get away with this, that little piece of shit! Say the word, Cam, and that cocksucker will disappear. I still know guys who know guys, if you understand me.”
“No,” Marissa interjected. “Jack, it's Marissa. Listen, we don’t want anything like that. I just want to make sure we stop him from doing any more damage. And we have to make sure he never does this to anyone else.”
Jack reluctantly agreed, becoming enthusiastic again when Cam discussed the rudiments of the idea that had been germinating in his brain since the cab ride. They talked back and forth for quite a while, firming up the plan.
~*~
Phil Mitchell looked at himself in the mirror and grinned at his reflection. He was still stoked from the events of last night. He’d waited up late after he left her, just in case the bitch was stupid enough to call the cops, but the night had passed uneventfully, as had the morning. Neither Marissa nor her faggot boyfriend had showed up at the hospital so far, which was well and good. Even if Cam Wilder knew what had happened, what could he do? They were probably cowering together in their S&M lair with no idea what to do. Phil had them both over a barrel, and they knew it. He owned Marissa Roberts’ ass now, and the fun was just beginning.
Everything had come together perfectly last night—from the seriously excellent cocaine he’d snorted that had made him feel like a god, to Wilder’s working the night shift, to the helpful old lady who had let him into Marissa’s apartment building when he pretended to fumble for his key. The expression on Marissa’s face had been priceless when he’d tossed that flash drive onto her bed. It served her right. People who played those sick, twisted sex games and then had the stupidity to record them deserved exactly what they got.
He had timed it perfectly, too, since today was his wrap up at St. Beatrice Hospital. All the software systems were enabled and working beautifully. He had an appointment with the chief of staff to give him the final report, and then it was on to another project.
Phil turned slightly to change the mirror angle and admired himself from the side. He really had an excellent jawline. The suit jacket hid his muscular build, but the padded shoulders compensated. He faced the mirror once more and buttoned the jacket, glad he’d sprung for the extra tailoring to highlight his trim physique.
The bathroom door opened and a janitor shuffled in pulling a wash bucket on wheels, a mop slung over his shoulder. Phil nodded a greeting and slid past him. He mustn’t keep Dr. Hession waiting.
Phil strode purposely down the corridor, smiling at the pretty nurses he passed. He winked at the fat broad—Janet, Janice—he couldn’t quite remember—as he approached, and she giggled and simpered. In your dreams, he thought as he walked by.
“Hi. I have an eleven o’clock appointment with Dr. Hession,” Phil told the plump, middle-aged secretary who was pretending to be busy at her desk.
She looked up at him with a sour expression. He flashed her a heart-stopping smile and she melted, just like they all did. “Oh yes,” she gushed. “You can go right in. He’s expecting you.”
Phil knocked lightly on the ajar door and peered inside. Dr. Hession looked up. “Please, come in.”
Phil entered the office and approached the older man’s desk. He opened his leather portfolio and extracted the final report for the hospital. “Here’s a summary of the work that’s been done,” he said, placing the pale gray folder with the words HIF Software Solutions typed on the cover in front of Dr. Hession. “Everything went very well. All software updates are in place, and the new system is fully operational. Your staff has been trained, but of course we’ll be available to help with any questions, or to fix any bugs that might arise.”
Dr. Hession glanced at the papers Phil had placed in front of him. Phil doubted he even knew what he was looking at—medical professionals could be so one-dimensional, focused only on their tiny, specific area of medical expertise, with blinders on for anything e
lse. This actually suited Phil, since fewer questions and demands meant he could get on to the next job that much more quickly. If he occasionally cut a few corners in the process, no one was the wiser.
Dr. Hession looked up. “We’re pleased with the job HIF has done for this hospital. I actually wanted to see you on another matter.”
Phil felt a sudden jab of unease. Could that skanky bitch have been dumb enough to come to her boss in a preemptive move? Even as the thought crossed his mind, Phil dismissed it. She wouldn’t be that stupid. Still, he blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when Dr. Hession said, “You’ve done such a good job, I was wondering if you’d be interested in doing some work for an associate of mine. It’s a small computer job—really something you could do on your own time, I would imagine. No need to involve HIF unless you thought it necessary. I have an entrepreneur friend who needs a management information system set up for one of his startups.” He smiled at Phil. “Would you be interested in something like that?”
