Nafisa nods in agreement. “Most of your books are rated five stars, Mia.” She’s probably telling her what she already knows, but continues. “The average for all your books is four to five stars.”
“So that appears to be a dead end for now. It looks more likely to go back to the incident in the past?” Ben referred tactfully to Mia’s ordeal for which I was grateful.
Taking over again, Vanessa continues, “Yes, I think so. Mia gave us the names of about eight people she can remember at the party, and her friend, Anna, came up with twelve.” She looks up for a moment. “How many do you remember being there in total, Mia?”
Mia shrugs. “Impossible to say, the place was choc-a-bloc.” She gives it some thought. “Anywhere between thirty and fifty.”
“As I thought. Probably a lot of gate crashers, hangers-on, partners.” She glances at her screen again. “Putting the two lists together we have eleven unique names to start tracking down. That’s what we’re going to do next. Once we’ve got contact details, we’ll phone round the partygoers and see if they remember anything or if they can give us more leads.”
Now Ben addresses Mia. “You didn’t notice anything unusual before the incident on Tuesday? Did you think that anyone was following you? Did anything out of the ordinary happen? You didn’t get into an argument, step in front of someone in a queue, road rage or anything like that?”
She puts her head in her hands for a moment, taking the question seriously and trying to remember. After a while, she looks up. “Nothing that I recall. I’m sorry. I spend most of my time at home writing. I’m pretty boring.” She laughs at herself and elicits a smile from the rest of us. Boring isn’t a word I’d use to describe Mia Fable.
Slowly nodding Ben wraps up, “Well, I think it’s best to concentrate on the party and what we can find from there on in. Mia, I asked Jon to bring you here so you can meet the team. If you need anything, and you can’t speak to Jon for any reason, you’re welcome to come directly to one of us.” He gives her his card with his direct line; the others do the same. I know he’s made the offer in case I’m out of action for any reason. But also in case she’d rather speak to a female if she remembers details she can’t bring herself to share with me. Being her almost Dom, I’d be very upset if that happened. But it’s the protocol I’d follow if I were in the Chair, so I don’t protest.
Ben stands. “Jon, can I have a word with you for a moment? Mia, Vanessa will get you a coffee. I’ll only keep him a few minutes.”
Pausing only to make sure Mia is happy with the arrangement, I follow Ben out to his office which is next door to mine. Ben goes to sit behind his desk. He leans back in his big comfortable leather chair and indicates I should close the door, then waves me to the seat in front of him. Leaning back, putting his hands behind his head, he brings his elbows parallel to his ears. He’s studying me, the smile and welcome slipping slowly from his face. I wait for it.
He doesn’t keep me hanging for long. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Jon? Inviting her to the club?” He certainly isn’t in the best of moods.
Lifting my chin, I narrow my eyes, “She was going to go to Bates’ place. Club Tiacapan seemed a better alternative.”
“Bates’ place? Tops and Tailends? Fuck Jon, she shouldn’t be going anywhere! Especially now.” Ben raises his voice, “Couldn’t you just stop her?”
“Short of tying her up, no. I’m her protection officer, not her gaoler!” My temper flares because part of me agrees with him, conscious I could have tried harder to put a hold on her desire to visit a BDSM club, but can’t admit the honest truth; I want to see her at the Tiacapan for my benefit. But I suspect Ben’s well aware of that; he’s an experienced Dom himself. He won’t have missed any of the signs giving me away. He’s known me too long and too well.
His arms return to his sides, and he sits up straight. “Why’s she so adamant about going?”
“She writes about BDSM in her books and wants to see a real club in action for research,” I explain.
I’ve raised a red rag to a bull. Ben stares at me in disbelief, then, as the implications sink in, jumps to his feet, his fist crashing down on the desk. “So while I’m playing tonight she’s going to be standing there taking notes? For fuck’s sake!” Straightening, he brushes his hand through his hair. “That can’t happen, Jon. You know how strict the club is about confidentiality; no one goes there to be watched. Christ!” His hand stills, “What’s she going to do? Observe us like monkeys in a fucking zoo?”
