Heartbreaker (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Simone Sinna

“Why would he want me though?”

  They were back to square one.

  “We have a problem.”

  “What?”

  “This isn’t the right guy.”

  Ben and Savannah moved to stand behind Zac and look at his computer screen. Airline records.

  “Not only didn’t he take a flight to Rome anywhere close in time to December of 1985,” said Zac, pointing, “but he was in Hawaii at the time. On his first honeymoon.”

  “Shit.” Savannah put a line through Idaho Todd. That only left two others. Boston Todd, who they hadn’t been able to find a corresponding photo of, and Colorado Todd who looked too fair, but the photo hadn’t been great. They turned their attention to these two. An hour later Colorado Todd was excluded. He had been in hospital from an ice hockey injury and on crutches throughout December 1985.

  Boston Todd, they found, had gone back to Boston and was still there, senior partner in a law firm, Wilson and Parker. Savannah pictured him looking like Danny Crane and giggled. “Boston isn’t far, is it? We could always take a train.”

  “Americans in general and FBI in particular,” said Zac, “do not take long-distance trains. That one from the airport was an exception. I don’t even do subways normally. I have a car.”

  “Then let’s go. I had hoped for a bit of sightseeing in between attempted abductions.”

  * * * *

  They arrived as it was getting dark. Ben had talked most of the way about their childhood in New Hampshire and how he wished there was time for her to see New England in the fall. If the hotel owner thought it was strange that they asked for a king-sized bed and that there were three of them, he didn’t bother raising it as an issue.

  “Todd will still be at work,” said Savannah. “Lawyers work ridiculous hours, right? Can we cruise by and check him out?”

  Boston was, she decided, a very pretty city. She’d seen the bridges and water coming in, and now they circled the park that, even with the bare trees, gave the town a feeling of being a more conservative version of San Francisco. The business section, like other cities, had tall towers. Wilson and Parker were in one of them.

  “Let me do this,” said Savannah. They went with her nevertheless, staying outside the glass-fronted offices that Todd Wilson, a Todd Wilson anyway, owned. Her father? Maybe.

  The office doors were open but the secretary had either gone home or was with her boss. The reception area was empty. There were a number of photos on the wall, all suited men, some handshaking on deals, one wearing a ton of medals. They seemed to be doing a lot to help disabled groups, maybe insurance or accident-related, as well as something with the military, if the smiling man with the medals was anything to go by.

  “Can I help you?”

  Savannah spun around and a woman in her thirties, elegantly dressed, more for dinner than work, was standing watching her, handbag on her arm. “The offices are closed, you know.”

  “My name is Savannah James. I wondered if I could see Mr. Wilson for, like, two seconds.”

  “That must be a new way to conduct law I’m not familiar with.”

  Uh-oh. This must be wife number two, not aiming to make way for wife number three. Her stepmother if this was good old Dad. More and more Savannah was becoming of the opinion that she didn’t need to meet her dad, just work out what was going on and then worry about the future of her genes rather than where they came from.

  The door behind the woman opened and a man in his fifties, elegant and lean with black hair turning gray, came to join her, looking curiously at Savannah.

  “Are you Todd Wilson?” she asked, staring.

  “Yes, I am.”

  Right coloring, good-looking, he was a possible. She tried to age the photo in her head. It would work, except for one thing.

  “This is going to sound strange and I don’t want to offend you, but could I ask how long you have been in a wheelchair?”

  Todd Wilson moved the chair forward smoothly as if it was part of him. “All my life. I was born without lower legs. May I ask why you are interested?”

  He deserved some explanation, but she had to be sure first. “Have you ever walked maybe with artificial legs? Like that South African athlete?”

  “Oscar Pistorius?” The man laughed. His eyes moved over the men, who were leaning against the lift. “No, and no I haven’t murdered anyone either, accidentally or otherwise. I don’t have enough of a femur to support them.” He was a man who had lived with and surpassed his disability. All in all, she was sorry he wasn’t her father.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you then. I am looking for a Todd Wilson from Yale but you can’t be the right one.”

