Page 14 of Capitol Matters (Marionette #2)

I received Isha’s call Monday afternoon. I’d put her offer of tipping me off about clients of interest out of my mind because it had felt like an effort to butter me up. Maybe it was, but the need to make progress on Maximus’s list left me no room to be picky about how I located my victims.

With the Porsche in the shop for the foreseeable future, and the cost of its repairs putting a sizeable dent in the lump sum of cash I’d taken as my share of my own bounty, I borrowed Donovan’s Bronco. He would be waiting at the Lock n’ Roll Self Storage for my return, after which I planned to take him out for drinks. I owed him that much.

I arrived at the Blooming Orchid, where Isha greeted me at the top of the stairs. Spiked heels put her an inch or so taller than me, all the better for her to hook one finger under my chin and tip it to her lips for a kiss.

“Hey, baby,” she cooed .

I’d dressed for the occasion in a cropped jacket that bared my entire chest, and when Isha’s hand roamed across my exposed stomach, my skin prickled. My body remembered her and tempted me until I pulled away and wiped her lipstick off my mouth.

“Ish, I’m working,” I said.

The madam’s features pinched. She looked halfway to a pout, as though Friday night and Saturday morning hadn’t happened or that this meager offering was enough to garner my forgiveness.

“Is the guy already here?” I asked through a sigh.

Isha motioned to BDSM Liv standing by, prompting the other woman to hold up a skeleton key tied with a black ribbon.

“He’s in my room,” Liv said.

A space I was intimately acquainted with, which answered my next question. Ropes, cuffs, collars, gags… I could find everything I needed in Liv’s bedside table drawers.

“Then I’ll take it from here.”

I snatched the offered key and gave a scarce thanks before sliding between the two women. Padding down the runnered hall, I tried to remember what I knew of the poor schmuck about to get the surprise of his life in Liv’s bedroom. He was a news anchor, which put us immediately at odds. I may have kept local media fat with content, but they caused nothing but trouble for me.

He was also guaranteed to recognize me, so this job necessitated discretion. I didn’t want to end up on tonight’s broadcast for a kidnapping attempt gone awry when the paparazzi pretty boy started screaming for help.

From my pocket, I produced a black leather mask that snugged over my mouth and nose. It would fit right in with Liv’s bedroom aesthetic and meshed with my outfit, too. Besides the jacket showcasing my rib tattoos, I wore leather pants and combat boots, all in black. Guyliner and a choker collar provided finishing touches.

Hopefully, I was Lover Boy’s type, or this would get real awkward, real quick.

I slid the key into the door lock and turned it, then pushed into the dark room.

Black and red soaked the walls and linens, winning a war against dim candelabra bulbs. Liv’s bed was pushed against the left wall, all four posters outfitted with heavy duty D-rings for attaching straps, ropes, or chains.

Lover Boy sat, stripped to silk boxers on the edge of the mattress. As I pushed the door softly shut, he stood.

“Hey, blondie. Didn’t see you on the menu.” He circled me like a shark that smelled blood in the water. Pale eyes skimmed over me, and his hands followed, grazing past my hips to cup my ass.

I stepped into him, mingling our body heat and letting my chest brush against his. “Secret menu item,” I replied. “Special order only.”

His gaze traveled to the mask, and he reached for it.

“What’s under here?” he mused. “I wanna get a good look at you.”

I caught his hand and redirected it to curve around my waist.

“Ah, ah.” I clucked my tongue. “Don’t spoil the surprise. ”

The feeling of flesh on flesh seemed to excite him, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His erection tented the crotch of his boxers as he looked me over again. He licked his lips.

I didn’t mind him, either. Besides the toothpaste-ad teeth and moderately-sized cock—if the bulge in his underwear was any indicator—he wasn’t bad looking. Defined chest muscles hinted at a gym schedule, and his strong jaw and swoop of black hair certainly weren’t turn offs.

He smelled nice, too. Like coffee grounds with a hint of vanilla.

“Okay, I’m into it.” He beamed a smile that could only belong to someone who worked in front of a camera. “What are you into?”

“Whatever you want.” I wasted a rakish smile under the cover of the mask.

He slipped a finger around my choker collar and pulled me harder against him. “That’s the right answer,” he said, his voice low.

My pants were so tight they might as well have been painted on, and they did a shit job of hiding my sudden hard-on. If he used that grip to put me on my knees, I would have ripped off the mask and blown him right there.

