Sparks (A Special Agent Novel Book 1)

by C. P. Mandara

  That gave me a moment’s pause. James. Could I endure James as my trainer? I had the ideal get-out clause if the answer was no. He didn’t want me, and was happy to smooth things over with my boss in order to get rid of me. Maybe Miss Sharkey would pull in a replacement Dom for me? Perhaps I could just wait this out? Having James as my trainer would be hell-on-wheels, with a Ferrari style engine, I was sure. Shaking my head, I continued on my journey through the house. Janice hadn’t got a second chance at the op, and neither would I if I flunked this. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter how hard I found the training or the trainer - all that mattered was that I got my ass inside Alain’s house. Besides, so what if it was James? I’d be submissive material in a matter of weeks, and then I’d never have to see him again. I just needed to get him focused on the job at hand.

  Door number five was the last I could see, but the hallway veered off to the left at the end, so it was possible he wasn’t anywhere near me yet. To be on the safe side, I approached this door with considerably more caution that the other four, and that told me all I needed to know. My sixth sense had an uncanny ability to spot danger, and it was screaming all sorts of obscenities at me now.

  This time, as soon as I pulled the handle down, the fucking thing squeaked. I then stopped dead in my tracks, listening for any sound that might indicate someone was alive in there. The house was eerily silent in response. If James was in there, he was an exceptionally quiet snoozer, but that wasn’t unheard of. Standing there for a good minute or so, I finally gathered the courage to depress the handle degree by slow degree until I could push the door forward. As if in response to my earlier alarm bells, a big oak bed greeted me, with a large lump in the middle of it. James appeared to be completely buried under the covers. I didn’t like that scenario much. If I couldn’t see flesh, I wasn’t entirely convinced, so looking all around me to make sure the coast was clear, I approached cautiously.

  Desperately wanting to peel back the covers and check James was in there, I decided that would be foolhardy at best. The slightest movement might awake him, and I wasn’t prepared to take that chance. Thankfully, this wasn’t a life or death situation, so if my decision backfired on me, it wouldn’t be the end of the earth. Tiptoeing further into the room, I took a cursory look around, trying to figure out where he’d leave his phone. On the bedside cabinets? No, they were empty of everything except a glass of water and an alarm clock. The only other furniture in the room was a wardrobe, and it was feasible that his cell might be resting inside. There was also a chance it might be charging in a socket somewhere, lazing about on the floor, or in another room of the house entirely.

  I was brave enough to walk around to the other side of the bed, just to make sure it wasn’t on the floor, but I wasn’t opening the wardrobe unless it was a last resort. I’d search the rest of the house first. Turning around to sneak back out again, I nearly died when I saw James standing in the doorway. He held a CZ 75 pistol in his hand that was currently aimed at my head. Apparently, he didn’t think much of my snooping. The snick of the safety being released confirmed that he was pissed.

  “Evening, Lois.” He smiled at me, but the smile did not reach his eyes. He was looking at me as a predator looks at prey, and that was not a good thing. That meant I was in trouble. Standing there, in my ridiculously short nightshirt, I held on to the tremors that wanted to escape.

  “James.” My voice was soft.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” His tone had a hard quality, and this James was a world away from my earlier saviour. His eyes were big, black orbs, and they were soulless.

  “I can explain,” I whispered, even though I couldn’t. What I could do was lie, but those didn’t tend to work very well against this man.

  Using his free hand to flick the light switch, he bathed the room in colour, and I blinked against the glare.

  “You can explain slowly sneaking into every room in the house, before settling on my room to do some more intimate sneaking? This should be good. Let’s have it, then.” His aim didn’t waver.

  I let out a long, slow breath and realised that my usually sharp brain wasn’t firing as quickly as it normally did. “Well…” I stalled.

  “Get on your knees first, Lois. If I’m going to interrogate you, I might as well do it properly.”

