The Checkpoint, Berlin Detective Series Box Set

by Michele E. Gwynn

  A home-health nurse was hired by Ed to take care of his estranged wife, and only out of love for his daughter. He knew the burden the girl carried upon her young shoulders after he left. Guilt ate him up even as he selfishly stayed away, living with his new girlfriend, and starting a new family. Meanwhile, Sarah graduated high school in her hometown of Helotes, Texas, and while friends and classmates went on to college, she remained behind, going to work at the library she’d come to love and see as a haven from the ugliness that was her life.

  Her days were spent working, and her nights, caring for her mother, who’d reached stage four in her cancer. Each morning, Sarah would rise, dress for the day, and then bathe her mother, dressing her, feeding her, and making sure she took her morning medication before Vangie arrived to take over her care for the day. Most days, her mother went off on a tangent, spewing bible verses, and reminding Sarah to remain chaste and pure. She still felt a little guilty over her relief when, after prolonged illness, Mary lost her ability to speak.

  The silence was a blessing.

  As her mother spent more time sleeping, Sarah stayed longer at the library after hours. Vangie knew the girl needed the break. It was there, within the quiet walls of the building, after her co-workers left for the day, that she would pick out a new book, and curl up into one of the overstuffed chairs. It was also there that she first explored her sexuality. Lost in the tale of a Duke seducing the daughter of an Earl, she’d first felt desire. The book went into great detail on how he touched the woman’s breasts, caressed her nipples, and reaching further down, slid his fingers deep within. Having never before experienced more than a stolen, wet kiss from a boy, Sarah had no reference point for comparison.

  Knowing she was alone, she’d continued to read, but allowed her own fingers to skim her body, and touch all the places the Duke touched Henrietta. The sensations were pleasant, but it wasn’t until she’d reached her core, sliding her hand inside her jeans, and letting her fingertips rub her most sensitive spot, that she first felt the tingles. As she read on, she rubbed harder, until a wave of passion sent her over the edge. After enjoying her first orgasm, there was no going back, no putting the genie back in the bottle. She wanted more. Sarah knew she would wither away and die inside if she didn’t escape the living hell that was her life. She knew she needed to get out into the world and discover herself.

  She had prayed to God for an answer. That answer came three weeks ago when Mary Brown finally passed away peacefully in the night. Sarah awoke on that Monday morning, dressing for work as usual, and then entering her mother’s room to get her prepared for the day before Vangie arrived. That was when she’d noticed her mother lying there, eyes closed, not breathing.

  Instead of sorrow, she’d felt only an intense relief. Numbness followed.

  Over the next several weeks, she’d planned a funeral, and discovered that Mary had a rather large life insurance policy, one that named her only daughter as beneficiary. Sarah felt the first prickling of tears as she realized her mother had shown her in the only way she really knew how that she cared. With the money necessary to settle debts, she still had plenty left over in which to break free of the tiny Texas town where she’d felt trapped for so long.

  She made plans, shopping to replace her drab, utilitarian wardrobe with modern, sexy clothes including a few lacy undergarments from Victoria’s Secret. She purchased a Louie Vuitton luggage set, and then sat down in front of the world globe her father had given her for her desk. With new hope in her heart, she spun it, letting it go and then stopping it abruptly with one finger. This was her first destination.

  A trip was plotted for Europe, one that would take her first to Barcelona, and then to Berlin. From there, wherever a train took her. Sarah wanted to experience it all, freedom, love, sex. It was past time. She was a twenty-three-year-old virgin, and it was time to put that into the past. She booked her fare, and hopped a flight out of San Antonio to Atlanta, Hartsfield Airport. There, she boarded her flight to Spain, and she spared no expense.

  First class accommodations featured reclining seats that let her stretch out. She slept for at least four hours, fitfully, on the overnight flight from Atlanta to Barcelona. Somewhere around halfway through the journey, Sarah awakened from a disturbing dream, one in which she was trying to leave her house, but every time she walked out the front door, she ended up back inside. And her mother was yelling from her sickbed, “You’re never going to leave me! I’m not letting you go.”

