Decoy

Brandi
Michaels

MS Reader (LIT) ISBN #
1-84360-257-1

Mobipocket (PRC) ISBN #
1-84360-258-X

Other available formats
(no ISBNs assigned):

Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook
(RB), & HTML

(c) Copyright Brandi Michaels, 2002.

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave.

Ellora's Cave, Inc. USA

Ellora's Cave
Ltd, UK

This e-book may not be reproduced in whole or in part
by email forwarding, copying, fax, or any other mode of communication without
author permission.

Edited by Mary Klopfenstein

Cover Art by Darrell King

Warning:

The following material contains
strong sexual content meant for mature readers.
Decoy
has
been rated NC17, erotic, by three individual reviewers. We strongly suggest
storing this electronic file in a place where young readers not meant to view
this ebook are unlikely to happen upon it. That said, enjoy…

Chapter
1

Melanie had never been so frightened in
her life. Her muscles and bones had turned to mush and her nerves quivered from
fear. She felt a trickle of sweat running down the center of her back and
wondered how she’d gotten herself into such a jam. As a conservative, middle
class working girl, her life was normally uneventful and too boring for words.

Even though she worked
as an office assistant at the local police
department, her job was routine and fairly monotonous. Her personal life had
been equally dull until Detective Dominick Roarke joined the force a few months
ago. Sparks had flown between them from the first meeting, but they both had a
lot of emotional baggage and neither wanted to risk involvement.

Melanie had never been lucky in love. The
last time her heart had been broken, she’d sworn off men, especially the
strong, silent type. Rumor had it that a bitter divorce in Dominick’s past had
made him equally wary.

Their attraction for each other had been
steadily escalating over the past few weeks, yet they’d managed to resist
temptation. Then some madman had kidnapped Roarke, and she’d volunteered to act
as a decoy to find him.

As the viselike grip on her arms
tightened, nearly cutting off her circulation, she fought for composure. Gagged
and blindfolded, she couldn’t see her abductors, but each of them had a beefy
hand wrapped around her upper arms. They forced her to walk between them,
reminding her of twin marble columns:
very big,
very strong and completely unyielding.

When they’d grabbed her from her car,
she’d pretended to fight them, but all she’d accomplished was losing her shoes.
They’d roughly ushered her into a building and then an elevator. Now they were
dragging her to a penthouse apartment.
She’d
figured out that much by the plush carpeting, the classical music in the
elevator, and the unique smell of wealth all around her.

A door opened, she was tugged inside, and
then it closed with a firm click. The carpet was even softer and thicker under
her bare feet. The smell of the room was a curious mix of leather and sweat.
Melanie sensed the presence of more people. Her captors tightened their grip,
bringing her to a halt between their massive bodies. She got the impression she
was being presented to someone or several someones. Hopefully it was the same
someone who held Roarke captive.

“Miss Branningon,
“
”
said a deep
masculine voice.

She turned her head to her right,
following the sound of the cultured, slightly accented voice. She recognized it
as belonging to Dwight Clayburn, a very wealthy hotelier who frequently made
the local news. He was currently under investigation by the local authorities
for the disappearance of his wife.

“How nice of you to join us,
“
”
he continued
smoothly. “Detective Roarke and I are thrilled to have your company. Aren’t we,
d
D
etective?”

Melanie strained to hear a response,
desperately hoping that the police lieutenant’s ploy had worked and that she’d
been led to Roarke.

When no response was made,
Clayburn’s
Clayburn’s
tone grew censorious. “Come now,
d
D
etective,
don’t be shy. Miss Branningon has gone to a lot of trouble to find you. The
least you can do is say hello.”

The unmistakable thud of a man being hit
in the head made Melanie’s stomach roll. She tensed even more, wondering how
badly Roarke was hurt. He’d confiscated a video that proved Clayburn had killed
his wife. After reporting it to the lieutenant, he’d stashed the tape for safekeeping
while he responded to another police emergency. Then Clayburn had kidnapped him
in an effort to recover the damning evidence.

The hotelier was obviously willing to
face additional charges of kidnapping and assault to get the tape. Her
abduction proved that he hadn’t been successful in prying information from
Roarke. Melanie knew the Clayburn planned to use her to get information from
him. She just didn’t know how he intended to use her. She
hoped the electronic homing device hidden in a
temporary filling would lead a rescue team to them before she found out.

“Speak to Miss Branningon,” Clayburn
insisted in an edgier, tightly restrained tone.

Roarke gave her a low, rough warning.
“Don’t do anything he says.”

