by Ann Raina
"Oh, hell, showing me that hunk who saved your pretty ass? Yeah, I vote for that." She laughed. "But, seriously, Kyra, and off the record, the Glock's no newbie."
"I'm listening."
"It was used on a hit three months ago in New York, and before that, another four months back, in Detroit."
"Busy beaver, hmm?"
"The bullets are a specialty. We suppose the hitman manufactures them himself. That means he needs a place where he can do that and some equipment."
"You're concentrating on that now?"
"Yes, and still trying to find a name to the hitman."
"He doesn't speak, I suppose?"
"The cat has got his tongue," she sighed, "and Harper isn't the detective you need to get an answer from a guy tied up like him."
"You mean you could beat shit out of him and he wouldn't flinch?" Sabrina looked up from the desk, raised brows, astonishment written on her face. Kyra smiled. Her secretary scolded her with pretended severance.
"Right what I say. With our methods he'll just be quiet and look pleasant at everybody coming into the sick room. He drinks tea, he takes his meals, he's polite with the nurses, but that's all."
"A professional." Coldness crept through her limbs. With that coldness at heart the man without a name would have aimed and shot. God, she could not stop thinking about him.
"Are you still there?"
"Yes, yes, I'm here."
"But you're freaked out, aren't you? Well, I'd be. How's Mr. Lifesaver?"
"Back at work. He still looks like he's been used as a punching ball, but he wanted to work, so I let him."
"How generous of you. What did your father say?"
Kyra let out a long and heavy breath. "He was worried shitless and wanted to come around at once, but I managed to push that. So he announced to stop by with mom on Sunday. You know how this will go."
Sabrina laughed. "Shall I tell you what Josselyn said when she came home?"
Josselyn was Josepha's elder sister and a nurse. Kyra had asked her to check Julian's wounds since he still refused to set foot into a hospital.
"So?"
"She said, quote, I wished I had such a humble hulk for a boyfriend, unquote." Josepha giggled very girlishly. "Now, better watch out where you let him walk alone, she might put her clutches on him and not let go."
"I'm glad he behaved nicely."
"Oh, dear, that sounds as if he'd be rambling and jabbing all of the time."
"No…" She drawled, and Josepha burst into laughter again. "But he could. Don't underestimate him. He smashed this burglar to a pulp."
"Yeah, I saw his face." All joyousness cleared her voice. "He's still not breathing very well. Mr. Bithrell has a very hard punch, obviously. And if he had hit a little harder, I don't know if John Doe would be breathing at all."
"What do you mean?"
"Kyra, you know the one flat hand punch where you hit the tip of the nose to drive the nasal bone upward into the brains?"
"Yes." Kyra's heartbeat accelerated. Julian had been capable of killing John Doe?
"See, by the fracture of the nasal bone John Doe suffered it was pure luck the bone was knocked sideways. Says my father. And he must know." Kyra was silent. "Are you okay?"
"Yes." Kyra frowned, leaned back in her chair and rocked, biting her lower lip. "So…if the punch had been more precise the other would be dead?"
"Sums it up, yes. Did you underestimate him, dear?"
"I just didn't know it had been such a close call. I mean the last thing I saw was that guy turning tail and running for the garden. Then I shot and he fell flat."
"Right. But judged by the punches's intensity he might have collapsed a little later. Doctors had him on the table over an hour to set right the bone. It was more than one fracture."
"Jesus…"
"You said you got a hunk. He truly is. With everything that goes with it."
"But he's…"
"Nice, kind and friendly. Josselyn says the same. He made the impression of a well-behaved man." Kyra could imagine Josepha's smile to return. "So he's a womanizer on the outside and a bruiser on the inside. Not a bad combination."
"Somewhat frightening, sorry to say."
"Yeah…" Josepha cleared her throat. "I've got to be back at work in a moment. So…I'll call you after Sunday and then we meet."
Kyra said goodbye and hung up. Sabrina looked at her inquiringly, but she shook her head, put on her reading glasses and went back to work.
CHAPTER 12
Kyra was busy in the kitchen with the preparation for lunch when Oliver walked in through the garden. "Hi, Kyra! Is there a chance to get your spare coffee maker for the day?"
