Jade felt her stomach twist and turn. Then she gasped as the man in black struck Tara, grabbed her around the waist, and bent her over the table.
“Oh, my God, we have to stop him. He’s going to hurt her,” J.J. stated.
“Are you scared?” Dexter asked.
“Yes,” J.J. replied.
“Pay attention. Do you think that we would allow just any man to come in here and do that to one of our girls?” Dexter asked.
“Quiet, he’s getting to the best part,” Martin exclaimed.
J.J. watched as the man in black yelled at Tara.
“Do you want me or do you want him?” he asked in a roar.
“You. I want you. You’re so strong and forceful. I want it hard and fast,” Tara yelled back at him.
“Oh, my God,” J.J. whispered, as she realized what exactly was happening here. This was a setup. Had they staged this to get her reaction?” she wondered, but as she stared at Tara being taken by the man in black, she realized that it was really happening.
Dexter stroked his fingers over her covered pussy.
“Are you wet, Jade? Did that turn you on as much as it turned me on?”
She shook her head.
“No. I don’t want this. I won’t do that,” she whispered.
“Don’t be rash. Give it some time to sink in,” Martin said as he pressed her hands up and down over his shaft. Despite the pants he wore she could feel his hard erection. This was really bad. She needed to think quickly and get the hell out of here.
“It’s all a game. The clients have all different types of requests. Some want to dominate and feel in charge, while others want to be taken charge of,” Dexter said still gliding his hand up and down the inside of her thigh. Tara was moaning and crying in the distance. It made J.J. feel sick. How could she want that? How could Tara and these other women accept such treatment? Were they so desperate for money that they would allow men to do that?
“He’s hurting her.”
Martin grabbed her face and cupped her cheek. She was grateful he no longer had a hand between her legs. She crossed her legs immediately blocking off Dexter’s touch.
“Sometimes pleasing the client means pain. Don’t you like pain?” he asked her. The sick fuck.
Every instinct in her body wanted to lash out at this piece of shit, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to blow her cover.
“Pain? They beat them?” she asked.
“Sometimes, or if the woman doesn’t do what is asked completely, she suffers the greatest amounts of pain,” Dexter stated.
Martin released her face.
“You have a lot to think about. But don’t believe for one moment that we would send you to the wolves without training,” Martin said.
“I’m not interested.” He released her hand and stared straight ahead.
“You will be. I’d hate to have to kill you,” he stated very seriously and without taking his eyes off of Tara.
J.J. heard the scream and then the sound of something banging. She jerked up, not remotely close to being over Martin’s statement and threat of killing her, to see Tara’s head being smashed against the table.
“Prentice!” Martin yelled out. Prentice immediately headed toward Tara and the man in black who was thrusting into Tara from behind while he beat her. J.J. closed her eyes and felt her body shaking. Tara was going to die right here in front of her.
“Let me up. I can’t watch this.” J.J. raised her voice as Martin stood up, just as Prentice pulled the man in black off of Tara. J.J. saw his face and had to hide her gasp. Congressman Dooley? Holy fuck. Oh, shit. Oh, God, no. This is really bad.
She turned away, uncertain if the man would recognize her or not. He had been so involved in pushing information onto the public about the case. He could easily have gotten information on the investigation and the undercover operation.
Oh, God, no. Oh, God, he probably knew about Marlee and Denise. Marlee knew Dooley. He was up for reelection. Everyone wanted to elect him. He was for the cops, the first responders, and for military. Oh God. No one would believe this.
“Jade, darling. Are you okay?” Dexter asked, wrapping an arm around her waist. She felt him thrust his cock against her from behind. She was nearly against the table. His mouth was on her neck, and she thought he was going to try to rape her.
She pulled from his grasp.
“I’m going to be sick. I need a restroom,” she stated.
“Take her, Dexter. Then bring her to our room. There’s no need to waste time pondering over her choice. After watching that scene unfold, I’ve got some things I’d like to try on our little songbird.”
She knew what things he wanted to do. She’d just witnessed a sexual assault. Even though Tara had claimed to want it, and had allowed it, it was still a crime. She was nearly beaten to death.
“Martin. We have a problem,” Prentice stated. She turned to look, along with Martin and Dexter, who had his hand on her shoulder.
“What’s the fucking problem?” he asked.
Congressman Dooley downed a drink as he pulled up his fly and stared straight ahead. He saw her. Would he remember who she was?
“I think you owe me, McCue. She didn’t do a good job fulfilling my fantasy. How about that one?” he yelled from across the room and stared at J.J.
J.J. took a quick glance behind him. Tara lay motionless on the floor, blood dripping from her temple, dress ripped, mouth bloodied. She thought about the pictures from the crime scenes of the other victims. These men were a bunch of rapists and murderers. How many more were out there? How many women were still missing? The rage, the anger was becoming too much to bury.
As she looked up, the congressman was approaching. “I need the ladies’ room,” she said and Dexter pulled her closer.
“Wait. Let me see her. She’s got the tits I wanted. Look at those fuckers. She’d be perfect,” he said and then stopped a few feet in front of her as Martin placed his hand up for the congressman to halt.
