Layla arched one blonde brow. “If you got yourself a switch, then your mystery man isn’t who I assumed it was. I can’t believe you’re keeping secrets from me. We’ve been friends our whole lives.”
While Amy merely looked curious, Layla was hurt. Being the same age and the daughters of close sisters, Katrina and Layla had been close since birth. When they were younger, they used to buy matching outfits so they could dress like twins. They’d even lobbied their parents to move to the same school district so they could take classes together. It hadn’t worked, but that hadn’t dampened their friendship.
Katrina bit her lip. “You have to promise to keep it a secret for a week.”
“A week?” Layla frowned.
“Just until Thursday night,” Darcy said. Her tight smile reminded Katrina of the deadline and just how serious Darcy was about it.
Reluctantly Katrina nodded. In her mind, she scheduled that evening as the night it would happen. She’d invite Mal and Darcy to dinner, where she and Keith would reveal the truth. “Thursday night. You have to promise.”
“Okay, I’ll keep it to myself until Thursday night. Don’t Amy and Darcy have to promise too?” Layla’s cutting tone was one she rarely used. For the first time, Katrina realized how difficult it was going to be to date someone who was so close with her family.
Katrina already had Darcy’s promise. She looked to Amy, who shrugged. “I can’t think of anyone I’d tell anyway.”
Taking a deep breath to delay the inevitable, Katrina sort of wished Darcy would do it for her. But then she shook off the thought. She needed to have the courage to do this herself. “Keith. I’m dating Keith, and Malcolm doesn’t know yet.”
Layla whistled. “It is who I thought it was. Damn, girl. You’re playing with fire. Keith dated a friend of a friend of mine. She said he was seriously intense, and not always in a good way. She had some less-than-flattering things to say about him.”
Katrina shrugged. Keith had admitted that he wasn’t in the habit of treating his submissives all that well. “He’s different with me.”
“I hope so, because Malcolm will kill him if he isn’t.” Layla sat back and considered something. “So, you’re not seriously thinking Keith will let you flog him?”
Actually, she did think he would let her. It might take some convincing, but she had the impression he would want her to have that skill. “Flog him, yes. Switch, no. I’m not sure how that’ll work, exactly. I just know it will.”
“I think I struck a nerve with Mal. He said ‘no’ to Layla and ‘practice on a pillow’ to Trina.” Darcy bit her lip as she stared at the text message on her phone. “Yes, I remember now. Scott spent a lot of time abusing our pillows. I don’t have any velour, but Malcolm has some suede throw pillows that go with his leather couch.”
Amy giggled. “You hate that couch. I’m surprised you don’t practice on it with a bull whip.”
Katrina and Keith had been with Malcolm when he’d purchased his black leather sectional. She remembered how he’d fallen immediately for it. Three weeks ago, Malcolm, M.J., and their father had remodeled the living room, putting in an eight-foot sliding glass door where there used to be a window. The maligned sofa dominated that room. Katrina thought it looked nice in there with the mahogany flooring and monster-sized television set. It was essentially a man cave. “What do you have against it?”
Darcy rolled her lips inward, obviously thinking of a way to make her criticism diplomatic. “It just isn’t my taste.”
“Darcy hates leather furniture.” Amy laughed at her sister’s discomfort. “She always has, but this is a little worse. Now the smell of leather makes her nauseated. She can’t go in that room at all anymore.”
Katrina’s heart went out to Darcy. “Does Mal know that?”
Darcy waved her hand dismissively, and Katrina had the feeling she was more uncomfortable airing her grievance than she was having the offending furniture in her house. “I’ll get my way eventually. Now, I say we head down to the dungeon. Layla and I will walk you two newbies through Floggers 101. Trina, can you grab the suede throws?”
Just to show Darcy that she wasn’t the kind of person who would choose sides in a disagreement between her brother and his fiancée, Katrina fetched three of the pillows from Malcolm’s man cave. Malcolm and Darcy’s dungeon was bright and airy, enjoying the benefits of three large daylight windows. The glass was heavily frosted to let in light and preserve privacy.