  Rattled, she looked around at her fellow passengers. An older woman sat across the aisle to her left. She’d fallen asleep partially reclined with a book on her lap. She was snoring loudly, her mouth hanging open. Next to the snorer was a man who was most likely her husband. He lay turned toward the side of the plane with his backside pointing toward his wife. As Sarah watched, the man farted. Sarah stifled a giggle. So much for first class!

  Her eyes wandered to her right. The seat next to her was not occupied. But the next one over was filled with a rather large woman. She sort-of oozed into the unoccupied seat. The woman was wearing a bright print muumuu-style dress in fuchsias and orange tones. Her eyes were covered with one of those sleeping masks. She snored lightly with both hands resting on her protruding belly.

  Across that aisle lay a man, sound asleep. He was long, indicating his height. He’d kicked off his shoes—an expensive looking pair of brown leather loafers. He was wearing a dark blue suit with a lighter blue button-down shirt. The suit jacket lay on the empty seat next to him along with a briefcase. Further perusal revealed a handsome face in repose. He had a strong jawline, dark brows, long black eyelashes, and dark brown wavy hair. His lips were full and slightly parted. Sarah wondered at the color of his eyes.

  Her gaze wandered back down over the rise and fall of his chest. It was wide and strong. He looked fit, like he worked out regularly. His hands, at rest at his sides, were tanned with well-manicured fingernails. Her mind instantly began fantasizing about who he was, whether he was single, or if he had a wife or lover waiting for him wherever he was traveling. Her eyes returned to his lips. They looked soft, inviting, yet firm. She wondered what it would feel like to be kissed by a sexy, grown man with nice lips. Her lids drooped as her thoughts turned inward as she tried to guess at the color of his eyes.

  “Can I get you anything?”

  Sarah jerked, startled. “What?”

  A smiling flight attendant stood behind her cart of drinks. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you. Would you like some juice or a soft drink?”

  Sarah shook her head no.

  The flight attendant looked at the old woman and man and moved on.

  Removing the blanket, Sarah stood, heading toward the lavatory. Minutes later, arriving back at her seat, she noticed the cabin lights were on and the man had awakened. He was sitting up, sleepy-eyed, but still very handsome. He looked at her and slowly smiled as if they’d shared something intimate. His eyes were green.

  AMSTERDAM

  April 2014

  It had been seven months since the redeye flight out of Tegal, and still he couldn’t stop thinking about the angel he’d left behind in Berlin. It had been a long time since his soul craved someone so much; not since his Paul was a little boy. It’s really too bad that they have to grow up, he thought. Paul, with his blue eyes and dark curls framing his cherubic face, ignited a fire inside that threatened to consume him. But having Paul, so sweet and trusting, and so easily led, quenched that fire with his innocence. The tears that fell from those big blue eyes were like rain on the hottest day, and so he’d caused a storm as often as he could get away with it, never minding that he damned himself with each infraction, every assault upon the boy. But Paul grew—into a man filled with rage. His hatred was an ugly thing despite the fact that Paul was still every bit as beautiful fully grown as he’d been while just a boy. Men, however, just wouldn’t do. He did still love Paul, very much, although the lifestyle he’d chosen—irresponsible and incorrigible—was not one of
which he approved. Women! Nothing but women and more women. Women are simply cattle, good for nothing except for making money! His business relied on using women, and it relied on the very type of men he eschewed—men like Paul.

  There’d been many young boys in the interim, but none that possessed his mind, body, and soul the way in which Paul had, until the angel of Berlin. I must have him, but how?

  He picked up his mobile and searched through his contacts. Picking the one he needed, he hit the CALL button.

  “I’m not available now, but you know what to do.” BEEP. The voicemail began to record.

  “It’s me. I know you don’t want to hear from me, but I have a business proposition for you. Call me back.” The man ended the call and stared out the window of his office overlooking the famed Red Light District in Amsterdam.