I also stand, my anger getting the better of me as I spurt out before realising just what I’m admitting, “No she won’t, she’ll be far too busy playing with me!”
“Jesus Christ!” As my words seem to echo around us, Ben glowers at me looking as irate as I’ve ever seen him. “Tell me this isn’t right. You’re taking a fucking client to the club and will be sceneing with her? Fucking hell, Jon! Does she know this?”
I wave at him to sit down again; I do so myself hoping he’ll copy me. He does. I lean forwards putting my head in my hands, knowing he’s right to call me out. He sits rigid, his palms flat against the edge of his desk. We both need to calm down a bit, so I quieten my voice, “That’s the problem Ben, I don’t know.” I admit as I lift my face to look, at him, my frustration showing on my face.
“She’s got to you, hasn’t she?” As if he realises the hopeless position I’m in, Ben’s face relaxes as his rage starts to dissipate, quickly turning to sympathy. “Never thought I’d see the day when a woman had you by the balls, Jon.”
Is it that obvious? “She’s a natural submissive, and in trouble.”
Ben gazes at me. “You don’t normally have a problem keeping it in your pants.”
He’s right. I sigh, sitting back and putting my elbow on the arm of the chair, resting my chin on my palm. He’s been my friend a long time and it’s impossible to hide the truth from him. “She’s special, Ben. I should have given the case to someone else last Wednesday. Now I can’t. I’d kill the bugger.”
I know the company’s rules like the back of my hand. Sometimes we’re required to fraternise with clients or targets, so there’s nothing contractual to stop me. Just common morals and ethics, and right at this moment I’m in short supply of those.
He looks at me closely as though I’m a specimen in a lab that’s acting completely out of character. “Never seen you like this around a woman before, Jon. Brings a whole new meaning to close protection, mate.” He laughs, cynically. I don’t tell him I’m not that close yet; suspecting he assumes I’m already sharing her bed. His eyes sharpen. “This BDSM stuff she writes about worries me. I’m concerned it might have a connection to the case. Have you read anything she’s written? Or have you been too busy?” His eyes twinkle with mischief as he adds the last.
“I’ve read two books so far,” I ignore his insinuation. “The only thing that struck me was in her latest book Mia talks about a wannabe Dom, who takes things too far. While she skirts around what he does, essentially he doesn’t abide by safe, sane and consensual. He gets his comeuppance, in the end, is slung out of the club and is made to seem a bit of an idiot.”
“I think I know someone like that!”
“We’ve all come across them.” I agree.
“But we try to weed them out at Tiacapan.” He looks deep in thought. “Not so much some of the other clubs.”
“I did think of going fishing; see if anyone fits the bill.”
“At Bates’ place, that would be two out of every three!” He’s right, and his look of disgust is exactly why I wanted Mia far, far away from that place.
The corners of his mouth turned down, Ben doesn’t look happy. “But you can’t be the one to investigate. Mia’s stalker will recognise you by now if he’s been keeping an eye on her.” He sits, deep in thought, then his eyes light up as he has an idea and continues, “I’ll ask Sean to do the rounds of the clubs. And you’ll want to stick close to Mia.”
It’s immediately
apparent his suggestion has merit. Sean is exactly the right man for the job. He’s a switch, he can both top and bottom depending on who he’s with, and then there’s his ability to protect himself. A six-foot-three-inch beanpole, but what there is of him is solid muscle. He’s an expert at hand to hand combat so there’d be no worries if he met with any trouble, even in the most sordid of clubs. It's a good idea, so I thank Ben as he assigns himself the responsibility of liaising with Sean and getting him to start on his new task as soon as possible. Of course, we might draw a blank, but currently, we haven’t got a lot else to go on. Someone out there has it in for Mia. As the stalking has only just started, if we’re right, and it’s somehow connected to her writing, it makes sense it could have something to do with her most recently published book.
