“When we drove down that slope on PCH and passed Ralphs I could see a guy standing next to my car. I assume it was one of them. I didn’t see the dark grey sedan anywhere.”
“I’ll bet his partner was running around the stores looking for you,” Blake remarked.
“I don’t understand,” Josh said. “Why would he allow himself to be seen?”
“If Belinda had shown up he would have either casually moved away, or maybe even engaged her in conversation. In a small community like Malibu people talk to each other. He could have complimented on her car, or asked her directions somewhere.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Josh nodded.
“I doubt it. They’ve never said two words to me,” she remarked. “Anyway, how are you? Are you sure you should be out of bed?”
“I feel good. Headache is lurking but it’s not bad. If you weren’t here to boss me around I’d be tempted to have Josh take me into work so I can check on things.”
“That’s why God invented phones,” she retorted, “so people who need to recover from something can do their checking-in without leaving their bed.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not fine, you’re...”
“What?”
“Exasperating,” she exclaimed.
“Let’s sit down and talk,” he suggested putting his arm around her. “Josh, I forgot to bring down my yellow pad. Could you get it for me please? It’s on my bed.”
“Sure, boss,” he replied turning quickly and heading to the stairs.
“So, young lady,” Blake purred staring down at her, “I didn’t leave that pad up there accidentally.”
“You didn’t?”
“Nope.”
Clutching her hair he tugged it back, and before she could catch a breath his lips were pressed against hers. His kiss was fervent, possessive, and filled with the relief that she was back in his arms and safe.
“Beautiful Belinda,” he sighed holding her tightly “I was so worried. I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve come up a plan, but I’m afraid to let you back in the lion’s den.”
“You have?” she breathed stepping back and gazing up at him.
“I have, and I think we’re going to have some serious help, but I still don’t like the thought of you in that house, not even for a second.”
Gazing up at him she could see the concern in his eyes as clearly as she’d felt it in his kiss.
“Blake, I don’t know what to say. I’ll be super careful, I promise. I don’t know how they’re controlling that poor man, but he is absolutely terrified.”
“God only knows what they’ve got on him,” he frowned, “but those guys are bad. I’m fairly sure they’re Eastern European gangsters.
“What? No! How the hell could they be holding an Emmy winning, television writer hostage? It’s Malibu, for goodness sake, not... I don’t know... Chechnya”
“The only thing I can think of is that George Barrett got involved with them somehow, then crossed them. It could be drugs, girls, gambling, it’s impossible to say.”
“I’ve got your pad,” Josh announced walking back into the kitchen, “and your laptop too, just in case you need it. Do you mind if I grab some coffee? I’m desperate for some.”
“Get yourself a mug,” Blake said taking his computer and notepad and sitting at the table.
“I could use some too,” Belinda remarked walking across to join Josh.
“What’s wrong with this picture?” Blake demanded staring across at them. “You two playing house over there, and me here by myself.”
“Don’t know what to tell you,” Belinda laughed as she took her coffee to the table and sat next to him. “See, you should have stayed in bed. I’d still be fussing over you.”
“Come and join us, Josh, I have things to tell you both.”
Josh was hungrily eating a muffin and drinking his coffee. Quickly stuffing the last of the muffin into his mouth, he topped up his mug, hurried across to the table and sat across from them.
“Josh, remember a while back I did that film about that FBI agent who tracked those violent bank robbers across seven states?”
“Yeah, sure. I had just started with you.”
“That’s right, that was your first film, right?”
“Yeah.”
“That FBI agent was Brian Reilly and we’ve remained close friends. I’ve called him.”
“You have? You know an FBI agent?” Belinda asked.
“I know quite a few interesting people,” he winked. “I did my own digging, and you were right, Belinda. Barrett was living the high life before he became a recluse, and there was one article about a certain party that caught my attention. It’s the reason I said I think these bad guys are from Eastern Europe.”
“Tell us,” Josh said eagerly.
“Last year there was a mega-yacht anchored off Malibu. It was Russian.”
“I remember that, I saw it,” Belinda exclaimed. “It was incredible. It was there for almost a week.”
“The article talked about the billionaire who owned it, a well-known Russian businessman. It’s generally suspected that some of the super-successful men out of Russia and the Eastern European countries have ties to the international underworld. There was a photograph of George Barrett with two gorgeous girls. His quote was, ‘I’m doing my bit for international relations, helping these lovely young ladies with their English.’ It was a short time later he disappeared from the limelight.”
“That gives me the creeps,” Belinda grumbled. “I thought he was such a nice man.”
“If he wasn’t before, I’ll bet this experience has made him one,” Josh muttered.
“You mentioned that none of the guys outside Barrett’s door at the hospital ever talk to you, they just nod and frown,” Blake said. “Fred Simons is the only person who has spoken to you. Is that right?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “Those goons just look at me. If I say hello, they just nod.”
“It’s possible they have heavy accents and don’t want to be heard.”
“Or they could just be rude thugs,” Josh suggested.
