Flashback (4 page)

Joanna felt a trickle of dread. “What do you
mean?”

“It means that I’m going to train you to be a
dominatrix. If all goes well, it should take about a week. That’ll
give Mike time to worry, maybe even regret his choice before we
make it all better again.”

“But how will I be able to dominate him? That
time, he was asleep and I surprised him. How will I even get into
the house without him knowing?”

“We’ll do it together. I’ll get you into the
house, and I’ll help you take him down. Once he’s at your mercy,
I’ll leave him to you.”

Joanna felt her eyes narrow. “There has to be
a catch.”

“Can’t you just trust me?”

Joanna gave Eric a look that spoke volumes.
“Tell me what’s in it for you.”

“You think I’m a mercenary. That hurts,
Joanna.” He clutched at his heart, as if mortally offended, then
sobered when Joanna remained skeptical. He sat on the edge of the
bed and bounced a bit, as if they were allies. His erection was
much smaller, which was a good sign in Joanna’s opinion. “Okay,
consider this. Mike and I are old buddies. We are good buds. The
best kind of buds. We go way back. You don’t get a lot of friends
like that in life, and I don’t want to lose the one I have.”

“I’d never have thought you were
sentimental.”

“I’m not, but I don’t trust easily. The proof
of that trust is that he shared you with
me
. Mike trusts me.
If you want to save your relationship, then you have to trust me,
too.”

“It’s counter-intuitive,” Joanna argued. “I
don’t think you’re trustworthy at all.”

Eric laughed. “But there has to be some
spice, Joanna. Without a bit of risk, life is just bland. Isn’t the
future you want worth taking a chance?”

He was right. His words made Joanna think of
how she had started on this adventure, how she had taken the chance
of going inside the Plume. She’d taken a risk and discovered more
about herself. She’d also been able to begin a relationship with
Mike as a result of that risk and that knowledge.

And she wanted to keep her relationship with
Mike.

That was the moment Joanna knew she had no
choice. The only way forward - and potentially back to Mike - was
to agree to Eric’s terms. She had to become a dominatrix. The idea
was thrilling, in a surprising way. It
had
been exciting to
have Mike at her mercy, to surprise him and dominate him. She
wanted to know more.

Not as a routine thing, but just to mix it up
once in a while.

But she was still wary. “Just tell me one
thing,” she said. “What exactly is in it for you?”

“You know me so well already. It’s like
kismet.” Eric bent down and kissed her quickly, but Joanna turned
her face so that his lips landed on her cheek. She saw the
immediate effect upon his erection.

Submission turned him on. So long as she was
defiant and opinionated, he wouldn’t want her. Once again, she felt
powerful, even in her bonds, and aware that she controlled part of
what happened between them.

And that was reassuring.

“I’m paying off an old debt.” His expression
turned wicked. “Just recognize that if you want to reward your
helpful assistant, I won’t have any trouble with that.”

“My choice,” Joanna said flatly, well aware
that she was still captive. Her tone was deliberately hard, though,
and she saw how that affected Eric’s mood. “If we do anything, it
has to be because I choose it.”

“Your choice,” he agreed with a sigh. Eric
surveyed her once more, then shook his head in mock dismay. “You
look so great. I’m a fucking saint,” he muttered, then reached to
unfasten her bonds.

“I didn’t think there were any fucking
saints,” Joanna said, feeling bold in her new optimism.

Eric laughed. “I should spank you for that
impertinence.”

“But it would have to be my choice.” Joanna
reminded him and he grimaced. “I’m thinking I should spank you for
tying me down.”

Eric shuddered. “That’s the spirit. But I
wonder what I’ve let myself in for.” He unlocked her shackles and
helped her to her feet.

“What next?” Joanna asked. “How do we
start?”

Eric held up a finger. “First, we go
shopping.”

“What for?”

“You’ll need a new outfit as Mistress
Joanna.” He sighed. “And then I’ll have to teach you about
dominating a man. I don’t think it’s going to come naturally to
you.”

“You don’t look very disappointed by
that.”