Ben and I throw around a few more ideas, but it seems following up people who were at the party and taking a look at the darker side of the BDSM scene are the only options we have for now. I leave him once those next steps are agreed, and go to find Mia unable to hide my grin as meet her in Vanessa’s office. She’s in for a surprise today, starting when she gets down to the underground car park.
After calling out a general farewell to the office staff, we leave Grade A’s offices behind and I take her down in the lift to the basement level. As she goes to step towards the McClaren; I stop her by putting my hand on her arm. “Different mode of travel, sweetheart,” I tell her, watching her carefully; wanting to see her reaction as I lead her towards the other vehicle I keep here.
Chapter 12
Mia
Seven years ago
When I started to regain consciousness, the first thing I noticed was that I shivering from cold and next that my head was throbbing. Thinking I must have kicked the duvet off in my sleep, I went to pull it up only to find my hands were behind me, and I couldn’t move them. As I pulled, I realised they were tied there. Slowly, as all my senses returned, I became aware I was definitely not in my own bed and that this was no dream. Panic arose quickly when I opened my eyes, only to find I still couldn’t see anything, something had been tied around my brow blocking my sight. But it was obvious I was naked, the cold air flowing over me triggering goosebumps all over my bare skin. I started thrashing my head from side to side, but the blindfold wouldn’t budge, and I only succeeded in making the thumping in my head worse. My breath started coming in rapid pants as I grew more and more frightened. Then I found I wasn’t alone.
“Thank fuck for that! She’s awake at last! I heard a voice and felt a hand roughly grope my breast. Tied so tightly I couldn’t squirm away. Oh God, what was going to happen to me? “Time to play, bitch. We were waiting for you to wake up so you can enjoy it.”
I was so, so scared. I swallowed rapidly, trying to get moisture into my dry mouth. I had never been so terrified in all my life. Tremors ran through me, triggered by both cold and fear of what I hoped wasn’t, but deep down already knew in all probability was, to come. My voice came out as a whisper “Please…”
He interrupted me with a harsh laugh. “That’s right, bitch. Beg for it.” He ran a rough hand down my stomach and further down, into my most private place. I tried to close my legs, but they’d tied my ankles, keeping them apart. “Bet that’s a virgin pussy there, isn’t it? And my cock’s waiting no fucking longer to get into it.”
My worst fears were confirmed when I heard a zipper coming down; it rasped as if moving in slow motion. There’s no doubt what he planned to do. No, not me. Why me? What have I done to deserve this?
“Please… Don’t!” I tried pleading again, as I struggled against my tight bindings. “Please. No!” But I was powerless to move or prevent it. My fear, already sky high, ratcheted up to an impossible level. I screamed in protest, my voice shrill with horror, “No, don’t, please.” This couldn’t be happening! Let this be a nightmare, let me just wake up. I struggled frantically, but the ropes had been tied tight, and there wasn’t any play in them. I started to cry; I was pleading and begging, but it made no difference.
He undid the ties around my legs, and I took my chance, kicking out hard, but he was ready for that and retaliated by walloping me in the face. Christ! That hurt! Momentarily stunned, it gave him the opportunity to grab my legs, pulling them wide open. He was too strong for me, and there was nothing I could do to stop him. I screamed and begged over and over again, but my pleas didn’t deter him. He was going to rape me!
Tears flooding down my cheeks, I tried to divorce myself from what was happening to my unprepared body, but the pain, embarrassment, and humiliation were unbearable. It seemed to go on forever.
Present day
I enjoyed my chat with Vanessa, especially when she showed me what actions they’re taking to try to identify my stalker, impressing me with the sophistication of their investigation tools. Fascinated by the way they work, I couldn’t resist making a few notes on my phone, and jotting down some of the processes they go through, imagining using the information in a book one day. Although there can be no doubt they are putting every effort into their work, it does seem a little like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. But both Vanessa and Nafisa assured me they won’t give up, and are confident that there’s something to be found in my past. Their determination to get to the bottom of who my stalker is, leaving no stone unturned; every single clue, however small, is being followed up. Their diligence is giving me hope. Perhaps with having Vanessa’s team and the rest of Grade A on my side, my case can be solved and maybe I won’t be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life.
