Yes, Monday would be the first day of the rest of Molly Durant’s life.
He was Bacchus and he would see to it.
Chapter 17
“So far, it’s not looking promising.” Brady handed Richard a Styrofoam cup of something that was supposed to be coffee.
Richard looked down at the mud-like substance, disheartened when the contents clung to the side of the cup. Definitely not good. He took a sip anyway and could swear he felt it burning a hole on its way to his gut.
“We’ve fed the membership list through NCIC and gotten no hits. Now we’re trying Interpol on the off chance our perp practiced in Europe before coming here.”
“That’s a long shot, isn’t it? But then, most of police work is,” Richard said.
“You got that right.”
They headed back to Brady’s office and closed the door.
Richard didn’t feel nearly as tense as he had on Friday, but only because Molly agreed to stay home from work today. He’d been with her when she’d called her boss. She pleaded a fever but said she could spend a little time on her computer at home if he could arrange for her to have access.
The man actually sounded pleased and set things up right away for her. As soon as this crisis was over, Richard would do his best to talk her into quitting. A bright woman like Molly shouldn’t have to kowtow to insensitive morons who would think it’s great she’d work even with a fever.
“I still think our perp is on that list,” Brady said. “But at fifteen hundred long, if he hasn’t set a foot wrong before, finding him is going to be a pain in the ass.”
“The proverbial needle in a haystack,” Richard agreed. “Are there any other leads?”
“We’ve received a couple of calls from patrons at that bar where Virginia Townsend was last seen alive.” Brady sorted through the file, pulled out the witness transcripts, and handed them to Richard.
“About the only two things the witnesses all seem to agree on was that she spent some time talking to a man and that he took on the role of a Dom.” Richard looked up at Brady. “Unless the woman was just naturally submissive to everyone.”
“Sister says not, but then, her sister was surprised to know Virginia frequented such a place. Since she had been identified as being a regular, maybe she recognized the Dom in our perp. What did you mean, submissive to everyone?”
“Some women who identify themselves as subs are like that with all men. They can’t have a romantic or sexual relationship with a man unless he dominates her. A woman like that in a bar mixing with men, she’s going to treat every man she meets like a potential ‘master.’”
“Yeah, well Hog Heaven has a rep as being a biker bar and a hangout for the fetish crowd. Is it a different type of clientele than Reckless Abandon?”
“Yes, essentially. Jordan’s club isn’t open to those who are so seriously into the lifestyle that they present a danger to themselves or their playmates.”
“So if a woman chose to hang out at Hog Heaven instead of Reckless Abandon, it would mean, what?”
Richard saw where he was going with that line of reasoning. “RA is a private club, and one has to be sponsored by an existing member and then vetted by Jordan. He’s pretty thorough. I frankly would have been surprised if you’d had a pop from NCIC from his membership list.”
Brady looked out his large office window toward the entrance of the squad room and swore. Richard followed his gaze and saw the reason for his scowl. Two men Richard immediately identified as federal agents made their way straight toward them.
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No, you’ve been authorized as a civilian consultant. Maybe they have something to add to the mix that will help.”
Looking at them, Richard didn’t think so. And since the two FBI agents didn’t look any happier to see Brady with company than Brady had been to see them, he thought the next few minutes just might be interesting.
* * * *
Molly got up from the computer in Alan and Richard’s home office and stretched. She’d been working for the last hour and a half steady and needed a small break. And what a unique and refreshing thing, to be able to get up, wander into the kitchen, and brew her own cup of coffee.
I wonder if there’s a market for a small private accounting firm?
Maybe she’d been a little hard-headed about this owning-your-own business thing. Maybe she’d like being her own boss. Well, no surprise there. How often had she been accused of being bossy? She’d never given the matter serious consideration simply because, as much as she had been known to leap headlong into things blindfolded in her personal life, when it came to job or money, she was, well, she was just a chicken.
But if she lived here, she could do it. She could open up a private accounting firm. Or, at least, she thought she could. She’d need to look into the legalities of it and of operating a business out of this address, though she thought Alan and Richard both had done so in the past.
She walked into the kitchen and set about brewing a single cup of coffee. Maybe the time had come to leave Nicholson Manufacturing. She really wasn’t happy there, especially since Norm hired his nephew. And what, did she really want to spend the rest of her life preparing financial statements every month, haggling with auditors and tax people at every year end for her salary of forty-five thousand a year and two week’s vacation annually?
That didn’t seem like a very appealing future.
Molly reached for a mug when the doorbell rang.
Probably a UPS delivery for Alan or Richard. Both men received parcels from time to time. Still, caution made her look out the security viewer in the front door first.
She pulled back, shook her head, and looked again.
Brian the slug stood on the stoop, a look of absolute boredom on his face, and a large file folder in his hands.
Anger warred with impatience as she threw open the locks. Norm didn’t mention anything about using the slug as a messenger boy. But then, who else would he use? Everyone else there had real work and real responsibilities to fill their days.
Sending his nephew to her home, albeit her temporary home, went beyond the pale and pretty much cast the deciding vote in the stay-or-quit sweepstakes.