A black lacquered Saint Andrew’s cross filled one corner. Other equipment was folded up and pushed against the walls, so Katrina couldn’t get a real sense of the setup, which was fine with her. She didn’t need to see those kinds of details with regard to her brother.
Darcy led them to a wall that was covered in hanging floggers, canes, crops, and things Katrina didn’t know the names for. She thought they’d get right to work, but Layla and Darcy insisted on talking through the way a flogger was made and the mechanics of a swing.
“You want to look for rounded edges and tips. If they’re sharp, especially the tips, they could cut the skin. Unless you’re into blood play, avoid the cheaper floggers.” Layla pointed out the features as she talked.
It took Katrina a moment to figure out what she meant. The falls were flat, and the tips were cut on a diagonal. If she looked closely, she could see that the flat edges weren’t squared off; they were rounded. The tips did come to a point, but that point was rounded as well.
Amy shivered. “It still looks scary.”
“It’s not,” Katrina assured her. “The first time Keith flogged me, he nearly put me to sleep. He said he used a deerskin flogger.”
Darcy wrinkled her nose. “It can give a light sting. Malcolm has deerskin down here somewhere. He hasn’t figured out yet that I’d consider that thing a punishment. It wouldn’t do the trick for me. I prefer elk or rubber.”
“I like the deerskin,” Layla said. “You can get a lot of mileage out of it, and it’s good for beginners. Not everybody is in it for the pain.”
Amy looked confused, which was becoming a common expression on her face now that the conversation had turned firmly to impact play. “What else is there?”
Layla pushed her bangs back from her eyes. “Relaxation. Trina told you that it can feel like a massage, and there’s this endorphin rush that takes you to a place where stress doesn’t exist.” She handed the whip to Amy. “Touch it. Brush it over your arms and legs.”
Amy ran her hand down the length of the falls, and her eyes widened in surprise. “They’re soft.” She gazed at the flogger with wonder as she experimented with the sensations it caused on the insides of her wrists.
Katrina thought about the way Keith liked to start off gently. When he flogged her, he varied the intensity so that she didn’t know what to expect next. He took her beyond the ability to think. If it weren’t for him, she didn’t think she’d be able to deal with the stress of having a fucking stalker.
A tap on her arm brought her back to the present. “You okay?” Layla’s brow wrinkled with concern. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. Or is something else on your mind?”
Katrina didn’t want to bring up that topic. “I want to do this. But I want to learn more than just the flogger. I want to learn to use the cane and the crop and—” Because she didn’t know the name of it, she broke off and pointed to a very thick-handled whip that tapered to almost nothing.
Darcy, who had been hanging back while Layla took charge, laughed loudly. “You don’t waste time, do you?” She came forward and fingered the coiled length lovingly. “This is my absolute favorite thing in this room right now. But I will admit I don’t know how to use it. If you want training on that, you’ll have to buy one of your own, and you’ll have to ask Malcolm or Keith to train you.”
“Hey! You’re assuming I don’t know how to use a single-tail.” Layla put her hands on her hips in a show of mock umbrage.
Darcy shook her head, a small grin playing at the
corners of her mouth. “I know you don’t.” She turned her attention back to Katrina. “Trina, this is one of those things you work your way up to. Scott practiced with a single-tail for almost a year and still didn’t feel comfortable using it on me, so he never did. Start with the flogger. Practice with that, and next week we’ll have a lesson with the canes. Those are fun.”
Amy had stopped loving on the deerskin, and now she gaped at the canes. “They don’t look like fun. Don’t they cane people in Singapore for littering? People get scars and are permanently disfigured.”
“Or massages.” Layla ran her hand over one of the thicker canes. “The thin ones sting, but the thicker ones can feel like deep-tissue massages. Very sexy—if you know what you’re doing.”
“And those”—Amy pointed at the single-tail—“break open the skin. They used those in slave days for brutally mistreating people. People have died from injuries from those whips.”
