To Blind a Sniper (Women of Purgatory Book 2)

by India Kells

“Your lies. You were breathing lies from the first time I saw you. You’d better tell me who you are and why you’re here. And don’t bullshit me about the baker thing. That won’t fool me either.”

  Mac put her free hand on his chest, his muscles bunching under her fingers. “Please.”

  “Please, what?”

  “Please, let me go, let this go.”

  He was clearly not a man to back off. He just stood there for a long moment, holding on to her, keeping her close. He was scrutinizing her in a way that she found unnerving.

  “Are you in danger?”

  What could she answer, apart from a lie? So, she caught his gaze and said nothing.

  Wesley cursed under his breath. He simply nodded and let her go. Exhaling, she fled the room. As she retrieved her backpack, she turned to him once more.

  “Thanks.” She wasn’t sure why she was thanking him. Probably for accepting that she couldn’t … no, wouldn’t reveal anything more about her to him.

  Wesley acknowledged what she said. “I hope you know what you’re doing and that you will trust me enough to let me help you. You know I can help you, don’t you?”

  Mac smiled. “You offer your help, but I think that you’re the one needing help the most, Sorenson.”

  A corner of her mouth curved when she heard him curse as the door shut behind her.

  Chapter 7

  Another call, another disappointment. Gabrielle had tried to stay positive and hopeful, giving Mac the rundown of what had been done, and the other leads the team at Purgatory had discovered, but the result remained the same. Again, Calvi was nowhere to be found, meaning she had to stay where she was.

  Mac sat at the kitchen counter, torn between banging her head on the marble top and screaming. When nothing was left to do, there was baking. She had a contract to honor and as she was stuck, the only thing she could do was to make the most of it. As she hoped, when her body started moving, her hands followed the usual actions mechanically, preparing her workstation. Fingers plunged deep in flour; her brain quieted down.

  When she wasn’t worrying anymore, when texture, smell, and taste reminded her of happier times, an era when danger was a far-away notion, disguised only in monsters under her bed and ghosts roaming the attic, Mac allowed herself to linger in what might have been. But, even if she found solace in some part of her past, she couldn’t deny that violence had become an integral share of her being, answering a need deep down. In the here and now, she missed the chase, the missions, the adrenaline rush. And above all, the purpose. From the moment she decided that being a sniper was her calling, Purgatory had given her a way to channel it, to make good of it.

  Gabrielle and the whole team would have their turn trying to unearth Calvi. When reaching the end of her self-control, Mac would find the son of a bitch herself and finish it all.

  As her new resolution settled her impatience and frustration, Mac closed her oven on her first batch of chocolate croissants. Making sure the subsequent batches were properly covered, she cleaned her counter space to start her cherry tarts, another item on her order tonight.

  Mac was about to roll the pie dough when she heard sobbing through her back window. Sobbing? Mac wiped her hands on her apron, and headed to her back door leading to the outside staircase. The club and both upstairs apartments shared the same balcony. She never really enjoyed it as there was no interest in the small concrete space surrounded by near-dead shrubbery.

  Someone was there, for sure a female. The crying was contained, as if the person was trying to make as little noise as possible.

  Mac hesitated. Until now, she had evaded most invitations from Sebastian, Margot, and Lilianne. She suspected they all wanted to learn more about her for very different reasons, and all of those would put them at risk. And her own trust issues did weigh heavily on her decision. But she wasn’t a heartless bitch either.

  When she peeked through the back door, she caught sight of Lilianne sitting on the stairs, her back to her. Sobbing, she was dressed in red latex, her spiky blonde hair sleeked, stiff, and shiny. The delicate woman continued to weep, her body shaking, her face in her hands.

  Mac couldn’t leave her like that. With a deep sigh, she opened the door, making as much noise as possible. Lilianne jumped and turned around, quickly rubbing all traces of tears from her cheeks.

  “Lilianne? Are you all right?” She didn’t seem hurt at first glance.

  The pixie dominatrix bobbed her head as a yes, trying hard to give her a smile before it crumbled into wails again.

  Mac sat beside her, putting a comforting arm around her as she turned to her shoulder, crying. Silent, she waited for the sobs to lessen, tears to dry up, and for her to calm down. After a long moment, Lilianne took a deep breath and straightened. Mac paused, giving her time to gather her thoughts. Her eyes detailing both her hands on her lap, Mac bit her lip at the picture they must have made. The fairy-like woman dressed in a skin-tight scarlet jumpsuit and a curvy redhead covered in flour and jam stains.

  Taking out an almost clean towel from her apron string, she offered it to Lilianne. She smiled in gratitude before wiping her remaining tear streaks and blowing her nose. She bunched up the cloth and finally looked at Mac.

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t worry about it. We all have our moments.”

  “Yeah. Too bad I didn’t kick the ass of that moment sooner. The lying, cheating bastard.”

  Mac angled her head. “I don’t want to pry, but are you talking about one of your clients?”

