Drake Read online

  "Are you really asking me that question?"

  "Do I need to repeat it?" she retorted staring back at him.

  "Why don't you tell me what you think happens to naughty girls?"

  "Sometimes they get spanked," she breathed.

  The way he'd pinned her wrists had confirmed her suspicions. He was a dominant. Up to that point there were certain things that had suggested it; his take-charge attitude, his quiet confidence, the glint in his knowing blue eyes, and now she wanted to cry out her joy. She ached for the kind of attention only a loving dominant could offer, and laying underneath him, his power and strength overwhelming her, she was almost trembling with anticipation.

  "Especially naughty girls who are deliberately disobedient. Are you a girl like that?"

  "That's for me to know and you to find out."

  "And I believe I just did," he said raising one wicked eyebrow.

  She was suddenly flipped over, and as he pulled up her hips and began to vigorously spank her, she thought she would die from happiness. His hard hot hand slapped from cheek to cheek, pausing unpredictably to explore her pussy.

  "Are you going to behave?" he demanded landing a particularly keen smack.

  "I will, I'll behave," she gasped. "I swear. I shouldn't have been so…"

  "So what?"

  "Defiant."

  "You wanted to find out what I'm made of, and now you know, right Courtney?"

  "Yes, yes, now I know."

  "Does it make you happy?"

  "Deliriously happy."

  His mouth suddenly dove against her sex, and as his tongue began tormenting her clit, and his finger thrust in and out of her drenched channel, she lost all control.

  "Drake, oooh, Drake, fuck me, fuck me, I want you so bad."

  "I didn't hear a please," he declared, pausing to lift his head.

  "Please, please, pretty please?"

  Her utterances of pleasure had driven him crazy, and aching to slide into her hot depths he knelt up between her legs, clutched her waist, placed his cock at her entrance, and thrust home. He began with slow strong strokes, plunging with power, then slowly withdrawing, and as he quickened his pace he knew he wouldn't last long.

  "Drake, I'm so close."

  Her cry was desperate, which was how he was beginning to feel, and though he didn't want their lovemaking to come to an end he couldn't contain the force pulsing through his loins. Tightening his grip he accelerated, and as he pumped with abandon she let out a shrill cry. Her orgasm had seized her, and clenching his teeth, fighting his looming release, he watched her spasm, then pulled out and erupted on to the small of her back. Moments later she flopped into a limp heap, and sliding off the bed he padded into his bathroom, cleaned himself up, and returned with a damp cloth.

  "That was so incredible," she murmured as he wiped her back and dropped the hand towel on the nightstand.

  "Incredible would be the word," he agreed with a satisfied sigh, and laying next to her, he pulled her against him. "Apparently I have a naughty sub on my hands, quite literally."

  "I can't believe it. I'm so happy."

  "Even with a hot backside?"

  "Especially with a hot backside."

  "Listen. Do you hear that?"

  "What?"

  "Rain."

  "You're right."

  "It's perfect," he murmured. "I can't believe it."

  "The rain is perfect?"

  "I wanted to be in bed with you when it started, and I am."

  "You're such a romantic," she said shifting in his arms to smile up at him. "I should have guessed. Any man who drives around the city rescuing women has to be."

  "I was born with it. I used to punch the boys in the schoolyard if they were giving the girls a hard time. I was always getting in trouble."

  "Seriously?"

  "Yep."

  "I love that story," she sighed, pulling the covers around them. "I wish we could stay snuggled up here all day."

  "That's impossible."

  "I know. We absolutely must get that video out."

  "That's one reason. The other is I need to buy some condoms."

  "Um, actually, you don't. I'm on the pill. I didn't stop taking it, and if you're worried about other stuff you don't have to be. What about you?"

  "That's great, and yeah, I'm clean."

  "Then we're good."

  "All day it is then," he chuckled, "or at least, a little while longer."

  "Drake?"

  "Yeah?"

