The four of them rushed into the hall and saw Emmy holding Diane back from Cece, and Morgan guiding Cece away from Diane. Cece had her middle finger fully extended as she walked away from the screaming maniacal woman now being shoved into the elevator.
“This has been a fine fucking morning,” Morgan snapped at the men in the hallway. She pointed to the board room and motioned them all back inside. Killian was quietly impressed with her. He’d never met a woman who didn’t put up with shit the way Morgan did, who wasn’t in the lifestyle.
They were all seated around the table a minute later, and the papers were tossed in the middle. “First. Why was Tits McGee here?”
“She threatened to see me go down like Everett,” Killian offered up. “We were exploring the possibility of her knowing more than she let on. She doesn’t, but she has three precious letters we need to see. Apparently from the murderer.”
Paul shook his head. “Should be interesting. Emmy was taking her home to meet up with Dunham and Garabaldi to get them so we can run some analysis on them.”
“More letters. Interesting that this guy is loquacious—”
“Guy?” Cece asked.
“Diane was screaming about a him,” Robert explained.
Cece looked excited. “Did you—”
Paul brought his hand down. “No. We know nothing more than the ranting and raving of someone who has some kind of vendetta against several people in this room. So until we see those letters, we have to assume she’s just out to get you. And Killian. And probably nine other people.”
She slumped back in the chair. Killian hated the way she looked so defeated.
Pointing to the papers she had tossed on the table, Morgan got them back on track. “So, our standing at this point is that the police are holding off on the charges until they can gather more evidence. For or against. Right now, according to these records, we’re boned. It shows an arm and disarm at two different points during the night with plenty of time to get to the hotel, murder Saundra, and make it back. I don’t know who the ever loving fuck would ever intentionally arm and disarm their alarm on the way to a murder, but there you have it.”
“Unless Stat finds something or we find John Smith, Cece is going to trial.”
“At the very least, grand jury.” Morgan sat back in the chair. “Franz, please tell me you have a lead on this Smith guy?”
Laced with regret, Franz shook his head no. “Can’t find a damn thing. Anywhere. I wish I could.”
Cece leaned forward this time and folded her arms. “I had another idea. Isn’t it possible that John Smith is the murderer? It’s not really something that I want to consider, but I have to. I mean, there has been neither hide nor hair of the man since the night of Everett’s murder. I can’t think of a way that he could be in nearly two places at once, but at this point, I’m willing to try anything. I want this over. And I’m trying to come up with new ideas.”
Paul’s and Robert’s brows creased. “Well,” Robert finally spoke. “We could look into that possibility. I don’t know what good it will do us to prove a nameless, faceless man was the murderer, but we would be able to clear at least Cece.”
“So, let me get this straight,” Killian asked. “In order for all of this to go away, you need to prove that Cece wasn’t alone when Everett was killed. Someone needs to have seen her a reasonable distance away from the hotel at the time when there was no way that she could have made it back there and killed him. I’m getting that right?”
“Perfect.”
“But now, we’re going to try and frame the same guy?”
“Not frame!” Cece said. “Just see if it could have been him. I don’t want him to be guilty of anything but skipping out on me after this. But at some point I have to start thinking about not protecting someone who doesn’t want to come forward to prove that I’m innocent of this. Sometimes, that means thinking that they’re guilty.”
“She’s right,” Franz said. “I’m more concerned with Cece than I am with John, so if we have to sacrifice him, I will. Without hesitation. All he has to do is prove who he is and that he was with Cece. Let’s work backward and see if we can figure this out.”
“Let me just cut this off right now.”
* * *
The cards and ID fluttered to the table. Cece and everyone else was confused for just a moment, until she grabbed the driver’s license and read it.
John Smith.
“Holy shit,” Franz said.
Cece turned, agape. “You?”
“Me.” Killian nodded.
Cece didn’t know what to do—a hundred thousand emotions ran through her.
Killian, her Killian, the very man she had been pining for, falling for, was the perfect sub that haunted her dreams and nightmares. The submissive who hid his face. The submissive who made her want to be everything for him. Who inspired her knots to be perfect.
It was a good long hard stare in a thick, hanging silence. Cece finally stood to face him and paused for just a moment.
The crack of her hand echoed in the room. No one moved, only Killian flinched. A second later, she cracked him again.
Morgan’s voice broke the deafening quiet. “You deserve more than that.”
Cece watched Killian’s stoic face for any sign of reaction. He finally tipped his head down and caught her eye. “I’m sorry. I am. I didn’t want you to know it was me.”
“Don’t you fucking dare make this about your submission. You have put me through hell for the past three weeks by not saying anything! I have been sick, and tired, and worn down. I have been verbally abused and physically assaulted. And you could have ended all of it by simply telling us you were John Smith. Who the fuck do you think—”
“I fucked up, Cece. I didn’t think there was going to be another murder, or that they were actually trying to frame you. I was sure that Morgan could get you clear.”
