His teal eyes flashed.
“That is your concern? Appearances?” he demanded, tossing his napkin from his lap to the table before him. He rose stiffly and cast Elise an angry look.
“It must be nice that your major concern in life is when your daughters are going to stop by without calling first,” he growled. “I wish I had such a luxury.”
Instantly he could see her expression change to one of contrition.
“But Drake, you must admit that the chances of finding the boys after such a long while is… “she trailed off, her face plaintive but Drake did not want to hear it as he began to pace around the dining room, his arms folded across his barrel chest.
“I have to admit nothing! They are out there somewhere, dead or alive and I need to know where.”
He was beginning to feel like a broken record, explaining the same idea to her over and over but Elise seemed to need constant reminding.
He loathed that he was perpetually using guilt as a factor to enlist her help but she did not seem to respond to anything else.
Suddenly he paused, staring at her pensively.
There was one thing he had yet to try.
“What?” Elise demanded, her cobalt eyes narrowing. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Forgive me for this, Shirley, he thought, sliding closer to her. I am doing this for our sons.
“What happened to us?” he asked. “Once, we were as close as two people could be and now you look at me with hate and fear. How did this happen?”
Elise’s mouth parted but no words escaped as she gazed at him in disbelief.
“You can blame it on Vance or Shirley but what we had was so unique, Elise. How did we allow it to slip away?”
Slowly, he lowered himself into a chair, reaching for her hands. She did not move to meet him but she did not pull away and Drake tried to contain his relief.
“It was wrong. We loved them too much to hurt them,” Elise breathed. “That was what happened.”
“And why do you look at me with such disdain now? Do you really blame me for Vance’s death or did you just need to lash out at someone?”
She lowered her eyes but Drake leaned forward, cupping her chin in his fingers.
“I don’t hate you,” she murmured. “I think I’ve just always waited for you to come back for me.”
“Well here I am,” he told her hoarsely. “Look at me.”
Their gazes locked and in seconds, Elise threw herself into his arms, her mouth eagerly tasting his.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” she breathed as his mouth found its way down her throat, his hands embracing her back. “I would sit by the window waiting for you.”
“I missed you too,” he whispered, his palms slipping her dress around her shoulders to expose the skin for his mouth to explore.
She was every bit as lovely as he remembered her, with her soft, supple, skin and breathy sighs.
In spite of himself, Drake felt himself growing hard as his tongue crossed the path of her bosom, exposing her breasts for him to suck.
“I have longed for you,” she cried, grasping his full head of salt and pepper hair in her hands, her back arching in the armed chair.
Drake sat back, scooping his arms around her to raise her from her spot.
She gasped aloud as Drake lay her on the medieval style dining room table, yanking her dress fully down from her lean, firm body.
Instantly, he was upon her, tasting the succulence of her flesh, inhaling her sweetness as he lowered his face between her thighs.
He felt her tense.
“Drake!” she moaned, struggling to sit up but he had already delved into her core, lapping relentlessly at her slit.
Elise cried out and he brought her center closer to his mouth, suckling on her juice as she began to spurt forward in orgasm.
He knew he had to have her and before she had finished, his hand released his belt, flipping Elise onto her stomach.
“Oh my God,” she groaned as he grunted, entering her roughly. He had her pinned to the gleaming wood of the table but each plunge he took shook the legs dramatically.
With each thrust, Elise’s cries grew louder, pushing him to the brink as he drove home all his frustrations and years of pent up passions into his one-time lover, filling her with his engorged member.
Harder he jabbed, feeling his sack tighten as it slapped against her firm rear.
Beneath him, Elise shuddered and Drake could hold out no longer, his release flowing forth in shocking streams inside her.
Together they mewled, their voices as intertwined as the nectar of their bodies until neither could expel another sound nor drop.
Panting, they lay, each trying to regain the strength to face the seemingly insurmountable task of moving.
“Oh, Drake! You are back,” Elise whispered as he withdrew from her, pulling up his pants. “I can’t believe that you’re finally back.”
He smiled at her, dismissing the feeling of shame which tickled his bones.
We are two consenting adults, he reminded himself. And I will do whatever I must do to find them. If I need to seduce my second-in-command’s widow, so be it. It is for the greater good.
But as Elise stared at him with naked adoration, he wondered if he wasn’t crossing a line.
There are no lines. Not when Oculus is involved and my sons are still at large.
Chapter Four
Amarillo, Texas
Xave stood staring at the corpse on the floor of the red room, his blood seeping into the matte black floor as Sasha paced about nervously, wringing her hands in despair.
“I hate this guy,” she muttered, more to herself than the manager but Xave heard her clearly. “I was going to tell Tristan to cancel my appointment with him.”
“Is that why you decided to murder him?” he asked dryly even though his heart was hammering in his chest. “It would have been easier to cancel.”
“I didn’t murder him!” Sasha screeched and Xave shot her a scathing look.