  "I can tell you the rest of the story about how I ended up with those bastards now."

  "Only if you're sure."

  "I am, and you'll understand why I was reluctant to tell you, let alone come forward. I belong to a private club. It's called Leather and Lace."

  "NO!" he exclaimed sitting up and staring down at her. "I'm a member. Why have I never seen you there?"

  "You are? I can't believe it. Oh, my gosh."

  "Don't tell me he's a member too. Is that where you met him?"

  "No, no, I met him just the way I told you I did, through work, but he must have been stalking me. I don't go to the club often, just when I need to be around people like me, if you know what I mean?"

  "I know exactly what you mean."

  "It's safe there. I can relax, and Roger, you know Roger the manager?"

  "Of course."

  "He watches out for me. Anyway, that night was just like any other night. I went in, sat at one of the corner tables in the playroom, then I went to the ladies room. You know where the bathrooms are, down that short hallway off the kitchen?"

  "Sure, near the back exit."

  "Exactly. I was pushing open the door when someone grabbed me from behind and I felt this sharp pain in the side of my neck. I blacked out, and when I woke up I was under those hot bright lights in that ravine."

  "I can't believe it. Are you okay talking about this?"

  "I'm fine. It's a bit strange. My therapist is the only person I've told, but telling you isn't anywhere near as difficult as I thought it would be."

  "Anytime you want to stop, just stop."

  "Don't worry, I will. Anyway, like I said, they must have been following me to know I was there. That back door is always unlocked because the kitchen staff go in and out. They must have been laying in wait, constantly checking until I showed up."

  "Courtney, I don't even know what to say."

  "Now do you understand why I couldn't come forward? The defense would have ripped me apart. They would have said something like, she met this upstanding lawyer outside a BDSM club where she's a member. What does that tell you about her? You can just imagine it, right?"

  "I'm sorry to say I can," Drake said solemnly. "There's a lot wrong with the justice system at times."

  "And that would have been for starters. My God, that dirtbag would have said all kinds of awful things about me. You know how judgmental people can be, and the press would have had a field day. My life would have been over. I'd have been living a nightmare every single day."

  "I completely understand," he said softly as he hugged her. "It's possible he hadn't planned on killing you. Once he discovered you visited that club he could have devised the whole thing believing you'd never come forward for all the reasons you just gave me."

  "What an evil monster," she mumbled, fighting the heat in her throat. "It's hard not to give into the emotion, but I refuse to suffer anymore because of him."

  "If you need to cry, if you need to vent, whatever you need, I'm here."

  "When you're holding me I feel safe. I feel like I can close my eyes and still be safe."

  As an unexpected yawn swept over her, Drake tried to quell the hatred welling up inside him. He wanted to stick a needle in Hewitt's neck, he wanted to throw him in a pit full of snakes and spiders and scorpions and watch him wake up surrounded by biting, hissing, venomous creatures, he wanted to—"

  "I don't know why I'm suddenly so tired," she mumbled breaking into his thoughts. "I slept so well."

  "You just got a load off your chest, and you also just had great sex."

  "It's probably that," she sighed managing a half-smile. "I swear, I'm going to pass out."

  "You go right ahead. I have nowhere to be and all day to get there."

  As he felt her body sink against him, and heard her breathing grow deep and even, he pondered the days to come. The video would go viral, of that he was sure, but how would Hewitt react?

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  While Courtney and Drake were peacefully dozing, Richard Hewitt was perusing google maps trying to find the best way to Courtney's house undetected. Ned's inane suggestions weren't helping. Richard Hewitt couldn't abide him, but he tolerated his tall lanky cohort because they shared a love of the macabre. They'd met at a sports bar, and while Richard had found Ned annoying, he'd sensed the man had a grisly side to him, possibly as grisly as his own. Over the span of a few weeks he had won Ned's confidence, and late one night, using his practiced art of manipulative conversation, Richard had enticed Ned to share his sordid fantasies. Ned was as depraved as he was, perhaps even more so, but over time, as they'd acted out their odious scenes, Richard had also learned Ned wasn't very bright. He had to watch him constantly and make sure he didn't do anything stupid, but it was worth the effort. Having another demonic soul along was useful, and he enjoyed sharing the gruesome fun, but then the two men had been caught in the act. It hadn't been due to a blunder on Ned's part, but a bizarre twist of fate. They'd barely escaped a trial, and Richard was rattled.

