Exit Strategy (24 page)

CHAPTER TWELVE

Tristan

“We’ll monitor the video footage going into and out of Ms. Gabriel’s condo from the elevator directly into the suite and every other point of entry, including the stairs. If anyone fitting her description entered or exited the domicile, we’ll know it within the hour,” Velasquez says after Tristan relays Keisha’s Aimee-sighting from the night before.

“Good,” Tristan says. “Someone’s playing games, and I want to know who and why.”

“We’ve done everything we can behind the scenes for now concerning the three persons of interest we identified last week. The rehabilitation facility corroborated that Sara Fielding was volunteering there for about six months until she called and told them she wouldn’t be able to continue.”

“They have any clue why she stopped?”

“She told them she was too busy at work.”

“Yeah, right. Busy spending her father’s money.”

“If you’re up for it, we can question Ms. Fielding together early in the week.”

“Sure. On your way out, get Darryl to set that up for first thing Monday.”

“McCaskill’s driven by KSR a few times. He seems to be casing the joint, hoping he’ll catch Ms. Beale alone.”

“Check and see if Ms. Beale has a restraining order on him. If not, I want you to make it happen. If McCaskill’s found in the vicinity again before you get the order in place, you have my blessing to send him a message. Just don’t get us sued.”

“Done. On another subject, you might be interested to know that Paulson and Fielding appear to have a friends-with-benefits situation going on. Our guys have documented them visiting each other during hours that indicate they’re only up to one thing.”

Tristan shakes his head. “The bastard’s stooped to taking my leavings. He can have at her, but if I find they’re working together on this scheme, they’ll see what a nightmare truly is.”

~*~

Aimee surprises the hell out of him when she agrees to meet Keisha and put her mind at ease about her sighting of someone fitting Aimee’s description. He is struck by how surreal the situation is, that he’s about to witnesses his past colliding with his present.

Keisha frets over what to wear as if she’s having an audience with a foreign dignitary. She’s usually confident about her wardrobe on every occasion, but meeting Aimee has given Keisha pause. Tristan leaves his office and checks for the second time to see if she’s ready. Keisha’s checking a new outfit in the mirror when he pokes his head into the bedroom door.

“Ready?”

She eyes his reflection, adjusting her sweater and smoothing her hands over her jeans. “You think I should wear a dress, Sir?”

Tristan folds his arms across his chest and shakes his head. “Seriously?”

Keisha pulls a face, throws up her hands as if she’s done, and stalks toward him. “It’s not my fault that Emily Post didn’t write anything about what to wear to meet an ex-sub.”

Tristan grabs her hand when she comes abreast of him and pulls her close. “You look great.” He steers her out the door, hands on her shoulders.

“We don’t dress so much for men as we do for other women. It’s a woman thing, Sir.”

“Believe me, Aimee is beyond caring about things like that.” They traverse the stairs quickly, Keisha taking two steps to his one, and they take the one floor down on the elevator within seconds.

Nurse Hathaway comes from down the hall and greets them in the foyer.

She smiles broadly at Tristan. “Mr. White, you’re here. Aimee was just asking after you again.”

Tristan nods. “Mrs. Hathaway, this is Keisha Beale. Keisha, Janet Hathaway, Aimee’s Nurse of almost what... ?”

“Two years,” Mrs. Hathaway says. She extends a hand to Keisha, but does not smile. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Beale.”

“Likewise,” Keisha says and shakes the older woman’s hand.

“This way,” Mrs. Hathaway says and leads them to Aimee’s room.

As they enter the room, they look toward the bed, which is empty, then scan the enormous room to find Aimee seated in her wheelchair. Tristan notices she has had Mrs. Hathaway take great pains with her appearance today, as well. Her red hair is lush and shiny. She is wearing makeup like she did long ago, a pair of grey slacks, and a matching sweater.

Were she not strapped in the electronic chair, and operating it with the few fingers on her right hand that weren’t disabled in the accident, Tristan might have imagined her as the old Aimee. The woman before them looks like she just might have gotten up and walked. But then, when aware that her legs underneath the slacks are as atrophied as her left hand, one can only be assailed by the utter impossibility it is.

Aimee engages the chair and rolls it slowly toward them. Tristan takes Keisha’s hand and urges her forward. “Aimee Gabriel, meet Keisha Beale. Keisha, Aimee.”

“Why, the camera doesn’t do you justice,” Aimee says, exaggerating her Texas drawl as she’s prone to do when she’s nervous. “You’re breathtaking.”

“Thanks?” Keisha says, the surprise of being greeted with such a warm compliment evident on her face. Tristan looks from one to the other, not quite sure what to make just yet of this awkward meeting that could quickly become a serious debacle.

“You’re not T.X.’s usual flavor, but it’s about time he stopped dating busty, long-legged Barbie Dolls.”

Keisha laughs, and Tristan gives her a warning look, but Aimee angles her chair between them.

“Now you behave, T.X., Keisha’s in my house—” She stops mid-sentence and addresses Nurse Hathaway. “You can leave us, Janet. I’m going to chat with my new friend, Keisha, and T.X. for a while. Please close the door on your way out.”

The nurse seems taken aback by this request, but she nods and attempts a smile that looks more like a scowl, and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

Aimee makes a one-hundred-eighty degree turn and heads to the seating area near a massive fireplace. “Please, have a seat. Forgive me if I can’t attest to how comfortable the furniture is, but it sure is pretty.”

Tristan wonders, fleetingly if bringing Keisha down here is a mistake, but she seems to get Aimee’s brand of humor and lets loose a one-liner of her own.

“Believe me, if you had the same designer, it’s about as overrated as some of the pieces in Tristan’s condo,” Keisha quips and sits down on the loveseat.

