Exchange

by Katherine Rhodes

  Wren put her hand on Ellie’s face. “You did everything right, baby doll. Everything. Hitting him, getting out of the room, letting Emma get you out of there. Now, we need to know what we’re going to do about this. Obviously, Mister Arch is a threat. Do you want to report him for attacking you?”

  She looked at the bathroom, then back at me and Wren. “Can…can we handle this with Detective Haden. Maybe the same way I know Passyunk didn’t really have a heart attack?”

  That caught me off guard, but Ellie’s gaze burned into mine and it was clear she had an inkling of the way Scott Woodall had really died—by my hand.

  “I just don’t want Emma and her mom and dad to have to be embarrassed by this whole thing. What Mister Arch is has nothing to do with them, and I would love to keep them out of it. It’s not their problem.”

  “You know it will be their problem, because they choose it to be,” Wren said. “But if you want to not press charges, we can do that. Haden will be delighted to keep this to herself.”

  Ellie chuckled. “She’s vicious and I like it.”

  “Don’t mess with Detective Haden.” I nodded.

  “Woman is a demon.” Wren laughed. “Go, check on your friend. Tell her we have all of this in hand.”

  Ellie stood and headed for the bathroom, but turned back a moment later, and gave each of us a hug that I thought was going to crush my bones. “Thank you.”

  We watched her run to the bathroom where we could hear Laxmi soothing Emma. Miriam stood up and walked over to us.

  “I hope you two are adopting her soon.”

  “As soon as we can get the paperwork cleared,” I said.

  “Good.” Miriam nodded. “Now, if you’re serious about using my ex-fiancé to help you frame these assholes with their money, we’re going to have to chat a bit about him.”

  Lincoln

  Doctor Temperance Dear Warner was sitting in my main office.

  I could see her through the one-way glass from my more private office. I folded my arms and watched her.

  “Why?”

  Vance raised an eyebrow. “Why what?”

  “Why is she here?” I swept the room in front of me with an upturned palm. “She told me to fuck off, and now she’s here without her man.”

  “She wanted to talk to you about some financial thing,” Vance answered. “And that’s a quote, financial thing. Don’t take advantage of her, Linc.”

  “What?” I stared at him.

  “She doesn’t know money. Well, she does, but she’s not a financial genius. She’s a social worker and therapist and if she thinks you’re toying with her, she’ll take you down before you even realize she’s doing it and leaving you a quaking mass of exposed nerves.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “She’s as good as that?”

  “She’s a surgeon with her therapy. How do you think she has Elutheria doing so well already? She’s a master at her trade.”

  I nodded. I had been fascinated by this woman since her kiss-off at the party weeks ago. Vance had been sending me updates on her, the girl, and the guy she was with. I was just completely taken with her.

  “Lincoln. Remember, she’s got someone. You can’t interfere in that.”

  “The hell I can’t,” I whispered.

  “Lincoln.” Vance’s voice was sharp. And oddly pained.

  I tossed a look over at him. “Why? You want her?”

  “No, I don’t fucking want her,” he barked. He was next to me in a flash and his grasp was painfully hot on my arm. “And you don’t either. She’s just a piece of ass you’re going to move on from in a few weeks. Leave her alone. See what she wants, and either do or don’t help. Don’t slither into her bed.”

  “Ruin all my fun.”

  Vance’s usual quip that showed up there was missing. One more glance at him had me wondering what the hell this man knew about Wren that he wasn’t telling me. I sighed. “Fine. A financial thing.”

  “Probably also going to try and pay you for the charter of your jet.”

  That had me whipping my head around. “What?”

  “Didn’t you read the briefing this morning?” He chuckled. “Your ex-fiancée took you up on the offer to let her use the plane in Northeast Airport. They went out to the Hamptons on Saturday afternoon and back on Sunday morning.”

  “Why?”

  “No idea. A party? It’s that time of year.”

  “They aren’t Hamptons people. Not at all.”

