by Nia Farrell
Lathering her bush with shower gel, he took her razor and started to shave her, starting at her mound and working his way south, rinsing the razor in the bathwater between each short stroke.
“I need you to open wide, Isabella. Bend your knees and spread them as far apart as they’ll go. That’s it. Good girl.”
Leaning forward, he spread her lips with the fingers of one hand and finished shaving her with the other. He checked her, studying her pussy, running his fingers over the slick, smooth skin to make sure that he’d gotten everything.
She fought to not hump his hand.
“Wait until you feel me,” he said, “with nothing between us, just skin on skin. My lips on yours. What’s all this gleaming pink, Isabella? That’s not bathwater making you wet.”
“No, it’s you,” she said, flustered. “You get me this way. I can’t help it.”
Ego stroke.
Leaning forward, he fisted her hair and kissed her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and claiming every inch before breaking it off. He’d robbed her of breath by the time they were done.
“Later,” he promised. “Right now, we’re going to get dried off and dressed. Uncle Jack’s running the diagnostics on your car this morning. He’s supposed to call when he knows something. We may need to drop by Daniel’s Den before we go mobile. I have more places to show you today, including where the war ended. Think your pussy’s up for the ride?”
She nodded. “I think so.”
Mad Dog grinned. “Then let’s go.”
Chapter Fourteen
Mad Dog watched Isabella get dressed, taking prurient pleasure in the sway of her bare breasts, the jut of her hips, and her keen awareness of her denuded mound. Piece by piece, she covered her body in a matched set of black lace underwear, cushioned sports socks, jeans that molded themselves to her figure, and a pretty summer blouse that buttoned up the front and tucked into her waistband.
“Do you want me to braid your hair for you?”
When he’d done it for his former submissives, they seemed to enjoy the attention.
Isabella was no exception.
“Yes, please,” she gushed, giving him a look of pure adoration.
He rewarded her with a smile. “Find a hair tie and your brush. Give me the tie, get all the tangles out, and I’ll take it from there.”
She immediately obeyed. Disappearing into the adjoining bathroom, she returned with a covered rubber band and a vented-back hairbrush.
“Here, Sir.” The impish look in her eye told him that she knew exactly where her words would hit him—right below the belt. Jesus Christ. She was gonna be the death of him…but at least he’d die a happy man.
“Give me the hairbrush.”
She paused as she was raising it and blinked.
“Now, Isabella.”
She handed it to him.
“Turn around.”
A quick pivot, and she was facing the other direction.
Mad Dog weighed the brush, eyed her rump, and smacked her with it. “Cocktease,” he growled. Snaking an arm around her front to hold her in place, he spanked her again. The half-dozen swats were hard enough to make her dance and yelp.
“Now, settle, babygirl, and do what I told you to do.”
“Yes, Sir.” Rubbing her ass, she pushed the words past clenched teeth.
He returned the hairbrush and watched her work. Starting at the bottom, she ran the bristles through her long, black locks, working out the knots until her hair was tangle-free. Once she was able to brush it from her crown down, he took the hairbrush from her and set it aside. Using his fingers, he divided her hair into three sections and started to plait it.
His phone rang when he was only half finished. Isabella shifted uncomfortably. “Settle,” he murmured, lifting his voice on the last syllable to make it less of a scold and more of a croon. “Uncle Jack can wait a minute. I’ll call him back as soon as I’m done.”
Mad Dog finished her braid and secured it with her hair band. Fishing his phone from his pocket, he flipped it open and checked his missed calls.
He had three this morning, all from Lee Rimmer.
Shit.
“Excuse me, Isabella. I’m gonna need to take this. It’s from one of our managers.”
Isabella used the opportunity to check her own phone.
He didn’t bother listening to the messages. He just hit redial and braced himself for a royal ass chewing. Lee didn’t like it when he stayed after hours. Last time, Alura had given him a private performance that had ended up pretty much like last night. Lee had been ready to fire her, until Mad Dog said that Alura’s last day would be Lee’s, too.