“You would have let this go to trial?” Morgan was almost as livid as Cece herself. “Do you realize that when it comes to murder in the court system you’re playing on a whole new field? A different field from just about any other crime. You could have ended this three weeks ago before it even started.” Morgan stepped up to him. “Are you ashamed that you like having Dusty tie you up? Are you ashamed that you play in the lifestyle too?”
Killian shook his head. “I was absorbed in my own issues of Diane and her father, and I realize that it’s all the same problem now.”
“You would have let me go to trial.” Cece wanted to rip his balls off.
“No, never. I’m not ashamed of who I am. I’m afraid of it getting in the way of my professional career as a doctor.”
“Doctor Submissive.” Morgan’s tone was scathing and full of mockery.
Cece watched as Killian switched from the face he presented the world to the one he showed very few people, including her. It was the look of a Dom who had enough shit from someone. The look of a man who was finally, finally tired of hiding behind the mask of polite society. He turned that on Morgan, and Cece cringed.
“Back the fuck down, right now, Wisconsin. I am a Dom, who happens to like to switch. I am worried as fuck about my career, because I’m worried as fuck about giving Cece the life she wants. I wasn’t going to let it go to trial. I was planning on coming forward. It was just on my terms, the way I needed it to happen. Now Cece is accused of a second murder and it needed to be shared. Not the way I wanted to, but they way it had to. Do not accuse me of being ashamed when I am being practical and realistic.”
Morgan didn’t move. She was impassive to his rant, until, suddenly, a small smirk appeared on her face.
“About fucking time, Master Killian. About fucking time. You were wearing me down with your little game of I’m not a Dom.”
Killian stared at her. “What?”
“I told her you were a Dom.” Franz glanced at him. “I felt it was necessary.”
“Did you know I was Smith?”
“No one knew that.” Pa
ul shrugged. “Well played.”
“Not well played!” Cece yelled. She was furious. “I was played! I was arrested because you didn’t want people to know! Your terms! That’s fucking bullshit! Bullshit! I spent time in jail! I spend nights crying myself to sleep. You’re a Dom, and you’re a dick. You said you want to make sure your life is intact. What about mine, Killian? What the fuck about mine?”
“You done fucked up, Kay.” Morgan folded her arms.
Cece grabbed her purse and headed for the door. “You done fucked up.” She slammed it behind herself and burst into racking sobs as she ran for the elevator.
Chapter Twelve
Saving Cece from what was essentially a burn notice on her womanhood had been one of the closest calls on record.
There had been very little time between the discovery of the underground notice to rape and injure and the acceptance of the note. No one in the inner circles had been immediately available and drastic measures had been taken.
Wainwright’s and Dunham’s appearance had been damn near too late. Bloodied and bruised and unconscious until the deed was about to be done, she had to be forcefully removed from the situation. Dr. Thompson had been invaluable in keeping the failed attempt under wraps.
Garabaldi also had motive to keep the issue quiet; there was a good chance that the notice could lead them to the real murderer, if not her tormentor.
Cece had recovered well from the attack. It was easy to suppose that someone who had been a Domme for as long as she had had found herself in the same awful position more than once.
The revelation of Killian McInnis as John Smith was unexpected.
That was probably an understatement. The people who heard about it and knew of its significance were rendered speechless. Those who knew him as a Dom were shocked at the depths of submission he could achieve. They were awed by his desire to be tied up.
But no one has miscalculated the impact of the revelation more than Killian himself. Not on his friends, or coworkers or fellow Doms he trusted, but on Cece Robbe.
Betrayed by not just the man she loved, but the submissive who lit up her life, she hid in the house. The only people she would let in were Emmy, Morgan, and Garabaldi. And letting in was not a metaphorical statement. She would let no one in the house aside from them. She went to work, went home, and locked the door.
Killian and all of society had betrayed her.
Garabaldi had taken Killian’s statement that day, that he was with Cece the night Everett was murdered. He produced all the falsified documents that he used to create John Smith and was slapped with several misdemeanor charges and fines. Morgan, magnanimously, got him out of serving time. She was so angry at his shenanigans; she asked the judge for a ridiculous amount of community service. He wound up with slightly more than the one thousand hours she wanted.
Morgan Kirkbride was no one to be trifled with.
And with that admission, Cece was cleared of all charges in the death of Everett Millhouse.
Her trial wasn’t over yet. The evidence against her in the death of Susan Oetler Millhouse was still there. There had been no evidence of planted data, and there was no evidence of someone using her keypad other than her.
Garabaldi and the prosecutor both agreed that after her dismissal in the death of Everett, the death of Susan seemed more of a coincidence than intent. While the charges were not filed, Garabaldi asked that she behave as though someone was watching her every move.
Which they were, but who was watching was more sinister. The society she had grown up in, people she might have called friends, were now fully invested in their hatred of her. They watched her every move like a hawk, and in the one short week after Killian’s revelation had tried and convicted her of Saundra’s murder in the court of public opinion.
