Command (Changing Roles Book 1) Page 17

  Sandra and Elizabeth reached across the table without hesitation, picked up pens and started to sign.

  My guide continued. “Mr. Imman’s mother explained the papers. Even offered to pay for the girls to have lawyers go over the documents before they signed, but as you can see, they didn’t hesitate.”

  The older woman jerked forward, like she was going to pull the contracts away.

  “I think Mr. Imman’s mother was surprised. She didn’t intend for them to sign right then. But they did.” She clicked the mouse, and the video jumped. “Mr. Imman was furious when he found out.”

  The scene showed an image of Fahd with his parents. This time the mother sat quietly in the corner of the room. The old man gesticulated wildly, and Fahd screamed back. Sandra and Elizabeth were also in the room, perched on a sofa facing the wife, and holding each other’s hand. Fahd turned, grabbed the contracts, and ripped them in two.

  The consulate employee held her hands in front of her body. “Mr. Imman has asked that I answer any questions you may have. Is there anything else I can assist you with?”

  “I’d like to speak with Sandra Hulsey alone. Do you think I could talk with her in here?”

  “Yes, I will go find Miss Hulsey. Please wait, Detective.”

  Sandra arrived a few minutes later. Her bubbly personality lit up the room. “You wanted to speak with me?” Baby blues, all bright and alight with endless energy, blinked with innocence and way too much makeup.

  I gestured for Sandra to take a seat and flicked my eyes to the door, indicating to the woman escorting Sandra this was a private conversation. No doubt the entire room was under video surveillance, but the illusion of privacy was all I needed.

  “How are you doing today, Sandra?”

  “I’m fine. Getting by. It’s still hard, knowing Elizabeth is gone.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss. Are you okay if I ask some questions?”

  “Yeah. If it’ll help your investigation.” The door closed as the woman left us alone. “What do you want to know?”

  “I just need to know a little about Elizabeth’s past. I’m interested in how she got involved in the lifestyle. Did the two of you share much?”

  Cherry spots on her cheeks rounded with her smile. “We shared everything.”

  Perfect.

  “Tell me about Elizabeth.” I schooled my voice to sound casual, bordering on disinterest. “Let’s start at the very beginning. Your Master said some friends dragged her into a club? What can you tell me about that? Did she ever mention her very first night?”

  Sandra blinked with the rapid fire of my questions. Damn; but I was too eager. Too many questions at once. The pressure of my speech would confuse her.

  “She was on drugs.” Her voice changed, disapproving in its tone.

  “Fahd mentioned that.” I tried to encourage Sandra to continue. “He also mentioned a dominant took an interest…”

  Sandra’s eyes grew big and bluer, if that were possible. “Oh, yes. Elizabeth said he was wonderful: kind, caring, compassionate. Demanding. He turned her away the following night when she returned high as a kite. He was a real stickler for the rules.”

  “The rules?”

  “You know, safe, sane, consensual practices, no drugs or alcohol?”

  “Of course. Sounds like a solid Master. Did she ever mention the name of this club?”

  Sandra waved her hand. “Of course. You know it. It’s Stripes.”

  A heart-stopping beat later, I found my voice. “You don’t say. How did she get inside?” Especially considering it has a closed membership.

  She giggled. “Well, if you’re pretty enough, you can talk your way into any club.”

  That shouldn’t be true but probably was. Did Jake and Kevin know about this big hole in their security system?

  “Well, I’m glad it was Stripes and not one of the other clubs.” God knows that was true. Of all the clubs in the city, Stripes certainly was one of the safest, precisely because Jake was so concerned about safety. “Did she ever mention who trained her? How long ago was this?”

  Sandra’s eyes flicked up to the ceiling, a classic sign she dug deep to remember an important fact.

  I didn’t rush Sandra, allowing her to collect her thoughts.

  “Hmm, she told me once. Three years maybe? She mentioned he had the most amazing eyes. Real piercing, she said.”