  On the street below, customers and tourists mixed. You could always tell the difference because the tourists stopped to gawk while the regulars walked with purpose to their chosen destinations. On the corner, the two famous old whores, twins Lulu and Merry Vandane, were signing autographs and taking pictures with the gawkers. He remembered when he first began his business running a brothel. He knew next to nothing about the ins and outs of such, but he knew men wanted women, and they would pay good money for no-fuss sex. He tried charming the two old Hoerens to come work for him, knowing their fame and the fact that they were twins would draw customers. They wouldn’t budge. The bitches, he thought. They’d played hardball with him, demanding seventy percent of their own take, leaving not much for him, but as they pointed out, just having their names on the list would bring in men eager to sample Amsterdam’s legalized prostitutes, so when their dance card was full, the other working gals could take the overflow. The gambit worked and he’d made a lot of money for the two years Lulu and Merry had worked for him before going into business for themselves, and eventually retiring after fifty years servicing every Tom, Dick, and Harry that wandered into their doorway. They’d written a few books and put out a documentary film, and now they were considered one of Amsterdam’s treasures. Tourists came to meet them and take ‘selfies’ with the very type of women they would spit on anywhere else in the world. He both hated, and grudgingly admired them.

  A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

  “Enter,” he said with a growl.

  “Sorry to bother you, but Yeline is garnering complaints again. She refused two customers this morning.” Daniel, the effeminate young man who was his secretary, stood with his hands folded in front of him, head down, his glasses threatening to slide off his slender nose.

  “Yeline,” he said with distaste. Yeline was a Ukrainian import who often forgot her place. He paid her well and still she caused him problems.

  “What for this time,” he demanded.

  “She claims the first one smelled like fish, and the other had bad teeth and severe body odor.” Daniel wanted to laugh but knew better. His boss could be nice when he wanted to be, but his mean streak was legendary.

  “She’s a whore! What does she care how they smell? They come in, fuck, and leave within fifteen minutes. Surely she can hold her breath that long?”

  The young man stood quietly and waited for an order.

  “You tell Yeline that if she turns away another paying customer, I’ll not only not pay her, but I won’t send her grandmother any more of her wages, either, and the old bitch can freeze come winter. Further, if she does this again, I will personally ensure that every dockhand and unbathed fishmonger gets a free pass to her room.”

  The man’s anger was palpable. The secretary turned to leave, intending to immediately deliver the message; the sooner the better for Yeline. He hated seeing the girls get into trouble, and Yeline had always been nice to him. He was stopped at the door by a hand on his shoulder. He froze. His boss could move fast for an older man with a cane.

  “Is everything set for tonight’s show at The Dungeon?” The Dungeon was one of his boss’s many sex clubs. It catered to those who liked a little pain and domination—or a lot—in their sex lives.

  Relieved that was all he wanted, Daniel turned his head and replied, “Yes. All the lighting and stage props have been set up. Thomas is overseeing the final details, but he said there is nothing to worry about. Your guests will get an amazing showing.”

  He patted the young man’s shoulder. “Good, good. Now go and tell Yeline what I’ve said and tell her this is her final warning. Any more of her bitching and it’s back to that shithole mining town she came from.”

  Daniel walked out, shuddering. Deportation was the last thing Yeline would want, but compliance with his boss’s rules was just as bad more often than not. The poor girl was stuck, what with his boss keeping her passport locked away with the others. That was how he controlled these women. Sure, his business was legal, but the means by which he employed many of the women was not. The government regulations were lax, and inspectors could be bought off cheaply. It was the illegal and ugly side of a publicly legal business. As long as the government received their tax payments, they were happy not to look too closely.

  Back in the office, the man looked impatiently at his phone. Paul wouldn’t call him back. He knew this, but he also had business to attend to that night. Tomorrow would be soon enough to pay the recalcitrant pup a visit. He picked up his overcoat and cane, preparing to leave. He had guests to entertain this evening and there was still much to do. As he walked out of the office, the two employees left behind released a collective sigh of relief.

