by Jamie Hill
Mitzi massaged the ball of one foot for a moment before firing up her laptop to go over the night’s receipts. Removing her cell phone from her pocket, she scrolled through messages for anything important. Nothing that can’t wait. She set the phone aside and turned her attention to her computer.
Business had been as brisk as the weather. Something about cold nights brought people to the club in droves. When she saw the impressive numbers she could only smile. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.
A loud crashing noise from downstairs caught her attention. Something had fallen over. Dave and Tricia were normally quick about leaving. She couldn’t imagine they were still here.
Mitzi padded out to the hallway in her nylon stockings and leaned over the railing. “Dave?” she called loudly.
There was no answer.
“Tricia?”
Nothing.
Damn it. Slightly irritated, she trounced down the stairs to see what was going on. If those two were getting frisky in one of the rooms she might just let them have it. The place was closed. They could take that stuff somewhere else.
The club was dark and quiet. She didn’t see anything out of place, and wondered what had made the crashing sound. She walked through the bar area and flipped on the first light switch she came to.
Dave was lying on the floor, a pool of blood forming under his body. Stunned, Mitzi covered her mouth with her hands. She bent down to look at his face and spotted a bullet hole in the middle of his head. She still didn’t understand exactly what had happened, but something was terribly wrong.
She turned and saw Tricia’s body lying a few feet away with another bullet hole and a similar pool of blood. Panic gripped her as terror coursed through her veins. Mitzi struggled to remain calm. Must call nine-one-one.
Patting her pockets frantically, she remembered the cell was on her desk upstairs. No time for that, she hurried to the regular phone on the wall by the hostess’ stand. She grabbed the receiver, but before she could dial, another noise brought her focus back to the bar.
A man dressed in dark jeans and a black hoodie rose from behind the bar, his arms full of liquor bottles. He looked at Mitzi and his eyes narrowed.
She’d never forget the vicious expression on his face at that moment.
He yelled over his shoulder, “Someone else is here!”
Another man appeared wearing the same attire and carrying a loaded canvas bag. “Fuck!” he swore and dropped the bag.
They’re robbing the place. She didn’t have time to complete her call. She had to get out—fast.
The second man reached behind his back and pulled out a revolver, aiming it at Mitzi.
She glanced around. There was nothing on the hostess stand except paper and pens, but right next to it was a table where they kept a bowl full of promotional giveaways. Currently, it held pink and black stress balls for patrons to take and use as desired. The balls had ‘pleasure or pain?’ printed on them. Mitzi had thought it was cute at the time she’d ordered them.
She grabbed one of the palm-sized rubber balls and chucked it at the head of the man holding the gun. Her aim was off and she missed. But he ducked, which gave her enough time to make a break for it.
Mitzi raced to the front door, unlocked it, and ran shoeless and screaming into the frozen night.
Chapter One
Present day
Topeka, Kansas
“You have got to be freaking kidding me.” US Marshal Ben Markham stared at his chief with disbelief.
Evan Rhodes didn’t crack a smile. “Nope. You and Olivia are up next in the rotation. This case is all yours.” He handed a file folder to Ben.
Ben flipped through the sheaf of papers. “Pomeroy’s Palace of Pleasure and Pain?” He glanced around. “Seriously? Are there hidden cameras somewhere? You’re punking me.”
His coworker, Nick Pierce, grabbed the folder and read from the first page. “Mitzi Pomeroy was the proprietor of one of the largest BDSM social clubs in Kansas City. When she stumbled upon a double murder in the club and was able to identify the perpetrators, she entered witness security.” He grinned, glancing at their boss. “Oh, please! Let me have this one. This is too good to be true. I’ll take it.”
Rhodes scoffed. “Your wife would kill you, and then she’d come looking for me. No way, Pierce. Ben and Olivia have this case. I can trust him not to get carried away.”
“What the hell?” Nick laughed. “You can trust me.”