"Sure. Help yourself."
"Smells good. Lamb? Hmm, I like that." Oliver patted across the tiles and only then recognized Julian who had just gotten out of the bathroom. "Oh, fudge, my heart stops beating. What a hunk. And so…little dressed." His eyebrows twitched and Julian took a deep, annoyed breath and then, simply dropped the towel he had wound around his waist. "My!" Oliver put a hand over his mouth and inhaled loudly. Kyra turned, her eyes wide. "What a sight! Can I have him? Now?"
Kyra scolded him. "Do you know what nonconsensual sex is called? Rape."
"So unless he grants me his ass you won't let me have him?"
"Exactly. Julian, put something on that named ass. Now."
"You can be a bitch sometimes," Oliver pouted and shed Kyra a not-so-friendly glance.
Julian grinned. "I second that."
"Shut up!" Kyra and Oliver said simultaneously. Julian, defied like that, did not bother to pick up the towel, but walked through the living room in the altogether. "I'm drooling again," Oliver whined.
"The coffee maker," Julian mocked, "Just think of the coffee maker."
"Oh, hmm, yes…" Oliver's eyes were glued to Julian's lower body. "I think every man should shave. It looks so much better."
"Do you shave?" Julian asked, not bothering to sound friendly. He stooped to the lowest cabinet to fetch a new pair of briefs.
"You're so not having this conversation with me." Oliver laughed, catching Julian unawares.
"Why not?"
"I'm talking of subs. You know the expression? The submissive, the slave, the one lying under? You're too modest for that."
"I wear a collar around my neck and a foot chain at night. Technically that makes me a slave. Doesn't that apply to your rules?"
"Both of you," Kyra reminded, "could you change subject, please?"
Oliver willfully did not hear her. He cocked his head and his eyes became small slits in his round face. "Would you truly give yourself to her?"
"If she demands it." He adjusted himself in the underwear and turned to fetch the jogging pants.
"Oh, you don't know what you say."
"You sure?"
"If you honestly gave yourself to her you would stop arguing. You would eagerly anticipate her commands and fulfill them immediately. There would be no thinking from your side, no hesitation."
Julian swallowed. Oliver ogled him. He had heard so many men saying they would do everything, but in the end only few of them had been able to completely give up control. "You mean, she could do with me what she wants and I would just follow?"
"That's what I mean, yes."
Kyra glared at him. "Oliver, stop this conversation! Take the coffee maker and leave!"
Now Julian pondered over Oliver's words. Kyra, from the other side of the kitchen, watched the lines on his brow. "What if…"
"There are no what ifs, Julian," Oliver interrupted. "You have to trust your dom with everything, in everything. You have to trust her with your life and be certain she won't maim you. That's the devotion the dom expects. No discussion or holding back."
"There are people who truly live like that?" He put on a shirt and tucked it inside his pants.
Oliver's good-natured grin widened. "Yeah, there are men and women seeking to lose control over every aspect of their lives. Think of it.
You don't need to take care of your bills, your daily routine or your money. You just follow orders and get sexual attention as a bonus."
"How do those people function in their jobs?"
"The subs usually work efficiently, but long to be free of the need to go to work at all. Some subs run the household and do nothing else. Some have jobs, in which their body is admired, but not touched. Touches are only for the dom."
Julian had begun to slightly shake his head. Kyra could not blame him. Oliver was lucky he had found Pierre and vice versa. They lived together in one house and both were happy to spend time with each other, not only playing games, but being together as partners of their own definition. Sometimes Kyra envied Oliver. She had done so shortly after the breakup with Chris. Being alone in the big house had been depressing, no matter how many of her friends and employees came to visit. Her mother had tried to pamper her while her father had scolded her for dumping Chris. Now, after four months, things were getting back to normal. Hopefully.
"Both of you. If you want this conversation, leave my kitchen," Kyra repeated. "I'm not into discussion mode."
"Sorry to hear that." Oliver took the coffee maker and wound the cord around it. "He is." He grinned broadly. "Have a nice time with your parents. I'm sure they'll be--"
"Out." Kyra pushed at his shoulder, not bothering that her hands were wet from washing potatoes. "If I want your comments I'll drop by."
