Passion's Hope (The Doms of Passion Lake Book 3) (34 page)

And that’s how they fell asleep

* * * *

“No. Absolutely not! I can’t wear that! This is
court
, for God’s sake! In front of a Grand Jury!”

“Well, it’s not like they’re going to
see
it, sweet thing,” Jay said, trying to be reasonable. “They’ll never even know you’re wearing it.”

“
I’ll
know!”

They had just gotten out of the shower and Charlie was blow-drying her hair, while Jay had just ordered her to bend over the bathroom counter so he could insert the plug. “I just gave you a direct order, little sub,” he said, injecting a sternness into his voice she’d never heard before. “Are you disobeying a direct order from your Dom?”

Charlie opened her mouth to deny it, but she realized that that was
exactly
what she was doing, so she shut it again. It was too early to argue. It wasn’t even six A. M. It was still dark out, for crying out loud!

Nik merely stood leaning against the door frame, arms folded across his chest, one booted ankle crossed over the other, watching the two of them duke it out.

“C’mon, baby, it’s little. You’ll hardly feel it. After a while you’ll totally forget you’re even wearing it. You liked it last night,” he pointed out.

“Last night I was in a sexual situation with the two men I lo—I mean, the two of you”—
Geez! I hope they didn’t catch that slip of the tongue
—“in the privacy of our bedroom. I wasn’t out in public, surrounded by people, walking around and sitting and having to think and be alert. This”—she waved her hand vaguely toward the silver plug—“would be so distracting, I can’t even begin to explain it! I’d never be able to focus on my testimony.” She looked over at Nik, eyes flickering with anxiety. “Daddy, please…”

Straightening from the door frame, Nik strode across the room and held his hand out for the plug. Jay dropped it into his palm.

“All right,
malyutka
, we will not require you to wear the plug this morning. However, there
will
be consequences as a result of your outright defiance.”

Uh-oh.
She bit her lip. “You mean…like a spanking?”

Nik’s smile was enigmatic. “Oh, there are far worse punishments than a spanking,
myshka.
I’m sure we’ll come up with something suitably diabolical. Something that will have you begging to be allowed to wear a plug no matter where you plan to be.”

She thought she’d be happy when it became obvious that he wasn’t angry. But she wasn’t happy because he was something much, much worse than angry. He was disappointed. And that made her want to cry. She bit her lip. “I’m sorry, Daddy. So, what should I have done?”

“You should have used your safe word. Yellow. That’s what they’re for. They exist for situations just like this. If you had said, ‘Yellow’, we could have discussed this calmly and rationally like reasonable adults and come to an acceptable compromise.”

“I keep forgetting about those,” she confessed. “I’m sorry I disappointed you, Daddy.”

“I am too,
myshka.
” Seeing the tears swimming in her eyes, he pulled her to him and planted a kiss on her mouth. “But once your punishment is over and you are suitably chastened, all will be forgiven. And we’ll have a bit of fun.” He kissed her forehead and released her with a little push. “Now, go get dressed, so we can go upstairs and get some breakfast before we hit the road.”

She smiled up at him, relieved when he smiled back.

Nik and Jay had their usual gigantic meal, although Charlie was way too nervous to have more than toast and orange juice. Watching Nik and Jay pack away the eggs, sausage, bacon, pancakes, hash browns, and grits made her stomach curdle.

When they went out into the parking lot, instead of going to their Humvee, a sleek, black, Cadillac stretch limousine was waiting to take them to Richmond. And standing next to it, leaning against the hood with his arms folded, was Ted “Solo” Solomon, dressed in camouflage khakis and a garish Hawaiian shirt over a white, wife-beater T-shirt. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes. His brown hair looked like it had been combed with a broom.

“You hired a limousine?” Charlie asked, astonished.

“No, it belongs to the Lodge,” Nik chuckled. “Part of our VIP Airport Pickup package. Usually either Jay or I drive it, but Solo’s been our driver since he’s been here, although, he normally wears a uniform and cap.” He leveled a speaking glance at Solo, who just grinned. “Guess we don’t rate that particular courtesy.”

