Ricochet (60 page)

in juvenile detention and even went to prison for

his violent behavior. He committed several

burglaries as a youngster, and he once used his

good looks and great personal charm to cheat a

young sub out of her entire life savings." She shook

her head sadly. "We'll bring you more on that story

later."

Rick turned off the TV, grabbed his laptop,

found Newman's article online, and began to read.

In order to do my research properly, I immersed

myself in O'Shea's seedy lifestyle. I found it easy

enough to become one of the star's conquests. All

you have to do is show up at one of the vacuous

clubs he likes to frequent and flirt with him. He's

always surrounded by pretty subs vying for his

attention, but I didn't have any difficulty talking

my way into his bed. He wasn't really interested

in conversation and after about two minutes of

heavy flirting, he asked me back to his place.

"Oh shit. I slept with this guy?" Rick groaned,

holding his head, wondering if he dared read on.

He glanced at Newman's picture at the top of the

article, trying to remember. He had curly dark hair

and was definitely pretty enough that Rick would

have picked him up in a club, but he couldn't place

him; it appeared his lifestyle had finally caught up

with him.

Let's be honest - he's a good lover, that much I

can say. No, not just good - he was great. He was

very attuned to my needs and gave me a good

time - but in the morning, it was clear he didn't

even remember my name. He seemed to think I'd

be happily fobbed off with the cheap play collar

he put around my neck, and he made it clear he

never slept with the same sub twice. I suppose

he's rich and famous enough that there are

always subs to oblige him, but I saw his attitude

towards subs as a symptom of his casual,

throwaway lifestyle.

Rick winced - that hit close to home. It wasn't

a very flattering portrait, but he couldn't deny that

it was accurate.

One thing that struck me was that he allowed me

to remain alone in his house when he left for

work. I could easily have stolen his possessions -

obviously, I didn't, but it made me curious. Either

he had nothing to lose, which most certainly

wasn't the case… or he was asking to be robbed

for some reason - maybe a sense of guilt at

having too much, or a feeling that he deserved it

for some past transgression? Knowing what I

know now, I think I've found the answer to that.

Rick stared into space for a moment, reeling.

He didn't like how many raw nerves Newman was

managing to hit; this guy had clearly done his

research. He had to force himself to read on.

I knew from our night together that O'Shea

wasn't what he appeared to be - he's very

charming on the surface, but there's clearly a

dark side that he tries to keep hidden. So, in

search of the truth, I went digging in his past -

and found something very surprising indeed. A

visit to Rick's father revealed some facts about

the star that he's tried to keep secret for a long

time - and with good reason.

So that was it. No wonder Newman knew him

so well; he'd got the inside scoop from the one

person who knew it all.

Rick grimly finished reading the entire article

and then, after a brief, frantic search for the card

his father had left with him, he reached for his cell

phone.

"Hello, son!" His father sounded insanely

cheerful. "I thought I'd be hearing from you today."

"You fucking bastard! You sold me out. I paid

you off, and you damn well sold me out."

"Well sure. Didn't I teach you anything?

Lesson number one: Don't trust anyone, Ricky-boy,

not even your old man! And lesson number two:

Why take one paycheck when you can have two?

This way, I got your money and that idiot

journalist's cash too." His father sounded very

pleased with himself.

"You told Newman about Sally," Rick said

brokenly. "There's no way he'd know about her if

you hadn't told him. She never made a complaint

against me; I didn't go to prison for anything

related to her."

"Of course I told him; Newman was paying

me for all the gossip - I didn't like to hold out on

him. Sally was such a pretty young sub, as I recall.

Last I heard, she was happily married to a nice

dom, someone who treats her real good. She's

better off away from you anyhow."

"Fuck you," Rick snapped.

Sean chuckled. "View it as a learning

experience. You screwed up and now you're

paying for it. You know what I always told you - a

person's secrets are their greatest weakness. You

should have been honest with those nice folks you

work for. I hope you have some savings to fall

back on, in case you lose that high-paying job of

yours."

"You know I don't. You cleaned me out!"

"Aw, you're breaking my heart here. I wonder

if anyone will employ you after this? Maybe you'll

have to go back to thieving again."

"One thing I can promise I'll never do is

become a conman like you."

"Aw, now that is a shame. You were good at

it too - just ask young Sally. But look, son, you

can't blame that entire article on me. Seems to me,

you gave Newman plenty of material all by

yourself. Now, I gotta go. I'm due on a flight to

Barbados in a couple of hours. So long, son. Good

luck with all those chickens that are coming home

to roost."

The line went dead, and Rick threw the phone

onto the bed. It seemed like the past had finally

caught up with him, and now it was well and truly

time to face the music. He got dressed, got on his

Harley, and, ignoring the press camped outside his

house, he drove to the studio.

