Mistaken Trust (The Jewels Trust Series)

by Spain, Shirley

  “Affirmative,” Marshall said.

  Turning to Jewels: “Pick it up nice and easy and hand it to me,” Hines said, motioning with his head at the AR while keeping the MP-5 securely pressed against her neck.

  Awkwardly, she bent sideways, picked up the AR, held it in front of her body.

  “I’m going to remove this muzzle from your neck just a wee bit and when I do, I want you to slow and easy, slide the sling of that AR over my arm and onto my back. Understood?”

  Doing exactly as Hines instructed, Jewels slung the rifle over his arm and across his back.

  “Everybody in,” Hines ordered.

  With his hands still raised up and out to his side, Marshall entered the cabin. After taking a few steps, he turned around to face Hines.

  Releasing his grasp on Jewels, angrily he shoved her toward Marshall, like a pissed-off husband throwing his unfaithful wife at the scum of a man who had lured her into sin.

  Jewels fell into Marshall. Catching her, his muscular arms broke her fall. They were strong. Familiar. Warm and comforting. Nothing at all like Hines’ hug in the Escalade.

  Quickly removing the magazine, Hines unloaded the AR, dumping the gun on the floor next to the door and tossing the magazine toward the fireplace. It landed by the plywood cabinet doors.

  “Are you okay?” Marshall asked, steadying Jewels on her feet.

  Gazing up at him, her brows compressed. Squinting, she looked at him like he was speaking a foreign language and was trying to understand him. “I-I thought you were dead,” she whispered, caressing his chiseled jaw with the back of her hand.

  “Reunion’s over,” Hines thundered, clanking another round in the chamber of the submachine gun, just for effect.

  A shiver zipped Jewels’ spine.

  Marshall picked up on it, pushed her behind him.

  “Down on your knees, fingers laced behind your head,” Hines ordered Marshall, training the front sight of the MP-5 on his chest.

  Marshall complied. Like a curtain being dropped, his sinking body revealed Jewels. She stood as a rock, her face still painted in a look of disbelief that Marshall Watters was alive.

  Hines stepped closer to Marshall, aimed the submachine gun at his ear, looked at Jewels, “Say good-bye to your wanna be hero.”

  “No! Don’t hurt him,” Jewels screamed, thrusting her body in front of the gun.

  A menacing grin sprouted on Hines’ face, clearly realizing Marshall Watters could actually help him get want he wanted from Jewels: her cooperation.

  “Please, Theo. Don’t kill him,” she begged.

  Raising the barrel and pointing it at the ceiling, “As you wish, Sweet Cheeks,” he said, motioning for her to move away from Marshall.

  Sighing with relief and eyeing Hines, “Thank you,” she uttered, stepping to the side of Marshall.

  Patting down Marshall to make sure he wasn’t packing a concealed weapon, Hines stopped, fished his hand into Marshall’s back pocket. “Hmm. Can’t have this,” he said, pulling out a little key, holding it up in front of his face.

  “What’s that?” Jewels asked, genuinely clueless.

  Hines smirked. “Handcuff key.”

  “Oh.” Jewels raised her eyebrows, knowing from experience SPOF prison guard, Marshall Watters, had a handcuff key in his possession ... after all, by order of Cooman, he had used it to free her of the metal restraints not long after she was introduced to him.

  Dumping the handcuff key in his shirt pocket, Hines pulled a pair of Smith & Wesson handcuffs from the back of his belt. Opening the jaws, he tossed them at Jewels’ gut.

  She caught them like a football.

  “Cuff him.”

  “No,” Jewels said acidly, eyes seething as she hurled the cuffs back at Hines.

  Snatching them out of the air with one hand, he kept his attention on Jewels. His eyes narrowed and smoldered. Nostrils flared. Lips crimped under controlled fury. Stomping over to Marshall, Hines jammed the muzzle of the MP-5 into the side of his head and dangled the handcuffs from his pointer finger in Jewels’ face. “I said, cuff him, or so help me God, Julia, I’ll splatter this motherfucker’s brains over this cabin.”

  Sighing, “That won’t be necessary,” she said frigidly, plucking the cuffs off Hines’ finger. “I’ve never done this before, so what do you want ... what do I do?”

