The Pleasures of Autumn (10 page)

Niall needed to find her before Hall did.

As the taxi picked its way through the rain-soaked Paris streets, Sinead couldn’t get Gabriel’s words out of her head. Spank her? He wouldn’t dare.

‘Nervous,
chérie
?’

The amusement in his voice made her yearn to slap him. Maybe she had sadistic tendencies after all. She hoped that Roisin was the same. ‘I’m fine. So what’s the plan when we get there?’

‘We will make a little tour, let people know that you have arrived and then we will go to the bar and wait.’

‘Wait for what?’

‘For one of your sister’s playmates to come to us.’

The taxi pulled up outside the neon-lit theatre. Gabriel paid him and they stepped out of the car. A burly security guard nodded to him and they passed the queue of customers and were ushered into the lobby.

Sinead had been expecting something seedy – she had performed in her own share of dumps when she was starting out as a dancer, but this place was more like a five-star hotel. A matching pair of cantilevered staircases led to a bar on the upper level, while the ground floor entrance to the circus ring was flanked by midnight-blue velvet curtains.

A bare-breasted woman on a unicycle distributed glasses of champagne. Sinead nodded her thanks and swallowed hers in two gulps.

She might have been wearing more clothing than some of the other women, but her waist-length red hair, which Gabriel had insisted she tie up in a long ponytail, was attracting attention.

‘Come,
chérie
,’ he whispered. ‘Let’s see what’s going on in the ring.’

A masked Pierrot drew back the curtain and they moved inside.

Sweet Sodom and Gomorrah. Sinead bit her tongue to stop herself whistling. She had been to plenty of burlesque clubs, but this was like no circus she had ever seen.

Above the crowd, two naked men and a woman performed a trapeze routine. In the centre of the performance area, a ringmaster displayed a skill with a single-tail whip that was mesmerizing. Instead of bursting the strategically placed balloons around a naked woman, he struck the woman while avoiding the balloons.

An announcement came over the PA and the crowd cheered. ‘You’ll enjoy this,’ Gabriel murmured. ‘Pony girls.’

‘You’re kidding me!’ she hissed.

The team of six were tall, blonde and wore nothing but white feathered headdresses and long tails. ‘Please don’t tell me that the tails are …’

‘Attached to their butt-plugs,’ Gabriel confirmed as they watched the ‘ponies’ being put through their paces by their ‘trainer’ before leaving the arena. ‘Let’s go check out the rest.’

With her smile frozen in place, Sinead followed him. The risqué circus had no performing animals, but women and men sat in cages in the waiting area, eager to perform
for their audience. Gabriel patted the head of a girl wearing nothing but a leopard-skin collar and she purred loudly.

A trio of acrobats played in a smaller ring, their skin glistening with sweat as they brought the female artiste to a shrieking orgasm that drew a round of applause from the observers. Sinead pressed her thighs together. Despite the talcum powder she had dusted inside her leather suit, a trickle of sweat ran down her back. How could the woman have an orgasm in public with people watching her?

She could barely have one in private.

Gabriel was her closest friend and one-time lover, but even with him she still found it difficult to let go. Despite having appeared almost nude on stage many times, she found it hard to relax and, unless a lover was particularly patient, she was sometimes left edgy and unsatisfied. She felt a small pang of jealousy at the obvious abandonment of the woman.

Even her short time with Niall had been a revelation. His touch, his kisses had made her fly apart. She wondered what it would have been like to spend the night with him. She pushed the thought away. Now she would never know.

The crowd dispersed, splitting into pairs and making their way to the stables. Soft moans and an occasional grunt of pleasure left her in no doubt as to what went on behind the half doors and bales of hay.

‘Does this turn you on,
chérie
? Do you want to see more?’ Gabriel’s dark eyes were intent on her face. His mouth twitched. He was daring her to say no.

Sinead swallowed. She might never get to see anything like this again and if she was completely honest, her curiosity had been aroused. ‘Lead the way.’

The wooden door opened with an authentic creak and they walked the length of the stable block. Some of the stalls were empty, but the tack that hung on the walls was definitely not designed with horses in mind. Role-play costumes hung from a chrome rail.

Sinead watched as a naughty milkmaid was spanked over her master’s knee. Her wriggling and squeals had attracted quite an audience until the sound of a whip hissing through the air and striking flesh caught their attention.

Gabriel nodded and they moved away from the crowd and followed the sound. A half-naked man was tied to a whipping post and she tried not to wince as the whip’s tail struck home with precision again and again. As the leather-clad Domme worked, red marks appeared, criss-crossing the man’s back, but she was careful never to draw blood. The blonde crossed the floor to the man and pulled his head back by the hair before whispering in his ear. He nodded and she resumed his punishment.