  “Dark eyes? Brown or black? Or light-colored eyes? Blue? Hazel? Green?”

  “Definitely light-colored because she was always saying how his hair was so dark, but his eyes weren’t, like a superpower. She called him the Clark Kent of Doms. You know, dark hair and laser eyes.” Her fingers drummed on the table. “Ugh, I can’t remember his name. But she didn’t stay with him long.”

  “Why was that?”

  “Not hard enough for her tastes. In fact, an older man stole her. She loved the way they fought over her. And the older one was a sadist. Elizabeth loved that.”

  “She was a masochist?”

  The more I learned about Elizabeth Westmoreland, the more I felt like I was investigating my death. She and I had way too much in common.

  Sandra nodded. “I think Master mentioned she liked edgier stuff…the breath play?”

  I remembered that conversation in my office. “Yes, he did. Please continue.”

  “Well, her second Master did all this edge stuff with her: breath play, knife play, blood sports. He’s the one she made videos with and who got her involved with some really edgy stuff, rape play and even gang-bang stuff. Crap that just makes me cringe. But she said he got too dark, like scary dark. I think she was scared of him.” She giggled. “Elizabeth said Clark Kent rescued her.”

  “How?”

  She covered her mouth with her hand. “He swooped in and stole her out of a dungeon. He took her away. Stuff of legends…” Sandra fanned herself. “But he wasn’t the kind to keep her for himself. After helping her put herself back together, he brought her back.”

  I was truly getting confused. “So when did she meet your Master?”

  “That wasn’t until later, maybe a year ago…at a breath-play demo. She’d been back in town for a year, after the Clark Kent rescued her—” All the muscles in her face grew slack, and a tear slipped free. She sniffed. “She was like my sister.” The tear tracked down her cheek, smearing her makeup. “Oh, I can’t believe she’s gone.”

  I reached forward and placed my hand over hers. It seemed to soothe her. “Listen, this is important, but do you know if she had any contact with either of those men recently?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so.” Her gaze cast about the room. “But wait—there was that one day a few weeks ago. She said her old Master stopped by the apartment.”

  “Which one? The hero or the scary one?”

  A sharp intake of breath had Sandra biting at her lip. “Oh, his name is right at the tip of my tongue. It was…oh, I don’t know, except she was on edge after seeing him. Our Master doesn’t approve of us speaking to other men.”

  “And you’re sure she spoke with him recently?”

  Sandra nodded. “Definitely. She said he came around, but she told him she was with our Master now. Sorry I’m not more help.” Her eyes brightened suddenly. “I’m not sure if this helps, but I think he had a short-sounding name that ended on a ‘k,’ like Mark, or Zack, or…” She made a grasping gesture and shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t remember.”

  “You did really well.” I put my hand on her knee and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve been very helpful. If you remember anything else, you let me know.”

  We stood and knocked on the door, letting our escort know we were done. She took us to the front of the building where Pete and Fahd Imman waited.

  Fahd collected Sandra into his arms. “Did you see everything you needed, Detective?”

  “Yes, thank you, Mr. Imman. Your willingness to cooperate has been an immense help, and I especially appreciate you letting me speak
with your slave.”

  He gave a slight incline of his head. “Anything to help. Is there anything else I can do?”

  I glanced at Pete, but he shook his head. “No, I think we’re done here.”

  There was a brief round of hand shaking before Pete and I exited the building.

  “What did you think of Fahd?” I unlocked the car doors and slipped into the driver’s seat.

  “Interesting man,” he said, getting into the car. “His story is the same as what you said. No deviations. What did you find out?”

  “The girls were consenting. No coercion.” I outlined my conversation with Sandra.

  “That’s not much to go on. What the hell are we supposed to do with a short name that ends in a ‘k’?”

  That was a good question, and one I intended to pose to Jake, a man whose name ended in a ‘k.’

  When Jake had spoken earlier, he had called Elizabeth by a different name. Liz or Lizzy or some variation thereof. He’d caught the slip, but not before I picked up on it. I didn’t believe in coincidences. How many dominants at Stripes trained submissives and had short names?