“Keep your voice down,” he hissed. “We don’t need to drag anyone else into your mess. Do you have any idea who this guy is?”
She looked at him, her dark eyes wide with terror as she nodded.
“Yes,” she breathed. “I knew something like this would happen but he always pushes it. I have begged him not to go so far but he never stops, Xave! He doesn’t acknowledge the safe word! He says it’s what he pays for!”
“He paid you to kill him?” Xavier asked sarcastically.
“No!” Sasha’s face was grey. “He always whips me to the point of bleeding! I told him that he was going too far but he never listens…and I thought he was going to kill me this time. I have never seen him look so intense. I was scared to death!”
He glanced at the terrified girl and saw that mixed with the basketball player’s blood was her own.
“What did you do?”
Sasha took a deep, shuddering breath.
“I screamed at him to stop it! I had my hands over my face to protect myself but he just laughed at me, Xave! I had no way to stop him except…”
She stopped talking and he stared at her expectantly.
“What did you do, Sasha?” he snapped. “Just spit it out.”
“I took off my stiletto and stabbed him with it.”
Ah, that makes sense, Xave thought, staring at the gaping hole in Clark Jameson’s face. Her heel went through his eye.
He did not admit that he was secretly impressed by her defenses.
Some of these assholes just think they can do whatever they want. Good for her for standing up for herself.
He realized of course that meant that they had a corpse with which to contend.
“What are we going to do?” Sasha sobbed.
“What can we do?” Xave replied lazily. “We have to call the cops.”
He didn’t mean a word of what he said but he savored the look of shock on Sasha’s face.
“No!” s
he cried. “I can’t go to jail!”
“It was self-defense,” Xave said conversationally, looking around the red room.
Sasha stared at him, aghast.
“No one will believe that, Xave!” she shrieked. “Everyone in here will be in trouble! They will shut this place down and I’ll go to jail! Please! Help me!”
Sasha was not telling him anything he didn’t already know.
She would be demonized despite the fact that Clark Jameson didn’t know how to play fair. As far as anyone else would see it, she deserved it for putting herself at risk.
Blood had sprayed against the mirrors and whips adorning the walls. The clean up was going to be a wild task but that was the least of their problems.
He had to get rid of the body.
“Go get some cleaning supplies and make sure that no one sees you,” he sighed. Sasha looked at him with hopeful eyes.
“You’re not going to call the cops?” she cried.
“Not if you do exactly as I tell you,” Xave grunted. “Do I look like I want to go to prison because you didn’t have the foresight to blacklist a client?”
“What are you going to do with him?” she breathed, ignoring his jibe. “How are you going to get him out of here without anyone seeing?”
“Are you going to make me change my mind about calling the cops, Sasha or are you going to do as you’re told?”
She did not argue again, hurrying toward the leather-bound door.
Thank God these rooms are sound proof. He must have screamed like a hyena, Xavier thought, watching Sasha peer into the dimly lit hall before slipping away to obey his request.
As the door closed, Xave reached for the dead basketball player, pulling him toward the back door.
Each private room had a separate exit to the outside so that no client would encounter another as they entered.
The red room was no exception and Xave propped the back door open, peering into the alleyway.
He grimaced as he saw a pair of homeless men rifling through the dumpsters. Closing the door, he turned back to wait for Sasha.
“Please tell me you drove here,” he said and she nodded. “Good. Give me your keys and tell me where you parked.”
“No! You can’t put him in my car!” she squealed.
Xave was losing his sense of humor and he stared at her furiously.
“I could toss him in the alleyway, sweetheart but I would wager the first place the police will look when they find his mutilated corpse is here. Try explaining that it was self-defense then. Use your brain, Sasha and give me your fucking keys.”
“How the hell are you going to take him out of here unnoticed, Xave?”
“Okay, you need to stop questioning me before I change my mind. Get me your goddamned keys and don’t make me ask you again.”
His nerves were growing raw and for the first time since he could remember, he was worried.
Sasha turned and dug her purse out of a hidden closet behind one of the rectangular panels of glass, throwing her keys at him without a word.
“Where is your car?” he asked.
“The lot on South Lakeside,” she muttered, keeping her eyes averted. “It’s the white Mercedes SL Roadster.”
Xave wondered if the athlete would fit in the trunk of a car that size.
I guess I’ll find out.
“Go have a shower and mind the front in case any of the other girls come looking for me. Tell them I’m indisposed.”
“I can’t – “the look in his eyes seemed to freeze her tongue and she spun to hurry from the room again.
Xave threw open the back door and saw that the hobo duo had moved further down the alley toward the street.
I’ll move the car here…
Suddenly he remembered something; there were cameras in the alleyway, placed by Lady Katrine itself.
Dammit!
Xave took a deep breath and hurried out the back door toward the street, keeping his head down to ensure he wasn’t recognized.
He located Sasha’s car in minutes and drove it toward the alley but as he approached, he took a deep breath to steady his trembling hands.
It will take me too long to pull the car in here, move the body and get out of here undetected. I can’t hold it off that long.