“Jesus Christ, Luke!” she grated into the phone. “Of all the stupid things you’ve done, this takes the cake!”
“Hey. Hey! Hold on now, Lee! Back the fuck up and start at the beginning.”
“I got a call from the county this morning, asking to meet me at the club. Thanks to your little stunt last night, they threatened to shut us the fuck down. Thank God for time stamps. You had her there after hours, and she didn’t drink any of that beer that you set on the stage.”
A sense of doom settled on Mad Dog like a shroud. “How the fuck did they know? Where the hell did they see it?”
Lee barked a harsh laugh. “Where the hell does anyone see anything these days? The internet. Just search for Krissy Kandle kid sister. You’ll find it easy enough.”
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!
Mad Dog looked at Isabella. Her eyes were locked on her phone. Her mouth was frozen in a silent scream. Every bit of color had washed from her face. Tearing her gaze away to meet his, she dropped the phone and raced to the bathroom. The next thing he heard was the sound of her breakfast coming up.
Then her phone started ringing. Unanswered, it went to voice mail. It rang again, and went to voice mail.
He found her settings and silenced it for incoming calls and texts.
Isabella looked like death warmed over when she came back into her room.
He reached for her, thinking to reassure her, but she swatted his hand away. “Don’t you dare,” she hissed. “Don’t you dare touch me. You wanted to stay. You wanted me to dance, and strip and…and…oh, God! Everything is ruined. Ruined! There’s nowhere I can go without someone recognizing me as Krissy Kandle’s slutty sister. This is your fault!” she screamed at him. “Just get out. Get the fuck out of my house, or, swear to God, I’ll call Uncle Giovanni and tell him to take care of things!”
It killed Mad Dog to hear her, but she was right about one thing. They needed to call her uncle.
“Isabella, baby, there aren’t enough words to tell you how sorry I am, but what’s done is done, and we’ve got to think about how to handle it. We need to be smart about what to do next. We need to find out who the fuck leaked the security footage, but first, we need to call your uncle. He’s got attorneys and judges in his pocket who can do a cease-and-desist. They’ll force them to pull down the video and make it disappear. It might never go away completely, but it won’t turn up on a search engine after that. Until that happens, we’ll be stuck in this nightmare. Kicking me out won’t make it go away. It just means that you’ll be facing it alone, and I’m not going to let that happen. You’re right. It’s my fault, and I’m going to do my best to see that it’s handled, sweetheart. Now, I’m gonna call your uncle. I’m hoping he doesn’t put a hit out on me, but I can’t blame him if he does.”
Isabella burst into tears.
Mad Dog opened his arms.
She threw herself into them.
“That’s the third time I’ve made you cry,” he said. Hugging her tightly, he kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back. “Not quite the effect I want to have on a woman.”
“I’m s-s-sorry,” she choked out. “L-let me…talk to him. I’ll tell him n-n-not to…k-kill you.”
“When you’re ready,” he said. “As soon as you get your breath, I’ll give him a call. Everything else follows, capisce?�
��
She nodded her head against his chest.
Two minutes later, he made the call with the same sense of dread that he’d experienced when his sister and his mother had been kidnapped by the Blackwater Demons MC. There was no way to whitewash it. It was ugly, dirty business, and he was just going to have to deal with it.
A disembodied voice from the past answered on the first ring.
“Mr. Visconti. Luke McLanahan.”
“McLanahan.”
The voice was ice cold. Shit.
“Yes, sir. It’s been a while. I suspect that you know why I’m calling.”
“I do. Is she there?” Each word was sharp as a stiletto.
“Yes, sir.”
“Put her on.”
Mad Dog had no choice. Looking at Isabella, he took the phone away from his ear and held it out to her.
“He wants to talk to you.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Promise me you won’t kill him!”
Isabella blurted it out, unable to help herself. Despite what had happened, the thought of losing Luke was too much to bear.