Dr. Art Portman strolled up, giving Charlie her second surprise of the morning. Dressed in gray gabardine slacks and a royal blue polo shirt that complimented the silver-gray of his hair, he looked dapper and sophisticated.

“Good morning, everyone,” he said. He turned to Ted and thrust out his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Art Portman.”

“Ted Solomon,” Solo answered curtly, shaking his hand briefly before reaching around him to open the back door of the limo, ushering Nik, Jay, and Charlie inside with a mocking bow and a courtly sweep of his hand.

“I think I’ll ride up front, if that’s all right with you,” Art Portman said. Without waiting for an answer, he circled around the back of the limo to the passenger side and opened the front door.

Solo looked like he wanted to refuse, but just shrugged one shoulder and said, “Suit yourself.” He shut the rear door and walked toward the front of the limo, and for the first time Charlie noticed that he walked with a pronounced limp. He climbed into the driver’s seat of the luxurious Cadillac.

As the limo rolled forward out of the parking lot, tires crunching in the gravel, Charlie looked from the back of Solo’s head to the back of Dr. Portman’s head.
Hmmm. A wounded war vet and an imminent psychiatrist.
One who has obviously suffered some kind of trauma, one who specializes in PTSD.
She stole a sidelong glance at Nik
.
One look at the smug expression on his face confirmed her worst suspicions. This was a set-up. He had orchestrated this entire ‘chance’ encounter between the two men. “Very subtle,” she remarked with a wry smile.

“Do you think he’ll notice?”

She snorted. “Only if he’s not brain dead. It’s like asking, ‘Would he notice the herd of buffalo stampeding through the living room’? Odds are the answer would be, ‘Um, yeah’.”

“Just trying to help out a buddy who won’t help himself. We can feel him slipping away from us and we don’t want to lose him.” The frustration in Nik’s voice was evident.

“I noticed his limp. Was he wounded in Iraq or Afghanistan?”

“Yes, but that’s not what makes him limp. Nor is it what brought him to the state he’s currently in.” Nik hesitated before continuing. Then he leaned forward and pushed the button to raise the heavily-tinted glass panel that separated the back seat from the front. “He was working undercover for Homeland Security, trying to bring down an Albanian arms dealer, when he was caught. The Albanian held him prisoner for months, pumping him full of drugs, torturing him on a daily basis. On his one and only escape attempt, he had to jump from a second story window. He landed wrong and broke his left femur and was re-captured. His leg was never treated and it healed badly. A team of Navy SEALs was finally able to extract him.

“How awful,” Charlie murmured.

“The doctors at Bethesda say they can repair his leg, but he refuses to let them. Says he needs his limp to remind him to hate.”

“How awful,” Charlie repeated, gnawing at her lip. Her heart went out to this wounded warrior who had such a fierce need to hang onto his hatred. It made her more determined than ever to let go of hers as soon as possible before it ate her up.

Once they hit I-64, the trip to Richmond was uneventful. But the closer they drew to the city, the more and more tense Charlie became. By the time Solo pulled the limo up in front of the courthouse, she was shaking with nerves. When he handed her out, she stood on the sidewalk, gawking up at the gray granite, Victorian Gothic Revival building bristling with towers and ornate stonework. “Wow,” she exclaimed, craning her neck upward. “It’s either beautiful or the ugliest building I’ve ever seen.”

“I’d go with ugly,” Solo suggested, as he closed the door behind Jay and turned to get back in the driver’s seat. “It’s definitely the majority opinion around here.”

Art Portman stepped up to join them. Solo had completely ignored him, leaving him to extricate himself from the front passenger seat. Charlie saw the look that passed between Nik and Dr. Portman, followed by the slight lift of the doctor’s shoulder.

“I’ll phone you when we’re done,” Nik called to Solo as he drove off down the street.

They climbed up the steps and entered into an enormous sky-lit atrium with four stories of cloistered walkways leading to courtrooms, offices, judges’ chambers, and conference rooms. The Grand Jury was convening in Courtroom 301.