  Swallowing hard, I raised my gaze to connect with James’s, and now that his features were lit up, I felt the air rush out of my body. There was desire in his eyes, and I felt a pool of answering heat collect at the juncture of my legs. Dammit to hell, this was exactly what I didn’t need right now.

  Staying right where I was, I said, “You won’t shoot me.” It didn’t come out as confidently as I hoped, but it was a reasonable effort.

  Unfortunately, my words had the opposite effect I’d hoped for. He dropped his aim to my thigh and began counting. “Three… two…”

  I was on my knees before he could utter number one, and my pulse rate had just managed to hit an all-new record high. Using my hands, I steadied myself against his thighs before drawing back as if I’d been stung.

  “Spoilsport,” he uttered.

  Replacing the safety, he tucked the pistol in the back of his jeans.

  “Fold your hands behind your back, Lois.” His voice was low and deadly.

  “Or what?” I muttered, already furious that my knees had collided with the cold, solid travertine tiles. The contact stung, and I wasn’t used to being bested by anyone.

  “Or I rip that delightful little T-shirt off you, bend you over the bed, and fuck every single hole you possess several times over, whether you like it or not.”

  My eyes drew upwards to meet his as my mouth opened in shock. “You wouldn’t,” I squeaked, although I suspected he absolutely would.

  “Eyes on the floor, Lois. You look up at me again and I’ll make good on my threat.” The biting quality to his voice had my eyes on his shoes instantly, and my arms wound themselves behind me. For some reason, the fact that I obeyed him made me furious.

  “I’m not afraid of you,” I whispered.

  He bent over me, gripping my wrists together and tying something around them whilst he murmured in my ear, “Not yet, you aren’t, but you will be.” He then straightened himself up, presenting me with his bulging crotch. Fuck.

  I didn’t risk a glance upwards to see if his eyes had the conviction of his words. I didn’t need to. We were playing a game I couldn’t hope to win.

  “Right, this is how it’s going to work. You’re going to tell me exactly what you were doing in my room. If I detect any stalling or lying, there will be a forfeit to pay, Lois. Can you guess what it might be?”

  I didn’t want to guess, so I remained stubbornly silent. If I were to guess, I’d say it involved sex or sucking his cock, but I wasn’t about to volunteer that information willingly.

  “Fair enough,” he said when he’d given me more than enough time to reply. “We’ll leave it as a surprise. He then threaded his fingers through the mop of my now nearly dry hair and pulled sharply at the roots, yanking my head back. Looking me squarely in the eye, he said, “What were you doing in my room, Lois?”

  “I was looking for a phone. I wanted to call home.” It was only half a lie, and there was no stalling. I managed to utter it without blinking, fidgeting, or stammering. He’d have to be a fucking God or mind reader to see past that.

  He brushed my bottom lip with the pad of his thumb three or four times before he said, “There’s your first lie.” With his free hand, he slowly undid the zip of his black jeans, then pressed my nose into his crotch. There was no way I could move. His grip on my hair was too tight to do anything. Sitting still, I concentrated on breathing. He’d release me eventually. And he did, but not before I got a massive eyeful of his crown jewels.

  “Let’s try that question again, Lois, and this time, if you fuck me around, you can pull my boxers down slowly with your teeth and let that naughty little tongue of yours lick its way back up my cock.�
� Yanking my head back sharply again, so he could lavish me with a look forged in hell, he repeated, “What were you doing in my room, Lois?”

  I nearly choked in my hurry to get my words out. “I was looking for your phone,” I protested. “Not to call home, though. I wanted to text Sharkey.”

  There was a sigh, and then a long pause, before he said, “You disappoint me, Lois.”

  “No, I was telling the truth!” My eyes bulged in my head whilst my nervous system battered a firestorm of neurons together. It looked like I was going to have dinner after all, and I wasn’t sure if I should be horrified or pleased. James continued before I could figure out which one it was.

