What About Love (Club Decadence Book 6) (21 page)

“Finally, a pattern,” Kieran uttered as he flipped open his laptop.

“What about Marilee? Does anyone know her profession?”

“Hang on, lass and I’ll tell you.” His fingers flew over the keys. “Jaysus,” he breathed as his eyes scanned the screen. “She was a violent crime reporter and her last byline was a story on the disappearance of Elaine Danson.”

The facts swirled in her mind as she mentally lined them up one way, then rearranged the details in another. A memory, vivid and painful blocked out her vision of anything else. It was of a man looming over her, his black scowl recognizable despite his hat and shaggy beard. She couldn’t forget the searing heat of his blade piercing her chest or the cold-hearted way he’d wiped the blade clean on her blouse. His callous laughter as he’d left her to bleed out on the cold, hard tiles of the courthouse floor still haunted her.

“You’re trembling, darlin’.” T’s breath brushed against her ear as he leaned close, his warm hand gliding across her bare back. “What is it?”

“Is there a problem?” Eric cut in.

Angie twisted in her seat, her finger’s curling over T’s forearm. In a voice husky with fear, she implored, “T, don’t you see? These women, they’re me. Or as close to me as it comes. If something’s off, he changes it, like dying a redhead’s hair brown. He’s doing it to make them more like me.”

She saw when it all clicked into place for him, his look of surprise yielding to a concerned frown. As she had in her moment of revelation, he surged to his feet and gathered all the files in front of him. He began rifling through each one, pulling out each victim’s photo and stat sheet, and aligning them in two rows in the middle of the table. After studying them carefully for several minutes, his worried gaze came back to her.

“Someone is targeting Angie look-alikes.”

Eric scowled. “How can this be when she’s only been in L.A. for three days?”

“Not someone,” Angie explained with eerie calm. “Richard Stapleton.”

“Fuck,” T bit out, his fingers stabbing through his hair. Still on his feet, he pushed back his chair and began to pace in agitation. “Of course, who else could it be?”

“The height is off a bit. They were all taller,” Eric murmured as he moved into T’s vacated place to further study the details.

“I couldn’t stand working for him,” Angie intoned numbly. “He was short and hated it, so I drove it home every chance I got by wearing heels purposely to provoke him. Three and four inches at least, which put me at six feet. I towered over him and it really got to him, always demanding I sit down when we met. It was stupid, I know, but he was such a colossal ass and a sexist bastard, talking down to me and giving me fluff assignments because I was a woman. It was my own small taste of retribution, which felt good at the time.”

“Do you have a picture of this asshole?” Eric asked sharply.

T stopped pacing and looked to Kieran at the laptop. “Access the San Antonio files. There’s a folder on him with at least two pics.”

It took Kieran only a moment before their new primary suspect came up on screen. The first photo was recent, of him in a suit and tie while the chief of police at the SAPD. The other was of him as Dick Benson, a dirty beat cop in D.C. a decade prior.

Eric perused them closely for a moment and shook his head. “He’s not one of our members. I meet with each one before they’re granted membership.”

“What if he’s using a disguise?”

“It’s possible. We use thumb printer scanners. If you have a print, we can run it through our system for a match.”

“We don’t. However, our friends at the FBI in San Antonio do. I’ll get Jonas on it,” Cap advised through the speaker. “He has access to your systems.”

“This ups the ante for our girl going under cover,” Eric stated. “If this is Richard Stapleton, I see two reactions on his part. He gets scared and moves on to some other club, or he gets greedy and goes after the real thing.”

“Unfortunately, we’ll have to hope he does the latter if we’re going to catch him before another girl ends up dead.” Angie’s voice sounded calm, although her insides were in knots. Being bait for the lowlife scum who’d almost killed her once already wasn’t her idea of a good time.

“I don’t like this.” T’s words were little more than a growl as he stopped behind her chair. His hands dropped to her shoulders, squeezing gently. “He came too close to killing her once before.”

“I’m fine, T, really. This just comes as a shock.” Her hand rose to grip one of his at the wrist. “These poor women are being victimized because they look like me.”