  Chapter Two

  BARCELONA WAS GORGEOUS! Sarah had barely flagged down a taxi to take her to her hotel before she began to look around at everything like an excited teenager. The sun was shining in the morning sky. People were going about their day, looking very stylish while doing so. She noted that Europeans dressed far better than Americans. So far, she hadn’t seen one man exposing his underwear while wearing baggy pants or one woman dressed less than ‘to the nines.’ Back home, it was normal to see women wearing sweatpants, hair undone, and without makeup while out. Here, the women presented well; very chic.

  The cab pulled up in front of the Hotel Claris. The five-star structure was in the middle of town next to the Passeig de Gràcia, which featured an abundance of shops for tourists.

  Sarah pulled out her wallet. “Por favor, ¿cuánto?”

  “Dieciséis euro, setenta, señorita.” The cab driver tipped his hat respectfully after Sarah handed over the fare with tip.

  “Que disfrute su estancia,” he said, smiling at the crazy American girl who had just over-tipped him. (Enjoy your stay.)

  “Gracias, señor.”

  A bellhop approached, taking Sarah’s luggage and placing it on a trolley. “Bienvenida.”

  “Hola.” Sarah smiled as they walked into the lobby and approached the front desk. She checked in, handing over her passport for inspection. She was given the key to a room on the fourth floor.

  Riding up the elevator, the young Spanish bellhop tried to engage her in conversation, but it quickly went south as he realized her Spanish was limited and his English, non-existent. He looked to be all of eighteen—a very young-looking eighteen. Sarah thought he was quite cute and would be handsome once he grew up, but for now, he appeared far too young for her taste. She craved a man with maturity and sophistication, someone who could take-charge, and knew his way around the female body. This boy looked as if he hadn’t even experienced his first kiss yet.

  They exited the lift and turned right, walking down the hall. Her room was midway down on the right. Inside, the modern décor welcomed her. Wood floors, contemporary furnishings, and every amenity greeted her tired but excited eyes.

  She tipped the bellboy, thanking him in her meager Spanish. He smiled awkwardly at her, then turned to leave her alone in her room.

  Sarah sat down on the edge of the bed and lay back, falling into the thick duvet. Whatever will I do first? Her stomach grumbled.

  “Guess that answers that!”
Laughing, she got up and began to unpack a few items. Once she’d hung her clothes to get the wrinkles out, she picked up her toiletries and headed off to the bathroom for a quick hot shower. An hour later, Sarah was refreshed, dressed in jeans, colorful cork-heeled sandals and a bright peach tank top. She was ready to find the nearest restaurant. It was nearly lunch time. Room key and purse in hand, she walked out into the corridor and down to the lifts.

  In the lobby, she approached the front desk and addressed the female clerk, who stood smiling at her in her uniform of white blouse and blue skirt and blazer.

  “Excuse me. Can you recommend a good place to eat close by?”

  “Sí, sí. My cousin owns a very good place. You will like it. You just go two blocks down and turn right at the second street. It will be on the left. It is called La Mediterránea.”

  “Gracias.” Sarah thanked the girl and turned to leave.

  “Tell them Maryella sent you, okay?”

  “Okay, I will. Thanks.”

  Two men entering the hotel paused to ogle Sarah as she walked by, admiring the sway of her hips in her new jeans. Unaware of the attention, she walked through the lobby doors and out into the bright sunshine. The sound of cars driving by and people talking as they moved along the sidewalks greeted her ears. She headed in the direction indicated by Maryella. Her stomach grumbled again. Okay, okay. We’re going!

  The heat of the day enveloped her as she stepped out into the fresh air. All around, new sights caught Sarah’s eye. She found herself looking at everything, trying to soak it all in. She stopped now and again to peer into storefront windows and admire their wares. Around her, people passed going about their day, either to work or just enjoying leisure time. All were dressed beautifully, adorned in ways that complimented the architectural feel of this small portion of Barcelona. A smile bloomed on her lips. For the first time in a long time, Sarah felt free, and even happy.