‘Do you think you could do that?’ Gabriel whispered. ‘Because if things go well tonight, you might have to.’

Sinead sucked in a mouthful of air, drawing in the sweet scent of hay mixed with sweat and arousal. Apart from the illusion on stage, she had never struck another person in her life. ‘I don’t know if I could hurt you.’

He smiled. ‘Coming from you, it would only give me pleasure. Let’s go to the bar and see if we can find you a playmate.’

The glass floor in the bar allowed the audience to see
what was going on in the ring below and Sinead realized why Gabriel had taken her for a tour. Even though she hadn’t played, she had been on display. She hoped that someone would take the bait.

Projecting a confidence she didn’t feel, Sinead sipped champagne at the bar while Gabriel pretended that he wasn’t scanning the crowd. A young American approached them, the neat folds in his surgeon’s tunic marking him as a newbie. Gabriel bristled, as if affronted by his stupidity, and the man scurried away.

The Doms were more difficult. Without knowing whether her sister was a sub or Domme, Sinead didn’t know how to behave when a questioning glance was aimed in her direction. She kept her expression slightly bored, hoping it would be enough.

‘
Roz? Mon Dieu. Roz.
’ The blonde Domme from the stables enveloped her in a hug.

Without thinking, Sinead switched to French. ‘
Oui, c’est moi.
’ Well, at least that solved one problem. Now that she knew her sister spoke French, she wouldn’t have to worry about betraying herself with her Irish accent.

‘Clothilde was expecting you two weeks ago,’ the blonde said. ‘She had to cancel a femdom party because Megan dislocated her shoulder during a Shibari suspension and you didn’t show.’

Oh, feck.
Her sister was a Domme.

The blonde darted an interested glance at Gabriel who immediately looked to Sinead for guidance.

‘I haven’t seen you train a new one for a while,’ the blonde continued. ‘How is he behaving?’

‘Not bad,’ Sinead admitted in a grudging tone as she
ruffled Gabriel’s hair. ‘Most of the time he’s a sweetheart, but he needs a firm hand.’

‘Don’t they all?’ She sighed in sympathy. ‘It’s hard to get a decent slave and the place is crawling with wannabes. I suppose I better get back to work.’

She slid off her barstool. ‘Clothilde’s not around tonight and we’re a bit short staffed. You’ll have to do a demo scene.’

‘Sure,’ Sinead nodded, trying not to let the shock show on her face. ‘Let’s get together later and catch up. I really need to find some work. I don’t suppose there are any parties happening soon?’

The blonde threw back her head and laughed. ‘You are such a joker. Hermione’s party starts on Friday. Surely you haven’t forgotten the biggest event of the year?’

‘Sorry, I’ve been travelling. You know what it’s like.’ Sinead shrugged.

‘Where are you staying? I’ll get the office to send a courier with another invite.’

Sinead scribbled Gabriel’s address on a napkin and handed it over.

‘Great,’ the blonde said, and she tucked the napkin into her cleavage. ‘I’ll let the ringmaster know that you’re going on. I’ll see you in the performance area in ten minutes.’

Sinead stared after her as she moved through the crowd. In ten minutes she would give her first performance as a Domme. What on earth was she going to do?

What the hell was Cirque Noir? Niall checked again, but that was definitely what Sinead had been looking up. He did a quick search and was appalled. Why would a respectable museum curator be checking out one of the kinkiest shows in Paris? Hell, in Europe. From the look of it, Cirque was hardcore and people travelled for thousands of miles to attend. Why would a woman who owned one small vibrator and a handful of racy novels want to go there? Sinead O’Sullivan didn’t have a kinky bone in her body. There weren’t even any nipple clamps in her apartment.

Those nipples should have nipple clamps on them. They jutted out proudly, begging for someone to tease and torture them. He would suck them, lick and kiss until they were stiff and erect, then catch one and …

Niall stopped that train of thought. Why did everything bring him back to the fantasies of things he wanted to do to Sinead O’Sullivan? Not sweet vanilla fantasies either. All his dark urges rose up when he imagined her naked. What was it about her that called to his most dangerous instincts?

There was a reason he didn’t do serious relationships. He could fake vanilla for a while, but, sooner or later, his urge to dominate would rise and he would have to fight to repress it.

Sometimes he wished he were smaller, weaker. The trouble about being built like a Viking was that he was too strong. His Ranger training had only made it worse. He was all too aware of how dangerous he could be if he lost control. Deep inside, he was scared that if he relaxed, he could be worse than Darren Hall. He needed someone who was his equal, and what were the odds of ever meeting someone like that?