  I would soon be placing myself into his hands, but I wasn’t naive and easily manipulated. If Jake was hiding something, he would have to work hard to keep it from me.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kate

  Pete stood beside me in Stripes’ nearly empty parking lot. It was late evening, and the lamps shined down on us. The harsh light of the LED streetlights emphasized his pale flesh. The boy needed to get out more, bronze that white expanse of skin with a little sunlight therapy.

  He shifted back and forth, hands snaking down to his denim shorts, readjusting the pants legs to cover his balls. Mandy had asked for him to go commando, and no amount of tugging was going to cover up his assets. He’d been fidgeting from the moment I’d picked him up, and he hadn’t stopped complaining since.

  In between complaints, I’d barely been able to get him to focus on the case.

  Based on the videos I’d reviewed earlier in the day, I was even more convinced Fahd Imman was not our killer. I did tell Pete about my suspicions regarding Jake and his connection to Elizabeth.

  How to navigate those treacherous waters, though, remained a puzzle. Asking Jake straight out seemed the best solution but overly heavy-handed.

  I couldn’t afford to jeopardize my access to the Edge by asking questions he might find threatening. We were set to attend an event there this coming weekend, and I didn’t want Jake wondering if he was one of my suspects while I was under his command.

  That very thought had my insides knotting up impossibly tight. He had called and left a message with the details a few hours ago, along with a warning that three days wasn’t enough time to prepare.

  An image of kneeling before him flitted through my mind. His dark scowl and those penetrating eyes had me shuddering and rubbing my arms in the cool evening air.

  Three days was more than enough time to prepare. It was three days too long. Three days I didn’t need, with my gut twisting over how real my submission might become. Especially with a Master who electrified my senses. Hell, three minutes under his spell was three minutes too long.

  Which was why I needed Pete. His introduction to kink now came with a mission. I needed him to find out everything he could from those who knew Jake best. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to pin Jake down with those questions.

  Pete’s hands grabbed at his crotch. “This is so uncomfortable. My balls are practically hanging out the side.”

  I slapped his hand. “Stop that.” Automatically, I moved to adjust my white wig, a reflex so ingrained I didn’t even think about it. Instead of the white fibers of my wig, my fingers glided through the silky locks of my own auburn hair.

  For years, my wig had been a part of my outfit. The reflexive move had become habit. Drive up. Get out. Check the wig. Make sure the armor I’d put on at home was firmly in place. White wig. Check. White leather. Double check. The outfit transformed me into the Mistress of Pain with the pull of a zipper and the topping of a wig.

  I was no different than Bryce. His demeanor changed from one step to the next after donning a robe. Except tonight, Jake denied me the crowning piece of my outfit to complete my transformation.

  Feeling naked, I glanced around the parking lot. There was no one there but my buddy Pete, who hadn’t a clue what was going on inside my head.

  Holy hell. I was really doing this.

  “See,” he complained, “the boys are out again. This is so indecent.”

  Well, my hair was all wrong, and did he see me complaining? I glanced down. A half-shaved sac peeked out of the side of the crotch of his jean shorts.

  “It’s not that bad. Get over yourself.” I stalked toward the entrance.

  “It’s obscene.” He followed after me.

  “You’re at a sex club, Pete. Everything here is obscene.”

  Mandy was going to have so much fun with him.

  “Mistress Mandy wants you on display. Think of this as a challenge. It’s what it means to be submissive. What you’re willing to do to please her.” Like forgoing a platinum-blonde wig because Jake made it a command.

  My belly did a flip, and my body sang with the lure of becoming submissive again. So damn excited…and nervous…and angry. Wondering if Jake could pull off dominating me.

  I knew he couldn’t.

  I’d built so many walls over the years that he didn’t have a chance of breaking them down. There were so many barriers in his way, he’d quit long before he brought me to heel. But a growing part of me hoped I might be wrong.

