Re/Viewed

by Michele Zurlo

  Re/Viewed

  Doms of the FBI #6

  Michele Zurlo

  www.michelezurloauthor.com

  Doms of the FBI: Re/Viewed

  Copyright © March 2017 by Michele Zurlo

  ISBN: 978-1-942414-23-0

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission from the copyright owner and Lost Goddess Publishing LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Editor: Nicoline Tiernan

  Cover Artist: Anne Kay

  Published by Lost Goddess Publishing LLC

  www.michelezurloauthor.com

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. It is not meant for underage readers.

  __________

  DISCLAIMER: Education and training are necessary in order to learn safe BDSM practices. Lost Goddess Publishing LLC is not responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles. This is a work of fiction, and license has been taken with regard to BDSM practices.

  Reading Order

  Re/Bound

  Re/Paired

  Re/Claimed

  Re/Defined

  Re/Leased

  Re/Viewed

  Acknowledgements:

  I’d like to thank Sherry Dove for patiently beta reading this, Misha McDavid for troubleshooting issues, and Wife for her tireless—but not thankless—work as my editor and numbers lady.

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements:

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Michele Zurlo

  Lost Goddess Publishing

  Lost Goddess Publishing Titles

  The Doms of the FBI Series by Michele Zurlo

  The Dragon Kisses Series by Michele Zurlo

  The SAFE Security Series by Michele Zurlo

  Chapter One

  Wind rushed over her cheeks and roared through every fiber of her being. Every time she jumped from a plane proved better than the last, but this was going to eclipse even that experience. The roar of the burner had diminished, and the colorful envelope—the balloon itself—cruised on currents of air. Looking down at the squares demarcating patches of land, Tru thought about her best friend, Poppy. The two of them were so very different, and yet she had never felt closer to another human being. Poppy didn’t understand Tru’s need for thrill-seeking, but she accepted it.

  For her nineteenth birthday, Gram—the only other person to whom she was close—had taken her skydiving. At the time, neither of them had been sure she’d live to see her twentieth birthday. Not only had chemo been kicking her ass, but Tru had been too tired and depressed to care. Gram had stumbled upon a bucket list Tru had made as a response to her therapist’s suggestion that she make plans for the future, something she’d stopped doing. The list had been full of crazy ideas and experiences, none of which she would have considered if she’d thought she’d live for much longer.

  But sometimes life’s a bitch, and since Tru fully expected to die, she had no interest in fighting back. When Gram first suggested that she jump out of a plane, she hadn’t argued. If the chute didn’t open, then she wouldn’t have to endure the pain and sickness of cancer treatment anymore. The skydiving instructor had expected her to be afraid, but she hadn’t been. Jumping from the plane into a vast expanse of atmosphere had been liberating. Well, it had been liberating after she acclimated to the wall of wind that smacked her body the moment she leaped from the bay doors. It had sucked the air from her lungs.

  But after that, it had been wonderful. Tru’s apathy had turned into a thirst for adventure, and that’s what drove her to this day—mostly alone because Poppy didn’t have an adventurous bone in her body. Now both Poppy and Gram thought that Tru was adrift in her life, roaming from one experience to another without a plan or destination in mind.

  Adrift. There was another word Tru loved. It had a lofty, floating sound that made her envision nameless possibilities with momentary glimpses of rainbows and the occasional unicorn. Some might consider it a hopeless and aimless kind of word, an unintended journey through a vast sea of nothingness. Perhaps it was, but Tru saw the nothingness as the unknown, and the curious part of her nature loved accidental journeys and exploring the unfamiliar. Adrift was the perfect place to stay.

  “Nervous? You don’t have to jump if you don’t want to. This can just be a nice afternoon sailing over the countryside.” Elvis Zee, the young co-owner of the company that let people jump from their balloons, interrupted her thoughts.

  Tru threw him a grin. She’d first encountered Elvis when he’d commented on one of her posts, and that had led to a spirited back-and-forth about the merits of various beers. Eventually they’d moved their conversation to email, and they’d become friends. She felt very comfortable having him supervise her first dead-air jump. “Back out? Are you kidding me? I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks.” Once Tru latched onto an idea, she generally made it happen. Base jumping was in her future. This was one step closer to realizing that dream.

  “There’s nothing like it.” Elvis returned her grin. At 5’4, he was one of those shorter men who made up for his lack of height with an outgoing personality and a perpetually sunny disposition. He had a great smile, and his handsome face had been weathered by a lifetime spent outdoors. When Tru had first met him, she’d pegged him at around forty, but when she found out he was actually thirty-one, she was glad she hadn’t mentioned age at all in conversation. She hadn’t bothered to try to guess his business partner’s age. James, who also worshipped the outdoor life, wore his weather-beaten appearance proudly.

  Elvis motioned for her to turn around. He checked her equipment once again, tugging at the latches on her parachute to make sure it was securely fastened to her body. She’d packed this one herself.

