Blaze

by Piper Stone

  “Tell me that you don’t need a hard spanking.”

  Stasha opened her mouth as if to object. “I…”

  “You know you need discipline. Am I wrong?” He hadn’t realized how much he missed having this in his life. He’d thought his desires were too controlling for any woman to be able to tolerate. He’d heard the stories of the other jumpers, knew about their respective relationships. They’d found their slice of nirvana, but for him, the concept seemed a distant thought, just a memory from a single amazing relationship.

  Swallowing hard, she groaned. “No, you’re not wrong. I just…”

  “Tell me you know why I’m going to spank you.” Boone continued to rub her back then dragged a single finger down the crack of her ass.

  “Jesus, what you do to me.” Shuddering, she studied his face.

  “Well?”

  “I, um… I need a spanking. Discipline. I want nothing more than to feel a firm hand, punishment when I can’t follow the rules.” Her eyes opened wide as if shocked that the words had been emitted from her mouth.

  “I know exactly what you need.” He waited, allowing her to understand, to submit and feel free. The moment she gripped the edge of the table, he held his breath and counted to five. “Twenty with my hand. Ten with my belt.”

  Stasha seemed resigned, even relieved and pressed her face against the cool wood.

  The night before had awakened his voracious appetite, adding fuel to the embers that had remained burning for years. He patted both ass cheeks. “Rules. Number one, you can’t risk your own life. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Smack! Crack!

  “Oh!” Her whimpers were husky.

  Pop! Slap!

  “I know you’re tense, and spankings will help,” he huffed, keeping the tone of his voice even, authoritative.

  Whap! Pop!

  “Yes, sir.” Wiggling, she flexed her fingers then white knuckled the edge of the table.

  Crack! Pop! Smack! Slap!

  He peppered each ass cheek, his mind reeling as her skin began to turn red. Sweat rolled down his back, tickling his skin.

  Smack! Whap!

  “Ooohhh!” Jerking up, she quickly fell back down, her eyes darting back and forth. “I was spanked as a child. Every week. I deserved them. I never understood how much, but I know I need them now.”

  The words were telling, an opening into her very soul. He hesitated only for a minute before beginning again.

  “To stay centered. Focused.”

  “Yes, sir,” she managed.

  Smack! Slap!

  “You’re doing very well.” Caressing her ass, he was forced to wipe the sweat from his eyes. “Six more.”

  Pop! Crack!

  When he’d finished with the twenty, he noticed a slight smile on her face and she was no longer struggling. He took a long stride backwards, picking up and sliding the leather strap between his fingers, savoring the grain. Twisting the strap between his fingers, he was floored how enticed he was, how much this had awakened the sleeping man inside. He folded the two ends and rubbed the belt down the length of her spine.

  This time, she didn’t tense only breathed out, a smile remaining on her face.

  “Ten.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Crack! Slap!

  “Oh, fuck!” Stasha slapped her hands against the table.

  “None of that.” He wiped at the sweat, frustrated given his hand was shaking. Good God, he was out of practice.

  Whap! Smack!

  She twisted but her position remained as she panted.

  Pop! Slap!

  He admired the welts and held his breath.

  Crack! Whack!

  “Only two more.” Did he even speak the words? He blinked several times before finishing.

  Smack! Pop!

  Stasha unclenched her fists but didn’t move. Her skin was covered in a sheen of perspiration as well as goose bumps along her arms and legs.

  Bending over, he kissed along her spine as he caressed her ass. When both their breathing sounds were normal, he gathered her into his arms, cupping her breasts as he held her against his chest. He nuzzled into her neck and while he had no idea what to say, he knew there was no reason to talk. They were both content, happy.

  Tap! Tap!

  “Shit,” Stasha said under her breath and looked around his arm at the door.

  “The deputy,” he said, then laughed.

  “This isn’t good.”

  After kissing the top of her head, he released her and grabbed her clothes from the floor. “My bedroom is right in there. Come out when you’re dressed.”

