Bound and Freed Boxed Set (24 page)

John drove Kelly home late that evening, and both of them
were tranquil and companionably quiet together.

My family loves John,
Kelly thought dreamily, while riding home in the car
. And so do I. And John
made mom stop and think about what she was saying for a change. And apologize!
Could anyone be happier than I am right now?

Of course if it wasn't obvious that John had piles of
cash, it may have gone differently. Mother had this thing about 'financial
security.' She had been pretty impressed with the expensive ring John had given
her, too. Taking everything into account – nothing could have turned out
better.

Strangely, the rest of the family night had gone really
well. With the event of her mom's misbehavior, John had clearly discovered his
social persona. It had been an amazing experience for him, and Kelly knew that
he was still on a high. While he hadn’t fully relaxed in the presence of her
family, John had felt much more himself.

Richard had given Kelly the thumbs up as they left, when
John wasn't looking. He would call and have LOTS to say later to her. Tackling
their mother had made John a hero in a weird sort of way. Mom had been getting
a bit out of hand, and to think that the dragon could be braved had been a revelation
for everyone.

For the rest of the evening Kelly's mom had been actually
a lot of fun. It made an impressive change, and Kelly hoped it would last.

"I have a list of what is important in my life,
Kelly," John said, breaking the silence and giving her that beautiful
smile of his, "and you're right at the top."

Kelly laughed and patted his hand. "Man, you were
terrific tonight, John. I'm so happy for you. You were great! The things you
said about me. I guess we have a mutual admiration society going on here. The
fact that you think I am so incredible and talented, makes me think so, too.
You make me believe in myself. Oh my God, when you said: '
Kelly
is perfect exactly as she is, or exactly as she chooses to be.' Wow. Someday,
when I sit down to remember every nice thing people have said to me over the
years – it will be a long time before anything beats what you said about me
tonight."

"Thank you, Kelly," he said in that sexy,
well-mannered way of his.

Kelly's mind went off into a mental reverie of pleasure
then, as John quietly drove for awhile. John always said such amazing things.
No one could sweet talk like he could. He didn’t say much, but everything he
did say was so heartfelt.

The words he had spoken just this morning came back to
her:
I want to dominate you, and protect you, and feed you, and keep you,
and discipline you. I want to worship your body, and be first in your heart. I
want to own you, Kelly.

Pretty comprehensive indeed.

John pulled up to a stop light. With his foot on the
brake, he reached over and took Kelly's hand, and began nibbling on her
knuckles, biting softly with his teeth and licking. Kelly swallowed. Man,
John's every touch was like a brand, marking her as his.

How did it come to this?
she
thought awed by the way she felt.
Right or wrong, for good or bad, there is
no escaping the truth. John Taylor owns me, body and soul.

She had known of her submissive tendencies for years, but
with John it was totally different. Kelly craved him with a powerful,
overwhelming need. She longed to obey his every command, to comply with his
every order, and to do anything, and everything he asked of her. Kelly needed
to please him more than she needed to eat, or sleep or breathe. Heat burned her
face and body, and her clit began to throb simply with the thought of making
him happy.

"You kind of have an oral thing going on, don’t you,
John?" Kelly said, trying to minimize her instant powerful lust with a
casual comment.

He gave her an intent knowing look and said seductively,
"What do you think?"

Kelly's hips almost bucked as she remembered the last
time he had been between her legs, licking her, fingering her and sucking her
to completion. "Oh yeah," Kelly sighed contentedly. "You really
do. But so do I," she said, raising her eyebrows, looking toward his penis
and attempting to make him as hot as she was.

"Hummm," John said, staring at her mouth.
"I noticed that, too."

Kelly almost squirmed his interest was so flagrant. The
way that man looked at her mouth was shameless, and utterly X rated. John loved
her going down on him, which was just fine because she loved that, too.

The light changed and John returned his attention to the
road. "What are you doing tomorrow?" he asked.

"I need to wash some clothes, and do some other
household chores, but then I'm going to work in the afternoon."

"Good," he said. "I'm taking you home
tonight, getting some sleep and then I'll get some study done. I'm running late
on an assignment. We can afford to not see each other for some of the day
tomorrow. But how about I come and visit you at work at the speed dating site?
Would that be good or bad for you?"

"Oh I'd love it," Kelly said. "Yes, by all
means, break my night up. Come any time after 9 p.m. People are pretty
organized and it runs itself after that." Kelly went on to explain where
she was located, as it was a different venue each day of the week.

