Dangerous Daddy Box Set

by Blake, Zoe

  “No! No! Let me up,” she begged.

  Flipping her back into position, he could see her cheeks tinged pink as tears glistened in her eyes.

  “I don’t think you’re allowed to spank an employee like that,” she pouted as she crossed her arms over her chest.

  “I did anyway,” he responded, a challenging light in his eye. “And I will do it again if you ever lie to me again.”

  Phoebe nodded her understanding.

  “Good. Now tell me why you suspect my disagreeable secretary of murder.”

  * * *

  They spent the next few hours going over everything. They had cleared the kitchen table to make room for the books she had gotten at the library, her copies of the student files, and his copy of the naval and police reports.

  “Here, right here. I knew it. It’s not a pentagram with a crude carving of Satan. It’s the wendigo,” exclaimed Phoebe as she held up the dusty old volume they had checked out of the library. It was the published journal of a fur tracker from the seventeenth century. It was a wealth of firsthand information on the tribes in the Buzzards Bay area at the time.

  Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m still not seeing how a three-hundred-and fifty-year-old ghost story somehow plays into a random murder from today.”

  “That’s because you are trying to think through it logically,” explained Phoebe.

  “Well logical thinking is part of the Marine training,” quipped Michael.

  Her eyes narrowed in a glare. He loved pushing her buttons. Damn, he couldn’t ever remember having this much fun with a woman, despite the fact that the topic of conversation was two gruesome murders.

  “We agree that the murders could not have been done by the two suspected midshipmen, right?”

  He nodded. “Right. They don’t fit the profile and they both have alibis for the time period of both murders.”

  “I’ve also determined that neither has any particularly influential parent who would lead us to suspect meddling with the details of their alibis or any other such nonsense.”

  “We both agree the homeless man theory is just bullshit put out by the Navy.”

  “I’m surprised you would admit to that.”

  Michael shrugged. “Marine.”

  Phoebe laughed. “Is that your answer for everything?”

  “Yes,” he responded, giving no quarter.

  He watched as her expression grew thoughtful. “Is that also why you are handling the news of my being a journalist investigating a possible cover up in stride? Because it impacts the Navy and perhaps not you as a Marine?”

  “No. I’m handling this in stride because we both want the same thing. The truth. I became a Marine to protect the vulnerable. I have absolutely no interest in letting a murderer go free because it might cause the Navy some momentary bad press.”

  “Collaborating with me could cost you your job,” she whispered. “You have to know that is not what I want out of this.”

  Michael stroked her cheek. “Babygirl, I wouldn’t have been assigned this position if my superiors thought I would just look the other way. I was brought here to change the old boy way of thinking. Trust me. They are perfectly aware of my character and what I am capable of. My career will be just fine. And besides, if you think any of this compares with what I had to deal with in Fallujah—” He left the rest unsaid.

  He liked how she blushed at his words and touch. Yeah, he could definitely get used to having her around. She was a fascinating mix of intelligence and vivacity coupled with stubbornness and just the right amount of crazy.

  Clearing her throat, she continued. “I know it is a stretch but hear me out. Mrs. Ludtz went off the deep end two months ago after her husband was found cheating on her. I’ve heard stories of all sorts of erratic behavior.”

  Phoebe then related to him the strange scene she’d witnessed the day of his run. How Ludtz was dancing and singing strange nursery rhymes in the woods. It was odd to be certain but that didn’t make her a murderer.

  “Yes, but how does being pissed at a piece of shit husband suddenly lead to murder?”

  “That’s the piece of the puzzle I don’t have,” she admitted. “I agree with your sheriff and the police report about the markings on the women’s backs, that it could be an indication of a woman unable to lift the dead weight. It would also explain why the victims were strangled and not burned. I can’t say I know for certain, but I imagine there is a great deal more involved with trying to burn a body than simply strangling someone. The fact that it perhaps requires more strength and agility than Mrs. Ludtz possesses could be another argument for it being a woman who committed the murders. Plus, people would have seen the fire and come running, possibly catching her in the act.”