Instead, he grabbed my ass and gave it a cracking slap. A muffled grunt escaped me, and I shook myself. This wasn’t the time for getting my rocks off, though it was the place. We were in a whorehouse, after all.

“I bet you feel amazing.” His nostrils flared, and his eyes swelled dark as I met his gaze. “You gonna call me daddy, baby girl?”

God, it was hard to say no. I hadn’t counted on Lover Boy being my type, or near enough to it. But I didn’t have to turn him down. Not exactly.

My gaze slid over to the bedside table, but my move that direction was halted by Lover Boy’s unrelenting grip on my collar.

“You like roleplay?” I murmured.

Lover Boy nodded vigorously.

“How do you feel about…” My attention drifted to the bedside table once more. “A kidnapping fantasy?”

Lover Boy practically purred. His hooked finger fell away. “Where do you wanna take me?”

Intrusive thoughts marched through my brain: To a storage unit across town. You’ll love it there. All the pizza you can eat.

I swallowed a laugh. “If I told you, it would ruin the surprise.”

Walking forward drove him back until he hit the edge of the bed. All I had to do was press my palm against his chest, and he toppled, staring up at me with hooded eyes. He rubbed his hand over his boner.

It was an invitation I almost took him up on.

But Donovan was waiting, and I was working. So, I retreated and rounded the bed to the side table. Yanking the drawer open revealed Liv’s box of tricks. I rifled through it, tossing unwanted items to the floor.

“You have no idea how bad I’ve needed this,” Lover Boy said from his reposed position. “Work’s been stressful. All the same shit on repeat. Vandalism. Riots. Plague, plague, plague… ”

“Mmhmm,” I muttered, pausing to adjust myself before tucking a bright red ball gag and blindfold under my arm.

A length of rope came to hand and kept coming, like a magician’s scarf trick. I didn’t want to fuss with tying knots. She must have had some handcuffs around here somewhere.

“Did you hear about that bank robbery the other day?” Lover Boy asked.

“Can’t say I did,” I lied.

He heaved a breath. “It was something different, at least.”

Finally, I spotted them. Handcuffs. Fuzzy, pink ones. Not Liv’s vibe, which may have explained why they had been banished to the far recesses of the drawer. It also meant she wouldn’t miss them, which was good news because I had no plans to make a return trip anytime soon.

Lover Boy propped himself up and looked my way. “Not complaining, but are you almost ready? I’m going soft over here.”

I dangled the blindfold from one finger, prompting him to grin. “The question is, are you ready?” I asked.

“Maybe I should call you daddy,” he replied.

He held out both wrists as I came around in front of him and ratcheted down the cuffs. The blindfold came next, though it was more of a sleep mask in black satin that I slipped over his head.

Damn, his hair was soft.

The ball gag went in my pocket in case he decided our game wasn’t fun anymore, then I grabbed the chain that linked his handcuffs and tugged him to his feet.

“You’re coming with me,” I said, pitching my voice low. “Now, move.”

“Ooh, you have an offsite location?” Lover Boy asked. “Elaborate.”

The other man shivered as I led him toward the door. He stepped gingerly and too slowly for my liking. But that was an inconvenience I would have to tolerate unless I wanted him to see the confused expressions of everyone we passed on the way out. Isha may have filled Liv in on my business here tonight, but I doubted the other girls and customers were in the same loop.

The stairs presented an entirely new challenge. I led the blindfolded man one excruciating step at a time, earning a scowl from a prostitute and her john held up on the lower floor, watching the whole production.

I dragged Lover Boy past them, then through the back door and into the alley where Donovan’s car was parked.

Holding the handcuff chain, I used my magic to open the Bronco’s back glass and lower the tailgate. Stopping before it, I lifted Lover Boy’s eye mask on one side, giving him a glimpse of the rear end of the SUV.

“Get in,” I told him.

He tittered a nervous laugh, and I braced for his refusal. I would shove him headlong into the vehicle if that’s what it took.

“Oh, I get it,” he said. “We’ll circle the block a couple times and then come back. Very nice.”

“That’s enough talking.” I pulled out the ball gag and crammed it into his willing mouth. If his erection had flagged during our journey from Liv’s bedroom, it was back at full strength now. Mine, too, as I found myself wishing I was the one bound up and gagged.

Lover Boy clambered into the truck bed and seated himself against the carpeted wheel well. His one eye peering from under the mask made him look like a kinky pirate. Smirking, I twitched my finger toward it, resituating the blindfold to black his vision.

“Sit tight, sweet cheeks,” I told him, then closed the glass and gate.