Phil could see the dollar signs parading in his head, and had to restrain himself to keep from rubbing his hands together. In point of fact, his contract with HIF precluded this sort of side job, but what they didn’t know… “You bet,” he said a little too eagerly. Tamping it down, he added in a sober tone, “Of course, I’d need to know more about it, but I’m sure I can work something out. Do you have his card?”
“I have a better idea.” Dr. Hession stood and moved around his desk. “Do you have some time? How would you like to meet him right now? I can take you over to my club and introduce you. We could have lunch.”
Phil grinned. A fancy lunch at a country club on someone else’s dime, and the chance to make some serious cash on the side. The day was getting better and better. “Sounds like a plan,” he said.
~*~
Both Marissa and Cam were taking a personal day, with Fred Hession’s blessing. Marissa was spending the day with Dana, who insisted on canceling all her appointments as soon as she’d heard what had happened. Before heading out that morning, Cam had waited for Dana, who arrived within the half hour armed with hot coffee and muffins. Cam had felt better leaving Marissa with her good friend.
Tony and Jack sat with Cam at a table in the large, empty outer room of The Power Exchange. It felt strange to sit in the empty club in the middle of the day. Jack was dressed in a black muscle T-shirt, black cargo pants and black square-toed boots. With his shaved head and the grim expression on his grizzled face, he looked every bit the enforcer. Jack’s cell phone buzzed. He looked down at it the screen. “They’re on their way.”
“Excellent.” Tony, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit and silk tie, picked up the document he had just read to the others and folded it lengthwise. He slipped it into an inner pocket of his jacket.
Ten minutes later the front door buzzed and Jack strode to press the intercom button. “It’s Fred Hession and guest,” came a disembodied voice through the speaker. Jack released the lock to the door at the top of the stairs. He opened the door to the club and returned to the table. “I still think we ought to dispense with the charade and just beat the little shit into a pulp.”
Tony shook his head. “It’s always better if you get them to sign on the dotted line before anything else. If we get him to admit culpability on paper, our case will be that much tighter in the event of any future legal action.”
“Spoken like a lawyer,” Jack growled.
Tony shrugged. “Guilty as charged.”
Cam pushed back from the table and stood. Rage simmered inside him like a corrosive acid. Though his head agreed with Tony, his gut agreed with Jack. His muscles were coiled, his hands aching with the need to feel the crunch of bone as he brought his right fist into the guy’s jaw and followed it with a sharp hook designed to break the cocksucker’s nose. Still, he knew it was better to stick to their plan. “See you in a few,” he said. As he heard the sound of the men’s feet clomping down the concrete stairs to the club, he walked quickly toward the back of the room and stepped behind a partition so he was hidden from view.
A moment later he heard Fred Hession’s voice. “Come on over and I’ll introduce you,” he was saying. Cam could just imagine Phil Mitchell’s confusion as he took in the space—the sumptuous country club-like surroundings, interspersed with the BDSM punishment circles that contained whipping posts, chains, stocks and St. Andrew crosses.
“What kind of a place is this?” Mitchell said, his voice cracking a little.
“Come sit down and we’ll tell you all about it,” Fred said. Cam shifted slightly so he could see around the partition. Jack and Tony got to their feet as Fred and Mitchell approached the table. Fred, Mitchell and Tony sat down. Jack remained standing. Cam stepped quietly out from behind the partition.
An edge came into Fred’s voice, though a thin veneer of cordiality still remained. “Jack, Tony, I’d like you to meet Phil Mitchell, the scumbag who broke into Marissa’s home, terrorized and violated her, and then threatened to blackmail her to keep her quiet.”
Cam strode quickly to join the group. Mitchell turned in his chair at the sound his approach. His expression was one of almost comic confusion, his mouth hanging open, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. His eyes bugged as he took in the sight of Cam, who it was clear he recognized. “What the fuck…” Mitchell pushed back his chair and jumped to his feet.
As if they’d choreographed it, Cam and Jack stepped on either side of the man, each clamping a heavy hand on his shoulder. Together they forced him back into the chair. The leather portfolio he’d been holding fell to the ground. Fred leaned over and picked it up.