Her uncle sighed heavily. “Bella, Bella, Bella. What am I to do with you? Have you thought about your poor mother? The heartache you’ve caused her? You were the good one, Bella. What the hell happened?”
“I fell in love,” she said simply. She met Luke’s piercing blue gaze, caught, and held it. “I love him.” Still looking at Luke, she smiled and mouthed, It’s true. I love you. “Whoever posted that footage of us did it without permission. Luke has someone he thinks can figure out who leaked it. We were hoping that you might know people who can get an injunction or whatever to take it down and get it off the internet. Can you help us? Please?”
He cleared his throat. “It’s already being taken care of,” he told her. “And once this is done, I swear on my mother’s grave, I will try and stay out of your business. As long as he makes you happy, Bella.”
“He does make me happy,” she assured him. “He does. He does. Like no one has, or can, or will.”
“I hope he’s taking care, Bella. Just in case, sometime this morning, you will stop by the corner pharmacy that the family uses. They’ll go over everything with you, to get you protected.”
Isabella felt her face flood crimson. Anna’s birth control pills had required her medical history, a pelvic exam, and a Pap’s smear before the doctor would order them. She shuddered to think what her uncle could access, when he wanted or needed something.
“We’ll take care of it. I’m going to give you back to Luke now. Thank you for everything, Uncle Giovanni.”
She held out the cell phone. “Here.”
When Luke reached for it, their fingers touched. For a moment, neither one of them wanted to move. Isabella was the first to slip away, leaving the phone in his possession.
He cleared his throat before putting it to his ear. “Yes, sir. I’m here. Yes. Michael O’Flaherty. I’m calling him as soon as we hang up…that is, unless you’ve already called him. No? Good. I’ll get him on it. No one messes with what’s mine,” he swore. “It’s unfortunate, but Isabella and I will get through this, sir. We appreciate your help. Thank you.”
Lifting the phone away from his ear, he ended the call.
“One more,” he said, punching numbers. “Hello, Crash? Mad Dog. Yeah, I know the fuck it’s Sunday morning. Tell my sister she’ll just have to wait for that dick of yours. I need your other head. Are you listening? Good, because this is serious shit. Last night, my girl and I—yeah, I’ve got a girl. God dammit! Will you shut the fuck up and listen? My girl and I were at Paradise Found after hours. Someone leaked security footage of us on the internet. Get what you need now, before the lawyers get it shut down. Search for Krissy Kandle kid sister.”
Isabella cringed, remembering the blazing headline. Krissy Kandle’s Competition? The Porn Star’s Kid Sister! The video clip had shown her bound to the stripper pole, with Mad Dog eating her out, then fucking her.
Luke was quiet for a moment, waiting. “Save it, bro. You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. What I need you to do is find out who leaked the goddamn footage. No, I don’t think that Cricket’s got the skills to do it. Alura? Maybe. She seems more apt to be tech savvy. Whoever did it, I need a name or names and solid proof. They’re gonna pay in blood if I have anything to say about it. Yeah. Right. Later.”
Mad Dog closed his phone and just looked at her. “Michael’s on it,” he said. “He doesn’t know how long it will take him to get an answer, but he’ll let us know as soon as he does. Meanwhile,” he said, canting his head. A hint of that cocky smirk of his shaped one corner of his mouth. “Is there something you want to say to me, Isabella? It sure as hell sounded like it when you were talking to your uncle.”
“I love you?” Her voice lifted, making her sound uncertain.
He came toward her like a stalking lion. “You gotta do better than that.” He snaked his hands around her waist and pulled her tight against him. “Tell me.”
She cupped his face with one hand and put her other over his heart. “I love you,” she whispered, searching his eyes. “God help me, but there it is.”
Lowering his head, he nudged her nose with his, then brushed his lips against hers, teasing them. Opening his mouth, he fastened it over hers and gave her a soul-searing kiss that melted her defenses and left her wide open and vulnerable. She was shameless when it came to Luke “Mad Dog” McLanahan. Whatever he wanted, that’s what would happen. Whatever pleased him, that’s what she would do.