The chief shook his head again. “I know it, but truth be told, I’m more afraid of your wife than I am of you. Jordan would have my hide. No, you’ve got your assignment. The Brooks family is the safer choice for you…and me.” He rolled his eyes and returned to his office.
His was the only private space in the Topeka Witsec branch. The marshals shared a bullpen area with their desks in one big room. Ben and his partner of nearly two years, Olivia Newman, had one section with their desks facing each other. Doug Jackson was one of the senior marshals; he and his partner Jordan Burke had facing desks a few feet away.
Their newest marshal wasn’t so new at all. Nick Pierce had been with the Topeka branch for a few years when he left for personal reasons. When Doug needed a month off for paternity leave, the chief called Nick to come back and fill in. He and Jordan resumed a romance they’d started many years before, and were married a few months later. Now, Nick worked some cases solo and filled in wherever needed when a marshal had to be absent.
Cocky and funny, Nick was one of Ben’s favorites. Jordan was spunky and a tough cookie. Doug was quieter and calmer by comparison, especially now that he was the father of three, including one cute baby girl.
Ben’s partner, Olivia, was the youngest of the group, but razor sharp and a quick thinker. Ben enjoyed working with her and tried to picture her as a little sister rather than the hot blonde she appeared to be to everyone else.
Jordan entered the office and saw Nick reading the file and snickering. “What’s that?”
Nick replied, “Ben’s new case. ‘Pomeroy’s Palace of Pleasure and Pain’. I practically begged Evan for this one, but he wouldn’t give it to me.”
“What?” She read over his shoulder. “No frigging way. That is too hilarious.” She glanced up. “Benny, you ready for this?”
Ben groaned and sank into his chair. “Not really. You and Doug want it? If you begged the chief I’m sure he’d reconsider.”
Generally unflappable until someone he cared about was in trouble, Doug looked up calmly from his computer. “Don’t even think about it. I’m more concerned about my wife than I am Mitzi Pomeroy.”
Jordan laughed and perched on the edge of her desk. “No, thanks.” She pointed at Nick. “This one isn’t touching it with a ten-foot pole, either. The lovely dominatrix is all yours, Benny.”
He reached up and snatched the file back from Nick. “Damn. You people are too good to me.”
Olivia approached their desks, her face blotched with tears.
Seeing her upset raised his hackles. “What’s wrong?”
“My father’s had a heart attack. He’s undergoing surgery now in Lenexa.” She grabbed a tissue and wiped her eyes.
Ben rose and gave her a quick hug. “I’m sorry. How’s your mom doing?”
“She’s holding on, but I should be there. The chief said no problem.”
“Of course. Are you okay to drive?”
She nodded and the others surrounded her to offer sympathies. Once she’d spoken with each of them, she turned back to Ben. “I’m just sorry about whatever that new case is.”
Ben waved a hand. “Don’t be. Not a problem. You sure you’re okay? I could drive you.”
Olivia sniffed. “No, I’ll be fine, but thanks. Thanks, everyone. I’ll keep you posted.” She gathered her things and headed out.
He dropped back into his seat. “That sucks.”
“Yeah.” Jordan nodded, and returned to her own desk. “She’s a good kid.”
The chief reappear
ed and paused by Ben. “I guess you heard the news.”
“I feel bad for her and her mom. She’s an only child, I know they’re tight.”
“Hopefully, her dad’ll be fine. Modern medicine works wonders these days. Maybe they caught it in time. Anyway, I said she could take as long as she needs.”
Nick approached and allowed a small grin. He held his hands out. “Well?”
Rhodes made a face. “Aw, shit. Jordan, what do you think?”
She didn’t even glance their way, just waved a hand. “Whatever. He’s like a dog at the end of his leash, anyway. Barks a lot and makes a big ruckus, but knows he can’t do any more than that.”
Nick moved behind her and pushed her long brown hair away from her neck so he could attack it as he made barking noises.
“God help me.” Rhodes turned to Ben. “You sure you want him?”
