by Carol Storm
“Oh God,” Kick moaned. Red wasn’t just planning on killing her for personal reasons. He wanted to frame Kenny and use her horrifying murder to divide key voting blocs in Miami.
“Don’t feel bad,” Red said soothingly. “We’ll play it in the media like you were a victim. Your father never saw the tapes of you and Kenny, but I’ll leave one lying around here, like it was dropped by accident. Everyone will see what a sick pervert that Cuban bastard was. But we’ll make it look like you were just a bright college girl who got sucked into the new permissive lifestyle, and was in way over her head. It’ll rally our party base like never before.”
“Your base went out with the horse and wagon,” Kick muttered. “But you can’t – nobody could pull that kind of stunt and get away with it!” She fought desperately to control the terror and nausea, to shut out the fear of being horribly butchered and left in the dark alone. She had to keep Red talking, and the best way to do that was to focus on politics. “You’re a damned good operator, Red, but not even you could pull this off.”
“Why not?” Red gave her a superior smirk. “Look at what I’ve got on my side. Tapes of you and your dirty Cuban pimp, playing your dirty little games. When your body is found, the cops will go looking for the guy on the tape. We both know who that is.”
“But Kenny’s not a killer!” Kick squirmed in her straps at the thought of Kenny in danger. “He’s a hero to the Cuban community. They’ll back him up. He could get a thousand character witnesses! And besides, he’s got an alibi for today. He’s having lunch with my father.”
Red was rummaging around in a wooden box next to the table. He came up with a pair of gleaming metal handcuffs. “That’s where you’re wrong, baby doll,” he said. “You were out cold for hours. By now the two of them have certainly split up. Besides, your father will never cover for a Cuban bastard like Kenny Marigold. Not when he finds out what the two of you were doing together. Your death will look like a tragic accident, rough sex gone bad. And who knows, maybe Kenny will only get a few years in jail. Unless your dad tries to strangle the bastard with his own hands. Speaking of strangling people, let’s try these on for size.”
“No! Please! Not the handcuffs!” Kick’s scream was piercing and she thrashed about desperately, but Red was already loosening her straps and snapping the cuffs around her wrists.
* * * *
“So that’s why she was always rushing off at odd hours.” Joe Sullivan looked like a man who had aged years in a matter of minutes. “It was all a game you played with her, was it? Christ, you really are a dirty bastard.”
“I don’t like that word,” Kenny said tightly. Memories of a hundred schoolyard fights flashed through his head. It would be so easy to take out all his anger on fat little Joe. But Kick was in danger. “Please try to understand, Mr. Sullivan. It was a game we both played. Kick had full control at all times. There was always a safety word built into all our role-playing. We had a very careful system of security. What worries me now is that she’s not answering my calls. Something tells me Kick is in trouble. Maybe she went to one of our secret places and got hurt. Or maybe someone was following her. Someone who knew her daily routines.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Joe Sullivan said. “Who’d want to hurt my precious little girl? Besides you, I mean.” The older man balled up his pudgy fists, and his round face grew red like a baby on the verge of a tantrum. “I always knew you were a no-good Cuban bastard!”
Kenny smiled, and he kept right on smiling. He remembered Kick’s voice in the dark, telling him that he could do anything, that everyone had to let some things pass. “I’ve been called that name in Spanish, plenty of times. Now I’m hearing it in English, from a guy who put a tail on his own daughter. Who was the guy, and how much did you pay him?”
“What did you say?” Kick’s father clutched his chest, his red face turning deadly pale. “Oh God, it was Red Kelly! He wanted to – keep an eye on Kick – said she was up to something at the Claypool House. The Claypool House!” A young waitress screamed as the fat little man who had patted her behind only moments before fell to the floor gasping for breath.
“Call an ambulance!” Kenny Marigold was on his knees beside the older man in an instant, tearing off his tie and loosening his collar. The waitress was frantically dialing 911.
“Save my little girl,” Joe choked out. “Save my little girl.”