A bang through the speaker made Angie jump. It was as if Cap had slammed his fist into something. “I can’t believe we’ve been scouring all of Texas for that motherfucker and the whole time he’s been the one terrorizing our club in L.A.”

“I’m not surprised,” Angie replied. “He blames me and Rossi for messing up the good thing he had going. Although what works in our favor, I think, is that he’s arrogant and thinks he’s invincible.”

“He’s got balls, I’ll give him that.” Cap said, anger ringing in his voice not admiration. “It was too hot in San Antonio, so the next best place to exact his revenge against Rossi is Decadence L.A. Targeting lookalike subs is pretty damn sick, though.”

“It’s almost time to open,” Eric announced, his eyes homing in on Angie. “Are you ready?”

She wasn’t, but what else could be done. At this point they had no real evidence, only supposition. They had to lure him in and lock him down, and who better for the job than the archetype for his hatred and revenge. “I’m ready,” she agreed, ignoring the waves of intensity radiating off the man at her back.

Chapter Fifteen

This was her third consecutive night at the club and she’d never seen a crowd this big.

“It’s the voyeurs. Carousel draws them in.”

She looked up at the man who stood at the end of the booth where Eric had settled her and dared her to move until he or one of his men came to fetch her. His unyielding tone and stern expression were effective in keeping her in place, as was the memory of the huge mistake she’d made with the sadist Gregory, with an e and a y.

“So I was warned, Sir,” she answered with a nod, going right back to worrying her lower lip. She’d noticed the stations were clearing out as the booths filled up with twenty minutes remaining in advance of the big event. “It appears they drop everything for the show.”

“Yes.” He lifted his chin toward the second floor railing. “It’s standing room only in the crow’s nest already.”

Her gaze followed his to the loft, where members stood shoulder-to-shoulder at the railing.

“I’m Master Jerry, love.”

“Nice to meet you, Sir. I’m afraid my hello will also be my good-bye because come tomorrow I hope to be running home to Texas with my tail between my legs.”

He smiled sympathetically. “It’s going to be okay, Angie. You can trust Master T.”

“You’re a friend?”

“I am. I’m also a Rossi man and one of the Masters here. Eric sent me to escort you to T.” He offered his arm. When she didn’t move, he lifted her hand and folded it in the crook of his elbow. “You can trust him, brave girl.”

Taking a long indrawn breath to settle her quivering insides, she rose and walked with him to the center of the room. They passed a placard on an easel. Her name in bold letters jumped out at her. Alongside it was her offense, disobeying the Master Dom. Holy shit! She quickly scanned down the list of the other sub’s offenses. Blatant disrespect was beside one name, disobeying a dungeon monitor was listed twice, the last two were designated as volunteers.

“Volunteers?” She arched a brow at Master Jerry in question.

“Believe it or not, what you dread, others crave. Some volunteers wait months for a ride. We have a lot of naughty subs here in L.A.—intentional or not—although for some reason, this was an unusually slow week. So two lucky volunteers get to take a bench.”

Lucky, was he nuts? Her head angled up see if he was perhaps pulling her leg, but he nodded, seeming completely sincere.

“And here I thought I was brave when I volunteered to give blood. This is taking it to a whole new level.”

His laugh rumbled in his chest, soft and low like thunder in a retreating storm. He was charming, with an easy smile, the warm hand over hers comforting in a sense. The reprieve from her anxiety lasted only an instant.

“Here we are, love.” As he pulled her to a stop, he gave her an encouraging smile. “When it’s done, I hope to find you and discover if your reality is as bad as you’ve built it up to be. I’m hoping it’s not.”

With a little squeeze, he removed her hand from his arm and passed her off to another. This time when she looked up, mocha brown eyes stared down at her intently.

“Are you absolutely sure about this?”

She took a moment to breath, gathering her strength. A spanking and a blow job were nothing in the scheme of things, not when lives were on the line. Besides, this was T. Cap, Eric, Val, and now Master Jerry had all said he could be trusted. And, it wasn’t like she hadn’t dreamed of him or fantasized about touching him, or of T returning the favor, and most recently of taking him into her mouth. If it was someone else, she doubted she’d have the courage.

With unwavering determination—or supreme idiocy—she looked up at him and affirmed, “I’m sure.”