  She bit her lower lip and scampered away.

  Tap! Tap!

  “Boone. You in there?”

  He recognized the voice and grabbed his shirt, quickly dressing. “Sorry.” When he flung open the door, he could tell by the curious look on the man’s face that he was holding back a comment. “Deputy Worth.” He’d known Carter Worth since almost the day he’d arrived in town.

  “Very funny, dude. Sheriff said you ran into some shit in the woods.”

  “Yeah. Dead horse.”

  Carter nodded and looked around him, his eyes locking on the table. “You want to go take a look?”

  “Do you?” Boone opened the door wider, allowing him in.

  “Not really. I heard enough of the story to know it’s pretty gruesome.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “Also heard you weren’t alone when you made the discovery.” Carter glanced around the perimeter of the kitchen.

  Boone closed the door and rolled his eyes. “You a detective now?”

  “Just trying to get all the facts. Not the first one of these I’ve gone to in the last couple of weeks.” Carter exhaled.

  “What does that mean?” Stasha walked back into the room, heading for the deputy.

  Carter flashed a grin in Boone’s direction before giving Stasha his full attention. “Had another shooting. A single horse with a gunshot wound was found wandering a rancher’s place just inside the town limits. My place is down that way, so I got the call.”

  “Did the horse live?” she asked.

  “Fortunately, yes. And you are?” Carter gave her a once over.

  “I’m sorry. Deputy Carter Worth, meet the new veterinarian in town, Stasha Parker.” As they shook hands, Boone had the distinct feeling that Carter recognized her.

  “Good to meet you, Doc and I’m sorry under these circumstances. What can you guys tell me about what happened?” Carter pulled out a chair and as he laid a notebook on the table, he was forced to move the belt.

  Boone grinned as he noticed Stasha. She held no hint of embarrassment. “If you’re saying this has happened before, then where are you at with the investigation?”

  Carter looked from one to the other. “Look, guys, you know I can’t talk about another case.”

  Squawk!

  Rolling his eyes, Carter held up his finger. “Hold on a second.” He tapped the communications unit on his shoulder. “This is Deputy Worth. I’m working a case.”

  “Carter, it’s Randy. I’m over here with the team at the old Dreyfus’ place, near where that horse was found.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Carter lifted his eyebrow and gave Boone a half smile.

  “No, you need to get here right now. We have a body. From what we can tell, it looks like the man was murdered.”

  He held the glass in his hand, swirling the whiskey around the two cubes of ice. The moonlight streamed in through the blindless windows, highlighting his shaking hand. This wasn’t from fear or anxiety but from the rage continuing to build deep inside. Time hadn’t healed any wounds, nor would they ever. And those involved would lose all that was precious to them. He took another sip, savoring the smoothness, the rich and full flavor before swallowing.

  He hadn’t moved from the window in a solid five minutes in an effort to soothe the angry beast ready to strike. He was goin
g to have to be very careful with the remainder of the plan. A careless worker could mean exposure. A pain ripped through the back of his eyes, creating tears. Hissing, he gulped the rest of his drink and turned toward the bar, half expecting one of his servants to be waiting in the shadows, prepared to do his bidding.

  He was very much alone.

  Chuckling, he knew he was going to have to get used to the fact, to the realization that he’d lost everything. But soon. Hell yeah, he’d take back everything that was stripped from him, no matter the cost. People were afraid of him and of what he could do.

  As they damn well should be.

  He sauntered over to the bar, resisting additional ice. As he held the expensive bottle into the glowing light, he smiled. No sense in feeling sorry for himself. He’d chosen this life as a way of dealing with his past. He poured another round and checked his watch. The call should be any minute. At least those he could count on knew better than to face his wrath.

  He heard his phone and smiled before answering. “What do you have for me?”

  “Unfortunately, he won’t budge. I’m sorry, Mr. Smith.”