  Vance lifted an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

  “Doctor Wren Warner, an orphan, twice and an invalid in the eyes of the perfect glitterati. Doctor Fischer Skillman, adopted, devout wealthy Roman Catholic parents with a son in the clink. Doctor Laxmi Rana, an adopted and now disowned lesbian Indian woman, Elutheria Stavros, orphan and former child sex worker. Miriam Crownin…well. My ex, and that’s enough said.” I folded my arms again. “Even though I guarantee they are invited they’d never go. The Hamptons are not them. So, they went out there for a reason.”

  Vance chuckled. “Find out?”

  I nodded. “Find out.”

  He gave me a stiff nod and headed out of the room with one last, “She’s not yours, Linc!”

  Tossing off a middle finger I wasn’t sure he saw, I walked from the private office into the main office where Wren Warner sat.

  She stood up as soon as I walked in, and I motioned her back to the seat.

  “Mister Foster—”

  I cut her off. “Lincoln. My name is Lincoln, please.”

  She nodded, and watched me as I didn’t take a seat but walked to the bar I had at the other end of the office.

  “Drink?”

  She cocked her head, and glanced beyond me for just a moment. “Bourbon, neat. Just a finger.”

  Holy shit, she knew how to drink. I bobbed my head in appreciation—the bourbon I had on the bar was twenty-five year old oak aged. It would be a sin to have it straight up or on the rocks.

  I poured two low-balls, hers with one finger, mine with two. I didn’t always have a chance to enjoy the bourbon, so I was taking it. She sniffed and sipped, and nodded in appreciation.

  “So, how can I help you, Doctor Warner?”

  “Wren,” she answered.

  “How can I help, Wren?”

  “I’m here for two reasons. First, I would like you to bill me for the use of your jet this past weekend. We had an emergency and it was incredibly helpful. But we—”

  Holding up a hand I stopped her. “Not necessary. I don’t use the northeast jet very often. Miriam was welcome to it, and you are certainly welcome as well in the future.”

  “Mister—Lincoln, that’s generous but unnecessary. Let me pay you back.”

  “Generous, but unnecessary.” I let a little smirk curl my lip.

  She let out a little laugh. “Okay, fair enough. We won’t be making a habit of that, anyway.” She took a sip of the bourbon. “Second topic?”

  My hand swept the air, motioning her to continue.

  “We need your help. Specifically, we need your financial genius to help us ferret out and stop a sex trafficking pipeline that is currently operating in this city.”

  I stared at the honey-amber liquid in my glass. I knew about The Pipeline, of course. It had been discretely mentioned to me if I had need of its use. I was disgusted, but the way it had been offered, there was no way for me to report it. It seemed most of the wealthy elite knew of The Pipeline.

  I also had heard whisperings of how fucking pissed off the organizers were that Scott had died. He had the most of the information about it, and had the schedules and deliveries handled with an adroit hand. But he’d also taken most of that to the grave.

  And once again, there was nothing I could do because there was no way to prove any of this was going on.

  How honest did I need to be with this woman?

  I leaned my hands, and tapped my fingers on the blotter. “Wren. What makes you think I would in any way be able to help you with this?”


  “You might be the greediest son of a bitch I’ve ever met, but I don’t believe you’re dishonest. I don’t believe you have a penchant for fuck—using underage girls and boys. And I have a starting point.”

  I had to school my features. That was interesting. I was always looking for a starting point for below the board and illegal activities to crush them. Dishonesty didn’t appeal to me.

  “You’re right, Wren. I’m not one for lying and cheating. I’m not one for abuse of people or systems. I don’t like illegal activities, and I’m really not fond of people who feel they are above the morality the rest of us hold ourselves to.”

  She didn’t flinch at my words. That was good.

  “But I’m a finances guy. How on Earth could I possibly help a criminal investigation that doesn’t officially exist.”

  “Forensics.”

  I twisted my lip. “I’m in money, Wren. Not dead bodies.”

  She smirked, and holy shit what that did to my insides. “I’m not asking for your forensic biology, Lincoln. I’m asking you for forensic finances.”