“Or they could just be rude thugs,” Blake repeated. “Yep, they could. Regardless, if there’s any chance at all Fred Simons is connected to the criminal underworld, I’m not going to be a lone ranger, and neither are you,” he said turning his eyes to Belinda. “That’s why I called Brian.”
“I almost forgot,” she said. “I have his picture. Maybe you could send it to him. Doesn’t the FBI have a way to do facial recognition, or is that just in the movies and on TV?”
“They definitely do,” Blake replied, “but how did you get his picture.”
“I pretended to be texting and I snapped it.”
The look on his face told her she had just landed herself in big trouble, but pretending not to notice she slipped from the table and hurried across to her bag.
“I also got his fingerprints,” she announced as she retrieved her phone.
“Cool,” Josh grinned.
“I’m not sure it’s cool, and I’m afraid to ask how you did it,” Blake frowned.
“Both the picture and the fingerprints were dead easy,” she said.
She could tell by the look on his face he was not convinced, nor was he happy, but ignoring it she sat down, opened up the photograph on her phone, and handed it to him.
“It’s amazingly clear, don’t you think? You can see his features perfectly. He was looking right at me when I snapped it.”
Blake studied at the face staring back at him. It was decidedly Slavic. The man had pale brown hair trimmed close to his scalp, his face was also pale and his lips were thin, but he couldn’t make out his eye color.
“Send it to my phone,” Blake said. “I’ll forward it to Brian right away.”
Taking the phone from his hand Belinda touched the screen, and seconds later Blake’s phone chimed its arrival.
“Tell me about the fingerprints,” he said as he forwa
rded the photograph with a short message to his friend.
“I’m not sure how well it worked, but I had him pass me a pen and I kept it. Easy.”
“Cool,” Josh repeated. “I’ll have to remember that.”
“Please don’t encourage her,” Blake said as he finished his text.
“Sorry.”
“While we’re waiting for Brian to get back to me, this is the plan I’ve come up with. It sounds very simple, but simple is good. As you know Josh, the more complicated a gag, the more likely things can go wrong. The same is true here, at least, I think it is. The issue is the unexpected, like tripping over that wrinkle in the carpet. Totally unseen, unexpected, completely out of the blue. Those are things that worry me about this scenario, but having said all that, I’ll explain the plan I’ve come up with,” he announced picking up his yellow pad.
Belinda and Josh listened carefully, asking questions as they arose, and when Blake had finished, Josh whistled, and Belinda smiled.
“That is so brilliant,” she said softly.
“You should be in special ops,” Josh declared.
“All we can do now is wait for Brian to call me. I’m not doing anything until that happens. Belinda, do you want to come and lay down with me? Take a quick nap?” he asked, “You have to be feeling a bit tired after all the drama today.”
“I am. I can feel myself coming down. My adrenalin’s been pumping for hours.”
“See you later, Josh. Help yourself to whatever you need. You look like you’re starving.”
“I am, thanks, boss,” he smiled.
“When you’re finished eating, zip the bike down and gas it up, and no wheelies or hard turns. I don’t need anything happening to you or my bike right now. Got it?”
“Absolutely. I’ll just cruise down and cruise back up,” Josh promised.
Taking her hand, Blake led Belinda up to his room, and closing and locking the door behind them, he put his hands on her shoulders and stared down at her.
“I may have a sore face, and a sore head, but you, young lady, are about to have a very sore bottom.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Standing next to the bed, Belinda was naked, her head bowed and her hands behind her back.
When he’d instructed her to take off her clothes and wait by the bed, she had begun to protest, but he had placed his finger against her lips shot her a warning look.
She had taken up the submissive posture to appease him, but when he came out of the bathroom she’d risked a quick glance, and it was clear he wasn’t about to be placated.
As he approached she felt her already fluttering butterflies grow in size and number, and when the blindfold slipped across her eyes, and he brought her hands to the front and shackled them, she was sure her legs were going to give way underneath her.
“I told you more than once not to take any unnecessary risks,” he scolded as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Not only did you ignore that instruction, you did so twice. The notes for Barrett were a terrible idea. Fred Simons could have walked across that small space at any time and pulled that newspaper from your hands. What then? You would have been better off pretending to pick something up from the floor and whisper in Barrett’s ear, than use bits of paper. You could have dropped one and he could have caught you scrambling to pick it up.”
“I didn’t think about that,” she whimpered.
“At the very least you should have let me know what you were planning, but I suspect you didn’t because you knew I wouldn’t approve. Am I right?”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
“As if that wasn’t bad enough, you took an even greater risk by snapping his picture?” he scolded. “Do you have any idea what he might have done if he’d caught you? You don’t and neither do I, because we don’t know who he is and what he’s capable of. When you’re dealing with the unknown, play smart, tread cautiously.”
“I’m sorry,” she whimpered.
“If I’m going to let you help Barrett and go into his home, which is becoming less likely by the minute, I have to be able to trust you. You’ll have to do exactly, and I mean, exactly, what I tell you. You will not be able to deviate from it at all, not at all, and I’m going to make darn sure you understand that.”