  Flashing his special alligator grin at Jewels, Hines took a step back from Marshall, keeping the muzzle of the MP-5 aimed at his head. “Open the cuff, put it around his right wrist and close the jaw,” he said, waiting for Jewels to perform the prescribed task before continuing.

  The metal jaw made a ratcheting noise as it clamped around Marshall’s wrist.

  “Now pull his cuffed hand down behind his back.”

  With Marshall’s full cooperation, she did.

  “Good. Now bring his left hand down behind his back, open the other jaw, put it around his wrist and close it. Then you’re done.”

  With an eagle eye, he supervised Jewels’ actions to ensure she had clamped the metal strands tightly enough around Marshall’s wrists. Satisfied with her work, he nodded for her to step aside.

  Jewels obeyed. Stood close to Marshall’s shoulder. Gazed fondly at her captured ally.

  Out of habit, Hines followed standard law enforcement procedure. Inserting his handcuff key upside down into the double-lock slot of the handcuff frame, he slid the lock spring over. Double-locking ensures the subject’s circulation is not impeded. More importantly to Hines, double-locking would make it more difficult for him to escape.

  Marshall knelt, facing the door. Hands cuffed behind his back. Head drooping. Eyes gazing at the floor. The woman he had intended to save standing next him. Both prisoners. Obviously not the rescue he had planned.

  Kicking the side of Marshall’s thigh, “Okay, Hero,” Hines growled keeping the sight of the gun trained on his chest. “Look at me.”

  Raising his head, Marshall’s eyes narrowed with contempt.

  Opening Marshall’s too-small BDU jacket with a swift flick from the toe of his shoe, Hines cautiously bent over at the waist to inspect the black and blue marks on his chest. “Sneaky bastard. That explains why you aren’t dead!” Pausing for a moment, then: “So what kind of badass wears Kevlar?”

  “The U.S. government kind,” Marshall replied caustically. “I’m a federal agent with the Militia Threat Assessment Force. Heard of us?”

  Jewels’ jaw dropped.

  Hines’ face milked white. “Yeah, I heard about you weasely MTAF pricks; some covert ops group that reports directly to the President.”

  “That’s right, and you’re busted, Hines. We’ve been watching you. We know you’re behind those Jefferson’s

  Warriors’ crimes. It’s over—”

  “If it’s so fucking over, why are you the one in cuffs?” Hines interrupted with a snarl. Raising the gun above his head, he brought it down swiftly, smashing Marshall in the face with the butt of the folding stock. “Elitist prick,” he yelled, watching Marshall crumble to the floor.

  “Don’t,” Jewels shrieked, dropping to her knees at Marshall’s side, caressing his face.

  Marshall groaned. Blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. He was conscious. Barely.

  Hines’ face brightened, watching Jewels hover over Marshall. “This confirms what I suspected. Marshall Watters is your Achilles’ heel. Now I own you, Sweet Cheeks.”

  Jewels glared with contempt at him.

  “Get up,” Hines ordered, gesturing with the gun she should rise to her feet.

  Turning away from Hines, she ignored his command to instead focus on Marshall.

  With the toe of his shoe, Hines delivered a quick stab to Marshall’s chest.

  Marshall groaned.

  “Stop it,” Jewels screamed, jumping to her feet.

  “Now that’s better. A wife should always obey her husband.”

  “I’m not your wife!”

  “You will be, so you better get used to it
,” he said with confidence. Tipping his head toward Marshall, he instructed Jewels, “Get him over to the bed.”

  Inhaling a deep breath, she bent down, touched Marshall’s face. “Can you get up?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” he said weakly.

  Jewels helped him to his feet, which was quite a task considering Marshall’s size and the fact his hands were cuffed behind his back. Once standing, Jewels slipped her arm around his, allowing his body to lean slightly against hers as she guided him toward the bed.

  Pushing the cabin door shut with his foot, Hines followed closely behind them. Just as Jewels was about to let Marshall collapse onto the bed, “No. Take him over there,” he ordered, motioning with his head to the back wall by the nightstand.

  Jewels scowled at Hines, readjusted her arm around Marshall’s waist, escorted him around the bottom of the bed to the wall. Leaned his back against it.