  Bristling, he gripped the glass. “Well, then, we’ll do what is required at this point. Finish it.”

  “Are you certain? I mean—”

  “What do I fucking pay you for?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What about the other issue?” Mr. Smith took another gulp.

  “Well, sir, someone found the horse.”

  “What?” Mr. Smith hissed.

  “Yes, sir. We didn’t think anyone would be around and—”

  “No excuses! You failed.”

  The man’s voice was rattled as he spoke. “We can deal with this. We won’t fail you again.”

  “Well, you better. There are no more excuses. None. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Smith. We’ll take care of it.”

  Mr. Smith didn’t wait for the man to finish. He simply ended the call, angry that everything seemed to have gotten out of hand. Well, if there was one thing he knew, his enemies would accept it, or they would die. Throwing back his head, he screamed.

  The second his phone rang again, he snarled, foaming at the mouth. “What?”

  “Long time.”

  “What the fuck do you want?”

  “We’re going to share in the wealth.”

  Over his dead ass body.

  Chapter 6

  Murder. Boone remained on edge, pacing the floor. “I don’t know what to make of all of this.”

  “Well, maybe that’s the shot I heard last night.” Stasha’s statement was clipped. “I should go. I need to get back to the clinic and check out the pups.”

  “I wish you’d stay.”

  She sagged against the counter. “I loved what we shared, Boone. I did, but I just…”

  “But you don’t want anything complicated.”

  “I just can’t. Not right now. I have a clinic to get up and running and a life to figure out. This isn’t about you. I hope you know that. I spent years being under someone’s thumb and living a life the way I want to has become very important to me.”

  “What do you mean under someone’s thumb?” He could sense by her lack of response that the subject wasn’t one she was willing to talk about.

  She tried to smile. “You don’t know me at all, Boone. The truth is, you don’t want to know me.”

  Boone hesitated, trying to find an answer that would express his feelings. “Don’t you think there are certain aspects of my life that I keep very private, fearful what others would think of me?”

  “I doubt you have anything horrific to hide.”

  “What about tragic? What about devastating. Does that count?” He wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms. “I’d like to see you again. We don’t have to be lovers, but I would like to be friends. Do you think you can do that?”

  Rubbing her mouth, she gave a strangled moan. “I’d like that. Please understand that I’m not a very good person. I have too much baggage hanging around my neck. Lately, it’s become a noose.”

  “Okay. Friends.” His heart was aching. “Do friends have dinner together, maybe a drink?”

  A soft laugh pushed past her pursed lips. “Yes, I think that would be very nice.”

  Exhaling, he realized both fists were clenched. “There’s a place called Ziggy’s in town. Excellent food and anything you want to drink. The jumpers gather there from time to time. Tonight?”

  She studied him, her face pensive. “Tonight. I’ll be there. I’m not certain that I’ll be the best of company after today, but I’ll be there.”

  Closing the distance, he hesitated before reaching out, longing to caress her face. Instead, he rubbed her shoulder. “Horrible day. I can’t imagine what you’re thinking. We’ll figure out what’s going on.”

  “You sound so certain.”

  “I know the people in this town. The sheriff’s department is one of the best I’ve ever worked with. They will turn over every stone. Rest assured.”

  “I’m glad.” She tipped her head, her eyes darting back and forth. “You’re very special, Boone Martin. Never forget that.”

  “Let me help you get the pups.”

  “I’m fine. You have to remember, I’ve been doing this for a long time.”

  Nodding, he backed away and held his breath as she walked toward the door. Grab her. Don’t let her go. Refusing to listen to his inner voice, he stood stoically.

  Stasha twisted the handle then breathed out. “Thank you for everything.”

  The door closing was like an end and they hadn’t even begun. He knew one thing in his heart and mind. He wasn’t going to let her go that easily. Whatever darkness she had buried in her mind as well as her heart, he realized was eating her alive, sucking bits and pieces from her soul. Maybe she could learn to trust again.