Charlie was so relieved to see Sarah and Jesse waiting for them in the hallway outside the courtroom, she embraced them both. “Oh, God, I’m so glad you’re here,” she said in a heartfelt voice.

Sarah greeted Nik, Jay, and even Art Portman with hugs, too. She and Art exchanged a low conversation before she turned her attention back to Charlie.

“Sorry I can’t go into the courtroom with you,” she said. “But I wanted to be here for moral support. I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

Alex McKay strode up looking very respectable in a dark gray suit, white shirt, and deep red tie. His black Ferragamo loafers were very stylish. His long hair had been tamed by a leather thong at the nape of his neck. There was nothing of the biker look about him today.

He walked right up to Charlie and put his hands on her shoulders, giving her an appraising look. “Hey, sweetie pie. No lingering effects from last night’s photo session?”

“No. I’m good. Nik and Jay got me through it.” She gave him a sly smile. “They were very…helpful.”

He laughed. “I’m sure they were. That’s why I didn’t worry about you. Although I’m sorry I had to put you through such a brutal ordeal.”

“If it helps put Perry Bradford behind bars where he belongs, then it will have been totally worth it, and I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

“Atta girl.” He grinned

At that point Richmond police chief, Mike Conover approached their little group. He was accompanied by two women, one of whom looked vaguely familiar to Charlie. With a shock, she realized that it was the young woman who had been with Perry Bradford at Club Risqué.

“Miss Fielding.” Conover extended his hand.

“Charlie,” she reminded him, reaching out to shake it.

“Sorry.” He grinned. “Charlie. Lovely to see you again. You remember Miss Karen Lunsford?”

“Yes, of course.” Charlie reached out her hand. “I’m so glad to see you again. You’re testifying today?”

“Yes,” the young woman said. Without the heavy make-up she’d been wearing the last time Charlie had seen her, and with her hair hanging straight down from a central part, she looked even younger than she had that night at the Club. “You inspired me. After Chief Conover told me your story, I knew I had to do my small part to help put Bradford behind bars. H-he raped and beat me, too, although nothing like what happened to you.”

“I’m so sorry,” Charlie said sympathetically.

“And this is Alicia Corwin,” Conover said, his arm around the woman’s shoulders bringing her forward.

Alicia Corwin was a petite, blue-eyed blond around Charlie’s age. As they shook hands, Charlie noticed the faint, white scar marks on Alicia Corwin’s inner wrists.

Following the direction of her gaze, Alicia gave a grim nod. “Yeah, after my encounter with Perry Bradford, I tried to commit suicide. When the detective who tracked me down told me about you and the things Bradford had done to you, I knew I had to stand up and add my voice to yours before he killed someone. I just want to say how much I admire your courage. If I had come forward two years ago, you wouldn’t have had to suffer what you did, and that’s entirely my fault. I owe you an apology.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Charlie assured her. “I’m just glad you feel strong enough to stand up against him today.”

“And don’t forget the trial,” Alicia reminded. “In a lot of ways that will be even worse, because he’ll actually be there and his attorney will try to rip us to shreds.”

“I know. I’m definitely not looking forward to that part.”

“Don’t worry,” Sarah chimed in. “The prosecutor will have a whole team of attorneys getting you ready for anything the defense team might throw at you. They’ll take you through several practice sessions. By trial time you will be well and thoroughly prepared.”

Richmond City Attorney Raymond Baines strolled up carrying a briefcase. He was dressed in a black suit and pale yellow shirt with a yellow and black paisley pattern tie. He shook hands all around, then said, “I’m going to call Ms. Lunsford first, then Ms. Corwin, and then you, Ms. Fielding. I will conclude my case with Lieutenant McKay’s testimony. I know you’re nervous, ladies, but there’s no need to be. Just tell your story to the Grand Jurors exactly the way you told them to me in your depositions and you’ll do fine. Please don’t discuss your testimony with each other while you’re out here waiting.”