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  DRAKE

  Vigilante Bodyguard

  MAGGIE CARPENTER

  ADULT ADVISORY

  This book is for adults only, and contains scenes of spanking, graphic sex, bondage, sensory deprivation, and are fantasies only, intended for adults. This book is not for children, nor does it condone corporal punishment of children. This book also contains scenes of violence. This book does not support nonconsensual spanking or any other nonconsensual activities, sexual or otherwise. It is a work of fiction, and the author does not condone or support a citizen taking the law into their own hands.

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  PROLOGUE

  It was almost 1 a.m. The air was cold. A thin crescent moon was penciled on the ebony sky. The track through the forest was creepy and foreboding, but this was when Drake Steele liked to run. In the many months he'd been jogging the deserted trail in the late dark hours he'd never seen a soul. Not once. He embraced the emptiness, took solace in the hooting owls and his footfalls crunching against the dry leaves. With the parking lot only a minute away he slowed to a walk, mostly to extend his time in the quiet solitude. He owned a bar called, The Lounge, and worked as a bartender three nights a week, but no-one knew he was proprietor. Working behind the counter allowed him to keep his eye on the staff and learn first-hand what the patrons wanted.

  His mind wandered back to that evening. It had been busy for a Tuesday. Loud and boisterous. Too many girls in skirts too short and tops too low. He often worried when he'd see a young woman leave with a stranger. It made no sense to him. It was reckless.

  A shrill scream suddenly pierced the silent darkness.

  Adrenalin surged through his body.

  Alarm bristling his skin he stared into the gloomy woods, and not wanting to advertise his approach he paused to switch off his headlamp before heading into the trees. In addition to owning a cocktail lounge Drake was a professional bodyguard, and he was more than prepared to tackle whatever he might find. When he heard a man's distant voice his pulse began to race. Was he too late? A second scream told him the victim was still alive, but it had been a frantic desperate cry. His blood pumping, his heart hammering, he hurried through the dense forest darting his eyes from side to side, then out of the gloom he spied a glow of ghostly light. Cautiously drawing closer he could make out a gentle slope and realized the radiating light was coming from the other side. Moving swiftly forward he started up the bank, and was almost at the top when he heard a sobbing woman repeat the same words over and over.

  "Please, don't. Please, don't."

  Every nerve in his body sparking, he laid on his stomach and crawled to the edge, but paused for a brief moment to smear dirt over his face. The woman's voice was rising in panic, and wriggling forward he peered over the crest. The sight was straight out of a horror film. He almost expected a director to step forward and yell cut, but it was real, terrifyingly real.

  Plastic sheeting was draped around the gully and across the ground, three bright lights were blazing down on a woman curled into a disheveled heap, and looming over her were two men brandishing gleaming blades. Drake took a quick breath. Blades weren't a problem, he could take them both, but just as he was about to leap into the fray he had a sudden thought. Too many times loathsome men like those below him escaped justice through lack of evidence. He wasn't about to let that happen. Pulling his phone from his pocket, making sure he kept the victim's face out of view, he videoed the entire scene, zooming in on the faces of the menacing men as they lunged at her with their knives.

  Having recorded a powerful forty-seconds he slipped the phone back into his zippered pocket, then shimmying away he ran his hands across the dirt in search of a rock. It needed to be about the size of a baseball. Too small and it would have no impact, too big and he wouldn't be able to throw it with the necessary force and accuracy.

  All he could feel was twigs and leaves. There were rocks near the jogging path but he wasn't about to leave, then suddenly his fingers touched something hard in the soft ground. Praying fervently he dug, and a moment later his prayers were answered. It was smaller than he would have liked, but if he pitched it with the right amount of force it would work. With the sickening sound of the desperate woman echoing through the air, he wrapped his hand around it and gauged the weight. Satisfied, he crawled back to the top of the slope to size up his depraved opponents. One was tall and lanky, the other short and squat, but he was muscled. He was the one Drake needed to take out with the rock.

  Risking exposure he needed to be quick. Making sure the ground was solid beneath his feet, his eyes never leaving his target, he stood up, raised his arm, brought it back like a professional baseball player, and let it fly.

  His aim was spot on; the rock landed against the villain's eye, and as he cried out in shock and dropped to the ground, Drake leapt into the ravine behind the tall skinny thug, grabbed his arm and jerked it up and behind his back in a deft, practiced maneuver. Letting out an almighty howl of pain the vile thug dropped his knife, but a dislocated shoulder was merely Drake's introduction. Grabbing a fistful of hair Drake yanked back his head, punched him square in the jaw, then followed it with a fierce blow to the stomach. Leaving him on the ground groaning in pain, Drake strode briskly across to the sobbing terrified woman. Her cheeks were streaked with black lines from her mascara'd tears, her dress was in shreds, and he could see bleeding from superficial cuts on various parts of her body. She wasn't tied up, a surprise, but he guessed that had been part of their fun.

  "I'm getting you out of here," he said quickly. "Hang in there. I'll only be a second."

