For Sparrow (The Dream Dominant Collection Book 3)

by Pandora Spocks

  She remained on the bathroom floor, crying until her head ached. Then she showered quickly, popped three Tylenol PMs, and crawled into bed, ignoring the blinking notifications on her phone.

  The next morning, she’d just begun to stir when her phone rang. She stared at the photo on the screen, one of Judd she’d taken when they were in the Bahamas. With a knot in her stomach, she waited until the phone stopped ringing, followed up a moment later with a telltale blip, informing her that someone had left a voicemail message.

  Shakily, she reached for the device and pressed to listen.

  “Hi Angel, it’s me. Listen, I’m worried. Please call me so we can talk. Okay?”

  She clapped a hand over her mouth, momentarily fearful that she might be sick. Angel. Even now, the nickname nearly melted her heart. But she couldn’t let that cloud her thinking. Her life was here, in this house. Working her job, being there for her children.

  And Judd’s life was out there, pursuing adventure, Domming some young woman who’d share his love of surf and sand and public kink.

  Before she changed her mind, she quickly texted a terse reply. Don’t call me again.

  Then she turned off the phone and burrowed beneath the covers.

  LATER THAT MORNING, Jessi felt like an empty shell, but she forced one foot in front of the other, dressing and heading in to work. There were a handful of new bookings, including a huge formal wedding at Bethesda-by-the-Sea on Palm Beach. That one was nearly four months away, but it would require a great deal of preparation.

  Coffee soured in her stomach, and she popped a couple of Tums before she left her car and walked into the office. Sarah was already in.

  “Good morning, toots. How was the wedding?”

  Jessi forced a smile. “It was great. The yacht weddings usually are.”

  Sarah frowned a bit. “Everything okay? You seem...off a little.”

  Jessi continued toward her office. “I’m fine. My stomach is a little iffy this morning, that’s all.”

  Brow knitted in concern, Sarah continued to stare after Jessi after she’d disappeared into her office. She’d known her friend and business partner for many years. Something was bothering Jessi, but she’d just have to let her express it in her own time.

  JUDD SLOGGED THROUGH the week following the wedding, thankful for small favors. With Alex away on his honeymoon, at least there was no one to question him about his sullen demeanor. Judd even volunteered to cover some extra shifts at the station, figuring keeping busy was the best way to avoid the dark thoughts that surfaced every time he had a quiet moment.

  I’m no kind of Dominant at all. I can’t control my own life, let alone someone else’s. I’ve been kidding myself this whole time. I’m a sham.

  In his down time, he found himself online, perusing the Sparrow’s Master blog. Apparently, Jessi had forgotten it was there. At any rate, she hadn’t bothered to take it down. His doubts and misgivings were exactly the kind of thing he’d have talked over with Graham. The irony wasn’t lost on Judd.

  The following week, Alex returned to work. Judd was grateful for the distraction.

  “I’m telling you, man, that cruise was amazing. I thought we’d be bored, but there was something different to do every night. If we wanted to leave the stateroom. Which we didn’t, most nights,” he laughed, playfully elbowing Judd in the ribs.

  “That’s great,” Judd forced a grin. “So, how’s married life?”

  “Best thing I ever did. Should have done it sooner, truth be told. Trish? She’s amazing, I swear. I’m a lucky man.” He looked over to Judd. “When are you going to marry that beautiful redhead of yours?”

  Judd’s mouth formed a tight line as he swiped at an imaginary spot on the rig. “We aren’t together anymore.”

  Alex’s eyes bugged out. “What? That’s crazy. What happened?”

  “I don’t know, man. I just don’t know.” Judd turned and headed back into the station.

  Chapter 47

  Everyone needs a day off once in a while.

  That’s what Gary reasoned to himself anyway. On the other hand, if your position was strictly volunteer, did you actually merit a day off?

  Eff-it! If he wanted a G.D. day off, by gosh, he’d take a day off. Besides, Walt Disney World was on his bucket list. He’d checked into a cheap motel in Kissimmee the night before, having found a coupon in a booklet at the McDonald’s he’d stopped at on his way south from Jacksonville.

