Becoming His Slave (10 page)

“Yes.”

“Yes what? Trenton you gotta be specific here.”

“Yes—she’s the one.” He sighed. “Dammit Diesel—I want her to be the one.”

Diesel nodded only faintly. Hard thing for a man to ask out of life. A Life Slave. Might as well ask for a vampire, a fairy god mother or as he always called them—unicorns. That’s what a Life Slave was, a unicorn. Just a dream and not even a common one. When a man asks a woman to surrender her entire life and every part of her control over to him with no expiration date.

But it wasn’t a slave tale like you hear in horror stories or the news, this one was beautiful or at least he thought so. And it was still far more then the Sub Slaves that a Dom could enter into contract with for any outlined amount of time. A Sub Slave was there to service your desires and often underwent a considerable amount of BDSM workouts.

A Life Slave was in a classification by itself, the Mona Lisa to your art collection or the Unicorn to your treasures. For her surrender you had to tend to her. Every detail of her care was now your responsibility. In a sense by taking her life in your hands you became the servant. Down to the simplest details like bathing and feeding them, but their body was yours to love and make love to. No—there was more—there was a whole art to it.

Diesel had to admit he too desired that one day he’d find a woman who’d be willing to become his Life Slave and he was ready for that commitment. But finding the right woman for your body, heart and soul was hard enough alone, then to hope she would accept such an arrangement. A
no
could shatter a man’s sole—and he’d consoled himself over the years he could live with an alternative arrangement with the woman he would want to call his own and braced himself for the impact, but looking at Trenton right now he doubted his brother and lifelong friend had.

The screen flickered and finally the information came up. She had a state ID and it gave an address.

Trenton started up the Knight and was immediately turning it around to head in that direction.

Diesel swiveled the laptop around to look. Morgan Towers corner of Park Avenue and 34
^th
street. “Shit if she lives there, why the charades?”

MORGAN TOWERS: UPPER MANHATTAN

Trenton went to the door on the 56
^th
floor. He paced a few steps to get his bearings straight. He had no idea what he was going to say, maybe say nothing at all. Maybe he was just going to take that succulent kiss from her and then walk away leaving her breathless to let it build inside her till the next time he saw her. But so help him if a man answered the door it would take—

The door opened and there stood Garrett Steton, one of New York’s top male models. He’d seen him before at Stilettos with Vashon and Yigal before. Other than that he couldn’t say much about him.

“Can I help you?” Garrett leaned against the door jam with a—
I could give shit what you want
—look.

“I’m looking for Miss Katianna Dumas.”

Garrett let out a sardonic huff, “
Nah
man I kicked that little girl out months ago. She cared more about her fucking stupid little books then my cock so I tossed her.” And without further thought he stepped back and closed the door.

Trenton started to walk away, but he couldn’t. If he couldn’t find Katianna, and if he couldn’t do something about his hard on then he might as well expel some energy with the one thing he could do. He knocked on the door again.

Trenton returned to the Knight grabbing a tissue from the glove compartment. Diesel
watched him precariously.

“I sure as hell hope that wasn’t her blood.”

“Guess I found her ex boyfriend, good thing he’s her ex—I didn’t like him much.”

“Told him so, did ya?”

“Mm—” Trenton grunted. “Couldn’t help it.” He shrugged, still wiping over his knuckles. His mind somewhere else.

Diesel shrugged raising a brow at him. “So now what?”

Trenton shook his head. Not even Amelia knew where she lived, he’d already asked. And nothing was coming up on the records.
Dickwad
boyfriend up there had put her out on the streets seven months ago. He shook his head. He had a bad feeling he wasn’t going to like what he found when he did find her and was contemplating if he should push her to some new living arrangements next time he saw her when she came out to accompany Amelia to one of the clubs. While he could easily pay for her to have her own Park Avenue apartment, to do so would equivocate his true plans for her. He didn’t want to be just her sugar daddy or her lover—he wanted to be the master of her whole life.

~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~

~
                                         
~

CHAPTER THREE

~
                                         
~

FIVE WEEKS LATER

Katianna was just coming back from Amelia’s publishing office feeling some gratitude with herself having gotten her book turned in a week ahead of schedule and with a fresh check in her pocket she sprang for some Chinese food on the way home.

She was running a budget in her head as to how many months she could pay in advance and still leave enough for her electric, some food and a bus pass without having to start looking for a job again, since she had quit at the coffee shop just to make her dead line. If she could just squeeze by through another six months she could actually have another book she had going, along with a novelette ready in time to get another payment to float her for another four to six months.

So caught up in her mental calculations as she unlocked the door to her apartment and stepped in, she didn’t notice the open window over the fire escape before it was too late.

Katianna barely had time to let out the scream when she saw the man come bounding from her bedroom, her Chinese takeout falling to the floor when he came around and snatched her. Her feet went flying up towards the counter that divided the kitchenette from the living room and she kicked out knocking them both into the small two person table sending the single chair to its side.

The man jerked around, lifting her from her feet as he headed for the bedroom. Terror seized Katianna, but not so much she couldn't screamed again. Though as she did, she had no hope that someone might come to aid her. Her neighbors fought all the time and it always ended with the brute of a man beating his wife into silence. No one ever came for her neighbor… why would anyone come for her. She was dragged to the hallway and again she kicked out catching the wall and pushed off. This time managing to send them both to the floor, they landed with a hard thud and his grip around her broke. Katianna’s hand dove into her coat pocket and pulled out the taser Trenton had convinced her to carry and reaching over her shoulder, the tip made contact and she lit it up just a she rolled off of him. The man thrashed wildly on the floor and she bolted out the door. Leaving a trail of her screams, Katianna tore down the stairs, out the front door of the building and into the street, directly into the path of an oncoming truck.