How did Norm know where I was?
Panic raced through her as she reached up to reset the locks. Before she could, the door burst open and she was thrown to the floor by the force of it. Her head banged into the small table in the entrance hall. It toppled, the tiny glass vase it held smashing to bits against the floor.
She looked up and into the barrel of a handgun.
“Now, slave, there you are. I told you that you didn’t understand your purpose. Come. You are about to find out what it is.”
Brian’s voice sounded different, almost otherworldly. Yet something about it twigged a sense of the familiar. He leered at her, the same insulting look he’d been treating her to all week.
And then she understood. She knew where she’d heard this voice, understood why she’d felt such adverse negative reaction to him all week.
“You’ll come with me now. We’re going to go outside and get into my car. And if you give me any trouble whatsoever, I will kill you.”
“It was you who kidnapped and murdered those other two women?”
“I needed to practice for you, didn’t I? Now get up.”
Molly looked into his eyes, saw they looked a little mad, and she believed him. Slowly she got to her feet, never taking her gaze from his. Once she was in the car, surely she could find a break. They would be driving through mid-afternoon traffic. Traffic would slow and she could jump out, run. Here and now, he stood close enough that any shot would kill her and yet not close enough for her to try and tackle him.
She’d taken some self defense classes a couple years ago. She wished now she’d kept them up.
“Yes, I see in your eyes you understand that I am claiming you. The moment I saw you being led to auction, I knew you were meant to be mine. After
all, I saw you first.”
He stepped to the side and placed the file folder he carried in front of his gun. “Keep your gaze on the ground and step outside. Directly in front of you, my car awaits. Open the door to the back seat and get in.”
Molly walked outside, her eyes scanning the street, disappointment a crushing wave when she saw no one walking or standing close by. Still, Brian had already proven himself a murderer and, from what he’d just said to her, deluded. Did he think her so meek a sub that she would obey him? Then she’d use that to her advantage and play the part until she got into the car. The moment he got behind the wheel, she’d jump him from behind. Could she put enough pressure with her arm around his neck to make him pass out? She believed she was scared enough, and mad enough, to do just that.
“Open the door slowly and get in, but do not sit. No, I want you in face first, prone on the seat.”
Molly reached out and opened the rear door of the car. She would make her move the instant he got behind the wheel, that little prick. Focusing on trying for the best position, with her right hand under her to help her spring back up fast, she moved into the car.
A sharp nip on her ass made her cry out. He fell on top her, pushing her down onto the seat. As his hand came around to cover her mouth she began to struggle. A wave of dizziness swamped her. He undulated his hips, and she felt the ridge of his erection against her. Another wave of dizziness, this one accompanied by nausea, made her gasp.
“We’ll just stay like this a couple of minutes, slave. The drug will work quickly and keep you under for a while. Now sleep. And when you awaken, you will be home and your real training will begin.”
Molly’s head spun as she tried one more time to throw him off her. In her ear, his lurid chuckle grated, and then it echoed off into nothingness.
* * * *
Alan whistled as he crossed the street from the car park. Molly’s spot was right next to his, and it pleased him immensely to see her car there. It also pleased him that she so unhesitatingly did as Richard asked and stayed home today.
Yes, part of the reason was her newfound resolve to be a bit more sensitive to Richard’s need to keep his loved ones safe. But part of the reason she’d agreed so readily, he believed, was because she needed a change.
Maybe she’d be interested in starting her own company, a one-woman accounting firm. Well, one woman to begin with. He would certainly use her professional services, and he’d bet Richard would, too. There must be other small businesses that would benefit from the services of a top-notch accountant.
Alan looked at the keys in his hand, maneuvering the lot so he held the door key. Perhaps tonight after dinner, he would bring up the subject.
His thoughts scattered and he froze in place for one long second. The front door stood cracked open.
He reached for his cell phone even as he pushed the door open farther with his foot. He hit number one on his speed dial.
“Molly?” He called her name loudly even though he knew, he knew, the house stood empty.
“Grant.”
Thank God, Richard answered. “Is Molly with you?”
“No. Damn her, if she went out after I expressly told her—”
Alan heard crunching underfoot. His frightened gaze took in the table, the broken glass.
“Not willingly. The front door is open and the table and vase knocked over. Oh God, Richard, I think he took her.”
“I’m on my way. Stay outside. Alan, do you hear me? I’ll be there in fifteen minutes tops. You stay outside and wait for me.”
Because he’s afraid of what I might find inside. Richard taking care of him, even at such a moment.
“All right, yes, I’ll wait outside.” He knew there would be nothing gruesome to find inside because the house felt empty. Molly was gone, taken against her will. He knew that, just as he knew she was all right. So far.
Richard beat his estimate by half, and he could see why. Jordan Fitzpatrick pulled up in his new Mercedes and Richard leapt out the car before it fully stopped. Behind Jordan, red and blue emergency lights flashing, a brown Buick, and a black and white patrol car also screeched to a stop. He recognized the man who got out of the Buick as Tom Brady, a friend of Richard’s. Two uniformed officers emerged from the black and white, guns drawn.