* * * *
Kick realized she only had one chance. When Red Kelly snapped the cuffs into place she knew they were the same pair Kenny used when he was playing policeman. Terrifying as it was to be helpless, she had to continue to writhe and scream while Red loosened all her straps, freeing her from the table. He plainly wanted to lay out the scenario of rough sex gone bad, with her naked body left only in handcuffs. But when he wrapped his gloved hands around her throat and slowly began to squeeze, Kick was ready for him. With a sharp click the cuffs gave way, and she groped for the nearest weapon she could find. Inside the box was a diver’s knife that Kenny had used when they were playing Navy SEAL and naughty mermaid.
There was no way for Kick to raise her arms above her head and stab downwards, but with a desperate lunge she twisted and thrust sideways, the sharp knife grazing Red Kelly’s ribs. He screamed and released his strangle hold just as the police broke down the cellar door.
“Patrick Kelly, you’re under arrest for kidnapping, attempted rape, and attempted murder.” The young Cuban policewoman read the bleeding man his rights while a pair of Haitian paramedics hastily bandaged his wound.
“Will he – will he be all right?” Kick couldn’t stand to look at all the blood, but fortunately Kenny had his arm around her and was blocking the view of Red’s gashed torso.
“He’ll live,” Kenny said, his arms strong and comforting and his voice cold and hard. “That was only a glancing blow you gave him. He deserved much worse.”
“You killed my boy,” Kelly kept babbling. “You killed my boy. Damn you, Kathleen, you killed my boy! When you turned him down, he had no reason to live. You killed him!”
“That’s a lie!” Stung beyond fear, Kick tried to break free, but Kenny held her tight.
“Let it pass, Kick. Let it pass.”
“No, I won’t.” Kick looked up into the rich brown depths of Kenny’s eyes, knowing that when it counted she had to be his equal and not his slave. “Let me go, Kenny. Please.”
“My boy,” Red kept saying. “All I wanted was for him to be happy.”
“Listen to me, you twisted bastard,” Kick hissed. She knelt down beside Red, even as the two paramedics were strapping him to a stretcher. “I don’t know what you think happened between me and Sean, but I guarantee you he didn’t want to marry me. He wanted to be the person he really was, but he knew you would never understand. That’s why he joined the army. Not because of me, but because he couldn’t tell you the truth. Sean was gay, Mr. Kelly.”
“That’s a lie! My son was a man! We used to go to baseball games! We used to play catch together in the back yard!” Red Kelly kept on screaming, but he was unable to move his arms and legs and after a moment the paramedics lifted his stretcher and carried him away.
* * * *
“You know, this cottage cheese stuff isn’t so bad.” Joe Sullivan was home from the hospital and enjoying his food just like always. He glanced at his slim, tight-lipped daughter, silently reading a magazine at the dining room table. “Sure you won’t have some, baby?”
“I’m fine, Daddy.” Kick smiled. She didn’t want to eat. Her stomach was too unsettled. Her father would be leaving in a few minutes for his one mile walk. Ever since coming home from the hospital, he had tried to walk a little farther each day.
“You’ve got to admit, honey, I’ve been following doctor’s orders.”
“Good for you, Daddy.” Kick still had the same tight smile plastered on her face.
Joe looked at her. “You’re not following doctor’s orders. They said you should see a counselor, not keep things
bottled inside.”
“I’m not keeping anything bottled inside.” Kick looked at her magazine.
“Bullshit. You’re angry about something.”
“What would I be angry about?” Kick flicked a page. A tiny muscle in her jaw twitched.
“Well, for starters, you might be angry because your father’s best friend tried to kill you. Tell me how angry you are that I didn’t figure out my best friend was a homicidal maniac. I wasn’t just stupid, I was lazy. I wanted Red around because it was easy and safe to let him do all the dirty work. Yet all the time, deep down I knew he didn’t like you.”`
“What makes you think he didn’t like me?”
“It was you he went after, Kick.”