  That morning, he’d gotten up bright and early, driven himself to the Magic Kingdom, and had been directed to leave his beige Impala in the Zurg section, row 107. Who the eff is Zurg, he wondered to himself as he made his way to the ticket booths at the front entrance to the park. That’s where he got a shocker.

  “It’s how much for one day?” he questioned the lady in the booth. She repeated what she’d said, Disney grin firmly in place. He hesitated for a moment, but then fished the cash out of his wallet.

  What the hell, it’s a bucket list thing. Might as well.

  As he entered the hallowed grounds of the land of Mouse, Gary felt a spark of excitement. He’d always wanted to come here as a kid, but the Gentry family had never had money to spend on luxuries like family vacations. His stay-at-home mother had taken in sewing to bring in a little money. His father had worked odd jobs as a handy man. Until emphysema, and eventually lung cancer claimed him.

  The funny thing was that the old man had been worth more dead than alive—he’d been part of a class-action suit against one of the big tobacco companies, and the payout had been substantial. His mother, spend-thrift that she was, had managed to make the money last. Which was good for Gary. He’d taken what he’d seen as his cut before he’d left on his odyssey across the country. She hadn’t said two words to him about it, either. He’d seen to that for G.D. sure.

  Gary shook his head to clear away unpleasant thoughts. He was in the ‘Happiest Place on Earth.’ By gosh, he was going to enjoy it.

  “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU and Judd aren’t together anymore?” Cara asked, shock on her face. She’d completed her two week notice in Atlanta and come home for a few days before starting her new job in Dallas.

  More than six weeks had passed since she’d last spoken to Judd, and Jessi’s heart still ached. “What part of that was unclear, Cara?” She tried unsuccessfully to keep the exasperation out of her voice. “We’re not together anymore.”

  “Holy shit,” her daughter murmured, sinking onto the living room couch. She looked up at Jessi. “What happened?”

  Jessi shook her head. “It just didn’t work out, that’s all. Things happen...”

  “You wouldn’t sleep with him, is that it? He got tired of waiting for you? Because, jeez, Mom, guys expect you to give some, you know? I mean, a little BJ now and then...”

  “Cara!” Jessi’s voice was sharp. “We’re not having this conversation.” Angrily, she headed into the kitchen and began getting out what she’d need to make a pan of lasagna.

  She slammed a pound of ground beef onto the counter. Wouldn’t sleep with him, my ass. If she only knew. No, Cara, sleeping with him was incredible. I especially loved when he tied me up and fucked me from behind. Then there was the time we hit a BDSM club and a stranger joined us for a threesome. Nope, sex was not a problem.

  Sheepishly, Cara followed her into the kitchen and popped up on a stool at the counter. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I know you loved him. He was a nice guy.”

  Jessi froze, willing the tears back where they came from. She cleared her throat. “Yes, he was. But that’s in the past.” Turning away, she retrieved a pan and set it on the stove. “Now, how about you help me with the lasagna?”

  JUDD STRUGGLED TO GET through his days, and stress at work didn’t help matters any. A new, more toxic supply of opioids had hit the streets, and Judd and Alex found themselves scooping up patient after patient who had overdosed on the stuff. After one such run, they were standing at the ER desk filling out paperwork
when they heard a cheerful voice.

  “Hello, gentlemen. Brought us another one, I see.”

  Judd looked up to see Stacy. “Yup. It’s been that kind of week, I suppose.”

  “We’re having a little get together after shift tonight. Are you interested?”

  Her question was directed at both men, but she was staring at Judd. Alex glanced at his partner and said, “I think I’ll go find some coffee, Farris. Meet you at the rig.”

  Judd watched Alex head down the hallway toward the cafeteria, then turned back to Stacy. Her blue eyes sparkled in amusement.

  “Looks like your partner left you,” she laughed lightly. “So how about it? It’s no big deal, really. Just a group of us. We head out to Pirate’s Well. The do a special Happy Hour for hospital staff.”