“I’m hoping you can’t manage it at all.” He
winked at her, more trouble than any man she’d ever known. “That
you’ll beg to return to the tried and true. Then you’ll be stuck
with me.”

Joanna didn’t believe that would happen. She
knew she could manage Eric, just with her tone and her attitude.
And Eric held the key to her getting through to Mike.

“Is there a shop Mike prefers? They’ll have
your sizes and we’ll be able to get this solved quickly.”

“But I don’t have any cash,” Joanna
protested, then had an idea. “This should be your treat, shouldn’t
it?”

Eric ran a hand through his hair and gave her
a pained look. “Don’t tell me that you’re commanding me to
pay.”

Joanna smiled.

“This do-gooder shit keeps getting more
expensive, doesn’t it? All right, one costume, one week training,
one takedown, then you’re on your own.”

“Deal,” Joanna said and offered her hand.

“That’s not very submissive,” Eric noted and
she smiled.

“I’m a dominatrix in training now.”

“You’re learning fast. But I should tell you
that you just became one third as sexy. What a waste.” He might be
complaining, but Joanna sensed it was a token protest. She’d
already been ousted from his affections - and she could keep it
that way by being bossy, defiant and demanding.

It would be easy.

She dared to imagine having Mike at her mercy
all over again and shivered in anticipation.

* * *

Rex dreams of Joanna.

He’s in the high school cafeteria, in the
midst of the interview with her for the school newspaper. He is
still Reginald, but already he knows he will change his name as
soon as he can. He has begun to quietly work out in his parents’
basement, hiding the emerging strength of his body behind his baggy
clothes.

But Joanna. Joanna interviewing him! His
heart is pounding and his tongue feels thick in his mouth. She is
smart but quiet, more beautiful than people realize. In social
situations, she hides behind her bangs, her shyness tearing at his
heart - but when she has a chance to be judged by her intellect,
she shines.

And that’s where he sees his connection with
her. He dreams of a future with her, with beautiful smart Joanna, a
future in which his photographs change the world and she adores him
as much as he loves her. In that future, he is Rex. In that dream,
he and Joanna alone are destined for great things, while all the
others in their school will meander through their lives and
accomplish little of importance.

He can’t wait for the future to begin.

But he is still Reginald, still a loser,
still astonished to have been singled out for the photography
award, still unable to make a coherent answer in her presence. He’s
overwhelmed by her attention. He could barely answer when Joanna
asked to interview him. Now he sits across from her, awed. Her
precision with language and her drive make him feel so far beneath
her that his fantasy can’t possibly come true.

Even when she interviews him - unaware of how
he adores her - she blushes as she asks each question. She bites
her lip with such concentration that he wants to lean over and
nibble on her mouth himself.

The idea gives him a hard on and he has a
more difficult time focusing on her questions. He watches her,
painfully aware that he is not rising to the occasion - except in
one way - and fears that his dream is shattering. His heart breaks
a little more with every reply he mumbles, with every expression of
disappointment from her. When she closes her notebook and leaves
with a polite farewell, he is devastated.

But his love is true. She is perfect and he
will adore her forever.

No matter what the cost.

* * *

Rex awakened suddenly, momentarily
disoriented and feeling strangely unsettled. The interior of the
private jet was done in shades of blue and silver, tasteful and
cool, with leather upholstery and every amenity. The front part of
the cabin was configured with pairs of chairs facing each other,
creating four conversation areas with tables in the middle of two
of them. There was a kitchen and several well-appointed bathrooms
in the middle - including a shower - then doors hid the back of the
cabin. There was no cabin crew on this particular flight and the
night was dark beyond the windows. He could still smell smoke on
his clothes.

Then he remembered. The Plume was gone.

He could hardly believe it. Even though he’d
been there, it seemed like a bad dream. That he’d had to torch it
himself was the worst part. There was no choice, not really. He’d
had to destroy the Plume or see its members destroyed. Rex could
never do that, no matter what the price to himself.

But the Plume. He had built it so carefully,
and loved it so much.