Katianna felt the force at about the same time that she saw a mass of red painted steel coming for her, she could only think to jump, but never would remember if she managed it.

The truck slammed into her with a squalling sound of its tires as it tried to stop, sending her over its hood and smashing into the windshield like a boneless doll. The truck weaved and skidded—crashing into a custom motorcycle parked at the curb before coming to a halt and the force catapulted her body into the extended handle bars.

~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~

Harper Lancings got the call that afternoon, Detective Tate Marshals, head of New York’s SVU sent word that their killer had surfaced again. While Harper was a private investigator rather than a detective for the city precinct, he had been working in cooperation with them on a particular case involving a serial killer in the area for some time.

Harper had gotten involved when he was hired by Candice Smithy, to investigate her ex-husband. She was certain she was being followed and had on occasion come home to find things in her home disturbed or missing and it had her frightened. But Harper’s investigation cleared the ex husband and stepped up his investigation to find her stalker. But Candice was killed eight weeks after hiring Harper and when he learned she had been number 6 under the MO of a serial killer, he became heavily involved with the police precinct to track down her killer. He only hoped he’d find the
perp
before the police did, he had other plans for the fucker.

Harper met with Tate right away when it was looking like the man who had just attacked another woman carried the same MO as his targeted perp.

“So who was the victim this time?”

“
Uh
, Kati—” the detective shook his head, then tried again, “
Kat-yahna
—
Dum-ass
?”

Harper held his hand out for the man’s notes, he was a good detective, but he sucked with names. He glanced at the paper, “Katianna
Doo-mah
. The
s
is silent.” He frowned. The name sounded similar, but couldn’t place it. “So what else can you tell me?”

Tate threw his hands up, “No family, not sure about any friends at the moment. By the looks of her place—apparently didn’t own much. A laptop that got crushed. An iPad he hadn’t unearthed yet. Somebody said she was a writer—so she pretty much kept to herself sitting up late at night doing her own thing. No medical insurance either.”

Harper stilled his fingers scratching through his thick ash brown hair; he’d been pacing listening to the glum details until Tate said the word
insurance
. Why would a dead woman need medical insurance? “Insurance?” He looked at Tate questioningly.

“Yeah, didn’t they tell you?”

“Tell me what Tate? Just get it out will ya?”

“She’s alive. Girl managed to get away and ran like a bat out of hell till she ran out in front of a truck. They got her at Queens General now in surgery still last I heard. It’ll probably be awhile before we can question her.” He plumped down on the corner of his desk reaching for something from the file laid open on it, “I got a picture of her if you want it?” And held it out to him. “Oh yeah and she got away with this.” He held up a plastic zip lock bag that contained a taser gun now tagged as evidence. “Damn thing ain’t even street legal Harper, but it saved her life.”

“Where you think she got it?” He was scratching his head again. She would be the first of the killer’s victims to ever survive, so he really didn’t give a rat’s ass that her savior was illegal, but he was curious. He’d have to go thank whoever the son of a bitch was who gave it to her.

“From your fucking friend—” he tossed it back on the desk, “It’s registered to one Trenton Leos.”

Harper was suddenly snatching the picture from Tate’s hand and glanced down at it. He felt the lump in his throat when he looked and saw the familiar face. Now he remembered—Amelia’s
star writer
, they called her. He’d met her once at Stilettos and his brother Trenton had spoken if her a few times since he met her just over a month ago. Trenton rarely took notice of any one, not like this anyways. That’s why the name was stuck in his head. “Get me that hospital info on her will yeah? I gotta make a call.”

“Sure have it ready for ya in a few.”

Harper stepped out pulling his cell from his jeans pocket and punched up Trenton’s number.

“Yeah.”
He heard Trenton’s voice come up on the other end.

“Say—know that case I’ve been working on with the locals?”

“The one with Candice?”

“Yeah—that’s the one.”

“What about it?”

“He tried for another victim, only this one survived—”

“Tell me what you need, you need a few of my guys, just say so. You know I’ll back you up Harper.”

“It was that writer friend of yours.”

~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~

After a few more back and forth questions with Tate, Harper headed over to the general hospital to meet up with Trenton who no sooner had he mentioned the woman, had hung up on him. He knew Trenton would be instantly pulling up the police scanner report from his own data base computer and head straight for the hospital. By the time he was able to leave the precinct and meet up with him, Harper found Trenton already at the desk in ER and he was raging mad.

“Look the woman has no family; I’m the closest thing she has, so why can’t you tell me how she’s doing in there?” He argued with the nurse. He really didn’t have any clue as to whether she had any family or not. What he was sure about was that he wasn’t going to let up until the hospital acknowledged him and gave him the information on Katianna’s condition.

“I’m sorry sir, but unless you are a family member or spouse we cannot discuss her condition with you.” One of the nurses at the front desk stood behind the partition, her hands on her hips strumming her fingers impatiently as Trenton fought to keep from just letting out the full force of his rage on the woman.

“You can’t even tell me if she’s going to pull through?”

The nurse pierced her lips and shook her head refusing to divulge any information. It wasn’t her first rodeo.

“Then tell me who’s footing the bill, I’ll go ask them.”

She flipped through the pages in the file set out in front of her then glanced back at him, “She’s a blue card sir.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means she doesn’t have any insurance.” Harper answered as he stepped up, “State will likely foot the bill through victim’s aid and welfare.”

Trenton’s jaw clenched and he pulled out his wallet then slapped a platinum card down on the counter in front of the nurse. “There! Now I’m paying for it. Make sure she gets a private room, and if all she has is some first year intern blue card doctor in there working on her stop them right now and get a specialist in there ASAP. Then come back and tell me if she’s going to be okay.”