Passion's Hope (The Doms of Passion Lake Book 3) (23 page)

An hour later, the three of them were sitting in a booth at Katie’s Barbecue restaurant watching their waitress set heaping plates of ribs, fries, beans, slaw, and homemade cornbread on the table in front of them. Jay and Charlie were side-by-side on one bench facing Nik. Charlie’s hand rested in Jay’s lap, his rested on top of hers. As soon as their meal arrived, he lifted her hand and placed it on the top of her thigh.

“As much as I love holding your hand, sweet thing, you need both of them to assume proper rib-eating posture.” Putting both elbows on the table, he bent forward, held the ends of the bone with the thumbs and fingertips of both hands and lowered his mouth to take an enormous bite. “They’re so much tastier when eaten this way,” he added around a mouthful of succulent pork.

“Both Nik and I are Board-Certified Instructors in Proper Rib-Eating Posture 101,” Jay informed her. “So if you’re in need of a refresher course, we’re your men.”

“Thank you,” Charlie giggled. “I’ll make a note of that.”

“Well, you’d better sign up early. Our classes fill up fast. Of course, for you, we’d probably make a special exception.”

“”Oh? And why is that?” Charlie asked.

“’Cause we’ve seen you nekkid.”

If Charlie had been drinking, she would have done a spit take. As it was, she just let out an explosive cackle that had people around them turning their heads to see what all the hilarity was about.

Ultimately, it was difficult for her to assume Proper Rib-Eating Posture because Jay started giving her lessons in a high, nasal voice with a snooty British accent that instantly had her laughing. “Lesson number one, Proper Wrist Angle.” He reached over to make critical adjustments to Charlie’s Wrist Angle. “Hands should not be bent upward or downward from the wrist, but should extend straight out, in order to assure optimum rib placement. No, no, that’s too high. No, no, no, no, no, way too low. Remember, you want to avoid straining the delicate tendons if you wish to avoid carpal tunnel problems in your twilight years.” He looked over at her and informed her with a straight face, still in that ridiculous voice, “Major studies commissioned by the RIA—”

“RIA?”

“Rib Institute of America. Their studies have shown that improper Wrist Angle while eating ribs is a major contributing factor to this easily-preventable condition.”

“I see.”

“Now, let’s move on to Lesson Two, shall we? Correct Elbow Placement. With your arms up against your body, pivot them upward at your shoulders, moving your elbows forward and placing them on the edge of the table. No, dear, too far. See, with your elbows that far forward you are in imminent danger of falling face-first into your plate, something that would instantly mark you as a rank amateur to the rest of the rib-eating world. Closer to the edge of the table. No, not
off
the table. Remember that face-falling thing? There. That’s better.”

“Is that all?” Charlie managed to choke out.

“Oh, no, there’s more.”

“There’s more,” she informed Nik, who was also laughing at Jay’s silliness.

“Lesson Three,” he went on in that high, quavering voice, “is Acceptable Bone-Holding Tension in the Fingertips and, I cannot stress this enough, It. Is. Critical. The rib must be held at both ends between the thumbs and index fingers of both hands. The grip must be firm, but delicate. Not too loose, now. You don’t want to risk pushing the rib right out of your fingers when you go in to take a bite. A little tighter, tighter, just a little—oops, now it’s too tight, we don’t want it to go flying through the air and land on someone’s head, now do we?” He gave a tittering little giggle that even had Nik guffawing.

“Now, we move on to Lesson Four, The Precise Angle of the Body Lean Across the Table.”

“Stop!” Charlie was laughing so hard she could barely get the word out, both hands over her abdomen. “For God’s sake, stop. My belly hurts!” She took several deep breaths, until she was finally able to stop laughing. “I think I’m going to forego the rest of the lessons, if you don’t mind.”

“Very well, Ms. Fielding,” Jay’s haughty expression matched his lofty tone, “Just remember,” he added direly, “you do so at your own peril. The RIA disavows any responsibility for consequences arising from your ill-advised actions.”