"Have a nice day!" Oliver sang and vanished over the porch.
Kyra let go of her breath. "Sorry, he's…very much into his lifestyle. A missionary." She propped her hands on her hips. "Don't listen to him too much or you'll find yourself in some kind of locking iron and he…" She caught herself and waved a hand. "Perish the thought. Even thinking about it is strange."
"He shows you what he does?"
"I don't attend his full show, whatever that means. But…" She smiled and it was almost an apology. "How do you think spreader bars and a whip got into my house?"
"I thought so, yes. But that lecture right now… He has lived like that for long, right?"
"When he moved in the neighborhood and people found out how he lives and that he lives with a man…well, imagine people like Mrs. Bickerham to be not so open-minded. I was the first friend he had around."
"Lucky boy."
She grinned. "He should be here to hear that."
"Can I give you a hand?"
"Two if you want to. My parents like it neat and tidy and perfect. So…" She let out her breath. "For today I have to play well organized."
"Okay."
She looked up into his face. "Better not ruin this, Julian. I don't know how they will react and my father's not at all happy with me joining this program, so…there might be comments you don't want to hear."
"Should I better be outside in the kennel?" he asked, getting the hint perfectly.
"No. It's my house, it's my decision. If you hadn't been here in the kitchen that hitman would have killed me. So you earned to be here."
"If I had been locked up in the kennel I would be dead meat, too, Kyra, don't be mistaken."
"I prefer not to think about it. Really not think about it."
"Sounds like the better solution."
"Okay, so only to make this clear--there'll be no argument, no political discussion, no nothing with my father. Behave yourself. I really mean it."
"And if I don't?" The sparkle in his eyes was pure temptation. Kyra did not have the time to answer it.
"Then you'll be at Oliver's place. For the day. And I'll make sure you see all of his equipment."
"Oh, no." His face fell and he turned his back to her. "Pull the knife out you just put there, please."
Kyra heard her parents chat while they walked up the graveled path so she was there to open the door before they rang the bell. "Hi! Good to see you! Come in."
Lara Jennings hugged her daughter one-handed and smacked a kiss on her cheek. "So good to see you, honey! You look pale. Are you all right? You should eat more."
"I'm fine, mom, really." She hugged her dad and took their jackets. "Lunch is almost ready. How are you doing?" she asked her father quietly and he just wiggled his brows. "And you had time to make the salad, mom. That's really kind of you."
"Yes, honey, no big deal." Lara Jennings lifted the salad bowl, her smile all over her small, oval face. The lines of age, but mostly from smiling, were deep. She had used some makeup to highlight her green eyes and to give her lips some fullness. She had been to a hairdresser lately and the fine brown hair, as wavy as her daughter's, was cut and laid to perfection. Kyra was impressed by how much effort her mom had made for this meeting. However, the clothes were homey. The dark green skirt was as old as the knitted shirt, which matched in a lighter green. She wore a long golden chain with a cross to it, decorated with green gems. Even the shoes fitted in color and comfort. "Your car's still parked on the driveway, honey. Don't you use your garage anymore?"
"Oh, I do, but at the moment there's a lot of old stuff in it and I don't have the time to clean up."
"Dad can help and I can, of course, if you want us to."
"Not this week for sure." Kyra led her parents to the kitchen. Julian had arranged glasses for everyone and uncorked a bottle of wine. "May I introduce? Julian Bithrell, Lara and Milton Jennings, my parents."
Julian put down the bottle to round the table and greet them, but his smile died away when Lara gaped at him. Her hands went numb suddenly and, without Julian's quick reaction, the bowl would have shattered on the tiles, its contents lost. "Oops." Julian put the bowl on the counter and, like magic, his smile was back. Lara's eyes were glued to Julian's face and he did his best to ignore it. "Looks like green salad with peppers and corn. My favorite."
Lara stood there, dumbfounded, speechless. It was most undignified and Milton cringed with the effort not to yell at her. Julian made a move as if saying, I can catch you, too, if you fall, but Milton took his wife's arm first. "It's all right, no harm done. Thanks, young man." Milton seemed uneasy, and Kyra was not sure if by Julian's outer appearance or Lara's indecent behavior.