“Martin. Tara isn’t breathing,” Prentice yelled out.
J.J. was shocked, and looked toward Martin and the congressman stared at her.
“I’ve seen you before,” he stated.
She needed to think quickly and get out of there. Tara was possibly dead, murdered.
“She’s in the show. She’s one of the best acts we got,” Dexter said as he held her from behind and then cupped her breast. She kept her face away from the congressman. If he identified her, she was dead. She remembered her switchblade, and reached into her purse even though all she wanted to do was to push Dexter’s grimy hands off her breast. “They feel nice, I bet. Are they real?” the congressman asked.
You are so fucking dead. You’re over, Dooley. You rotten, no good son of a bitch.
Martin was walking toward Tara.
“I need to go,” J.J. whispered as she leaned her head back against Dexter’s shoulder, giving him better access to her breast. Anything to get out of here, get to her commander, and blow this fucking case wide open.
“I bet she could take both of us. I’ll pay for her, like I did the others,” Dooley whispered and then reached over to stroke her other breast. She turned into Dexter’s arms, her hand on the switchblade.
“We’ll think about it. She’s ours tonight,” Dexter said as he held her tight.
“Wait, I’ve seen her somewhere before. It’s not from the show.”
J.J. panicked and pretended to gag as if she were about to puke. “Oh, shit. I have to get her to the ladies’ room. Go over there. It’s going to cost you for us to get rid of the body.”
“I’ll pay, just like I did for the others,” Congressman Dooley stated.
J.J. struggled to get away from Dexter and run to the bathroom, but he wouldn’t release her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Dooley in a dead stare at her. His eyes widened and he started to head toward Martin.
The door to the bathroom was straight ahead, and the exit right near there.
; Dexter rushed her ahead, and she made her move. She stomped on his foot, shoved her elbow into his stomach, and ran for the exit door. “Stop!” Dexter yelled as he followed, coughing from her elbow shot. She shoved open the door and an alarm blared, as Martin and Prentice came running out of the first room.
“Stop her, Dexter. She’s a fucking cop.”
She ran through the parking lot. No one was coming. She was on her own. Obviously the cameras didn’t work. There was only the one in the back of the building through the kitchen exit. She was nowhere near that side of the building. She lowered down near a set of cars, and tried to catch her breath. She pulled off the high heels and threw them underneath the car. She looked around, and didn’t hear a sound. She could hail a cab, if she could get through the parking lot and into the front of the building. She started to run when she felt a hand on her shoulder pull her back down. As she turned around, Dexter punched her in the face. She gripped the switchblade and held on as he continued to try and hurt her and stop her from going anywhere.
His hands were on her throat.
“You fucking bitch. You’re a fucking cop? I wanted you. We would have been great together. I’m going to kill you. But first, we’re going to show you what we do to cop bitches.”
She was kicking him and he shoved her against the hood of the car. She couldn’t breathe and with her only defense in hand, she stuck him in the side with the knife. He let go, she coughed and cried out, and then kicked him in the stomach. He was holding his side with one hand and used his other to reach out and grip the material of her dress. She slammed her knee up hard and fast, connecting with his chin and nose, splattering blood everywhere. He yelled out and she decked him in the face. He fell backward onto the ground.
She was panting for air, shaking with fury and fear.
She could hear yelling, and saw security running through the parking lot looking for her. There was no one to trust, just the three security guys placed there undercover, and she didn’t know who they were.
She scrambled to get out of there. She ran as fast as she could and down the Las Vegas strip, away from the killers and into the crowd of crazies. A glance over her shoulder and her peripheral vision caught sight of the entourage of black-tinted vehicles. The congressman’s private security team. She was in seriously heavy shit, and no one could be trusted. It was two o’clock in the morning. She needed to get to her commander.
Hailing a cab, she jumped in and gave the address of the safe house. She looked behind her and saw no indication that she was being followed. Her cheek throbbed something terrible, as well as her throat, her arms, and back. She would be covered in bruises, but it was better than being dead.
This was a major clusterfuck, and she was caught in the middle. As the cab driver drove her to the destination, she thought about the events that had unfolded and the situation as a whole. She’d nearly died tonight, and deep down she knew that things were going to get worse before they got better.
Congressman Dooley is a killer. He just killed Tara, and I heard him say he would pay for Martin and Dexter to get rid of her body just like he did for the others. He was at the heart of this. Everyone adored him. What would the FBI do when they found out? Are they going to believe me? Oh God, he killed her. I’m a witness to a murder, and the killer is Congressman Dooley.
Chapter 1
“This sounds like a bad fucking situation,” Sandman stated.
Commander Frank Reynolds ran his hand across his whiskers. He was speaking on a secure line. He couldn’t believe that this case had turned into this. There were few people to trust, and neither him nor J.J. felt confident about the witness protection program since her life had been threatened repeatedly, and he was asked to turn his back and let her get killed. He was sick with worry. He’d promised Anthony that he would take care of J.J. But this was beyond his means.