Darcy exhaled loudly, evidence that her patience was wearing thin. “Amy, nobody should use any of this equipment without training and lots of practice. Yes, it can be dangerous. It can seriously hurt or injure a person. Why do you think Malcolm isn’t comfortable letting anyone else flog me? He knows Layla’s experienced, but he hasn’t seen her in action.”
The situation was getting tense. Katrina exchanged a look with Layla, but her cousin only mouthed, Later, and moved to stand between Darcy and Amy. “How about we try it out? Let’s set the pillows up as a horizontal target first. Then you can practice vertical.”
Katrina took the flogger Darcy handed her and followed Layla to the other side of the room. Her cousin explained the forward and backhand strokes, and then she showed them how to combine the moves for a figure eight. Katrina practiced on the pillow, watching the strike patterns in the suede fabric to make sure she was hitting where she was aiming. She found it easier to look at her target than to watch the falls trailing through the air, and she switched hands when her arm grew tired.
Amy wasn’t having an easy go of it. She missed the pillow completely several times, and she’d accidentally hit her bare leg. Layla suggested jeans for the next practice session.
“You’re good.” Darcy sat on what looked like a leather-clad sawhorse with wings. Now that she was on it, Katrina could see the bondage and sex options present in the design. “Really good. You have a natural talent.”
Katrina shrugged, but inside she beamed under the light of the praise. “It must run in the family.”
Darcy let loose a short laugh. “It must.” She nodded at her sister. Amy’s face was twisted with frustration. Layla stood behind her, trying to help correct her swing. “I’m just as bad as Amy. It took almost six months for me to be accurate enough to practice on a person. You’re ready today. Unfortunately you can’t use me.”
“That’s okay. Learning a skill—any skill—takes time. I can be patient.”
Holding out her hand for the flogger, Darcy smiled expectantly. “May I?”
It was her whip. Katrina handed it over, sorry to see it go.
“Some floggers are good for pinwheeling, which can deliver a variety of sensations from a light breeze to a constant sting.” Using her wrist, she spun the falls in a constant circle. “Turn around and take your shirt off. You can leave your bra on.”
This wasn’t the first time a woman had invited Katrina to take off her shirt. No, it was the way Darcy’s tone made the order gentle and authoritative that gave her pause. She’d definitely picked up a few Domme tricks over the years.
Katrina gestured to the spinning flogger. “Will it hurt?”
Darcy lifted a brow, and a mischievous light entered her eyes. “Do you want it to?”
She wanted to know the gamut of sensation for purely informational reasons. Part of her wanted to refuse, to ask Keith if he would introduce her to this different style because he was her Master. “You said you suck at this.”
“I said it took me a while to get the hang of it.” Darcy frowned and let the falls come to a halt. “You know what? You’re right to be wary. You don’t have permission. There’s nothing worse than disappointing your Master. Here.” She handed the flogger back to Katrina. “You’re wearing shorts. Get a good spin going, and bring it closer to your thigh. You’ll feel the breeze first, and then, when you actually hit skin, it starts as a biting sting. It progresses to a constant, broader sting. It’s always stingy because you’re not stimulating the muscles. Well, unless you have a heavier flogger and you’re closer to your target.”
Katrina twirled it in the air so that the spin was parallel to her body. Once she got a feel for it, she changed trajectory to bring it to a perpendicular orientation. As it came closer to her skin, she felt the breeze. Her skin tingled with electric anticipation. Just a smidge closer, and the small sting of the tips kissed her flesh. Closer still brought the sensation Darcy had described.
Without a doubt, she knew Keith was going to love this. She just didn’t know how to tell him she wanted to practice flogging on him.
Chapter Twelve
Stakeouts were notoriously boring. Hours of waiting in a small space with a partner might be followed by some kind of action. Even when they had their mark’s itinerary, things rarely happened according to plan. More often than not, nothing at all happened.
Tonight was that night.
Of all the people he’d whiled away stakeout hours with, Keith usually preferred Malcolm for company. Usually. This time there was a tension in the air that wouldn’t go away. Both of them were worried about Kat. She wasn’t alone, which removed some of the immediacy of the concern, but it didn’t erase it.
