Red Handed (18 page)

“Why wouldn't you hire a nurse?” She snorted. “Hell, you probably could afford your own hospital.”

“I'm not sick. Nurses are for those with an illness.”

“I don't disagree,” she said softly. “I'm sure there's a world of options for someone like you who can afford it. What does your father do?”

“He and my mom bought a small condo near the beach, and he's got one of those dogs for the blind. A golden retriever.” He laughed. “My whole childhood I wanted a dog, and they refused because Mom's allergic.”

She took his hands in hers. “We make sacrifices for the ones we love. But because of your fear, you're making a sacrifice no one expects from you.”

His brows furrowed. “Fear? Me?”

“Yes, the great and powerful Master Cole is human just like the rest of us. Asking for help doesn't make you weak.”

“I realize that.”

“No, I don't think you do.” She laid her hands on his hips and looked up at him. “Putting your faith in the hands of those you love takes strength, but giving up your dreams of having a family is cowardly.”

His face hardened. At once, she realized she'd made a detrimental mistake by accusing him of being a coward. “I'm sorry to disappoint you, but my dreams have never included marriage and kids. You being here doesn't change that.”

Like a pointed arrow, his words pierced her heart. Tears sprung to her eyes, and she immediately stepped back. “Wow. Thanks.”

He reached for her, but she sidestepped him. “Don't be like that. Stay with me—”

“Will you take me upstairs to your bed?”

“No.”

“So nothing's changed. I'm good enough to break your rules and fuck, but not enough to share who you are outside of Benediction. Then why should I bother staying? So you can fuck me once more before you send me to my room?”

Looking sheepish, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Let me take you.”

She shook her head and put up her hands in front of her as a barrier. “I can find my own way, thank you. And if not, I'll ask a slave for help. That's what they're here for, right?”

She pivoted on the balls of her bare feet and stormed out of the gallery, carefully avoiding any of the broken glass or debris from Cole's meltdown. She honestly didn't know why she bothered.

The shattered mirrors and frames' jagged edges couldn't hurt her any worse because making love to him tonight had nothing do with saving Tasha. At some unknown moment between arriving at Benediction and now, she'd fallen for him. Not the silly teenage idea of him, but the real man. But even now, after she'd given him her body and, sadly, a piece of her heart, he wouldn't take her to his residence. Her plot to seduce Cole in order to gain entrance into his private residence had backfired in more ways than one.

She only prayed that Tasha wouldn't pay for her failure.

Chapter Nineteen

H
E SCRUBBED THE
blood off his hands in the bathroom sink, still high from his climax.

The bitch hadn't cried or screamed like he preferred, but the fear in her eyes as he told her his plans for her had set him off like a grenade. This was just the stress reliever he'd needed.

No one understood what it was like for him. His wife didn't care what he did as long as he continued to pay for her glamorous lifestyle and went to church with her and the kids on Sunday morning. He loved his family so much that he'd made a pact with the devil to protect them. He'd never lay a hand on them, but a guy had to get his releases in some way, and no one missed the whores he recruited.

He'd kept his sadistic desires to a minimum over the years, but lately he'd required more. More pain. More blood. He spent hours inventing and trying out new ways to torture his sluts with electricity and especially liked using his defibrillators. Unfortunately, some of them died before he could truly enjoy them.

As he dried his hands with a towel, he wondered if there was a woman out there who would last beyond twenty-four hours of torture. Danielle's curvy body sprung to mind. All the ones he'd played with previously were thin. Perhaps someone plump like Danielle, with ample flesh over her bones, would withstand his type of play. She'd surprised him by taking to the BDSM lifestyle with enthusiasm. He'd watched the footage of her over and over, his dick getting harder each and every time.

His mouth watered. He bit into his cheek until he tasted the coppery flavor of his blood. How would Danielle taste as tears rolled down her cheeks?

It was because of Danielle that he'd been indebted to the Russian
Bratva
for eight years. Her father, James Walker, had fucked him over good. Eight years of having that psycho breathing down his neck as he tried everything in his power to get his hands on the money that James and Cole had hidden in a trust for Danielle in an offshore account. It had taken months to track down which bank he'd used and one dead bank manager to learn that the terms of the trust were ironclad. Only Danielle could claim the money, and even then, she had to be married or at least twenty-five years old. If she died before either of those conditions were met, the funds would be disbursed to charity.

All those lies James had told about losing all his clients' money. Had James and Cole really believed no one would know they'd hidden the
Bratva's
money or what lengths they'd go to get it? She didn't know it, but she owed him.

The least she could do was provide him some pleasure before he killed her.

Chapter Twenty

T
HANK GOODNESS THE
hallways were empty as Danielle headed upstairs. A few members congregated in the den, but Master Michael and Gracie had obviously cleared the area outside the gallery after Cole's breakdown.

Cole's refusal to bring Danielle to his residence after making love to her had left her feeling confused. What she felt for him was no longer a simple crush based on some chemical attraction. In only a few days, she'd grown to care for him. It made what she had to do that much harder. But even if she was here under different circumstances, the issue remained that he may have framed her father or at least let him take the fall for the crimes. Since she'd been here, he'd had plenty of chances to tell her about the box and the account. The fact that he hadn't told her she wasn't the only one keeping secrets.

The dungeon's music vibrated under her feet, and what she now recognized as the scent of sex hit her nose. The club would still be open for a few hours, and for a moment, she considered going up to check out the fantasy rooms. She wanted to lose herself in someone else's life like she did when she read a book. But instead, she let her feet take her upstairs to her room.

Danielle unlocked her door, stepped inside, and flipped on the lights.

A note rested on her pillow.

Her heart raced as she scanned the room for anything else that was out of place. Spotting nothing, she checked inside the closet, in the bathroom, and under her bed to ensure no one was hiding. Once she was satisfied she was alone, she picked up the typewritten note.