  The woman stared up at him as if he wasn't real, as if she must be dreaming, as if there could be no-one in the forest in the middle of the night to save her, and reaching out his hand he gently wiped her face.

  "Try to take deep breaths," he said reassuringly. "You're safe now. I'll get you out of here in just a minute. Do you understand?"

  She didn't speak, but nodded, then bringing her knees up to her chest she wrapped her arms around them and dropped her head down.

  Quickly rising to his feet he turned his attention to the short muscled man. He was standing, one hand over the wounded eye, but he'd found his knife, and as Drake approached he began waving it in the air. Scowling, Drake paused, then striding across he turned sideways and kicked him in the side of the head. As the man tumbled over the knife flew from his hand, and grabbing it Drake squatted next to him, wrapped him up in a choke hold, and placed the knife against his throat.

  "Do you have a phone?"

  "Huh?"

  "I asked if you had a phone, scumbag."

  "Uh…b-back p-pocket."

  Not sure if he wanted to become embroiled in the case, he planned to use the criminal's phone to call 911, then send the video to the police anonymously on a DVD the next day, but he had a sudden thought. Pulling the phone from the perp's pocket, he punched him in the gut to wind him, then videoed the entire scene again, keeping the woman out of it to prevent her identification. If she wanted to come forward he would support her one-thousand percent, but it was her decision. Satisfied, he moved quickly back to her and crouched down.

  "I need to pick you up, is that okay? I want to get you away from here."

  "P-please."

  As he scooped her up fresh tears began sp
illing down her face, and scanning the ravine he spotted the path her attackers had used to carry their equipment into the ravine. Though he knew they wouldn't be mobile for a while, he would have preferred leaving them tied up, but he was more concerned with getting the deeply distressed woman to a doctor.

  "My car is only a short walk," he promised making his way out of the gully. "I'll call 911 and get you to a hospital."

  "N-no, p-please, n-no p-police, n-no h-hospital."

  "Whatever you want," he replied as he reached the top. "Don't worry about anything."

  He was able to move quickly through the trees. She was light and had curled into his body, and as he exited the trees he realized the crime scene wasn't nearly as far into the woods as he'd thought, but it made sense. Her assailants had moved heavy lights and a generator. They would have picked a spot as convenient as possible.

  "How the heck did you end up here?" he muttered to himself as he hurried along the jogging path to the parking area. "How many others have those bastards hurt?"

  The bright overhead lights came into view, and as he entered the lot and moved swiftly towards his Land Rover, he spied a dull red van. They had kidnapped her.

  "Do you think you can stand?" he asked reaching his car.

  "I, uh, th-think s-so," she managed, lifting her tear-streaked face from the crook of his shoulder. "No p-police. N-no h-hospital."

  "Don't worry. I know where to take you," he assured her, thinking she didn't want to go to a hospital because they'd have to report the attack to the police. "It'll be confidential."

  "Th-thank you."

  "Can you lean against the car for a second? I just need to get my keys."

  "Y-yes. S-sorry, I'm s-so…"

  "Save your strength," he said warmly, quickly opening the door and helping her into the seat. "Try to take some deep breaths. You're safe with me."

  "I c-can't b-believe you c-came," she sobbed covering her face with her hands. "I was p-praying s-so hard."

  Drake felt his heart melt, and simultaneously a surge of fury surged through his body.

  "You're going to be okay," he said softly, hoping his voice had sounded calm, then grabbing his heavy winter coat from the back seat he laid it gently over her. "There. Deep breaths. Take slow deep breaths."

  Closing her door he hurried around to the other side and climbed behind the wheel. She was shivering and in shock, but as urgently as he wanted to get her to a doctor there was something that had to be done first. Driving across to the old red van he pulled to a stop, and retrieving the thug's phone from his jacket he texted 911.

  TWO INJURED ARMED ASSAILANTS FAIRFIELD PARK, INSIDE WOODS. Enter from East parking lot. Take jogging path half-mile, turn right into woods 500 yards. VIDEO OF CRIME SCENE ON THIS PHONE. Will be on windshield of red van. Victim being transported to receive medical treatment.

  Ending the call he wiped the phone to remove his prints, jumped from his car, secured it under the windshield wiper of the van, then drove at speed on to the road that would take him to the highway.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Several Months Later

  The skulking figure had been watching his victim for almost a month and knew her routine. Every Tuesday and Thursday night she would arrive at an Irish pub in the upscale neighborhood around eight o'clock and stay until it closed at precisely 1:55 a.m. She always parked in the same place; the bank parking lot around the corner. Occasionally some guy hoping to get lucky would walk with her, but the stalker was prepared to deal with any escort she might have. Hiding behind a dumpster he checked his watch. I: 56 a.m. A moment later he saw her turning the block and heading towards him. His pulse ticked up, and pulling the ski mask over his face he readied himself. She had an older model and had to pause to put the key into the lock. It was all the time he'd need. She reached her car and opened her purse. Virtually holding his breath, excitement pumping through his body, he moved silently up behind her and raised his arm to grab her around the neck.

  "You picked the wrong night, buddy."