  Judd hadn’t done anything besides work and sleep over the past few weeks. He looked to Stacy, her head tilted curiously to one side as she watched him try to decide.

  Finally, he nodded. “You know, that sounds good. I could use a cold beer.”

  “Great! I’ll see you there.”

  JUDD PULLED HIS F-150 into the narrow strip of a parking lot at the end of the bar, but he didn’t get out right away. Glancing into the review mirror, he saw judgement looking back at him, and he blew out a frustrated breath. Jessi had shattered his world a little over a month ago, refusing to talk to him, refusing to give him a chance to settle things.

  I should have turned her over my knee that night. She needed a spanking to knock some sense into her. To give us both a moment to think clearly. I would never insist that she sell that house. Things got heated, and before we could sort it out, she was gone.

  He shook his head miserably. He’d failed as a Dominant, failed to take charge, to give Jessi what she needed in that moment. It haunted him, eroding his confidence to the point where he doubted what he’d come to think of as his true nature. And if he wasn’t Dominant, who was he?

  He glanced toward the door of the bar. Stacy was already there, she’d texted him. She was attractive, with her blonde hair, blue eyes, and bubbly personality. But he was reasonably sure she was pure vanilla.

  Which is perfect, because I’m clearly no kind of Dom, he thought miserably. With one last glance in the mirror, he opened the door, climbed out of the truck, and headed inside.

  It wasn’t until a month later that he and Stacy slept together for the first time.

  Chapter 48

  Disney World didn’t live up to the hype, at least in Gary’s opinion. It was effing expensive, for one thing. Just getting in cost a fortune, then heaven forbid you should want something to eat or drink. He had plenty of money, mind you, but he couldn’t be foolish enough to spend it all. He’d justified the stop by telling himself that, A, it was a bucket list item, and B, after his success in the Outer Banks, he deserved a reward.

  He laughed, considering how he’d nearly given up after the fiasco in Buffalo. But in North Carolina, he’d gotten his groove back. And he’d show them in Orlando—you don’t ignore Gary Wayne Gentry.

  The morning after his visit to the Magic Kingdom, he awoke with a pounding headache, which he blamed on those sum’bitch kids out by the motel pool the previous night. He hadn’t gotten to sleep until after 3:00am. And he had serious recon to do to find the perfect spot for his next appointment.

  As he left his room for the day, he saw a housekeeping cart on the walkway a few doors down. In the room, a maid was making the beds.

  “Hey! Can’t you all do something about all the G.D. noise here at night?” he shouted at the startled woman.

  “I am sorry, sir,” she stammered in a thick Caribbean accent. “You may tell the clerk at the front desk.”

  Gary couldn’t understand what the woman said. It hadn’t occurred to him that she might not be American. Which was what was wrong with this country, if you asked him. All the G.D. foreigners coming in and taking over, with their mumbo-jumbo kind of talk.

  “Aw, eff this shit! Learn some English, will ya?” Gary stormed to the beige Impala and peeled out of the parking lot as the stunned housekeeper looked on.

  THAT EVENING, MARTINE St. Pierre sank into a tattered easy chair in front of her television and turned on the national news. Her apartment outside Orlando was small, but it beat what she’d left behind in Haiti three years earlier. She was happy to have her housekeeping job at the motel in Kissimmee, but it left her exhausted most days.

  Today had been exceptionally strenuous—a church youth group had wrecked ten rooms, and she’d spent the morning trying to put them back together. It hadn’t helped that a guest insisted on complaining to her about the noise of the previous night. She’d tried her best, but the short man with thin blond hair hadn’t understood her, and he’d finally given up, driving away quickly in his old tan car. Martine didn’t like drama, and would rather avoid interacting with motel guests if at all possible. Best leave them to the front desk, was her opinion.

  A pair of grainy photos flashed on the screen and recaptured her attention. “According to authorities in Buffalo, the man in the photo is considered a person of interest in a pair of shootings that left a firefighter injured and another person dead. If you have any information about either this man or the beige sedan, please contact the FBI immediately.”

