“Except for the kidnapping, it hasn’t been that bad. Bull hasn’t laid a hand on me.” Okay, that wasn’t true. He’d spanked her, and last night… Shaking the thought away, she sought to reassure Malcolm. “He’s not what you’d expect. He’s a Daddy Dom. He protects me.”
Malcolm’s dark brown brows shot toward his hairline. “Just because he’s calling himself a Daddy Dom doesn’t mean he’s like Jordan. Fuck, Brandy. I hate this. I can’t tell if you’re out of your mind or brilliant.”
She patted his cheek. “That’s always been your problem. Five hours. Avery. You and Liam work together to get me what I’m going to need.”
He showed no sign of loosening his grip. “Brandy, your parents and your brother—”
“Tell them I’m fine.” Reasoning she wasn’t going to get out of his grasp without hurting them both, she hugged him closer. “Mal, they invaded our country, our agency, and threatened our families and friends. I’m not going to stop until I’ve brought the whole fucking organization down. Tell everyone I’m fine, and I’m even better now that I have backup.”
She kissed his cheek and left the restroom.
Chapter 7
In the lobby, Bull waited. At a vending machine, Keith selected a candy bar. He glanced over dismissively as she emerged, but his body was positioned between her and Bull. If she gave the signal, he was ready to carry out a takedown operation.
Smiling brightly, she held out her hand to Bull. “I’m ready, Daddy.”
He threaded his fingers through hers and led her to the SUV. “You were crying, weren’t you?”
She wiped her cheeks, but they were dry. “A little bit.”
Once they were back on the freeway, Bull said, “It’s okay to cry, Firebrand. It’s okay to be sad that we’re going to part ways. And it’s okay to be happy about going home, getting your life back, and seeing your family and friends.”
“I don’t have family, not really.”
“Friends,” he amended.
“Friends come and go.”
He frowned. “Firebrand, I can only fix so much of what’s gone wrong in your life. You’re going to have to take care of the rest.”
She set a hand on his arm, establishing a physical connection. Now that she had a clear goal in mind, she knew what she needed to do in order to put her plan in motion. While she did like touching him, her motive was manipulation. “Daddy, what kind of a Dom are you?”
His frown remained, but it was pensive instead of disapproving. “That’s like asking what kind of man I am. You’ve lived with me for six weeks. You know the answer already.”
“I know you prize cleanliness, you like a sub who is into domestic service, you feel protective of people you perceive are helpless, and you kiss me like you mean it. But that doesn’t tell me what kind of Dom you think you are.” It also didn’t tell her what kind of a man he was. She saw his good side—the patient, gentle giant who cooked with her, slowed his runs to include her, enjoyed reading classics, and did laundry. She knew there was a completely different side he hid from her. He was either ashamed of the bad things he did, or it was part of the way he protected her. Or maybe he had a hero complex. Karter and Yoseff were afraid of him, which was a kind of grudging respect, and perhaps he needed to shine in her eyes as well.
He rubbed the back of his head with his left arm. She noted he was careful not to move his right arm and risk severing their point of contact. After a few moments, he sighed. “The domestic service was to keep you busy and out of trouble, and it also helped keep Karter and Yoseff from poking their nose into our arrangement. I mean, yeah, I like a clean and neat environment, but I don’t require one.”
“You got mad when I left a towel on the floor after I washed my hair.”
He did that rubbing thing again. Brandy picked up on the tell.
“You pretended to be mad?”
“I wasn’t mad.”
“You threatened to spank me.”
“I like spanking.”
“Daddy, you’re stalling, and you’re changing the subject.”
“You asked what kind of Dom I am. I’m the kind who likes to spank. Whether it’s for discipline, punishment, or part of a scene, I like to spank. Hand, paddle, belt—it’s all fun for me.”
It was a good thing the FBI had trained her in interrogation techniques. By the end of the conversation, she would have an answer to her question, even if it came by indirect means. She let him talk. Eventually he’d circle back to her point.
“Still doesn’t explain why you seemed angry and threatened to spank me—unless you were hoping doing so would get me all hot and bothered so I’d throw myself at you.” Though he hadn’t reacted well when she’d thrown herself at him, she couldn’t forget what it was like when he’d lost himself in kissing her.
The glance he shot at her communicated exactly how much he’d like to turn her over his knee and spank her right now.
“Are you getting all hot and bothered just thinking about spanking me?” She followed up with a diabolical giggle.
He exhaled hard. “I always knew you had a brat inside. You did a good job of keeping her on a leash at Redemption Center, which is great because I only came home to find you’d been flogged the one time. If you’d let this side out all the time, I would have had to take you with me or risk coming back to find you permanently staked to the flogging pole.”
“Would you prefer if you were the one keeping me on a leash?” Having the time of her life, she let loose with that evil laugh again. Verbal sparring had always been high on her list of turn-ons.
“Fuck. Firebrand, I was mad at myself. When I yelled at you, I was trying to talk some sense into myself. You’d become comfortable around me. You let down your guard. I really liked the idea of you letting me in, but at the same time—that place is dangerous. It’s dangerous for someone who wants to be there, and it’s downright perilous for someone who didn’t choose it.”