Lover Boy said he needed this. I needed it, too. After fighting with Grimm and Holland and playing referee between Avery and basically everyone else, I was due for something to go right for a change.

As I climbed into the driver’s seat, I breathed a sigh of relief.

This was shaping up to be the easiest job of my life.

Watching me unload Lover Boy gagged, blind, and wearing nothing but shiny boxer shorts started Donovan laughing. He wandered up as I helped the bound man climb down from the tailgate then steadied him on the ground.

Lover Boy remained in place, nudging the eye mask with his shoulder to try to glimpse his surroundings. Drool dribbled past the red ball wedged in his mouth like a spitted pig’s apple.

“Cakewalk,” I announced to Donovan and dusted my hands together. “This one came willingly.”

I’d removed my mask on the drive over and hung it from the Bronco’s rearview mirror as a surprise for my brother to wonder about later.

Donovan’s face twisted as he asked, “So willingly that you had to handcuff and gag him?”

I flashed a grin. “Careful, Donnie. Your vanilla is showing.”

Lover Boy let out a series of grunts, nothing intelligible, but the severity of his tone implied he might have caught on to my deception at last.

Taking hold of his elbow, I gestured for Donovan to grab the other side. A storage unit door yawned open, as dark inside as it was out. Lover Boy’s protest grew louder as we marched him into the tiny garage.

So far, I’d avoided setting foot in our makeshift jail cells. They were too small, cramped, and familiar. Even before my stint in solitary confinement, I was no fan of enclosed spaces.

This room was no bigger than a walk-in closet and even more bare. A folding chair sat in one corner, and a spring mattress leaned against the wall. A plastic-wrapped pack of water bottles appeared to be the only provisions.

“Well, this is haunting,” I muttered, tugging on Lover Boy’s arm.

His grunts turned into garbled wails as he tried to brace on bare feet. The sounds bounced off the metal walls and ceiling like we were inside a tin can.

Donovan glanced at me and grimaced as though physically pained. His discomfort spurred me to pick up the pace, then take over by hauling the bound man to the folding chair and shoving him into it.

Donovan’s frown deepened. “He’s gonna hate it here.”

Lover Boy howled around the gag and made a staggered attempt to stand.

A gut punch of mental energy drove our captive back down, gasping anew. I looped a rope of thought around his waist, anchoring him to the chair and the chair to the floor.

“Let’s go,” I said.

I couldn’t get out of here fast enough.

“Should we take that stuff off of him?” Donovan gestured to Lover Boy’s restraints.

“Later.” A shove to my brother’s shoulder spun him toward the exit. “Give him some time to cool off first.”

It sounded like something Grimm would say when I was his kidnapping victim, and he was struggling to keep me under his thumb.

Donovan lingered in place as I walked ahead.

I reached the mouth of the unit before calling back, “So, drinks or what?”

I sensed and saw my brother’s reluctance as he heel-dragged out of the storage garage. Lover Boy’s cries were muffled, then silenced as the overhead door rattled down and latched.

Throwing one arm around Donovan’s neck, I sidled up to him. “Yes, drinks,” I confirmed.

We made our way to the Bronco, where I passed Donovan the keys.

He took them and stepped aside, pausing. His eyes searched me as though noticing something for the first time.

“What are you wearing, anyway?” he asked.

I spread my arms. “Clothing.”

Donovan nodded, unimpressed. He opened the driver’s door and climbed in while I made my way to the passenger side and did the same. While settling into the lumpy upholstery, I nudged him.

“Tell me, though,” I said as the engine turned over. “Do I look sexy?”

Donovan groaned. “Don’t ask me that. I’m your brother.”

“But if you weren’t my brother, would you wanna fuck me?”

Donovan dragged a hand through his mussed brown locks. “There’s something wrong with you, I swear,” he muttered.

“ So much,” I replied.

He rolled down the windows, then cranked the stereo to blasting. Afraid, perhaps, that he might hear one of the storage unit residents crying out. Or maybe this was his equivalent of stuffing a gag in my mouth.

I’d shut up soon enough. Whiskey would wipe away thoughts of that overgrown coffin of a storage locker. It might even let me forgive myself for committing the same crime that brought my brother and me into the care of the Bloody Hex in the first place. It was bad enough to become a kidnapper, ripping people away from their homes and families. Worse to become calloused to it, knowing how it felt to be left alone in the dark waiting for unlikely release .

I swallowed against the lump forming in my throat. Drinks, definitely. All the drinks. To cope with tonight and prepare for tomorrow.