  “No! Of course not. None of them would ever have the indecency to betray me like that. I train submissive for a living and I’m good at it. I have an eye to choose the right clients. It’s in my personal life that is crumbling. I’m talking about my boyfriend, Trent. My ex-boyfriend now.”

  “Care to tell me what happened? Only if you wish to.”

  Lilianne’s face lightened up and her mouth opened as if to unload her burden when something rang insistently. It took a moment for Mac to realize what it meant.

  “My croissants! Listen, I want to hear all about it, but I need to work the oven. Why don’t you come up?”

  Not waiting for Lilianne’s answer, Mac sprinted upstairs. As she opened the oven door, she sighed in relief at the perfectly golden pastries. She placed them delicately on the cooling rack and prepared another batch. From the corner of her eye, she saw Lilianne coming in. The woman was a stunning beauty despite the blotchy cheeks and puffy lids. Entirely clad in red latex, with stilettos so high they looked like weapons, she stood out in the ordinary kitchen. Without a word, she examined her interior for an instant before walking around the counter and sitting on one of the stools.

  Lilianne’s gaze was on her for a long moment, watching her man the oven, placing pastries in it and preparing another baking sheet.

  “It all smells so good. Sometimes, in-between clients, I would come out and indulge in the scent of chocolate, lemon, or caramel.” Her chin in the palm of her hand, she eyed the chocolatines with envy. Mac bit back a grin at the greed on her face.

  “You can have one if you like. I made plenty for my order.”

  Lilianne sighed and licked her lips. “If I take one bite, I will need help ever sliding in this outfit again.”

  “Must be uncomfortable, what you’re wearing. Must be hot.”

  Lilianne giggled. “You get used to it. And what I do to my customers is a little more uncomfortable to them, that’s for sure.”

  Mac pushed the cooling chocolatines in Lilianne’s direction. “Pick one, a broken heart needs chocolate. And you’re almost drooling over them.”

  Lilianne playfully stuck her tongue out at her, before taking one flaky delight in her hand. “A dominant never drools. Don’t start rumors.”

  “My lips are sealed.” Mac put the finishing touch on her cherry filling. “Don’t get me wrong, what I’m going to say is definitely a compliment, but you don’t look like a … dominant. Well, not the traditional image of one.”<
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  Lilianne smiled, the innocence Mac often discerned in her eyes slipped a little. Instead, steel and heat took its place. Mac had wrongly judged her. She may have the air of naiveté, but the operative in her had seen the same look before a dangerous mission. Determination, sharp mind, and an assessing gaze.

  “And what image do you hold in your head, Mac? No, let me guess. A busty, black-haired woman, clad in fishnets and a corset with a crop in her hand. Not to mention she has to be tall with a mean glare.”

  Mac laughed. “Yeah, pretty close.”

  The delicate blonde dominatrix nodded as she took another bite and sighed in delight before returning her attention to Mac. “Exactly what I thought.”

  Is she pouting?

  “Hey! Don’t get all sulky on me. It’s the first time I’ve met a professional dominant in the flesh.”

  “Because you have met non-professional ones before?” Again her tone had changed. Mac could appreciate her technique. The dominatrix used similar and much softer skills utilized for interrogating suspects.

  “None from a sexual point of view. I collaborated with people I would consider as dominants. Never worked out, though, I ended up kicking them out or leaving. I guess I’m more into equal relationships.”

  “Those saying that they wouldn’t like being tied down and whipped are the ones enjoying it the most.”

  “Okay, I get it. I’m wrong. All wrong. You don’t whip bad boys into submission.”

  Lilianne smiled. “Oh, I do, occasionally, but that’s not my specialty. I leave that to Margot.”

  Now Mac leaned on the counter, curious. “And what is your specialty?”

  Lilianne angled forward, too. “Surrender.”

  Mac blinked. “Submission, surrender, isn’t it the same thing?”

  The blonde pixie shook her head and grabbed another croissant, slowly removing flake after flake, bringing them to her mouth.

  “Submission implies resistance and forcing the submissive to relinquish all power to the dominant. As for surrender, it’s not fought, it’s given. Where Margot battles to obtain what she desires, which is ultimately what her clients want, I have nothing to do. I just wait.”

  “And you having nothing to do doesn’t explain what you do, or what you do to your clients.”

  “I told you, I offer surrender. My clients are often men with great responsibilities, high levels of stress. Some are businessmen, CEOs. I have policemen, firemen as my clients. And all of them want the same thing when they come to me: to shut down. They want a moment when they can let it go, leave the burden of their lives, if only for an hour.”

  Mac pondered on Lili’s tale as she put one batch of cherry tarts in the oven. In her line of work, she had to face life and death situations, countless times, but the emotions were only for an instant, into a specific mission. She didn’t endure stress every single day of her life. Although, the idea of relinquishing that pressure, if only for a moment, sounded relaxing, soothing.

  “If you’re not whipping them, how can you make them … surrender?”