  Tru wasn’t afraid of death. It happened to everyone eventually, and it was what you did with the moments between then and now that mattered. She climbed onto the edge of the basket. From this height, she knew she could get at least a ten count out of it, but the daredevil part of her wanted to push for longer. “I count twenty, and then I throw the pilot chute.”

  Well aware of her love of adventure, Elvis shook his head and chuckled. “Ten, fourteen if you want to push it, but don’t go longer than that. We’re not that high up. You have an altimeter, so don’t forget to use it. Don’t push past 250 feet.. If you’re panicking, it’s okay to pull it early, bett
er to be safe than a pancake. If you really open up in your batsuit, you’ll definitely get 10 seconds of flight time.” He pointed to a field in the distance. Two trucks, tiny like toys, were parked on the road next to it. “James is waiting for you there.”

  As she threw a leg over the edge, Tru winked at Elvis. “See you on the other side.” She jumped straight out, careful to keep her eyes on the horizon so that she didn’t become disoriented. It was different than skydiving from an airplane. The wall of air was missing, and she found that she loved the complete lack of sound. She spread her wings. Wind whistled past her ears, but it was the kind that enveloped her in silence and wrapped her in a singular cocoon. This mindless nothingness, these moments of pure delight, was the sweet bliss she spent her life chasing. She was gloriously adrift.

  Ten seconds might not seem like a lot of time, but with the absence of everything, it stretched to an eternity. Even the ground rising up to meet her took on a surreal quality. It was deaf and blind, shades of green and brown that meant nothing and everything all at once. It was breathless beauty, earthy and elemental in its stunning simplicity. And it was the void, that great, black nothingness where she stored her most precious parts. She lived a lifetime in those ten seconds, but a check of her altimeter showed that she’d run out of time.

  Reluctantly she pulled the pilot chute to open her parachute. With a tremendous whoosh, it deployed, jerking her from the freefall and delaying the moment of death. The ground still rushed at her, but it came slower, and it seemed suddenly real. As she fell, she used the handles to steer so that she didn’t end up in a tree or an awkward bush. Soon she felt her feet make contact, and she ran a few steps until the chute touched down as well.

  Her hands shook as she tried to unlatch the pack that had held the chute, and James was suddenly there, helping her.

  “How was it?” His smile told her that he already knew the answer.

  “Wonderful.” Her words sounded breathy but steady.

  James nodded. “When do you want to go again?”

  Tru laughed, a joyful, trembling noise. “This afternoon.”

  E + J Balloon Rides

  Ease of scheduling.....................5

  Friendliness of crew..................5

  The ride itself.............................5

  The jump..................................5+

  Five-thirty in the morning, and the dining room was still dark and deserted. Tru’s stomach grumbled in protest. Two weeks at home in Northport, Michigan meant that her stomach was not used to the Pacific Time zone schedule. She crept through the empty dining room of The Abiding Tide, the B&B where she was staying, snagged an apple and a banana from the fruit bowl, and headed outside. Pink and orange stained the sky to the east and glittered softly on the water to the west.

  The pieces she’d done on three bed-and-breakfasts a few weeks ago had been well received, and now Tru found herself on an extended tour that would take her up the coast of Northern California and into Oregon.

  This place was located near a picturesque cliff that overlooked a turbulent patch of the Pacific Ocean. Last night when she’d arrived, she’d spent time looking out over the wet beach, as they called it when the water met the cliff. Lacking sand and a real shore, in Tru’s mind, it didn’t qualify as a beach. This early in the morning, however, the tide was out, and a narrow strip of rocky, boulder-filled shore peeked out.

  Dressed in a warm sweatshirt to cut the chill of a Northern California summer, she made her way along a circuitous path that led down the cliff, stopping every few minutes to stare over the vast expanse of sea. It seemed to go on forever—immutable and secretive while promising newness and adventure. In the distance, calm swells rolled and flattened out. Closer to shore, the water lapped in some places and crashed in others. Tru began mentally composing her next blog post.

  The path terminated suddenly, and she was forced to be careful in the placement of her feet. The rocky shore wasn’t there for a pleasant stroll. She trespassed in this world at her own peril. She put the banana in her pocket and held the half-eaten apple in her mouth, and she used her hands to climb up and down rocks unevenly worn by the passage of time and elements. Pools of water, teeming with life, swirled here and there. She stopped to watch a small crab foam at the mouth to appear larger and threatening. Green anemones, snails, barnacles, and mussels clung to rocks, waiting for the tide to bring water, and with it, food.

  After a while she found a rock with a flat enough surface and nothing growing or crawling on enough of it to fit her butt. She found a toehold and rocketed to the top. The perch gave her a great view of the ocean and the cliff. For the first time that morning, she stopped looking at the ocean and concentrated on the details of the cliff. The black basalt of the rock face seemed so solid and strong, yet eons of wind and water had battered pits and personality into it. Feeling a bit of camaraderie, Tru smiled. Life had battered her, and she had the scars to prove it. Like this cliff, she hadn’t bowed under the relentless pressure.