She stared, her brain mentally filling in the blanks, but her Special Agent training wouldn’t let her supply them for him. He had to say the words. “You were angry with yourself because you were starting to let me in?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed his head again. “I liked you. I liked having you around. I liked spending time with you. I liked looking at you. I liked when you got on your knees and called me Daddy. I liked the way you made me feel when you smiled at me. I liked coming home to you. But you were making me forget why I was there. You were distracting me from my mission.”
“What mission?” She infused the question with as much bafflement as she could muster. He’d never once discussed the beliefs that led him to join The Eye or talked about a mission with her. She’d heard plenty of rhetoric from the regular meetings Yoseff or Karter held. They mostly stuck to demonizing the wealthy, but she recognized the White Nationalist hate speech that filtered into the sermons. The sermons used different speech when the audience was filled with mostly black and brown people, playing up the illegal immigration angle and the competition for jobs. They played on economic insecurities, turning them into hatred for anyone else who might want to try to start over in this country.
Brandy didn’t know Bull’s ancestry, but she guessed his genetic makeup included Central or South American, and he was at least half African or African-American. She’d never once heard him repeat any of the rhetoric she heard in the sermons she had to attend whether he was home or away on a mission.
He pressed his lips together.
“Come on, Daddy. I deserve to know.”
“It’s not about what you deserve, Firebrand. It’s about making sure you don’t walk away with knowledge that could get you killed. I’ve kept you in the dark for a reason.”
“Because you care about me.” She said it softly, to drive home an important point that might give him a reason to let her remain with him.
“Yes.” His voice was low, choked with emotion. “I care about you. I haven’t cared about anyone in a very long time.”
; That hinted at how his path might have led him to join such an insidious organization. She let her hand slide away from his arm and lowered her gaze. Keeping her tone soft and subservient, she appealed to him again. “Then tell me what kind of a Dom you are. Let me dream about what I’ll be missing.”
He glanced over, his resolve melting in the face of her submission. “I don’t quite know how to tell you what you want to know. The kind of Dom I’d be with you would be something we both agreed on. So far, I’ve imposed necessary restrictions on you. In a perfect world, in circumstances where we both chose to be together, some things would be very different and some things, I would hope, would be the same.”
“What do you hope would be the same?”
“The way we spent our time together.”
“You want to cook and clean with me?”
“That’s what couples do, Firebrand, though I’d turn cooking mostly over to you. Your skills are far superior to mine.”
She preened under his praise.
He laughed. “I’d still run with you a couple times every week. I don’t mind your slow pace so much.”
Her pace was plenty fast. She scoffed at his claim. “I could run by myself the other days.”
That sobered him. “In a perfect world, yes. If we lived where I didn’t have to watch over you and worry when you were out of my sight, I’d let you go for solo runs.”
“And what would be different?”
“There would be discipline. Regular spankings.” He gave her a bit of side-eye as he added, “And sex.”
She laughed at his coyness.
“There it is. I love when you laugh like that.”
“Yeah? Tell me about the sex. What does sex with Daddy look like?”
“I’ve never videotaped myself, so I don’t know, but I expect it’s spectacular.”
Enjoying this playful side of him, she laughed again.
“You should really ask about the discipline.”
Brandy shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t think I want to know all the reasons you’d find to spank me.”
“I don’t need reasons. I’d spank you because I want to spank you. Discipline is different.”
She pursed her lips, thinking about the single spanking he’d delivered. “When you spanked me before, did you enjoy it?”
“No, Firebrand, not at all. I didn’t want to spank you, but I couldn’t find another way to get you to behave. I had to leave, and I had no idea what kind of trouble you’d get into if you didn’t fall into line. Yoseff was looking for any reason to rape you. Karter wanted to watch you die slowly. Both of them wanted to hurt you to get at me. They resented me because the big bosses found me more useful than them. They wanted to tear me down, but they knew they couldn’t do anything to me directly. It was yet another reason I didn’t want a slave.”
His admission chilled her in more ways than he knew. She pulled her jacket tighter around her torso.
“Discipline,” he announced, changing the subject. “Is what I’d administer when you misbehave while in little headspace.”
Brandy frowned. “You think I’d misbehave?”
“I know you would. I watched how hard you worked to be good. Without life and death hanging over you, you’d let your brat side off the leash. And yes—I’d love to be the one holding your leash, little one.”
She snorted. “I knew it.”
“Spanking is an adult activity, so when you’re in little headspace, discipline would be more traditional. If you colored on the walls, I’d make you scrub them. If you talked back, you might have to stand in a corner—it would depend on what you said. I might take away privileges, like dessert, or ground you from your phone.”
Brandy couldn’t see herself coloring on the walls. “What if I talk back and I’m not in little headspace?”
“Spanking, Firebrand. You got bratty a little while ago. For that, you’d earn a spanking. Sometimes I might make you pick the implement; other times, I would.”
“I’ve never been spanked. I mean, not really, except when you did it that one time.”
He chuckled. “I can tell.”