Gone.

How had the police discovered their location?
He’d always been so careful. He’d have to ask Julius, maybe call
the lawyer from a pay phone to find out what he knew. Rafe had
accused Athena, but Rex was skeptical. They’d known each other a
long time. They’d trusted each other a long time. They’d argued,
but he couldn’t believe that would undermine everything they’d
achieved together.

He couldn’t imagine that she would sacrifice
the Plume, no matter how pissed off she was with him. It was her
creation, too.

Still, he’d lost the Plume and Joanna, too.
The moment he’d tried to achieve his dream with the show of his
photographs, everything had gone to shit. Had Athena been right?
Had he pushed too far? And where was Athena? He hoped like hell
she’d not gone back to the club that night, that she’d stayed away
after their argument. At least he’d destroyed the records and wiped
the hard drives. At least he’d protected them all that much.

What was his future without the Plume?

His throat tight, Rex looked down at Leya.
She dozed beside him, her head on his shoulder. His heart swelled
with gratitude.

She’d helped him work past his fear of being
out of control.

Then she’d saved his ass.

She’d not only brought Rafe and the limo, but
had gotten him out of town.

“It pays to have friends in high places,” had
been the only explanation she would give for their luxurious
ride.

He’d never had anyone defend his back as well
as Leya had. He’d never had anyone take his side or ensure his
safety. When he was devastated and overwhelmed, she was the one who
thought of practicalities. She was the one who had told him to cut
up his credit cards and scatter the pieces on the streets. She was
the one who had told him not to go home, not to log in to his
email, not to try to get his Jeep back. He had his laptop, but he
still hadn’t turned it on. She had a friend in San Francisco who
would check it out for him, she said, a friend who could be trusted
to ensure that Rex couldn’t be traced somehow by his computer.

She protected him the way he protected
others. It was such a relief to be in her presence and her care. In
a way, they were two of a kind - but she had anticipated more than
he had. She’d already had a second identity prepared, one she’d
never used, one that couldn’t be traced back to her first life. She
pulled out identification and credit cards, ensuring their escape
and making Rex feel - for once in his life - as if he had failed to
adequately anticipate every eventuality.

She’d saved him. And all she asked for in
exchange was to be with him, maybe tie him up once in a while. Even
the bondage was a gift to him, as it helped to free him from his
demons. All this and she was making him whole again.

She was an angel of mercy.

Rex watched her awaken and knew he’d done her
a disservice. He’d adored Joanna, who didn’t love him. He should
return Leya’s affection and reciprocate in kind, before she decided
he didn’t love her and abandoned him.

She was his future.

Rex bent and brushed his lips across her
temple. She smiled up at him, and stretched languidly.

“Feel better?” she asked with a coy
smile.

That smile gave Rex ideas.

“I would, if there was some rope on
board.”

Just as he’d hoped, her smile turned playful.
“Any particular specifications?”

“Maybe about as wide as my thumb. Maybe
wrapped in black leather. I’ve always thought it would suit you
best.” He smiled at her, knowing she would remember what he’d said
about binding her with that kind of rope. “What kind of friend do
you have in this high place?”

Leya’s smile turned mysterious. “One I think
you would like very much.”

“How so?”

“You both have similar tastes.” She took his
hand and tugged him to his feet, leading him toward the back of the
jet. She opened the door and revealed a bedroom, dominated by a
large bed covered by a silver satin spread. At the nearest end of
the room was a high table, covered in leather and padded. There was
a throw at the bottom of the bed made of what looked like white
fur, soft enough and deep enough that his hand disappeared into it.
Fox, maybe. The bed was a four poster, with a heavy iron frame. Rex
tested its strength without thinking and Leya smiled when his brows
rose.

She released his hand and went to a line of
storage cabinets on one side of the cabinet. She threw the lids
open on them in succession, inventorying their contents as she
proceeded. “Ribbon, rope, twine, jute, leather bonds, chains,
shackles, handcuffs, gags, blindfolds, hoods.” She pivoted to face
him. “Name your poison.”