  Lilianne swallowed her last bite. “Oh, several ways, but bondage is the most common and effective method to do. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not just about tying them up. You have to lead them into the right frame of mind, listen and observe. And when you start removing their physical power, one rope, one binding at the time, you would be amazed how they change. It’s like they find that Zen place they’ve been looking for forever.”

  “Wow! It sounds so easy the way you describe it, but I’m sure it isn’t.”

  “No. It isn’t. You have to be one hell of an observer and have a talent at anticipating.”

  “So, no sex? I thought your world revolved about sex.”

  Lilianne shook her head. “Nope. Some of my clients are not here for anything sexual … they have someone they love in their lives. From me, they only want the release valve service. A reset. I understand the sex part as deepening what is already in place.”

  “I don’t know how you could do it, Lilianne. I mean, talking about it with such detachment.”

  Now, Lilianne was looking at her with laser focus.

  “What do you mean?”

  Mac tried to remember all her sexual encounters, and to be honest, there hadn’t been that many, but for all of them, she needed a connection. It wasn’t necessarily love … well, none of them had been love, but there had been something more than sex; companionship, friendship.

  “You never fall for your submissive? You never crave more from any of them? Emotion-wise?”

  Lilianne seemed to ponder over it. “I find satisfaction in my work, but I don’t crave a submissive, Mac. I desire love.”

  And when the word escaped, her eyes filled with tears. Mac regretted to have turned the topic in that direction.

  “Sorry, Lilianne. Do you want me to poison the bastard?” Mac wiggled her eyebrow, making a joke for her sake, which worked, thank goodness. Lilianne snorted, a most inelegant but funny sound.

  Mac laughed, too, but her ear caught a slight creaking noise from the back stairs. She moved to her pantry, getting closer to one of her weapons hidden there, and stopped her movement when she saw Margot peeking inside her apartment.

  Lilianne, oblivious of Mac’s maneuver, gestured the other woman to come inside. Mac reminded herself to take a breath and smile.

  The dark-skinned woman pushed the door open. “There you are! Lili, I’m not going to do all the clean-up and closing all by myself. And by the way, I can’t find my black cane you borrowed. Do you still have it or did it disappear the same way my shackles and pair of lace-ups did?”

  Margot had obviously showered and changed; her dark hair was up in a ponytail, and she was only dressed in a simple deep-green blouse and black leggings. She was wearing flats, her face clean of any make-up.

  “I’m serious, Lili. I’m tired of this. You’d better get your act together.”

  “I know, I know, Margot. I’m sorry. It’s just that tonight, I finally got the proof that Trent was fooling around.”

  Mac was astonished when Margot’s severe face melted away, becoming full of concern.

  “Really? Your little Pet found something on the bastard’s phone?”

  Pet? Mac tried to stay away of what seemed like a private and sensitive conversation, but it was impossible in her little kitchen. Curiosity was nagging at her anyway.

  “You have a hacker named Pet?”

  Both women turned to her and Margot smiled. “Pet is one of Lili’s submissives. That’s not his real name, of course. This guy is a magician with anything electronic. You should have seen how he saved my laptop. A miracle worker.”

  Lilianne nodded. “When my boyfriend started acting weird, Margot told me that I might find something on his computer, but I didn’t. That’s when I thought about his cell phone. The bastard had passed coded it, though. I had an appointment with Pet tonight, so I brought him his phone. It took him two minutes. And it was all there. Margot, it’s awful.”

  Once again, Lilianne burst into tears and Margot gently held her, patting her back as she cried.

  Mac switched trays in the oven before fetching a glass of water and placing it on the counter, a sympathetic smile for Margot.

  “I’ve found her like that on the stairs.”

  Margot rolled her eyes as Lilianne wailed and hiccupped even louder on her shoulder. The gesture conveyed her exasperation, but also her knowledge that probably everybody except Lilianne realized the kind of guy Trent was. After a moment, the sobs receded again. Much faster this time.

  “Damn! Why does it have to hurt so much? I’ve been so blind.”

  Margot crooned, still rubbing her back, “We’ve all been, darling. Love renders us all blind. We can’t escape it. Not even us, almighty dominatrix.”

  Lilianne took the towel out again to blow her nose before sipping some water. “I’m over him. That’s it. I draw the line in the sand and I vow to forget all about that asshole.”

  Mac
smiled at the determined pixie in front of her. “That’s the attitude, girl, I’m sure the next one will sweep you off your feet and make you forget all about Trent.”

  Margot rubbed her friend’s shoulder. “I totally agree with Mac, Lili. Who needs men, anyway?”

  As she said the words, a masculine voice was calling Margot and Lilianne’s names from the courtyard. Mac looked out the window and noticed Sebastian, fists on his hips, frowning at the empty space. He had also loosened up—clad in jeans and a black sweater with the sleeves rolled up over his muscular forearms, his back hair flickered in the wind. When she stepped out on the small balcony, he glanced up and his face completely transformed from annoyed to surprised and appreciative.