“Seriously, though—what if I don’t identify as a little? Would that be a deal-breaker?”
Bull rubbed his head.
“Daddy?”
“How about you stop calling me that, okay?”
“I don’t know your real name, but I do know you don’t really like when I call you Bull.”
He pressed his lips together. “The less you know, Firebrand. I’m not asking for your name, either.”
“Then I’ll call you Daddy until you abandon me at a rest stop.”
“Fuck, Firebrand. Don’t say it like that. I’m not abandoning you. I’m setting you free.”
“I guess that’s a matter of perspective.”
Sighing, he gestured in her direction. “It wouldn’t be a deal-breaker. You’re still a brat, and I like myself a good, mouthy brat. Lots of opportunity for spanking.”
“But not discipline.”
“Oh, I’d work that in somewhere.” He warmed to the subject, describing orgasm denial, butt plugs, vaginal exams, and electrical play.
Brandy listened to scenarios and kinks her friends and co-workers had talked about for years, but for the first time she found the topic interesting.
“Of course we’d negotiate everything first. Trust is the most important element in any relationship.”
Absorbed by imagining everything he described and in blending it with what she already knew about his caretaker nature, she was a little disappointed that he’d come to a close. She could listen to him talk for hours.
Taking note of how far they’d traveled, she pulled her mind away from the erotic and pleasant ideas he’d set free to wander in her imagination, she concentrated on working her target.
“What about snuggling?”
“What about it?”
“Last night, I fell asleep in your arms. I can’t recall the last time I slept so deeply.”
“I like to snuggle,” he admitted. “Probably more than you’re used to. If I had free reign to touch you, I’d indulge frequently.”
“Daddy?”
“What?”
“I don’t want you to leave me at the rest stop. I want to stay with you.”
Before she finished asking, he was already shaking his head. “That’s no kind of life for you.”
“But I’d be with you. I want to be with you.”
“This isn’t open for discussion.”
“Please, Daddy?”
“No. You’re going back to your family and friends. For fuck’s sake, I don’t even know if you’re married.”
“I’m single,” she assured him. “My last serious relationship ended about four years ago. Never been married. No kids. No real family. I grew up in foster care, and then I—”
“Stop.” He clamped his hand over her mouth. “The less I know, the safer it is for you.”
Slowly he eased his hand away, and he ran his knuckle down her cheek in a tender caress.
Brandy wasted no time pressing her point. “Daddy, please—I need you. I want to be with you. I want all the things you talked about. I promise I’ll be good. I’ll do what you say, just like I did at Redemption Center, and I’ll take care of your apartment and everything. I’ll keep my mouth shut around other people, and I’ll only mouth off to you in private, okay? But this time, I’ll be with you because I want to and not because we’re being forced to be together—and you won’t have to feel guilty when you kiss me.”
He was silent for a long time, and she let him have this vital time to think it over. After all, he was arguing with himself, not with her.
When he squared his shoulders, she figured the discussion wasn’t going her way, and he was steeling himself to deliver his verdict.
“I liked kneeling for you. I liked the way your eyes lit when you saw me there, on my knees, waiting to serve you. I liked when you touched my hair, and I loved when you touched my cheek as
you’d greet me. I liked kissing you and being in your arms. I liked the way you touched me and made me have an orgasm. I liked how you came on my stomach. I like when you smile at me. You don’t smile a lot, but you always do when you see me. You have the sexiest dimple on your cheek that peeks out when you smile at me.”
His breathing hitched. “Firebrand, I’m mixed up in some bad business. There isn’t a happy ending in my future. As much as I’d love to keep you by my side, I’m not going to take you down with me.”
Brandy realized how deeply his protective instincts ran. She needed to change tactics, to make him think returning to her life would be worse than throwing in her lot with an international crime organization.
“Daddy, I’m not blind or clueless. I see the blood on your clothes, and I’ve seen enough fights to know what happened to the other guy. I grew up in the system—fending off perverts and people who let me have a bed because they got a check from the state every month—and I’ve been on my own since I turned eighteen three months before I could graduate from high school.”
“Firebrand, I told you—”
He tried to put a hand over her mouth, but she blocked his move and leaned away from him. Channeling the spirit of the character she’d created more than a decade before, she threw herself into her sob story. “I don’t care if you don’t want to hear it. You’re going to listen because I need to say it. You keep saying I got something to go home to, but I know there’s no home waiting for me. I was renting a trailer, and I was already behind in my rent. I know all my stuff’s been thrown out. It’s about a fifty-fifty if anyone even reported that I was missing. I’d lost my job—I worked at a place that did cheap haircuts, but I got fired because I was late all the time. I didn’t have a car, and sometimes the busses didn’t run on schedule, so I couldn’t help it. I was freezing my ass off, waiting for public transportation, while it came on whatever schedule it felt like coming on. When I was kidnapped, I was trying to find cheap Christmas stuff for one of my foster sisters and maybe something for her step-daughter. We were supposed to get together for drinks, but I wasn’t sure because her last text said her kid was sick.”
Re/Deemed (Doms of the FBI Book 8) Page 8