Fuck this, he had a bail jumper to catch, and before that bastard Hall did.

Niall looked at the posters for Cirque Noir and despite himself, his cock twitched. God, it looked like an orgy of wall-to-wall kink. Women in PVC. Women in corsets. Women wearing damn all. One old poster caught his eye – a masked red-haired girl in a tight leather suit, holding a bullwhip in a businesslike way. There was something about those eyes that looked familiar.

No, it couldn’t possibly be Sinead. The O’Sullivans would have a collective heart attack at the idea of one of their family being involved in something like this. He checked the date of that event. It was two years ago, when Sinead had been working at Sotheby’s. Of course it wasn’t her.

For a moment, he considered her crazy story about a twin. An identical twin that she hadn’t seen for twenty-three years and that no one ever talked about. It was such an extraordinary story that he hadn’t considered if it might be true. Who would make up a story like that and have any hope of being believed? It was complete nonsense. And yet something made him wonder.

He typed a quick order to his Irish office, telling them to check it out.

Niall went back to the Cirque Noir website. There was a show on tonight. He’d missed most of it, but perhaps if he hurried he might catch the end.

‘Relax,
chérie
.’ Gabriel put his hand on her shoulder. ‘You’ve done this a million times.’

‘Not for real. And have you forgotten? We need a third for this routine.’

‘
Pas de problème
. I know a little kitten who will be just perfect.’

The next ten minutes were the most nerve-wracking of her life. Leopard girl was amenable to joining them for the routine. She was eager to play with Gabriel later. The ringmaster, an amiable man from Picardie, organized some appropriate music.

Sinead stood at the edge of the ring, watching as the props were placed where she directed. It would be a demonstration, but probably not the kind that the audience were used to at Cirque. She closed her eyes, wiping her mind of stray thoughts, inviting the calmness to descend. The opening bars of the Argentine tango floated in the air and the audience fell silent.

Gabriel, deliciously inappropriate as ever, had borrowed a waiter’s jacket, leaving it open to expose his tanned chest. Leopard girl – thankfully wearing something resembling a dress – sat at the small white-clothed table in the centre of the ring, looking suitably bored. He stalked to her table and tilted her chair backwards before lowering his face to hers for an open-mouthed kiss.

Balanced precariously on the chair, Leopard girl could
do nothing but submit to his ever bolder embraces. Sinead raised an eyebrow. Gabriel was enjoying this far too much. Slowly, he raised the chair to an upright position and pivoted around her, blocking her flight. Sinead doubted that Leopard girl really wanted to escape. When she stood up, Gabriel closed the distance between them. With languid grace, he leaned back across the table, pulling the girl on top of him.

It was time for Sinead to make her entrance.

As the music swelled, she stepped into the ring. A single crack of her whip caught Gabriel’s attention and the audience cheered. Releasing the girl, he turned to face Sinead, the picture of an unfaithful lover caught in the act.

She flicked her whip again, catching him on the calf this time. The sound of leather against latex was impossibly loud in the silent ring. Leopard girl fled.

Gabriel eased out of his white jacket, letting it drop to the ground before approaching her slowly, his hands outstretched.

Bad mistake. This lady didn’t do forgiveness. Sinead flicked her whip again. It curled through the air and wrapped around his forearm. She tugged sharply, dragging him to his knees. She was conscious of the cheers of the audience as she stalked towards him with the whip held casually in her hand.

Usually she held back, barely touching his skin, but tonight she would have to go for it if she was to convince anyone that she was Roz. Gabriel held out his arm and she unwound the whip slowly. She caught the hint of a grin. He was actually enjoying this. Maybe she should hit him harder.

She circled him before reaching out and fisting her
hand in his hair as she had seen the blonde woman do earlier. ‘Are you okay with this?’ she whispered in his ear. ‘This is a heavier whip than the one I use on stage. I’m afraid that I’ll hurt you.’

‘Bring it on.’

‘Cocky bastard.’ She almost smiled and then schooled her face into a stern expression. Lover boy was going to be punished. She picked up a flail in her left hand and danced it over the bare skin of his back, alternating soothing strokes with light bee stings.

‘You hit like a girl,
chérie
,’ Gabriel murmured under his breath. ‘Just do it.’

As if impatient, Sinead cast the flail aside and the audience cheered. It was time to take the gloves off. She prayed that she wouldn’t lose her nerve. A practised flick of her wrist brought the tail of the whip to within inches of him and he flinched. Too short. The handle felt awkward in her grip. She adjusted, took a step forwards and raised her arm again. Success. A red stripe formed on his back and the crowd gasped.