  She snapped pictures of the cliff, the ocean view, and the temporarily exposed shoreline. Then she took some time for herself, munching her fruit while soaking in nature’s perfection. Today’s agenda included a visit to a vineyard. Tru wasn’t necessarily looking forward to it. If she’d seen one vineyard, she’d seen them all. Look at the grapes. Buy some wine.

  Tomorrow, though, that would be more fun. She’d booked a kayaking trip that explored caves near the shore. By this time, the sky had brightened considerably. Reluctantly she climbed down from the rock. A banana and an apple weren’t quite enough to satisfy the grumbling in her stomach. She hopped down and headed closer to the cliff so that she could explore a different area on her way back.

  Mostly it was rockier and offered a less hospitable path. She found herself clambering over even more precarious rock formations. That was okay. She’d long ago learned how to deal with curveballs, and this was nothing major. Still, it was a workout. She stopped on a long, flat spar of rock to catch her breath, and that’s when she noticed a break in the cliff face.

  Yeah, she was hungry and a little winded, but what the hell? Life was for living, and it had been years since she’d been spelunking. Though the opening was narrow, she squeezed in with no problem. The entrance proved deceptively small, but the cavern opened up once she stepped inside. Not much light penetrated, so she used the flashlight on her cell phone to look around. It was a good thing she’d sprung for the waterproof case. She wished her tennis shoes had the same protection as she splashed into one of the many puddles that dotted the floor. In no time, her feet were soaked and cold.

  Crabs scattered from the sudden intrusion, and she found more anemones and mussels clinging to the smooth walls. The rocky room had a high ceiling along the right side, but the left side dropped down sharply, leaving only two feet of clearance. If she were spelunking, she’d have to belly crawl through that part. The room wasn’t large, though it did seem to go back pretty far, and it stunk to high heaven—like the colony of harbor seals she’d passed on her way out of Monterey Bay. If she knew when the tide was scheduled to come in, she might have ventured down the corridor just to see how far it went. The smell was bound to diminish deeper in the cave. As it was, she walked the perimeter of the damp room, noting a lone purple anemone among the green.

  As she approached the side of the room where the ceiling dropped to two feet, she noticed that someone had painted a picture of an eye on the cave wall with what looked like sparkly red nail polish. The shock of graffiti in such a beautiful place struck her as tragic, and she took a deep breath to deal with the grief and anger. The smell arrested her ire, and she breathed through her mouth to keep from gagging.

  Before she turned away, she noticed several tentacles sticking out from the narrow crevice. That struck her as odd because she was under the impression that the water here was too cold for an octopus, and it didn’t look like a jellyfish. Judging from the smell, it might be dead. Frowning, she crouc
hed down for a closer look, and that’s when she realized those weren’t tentacles. They were a person’s fingers, and they were still attached to a hand.

  Dead people didn’t scare Tru. As someone who had survived two matches with leukemia, she’d lost a lot of friends to the disease. However, they’d all died in hospitals, hooked up to machines.

  She shone the light into the crevice, and the bloated face of a man greeted her. Though part of his head was bashed in, his lifeless eyes peered back in horror, and his mouth was open in a soundless scream. The horrible odor hadn’t been raunchy or rotting sea life. It had been the smell of a decaying man being feasted upon by bacteria, crabs, and other small scavengers. Suddenly the apple and banana sat heavily in her stomach. She turned away and was violently ill.

  Stumbling from the cave, she gulped fresh air. Tears burned her eyes, and she couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen. Reflexively she pressed the button that would speed-dial the one person in her life who was always there for her. She didn’t know how long it rang, but it felt like forever.

  “Gram.” The single word strangled in her throat, but she forced it out. She coughed to avoid throwing up again, and her breathing came through loud and shaky.

  “Tru—baby, calm down. Breathe.” The sound of her grandmother’s voice had been the light that had guided through her worst days. She responded immediately.

  “Gram, I found a body.” The hazy world came back into focus. “I mean, I’ve seen dead people before, but not like this.”

  If Gram was shocked, she hid it well. She kept her tone friendly and conversational. “What’s going on, Tru? Slow down and start at the beginning.”

  “It’s early here. I went for a walk on the beach, and I found a cave. There’s a dead guy in the cave. And, Gram, he looks like he’s been murdered.” She based her supposition on the fact that he looked like he’d been beaten to death.

  “Murdered? Have you called the police?” Now Gram’s pitch rose an octave. “How do you know he was murdered?”

  “Part of his head is caved in, like he’s been hit over the head with something.” She looked around, noting the prevalence of hard, basaltic rock. “Or maybe he slipped and fell, and the tide came in.”