He knew he didn’t have a choice.
I’ll bring the car to the back and go from there.
He prayed that he would be afforded enough of an opportunity to do what he had to do but he did not have a lot of faith in himself at that moment.
He was aware that the clock was ticking. The longer he sat at the end of the alleyway, debating his next move, the more likely it would be that one of the other girls or clients would come searching for him. He could not leave the front door of Lady Katrine’s locked all night, not when appointments were expected.
No, he had to act and act fast.
Taking a deep breath, he jammed the car in reverse and screeched to a stop at the back of the red room.
Popping the trunk, he inhaled sharply and concentrated, waiting for the telltale breeze to flow over his face.
As it passed, he leapt from the vehicle, dragging Clark Jameson into the laneway where he jammed the body in the trunk.
A bird tweeted over his head and Xave knew the moment had passed.
Maybe I can do it again.
He closed his eyes, willing time to freeze once more but he could still hear traffic as he listened.
If he had succeeded, he had managed to hide the act of moving the body from the dungeon to the car but he had not hidden the car from the alley.
Grunting, he retreated into the driver’s side to park the car back at the lot.
I’ll deal with Jameson after we close. I will have to make sure no one ever finds the body. It's the only sure-fire way to cover our tracks.
He made his way back to the red room and realized with horror that there was blood everywhere.
Sasha has her work cut out for her tonight.
He slammed the door to the room and leaned heavily against the door, trying to still his racing pulse but he was suddenly somewhere else, somewhere he didn’t recognize.
Men were racing into the room, dressed in black. He heard screaming and as he looked to his left, he saw his identical twin shrieking in terror.
Gunshots rang out and he was thrown to the ground as the group closed in on him. A table flipped and a man scooped him from a booster seat.
He stared at an older boy on his left and they exchanged a primitive message from the deepest recesses of their minds; they must be stopped.
As if in slow motion, the boys turned to watch the swarm of men.
The group froze as time physically stopped and Xave watched in horrified awe as their heads exploded one by one.
“Xave!”
He jumped and looked at Sasha.
“What?”
“Is it done?” she whispered. “Did you get rid of him?”
“You have to clean up this mess,” he told her. “The alleyway too. And work fast; the blood is drying.”
He sauntered past her and she put a hand on his arm to stop him.
“You need to wash up,” she told him, gesturing at his red stained hands.
Xave glanced at his palms and saw she was right.
Will this never end? He wondered, gritting his teeth.
“There are clients at the door,” Sasha told him worriedly. “What should I do?”
“I’ll deal with it,” he told her. “Just clean up this mess and go home. The car stays with me.”
She bit on her lower lip to keep from protesting.
“Okay,” she agreed.
As he reached the door, she called out to him.
“Xave?”
He turned to stare at her.
“Thank you,” she breathed. “I – thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he replied grimly. “Because if the shit hits the fan, you bet your ass I will throw you under the bus so fast, your pretty litt
le head will spin.”
And he meant it.
After all, he didn’t owe anything to anyone.
A stiletto, Jesus Christ, he thought with mild disgust but he couldn’t deny that he was just a tiny bit proud that Sasha had stood up for herself.
Four a.m. was bittersweet and when Xave locked the doors, ensuring that all the girls had gone home for the night, he double checked the red room.
To his surprise, Sasha had done a remarkable job cleaning up the chaos she had created.
I hope she’s smart enough to burn the evidence. I should have told her.
It was something he could remind her to do in the morning. She was probably high as a kite, trying to forget the events of the evening.
And if Xave had thought it through properly, Clark Jameson would never be found.
He’ll just be another star athlete to end up on Dateline, enveloped in speculation and intrigue.
Xave got in the car and headed for Interstate 27 out of Amarillo.
As he drove, a strange haze fell over him as if he had detached from his body and was studying himself from the roof of the small car.
An image of Clark Jameson’s lifeless body played in his mind and his stomach flipped dangerously.
People die all the time, he reasoned with himself. It’s not a big deal. It was an accident but it wouldn’t be seen that way. Sasha would be painted as some villainous hooker who murdered a superstar. Jameson would be an innocent victim and we would be deemed scum of the earth. No, you’re doing the right thing. There is no reason to feel guilty.
But there was no amount of justification that could shake the eerie sensation which driving around with a dead body caused him.
For a moment, he found delicious irony to the fact that people had always described him as being so dark, but when it came down to it, he felt tarnished by this dark reality that he found himself in.
I’m going to dump him in Lake Tanglewood. He won’t be found for years if I weigh him down properly. And I am not tarnished.
Bile threatened to spring from his mouth as if to contradict him but he gulped it back, gritting his teeth.
Abruptly, a picture of men swarming him with guns popped into his mind and he felt a cold sweat break out over his forehead. He didn’t know where the image had come from, but it felt an awful lot like a memory.
Hard Time: A thief and a con artist - who will come out on top? (Hard Series Book 2) Page 4