  "Let's just put a floral delivery sign on the side of my van and we'll say we're delivering flowers," Ned said impatiently. "No-one will pay any attention."

  "Ned, why don't you get this? Your van, you and I, cannot be seen anywhere near her
house. It's a gated community, it has surveillance cameras. I repeat: we cannot be seen."

  "Who's going to notice a florist?"

  "Forget it!" Richard barked. "Look at this. The hill behind the homes—"

  "Her house is two streets away from that hill," Ned protested.

  "SHUT UP AND LISTEN."

  "Okay, okay, keep your shirt on."

  "The hill has a ton of brush and trees, we won't be seen as we near the complex. Look at the fence, it's nothing. We'll be through that with wire cutters in seconds. If we skirt the houses we can get to her home no problem. Our only exposure will be when we cross the two streets, but no-one will be around. We'll go late."

  "How late are you thinking?"

  "Around midnight I guess, but we'll start watching late this afternoon, then do a dry run tonight. We also need to check the time of the neighborhood patrol car. There's bound to be one in a development like that."

  "Where do we get on the hill?"

  "There's a main road outside the complex here," he replied pointing at the map on his computer screen. "Plenty of places to park. We'll take my Mercedes. It'll fit right in."

  "Yeah, okay, sounds good, but Richard, I'm itchy, real itchy, if you know what I mean."

  "Yeah, me too," Richard replied dropping his voice.

  "How would you feel about picking up a hooker when we're finished and have some fun?"

  "I like it. Bring the stuff."

  "Will do. Man, I can't wait."

  "You and me both. Get over here late this afternoon. We need to start watching before the sun goes down."

  Richard didn't bother walking Ned to the front door, but ambled to the sun room in the back of his house and stared out at his yard. The rain was starting to come down. The hill might be boggy, but bad weather would make their reconnaissance even safer. Less people, and the rain would wash away their footprints.

  "Where should I pick up the whore afterwards?" he muttered. "I don't want to go too far, and I'd better get Susannah over here for the night. Best to have a solid alibi just in case."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Unable to rest and eager to get things moving, Drake had slipped silently from the bed, pulled on a comfortable track suit, and headed down to his office. He hadn't watched the video for months, and only then to transfer it to his computer and delete it from his phone. As he opened up the file and began to watch, a chill shuddered through his body. Both Richard Hewitt and Ned Romano could be plainly seen, and though Courtney was sobbing and pleading for her life her voice was virtually unrecognizable. Her plaintive pleas added tremendous impact. It made it clear the poor woman was suffering through a horrifying ordeal and he wanted to leave it in, but the decision had to be hers.

  "Wow."

  Spinning around he saw her standing in the doorway, and quickly pausing the video he jumped to his feet and hurried across to hug her.

  "You don't have to worry," she declared as he brought her into his arms. "I've been laying upstairs preparing myself for this. I knew I'd have to watch it, and the few seconds I just saw are incredibly revealing. It leaves no doubt about them and what they were doing."

  "I want to leave your voice in, but it's up to you," he said releasing her. "What do you think? I doubt anyone will recognize it."

  "I agree, but I want to see the whole thing from the beginning."

  "You're sure?"

  "Absolutely."

  Bringing a chair next to his so they could sit side-by-side, he refreshed the video so it would replay, then taking her hand he gave it a gentle squeeze.

  "I promise you don't have to worry," she said softly. "I really am okay."

  "I'm so pleased to hear it. Are you ready?"

  "Yep. Start it up."