Ben chuckled. He envied the relationship Nick and Jordan had, probably more than the silver-haired chief who’d been married thirty-five years. “Sure. I’ve worked one of those retractable leashes before. I think I can handle it.”
“You got it, then. Mitzi Pomeroy will be here tomorrow. She’s been tucked away in Phoenix, but now the DA needs to start prepping her for the trial, so she’s coming back.”
Ben glanced up. “Why here? This says the murders were in Kansas City.”
“The defendants’ lawyers requested a change of venue and the case ended up here. I haven’t heard if Norman himself is trying the case or if he’s assigned an assistant DA. Guess we’ll find out tomorrow. They’re supposed to be here at ten. Phoenix Witsec will deliver Ms. Pomeroy to you, and you’ll take her from the meeting here to the safe house on Crosby. It should be ready to go. You’ll just need to find out what she needs in the way of supplies.”
“Got it.” Ben knew the drill. Trial prep could take anywhere from two weeks to a month, depending on the DA. He’d worked with James Norman before, the man was easy to get along with and a damn good attorney. Hopefully, this case wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Rhodes added in Nick’s direction, “I’d say I expect you to be on your best behavior, but I’d be talking to the wind.” He looked at Ben. “Do your best to keep him in line.”
Ben smiled. “We’ll be fine.” He glanced back at the case files. The report said Mitzi was forty-six, but in her picture she looked much younger. She was a knock-out, actually, with a Cindy Crawford-type beauty mark on her cheek and thick, dark hair. There was no mention of a husband. Had she really run a BDSM social club by herself? He didn’t know much about the places, but what he’d heard had him wondering what kind of a woman Mitzi was. Jordan had called her a ‘dominatrix’. Visions of black leather and whips came to mind. Probably from some dumb movie I watched once. He really didn’t know what she’d done in the club, and it was a moot point. That part of her life was over.
She was Mitzi Palmer now, a divorced housewife from Atlanta. On the outside at least, she’d never be the same woman she once was. The Witness Security Program took care of that. And like all the rest of the witnesses in the program, her life depended on her keeping the story believable, and making sure she followed Witsec’s rules. That’s where he and his fellow marshals came in.
Nick dropped into the chair next to Ben’s desk. “She’s a looker, eh?”
Ben wouldn’t take the bait, and shrugged. “Didn’t notice.”
Nick chuckled. “I wonder what she’ll be wearing? I’m picturing black Spandex with leather boots to match.”
Rolling his eyes, Ben shook his head. “In your dreams, maybe. She’s a housewife now, remember? That other life is behind her.”
“Yeah, well, old habits die hard. I can’t believe she just left all those clothes when she moved.”
“You have no idea what kind of clothes she wore. Get your mind out of the gutter, Nick,” Ben teased.
His new partner grinned. “Aw, but it’s so much fun down here. And everybody knows me!”
“No doubt. I hope you don’t plan to give Mrs. Palmer so much static tomorrow. After everything she’s been through and all.”
Nick stood and rubbed his hands. “I guess we’ll see.”
Ben sat back and folded his arms across his chest. “Jordan!”
* * *
Ben’s house was small, but had all the amenities a single person needed, including three bedrooms. The kitchen was divided by a bar from the dining room, along with a good sized living room, two bathrooms, and a single garage. He used one of the bedrooms as a combination office and weight room and saved the other for guests, which usually meant his parents on their monthly trek down from their home in Nebraska. They didn’t know exactly what he did for the US Marshal Service, but his mom worried anyway, and liked to keep tabs on him.
He’d been on some dangerous cases in his three years with the Topeka Witsec office, and had traveled from the east coast to the west. He’d been shot at in a Buffalo courthouse, and was actually injured in a Chicago incident. The gunshot wound to his shoulder had taken months to heal completely.
His witnesses had included some doozies, too. There’d been the transgendered drug dealer who’d taken advantage of his time in protection to switch from living as a man to a woman. Ben chuckled. Nick would have had a heyday with that one.