  Martine stared at the screen, knowing immediately it was the man from the motel. Her initial thought was to mind her own business. She was in good standing with immigration, was even taking classes toward citizenship. She certainly didn’t need trouble.

  But when photos of the shooting victims appeared, she knew she had to do the right thing. She picked up her phone and dialed the number on the screen.

  TWENTY-FOUR HOURS LATER, an FBI SWAT team brandishing warrants showed up at a farmhouse outside of Topeka. It was the home of one Gary Wayne Gentry, the address having been acquired when they’d run the plates of a car that had been registered at a cheap motel in central Florida. When no one answered the doorbell, an agent used a battering ram to knock down the front door.

  Agents in tactical gear methodically searched and cleared the small house, pausing at a closed door near the back. Bath towels had been rolled up and stuffed in the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. They exchanged glances and readied their weapons as someone cautiously swung the door open.

  The stench nearly knocked them off their feet, and a cloud of flies used the open door as an opportunity to make its escape. The décor of the room and the scattered personal effects were distinctly feminine.

  On the bed were the remains of what had once been a person. A pillow covered the place where a head should have been. Assured that the house was secure, the team filed outside, gulping lungfuls of fresh air. The captain pressed a button on his radio. “The scene is locked down. No, he’s not here. But I think we found the mother.”

  JESSI PULLED INTO THE driveway after a long day at the office. She found that she preferred working there rather than from home, and had developed a habit of arriving around 7:00 each morning, working until at least 7:00 in the evening if not later. Sarah had tried to talk to her about taking it easier, but Jessi was afraid to slow down, afraid of the dark thoughts that circled when she let her guard down. As it was, she felt as though she were sleepwalking through her days. And she knew she drank way too much wine each night.

  Armed with stacks of catalogs and samples, Jessi fumbled with the key to her front door. As she opened the door and stepped inside, something fluttered to the floor. She set her things on the kitchen island and went back to close the door. Bending down, she picked up a business card, which she read, frowning.

  Janice Pratt, Elite Realty

  The photo showed a smiling, confident blonde. A note was scrawled on the back. I have buyers who love this neighborhood. If you’re considering a move, I’d love to help.

  Jessi’s frown turned into a scowl and she stalked to the kitchen trash, holding the card out over the receptacle. She chewed her lower lip and paused, finally electing
to toss the card onto a stack of mail on the kitchen counter.

  ORLANDO TURNED OUT to be a complete bust. Gary had wasted a shit-ton of money and a whole day at a theme park. And the next day, he realized he’d never seen so many surveillance cameras in any other city. Ultimately, he’d cut his losses and headed west. Tampa might offer more opportunities.

  He arrived after sundown, checking into a cheap motel close to downtown. Then he headed out on foot to a bar he’d seen just a block down. He chose a booth in a dark corner that afforded him a view of the whole place. The joint was about half full, and patrons chatted quietly among themselves. A bank of televisions over the bar droned in the background.

  He’d considered wearing his uniform, but had thought better of it. The uniform was a privilege he hadn’t earned.

  A waitress in a black tank top and short denim shorts brought his Bud draft, took his order for meatloaf and mashed potatoes, and wandered off again in the direction of the kitchen. She was cute, but didn’t look at him twice. Which was the story of his life. He wondered what she’d think if she knew of his travels. He fantasized that she’d be impressed, want to leave her job and go with him.

  His head snapped up when he heard his name. Over the shoulder of the talking head on the center television, Gary saw his home in Kansas, bright yellow police tape fluttering in ribbons around the whole house. The anchor peered grimly into the camera.

  “Again, the FBI is looking for 42-year-old Gary Wayne Gentry in connection with a series of shootings of first responders all across the country that have resulted in a number of injuries and six deaths. When authorities tried to serve a warrant today at Gentry’s Kansas home, they found what they believe to be the remains of Gentry’s mother, 70-year-old Trudy Gentry.”

  The report went on to show surveillance stills of both Gary and his car. By the time the waitress served his meatloaf and mashed potatoes, Gary was gone.