  “Very good. Now tie Marshall’s hands to the big eye-hook screwed midway up the log wall. The one about waist level,” he said, lobbing her a long thin piece of leather to use as binding. “And you better make it tight,” he warned. “Because if he breaks free, I’ll put a bullet in his head. And this time you really will be responsible for killing him.”

  Motioning a consenting nod, she tied the knot more loosely than tightly anyway, but secure nonetheless.

  “Good,” Hines said upon seeing Jewels had finished. “Now with the MTAF prick out of the way, let’s have a little fun. Come over here,” Hines directed, pointing to the side of the bed where he was standing.

  Jewels shuffled over.

  “Let down your hair.”

  Removing the scrunchie holding up her long hair, she tossed her head back and forth for a moment to loosen the curls, before raking her fingers through it to fluff and comb it

  “Good. Now take off my jacket and put it on the bed.”

  Reluctantly climbing out of it, she folded it neatly. Draped it over the footboard.

  “Now take off the dress.”

  Stiffening her body, Jewels’ face painted in defiance.

  Hines strolled over to Marshall, rapped him upside the head with the muzzle of the MP-5.

  Marshall groaned in pain.

  “Don’t,” Jewels cried.

  “I said take off that fucking dress,” he demanded, drawing a seven-inch SOG knife from the sheath on his hip.

  Recoiling in fear at the sight of the blade, “Okay, whatever you say, just please put the knife away,” she begged, rapidly peeling off the gown and allowing it to drop around her ankles.

  Grinning, “That’s better.” Toying with the knife, he threateningly waved it in front of Marshall’s face. “Now pick up the gown, lay it on the bed, then take off your slip.”

  Swallowing dryly, Jewels took her time picking up the gown, straightening it and draping it across the footboard next to the FBI jacket.

  “Come on, come on,” he prodded, impatience in his voice.

  Unable to change the naturally sexy manner in which she moved her body, she sensually swayed her hips back and forth, slithering out of the formfitting half slip, then held it in her hand.

  Motioning with the knife toward the bed, “Put it there.”

  Jewels obeyed.

  “Now the stockings. Nice and slow, one at a time,” he ordered, again waving the knife at Marshall’s face.

  Obediently, Jewels skinned off the stockings, holding them in her hand.

  Ogling her every move, “Very nice,” he complimented with a dirty grin. Motioning with his finger, he beckoned for her to come to him.

  Folding her arms across her bosom, attempting to cover herself with the stockings, she warily took a half step toward him.

  “Get rid of those stocking and put your arms down,” he ordered, again waving the knife in Marshall’s direction.

  Tossing the nylons on the bed, she stood stiff, shoulders scrunched up, legs squeezed together, arms pulled in tightly against her side, staring at the ground about three feet in front of her toes.

  His eyes interrogated her body. Her breasts were full, nearly spilling over the lace cups of the white bra. Waist small and hips just the right width to complete the perfect hourglass figure. Legs long, lean, and tan. Hines thrilled at what he saw. To him, she was more beautiful than any beauty pageant contestant. More beautiful than he could have imagined; and he had imagined a lot, especially with his doll collection. But most incredibly, she was more beautiful than his mother.

  “Now relax. Flip your hair. Model your bra and panties for me,” he said. Leering: “And make it like a sexy show,” Hines added, his tone raunchy.

  “I-I don’t know what to do, Theo. My previous husband never made any requests like this of me.”

  “The past is the past. I am your present and future. Do as I say. It’s your duty to please me.” Raising the knife to Marshall’s throat, he provided incentive.

  “Please, Theo. Put the knife away. It makes me nervous. Scares me. Makes this harder to do.”

  Nodding in agreement, Hines sheathed the knife. “Now show me what you got, Baby,” he said lustfully.

  Inhaling a deep breath, she closed her eyes, mentally transported herself out of the dreadful cabin into her master suite. In her mind, she was with Robert ... Marshall? With her eyes closed she stood tall, arched her spine and tilted her head back, running her fingers through her hair and flipping her head side to side while swaying her hips to and fro.

  Hines’ mouth dropped open. So did Marshall’s.