Kick put down the magazine. Her hands were trembling. “You’re so sure that everyone loves you, Daddy. Maybe they do. But there are a lot of things you do that people really hate. Red wasn’t the only one who cracked under the strain. Maybe he hated the way you were always leaning on him, letting him do all the work. Mama hated that. And you know what? I hate it, too. You drove Mom away, you drove Red crazy, and you’ve halfway driven me crazy, too! And now here you are, lying there, being taken care of, and bragging about how you’re doing it all on your own!”
“I wasn’t bragging,” Joe said, in a hurt voice. “I was asking for sympathy. I was asking for support.”
“What about all the times when I needed support?” Kick asked. “What about when I wanted to go out with boys, and Mom wouldn’t let me? What about when Sean and I wanted to go see Madonna, and Mom wouldn’t let me? If you’d let me have more of a social life when I was a kid, maybe I wouldn’t have become such an uptight workaholic when I grew up. Maybe I wouldn’t have thought I had to hide all of my other needs and interests!”
“I always thought you had lots of fun when you were a kid,” Joe protested. “You always spent plenty of time with me. Even when you were a teenager, I always made room for you at campaign headquarters. You loved it there. You got lots of quality time with me, too.”
“That kind of quality time wasn’t enough!” Kick cried bitterly. “I needed more!”
“Well, I’m sorry.” Her father gave her a stern look, something he rarely did. “I’ve done my best, Kick. This isn’t an easy time for either of us. But I think you need to remember that I have my own health to worry about.”
* * * *
Kick tossed the glossy magazine with a sigh, gazing moodily out her bedroom window. She had never talked back to her father like that before, never in her life. Neither of them had talked about what had really happened to her. Red Kelly’s screams were the last thing she remembered before the combination of fear and shock caused her to swoon into Kenny’s arms. The bruises on her neck were almost healed. But the screams—Red’s screams as well as her own—still haunted her day and night. The warm, white-haired lady therapist had told her that it might be years before she was back to normal – and that she needed to begin regular counseling right away. Kick just wasn’t ready, even if her father was serious about cutting back on his good time lifestyle of eating, drinking, and womanizing. That little heart attack had been a real wake-up call. Joe knew the score. He needed her help. For the first time in her life, she had turned him down. Kick closed her eyes, exhausted by her conflicting emotions. She was ungrateful, she was heartless. She was an ice maiden without any feelings. She dozed off feeling very gloomy.
“Ah, there you are.” Hours later, Kenny Marigold’s sexy voice roused her from a snooze. “I thought you’d taken the day off, gone over to Jungle Island.”
“Huh?” Kick sat up on the rumpled bed, wishing she’d put on a little makeup after lunch. “Why would I want to go to Miami’s most world-famous animal sanctuary?”
“Because you’re a beautiful wild thing, not meant for captivity.”
Kick laughed in spite of herself. As he slipped into her bedroom, Kenny added in a darker, more intimate voice, “you’re looking tired today, slave. But somehow even the shadows under your eyes are sexy.”
“Thank you, Master.” Kick smiled faintly as Kenny sat down on the side of her bed. He was the one who was looking extra sexy today. That chocolate brown Armani suit he wore set off his lean figure and his rich coloring to perfection. He looked like a guy who was ready to take on the world, to shoot for the stars like a rocket. Kick closed her eyes, feeling a thrill of pleasure as he kissed her on the lips.
“I saw your father down the street,” Kenny said seriously, plumping the pillows like a nurse. “He’s walking now, and he says that he’s determined to get back to his golf game. The doctors give him a pretty good chance.”
“He’ll finally be out of politics.” Kick felt a little breathless from the intimate way Kenny fluffed and smoothed her crumpled bedding. His body was so close to hers, his mouth just inches from her own. She forced herself to remember their quarrel. “Daddy’s had a heart attack, Kenny. He has to quit. But there’s no excuse for you to give up.”
“No excuse except I found a better candidate.”