  He clicked the play icon and the video began by showing a clear view of the entire scene. A few seconds later it zoomed in on Richard Hewitt, then panned across to Ned Romano, finishing on Courtney scrambling backwards. The angle made her hair appear shorter than it was, the bright lights caused it to look almost auburn, and her face was never visible. The video lasted less than a minute but it seemed much longer, and as it came to an end Courtney rested her head against his shoulder.

  "You okay?"

  "I am, though it felt a bit strange. How the hell did I survive? What angel sent you to save me? It was a miracle."

  "Yeah," he said soberly, "it was a miracle. I was almost panicking when I shot that. I wanted to get down to you so badly, but I had the strongest feeling I needed to tape it."

  "It's brilliant, you did the right thing. It's going to bury them both, and if they get off because of some stupid technical thing, I absolutely will kill them myself."

  "And I'll help you," Drake promised his voice deepening as he spoke.

  "I'm going to have a quick shot of that vodka I saw in your freezer, then I'm going to make us some tea, or do you want coffee?"

  "Tea. It's more civilized, and after watching those monsters I need all the civility I can get."

  A short time later, wearing latex gloves, Drake made copies of the video while Courtney addressed the envelopes to the city's main newspapers, the local network affiliate television stations, the District Attorney who had handled the case, and the Chief of Police. She wrote in block letters with a black felt marker, doing her best to add touches to disguise her handwriting. As a criminologist she was familiar with the science of hand-writing analysis and she wasn't going to leave anything to chance. Together they stuffed the envelopes, sealing them with tape, and when they finished they sat for a moment staring at them.

  "A time bomb," she remarked. "I can almost hear it ticking."

  "Yep, that's exactly what it is."

  "It's such a shame we can't deliver them ourselves," she said solemnly. "I hate having to depend on the postal service, and we'll miss the five-o'clock pick up."

  "I know. It will take two days to reach anyone."

  "What can we do?"

  "I know a private investigator. Jeff Harding. Maybe he can help. He calls me when he needs a bodyguard."

  "A bodyguard for himself, or one of his clients?"

  "Both. He's completely trustworthy. I know he won't blow the whistle."

  "You're sure?"

  "I'm absolutely sure. I won't tell him what's in the packages, though he'll probably put two-and-two together when the news breaks."

  "Do you think he'll do it?"

  "He owes me, so yeah, and besides that he loves the cloak and dagger stuff."

  Pulling his phone from his pocket he touched the screen. The call was answered on the second ring.

  "Jeff, it's Drake."

  "Hey, what's up?"

  "I need a favor, a big one, and I need it now. Are you available?"

  "For you, always."

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  It was just after 6 p.m. The private investigator had picked up the packages, asked no questions, and promised to deliver them immediately. Courtney's heart was pounding as she watched him place the envelopes in a saddlebag on his motorbike, then climb on board and speed away. Though he was feigning calm, Drake too, could feel his pulse racing.

  "It's going to be impossible to think about anything else," he remarked as they walked back into the house.

  "Do you think it will hit the airwaves tonight?"

  "I'd be surprised if it didn't, but I have an idea. Something that might distract us while we wait for the late news. How would you like to go out for dinner?"

  "Do you think it's safe?"

  "There are hundreds of restaurants in this city. I doubt Hewitt and Romano will wander into the one we choose. We could go to The French Sole. Do you know it?"

  "I don't. What kind of food does it serve?"

  "French," he replied frowning at the question, then seeing the twinkle in her eye he started chuckling. "A sense of humor when we're waiting for a nuclear bomb to hit our arch enemies. You're made of tougher stuff than I thought."

  "Uh-huh," she giggled. "I've been trying to tell you that."

  "It's my need to take care of you. I can't get past it."

  "Apparently."

  "So, would you like to go out? It's dimly lit and the tables aren't on top of each other."

  "It sounds expensive. I think dimly lit restaurants are dimly lit because they don't want you to see the prices."