  “I’m disappointed, because whilst I now know that you’re telling the truth, a true submissive would have jumped at the chance to blow someone.” He released the grip he had on my hair and pulled the zipper of his fly back up.

  “Go to bed, Lois. You’re going home first thing in the morning.” He ran his hand through his mop of dark brown hair, squeezed his eyes shut before reopening them, and then added, “Oh, and by the way, the cell is in the car, and if you can get past the well-respected Mercedes security system, you’ll need to figure out my six-digit passcode and fake my fingerprint. With your hands tied behind your back, I think you’re going to have a fun evening.” Turning around, he switched the light off, strode out of the room, and shut the door.

  Eleven

  Well, that told me. Apparently, I was not sex-slave material. I didn’t know whether to be flattered or annoyed. Anyway, there wasn’t time to think about that now. I had to focus, because I had a busy evening ahead of me.

  Jumping in the middle of James’s big double bed, I did a series of rather painful contortionist moves to get my tied hands back in front of me. Thankfully, I was pretty fit. Whilst my arms would probably be sore tomorrow, the damage wouldn’t last for long. When I’d got them under my backside and managed to thread my legs through them, the hard work was nearly over. Now I just had to worry the knot with my teeth and hope he hadn’t been a Boy Scout.

  After ten long minutes of chewing, I delivered a whole vocabulary of cuss words to James’s Scoutmaster. He’d knotted the cotton cloth in several different places, and when I finally got free of the infernal thing, I could almost have offered myself up as a virgin sacrifice to any God that would have me. The fact that I wasn’t actually a virgin would be a moot point, I was sure. Scowling darkly, I threw the swathe of black material on the floor. Deciding to keep the near death, or, and probably more accurately, actual death experiences for when I entered Alain’s house, I had things to do, cars to break into, and iPhones to hack. The night was not young, either, so I’d better get a move on.

  At least the first task of the evening would be easy. Opening up my right palm to reveal the treasure hidden within, I grinned to myself. There, nestled inside my hand, was a set of car keys. Sporting the familiar three triangle emblem, they were the keys to a Mercedes saloon. When I landed on the floor, on my knees in front of him, I didn’t actually think he’d shoot me, but it wasn’t worth taking the risk. It also gave me ample opportunity to land heavily against him and whip his keys out of his pocket. I’d had a feeling I might need them, and my hunch had proved correct. Opening the car was going to be a cinch. Everything after that would be a bastard, but at least the car would be relatively painless.

  Pressing my ear to the door, I listened for sounds of movement outside. I gave it a minute, but in that time, I heard nothing. Maybe James had decided I wasn’t much of a threat with my arms tied, and had finally gone to bed. It was time to find out.

  Pulling the door lever down sharply, to minimise the resulting squeak, I paused and listened intently. It was still deathly quiet. Good. Then I pulled back and… nothing. What the hell? My jaw dropped. He’d locked me in! How had I missed that? Geez, I was slipping. No wonder there wasn’t a sound to be heard. The man had nothing to worry about. I was locked in a room with my hands tied up. How much trouble could I be?

  Urrghh. Next time I came on assignment, I was going to hide my lock picking kit in an internal cavity. Honestly. Biting my lip in frustration, I did a few deep yoga breaths to get some perspective on the situation. In through the nose and out through the mouth. In through the nose… fuck that. What was I thinking? Where did I need to be? Outside. Were there any other exits out of the room? Yes. There was a window. Was it locked? I ran over to check. No. Fan-bloody-tastic. This could still work.

  Opening the window to its widest angle, I decided it was a good job I hadn’t eaten much this week. The leaded windowpanes were narrow, but they left just about enough space for me to squeeze through. Thankfully, I was on the ground floor, so the drop was a small one. That was my only plus. On the minus side, I landed straight into a rose bush, several thorns diving straight through one foot, and the other foot landed ankle deep in mud. I sighed. It was going to be one of those days. Untangling my T-shirt from the blasted plant that wanted to eat me alive, I searched slowly from left to right, looking for a car. Nothing. As it was going to be difficult to hide, I figured there must be some kind of parking space around the back. Sprinting down the stone steps and over the gravel, I winced. Still, it was too late to worry about shoes. If my feet were going to be cut to ribbons, I might as well make sure it was for a good reason.