“I do,” she bleated, “I do, honest.”
“You know I’m going to punish you, and you know why,” he said sternly.
“Ooh, yes, Sir.”
“In a minute we’re going to hear the sound of Josh leaving on my bike, and that’s when I’ll start spanking you, but you’re going to wait over my knee.”
Taking hold of her cuffed wrists he jerked her forward, positioning her so her upper body was resting on the bed, but her feet were still on the floor.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
“I know I was wrong. I’m used to doing things myself, I mean, I, uh, oh, Blake, I don’t know what I mean,” she whimpered, “but I do know I was wrong.”
“You’re not used to having to answer to someone, truly answer,” he declared. “That’s who I am, little girl, I’m someone you’ll have to answer to. You understand that?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I meant what I said the other night. I’ll be your Dominant, but I told you I’d exact discipline if you disobeyed me, and what did you today?”
“I disobeyed you, Sir,” she breathed.
“I didn’t hear you.”
“I disobeyed you, Sir,” she lamented, “and I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“Ah, and there you have it. That’s what I’ve been waiting for. You knew taking those risks was defying me, but you thought it was the right thing so you did it anyway. Lesson number one, defying me, especially when it’s something I’ve been crystal-clear about, is never, ever, the right thing.”
As he finished speaking they heard the sound of the powerful motorbike leaving the garage, and Blake lifted his hand and brought it down with a powerful swat.
“Repeat what I just said.”
“OW! Defying you is never, ever, the right thing,” she wailed.
“Correct,” he said smacking her opposite cheek then bouncing back to the first. “Say it again.”
“OW, OW. Defying you is never, ever, the right thing.”
“You can yell and scream all you want, there’s no-one to hear you, and I’ll be happy to listen to the results of my discipline while I watch your bottom turn red. You deserve every swat I land, don’t you, Belinda?”
“Ooh, yes, Sir. When I was writing those notes I knew it was a dangerous thing to do, and when I had my phone in my hand to take his picture, I thought I was going to drop it I was shaking so bad,” she confessed in a plaintive wail. “I deserve this spanking, I do. I’m impulsive, and I do foolish things without thinking them through.”
“Good girl for admitting all that,” he said smoothing his hand over her cheeks. “We’re going to work on that problem, beginning right now.”
His hand started to spank at a moderate pace, moving from cheek-to-cheek, sometimes landing three smacks in quick succession, other times throwing a hard slap to her sit spot. The unpredictability of where his palm would land was unnerving, and as the burning sting took hold, her wriggling required him to throw his leg over the backs of hers, and her ouch’s and ow’s became yelps and howls.
He didn’t pause to lecture, or give her a break, or caress away the burn. What she’d done had been foolhardy at best, and he was determined she’d never again put herself at risk. The spanking was punishment, pure and simple, and it was going to count. He increased the speed of his hand, continuing to kiss her bottom with his fiery slaps, and only when he spied large red blotches was he satisfied he’d made his point.
“We’re done,” he sighed. “Stand up.”
Uttering sounds of pain she slowly rose unsteadily to her feet, and taking her elbow he guided her across the room and instructed her to kneel.
“Do you know where you are?”
“No, Sir,” she whimpered.
“You’re in a corner, little girl, exactly where you need to be. You’ll kneel here and think about why your ass is on fire. I’m leaving for a few minutes and you’re not to move, are we clear?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He would have preferred to sit on his bed and watch her, but his head was beginning to bother him and he needed to eat something so he could take some more painkillers.
Grabbing his phone he headed down to the kitchen and found the pasta salads. Foregoing a plate, he picked up a fork and began to eat directly from the plastic container. It tasted good, and as he ate he felt the pain in his head begin to abate.
“Carbs,” he muttered. “Maybe I was having a carb headache. I hope so. I haven’t had many carbs since this happened. I should have realized.”
He finished the last bite, decided against the painkillers, and was about to head back up when his phone rang. Checking the screen he saw it was Brian returning his call. Hitting ACCEPT, he moved to the table and sat down.
“Hey, Brian, thanks for getting back to me.”
“Blake, good to hear your voice. What the hell are you doing with a picture of this guy? Tell me what’s going on, and I mean everything.”
“Why? Do you know who he is?”
“Do I know who he is? Hell, yeah, I know who he is. The entire FBI knows who he is, and the CIA as well. His name is Nicolai Brovinksi, and he’s bad news. You name it, he’s involved in it. Now tell me what’s going on.”
“Shit. I figured he was a gangster but I didn’t think it would be this bad,” Blake said grimly. “It’s not a long story, but it’s heavy.”
“I’m listening, and don’t leave anything out.”
Blake told Brian the bizarre story, starting from the very beginning with Belinda’s interaction with George Barrett when he was first brought into the hospital, finishing with the strategy he’d come up with to get the poor man out of his house and away from the mobsters.
“It’s a good plan but it has a major flaw.”
“It does?”
“Let’s say Belinda is able to put the sedative into the evening meal somehow, and everyone in the house is asleep except her and George what’s-his-name.”
The Stuntman Page 17