“I wouldn’t have called you like this if it wasn’t a last resort. It is a fucking bad situation. There are only a few individuals I can trust. They’re working on gathering evidence and making sure that the person responsible will not get off on some bullshit mistake. It’s going to take some time. She’s in serious danger. The threats are coming from more than capable sources. She’s survived three attempts already. She’s lucky to still be alive.”
“I understand. I do this thing on the down low, so I get that we need to keep it under the radar. Are we talking feds only?”
“Politics, too.”
“Fuck. That’s why I hate fucking politics. If people just got their heads out of their asses and did the right thing, we wouldn’t have half the fucking problems.”
“Hey, Sandman, you don’t need to tell me. I’ve learned that people aren’t always who they say they are. I trust you, because Anthony always did.”
“Anthony was a good man. So what can you tell me about this woman?” Sandman asked.
“Not a lot. I think that’s better for your safety and for hers. I need her placed somewhere she won’t be noticed or recognized. Your town is filled with retired military. There have to be some more highly trained protectors available.”
“You’re seriously going to leave me with squat on this woman? No details on the case? Her involvement or professional position? Is she going to be a pain in the ass or something?”
Frank chuckled.
“J.J. is tough. She’s resourceful and she’s not too keen on this present idea of mine, however, keeping that pretty little head of hers intact is my number one priority. Sandman…she went through some heavy shit. She’s a bundle of nerves. What she went through was pretty damn traumatic. She knows that her life is in jeopardy, and she’s pissed off, too. I have nowhere else to turn, and I made a promise to myself, for Anthony’s sake, to keep watch over her.”
“She was involved with Anthony?” Sandman asked.
“They got engaged two weeks before he died.”
“Shit. I’m sorry, Frank. I had no idea that Anthony was even seeing anyone.”
“They were keeping it under the radar. She was one of his trainees.”
“Oh, shit, that must have been interesting.”
“You have no idea. Anyway. I can have her out there within the week. I just need to secure a plan, so she’s not followed.”
“Let me help with that. I already have a place and some men in mind. I’ll call you on this line within the hour.”
“Great. Thank you, Sandman. I’ll keep you posted on what’s going on over here. Hey, if something happens to me—”
“Nothing is going to happen to you.”
“If something happens to me, please, keep J.J. safe. She busted this case wide open. She’s a hero, and she deserves to survive this.”
* * * *
Sandman disconnected the call and swiveled around in his chair. He disconnected the wire that blocked anyone from tapping the call. He lived for shit like this still. He felt badly for this situation and for Frank and this woman. He had to be sure to take the necessary precautions and then some. If this case involved the feds, a politician, and some dirty shit, then this woman could already be as good as dead. He had to help Frank, keep his friends safe, too, and hope that they would take on this situation.
Conway, Brook, Calder, and Lincoln were tough sons of bitches. They were into some crazy shit, like creating high-tech bombs that weren’t easily detected, and super crazy spy stuff. They did it for fun. Then, of course, were their real jobs as combat trainers, and Conway was the chief of police in town. Their land was out in the middle of nowhere, and totally secured with high-tech surveillance they created and fooled around with. They had enough guns and ammo to start and finish their own war. The more he thought about them, the more Sandman knew they were the best choice to keep this woman safe. He picked up the phone. Now if only he could convince them that their services were needed.
Chapter 2
J.J. sat straight-faced in the large black pickup truck, with tinted windows, alongside some big-ass agent and friend of Frank’s. He was l
ike six feet fucking four, had huge muscles, and looked experienced. She held her breath a few times, trying to stop her body from shaking. She had no control over it and it appeared to be getting worse. Of course she hadn’t confided in Frank about it. He would worry more than he already worried.
She picked up the file he’d given her. At least Frank had informed this guy that she was more than capable of handling herself and that she wanted details on these men who were to be protecting her. She hated looking at this situation as needing protection, but after her small little house was blown up and her bank accounts raided, she knew she needed help. The kind of help that only Frank seemed to be able to get her. She was grateful. After all, if Dooley or his thugs got a hold of her first, she would experience the type of death she had only nightmares about. Now that was something else plaguing her. The nightmares. Waking up in a cold sweat, running for her life, and being caught by the McCues, Prentice, or Dooley himself. Their attack on her body was so surreal, it made her sleepless, with her revolver tucked under her pillow, and others scattered around the room.
She hoped that Frank’s friend kept his promise about not informing these men of her professional status. Let them think she was weak and incapable. Then when they tried something, she would show them just how incapable she was.
She shook the thoughts from her head. Her new way of thinking was frightening her. She was combative and aggressive, even in thought. She was ready to fight, verbally or physically. This wasn’t her. Sure she was tough, but bitchy, combative? Never. Not unless provoked. But considering the circumstances, she was beyond provoked. She was scared shitless, she felt out of control, completely alone, and distrusting with a vengeance.
“We’ll be there in five minutes. I know their place is out there in the middle of nowhere, but they are very capable men. Their security is impeccable, and they know their shit. You’ll be safe with them,” Sandman stated.
The American Soldier Collection 7: Their Sin City Showgirl (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 3