She lifted her nose to the paper. Someone had sprayed her perfume on it.

For some reason, it felt like an even greater violation than having her room broken into.

Her hands trembled as she read the note.
There's always a risk to love, and now you have two lives to save. You have twenty-four hours to get us the account information or not only will you lose your stepmother, we'll kill your lover, Cole DeMarco. Remember, we have eyes and ears everywhere at Benediction. If you tell anyone about this, they'll both die.

How did they know Cole and she had become lovers tonight? Her stomach sank. Cole hadn't turned off the video cameras inside the gallery. Any of the dungeon monitors viewing the screens would have witnessed their lovemaking. As she'd suspected, that meant whoever was working with the kidnappers was someone Cole trusted completely.

What was she going to do now that he still wouldn't bring her to his residence? She'd have to drug him while they were in the club, steal his keys, and hope the dungeon monitors sitting in the screening room wouldn't stop her from going upstairs. It was a terrible plan, but what other choice did she have?

She startled as her cell phone blared.

The note wasn't enough for them? They had to make certain she was thoroughly threatened?

She checked the cell's screen and sighed in relief at the sight of Roman's phone number. She answered, trying to sound relaxed. “Roman. How are you?”

“I'm good. Listen, I've been trying to get ahold of Mother for the last couple of days. Have you seen her?”

“No, I've been out of the house.” She cringed. No way would he believe that. He knew her better than anyone.

Luckily, he didn't seem to notice. “I'm worried. She missed our weekly phone call, and that's not like her.”

She waved her hand even though he couldn't see her. “Maybe she's busy planning one of her fundraisers. You know how she gets. I'm sure she'll get around to calling you when she gets a free moment.”

“I suppose. When she gets home, will you tell her to phone me to put my mind at ease?”

Her throat grew thick. “I . . . ”

“Danielle, what are you not saying? And don't lie to me.”

She buried her face in her hand. She'd have to come clean, at least enough to explain why she hadn't seen Tasha. “I'm not at home.”

“You mean right now?”

She blew out a breath, knowing what her words would do to Roman. “Right now and . . . I'm in Michigan.”

“Michigan?” His voice rose. “What the hell for?” He sighed when she didn't answer. “Tell me you're not trying to prove Cole DeMarco framed your father.”

Of course that's what he believed. How many nights had she spent with Roman, cursing Cole and vowing revenge against him? Roman had finally convinced her that without evidence, she had to move on with her life.

Telling Roman about his mother would put them all in danger. “I have to do this. I have no choice.”

“We all have choices, Danielle. And you've obviously made yours. I suppose this means you've also made your decision regarding us?”

Even if her feelings for Cole hadn't developed, she'd never feel anything romantic toward Roman. “You know I love you, but as a friend. That's never going to change.”

He sighed. “I understand. Truth be told, I feel the same.” A pregnant silence followed. “You said you're in Michigan. Where are you staying?”

Damn the man for being so intuitive.

“I'm staying at Cole's.”

“At a sex club, you mean. An innocent like you does not belong in a place like that. What are you thinking? Do you know what happens there?”

She almost laughed at his brotherly concern for her innocence. “Roman, I wish I could explain, but I can't. This is something I need to do, and someday I'll tell you why, but for now, you have to trust me.”

“Are you . . . ?”

“I'm learning about BDSM,” she admitted, flinching over the discussion of her sex life. “Pretend I'm going back to school.”

“Cole DeMarco is a dangerous man. There are things you don't know about him.”

Shock coursed through her. “How would you know anything about him that I don't?”

“After your father's death, I had him investigated.” He waited a beat. “DeMarco's got ties to the mafia.”

She couldn't believe it. She didn't believe it. “Just because he's wealthy and partly from Italian descent doesn't mean—”

“One of his club members, Anthony Rinaldi, is a notorious crime boss who's under investigation for money laundering, prostitution, drugs, and murder.”

That she
could
believe. With only a look, Rinaldi had made her skin crawl. He was the only person she'd met at Benediction who didn't seem as if he belonged. He clearly refused to follow the rules, and there was definitely animosity between him and Cole. As before, she questioned why Cole allowed him to remain a member. She knew there was a reason, but she'd never believe Cole would willingly have anything to do with the mafia.

“That's horrible, but it has nothing to do with Cole,” she said, unable to prevent her voice from shaking.

“Rinaldi was one of your father's clients. You don't find that an awful coincidence? The man who turns over evidence to the feds just happens to be friendly with one of the people who your father allegedly stole from? All I'm saying is to be careful. I realize you're a grown woman, but I think you're in over your head. Why don't you go home and, if it's still important to you when I get back, we'll talk about how to work together to bring down DeMarco. Sound good?”

She closed her eyes. “Sure.”

“Shit, I've known you long enough to know it means you're not gonna listen. Just promise me you'll stay safe, yeah?”

“I promise, Roman.”

Thank goodness he was in Russia. For some reason, the kidnappers had never mentioned him. They must have waited for him to go out of town as part of their plan. She was never as grateful as now for the job that took him away from her for weeks at a time.

“You call me if anything comes up you can't handle, and I'll fly back in a heartbeat,” he said. “And, Danielle, if you speak with Mom, tell her to pick up the damned phone and call me before I call the National Guard on her ass.”

A twinge of guilt panged in her chest. “You got it.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.” She disconnected the call and stared at the note on her lap.

“Not five minutes after we make love, and you're sending your love to your fiancé,” Cole said from the doorway.

How long had he been listening, and how had she not heard him enter?

She crumbled the letter in her hand and shoved it under her pillow. “I've told you. He's not my fiancé. And don't ever come into my room again without knocking first.”