  Todd smiled, and even his partner looked a little more relaxed. “You’re after an able-bodied Todd Wilson I gather. Sorry I can’t help.”

  Savannah turned to leave and was at the door when he addressed her again. “Can I ask what this Todd Wilson was meant to have done?”

  Savannah turned. “Not sure really. Someone my mother used to know. She was a ballet dancer with the San Francisco ballet company.”

  Todd nodded. “Sorry again that I can’t help.”

  * * * *

  “So where does this leave us?”

  They were eating New England clam chowder and oysters over a bottle of wine in a restaurant facing the Boston docks.

  “At a dead end.” Savannah tried not to sound as negative as she felt.

  “I vote we start looking at Hezekiah.”

  “The FBI have been looking at him for years,” said Zac. “His group, the Soldiers of Leviticus, have been responsible for at least half a dozen bombings, none of which we can prove. He’s smart. Always covers his tracks.”

  “Soldiers of Leviticus? Forgive my ignorance. What does that actually mean?” Savannah asked. There weren’t any groups as organized as this in Australia, largely because there was more apathy about religion generally. She figured it was the difference between being founded by convicts versus pilgrims.

  “Hezekiah’s personal take on the book of Leviticus. Lots of rules and punishments of blasphemers and those who give into sin.”

  “So how does Corey fit in?” Ben leant forward as he spoke. “It’d take me a month to list just the sins and debauchery I witnessed in a few weeks.”

  “Probably Corey thought he could get away with it on the other side of the country. Hezekiah had been known to punish his lieutenants severely. But he doesn’t have exactly your average moral code. Believes in “teaching” his flock about sex personally, and that girls can be married as young as eight.”

  Savannah shuddered.

  “The Soldiers of Leviticus also believe they are justified in murdering the infidels. Which means just about anyone who doesn’t go back to the original Pilgrims and who doesn’t believe in them.”

  “Shit.” Ben looked a bit shaken. This was probably a little more than he had ever had to tackle with the San Francisco PD.

  Zac banged the table. “We need to know what we’re looking for.”

  They ate in silence.

  “What you need to do,” said Zac finally, to Savannah, “is to take us through everything that you can remember in that box your mother left you.”

  “The photo, obviously. The newspaper cutting of what I am pretty sure was the Rome bombings where they met.”

  “Okay let’s stop there. Why was your mother in Rome?”

  “On her way to San Francisco to spend six months with the ballet company there. I’m not sure she lasted the whole time because she was pregnant with me. But stopping off in Europe would not have been unusual. Australia is, or was when my mother was young, very Europe, particularly British, centric. I guess she must have always had a soft spot for Italians too, because she married one.”

  “Okay, but why was Todd Wilson there?”

  “How can we answer that until we know who he is?” Ben asked in frustration.

  “Let’s imagine. Let’s say he’s twenty-five plus, should have finished his degree.” />
  “Work,” Ben and Savannah answered simultaneously.

  “Yes,” agreed Zac. “Could be vacation but Americans aren’t big on European jaunts, and it’s the wrong time of year. December? If he had money and time off surely he’d be in Hawaii or the Caribbean.”

  “So what sort of work sends you to Europe?”

  “Banking.”

  “Diplomatic corp.”

  “Travel agent.” Savannah grinned. “Don’t let a Yale degree go to anyone’s heads.”

  Zac pondered for a moment. “Tell me what the ballet dancer said about him. Word for word.”

  Savannah tried to recall, went through everything she had said to her and Ben, and then on the phone. Zac just listened, then stopped her suddenly. “Say again.”

  “I was trying to jog her memory, about the university,” said Savannah. “There were students in the café and they had on windbreakers with College logos and mascots, so I asked Rachel if there had been any at the club, or any references. She was very clear that it wasn’t the University of San Francisco he went to. They were just the hosts for the night. She thought he said something about Bulldogs, hence why I went to Yale.”