Relief washed through Melanie at the
deep, commanding sound of his voice. Her heart leapt with joy, knowing he was
alive and so close. She
turned her attention
forward, realizing he was seated a few feet in front of her. She wanted to see
him and touch him and make sure he was all right, but the blindfold didn’t
allow her even a glimmer of light.

Her breath caught in her throat, her
pulse pound
ing
ed
in her ears as she realized just how much
he meant to her and, simultaneously, that she would
do anything to keep him alive.

“Roarke?” She cried his name, but the
thick gag in her mouth muffled the sound and added to her frustration.

Clayburn answered for him. “He’s fine,
Miss Branningon, and happy to see you, I’m sure. He has a video of mine, but
he’s refusing to tell me where it’s hidden. I thought we might make our own
little video of the two of you. Then maybe his renowned chivalry will convince
him to swap with me. Don’t you think that’s a good idea? You can nod your
reply.”

When she didn’t move, one of the goons
grasped a handful of her hair. She stifled a groan as he gave it a rough tug
and snapped her head backward.

“Leave her alone!” growled Roarke.

Her hair was released, and she shook her
head, the tangle of spiraling curls falling back to her shoulders. Her scalp
stung, but at least she’d learned that Roarke wasn’t blindfolded. He could see
her even if she couldn’t see him. She didn’t know if that was good or bad, but
the blindness was totally unnerving.

“If you hurt her, Clayburn, I’ll cut your
heart out and stuff it down your throat!”

Taunting laughter followed the harsh
threat.

“You’re not in much of a position to
threaten,
d
D
etective. It seems I have the upper hand,
but never let it be said that I’m not a gentlemen. I don’t intend to hurt Miss
Branningon. In fact, I’m going to do her a favor. My informants at the police
department say she has the hots for you, but you haven’t been very
accommodating.
So I’m going to give
her something you’ve been slow to offer: some long-denied sexual satisfaction.”

Melanie stiffened at the veiled threat
behind Clayburn’s smooth talk. A violent tremor shot through her as the
horrible thought of gang-rape flashed through her mind. Roarke swore profusely,
his tone dark and dangerous, but his warnings fell on deaf ears. Clayburn just
chuckled.

“Remove her gag,” he ordered. “It’s time
to get this video rolling. The blindfold will have to stay, but it’ll add a
hint of mystery to the film.”

As soon as the cloth was removed, Melanie
licked her lips and swallowed hard. Her mouth was dry and sore. She wanted to
rub her hands over her lips to wipe away the feel of the offensive cloth, but
the hands on her arms were like vises. They didn’t give an inch.

“I think the first thing we need to do is
make Miss Branningon a little more comfortable, boys. Help her out of her
clothes.”

“No!” Melanie tried to scream, but her
throat was dry and the sound was little more than a squeak. Her arms were
practically numb, but she jerked her shoulders in an effort to twist out of
their reach. She had to hold them off somehow until the rescue team could get
here. Her feet were bare, but since they were supporting most her weight, she
tried to kick
their shins.

They quickly and easily overpowered her.
Each man caught one of her legs between his own and effectively pinned her in
place.

She heard Roarke swear viciously again,
and then he warned her not to fight them. It would only make things worse, and
she didn’t have a chance against their combined strength.

Clayburn chuckled and complimented him on
the logic of his thinking.

It was evident that any response they
made heightened the madman’s pleasure. Roarke stopped yelling, and she went
still. Whatever Clayburn had planned, they’d survive it together.

The next thing Melanie knew, a big hand
was grasping the front of her dress, ripping it from her body. She stood
trembling in her bra and panties, spread eagle and on display. Goosebumps
shivered over her from a combination of fear and cool air rushing over her warm
bare flesh. Heat flooded her cheeks at the thought of Roarke and these
strangers seeing her this way. Even worse, she could feel the erections of both
thugs prodding her thighs.

“Such a lovely body,” Clayburn admired.

He’d let his goons rip off her dress, but
now he’d moved closer. He was so close that Melanie could smell the sweet scent
of alcohol on his breath and the strong scent of some expensive cologne. She
shuddered in revulsion.

“Too perfect to keep hidden. Right,
d
D
etective?”

A couple slices with the knife and her
bra fell from to the floor. Her nipples tightened and heat suffused her body.
She cursed her pale, redhead’s complexion and its tendency to blush scarlet.
Hot and trembling with humiliation, Melanie’s instincts were to cover her
nudity, but she was utterly defenseless. Having Roarke witness her
humiliation made it even more horrible,
especially as the goons kept rubbing their erections against her flesh. When
she thought it couldn’t get much worse, Clayburn continued his one-sided
dialogue.