  Pete’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know. I had a whole different picture of how this was supposed to go, and now I’m distracted thinking about the case.”

  “Well, don’t think about the case. Not now. Fun first. Work later. Remember, all of this is a fantasy. It’s about giving over control. You’ll be fine.” Good advice. Easier said than done.

  He followed me toward the entrance to Stripes, and I tried to take my own very sound advice. Here I was, mentoring Pete, explaining about giving over control, yet I stubbornly held on to mine.

  “Wait until after your scene with Mandy to worry about our case. When she settles down for aftercare that will be the time for questions. Just keep your head on straight. It can get pretty intense. But she’ll answer almost anything when you’re in that state. Remember, we’re just establishing a timeline here, basic relationships, validating what Sandra said. You’re just the new guy, interested in everything—the people, who’s who. Who knows whom. How everyone knows everyone else. Mandy’s a gossip. Get her talking, and she’ll spill everything. Find out who mentored Elizabeth.”

  “I know how to do my job.” He gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “I still don’t see why you don’t just ask him.”

  Slowing my pace, I allowed him to catch up to me. “This is different.” But it really wasn’t. I didn’t want to ask Jake because I was being selfish. Anything I could do to reduce the tension between Jake and me was to my benefit. Which is why I was forcing Pete to find out for me.

  “It’s just a little detective work. Jeez, you make it sound so complicated. Maybe you should lighten up. I’m not sure if you realize…but I’m not the one who’s nervous about what’s going to happen tonight.” He put a hand on my arm. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look like you’re going to your funeral.”

  He knew me too well. “Yes, I’m nervous.” More like terrified. “But I’ll be okay. I guess I’m just being a little overprotective of you. Sorry. I’ll back off and give you your space. Just give me a sign if I get too motherly for you.”

  “Come on. Let’s get this night started. We each have our jobs to do.”

  Yeah, he was there to have fun, live a fantasy, and ask a few simple questions. I had a slippery slope to navigate with a man who had the power to pull me under.

  Jake made a mistake in allowing me to keep my white outfit. Straddling the role of Mistress a
nd submissive, not quite one or the other, had my headspace all messed up. If he wanted to strip me of my power, he shouldn’t have let me come wearing any white at all. Despite his reputation, maybe he wasn’t so good at this game.

  Me 1. Jake 0.

  Yes, I was keeping score.

  We entered the lobby, and I checked us in. The woman behind the desk wrapped a black wristband around my wrist and a white one with a black stripe around Pete’s.

  He lifted his wrist. “What does this mean?”

  “The white lets everyone know you’re a guest. The black stripe means you’re not to be touched. That you’re spoken for.”

  “Hmm…I like that.” His chest puffed out. “I’m spoken for…” He wiggled his eyebrows and gave me a wink.

  I punched him in the arm. “Be careful what you wish for. Mistress Mandy is known for her whip.”

  “I thought she liked the crop. You think she’ll use both on me tonight?” His eyes sparkled with interest.

  “Depends how things go during your negotiation.”

  “Negotiation?”

  “You did bring your limits list, right?”

  He pulled it from his back pocket. “Yeah. We’re going to go over the whole list? I thought I just handed this to her.”

  “Did you pay any attention at all? You negotiate your scene based on that list. You don’t just hand it over. She’ll use that to know how to fulfill your needs.”

  “I thought I served her.”

  I shook my head. “Common mistake, but it’s the other way around. As the submissive, your job is to obey. Her role is to make sure your needs are satisfied.”

  “And what about hers? I thought that was the whole point.”

  “Her needs are satisfied when you obey.” I dragged him upstairs and pointed to the men’s locker room. “Go inside and remove your shirt, shoes, and socks. Come out wearing only the shorts.”

  “Why no shoes?”

  “Club rules. Submissives don’t wear shoes. It helps to avoid confusion as to who’s who. There are slippers if you want to wear them, just look by the door on your way out.” I pushed him toward the door and told him where to meet up once he was ready.