  “But didn’t you say something else before?”

  “Yes, something about donkeys. But honestly, what university would have a donkey as the mascot?”

  Zac stared at her. “Not a university. West Point. They have a mule as mascot.”

  * * * *

  West Point was back in New York. Made sense. Savannah remembered Rachel saying he could have been a dancer. He hadn’t held himself like a dancer though, he’d held himself like a military man.

  “I can’t just bowl up and ask to look at all the West Point Todd Wilsons’ records,” said Zac on the way back to the hotel. “The military and FBI have a love-hate relationship. More on the hate side.”

  “Then where to? Official channels?”

  “Not yet. I can access the database that lists all current and past serving members of the forces. It will take some time so I’ll get my team on it, to cross check names and birth dates, also whether any attended Yale as well. We still have to work out where he met up with Hezekiah. Yale still seems the best bet.”

  “Is it possible,” said Savannah, almost too scared to put the thoughts into words, “that he and Hezekiah are working together? Like planning some big operation, using my dad’s military knowledge?”

  “The FBI know he had been accumulating weapons. He has a number of compounds, main one on the Tennessee-South Carolina border. It’s possible.”

  “It would explain why my arriving looking for him might worry him. He wouldn’t know why, maybe afraid I’d blow his cover?”

  “But,” said Ben, “how the hell did he find out about you coming here in the first place?”

  Chapter Nine

  When the door of the hotel room closed behind her, it was as if she could leave all the questions and worries on the other side. For another night at least she could put aside everything, and live in the moment. Easier to do when the moment was so delicious.

  “Are you ready to be a little more adventurous?” Zac asked as his arms went around her from behind.

  “As long as my safe word still works.”

  “Oh yes, but the question is how safe do you want to be?” Zac pulled off his tie and put it around her eyes. “You will have to put complete trust in us.”

  Savannah nodded, feeling her stomach knot. Just what did Zac have in mind?

  “I’m going to watch you,” she heard Zac say, “while Ben does what I tell him to.”

  She nodded again, felt him nibble on her ear.

  “I am going to watch you be undressed. Enjoy your body being exposed to us, bit by bit. I want you to think about what we might do to you, what you want us to do to you. But you mustn’t move or make a sound unless I say so. Do you understand?”

  Savannah gulped. “Yes, Master.” She felt him step back, heard him moving the chair behind her.

  “Ben,” Zac continued, “you know what to do. But make sure you savor every moment, because I certainly shall.”

  Savannah heard Ben moving towards her, felt a hand brush down her cheek to her neck, caressing along the edges of her top. Fingers went to the buttons of her top, undoing one at a time, in between each moving the fabric aside to expose the edges of her breasts. When he had finished he walked around her, pulling off her shirt so that she was topless. The air was warm but she was sure her nipples would be erect as she thought of each of the men sucking them. But Zac remained seated and instead Ben’s fingers pulled on one nipple while she felt the hot wetness of his mouth on the other, tongue circling it, lips sucking gently in contrast to the increasing pressure from his fingers. Then he swopped, fingers circling in the wetness he had created on her right nipple and his lips sucking then chewing on her left.

  Ben’s hands then went to her hips and gently turned her around so she would be facing Zac, presuming he hadn’t moved. Ben whispered in her ear, “He’s watching you, wanting you. Just as I am.”

  Ben’s fingers went to the button of her jeans, played with it, before slowly pulling open her zip. Standing behind her, one hand went to her breast, the other moved to the flesh her zip had exposed. She felt his fingers brush over the top edge of her mound and she wriggled slightly.

  “For that I shall punish you, subordinate,” said Zac softy.

  Savannah heard the chair move slightly, and as Ben’s hand went lower, grasping both the lips of her pussy, Zac’s lips took her left nipple and bit down hard. She gasped. Ben pushed the palm of his hand harder against her pubic bone and then Zac bit her right nipple. She stifled this gasp, unsure she could cope with more punishment, but was aware at the same time that Ben’s hands would be wet with a surge of juice. She longed for his fingers to open her lips and feel how much she wanted him, but instead he loosened his grip and trailed his fingers over the outside of her lips and up over her belly.