“The door was open. I didn’t touch anything and I didn’t go beyond just inside the door.”
“Stay here with Jordan,” Richard said.
Alan saw both fear and anger on his lover’s face and a similar expression on Jordan’s.
“Richard and Brady were at my club. We thought if we could all three go through the membership list we might see something that would give us a clue, and we were just about to do so when you called.” He turned his black eyes on him. “Are you all right?”
“Scared witless,” Alan admitted.
“Yeah, me too.”
Richard came out of the house. “Brady’s calling for a forensics team. She’s not there. The door doesn’t look forced.”
“But it could have been. We can’t tell just by looking.” Alan said,
“He might have been dressed in some innocent guise so that she felt comfortable opening the door to him,” Jordan said.
“We have a time frame, anyway. Within the hour. There was a single cup of coffee brewed and the burner is still on.”
Alan nodded. The one cup maker shut off after an hour.
“Listen, why don’t you come back to my place—we’ll get that membership list and the three of us will pour over it. We’ll get Marcus and Chastity to help. Richard,” Jordan looked solidly at the other man, “you can’t stay here. Let the police have room to work.”
Richard nodded. “Yes, you’re right. Just let me give a key to Brady, and I’ll forward the house phone to my cell just in case.”
Alan had never seen Richard so shaken. His gaze followed him into the house, then turned to look at Jordan.
“We’ll find her,” Jordan said. “I’ll call Marcus and Chastity, let them know what’s going on. Marcus will get to printing those copies out for us.” He headed down to his car and stood by the driver’s side door, talking. When he closed his phone and put it away, he simply stood and waited.
Richard emerged from the house only a couple of minutes later. “Brady’s going to swing by Jordan’s place when he’s done here.” He looked directly at Alan then. In a rare public display, he stroked his face and placed a kiss on his cheek. “We’ll find her, love. We’ll get her back.”
His master’s confidence bolstered Alan’s. Yes, of course they would find Molly and get her back.
She belonged to them.
Chapter 18
Molly struggled to open her eyes, to pull herself out of sleep. She felt muzzy and sore. She tried to move her arms but couldn’t. Something was wrong, something was horribly wrong.
Memory flooded her on a gasp. She opened her eyes, blinked.
Oh God.
She lay prone on a flat surface, cold steel, like a table. Her wrists were encased in handcuffs, bare steel ones that held her arms totally immobile on either side above her head. The table seemed to end just below her hips, so her legs hung down slightly and were spread. She felt metal encasing her ankles and she couldn’t move them either, couldn’t bring them together, and she very much wanted to do that.
She was totally naked.
Molly paid attention to her body, tried to determine if that bastard had raped her. But she didn’t feel violated. Despite the amount of sex she’d been having recently, she believed she’d know if he’d done that to her while she’d been unconscious.
Other than being restrained, cold, and having a bit of a headache, she was so far unharmed.
She didn’t fool herself into believing even for a moment she’d remain that way for long. Did he plan to kill her? She didn’t think so. Recalling her meeting with him when he’d been at Reckless Abandon, and the words he’d said to her before he’d drugged her, he thought she was his property. His
sub.
Would playing the part ease her treatment, lower his guard? Give her the opportunity to escape?
She had no answers, only questions. Inside her, fear warred with anger. Cold, she shivered.
She tried to get a look at her surroundings, but poor lighting hampered her efforts. She felt as if she was in a fairly small room, as the space didn’t have that wide-open feeling. She listened but could hear no sounds of traffic, no city sounds at all. Soundproofing? Turning her head as far as she could to the right, she thought she saw a window, one with a curtain hanging down. Faint light seeped around it so she knew it wasn’t fully dark out yet.
So, likely the room had no soundproofing. If she screamed, would anyone hear her? Anyone other than her captor?
Molly blinked. She wanted out of here. She wanted to go home. She wanted Richard and Alan. She’d beg Richard to punish her for being so stupid as to unlock the front door.
Oh God, her men must be going through hell! Molly regretted that almost more than she regretted being in this horrible situation.
Her thoughts cut off when the door opened.
“Good, you’re awake. I’m eager to get started.”
He came toward her, and she found she could look up, and see him. Dressed as he had been that night at Reckless Abandon, he leered at her. He walked around the table, and when he stood by her feet, she felt her face heat with embarrassment.
“Your cunt looks quite delicious. I was amazed, when I undressed you, not to find more of your former master’s marks on you. A little redness on your ass and that was all. Have you proven so amenable to being dominated, then? Seeing your haughty ways at work, I wouldn’t have thought so. But maybe diva is a role you played in your job. We’ll see.”
Molly didn’t answer him. Everything inside her froze when he reached out and brushed a finger against her pussy. He pressed in, just slightly.
“You’re wet. I’m not surprised. You’re a genuine sub, aren’t you?”
She knew she wasn’t wet. He must be totally in his own fantasy world. Molly kept quiet. Maybe he expected that, and maybe she was playing into his fantasy, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing fear in her voice.
Brazen Seduction Page 15