  “And how does the whole mad monk and wendigo tradition fit in?”

  “At first I thought it was just some nonsense, but now I’m not so sure. It says here the wendigo was not just associated with cannibalism but also insatiable greed, gluttony and selfishness. What if Mrs. Ludtz has truly come unhinged and she associated those women with the woman who stole her husband away, that she somehow equated his mistress with selfishness and greed for taking something that wasn’t hers?”

  “Do you think it’s possible Mary Bruen was Mr. Ludtz’s mistress?”

  “It’s possible. What if Mrs. Ludtz believes that after killing Bruen she herself became a wendigo? There was the bit about the liver missing. What if Mrs. Ludtz…ate it? Cannibalism leads to a human transforming into the evil spirit of a wendigo,” mused Phoebe out loud.

  “You realize how insane all this sounds?”

  “I do,” she admitted.

  “Right, well tomorrow after you leave I will track down Mrs. Ludtz’s husband. If anyone has answers for us, it will be him,” said Michael as he gathered their empty wine glasses and the two empty bottles and took them into the kitchen.

  Phoebe followed behind. “I’m sorry. Did you just say after I leave?”

  “Yes.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not going anywhere. This is my story and my investigation. I’m going to see it through.”

  Michael grabbed her by the waist and lifted her high till she was sitting on the counter. With the raised height, she was at eye level to him. Placing a hand on either side of her hips, he leaned in close. “Listen very carefully, princess. You are catching the first flight out of here tomorrow. Just because I didn’t mention the fact that you are the fucking spitting image of the two victims doesn’t mean I didn’t notice. I clocked that the moment I laid eyes on you that first day in my office. Why do you think I tried to get you to leave?”

  “So? Lots of woman look like me!”

  Grabbing her by the back of the neck, he pulled her in for a quick kiss. “No, beautiful, they don’t. You are obviously her next target. She has made that more than clear with the symbol on your door and the ransacking of your room. If it is her, she is becoming even more erratic and unpredictable. Who knows what she will do next? Unfortunately, I can’t have her arrested without more proof. I’ll talk to her future ex-husband and hopefully learn enough for the sheriff to get an arrest or search warrant. In the meantime, I want you somewhere safe…far away from here.”

  Phoebe opened her mouth to object.

  “Don’t argue with me on this, Phoebe. My mind is made up. When this is all over, I’ll come and get you.”

  He should have been suspicious the moment she grew silent. The moment she didn’t fight him. Instead, his mind was on more pleasurable pursuits.

  * * *

  After a brief truce where they spent an amazingly passionate night in bed and enjoying the feel of her in his arms when he awoke, the peace between them was once more broken when she broached the subject of her leaving.

  “I’m not,” Phoebe insisted.

  “Trust me. You are,” he fired back.

  They continued to argue, kiss, make love, then return to arguing all morning till the late afternoon.
Then the time came for him to put her into a taxi to the airport and for him to leave for his meeting with Mr. Ludtz.

  Wrapping his arm around her lower back, he pulled her close. Placing a hand under her chin, he lifted her face to his. “This isn’t over between us. Once it is safe, I will come to New York for you.”

  He wasn’t sure what would happen after that, if she would consider staying with him in Massachusetts or if he would need to find an assignment in New York but it honestly didn’t matter to him.

  He had found something he wanted.

  Her.

  And he would do whatever it took to keep her safe and by his side.

  Tapping her on the nose, he teased, “And don’t worry. I promise to share all the gory details with you for your story. You will get no military cover up from me. If you are right about Ludtz, then it is you who solved this case, and you earned the right to write about it.”

  Phoebe nodded and got into the taxi without another word.

  Again, he should have been suspicious. He should have questioned her uncharacteristic silence. Her lack of fight.