And, of course, spending time with his colleagues meant I could take the opportunity to discover more about the man who’s been assign to protect me; all the while taking care to be discreet so as not to disclose anything other than professional interest in him. Casually I ask about the hierarchy of the organisation, but laughter greets my question about whether Ben was his boss. And it’s at that point I find out that Jon Tharpe is not an employee, but one of the co-owners of Grade A Security. What the heck? Why did I warrant such high up attention? So phrasing it as innocuously as I could, I ask Vanessa that very question. Only to receive an odd look in response, and the added information that it’s very rare for Jon to work outside of the office nowadays, usually overseeing the work of others rather than doing it himself. It seems they are puzzled too.
So why had he assigned himself to me? Could he be affected by me as I am by him? Could this attraction be mutual? A delicious shiver runs down my spine at the thought. I like his company. I’m getting used to him being around, and I’m starting to dread the day when the case is over, and he’ll disappear from my life. He’s the first man I’ve ever come across who makes me feel like a real woman, with all the normal female desires. On the other hand, even if he were interested in me in that way, after everything that I’d been through, I would never be able to let him that close. Would I? He must have had hundreds of women, all much more experienced than I. Why would he ever want me? What would I do if he does?
Could I try? When he touches me, it’s as though there’s a current shooting through me; when he looks at me my stomach clenches. It’s a million miles away from the way I felt when my kidnappers raped and abused me when all I felt was disgust and degradation. What would it be like if it was Jon caressing me intimately, running his hands over my breasts? Jeez, I tremble at the thought, and immediately my nipples harden. I might like it.
Is there a chance he took the case because he too felt that spark the morning I first met him?
With the question of whether my developing feelings are reciprocated running through my head, when I accompany Jon down to the carpark, I feel like a teenage girl on a first date. I don’t speak, tongue-tied and nervous, anxious not to say the wrong thing, but not knowing what the right words would be either. There’s no way I could just come out and ask him. Should I encourage him? But how the hell would I go about that? How does a woman show she’s interested? Shit Mia, you write about it all the time, but whe
n it comes to putting theory into practice you haven’t a bloody clue! It’s probably safer to keep my feelings to myself and make sure everything stays on a purely business level. But what if I never meet someone who attracts me in the same way again? My hands curl at my sides. Those bloody abusers. Why can’t I move past that?
My mind might be preaching caution; my body isn’t getting the message. In the lift, I try to ignore my physical reaction to the charismatic man walking beside me, biting my lip and flushing with embarrassment and, not a little excitement at the notion that he might be interested in me as a woman. But then, I could be interpreting it all wrong, and he could have stayed close simply as a result of that favour Val called in. And if that’s the case I need to make sure I don’t make a bloody fool of myself!
The lift descends, my emotions bounce one way then the other. Until finally, as we hit basement level, my heart plummets as well. I’m an author, I’ve got an active imagination, I see things that aren’t there. Stop it, Mia. Why the hell would a man like this want to take things further with a woman like you?
At last the doors slide open, and we exit into the garage. I take a step towards the McClaren. Then he touches my arm and feeling like I’ve had an electric shock. I jump.
“Different mode of travel today, sweetheart,” He tells me. And leads me across to a very sexy black motorcycle, littered with shining chrome. The logo on it shows me it’s a Harley and is one hell of a beast of a machine. Oh, I’m so not going there!
I pull back, shaking my head. “No.”
“No?” He’s grinning at me. “I’m afraid the correct answer is yes. We’ve not got much time to get across London, and we’ll get through the traffic better on this.”
Close Protection (Blood Brothers #2) Page 14