Aimee laughs and rolls her chair beside the coffee table in the spot where it sits when she’s not using it. 

Tristan sighs and shakes his head for about the hundredth time and sits on the loveseat next to Keisha. “Looks like you both have jokes today.”

“Aw, T.X., you’ve got two women in the same room who’ve known you in the biblical sense and shared in your most sinful of kinks. You’re among friends.”

“Let’s just move along, shall we?”

“Oh, that’s right. I’m eating into your role-play weekend. Sorry kids.”

“Aimee, don’t make me regret this.” Tristan clenches and unclenches his teeth, trying not to be annoyed with her.

“Keisha, don’t follow my example,” Aimee says with a wicked gleam in her eye. “I always did teeter on the edge of bitch more than submissive with Tristan, so I’m sure he doesn’t want me giving you any ideas.”

“I’m sure I give him fits sometimes, too,” Keisha says and smiles coquettishly up at Tristan, who rolls his eyes heavenward.

“How close are you to going through the entire punishment deck?”

“I’d say I’m two-thirds of the way through,” Keisha says with a mock frown.

Aimee gets as animated as she can without the ability to move her arms. “What do you hate most, so far?”

“Withheld orgasms.”

“Oh, aren’t they the worst?”

“Oh my God, yes. It’s like... the punishment I can get over and forget about, but going days, sometimes weeks being taken to the brink with no payoff . . .”

“Whoever was first to use that as punishment was truly a sadistic bastard.”

Keisha chuckles. “I know, right?”

This has to be the reason why he’s never felt an overwhelming need to introduce his current submissive to past submissives. Here were two of the best he’s ever had talking amongst themselves as if he weren’t in the room. It was time to steer the conversation in a different direction.

“So, Aimee, I thought you might want to share a bit about your prognosis with Keisha.”

“You know everything—why didn’t you do the honors way before now?”

Keisha looks to him as if she’s silently asking the same question. Tristan has an answer, no matter how flimsy.

“Because it’s not my medical information to share.”

“You’re not bound by any NDA on my account.”

“Maybe not, but can’t you just do as I ask? For once.”

“You going to spank me if I don’t—for old time’s sake?”

Aimee knows that even careless banter about spanking has been known to get a rise out of him. The problem is, Keisha knows this, too. Tristan isn’t sure who it’s directed at, but Keisha looks annoyed for the first time since they’ve come down.

“It’s really not necessary for her to tell me, a virtual stranger, about her medical condition,” Keisha says. “I can see she’s wheelchair bound and couldn’t have possibly been the woman I saw at the mayor’s gala.”

Aimee smirks. “My legs are just as shriveled up as my left hand courtesy of a C5/6 spinal cord injury. Unless you believe I was visited upon by a temporary medical miracle, which I promptly forgot occurred... no.”

“I’m not prone to hallucination, but I did see someone who bore an uncanny resemblance to you. Now that I know without a shadow of a doubt it couldn’t have been you, I’m satisfied.” Keisha stands up.

“Must you leave so soon?” Aimee says. “I was going to get Mrs. Hathaway to bring us some refreshment.”

Keisha brandishes a polite smile. “I wouldn’t care for anything, thank you.”

Tristan stands, as well. “We should get back. Keisha has some compositions to work on this weekend no doubt, and I always have work. Check on you later?”

Aimee looks sheepish. “Not a good idea. I’m going to have an overnight guest for the next couple of days.”

Tristan’s brow rises. “Really?”

“Yes. A friend, from Lakeshore Meadows. He’s a paraplegic, but he’s got his own set of wheels since he left the rehab facility a few weeks ago.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Tristan says. For some unknown reason he feels almost paternal, oddly territorial, about Aimee getting her first visitor to the condo. “Let me know if I need to come by and lay down a few ground rules later.”

“Don’t you dare, T.X. You’d probably scare the living shit out of him.”

“If he frightens that easily, he doesn’t deserve you. What’s his name?”

“Why? So you can run a background check on him?”

Keisha who’s been sullen for the last few moments, pipes up. “He’s rather good at doing that, isn’t he?”

Tristan gives Keisha a look, but she doesn’t quail under it. In fact, she juts her chin higher. If they were in his condo, and Aimee hadn’t declared her place neutral ground, someone would be pulling a punishment card when they returned.

“It’s for your protection. He might not have use of his legs, but that doesn’t mean he’s a good guy.”

“I don’t need you to determine that for me, T.X. I might not have use of my arms and legs, but I still know a little about reading people. Go on back to your role-play weekend and let me have my benign companionship with someone more my speed these days.”

“Good idea,” Keisha says, then addresses Aimee directly. “Thank you for indulging me. Sorry to have bothered you with my peculiar sighting.”

“No problem. If I’d seen who I thought was my Dom’s former submissive, a known quadriplegic, walking around unaided, I’d want some answers, too.”

“Have a nice rest of your weekend, Aimee,” Keisha says with a smile.

Aimee smiles back. “If your big lug of a Dom allows you to, come down and see me sometime whenever you’re around.”

“Okay,” Keisha says.

“Talk to you later,” Tristan says to Aimee, then takes Keisha’s hand and heads toward the door.

Keisha attempts to slip her hand out of his, but he holds it fast. He hesitates briefly until she looks up at him, and in that moment, he knows. She’s pissed. Her hazel eyes would shoot lasers at him if it were possible.

When they emerge from Aimee’s room, Mrs. Hathaway is rummaging in a hall closet, so he can’t address Keisha’s displeasure right away.

Tristan stops, and when he still doesn’t let her hand go, Keisha stops, too.

“Mrs. Hathaway?”