  I sat up. “There’s such a thing?”

  “If there’s a dead body connected to it, yes.”

  “This is intriguing.”

  She leaned forward. “This is also off the books. I’ll pay you for your trouble, but we can’t let this search be found by the subjects.”

  “I thought you said they were dead.”

  “One of them is.”

  “Ah,” I said, nodding. “Woodall.”

  She flinched this time, and I realized I’d given away the fact that I knew about the Pipeline.

  “Let me explain something before you think I’m a participant in that disgusting and atrocious activity,” I said, steepling my fingers. “I am an honest businessman with normal, cis bisexual appetites. However, when you reach certain elite circles, you are…shadowed in. That is, certain persons feel you out, and see if you’re interests range into the kinky or the perverse. You never get enough information to really figure out if they are trying to trap you or invite you in. I’d wager that most of the elite don’t even realize it’s happened. I did. And I had nothing to go on.”

  Wren nodded once. “I understand. But what if I had a starting point for you?”

  The chair squeaked as I leaned back. I had to make a note to have it replaced. “And we could trace this back and toss these fuckers in jail or in a body bag? I’d be interested.”

  “Even if this isn’t exactly a sanctioned investigation?”

  I chewed my lip for a moment. “I dislike dishonesty. But I really, really hate pedophiles and these shitbags need to be stopped, don’t they? They’re all at a level where they think the law can’t get to them…even after Woodall’s supposed heart attack.”

  “Coroner ruled it natural.”

  “I’m sure,” I mumbled. Standing from my chair, I walked around and leaned my ass on my desk folding my arms. “Does this mean I get to work directly with you, Doctor Warner?”

  She was unmoved by me and it turned me on in the worst way.

  “Temporarily, yes.”

  I drummed my fingers on my arm. Working closer with her, stopping pigfuckers from ruining children, and the potential to increase my societal standing by being a hero? Don’t mind if I do.

  “All right then, I’ll help. Do you have a plan?”

  “We’re going to have a small meeting tomorrow night at Miriam Crownin’s house in Collingswood. Seven?”

  I nodded. “Agreeable, Doctor Warner.”

  “Please. My name is Wren.”

  She held her hand out.

  “Lincoln, but friends call me Linc.” I grabbed her hand.

  …She stood with a flaming sword, holding it against the skin of a pale, thin neck. The flames did not burn, but licked dangerously across the skin.

  “Did your master think, for an instant, I would shirk my duty?”

  “You are a whore…”

  Another sword appeared. This one a red blade wet with blood. I looked at the man who held it—Fischer.

  “She is not a whore. She was never, and will never be a whore.” The sound of those words were a defense, a rebuke, a challenge and a declaration.

  The thing—an imp, a devil, a demon, who knew—chuckled for only a second then coughed until he spewed blood. He looked at us, his face covered with the substance. “Master has the blessings of El to rid the After of the likes of you.”

  My own hand shot out, the black blade of my own design and forging finding a clear spot at the neck of this creature. I knew the blade was cold, and I saw the thing flinch as it touched his skin.

  “Your master tosses about the name and blessing of El if a stiff breeze from the brimstone offends his sensitive nose. El is not so fickle—he knows what and who we are.”

  “The very thing meant to control you is controlled by you.”

  Wren threw her head back and laughed. “You think they control me?” She leaned in close, the flames illuminating her face eerily in the half light. “Don’t you know that surrender to trust guarantees that I am always, always in control?”

  “You are a whore.”

  I straightened. “Let us send your master a clearer message, shall we?”

  My cold blade sliced his head clean from his shoulders…

  I gasped, grabbing my hand and staggering away from her.

  “What the fuck was that!?”

  Wren

  The sensation of the buckle being pulled tight was almost enough to make me come instantly.

  It took everything I had not to scream and cry and beg for Fischer to just fuck me already as I lay there tied to our bed, spread wide for his enjoyment.

  For my enjoyment as well.