Witsec Marshals protected all different kinds of people, from the naïve and innocent to the guiltiest of the guilty. Many of them had been thrust into protection because of something they’d witnessed or that a family member had done. Others were offered immunity from their own crimes to testify against someone more powerful. Those cases tended to be trickier. Ben much preferred protecting the innocent witnesses over the guilty ones, but he kept that to himself. He strived to be fair and impartial, but some people were real asshats, and occasionally, that made it tough.
A thirty minute run usually cleared his head, but tonight his seemed to be full of memories. “Get out of the wayback machine, man.” He stripped out of his sweats and T-shirt and headed for the shower. He needed to cool off and unwind before bed. “Tomorrow should be an interesting day. I need some solid Z’s to face whatever comes my way.”
Pausing in front of the bathroom mirror, he rubbed his scratchy chin. The ‘three-day-beard-growth’ took about a week to perfect, then it was fine for another week before it grew too bushy. “Gonna be looking like Grizzly Adams soon.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to start a new case clean-shaven and made a quick decision. “I should be good for another day or two.” He ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair. Haircut soon. If he didn’t get one on his own, his mom would pull out the scissors the next time he went home.
Grinning as he thought of his mother and some of the really lousy haircuts she’d given him over the years, he turned on the shower handle and entered when the water was warm. He’d give her a call later. They’d talk about their jobs and the weather, a typical exchange, before she got around to her casual, ‘Are you seeing anyone?’ The answer was usually ‘no’. No one I want to phone home about.
He often thought he’d like to meet someone and settle down, but at twenty-eight he figured he still had plenty of time. When the right girl came along, he’d know it. She just hadn’t shown up yet.
And tomorrow he’d be meeting Mitzi Pomeroy, from Pomeroy’s Palace of Pleasure and Pain. The thought sent a shiver down his spine when it really shouldn’t have. He was secretly glad Nick would be there with him. Somehow, his being there made meeting her seem more tolerable. Nick was outspoken and easy-going. He could get along with anybody. Ben tended to be quieter, more reserved. Making conversation was sometimes tougher for him.
He fully expected finding things to talk about with Mitzi Pomeroy was going to be as uncomfortable as a tight pair of BVDs.
Ben closed his eyes and stuck his face under the water spray.
* * *
Addison Decker stood in front of her closet and sighed. What exactly does one wear to a meeting with a dominatrix? Of course the woman wasn’t living that lifestyle an
ymore, at least to Addie’s knowledge. For the past six months, she’d been a divorced housewife existing quietly in Atlanta. But Addie suspected old habits died hard. Mitzi would probably be wearing Victoria’s Secret lingerie under her clothes.
I could do that. Her lawyer’s wardrobe was bland and boring, consisting of pantsuits, jackets over skirts, conservative button-down shirts, and a few dresses. No one would ever know if she wore sexy skivvies under her uptight clothing.
Precisely the problem. No one would ever know. It’d been a solid year since anyone had seen her lingerie, let alone tried to get her out of it. In some ways, time had flown since Cole left. In other ways, it had dragged interminably.
She shook her head to clear Cole’s unwelcome image. He was gone, and she was better off because of it. But she still had the wardrobe dilemma. What exactly does one wear when meeting with a client for her first big case with the Shawnee County District Court? She’d been in Topeka for a few months, but hadn’t been assigned anything major, until now. This case was big. She’d be working closely with her boss, the District Attorney, of course. But James was letting her take the lead on this one.
Nervous energy sizzled through her as she chose an off-white linen pantsuit with a soft lavender blouse. She would never wear pastels in court, but they’d be fine for the trial prep. She nodded and got dressed.
Addie liked to wear her long hair down as much as possible, but for court days and business meetings she pulled it back into a ponytail or French braid. Today she opted for the braid, and then stood in front of the bathroom mirror applying the slightest touch of makeup. She wanted to look polished, but not overly made up, and was satisfied after a few minutes that she’d achieved the look.