Sorry Kyra mouthed to Julian while Milton led Lara to the table and praised how wonderful it was set. Lara mumbled something about that man being a hunk and so, so tall. Julian smiled impishly and shrugged. "Nice trick," she whispered, only for him to hear, and then she was at the table. "Are you all right, mom?"
"Sure, yes, why not?" But Lara's eyes were wide and she turned her head to see Julian move back into her field of vision. "Have you ever been this tall, young man?"
"Not when I was born," Julian assured her and sat. Milton grinned at him and the men had a moment. "Wine?"
"Sure, yes." Julian poured wine for them while Kyra put the pan with the roasted lamb in the middle of the table. "That looks great," Milton said. "I shouldn't tell you that I starved for a week, but I was so looking forward to your lunch, I can't tell."
"Thanks, dad." Kyra took the compliment for what it was--rare. She knew she was not the perfect housewife and would never be, but from time to time it was nice to work in the kitchen. The thought lightened her mood immensely.
"To a nice Sunday." Milton raised his glass for the toast and shed a quick glance at her daughter. "May efforts be blessed."
They drank and Kyra helped filling the plates. Lara folded her hands and said the prayer over their meal, and then, as if someone had snapped fingers, she looked at her daughter with huge, interested eyes. "I tried to call you yesterday, but you weren't there. Did you go for a run?" Kyra nodded and her mom turned to Julian. She did not really know what to ask him and be polite, so she came up with "And what do you do for sports?"
"Last week I ran with her." Julian's face was pleasant, a half smile on his lips. Milton frowned, and Lara gaped, again. "There was no danger of me escaping. I was handcuffed and your daughter made sure I couldn't get away."
"You should be locked up if you are not working."
"Mom, please, it's my decision that he'
s here today, so make peace with it." The last part was also directed at her father who seemed about to comment Julian's presence. He nodded and understood.
Lara was not so easily silenced. She turned to Julian again. "Isn't that collar something that keeps you from running?"
"No," Kyra said faster than Julian. "It's a method to detect him if he tries to escape. Police can find him anywhere anytime within fifteen minutes."
Lara craned her neck to see more. Julian moved backwards an inch, frowning, but catching his expression of uneasiness. "It doesn't look like metal. More like cloth. How can it be safe? He could rip it off."
"No, Lara, he cannot." Milton put a hand on his wife's hand to get her attention. "See, the moment the collar is opened without a proper tool, fifteen needles with a sedative will hit the escapee's neck and throat." Lara's lips formed a silent O. "He will be knocked out so fast he can't get away." He locked eyes with Julian. "You knew that, I suppose?"
"Kyra told me." He swallowed. "However, if it happens that the collar is unintentionally ripped apart, what then? I'll be out cold." He kept Milton in his stare. "The moment I fought the burglar there was that danger. He could've pulled the collar and then? What would have happened?"
"The collar doesn't break so easily." Milton took the question seriously and Kyra was grateful. Equally for the fact that her mom concentrated on her meal again. "Pulling won't open it. You need a sharp knife or a saw to cut it. So don't worry. That thing doesn't come off in a snap." He waited a moment then said, "Kyra told me about that burglar and that you fought him off. Be sure I'm grateful you were there at the right moment. Your bravery won't be forgotten."
"Thank you, sir."
"I can still see that it wasn't easy to wrestle him."
"No, sir, it was not." Julian lowered his gaze on the table, touched and somewhat embarrassed by the sudden praise. Kyra could see that he had not anticipated kind words.
"Come, eat before it's cold," Lara said, smiling friendly and so very unobtrusively. She had the first bite in her mouth, chewed and frowned. "Good, really." It sounded surprised and Kyra braced herself for another question, but Lara came up with, "How's Oliver, your neighbor? Still running that design studio?" Julian coughed and had to stop eating. Lara Jennings looked at him condescendingly. "You might not know that, young man, but Oliver Hartford is a very special designer. We once met and he said that black leather was the coming attraction. I mean, I don't know if anyone would go out wearing a hood like he did, but the other pieces were very intriguing. And I think they hit the market, right?"