  Twenty minutes later, and after Stasha had driven off, he walked outside, glaring at the woods just beyond his house. A half mile of thick forest. He would wait until the deputies and the evidence van had left, but he was going to do some investigation himself. There was a secret brewing in town and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

  Tugging out his phone, he decided to garner some help. Two pairs of eyes were certainly better than one. He dialed and walked closer to the tree line. The light smell of gunpowder remained. “Hey, Sawyer. Have time to help me with an investigation?”

  “Let me guess. You want to check out the ranch.” Sawyer laughed.

  “I do, but there’s more than one reason why.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite.”

  “Because a body was found on the perimeter.”

  Sawyer coughed. “Dude. This is way above our pay scale.”

  “You in?”

  “What the hell, but if you land our asses in jail, I’ll make certain you pay.”

  Boone snorted. “Deal. Meet me in two hours.”

  The afternoon sun remained golden, the winds light and a quiet had enveloped the forest surrounding Boone’s ranch. He stood outside, hands shoved into his back pockets, his concentration remaining on the densely wooded area. He’d spent the two hours scoping the internet, searching for any concept or reasons behind the recent turn of events. He’d reached out to an old contact from his earlier days spent on the rodeo circuit. If any criminal activities were going on, Colton Spencer would know.

  Now, a decorated Park Ranger out of Idaho, he’d maintained connections with every rodeo organization and was considered a legend with those involved. He was also someone he could trust. He wasn’t certain what he was hoping to accomplish, but the sick feeling remained in the pit of his stomach, a distinct knowing there were aspects of the circuit that were more political than sport.

  Boone heard Sawyer’s beat up Bronco, the catalytic converter giving his arrival away every time. Snickering, he sauntered toward the driveway, waiting as the souped-up four-wheel drive made its way toward the house.

  Sawyer pulled the Bronc
o beside Boone’s Mustang and opened the door, the rusty hinges creaking more than usual. Wearing his signature sunglasses and a wry smile, he stopped when he noticed Boone’s amused expression. “What?”

  “You need a new truck.”

  “I have a perfectly good truck, thank you.” Grinning, he patted the driver’s door, caressing the vibrant mural as if a beloved creature.

  “One day you’re going to break down in the wrong part of town,” Boone offered, walking closer.

  “I already have more than once.” He gazed at the line of trees and frowned. “What do you think is going on?”

  “You tell me. You seem to know more about the people who own the ranch next door. A hell of a lot of activity over the last few days. Why would anyone drag a horse out here to slaughter, let alone drop a body to die?”

  “You were serious,” Sawyer stated then coughed.

  Boone nodded. “Yeah. A litter of puppies found, a horse being killed then a body found. The connection must be for a reason. And there were two guys in an old pickup truck leaving the scene.”

  Sawyer scanned the perimeter before speaking. “Look, I’ve been around here a long time. There are secrets being harbored like any town in the US. There are also very powerful families that go way back and, in this case, and only from what my father told me, directly to the days of cowboys and Indians.”

  “O-kay. What are you trying to tell me?”

  “I’m trying to tell you that a hell of lot of power is wielded in this town by a few families. Doesn’t matter they are no longer players in the political arena. What they say goes and they have extremists as followers. At least in my opinion.”

  Glancing up at the sky, Boone wrinkled his nose. “Let’s cut the bullshit here. It’s me you’re talking to.”

  Sawyer grinned. “The Dreyfus family owns the property next door and no less than two thousand acres in Montana, more in Idaho. There are several branches of the family but only one that matters, the three direct descendants of the original patriarch. I don’t know shit about them and, in truth, the entire family has faded into the woodwork. What I do know is they had several horse ranches, produced a solid ten thoroughbred winners and we’re talking the Kentucky Derby. They branched out to other aspects including show jumping and even rodeos. In other words, they are the driving but silent force behind the industry.”