Petra wasn't there when he arrived, so he sat

down on the floor outside her office door to wait

for her. He felt like a kid again, waiting outside the

principal's office, or the head warder's office, or

sitting in the Justice Hall waiting his turn to take

discipline. It seemed he'd spent his whole life this

way, no matter how hard he tried to escape.

There was a grim expression on Petra's face

when she strode along the hallway a few minutes

later.

"Petra - I'm sorry," Rick said, getting to his

feet.

"Not out here," she snapped, leading the way

into her office.

Rick followed her inside, and she sat down at

her desk while he took up a penitent position in

front of it. "Look, I know I'm fired, and that's fine,"

he said wearily. "I just want to explain. You've

been good to me, and you deserve that."

"I deserved an explanation when I first hired

you; it's a little too late now."

"I know, and I'm sorry. But I was just a kid

when I burgled those folks' homes; my juvie

records were sealed, and I guess I was stupid

enough to think they'd stay that way." Rick hunched

his shoulders miserably. "I wanted to leave the

past behind, Petra. I wasn't holding out on you for

any other reason.

"You went to jail, Rick!"

"Not for the stealing but because I got into so

much trouble at juvie. I was kind of a badass back

then, and I got into a lot of fights, so they sent me to

jail when I turned eighteen." Rick wrapped his

arms around his body. "I didn't want to be that

person again, Petra, and that's why I didn't tell

anyone. I've worked hard at not being him, believe

me."

Petra sat back in her chair and studied him. "I

do believe you. I read that article, and I didn't

recognize the Rick they described. What made you

change?"

"I found acting," Rick said quietly. "And it's

kept me on the straight and narrow ever since.

Also… someone took an interest in me - she turned

me around and gave me a second chance when

nobody else would give me the time of day. I

would never let her down after what she did for

me. "

"You know, as I was reading that article, all I

could think was - what kind of a father sells out his

own son like that?"

"My dad's a shit," Rick shrugged. "Always

was, always will be."

Petra drummed her fingers on her desk, a

thoughtful expression on her face. "Well, you

certainly always generate a lot of publicity for the

show, Rick, if nothing else. Question is - what do I

do with you now?"

Matt didn't sleep well. He wasn't used to the

bed, and he didn't like how big and empty the

house felt. He tossed and turned, wondering if he'd

made the right decision. It wasn't like Rule was

suggesting they get married, he reasoned. A

collaring was significant in a different way, but it

wasn't legally binding; if it didn't work out, he

could rescind Rule's collar and leave. What harm

was there in it? At least Rule wanted him, and it

wasn't like there was a queue of doms out there

clamoring to fasten their collars around his neck.

He was relieved when morning came. He got

dressed for their riding session and went

downstairs to find Rule already sitting in the

dining room, drinking a cup of coffee and reading a

tablet computer. Even dressed for riding Rule

looked immaculate, and he was wearing his

signature cologne with the distinctive fresh, sharp

scent.

"Morning!" Rule smiled at him, and Matt

wished the nervous feeling would leave his

stomach. Rule was in every way perfect; even his

mom thought so, and she was notoriously hard to

please.

"Morning." Matt pressed a kiss to Rule's

cheek and sat down at the table. A waiter appeared

by his side to pour him a glass of orange juice and

then melted away again.

"Here." Rule handed him a tablet computer -

one of the latest Rule-Tech designs. "I do like to

read the papers in the morning. I prefer business

publications myself, but I've downloaded some

more gossipy titles for you to look at." Matt

scrolled through the headlines as he drank his

orange juice… and his gaze fell on a showbiz

headline.

Rick O'Shea's secret shame!
Collar Crime
star in

jailbird revelations scandal!

Matt pushed his chair away from the table,

spilling the remains of his juice in the process. "I

need to go," he said urgently.

"Don't be ridiculous - we have a day

planned…"

"No - I need to go now," Matt interrupted

him. "A friend of mine is in trouble; I need to be

there for him." Matt handed Rule the tablet, and

Rule's jaw tightened as he read the headline.

"Really, this is no business of yours, Matt. If

Rick has got himself into trouble then he only has

himself to blame."

"You don't understand - Petra said she'd fire

him if he brought any more bad publicity down on

the show this season, and I can't let that happen."

"That’s ludicrous. It's not as if you can stop it;

it's not your decision."

Matt drew himself up to his full height and

glared at him. "Get me the damn car, Sebastian, or

I'll walk to the fucking studios."

Rule's eyes flashed. "I don't appreciate being

spoken to in that tone. I can see you're acting out of

a sense of friendship, and that's very commendable

even if it is misplaced, but you're being rude, and I

don't tolerate rudeness."

"And I really don't care. Now are you going

to get me the car or not?"

Rule studied him for a moment, and then very

slowly dabbed his lips with his napkin. "If you

want me to call for the car and ruin our day

together then the penalty will be six strokes with

my cane. Or you can choose to stay here with me,

in which case we'll forget it happened, and I'll

overlook your rudeness on this occasion. What's it