Whomever it was who wanted Cece Robbe out of their way was doing an excellent job of humiliating her and cutting her down.
Her self imposed isolation was slowly wearing on Killian. He didn’t know what to do, or how to fix the situation.
“You cannot argue that he didn’t deserve this,” the Hunk said, rolling onto his side and staring at the Watcher.
“Even he can’t deny it. But I don’t know what he can do to redeem himself. She’s not talking to anyone. Or rather the few people she is talking to aren’t saying anything.”
“They’re madly in love. But she was wronged. And he knows he did it. And now with the gossips prattling…”
“Someone is going to have to force him to go back and do some groveling.”
“A lot of groveling.”
* * *
Darien stared at Killian. He could feel the other Dom’s eyes boring into him. He didn’t really care at that moment—he just lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling.
“You really done fucked up, Kay.”
“You’re number four hundred and ten to remind me of that, Darien. Thank you.”
“You need to fix this, asshole. You meant well, but you didn’t think what you were doing all the way through. You let the woman you love suffer because of some point of pride you had.”
“I fucking know.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I have no idea. She’s not letting anyone in her house. She won’t sit at the front desk of the library, and her door is always locked. I get about two minutes to ask about her there, and then I get kicked out. No phone calls, no texts. I see she reads the emails and doesn’t respond.” He turned his head and looked across the room. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”
“Dom her.”
Killian screwed up his face. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Where the hell did I say I was kidding?”
“She won’t open her door, and you want me to go in there and make her submit? You think she’s not going to punch me in the face and knee my balls?”
“Of course she is. I would. But there’s no other way to get her attention, is there? What do you think she’s going to go to tea with you?”
Killian sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You have to show her, idiot. You can’t call, or talk or write pretty love letters.” Darien sat back in his chair. “You have to show her that she’s your everything. You have to show her that you don’t care what people think of Doctor Dominance. You fucked this up, and now you have to show her that your priorities have changed.”
“I just don’t know where to start.”
Darien steepled his fingers. “Reason this out with me, you douchebag. What made you think this was a good idea?”
Killian sat up on the couch. “I was trying to plan for the future. I wouldn’t be welcomed if it were known that I was into the lifestyle. Not coming forward as John Smith was my way of making sure that I was still employed and could establish my surgical career. If Diane’s father ever found out that I was some kind of kinky freak, he would have me fed to the proverbial wood chipper. So I hid. Being a Dom and being a switch. It was actually my intention to tell Cece that I was a Dom. I didn’t want her to find out like that.”
“So, once again, you let Diane and her ilk control everything you want and hold dear in your life.”
“No, I—”
Darien slammed the glass down. “No. You did. Doctor Martin Hamburg isn’t the only fucking doctor in this city. And he is far, far from the only prestigious surgeon. His stupidity in making you look incompetent would have eventually come to light.” He sat forward again. “Over and over, Killian, you have let the Hamburg family dictate what you can and can’t do. And you just can’t seem to see that they are making you lose the one thing I know you love more than life itself. You started an apprenticeship under another doctor. Stick with that. Move out from Hamburg’s ward. Stand the fuck up for yourself, man. Stand up for you woman. Don’t you get that? That’s what she’s pissed at. You didn’t stand up for her. You didn’t show her how much you wanted her in your life by hiding John Smith from her. You let Diane dictate wha
t you could and couldn’t do.
“That’s why Cece Robbe has every right in the world to kick you in the balls. You didn’t stand up for her.”
Killian blinked a few times, taking in what Darien had said. He wanted to scream back that he hadn’t let Diane control him, but the truth was—he had. Diane and her father. Ever since Angus McInnis had died, Killian had suffered under the thumb of others, and only because he allowed it to be.
Working his jaw, he finally looked up at Darien. “So your idea to win her back is to make her submit.”
Darien shrugged. “Part of it.”
“What’s the other part?”
“Let her punch you in the balls.”
“What?”
Sitting back, he raised an eyebrow. “You deserve it.”
Chapter Thirteen
Cece felt numb inside. After all this time, after all this hiding from the world, the very person she craved above all others craved her as well. He had wanted her so much and was afraid of her rejection that he hid who he was to submit to her. He loved her ropes and loved being bound by her. She never imagined that she would win Killian in the end.
There was nothing she wanted more than Killian in the shibari room. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. She couldn’t stop remembering how he had betrayed her.
Cece wanted to cry, but she had no tears left. She had cried all week. She had cried through the night. Emmy and Morgan had alternated nights the first few, making sure she ate. She told them to go, that there was no reason for them to stay. She promised to eat and keep on with what needed to be done.
Though in between doing it, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
All that wonderful rope. The magnificent sex they’d had that night. What she was sure would be his complete acceptance of the lifestyle.
And still. He wouldn’t give up his charade to help her.
Untied Page 10