  Spinning around the thug found himself staring at a man with a neatly trimmed beard and mustache and thick bushy eyebrows. His blood ran cold. It was the Victim's Vigilante. As the girl screamed, a punch landed against the assailant's nose, quickly followed by another to his gut. Doubling over he fell into a painful heap on the hard concrete, and utterly helpless he heard the car speed away. He knew in a few minutes he'd hear the sirens. He was toast.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  "Oh, my God, oh, my God, you're The Victim's Vigilante. You saved me. Oh, my God. Thank you."

  Texting 911 on his burner phone the vigilante had given the location, then taking the keys from the excited girl he'd driven out of the parking lot. He didn't have to bother with lengthy messages anymore. The police would know it was him and squad cars would be surrounding the area in minutes.

  Traveling at normal speed he turned into a nearby all-night, multi-tiered parking garage just as the sirens began to blare, and driving up several decks he pulled into a parking space.

  "Thank you, thank you," the young woman said effusively. "Wow, my friends will be blown away that I was saved by the Victim's Vigilante. What's your name? It's so cool to meet you."

  "What were you thinking, walking into a deserted parking lot at two-o'clock in the morning?" he scolded. "You were a sitting duck."

  "But I do it all the time."

  "You think that makes it better? That makes it worse. Just how many bullets do you think you can dodge? Don't you realize if I hadn't been patrolling—"

  "But you were!" she exclaimed excitedly, interrupting him. "I'm totally freaked out, but wow. You're famous. Everyone loves you."

  "Aren't you more concerned that you could have been raped, or beaten up, or worse?"

  "I am, of course I am, but I can't believe you're here and you saved me. It's like you're Superman and I'm Lois Lane."

  Drake stared at the reckless girl in disbelief. He'd come to the aid of many women over the previous few months, and seen reactions ranging from utter terror to sobbing gratitude, but this was a first. She was more thrilled about his intervention than she was scared that she'd almost been the victim of a serious assault.

  "Um, are you going to, uh…?"

  "To what?"

  "I've heard rumors."

  "And I haven't heard you say you're sorry and you won't ever do anything so stupid again."

  "I am, I am, and I won't, I swear, and I'm still shaking. Look at me," she declared holding up her hand. "I've never been so terrified in my life."

  "That's not shaking. I've seen a woman shake with fear, and believe me, that's not what it looks like. You were scared for a few minutes, but you're not anymore, and that's painfully obvious. Didn't you learn anything?"

  "That's not true! I am still scared. I'm totally freaked out."

  "If you're so freaked out, why did you have the presence of mind to ask if I was going to spank you. That is what you wanted to know, isn't it?"

  "Shit."

  "I take it back, you are scared, but you're scared about that. Someone has to teach the women of this city to smarten up, and apparently it's fallen on my shoulders. Get into the back seat."

  "Does that mean you are? Holy crap. Are you're joking?"

  "Do I look like a man with sense of humor?" he growled frowning across at her.

  "But…"

  "Don't worry, I won't bare your behind, I'll just redden it through that skimpy dress you're wearing. Get into the back seat."

  "I can't believe this," she muttered as she unbuckled her seat belt.

  "If I had a dollar for every time I've heard that…"

  To his surprise she began clambering over the console, and shaking his head he stepped from the car, opened the back door, and settled into the seat.

  "Oh, I didn't know I was allowed to leave the car," she declared as she finished her awkward climb and landed next to him.

  "What's your name?"

  "Candy," she replied her vo
ice suddenly demure. "Candy Sullivan, and you don't need to spank me. I'm totally freaked out by what happened."

  "Again with the being freaked out? You'd be totally freaked out if that creep had been successful," he exclaimed. "You're an adult, act like one. Children do foolish things because they don't know any better. What's your excuse?"

  "Sorry, I won't do it again."

  Her voice and demeanor had fallen meek, and she was looking at him with wide doe eyes.

  "I'm glad to hear it, though I'm not sure I believe this sorry little girl act, but it doesn't matter. Over my knee."

  "Seriously?"

  "If I have to ask you again I'll spank you harder and pull your panties down!"

  "But I've never been spanked," she mewled, then letting out a resigned sigh she slowly crawled over his lap and buried her face in her hands.

  "Obviously," he grunted, pulling a short, stout wooden paddle from his inside jacket pocket. "Maybe if someone had taken a hairbrush to your backside you'd be a bit more responsible. Ten hard and fast then you'll go home, straight home, drop on your knees and say a prayer of thanks. You were saved tonight, and don't ever forget it."

  "Oh, my God, I can't believe this is—OWWWWWW, OWWWWWW!"

  The paddle had landed abruptly with five fast smarting blows on her right cheek, then five on her left, and though the punishment was over so quickly she'd barely had time to react, it had left her skin hot and stinging.

  "Ouch, ouch, that hurts, that really hurts!"

  "Point made?" he asked, slipping the paddle away and rubbing his hand over her upturned bottom, barely covered by her think cotton skirt. "Please tell me I have one less woman to worry about."

  "Yes, absolutely," she panted. "Damn."