“It’s never too late. At any point you want to stop, say red. I’ll support your decision one hundred percent whether you whisper or scream it to the rafters.”

“He’s done this because of me. This is my fault.”

The concern on his face morphed into anger as his brows slammed together. His hand caught her jaw, tipping her head back. “Wrong,” he bit out. “You do not take on his shit, Angie. You have no blame in this.”

“I provoked him.”

“He’s a prick decades in the making. Although you may have incited his anger, you didn’t make the bastard kidnap, rape and kill. That’s on him. Am I clear?”

She peered up at him knowing he was right, yet, being the prototype for a deranged killer made it hard to believe. Still, she nodded, “You’re clear, T. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me too soon because what I have to say next you aren’t going to like.”

She caught her lip between her teeth, in both apprehension and confusion. What now?

“Strip, darlin’. It’s time.”

With a bravado she didn’t feel, she pulled the tie at the back of her neck. The slick material slithered down her chest where it gathered at her hips. With a little shimmy, she helped it along and it soon whooshed down her legs and pooled around her bare feet. She kicked it away and waited for more instructions.

“The panties go too, beautiful.”

She knew that. Val had explained the rules and the dress code for this ride was all bare. Hesitantly, she dipped her thumbs inside the stretchy lace and peeled the thong down her thighs, letting them drop.

He offered an outstretched hand. “Step out.”

As quick as she did, an attendant rushed in and swept them away.

“There’s a brave girl. Over the bench now.”

With his hand low on her back, she stepped to the kneeler and settled her upper body across the padded top rail. Warm fingers on her inner thighs nudged her legs apart and secured straps firmly above her knees and around her ankles. He trailed his fingers lightly up her back when he moved to the head of the bench. Although she lay still while T crouched and cuffed her wrists, her eyes roamed the circle. The other five benches were already occupied, a Dom at each end, a sub restrained and awaiting justice between them.

Many of the Doms she recognized as Decadence Masters: Samson, Kieran, George from the first night.

“Uh, T?”

“Yes, Angie?” he asked looking up, his experienced fingers adeptly finishing their task by touch alone.

“Um, do I know who’s standing behind me?”

“It’s Jerry. He brought you to me. Everyone who will touch you tonight was hand selected by me. They’re men that I know and trust. More importantly, I trust them with you.”

Heat flooded her face. “I’m not sure whether that’s a good thing.”

“Trust me, darlin’, it was a requirement or you wouldn’t be here right now.” The backs of his fingers grazed her cheek in a soft caress as he stood.

“All secure?” Her eyes shifted to the owner of the gravelly voice. Master Samson was manning the controls. Hearing six confirmations, he flipped a switch and the carousel began to move, rising slowly. She took a shuddering breath. This was really happening. As the platform came to a stop, it began to revolve at a snail’s pace. The only way she could really tell they were moving was by the slow progression of the faces of the onlookers at the second floor rail.

T squatted in front of her again. “I can make this easier, if you’ll let me.”

“How?”

“Submit to me. I’ll touch you like I did that time back home.” His lips caught hers, moving warm and gentle over hers as he spoke. “I can keep you distracted,” his tongue licked along her lower lip, “and aroused. Heightening your pleasure will diminish any pain.”

His hand brushed over her cheek before sinking into her hair, sending a spark of heat through her entire body as he deepened the kiss.

“I need an answer now, Angie.”

“Yes. I’m all for easy.”

“That’s my girl,” he murmured against her lips. T then ordered much louder, “Begin.” Confused at first, his command became clear when a smack of a broad hand fell upon her behind.

She yelped into his mouth. It hadn’t hurt. It was the abrupt onset that was startling.

“Concentrate on me.”

As his touch enthralled and his kisses intoxicated, Angie doubted that would be a problem. Opening her mouth wider under his, she moaned. Instantly, his tongue delved deep. Long fingers combed through her hair while his other hand wrapped around the back of her neck, his thumb at her jaw, holding her firmly in place for his increasingly ardent kiss.

More spanks fell, although they barely registered as befuddled as she was by T’s relentless invasion of her mouth. Her body warmed, the heat not limited to her rear end.

Distantly, a chime sounded and the spanks stopped.