  Sure enough, behind the back of the house there was a double garage, and nestled in one of the spaces was a jet black Mercedes. As soon as I was in grabbing distance of the door handle, I depressed the central locking release button and a bright flash of the indicators greeted me. Success. From there, it didn’t take me long to find his cell and charger in the glove compartment, which wasn’t locked. James, you’re a total amateur, I thought, but I couldn’t help a sigh of relief. It would make my job considerably easier.

  Searching the back seat of the car, I wondered if there was a laptop stashed in here somewhere. There was no question there would be one about somewhere, but was it in the car or the house? Leaning over the seat, I confirmed that it wasn’t in the back, but it might be in the trunk. When he’d arrived, he’d been in a rush to get me indoors, so there was a chance he hadn’t bothered to unload anything yet. Crossing my fingers that my luck would hold just a little bit longer, I got out of the car and opened the trunk. For the first time that day, I smiled. There was an Antler laptop bag, and an overnight bag, if I wasn’t much mistaken. Holding my breath, I pulled out the slim case and unzipped it. An Apple Mac greeted me. Not sure if my day could get any better, I nestled myself in the back seat of the car, oblivious to the cold that was once again seeping into my bones, and fired up the computer. From there it was all smooth sailing. All I had to do was switch it off and reboot it in recovery mode. It was simple enough to change the password and begin my second trial of the evening - the iPhone. This was a little more challenging, but where there was a will, there was indeed a way.

  When I’d finally hacked my way into James’s phone, managing to bypass both the code and fingerprint recognition software, I was shivering once again, though I didn’t let it bother me. I sent a quick text to Miss Sharkey, having memorised her number off by heart, and that was almost it. There was just the small matter of how to get back into the main house again. I could either try to go in via the door in my room, or the front door, but both options were locked and would require some careful ‘nudging’ before I carried out the next part of my plan.

  Shutting the car door quietly, grasping the torch I found by the driver’s side door, I padded around to the garage area. I guess you’d call it a cart lodge really, because there weren’t any doors to the structure. There were two wooden arches where you could drive a couple of cars through, and a couple of makeshift plywood shelves that ran around the interior. They were covered in all sorts of things, from half-used paint cans to car wax and chamois leather, but there was nothing that was going to get through a locked door for me. Urrgh, please don’t let me fall at the last hurdle, I thought sourly as I searched through every
last scrap available on the shelves. I wanted something thin, preferably metallic, and sturdy. A small screwdriver would have been excellent, but I didn’t think my luck was going to extend that far. A ballpoint pen would have been lovely. You can just slide the ink cartridge out and use that, but none were forthcoming. My favourite place to search for picks was usually the garage, but failing that, the kitchen was a good second choice. Bamboo skewers or toothpicks worked a treat. Alas, I wasn’t getting near the kitchen without a lock pick, so I needed to find something outside. As I worked around the shelves, I began to get a little despondent. Sponges, window wash, plant pots, fertiliser, a few coins, several old receipts, lots of rags, and a handheld vacuum cleaner were found and discarded. Reaching the end of the shelves and coming up empty-handed, I wanted to scream, but I didn’t have time to waste.

  Giving up on the garage, I went back inside the Mercedes and decided I’d search the thing from top to bottom to find a pen. There had to be one in there somewhere. I went through all the pockets and compartments, searched under the seats and mats, and even went into the trunk to look for treasure. No joy. Exhausting all my options, I finally had one last chance left. It was with bated breath that I sat the laptop case back on my lap and crossed all the fingers and toes that I had. Could there be a pen in here?