  He should have known she would defy him.

  Chapter 12

  Present day, later that evening.

  Hush now, Phoebe, do not you fear

  Never mind, Phoebe, the Mad Monk is near

  The sickly sweet sing-song voice echoed around her empty bedchamber. Phoebe’s mouth opened, the lower lip trembling in a macabre pantomime of a silent scream. Fear kept her immobile. A fear so intense it struck straight through, making her very bones feel brittle and weak. A cold sweat broke out over her brow as she searched the darkness in vain, trying to peer past the moving shadows. Every outline was suspect. Every hint of sound, real or imagined, a cry of alarm, but there was nothing.

  Through the distorted glass of her window, she could see the burnt orange and crimson glow from the macabre dance of fire as black cloaked figures ran about with torches.

  Casting a glance to her left, she could see a faint halo of light surrounding the cracks of the door. Through it was the dark outline of a heavy bolt. The door was locked tight. Of course, someone had managed to get into her locked rooms before this.

  It had been a warning.

  A warning to stay away, to leave this place.

  A warning she was putting herself in danger.

  A warning she had ignored.

  It was a small, single room chamber with just enough space for a bed, desk and cozy chair in the corner. Barely larger than a student’s dorm room. Surely she would know if someone had entered the chamber.

  Leaning over, she flicked the switch to the dome ceiling light. Phoebe both craved the security the brightness would bring and dreaded what it might show.

  Nothing happened.

  Darkness still reigned.

  She felt a fresh wave of terror. It took Phoebe a moment to recall she had removed the light bulb herself earlier in case he had tried to search her room looking for her. She wanted the darkness to shield her, to hide her from his prying, intense gaze but now she wondered what else the darkness was hiding. Had someone else learned of her true purpose for being there? Learned about the lies she told to get to the truth?

  Again she scanned the darkness. The chamber was silent and still save for the distant shouts and cries from those outside.

  Maybe she just imagined it?

  Her nerves were already strung tight from hiding from him…from lying to him. It only made sense her imagination would lean towards the dark and forbidding, that her mind would conjure up monsters under the bed and a mad monk specter to go bump in the night.

  Hush now, Phoebe, do not you fear

  Never mind, Phoebe, the Mad Monk is near

  The raspy voice was definitely coming from inside her bedchamber.

  Phoebe launched herself at the door. Throwing the bolt, she ran into the hallway. She was halfway down the long corridor before the chill of the flagstone seeped through her thin socks. In her haste, she had not even grabbed her boots. Throwing a nervous look over her shoulder, the corridor remained empty. The darkness was broken by shafts of weak, blood-stained light. Its source a row of tall, cathedral windows along one wall, in the center of each, a ruby Red Cross of Saint John, a remnant from the school’s monastic past. A luminous full moon shown through each cross, bathing the space in an eerie red glow.

  Keeping an eye on the empty corridor, Phoebe reached into her back pocket for her phone. Needing a meager sense of safety, she leaned against the cold stone wall, protecting her back. She pressed the power button and waited for the screen to come to life.

  No bars.

  The earlier storm must have knocked out what passed for cell service in this remote area. Phoebe didn’t even know who she would call. The police? Would they even dare to cross the gates onto the property? Probably not. Worse. They would probably just call him and expect him to handle the situation. At that very moment, she wasn’t certain what she was more afraid of…the possible murderer haunting her…or his wrath when he found out she had disobeyed him.

  One thing was for certain, she needed to keep moving. Needed to find someplace to hide. Someplace no one would think to look for her.

  For a brief moment, she wondered if she dared to return to her chamber for her boots but then thought better of it. She would go to the gymnasium. The locker room would be a bright open space and perhaps she could borrow a pair of shoes from one of the open lockers.

  With at least an immediate plan in place, Phoebe headed off down the corridor, feeling more confident the further she got away from the twisted rhyme and whoever was singing it. Stopping before a somber looking portrait of some old man in a white wig who seemed to be staring down at her in disapproval, Phoebe tried to remember where the gym was in the labyrinth of old hallways and buildings.