Once, anyway.
Mad Dog held her for a long moment. So many emotions were roiling inside her. Anger. Resentment. Bitterness. Shame. Determined to release them, she focused instead on the beat of his heart, the feel of his powerful body, the comforting touch of his hands.
Isabella exhaled a deep, cleansing breath. “I can’t believe that the phone here has been quiet. But then, my parents are West Coast. Two hours behind us and probably not even up yet, after staying out late last night. Unless someone calls them, it will be a while before they watch any kind of news.”
“I muted your phone,” he murmured. “After the second call. When you feel up to it, you might want to take a look and see if there’s anything important. Meanwhile, how’s your stomach? You should try to keep a little something on it when your nerves are tested, give your stomach acids something to eat on besides you. Ulcers are no fun.”
“No, they’re not,” she agreed, “but nothing sounds good.”
“Got ice cream?”
Isabella looked up at him. “Yes.”
“Got stuff to make your Belgian waffles?”
“Um, I think so.”
“What about fruit? Berries of some kind?”
“Strawberries,” she said.
“Perfect. Think you could eat an Alaskan Belgian waffle with ice cream and strawberries on top? I’d split it with you.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Are we fixing this for me or you?”
Mad Dog grinned. “For you, of course. I’m just aiding and abetting here. I’d love to watch you eat every bite. I’d be happy just to lick your lips when you’re done.”
She thought about it for a moment. It did sound good, and she should have everything to fix it. If not, the local Albanian restaurant served several kinds of Belgian waffles. Her favorite was the Turtle, topped with ice cream, caramel syrup, milk chocolate shavings, and chopped roasted, salted pecans.
“Let’s go downstairs and see what’s there. If we don’t have everything, I’ve got a Plan B.”
A search of two refrigerators and the pantry failed to turn up any Belgian waffle mix. “Pancake mix isn’t the same,” she told him, sighing her disappointment. “I guess I could do pancakes instead.”
“What about Plan B?”
Mad Dog was leaning against the pantry doorframe. His six-feet, four-inch body filled the space with tattoos and testosterone.
“Country Gardens,” she said. “They ha
ve waffles, crêpes, breakfast all day.”
“It’s public, Isabella. If anyone’s seen the clip, we’re gonna get recognized. You think you’re ready for that? Do you think you can handle it? I mean, I draw attention as it is. No brag, just fact. Occasionally, someone wants to do more than look. I’m gonna be hard pressed not to take someone out if he comes on to you.”
“Then I guess this will be a test for us both. Maybe we’ll get lucky. Maybe we’ll get seated in the back, and no one will pay any attention to us. Maybe nobody’s seen it yet. Maybe it’s already taken down.”
“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe not. But if this is what you want, then that’s what we’ll do. Get your ass ready to ride.”
They asked to be seated in the back of the restaurant. The hostess and waitress were polite and efficient. In a matter of minutes, Isabella was cutting her first bite of a Turtle Waffle.
“There’s plenty here to share,” she told Luke. “Dig in.”
She didn’t have to ask him twice.
“Good choice,” he said, cutting a second, bigger bite. “A first for me.”
Isabella grinned. “I’ve had a lot of firsts this weekend. Can’t say that all of them were good, and my seat’s still sore from your belt, but I’ll live. What did you want to do today?”
“Depends on how everything shakes out. I was going to finish my war story, but that’s ancient history and current events take priority. We need to see about your car. I need to know what Michael has come up with. I need to do something for Lee, for the extra shit she’s having to deal with because of this. And if we need to lose ourselves for a while, I have a place in mind, but it’s a drive. When we get there, you’ll want those hiking shoes and your camera.”
“Sounds like I need to go there anyway,” she said, intrigued.
“You do. I already had in mind to take you. It looks like it may be sooner rather than later. But for now, let’s swing by Daniel’s Den and see how Uncle Jack is coming with your car.”