After that she found her rhythm. She aimed for his upper back, taking care to avoid his kidneys. His grunts of pain spurred the audience on. She hoped that he was pretending, but the criss-cross pattern was testament to the pain she must be causing him. He cried out again, but this time his groan was tinged with pleasure.

Was he actually enjoying this?

As the music drew to a close she cast her whip aside. She tried not to wince as she closed in on him and saw the state of his back. She had really done a number on him. That would hurt like hell tomorrow. She grabbed his hair
again and forced him to look at her. Her apology for the pain she had caused him froze on her lips.

His eyes gleamed with enjoyment rather than pain. A bad slave brought to heel by his mistress. She released his hair and he fell forwards, placing a kiss on her boot as the music ended. The spotlight dimmed. The crowd cheered. Sinead strode from the ring as if she owned it, leaving Gabriel to collect her whip and flail.

She was going to be sick.

Niall arrived at Cirque as it was closing up for the night. He managed to get in, but no one was keen to talk to him since he was delaying their departure. He kept going, showing the photo of Sinead to the bored and tired staff members who were cleaning up.

Just when he thought he was going to have to leave without any result, one of the cleaners blinked at the photo. ‘That’s a new look for her.’

‘You know her?’ Niall tightened his grip on the photo when the cleaner tried to take it off him.

‘Sure. Well, I do not know her name, but I’ve seen her here a few times. She’s good. She did a really hot scene here tonight. She –’

Niall cut him off before he could go into details. ‘Where can I find her?’

The cleaner scratched his head. ‘I don’t know the name of the man she was with.’

What man? It hadn’t taken her long to find herself a man. A red mist descended over Niall’s vision and he had
to take deep breaths to hold onto his temper. He wasn’t going to pound this little bollix to a pulp.

The cleaner, unaware of his danger, went on. ‘But Madeleine was also in their scene, she might know.’

‘And what is Madeleine’s name? Where can I find her?’

The cleaner shrugged. ‘She’s Madeleine. Someone will know.’

It was 7.30 a.m. when Niall managed to find Gabriel Bertrand’s apartment in Montparnasse. He had been up all night, chasing one insubstantial lead after another, before he finally got a name and address.

He rang, leaning heavily on the doorbell. After the time he’d spent searching, he was not inclined to let Sinead sleep in. And if she was sleeping with this Gabriel character, he’d enjoy rousting her out of bed even more.

The bell rang and rang, and there was no sound of movement inside. He jabbed it, deliberately trying to be as noisy and annoying as possible. Nothing.

Well, they had asked for it. He bent to the lock to pick it and noticed faint scratches on the metal. It could be nothing, maybe wear and tear, but his gut iced.

Quickly he unlocked the door and thrust it open. A scene of devastation met his eyes. The room had been turned upside down, and the furniture was tossed in all directions. Cushions were ripped open, and the stuffing was a layer of white over the room.

There was no sign of Sinead. Carefully, trying not to disturb the apartment in any way, Niall picked his way through it, looking for clues. It was clear that a man lived
here, one with a taste for designer clothes and hand-made shoes. These were scattered all over the main bedroom.

In a small side room, a camp bed had been made up, and Niall spotted a long strand of red hair on the ripped pillow. He breathed a little deeper. It was ridiculous. The apartment had been ransacked and the occupants had been taken away after a struggle, but all he was worrying about was where Sinead had slept.

He pulled out his phone. ‘Andy? Get over here as soon as possible. Sinead has been abducted.’

While he waited for McTavish to get there, he examined the apartment more thoroughly and wondered whether to call the Gendarmerie.

His first impulse was to get all the help he could for her, even if it meant telling them that she had stolen the Fire of Autumn. But he had an ugly suspicion that he knew who was behind the abduction. If it was really Darren Hall with his shadowy connections, then alerting the authorities might be the quickest way to sign her death warrant.

Carefully, he examined the apartment, looking for clues to what had happened. The furniture was older than he was, but lovingly maintained. Too many clothes and far too much beauty product for a heterosexual man – at least in Niall’s opinion. What kind of man needed four bottles of hair gel? And three different kinds of deodorant? Something on the bedroom floor glittered – a broken gold chain. Not a robbery then.

He noticed several pictures torn from their frames. One featured a grey-haired couple. Three others were of a handsome, dark-haired man – presumably Bertrand –
with his arms around Lottie LeBlanc. That didn’t endear him to Niall at all. He still had vivid memories of Lottie’s last performance. Of the way she had looked directly at him as she had peeled off that scrap of a stocking. Of the way she had kissed her fingers at him, holding his eyes as she had lifted her body towards him.