“What are you talking about?” One of Kick’s slim dark eyebrows took a suspicious tilt.
“Your father and I had a little talk. Before he had his heart attack. We both have someone new in mind. You.” Kenny enjoyed the look of shock on the girl’s pale features.
Kick narrowed her green eyes, looking tense and tightly coiled. “Is this some kind of joke? I thought Daddy was just begging you for help for his own campaign.”
Kenny laughed. “God, no. I was the one begging. I promised Joe I would leave politics for good if the two of us could get you to run instead. He made the same promise. To tell you the truth, I was surprised how much he liked the idea. He agreed right away.”
“Well, how about that.” Kick felt the tension leave her body. Tears came to her eyes. For once in her life she was wrong. Her weak, selfish father had actually been thinking of her.
“So what do you think?” Kenny asked. “Are you in, Miss Kathleen? I know you can win.”
“Huh?” Kick shook herself, coming back to the present. Kenny was sitting there on the bed, looking at her. She knew that look. Even now, the desire for him made her want to shut out everything and just surrender completely to his hard, beautiful body and knowing touch. “Are you nuts?” she cried hoarsely. “Do you have any idea what the papers are saying about me? She was the perfect girl, living a double life. Her sordid secret hidden from her father.”
“They also say you’re a survivor,” Kenny said quietly. “And they’re right. You can do anything, Kick. You proved that when you survived what that bastard tried to do to you.”
“I proved nothing.” Kick suddenly felt very angry. “I was tied up and helpless, Kenny. I didn’t even see it coming. I drank that whiskey, and I let Red drug me and tie me up!”
“Why?” Kenny just looked at her.
“Maybe the sex isn’t even the point any more,” Kick said softly. She looked down at her slim white hands, the same hands that had stabbed Red Kelly. “Maybe part of me just wants to be helpless. I knew I couldn’t trust Red, but I drank with him anyway. Why did I do it?”
“Maybe you did trust him.” Kenny took her hand. “He was your father’s friend. He was your political mentor. You’ve known him all your life. Why wouldn’t you trust a guy like that?”
“But I wanted to trust him,” Kick said, accusing herself. “I wanted to close my eyes and let Red and Daddy make everything all right. It’s just as bad as wanting to make love to you!”
“You’re mine,” Kenny said flatly. “Your body belongs to me. But I still believe in you. That’s why I walked away from the race. I know you can’t ever escape your deep need for me. But I don’t think you need me to be the Master when we’re not alone in bed. No matter what mistakes you’ve made, I really don’t see you as a helpless victim.”
“Well, maybe you should,” Kick told him. “Maybe I’m just too weak and stupid for public life. I think that’s the real lesson of everything that’s happe
ned to me. The real me is happier tied up, or even just lying around the house. I’m a submissive type, don’t you know?”
“Bullshit,” Kenny said. “Believing that is just your way of trying to punish yourself.”
Kick looked out the window. “I gave my father hell today, you know. For the first time in my life, I lashed out at him. He wanted support, and instead I just made him feel even worse.”
“What did you do, tell him the truth about how angry you are?” Kenny challenged. “Look at me, Kick. You’re not a weakling. You’re not a bad person, either. You were stalked by a deranged older man. It had nothing to do with politics or your personal lifestyle. Red Kelly was a sick man, with a sick obsession. That’s all. Nothing for you to be ashamed of, nothing for you to worry about. It’s not your fault if the pain you suffered gets you a little bit of a sympathy vote. God knows you’ve earned it.”
“I don’t need the sympathy vote from anyone,” Kick murmured. “Least of all from you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Kick looked at Kenny with challenging green eyes. “Oh, come on, Kenny. Do you think I’m blind to what’s going on here? Daddy is desperate to make things up to me, and politics is the only way he knows how to do it. You’re trying to make things up to me, too, aren’t you?”
“I happen to think you’re the party’s best choice.”
“Yeah,” Kick said bitterly. “I’m so strong and such a good judge of character. That’s how I ended up strapped to that table.”