  “I want to see you naked now,” said Zac, who she figured must have returned to his chair.

  Ben obligingly grabbed either side of her already undone jeans and pulled then down hard, taking her pants with them. He helped her step out of both jeans and shoes, one at a time until she was standing naked only inches away from both men, Zac seated in front and Ben behind.

  “Very nice,” said Zac approvingly. “Don’t you think so, Ben?”

  “Exquisite,” Ben said, sounding more strangled.

  “I think perhaps we should also be naked, don’t you?”

  Ben didn’t answer, but Savannah heard rustling of clothing and imagined their bodies, Zac’s lean slim torso and lithe legs, Ben’s broader, muscular and scarred. In front of her Zac leant in to kiss her and she felt his cock against her. Behind, Ben kissed her neck, hands roaming over her ass before pressing his cock against her also. She wriggled and groaned, too lost in the ecstasy of feeling sandwiched between them to remember she was meant to be still and silent. A quick, sharp slap on her thighs reminded her.

  “I think for that,” said Zac, “we might have some extra punishments.”

  Zac stepped back. She heard a click and felt her stomach tighten. What exactly was he intending? Then a second click from behind. It sounded metallic.

  Zac grabbed her hands and pulled her. “On the bed,” he ordered.

  She sat down and then he pushed her back, taking both hands above her head. Metal clicked around one wrist, then the other. She pulled a little and found he had looped it through the wooden strut of the headboard.

  “All good lawmen come prepared,” Zac said, and she knew he was grinning. Hands pulled at her legs, and there was another click around one ankle. Something tied around the other, spread-eagling her.

  “Honey,” said Ben, “that sure is a view I appreciate.”

  Savannah blushed, thinking how exposed and totally at their mercy she was. Her stomach tightened even more, but her juices continued to make her wetter than she had ever before been. She felt one man on either
side of her, but was no longer sure which was which. Hands gently tickled her inner thighs, others pulled on her nipples. Her pussy was desperate for them to touch her, to open her lips and let her muscles suck them into her. But they continued to tease her, touching and licking but never more than brushing over her clit, one after another. Her mind couldn’t focus on anything other than her desperate need to be filled, and finally as one hand came again to her clit she wriggled uncontrollably.

  A sharp slap to her right orientated her to where Zac was, and then he pinched her nipples hard. “I’m going to give you more of that for being impatient,” he said.

  She felt his fingers pull at her nipple, drawing it out, then felt something hard clamp over it. She gasped.

  “Breath into it,” Zac ordered as he did the same to her other nipple.

  The pain was intense, taking all thoughts away from her cunt and instead to the devices Zac had placed her nipples in. As her mind cleared she felt she was going to have to call her safe word, thinking that the pain had overtaken the pleasure. But then, just at the moment she was going to cave, a hand on either side of her pussy opened her lips. One set of fingers circled her clit and the other dipped deep into her juices.

  “Oh honey,” moaned Ben.

  “Delicious,” murmured Zac. “I’ll even let you make a noise now for being such a good girl.”

  Savannah couldn’t have spoken even if she had wanted to, but her moan left the men in no doubt of how much she was enjoying everything their hands were doing. One set of fingers, Zac’s she figured, dipped lower, a thumb stretching open her ass using the juices of her pussy. Ben kept rubbing her clit but the other hand relieved the pressure of the nipple clamp, sucking her nipple hard. The contrast of the gentleness of his mouth on one nipple to the pain from the other left her uncertain what she wanted, but when he reapplied the clamp and pushed his fingers hard inside her at the same time Zac’s fingers entered her ass, an electric wave went through her. She arched, sucking their fingers in, and before she could stop herself the wave went through her pelvis before sending a tingle of pleasure throughout her.