As John dropped her off and gave her a hungry, demanding
kiss good bye, Kelly reflected that sadly, she would have to wait hours and
hours to see him again.

As it turned out she was wrong.

Monday morning, April 15
^th
,
Detective Lorenzo Martin of the Portland Police Bureau felt incredibly
irritated, and was doing his best not to show it.

As he sat at his desk, he
stared for a moment at his new partner who was absorbed in some paperwork. The
woman was smart, and she was also keen. Lorenzo had to give her that. Lucille
Irwin was about five-foot eight, a slim woman with a stern face, and
thirty-five years old. Her hair was brown, short and really curly. Lorenzo
figured it was permed that way, because it didn't look natural. It made him
wonder, was the woman trying to look less attractive? She wore little make up
and her brown eyes were piercing, somewhat like a predatory bird.

So far so good – no problem.

So what was it about her
that got on his nerves? Because she irritated the hell out of him, that was for
sure. Lorenzo felt it was some constant impression that the woman unconsciously
projected. Her manner toward him almost seemed accusatory. Lorenzo felt off
balance with her, as if he had to justify his actions all the time, when he was
the senior officer and far more experienced detective.

Upon being introduced,
Lorenzo had disliked his new partner instantly, and didn't that just irritate
the shit out of him? He had been working though his natural antipathy ever
since. Lucille had held her role as a detective for four months in Burglary but
with the retirement of Lorenzo's partner six weeks ago, she had been moved to
become his replacement. The woman was new to Homicide, but acted as if she knew
everything already.

God I miss my partner Gelly,
he thought.
I wonder if he misses me?
Lorenzo gave an internal snort and went back to work. Gelly was probably out
fishing, enjoying some peace and his own company for a change.

Lorenzo had planned to pay
his chief suspect, John Taylor a visit on Sunday, but there had been a murder
Sunday morning at 1 a.m. and he and Lucille had been called in. Tommy Kinsley
a
28 year old white male
had been
shot to death on
the corner of NE 22
^nd
and Washington. Five eye witnesses saw the
murder and heard numerous gunshots. Police had apprehended the suspect with so
much evidence against him that his defense attorney's only chance would be to
get on his knees to the prosecutor and beg.

The killer, another under thirty white male, had a
spotless record and was still living at home.

With no discernible connection to the victim, the perp
had been diagnosed with drug induced psychosis, substance currently unknown.
The blood test would sort it out. How he got a-hold of his father's revolver
was anyone's guess, and that wasn't necessary for Lorenzo's part of the
investigation. Right now he was going to hand this file over to the assistant
DA with a second degree murder charge.

The stupid idiot would regain his addled senses in
Maximum Security with probably no memory of the event, wondering where he went
wrong. Well. He would have years to try to figure it out. With
diminished
capacity and no priors he would probably be found guilty of the lesser charge of
manslaughter
.

Lorenzo signed off on the last of his notes, shut the
case file and stood up.

"How ya doing there, Lucille? Ready to go see the
twisted, sadistic, nutjob? I'm thinking Taylor will enlarge both your
experience, and mine. He looks like a real piece of work."

"I thought we were going to wait for the search
warrant?"

"Nope." Lorenzo checked his watch. "I
figure we have probably two hours before the paperwork comes through. Meanwhile
I want to go rattle his cage and see if I can get some answers."

Lucille leaned back in her chair, pressed her lips
together and frowned. "Are you sure? Wouldn't it be better if we
waited?"

Lorenzo took a deep, steadying breath, getting a firm
hold of his rising temper. "I'm not waiting. You coming or not?"

Standing up, she said, "But what if the search
warrant arrives?"

"Then our forensic team members will turn up with
it, and start searching. But we'll already be on site, scoping the guy out.
C'mon. It'll be fun." He said coaxingly, not wanting to field any of her shit
just then. "Let's go."

The drive to John Taylor's bungalow in Aloha took very
little time, and Lorenzo briefly went over the details of the murder, and the
game plan with his partner.

"Now look, Lucille, this is your first serious case
here, where the bastard can wriggle out of this. We have to do things properly,
you get me? Right now we have all our little ducks lined up in a row. So when
we are with this guy, you let me ask the questions, okay? Just listen to how I
work things. Everyone does it differently, and that's okay, but while you're
new I want to you just watch and learn, right?"