Charlie laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind. And I promise not to sue.”

They took their time polishing off a small mountain of the most delicious baby back ribs Charlie had ever put in her mouth.

They were waiting for the waitress to bring back Nik’s credit card when his phone rang. He listened for a minute, then looked at the screen, thumbing through several images, then said, “Thanks, Jason.” He handed the phone to Jay, who scrolled through the screen thoughtfully.

“Okay, who have we got here? Guy’s name is Carl Dietrich. He’s a licensed P.I., barely making a living at it if his declared income of twenty-nine k is to be believed. Twice divorced—now, there’s a shocker—no kids, no pets, no criminal record, only one address, in downtown Richmond. So, he either works out of his home or he sleeps in his office. Oh ho,” he exclaimed with an upward hike of his eyebrows. “Looks like that particular building is owned by one Perry Bradford.”

“Come on.” Nik signed the check, Jay threw a twenty on the table then handed Charlie up out of the booth. “Let’s get back to the Lodge. I think we’ve wasted enough time on Mr. Carl Dietrich.”

They led him to the Lodge, but instead of going through the gate into their private pool and patio, they parked at the far end of the guest parking lot, climbed up the steps and went in the front door, as if they were guests at the hotel. They walked through the three-story lobby and the restaurant, then down the stairs into their residence. Nik went into the bedroom and emerged wearing a tweed jacket. Charlie gave him a puzzled look. It was, after all, over ninety degrees outside. But he didn’t say anything, just gave her a wink and walked back upstairs.

“Where is he going?” she asked Jay.

“Out for a little meet and greet.”

“You mean he’s going to confront Carl Dietrich?” Charlie was aghast.

“Don’t worry, he’s more than up to the task.”

“But what if Dietrich has a gun?”

Jay chuckled. “Then he’d better be packing a bazooka ’cause Nik’s weapon of choice is a Desert Eagle 50.” He smirked and arched his eyebrows. “Now
that’s
a gun.”

* * * *

Walking swiftly, in a half-crouch, Nik circled around through the woods, keeping his eye on the silver Subaru to make sure it didn’t leave. Jay had deftly maneuvered Carl Dietrich into having to back the Subaru into a parking space at the far edge of the parking lot so he’d be able to keep his eye on both the Lodge entrance and their car. This part of the parking lot was graveled instead of paved and was bordered by a dense stand of trees which made it possible for Nik to circle around and approach from behind without being seen until the last minute. As he crept closer to the car he could see Dietrich’s elbow resting casually on the bottom of the window opening. Crouching low, he duck-walked up behind the car, waited a beat, then stood and rounded the back, striding straight up to the driver’s door and thumping his fist against the roof.

“Carl Dietrich,” he said in his deep
basso profundo
voice.

Dietrich jumped nearly a foot, banging his head on the head liner. Reacting purely on instinct, he reached beneath his jacket, yanked his Glock 9mil out of its shoulder holster and pointed it out the window right at Nik’s crotch.

Nik just rolled his eyes. “Oh, please,” he said, opening his jacket to reveal the Dezzy he’d shoved into his waistband.

Dietrich just swallowed and put his gun away. “Okay, who the fuck are you? And how do you know my name?” His tone was belligerent, but his face was a pale, pasty gray, he was sweating profusely, and he stank of fear.

“Oh, I know everything about you, Carl.” Nik leaned back against the passenger door of the car next to Dietrich’s Subaru, folding his arms across his chest, crossing his right ankle over his left. To the casual observer, he might have been having a pleasant conversation with a long-lost friend. “I know who you are, the fact that you sleep on a cot in your office. I even know how much money you make, although I suspect the twenty-nine k you claimed on last year’s income tax didn’t even come
close
to what you
really
made when you add in all that undeclared cash you got for all those under-the-table jobs you did for your boss, Perry Bradford. After all, you couldn’t let your ex-wives, Janet and Doris, know about
that
money, now, could you? They’d have your ass back in court so fast you wouldn’t even have time to
say
‘back alimony’, much less hand it over. You have no kids, no pets, your mother died when you were fifteen—”

“Who the fuck are you? How the fuck do you know all this shit?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you, Carl. You’ve got much bigger things to worry about. Like what Perry Bradford’s going to do when he finds out you let yourself get made?”