  The moment’s distraction cost her dear.

  A strong arm wrapped around her middle as a large hand covered her mouth, stifling any hope of a scream for help. The hard, unrelenting form pressed along her back radiated masculine strength. Phoebe kicked out as her nails clawed at the hand pressing against her lips. Desperate to escape, she tried twisting and turning her body. The band of muscle wrapped tightly across her stomach squeezed harder, pressing painfully into her ribs, cutting off her air. Wrenching her head to one side, Phoebe tried to break his grasp. Her stockinged toes scraped along the flagstone for purchase as with his superior height he easily lifted her off her feet.

  Still she fought.

  Then she heard a deep, throated chuckle.

  Warm lips skimmed the shell of her left ear. She could feel the faint touch of his breath along the exposed delicate skin of her neck. Inhaling precious air through her nose, she caught the spicy scent of his cologne.

  “I warned you what would happen if you defied me, princess.”

  Phoebe’s bright green eyes grew wide at the darkly whispered threat cloaked in an endearment. Her pleas were muffled nonsense from beneath his hand.

  Already lightheaded from her fevered gasps for breath, she failed to fight when he shifted his grasp to effortlessly lift her over one powerful shoulder.

  “You need to learn that no one…no one…defies my command.”

  She could feel him pivot. Just as he crossed a threshold and slammed the door shut behind them, she reclaimed her voice.

  The faint echo of her cry was swallowed by the dark shadows of the cold, uncaring stone corridor.

  * * *

  “Let me go!” she raged as she pounded on his lower back.

  Michael had flung her over his shoulder and carried her down another long corridor and then into a darkened room. As he flicked the light switch, she saw the familiar chairs and desks of her own classroom. Striding to the front, he finally dropped her back onto her feet.

  Pushing her hair out of her face, she stormed, “What the fuck, Michael?”

  Racing up to her, he paused a hairsbreadth from her face. Raising both his hands almost to her neck, he then clenched
them into fists before turning away without saying a word. She watched as he restlessly paced a few steps away from her. He was dressed in a long black robe. A monk’s robe. It gave him an even more ominous air as he stomped from one end of the small classroom to the other in his agitation.

  A few hours ago when she jumped out of the taxi the moment it was out of view of the academy grounds, she was resolute in her purpose. This was her investigation. What kind of reporter would she be if she left before it was over? Before the climax? She also admitted she was curious to see the pageantry of mad monk’s night. All the midshipmen running about in black robes carrying torches. The energy and excitement that would culminate in the lighting of the bonfire at midnight. How could she possibly leave before seeing it all? Besides, it was not as if she didn’t know to suspect Mrs. Ludtz. The other victims were not so lucky. That is probably why there were no signs of a struggle. The poor things didn’t realize they were in danger until it was far too late. She knew better. It was not like she would blissfully follow Mrs. Ludtz into the dark forest for fuck’s sake! She was smarter than that, and besides, the sheriff had probably arrested her by now. How could she give up the opportunity to possibly interview Mrs. Ludtz in jail? No. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. She simply had to stay.

  Had to defy him.

  Yes, a few hours ago in the waning daylight it had all seemed so clear. Michael was being over-protective, letting his Marine training kick into hyperdrive. She would be perfectly fine on campus among the midshipmen.

  Then everything went wrong.

  The voice in her chamber. The eerie sight of the faceless midshipmen as they scattered about the grounds. The feeling of isolation…of danger. She knew then with icy certainty that Michael would be furious. Her arguments which had felt so solid and definite earlier now seemed weak and petulant. After all, Michael could have had her escorted off campus for her duplicity…or worse. Instead, he had listened to her theories on the murder and decided to act immediately even though she technically had no proof of her suspicions. He believed in her. Despite her lies, her outright deception.