“What the damn hell do you think you’re doing? What is this? What’s going on here?” Mitchell tried to rise, but Cam and Jack held him down. “Give me that.” Mitchell gestured toward the iPad. “That’s mine.”
Fred folded his hands over the tablet. “I think not,” he said calmly.
“What’s going on here?” Mitchell demanded. “These aren’t prospective clients. You got me here under false pretenses. This is some kind of setup.”
“The boy’s about as sharp as a bag of wet hair,” Jack said dryly.
Mitchell twisted back to glare at Cam. “What’re you doing here? What is this place? Let go of me! Goddamn, I said let go!” Cam could hear the fear beneath the bluster.
“I advise you to listen to what we have to say,” Tony interjected in an authoritative voice. “That is, if you don’t want to spend the rest of your life in prison.”
His words seemed to have an effect, because Mitchell stopped jerking in their grip as he turned back to the table. “What’s all this about? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lied.
“Allow me to enlighten you,” Tony said. “I’m going to read a document that outlines your position. You’re going to listen, and then you’re going to sign on the dotted line.”
“I’ll listen,” Mitchell said in a tight voice, “because I have no choice.”
He stiffened again in their grip. “But I’m not signing shit.”
“We’ll see about that,” Tony said with a cold smile. He reached into his jacket and pulled out the document he’d prepared earlier. He began to read. “’I, Phillip Mitchell, did knowingly and in violation of the law and of the terms of agreement between HIF Software Solutions, my employer, and St. Beatrice Hospital, our client, place an illegal capture device on the personal laptop of Dr. Marissa Roberts while said laptop was in her office at the hospital.’”
“Hey, you can’t prove—“
“Shut up or I’ll shut you up,” Jack growled.
Cam squeezed his shoulder. “Christ, you’re hurting me,” Mitchell gasped. Cam didn’t let up.
Tony continued as if there had been no interruption. “‘I forced my way into Marissa Roberts’ personal residence, wherein I proceeded to molest, terrorize, torture and threaten her for nearly two hours. I attempted to coerce Dr. Roberts into silence about what I’d done, threatening
that if she told anyone, I would publish a private, personal video I had stolen from her laptop, as well as reveal the nature of said video to the hospital’s chief of staff, Dr. Frederick Hession, with the express intent of causing her to lose her job and her license to practice medicine.’”
“Lies! All a pack of lies!” Mitchell twisted back once more toward Cam, his eyes rolling with fear and rage. “She came on to me. I know it’s hard to hear it, but your little girlfriend is a cock tease. She invited me to her place. It was all consensual. Whatever she said, it’s her word against mine. And anyway, I have the video of you two perverts that will—“
“Shut up,” Cam said in a voice dark with fury. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” He realized he wanted to kill Phil Mitchell, and the awareness caused him let go of Phil’s shoulder as if the man were on fire. He took a step back. Mitchell must have seen something in Cam’s face, because he paled and finally shut his mouth. Jack met Cam’s eye and something in his calm expression penetrated the rage. Cam swallowed and nodded, feeling somewhat back in control.
“I’m okay,” he said in answer to Jack’s unspoken question. Jack nodded.
Tony continued. “‘I know there is no way to undo the heinous crimes I have committed, but I am willing to make full restitution. First, I agree to be punished for my actions and humbly ask that Master Jack Morris mete out said punishment, which I am aware I richly deserve. Furthermore, I fully approve of the recording of said punishment, the full rights of the recording which I assign without limit or reservation to Master Jack to do with as he will.’”
“What? What the hell? What are you saying?” Phil croaked, his voice cracking.
“I’m not done yet,” Tony said. “But hang on. We’re nearly there.” He continued reading. “’I further grant Master Jack full access to my place of work and to my home. I will allow him to thoroughly search the premises, and to remove any item he deems offensive or to have been acquired illegally.
“‘Finally, I agree to resign my position at HIF Software Solutions, effective immediately. Once I have permission from Master Jack to leave, I agree that I will move out of the state of New York, and I will never return.
BDSM Club Series Box Set Page 40