Jesus,
Lorenzo thought
. She's
making that face again, the tight mouth with prune lips of disapproval. Christ
this woman sends me nuts.

"Fine," Lucille said, looking somewhat
mutinous. "I'll take notes."

Around 10a.m. Monday
morning, John's doorbell rang.

John had been sitting in
front of the computer working on his assignment, so he stood up and looked out
the window. A man and woman were outside, and he could tell immediately that
they were cops. John never used the front door, because it opened directly into
his bedroom, so he went through the side door kitchen area, and walked around
to the front porch.

"Can I help you
officers?" he said.

"Mr. John Taylor?"
A crisp tenor voice sounded from the man.

"Yes."

"I'm Detective Lorenzo
Martin of the Portland Police Bureau, and this is my partner, Detective Lucille
Irwin." Both pulled out their badges to show John, and he nodded.

"How can I help
you?"

"Can we come
inside?" Detective Martin asked. When John stiffened with his normal
resistance to having anyone in his home, Martin must have picked it up
immediately because he added, "We need to talk, and it would be better not
to speak out here."

John nodded once more,
turned and walked back through the kitchen and into his home. The detectives
followed.

"Have a seat,"
John said. "Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Pop?"

"No, thanks,"
Martin said, as he and Detective Irwin sat at his small, square, four chair, wooden
table.

John sat down too, and
studied the obviously senior Detective, Martin.

The man was a couple inches
shy of six feet, and thirtyish, the same age as John would guess his partner to
be. Detective Martin was well built and wore the comfortable, commanding
appearance of a seasoned cop. There was a Hispanic heritage somewhere in the
man's background. Martin looked street-wise and dangerous with his strong
no-nonsense expression, and his dark intelligent eyes that raked the room.

John recognized and instantly related to the Dom
tendencies of the detective, the predatory aspect of his manner, the desire to
hunt, to seek and take down a criminal. John liked him for it.

It was subtle in his body language, but John was well
aware that Detective Martin clearly didn't like him. Now why was that?

With her lips pressed firmly
together, the woman appeared annoyed. She was thin and her features seemed
severe. John wondered if the two detectives had been quarreling, because she appeared
to be in disagreement about something. She wore dark blue slacks over dark
flats, a light blue uniform shirt. Her lightweight Portland Police jacket
didn’t hide the gun clipped to her belt. Detective Martin was dressed in a
similar fashion.

John managed to maintain his
customary impassive expression when Detective Irwin met his eyes, but damn. The
woman
really
didn’t like him. Hummm. This didn't look good at all.

"I understand that you
have been the victim of some recent attacks?" Detective Martin asked.

"Yes," John said. "Twice in the last two
months my car has been vandalized."

"And your garbage bin was strewn over your lawn last
week?"

"Yes."

"And three months ago someone used red spray paint
to write, 'Bad Seed' on your home. That was the first in this series of
attacks?"

"Yes."

John had reported every incident, detailing and taking
photos of each event. Even though he hated his father, one aspect had been
impressed upon him as a child that he actually agreed with: Stay on the right
side of the law. John faithfully reported any occurrence because of that. Also
his father was a judge, and it was plausible that one of his father's
disgruntled clients had it in for him.

"Do you have any idea why someone would want to do
any of these things, Mr. Taylor?"

"No." John studied Detective Martin with
slightly narrowed eyes. The man had his reports, and he knew who his father
was. So why was he here? What was he looking for?

"Mr. Taylor, can you
confirm for us that you are a client of Professor Maria Christina
Lopez?"

"Yes."
Now this is an unexpected and
disturbing line of inquiry.

"When did you last see
her? And when did you last speak to her?"

"I last saw Professor
Lopez on Tuesday the 19
^th
of March," John said, noticing that
Detective Irwin was taking notes. "I last spoke to her around 3 p.m. on
Friday the 5
^th
of April."

"Did anything unusual
happen when you saw her? Did she seem the same to you? What did you talk
about?"

John gave Detective Martin a
considering look. "You know that I see Professor Lopez in a professional
capacity? She is my psychologist. I have been seeing her twice a month for four
years, something you must also be aware of. Nothing unusual happened on either
date. May I ask what this is about?" John asked calmly.