This would have been the perfect opportunity to talk to Malcolm about his relationship with Kat. Mal was essentially stuck with him. If he got mad, which was likely, he couldn’t leave. He’d have to stay and talk it out. But Kat wanted to break the news together. She thought her presence would have a calming effect on Malcolm’s temper, but Keith knew differently. If Mal was going to blow his top, he wasn’t going to censor anything for his sister’s ears, not where Keith was concerned.
“Jordan better beat the crap out of his snitch.” Malcolm adjusted the focus on one of the IR cameras mounted on the exterior of the van. “Because we got nothing tonight. I’m pretty sure all the bad guys are in bed, sleeping.”
“One hour left.” Keith recorded another entry on his log. “Then you can go home to Darcy.”
Malcolm shook his head. “We’re close to Trina’s. I want to go there and check out the surveillance. It worries me that nothing has happened in a week. Somebody broke into her house multiple times in the space of six days, and they stole her underwear. Only sick bastards do things like that.”
The crime scene report had come back. Dustin had slipped copies to both of them. They’d found evidence of semen in her drawer. He’d checked it against Keith’s DNA to rule him out. The weasel had ejaculated on her panties before stealing them. Perhaps he’d realized his mistake after he’d masturbated, and that was why he had stolen her underthings.
Keith only knew that if he got to the jackass first, the man was dead.
“How has she been holding up? My parents said you’ve been over there every night.” Malcolm furrowed his brow. “I know she wants to stay at her place. We can take turns. I’m willing to sleep over there every other night. This has to be putting a serious cramp in your social life.”
Striving for a neutral expression, Keith shook his head. “It’s fine. We’ve been alternating whose house we’re at.” He really didn’t want to get into the sleeping arrangements. Keith had a four-bedroom house, so it was reasonable for Mal to assume that Kat slept in one of the guest rooms. “Besides, if the Friedman brothers prove to be part of Snyder’s organization, then you need to stay close to Darcy.”
Though there had been no threats, Keith knew Malcolm wouldn’t take chances. The memory stick he’d recovered from Darcy’s dishwasher was still yielding helpful leads, albeit in a piecemeal fashion. They were findin
g that the documents on it were best when used in conjunction with other intelligence.
A key piece of information from one of Jordan Monaghan’s contacts had given them perspective on several puzzling documents. It seemed that Snyder hadn’t been the boss of the organization. He’d been high up in the hierarchy, but there were bigger fish to catch. If they could prove a link between the Friedmans and the Holbrook case, then the scope of the investigation would widen considerably, and they’d be able to use the evidence they had gathered in a more efficient fashion. To that end, Malcolm and Keith were stuck watching for a meeting that so far hadn’t happened, but it had pulled him away from Kat for a whole night.
“I know. That’s why I have Trina there. The girls can watch out for one another. It’s not an ideal situation, but it’s better than leaving any of them alone.” Malcolm tapped his thigh. “Trina’s keeping something from me. Every time I see her, she can’t quite meet my eyes. I think she feels guilty. I don’t want her to feel like this is her fault.”
Keith nodded. He knew that, in addition to everything else, Kat felt like she was a burden. “She’s doing okay. Not great. She’s trying to keep it together for us. I told her she didn’t have to do that, you know, that she can be angry or sad about it.”
Mal pressed his lips together, holding it in the same way Kat did.
Keith resisted the urge to chuckle over the similarity. “You can get pissed too. I’m pissed.”
“Really? Because bored and pissed look the same on you, so I couldn’t tell.”
In lieu of responding, he stared at Malcolm with his bored/pissed expression. “Attacking me won’t help. Dustin is working his ass off to catch the bastard. You and I are protecting her in the meantime.”
“Sorry.” Malcolm glanced at his cell. His jaw was dark with stubble, and he looked beat. “As time passes and nothing happens, I just get worried that we’re not going to close the case and she’ll be living with this specter always looming over her shoulder. It’s not like you can move in and protect her for the rest of her life.”
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