  Keeping her eyes closed, she continued imagining Robert and her ... no, not Robert anymore ... Marshall. Yes, Marshall and she were in the bedroom ... no, not her bedroom ... a beach. Playing on a private secluded beach with Marshall. Yes. That vision would work. Striking sexy pose after sexy pose. Teasing him. Luring him in for the inevitable pounding animal sex sure to leave her breathless and satisfied beyond words.

  As her fantasy with Marshall escalated, she turned her butt toward her imagined lover on the beach, spread her legs and bent over to look between her thighs, the tips of her long hair skimming the surface of the floor; a pose the thong panties, unbeknownst to her, turned X-rated for her audience.

  Eyes brimming with erotic pleasure, Hines’ masculinity swelled.

  Marshall’s mouth continued to gape. Eyes wide, fixed in astonishment as he stared.

  Standing tall and facing her audience, Jewels held a sexy pose, opened her eyes, and looked at Hines’ forehead to avoid direct eye contact. “Theo, I feel cheap,” she said, embarrassment in her voice. “May I please stop?”

  Abruptly his face changed. Lips pursed. Forehead crimped. Eyes angrily fixed at her ankles. “When did you take off those restraints?” he asked, not expecting her to answer.

  Reactively covering her breasts with crossed arms and rounding her shoulders in a submissive posture laden with fear, she cautiously stepped backward.

  “Put ‘em back on,” he ordered, drawing the knife to point at the pile of straps on the bed, then resting the tip of the blade once again at the base of Marshall’s throat.

  “Okay,” she said with alarm. “Please, Theo, put the knife away.”

  “I’ll put it away when I’m goddamned ready. Now get those fuckin’ straps on!”

  “Okay, okay.” Reluctantly Jewels sorted through the tangled strips of leather. Even though she had stashed the ankle straps under the bed, unfortunately, there were still enough cuffs piled on the bed to restrain all four of her limbs and then some.

  Settling on a cuff larger in diameter, she wrapped it around her right ankle, pressed the Velcro together.

  “Make sure that strap’s on there good and tight, because if you don’t, I will,” Hines promised.

  Nodding, she buckled the leather strap over the Velcro to fit snuggly around her ankle. When finished, she gazed up at him.

  “Very good. Now proceed,” he said, motioning with his head to add a strap to her left ankle.

  Obediently, she engulfed her left ankle in an identi
cal restraint.

  “Now put one on each wrist.”

  Defiance swept her face. Hate filled her eyes.

  Hines pricked the side of Marshall’s jaw with the blade tip.

  Marshall growled.

  Worry supplanted the insolent look on her face. Hines was right. Marshall was her Achilles heel and she’d do just about anything to keep Hines from killing him. Biting her lower lip, she picked up the leather cuffs from the bed and buckled them around her wrists.

  “I better not be able to get more than a finger stuffed between your wrist and that cuff,” he warned.

  Angrily, Jewels raised her left arm, extended it toward him, thrust her finger between her wrist and the leather and pulled on it. “See? Tight!”

  Ignoring her flagrant gesture of contempt, “Now go to the side of the bed and get on your knees like you’re gonna say your prayers.”

  What was this pervert planning do to? Jewels’ heart thumped like it was plugged in to a sub-woofer. Mouth dry as newspaper. Gazing across the bed at Marshall bound to the wall, she slowly lowered herself to a kneeling position as Hines had commanded.

  She didn’t know it, but Hines planned to play out one of his doll fantasies; the one he had mostly recently dreamed up. Darting over to the fireplace, he grabbed another piece of leather out of one of the cabinets, returned to Jewels’ side, dropped the thing at her feet. “Put the wide belt around your waist,” he instructed.

  Picking up the contraption that looked like some kind of harness, she pulled it around her waist, buckling on the last hole, but it still fit loosely around her tiny waist. Two straps, about six inches in length, dangled from each side of the belt.

  “Now clip those straps hanging from the belt to the D-ring on your ankles.”

  “Why? What are you going to do to me?” Her voice cracked.

  “Shut up and just do it,” Hines roared, threateningly adding, “Unless you want to see the Fed bleed.”

  “No. Theo, please. I’ll do what you want.” Body trembling, she forced her heels upward toward her buttocks. Fingers cold from fear, she fumbled with the clips, which took a moment, but eventually resulted in performing the task of binding her ankles close to her waist.