Sitting perfectly
motionless, John wanted to kiss Kelly again for teaching him how to manage
people. He was a Dom, and these detectives were his naked subs and his
responsibility. It made everything so much easier to imagine that he was the
one in control, observing
them,
and noting their every thought or action.
Already he had been analyzing both of these police officers, but what he
discovered so far didn't bode well. Not for him, and not for Maria.

God, I hope Maria is
alright,
John thought.
With my all encompassing love affair with Kelly, seeing my
psychologist hadn’t seemed as critical as it had been previously. I should have
gone over there to find out why she didn't return any of my calls.

Detective Martin rubbed his
chin and then straightened, looking directly at John. "On Sunday morning,
the 7
^th
of April, between the hours of midnight to five a.m.,
Professor Maria Christina
Lopez was murdered in her
home."

John Taylor blinked, and remained utterly still and
quiet. He found himself falling into that detached state of unreality he fell
into whenever he received a severe shock. It was a protective survival
mechanism, and he knew this, too. His psychologist, Maria Lopez, had helped him
to discover and be aware of the unconscious tools he used.

Detective Martin said,
"Mr. Taylor can you tell me where you were about a week ago, between
midnight and five a.m. on Sunday morning, April 7
^th
?"

John was experiencing a
momentary mental fog. Maria Christina
Lopez,
had been a friend, and a confidant, and she had helped him, and now she was
dead.

Maria,
he thought.
I'm so
sorry. Was your death my fault?

"Mr. Taylor?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I asked where you were
about a week ago, between midnight and five a.m. on Sunday morning, April 7
^th
?"

"In my home."

Martin's dark eyes were
bright with interest as he leaned slightly forward and asked. "Can anyone
substantiate that?"

John's first thought was for
Kelly. Maria was dead, he would put that aside and deal with that later. Kelly
had been with him all that night. But did he really want to get Kelly involved
in this? Out of his depth, John decided he needed professional advice. There
was no question in his mind that these detectives considered him a suspect in
Maria's murder.

"I believe, Detective
Martin, that I should seek the advice of counsel at this point," John
said. "Do you have any objection if I call my lawyer?"

Detective Martin rolled his
shoulder's, in a loosening manner, leaned back in his chair, and inhaled
deeply. "Fine," he said. "You do that."

John told the two detectives
to make themselves at home. Then he went into his bedroom, shut the door, and
called his lawyer.

The firm who represented him
didn't manage criminal cases, but knew a reputable firm that did. John
instructed his lawyer, Marion Segal, to arrange everything. He explained that
he had an alibi for the time of the murder, but as Kelly Flynn would be
considered a hostile witness, John wanted a professional to help her through
the statement giving process.

The next consideration was Kelly's
safety. John instructed his lawyer to get a 24 hour guard arranged for Kelly –
the best there was, at any cost. If someone started by spray painting his home,
then moved to vandalizing his car, and ended up killing his psychologist, they
were clearly escalating and Kelly could be in danger.

The final priority was that
he didn’t intend to drag his BDSM Club into this, so he didn’t want Kelly to
mention where they had met up Saturday night. John knew that Kelly wanted her
sexual kinks to remain confidential so it was important that she tell only what
was required and did not offer more information. His lawyer would help her
there.

Ever since John began the
BDSM enterprise, he had kept his own life separate from the Basement – not for
his safety, but for the club's protection. John didn’t want his father to know
that he owned it - particularly as they had already rejected his father's
membership application twice.

With a long term uneasy
truce with his powerful and dangerous father, John was naturally paranoid and
security conscious, so he never kept anything related to the Club in his house.
The money trail showed that he owned the building, but that was an investment.
John had bought the building in order to create a safe place for the Club, but
no one knew that.

John instructed his lawyer
to call the Club Manager, Colin Wilkins, to apprise him of the circumstances.
If Colin wanted to contact him, then he would have to go through his law firm.
From now on, until this crime was solved, John would be on lock down and
nowhere near the Basement. Colin could easily manage without him.

With the phone to his ear,
John opened the door to the kitchen area, and despite his grief and tension he
almost laughed out loud. The two detectives had clearly been arguing. Lucille
Irwin looked as though she had been eating lemons. Lorenzo Martin was worked up
enough to jump into a boxing ring and utterly destroy the crowd favorite.

"My lawyer is asking if
I am going down to the station with you?" he asked.

"Yes," Lorenzo growled.

John relayed this
information to his lawyer. And then, to his complete surprise, a number of cops
arrived on his doorstep.

With a search warrant.