Dietrich squirmed in his seat. “How the fuck’s he ever going to know that?”

“Because you’re going to tell him.”

“Are you fucking crazy? He’ll kill me!”

Nik inclined his head and looked at the private investigator, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Not if I do it first.”

Carl flinched. Nik smiled.
Bingo. Direct hit.
He paused to let it sink in. “You know, Jay, my partner, thought we should just kill you and dump your body where no one would ever find it. We could’ve done it, too. This area of the state borders on a state forest that’s so wild even deer get lost in it. So don’t be fooled by his boyish looks. He’s a lot more lethal than you’d think just by looking at him. He can break a person’s hyoid with a flick of his hand that’s so fast it can’t be seen even by a slow motion camera. One second you’re there, next second,
ffttt!
”—he sliced the air with a sudden jerk of his hand, making Carl flinch again.
Nik shook his head, feigning a wicked chuckle. Okay, he didn’t have to feign it. He was really enjoying this confrontation. “Saved my ass more than once with that handy little maneuver, let me tell you. He sent a lot of very bad men to
Jahannam
—that’s Islamic hell. And it’s every bit as unpleasant as Christian Hell. Not that I have any personal knowledge of either, mind you. .

“But I digress. You’re going to tell Perry Bradford we made you because you’re going to deliver my message to him.”

“What message?”

“That if he does anything to harm even one hair on Miss Fielding’s head, he’s going to bring a shit storm of hurt down upon himself that will make spending eternity in Hell look like a vacation. He’s fucking with the wrong people.”

With that, Nik straightened and walked away. He already had his phone out and was dialing Mike Conover’s number when he heard the Subaru’s engine start and the tires crunching in the gravel as it took off out of the parking lot.

“Conover.”

“Yeah, Mike. Bradford hired a PI to follow us to get Charlotte’s location.”

“I hope you lost him.”

“Actually, no. I just finished putting the fear of God into him and gave him a message to take back to Bradford. Don’t fuck with us.”

“Well, as soon as we got back to Richmond, we arrested Bradford. He’s being arraigned tomorrow on charges of kidnapping with intent to cause bodily harm, unlawful imprisonment, torture, rape in the first degree, sodomy, assault in the first degree, and battery in the first degree. The DA’s going to ask for remand without bail and he thinks the judge will go for it. It’ll probably go to the Grand Jury next week.”

“Great. Is there any way you can put him in a cell with an undercover? My gut feeling is he’s going to be pissed. Probably enough to put out feelers for a contract hit on Charlotte.”

“Sure, I’ll see who’s available. We’ll let you know. Actually, I hope he does do that. A charge of solicitation for murder on top of all the other charges is guaranteed to keep him in jail for sure until trial.”

Nik could hear Mike’s grin in his voice. “Just help us keep Charlotte safe.”

“Don’t worry. We’ve got your six.”

* * * *

“All right, my dearest ones, listen up,” Nik said, rubbing his hands together. “It is now three o’clock. The band will begin arriving in the next half hour or so to set up for Charlotte’s audition. So that gives us half an hour to switch out that medium plug in your ass,
malchik
, to a bigger one. Because I am going to fuck you tonight and I want you to be stretched and ready for my cock.”

Holy shit!
Charlie’s belly clenched and rolled, spilling even more juice out into her already wet pussy. She loved the way these men talked, the raw, dirty words they used. Words that, when spoken by anyone else, sounded crude and disgusting. But when Nik and Jay used them, they sounded sexy and thrilling and sent her arousal soaring into the stratosphere.

“Take off your jeans and boots,
malchik
, go fetch a towel to cover the arm of the sofa, then bend over it to present your ass to me.”