  His lips trailed over my collar, leaving a hot, wet path down my chest. His mouth skipped my breasts, but his fingers didn’t, and he plucked at my nipples, eliciting yelps and whimpers from me.

  His lips and hands joined forces, wandering down the rest of my body, smoothing over my hips and thighs, and finally the junction of my legs. There, they were joined with his wicked tongue.

  “Oh, shit,” I yelled.

  Fischer smiled up at me. “Do you need the gag, little bird?”

  I shook my head, but seriously considered it for a moment. There was something especially hot about not being able to yell out.

  He lowered his tongue back to my clit as his fingers found their way inside me.

  I was putty in this man’s hands. There was no denying that at all. He knew it, and he used it, and he made me scream his name every time I came.

  This time, though, with the new restraints, I couldn’t move to lace my fingers though his hair, or pluck at my own nipples to heighten my pleasure. I couldn’t wrap my legs around him and pull him in closer. It was all just him and his fingers, tongue, and cock.

  “God, I dream about this pussy,” he whispered.

  “It’s yours,” I whispered harshly.

  “Mmm. I know.”

  His finger rimmed the edge of my entrance, knowing full well there were more excited nerves there than just inside me.

  He was indelicate with me a moment later, roughly shoving two fingers deep in me, and twirling. He lifted his lips and tongue off me for just a moment.

  “Come, Wren. Come.”

  I couldn’t hold it back. My body arched up off the bed and gave into his demands. I bit my lip hard to hold back the scream of delight that I wanted to let out—

  When the sensation of the orgasm tripled as he slipped his cock in my pussy.

  I fucking loved when he did this. His hips moved hard and fast, pistoning his dick in and out at a shocking, unforgiving pace. My climax would not slow down. Every move of him inside me made my whole body pull in, pulling more of the climax out of me.

  He wrapped an arm around my waist and lifted me just a little. A moment passed and I felt his finger trace the crease of my ass while I was still panting and squirming and coming.

  One simple touc
h of my dark entrance, and there was no holding in the scream of pleasure he wrung out of me.

  I hadn’t known I could come so much or so hard, but I did. Fischer still wrung more as his own orgasm exploded and his hot ropes of cum spilled deep inside me.

  I passed out. My mind just couldn’t handle it.

  A gentle hand was stroking over the skin of my stomach as I slowly woke. I was on my side, and there was a very warm body behind me under the sheets.

  “Mm. Hello, little bird,” Fischer whispered.

  “Holy shit, Fischer,” I managed.

  “Yeah, I was a little scared there for a second.” He chuckled. “Then I realized you just fainted.”

  “Everything on me is Jell-O.” I let out a little laugh.

  He drew my hand up out from under the sheets. “I’m afraid you’re going to have some bruises, Wren.”

  “Hell, if you can knock me out with a fucking like that? I’ll wear sweatbands and long sleeves for the rest of my life.”

  His laugh was rich and smooth. “Well. We’ll say the restraints were a roaring success.”

  I smirked. “Mm. I want to tie you up next time.”

  A soft hand gave my ass a squeeze. “And someone liked the backdoor touch.”

  “Did you forget I’m actually pretty damn open about sexual experiences?” I tried to roll over but failed. Big time. I was just boneless.

  With a gentle hand, Fischer rolled me to my back and then rolled me into his chest. His fingers danced in my hair, and I felt really, really good.

  “I do remember,” he whispered. “I remember you were about to sleep with my very lesbian partner.”

  “And I have slept with my very lesbian best friend.” I smiled against his skin. “You think we didn’t…play?”

  “Jesus, you’re making me hard again, woman.”

  “Goodie.”

  That laugh again—rich, warm, and smooth. He smoothed a hand down my back and landed on my ass. “I could seriously stay in bed with you all day every day.”

  “Not sleeping, I hope.”

  “A little sleeping. A little eating. A lot of fucking.”

  I grunted in agreement. “Stupid real life, getting in the way of a life full of dick.”