Seconds later he helped her into a standing position and took her hands.

  She darted her eyes back and forth, unsure of his mood, but she knew what he hungered for. This was a cathartic release, perhaps for both. He wanted every inch of her. Daring to defy, she crawled on top, remaining on her knees.

  He swallowed and tilted his head as he rubbed her arms for several seconds. A smile curled across his lips as he slid his hand to her hips, gripping her skin and digging his nails into her flesh. With one move he yanked her down, shoving his cock deep inside her pussy.

  “Oooohhh!” His thick shaft filled her completely and she was stunned and breathless.

  For several seconds he held her in position without moving. Then he pulled her up and repeated the move again. And again.

  She took over, placing her hands on his shoulders and using her strong thigh muscles to ride him, going up and down on his cock.

  Montana cupped her breasts, holding and squeezing, his eyes never leaving hers. “Yes. Fuck me, Ride me.”

  She did as she was told, panting as she undulated forward and backward. Lowering her head, she held her lips just an inch from his and darted out her tongue.

  “Tease. Such a tease.” Pulling her forward by her breasts, he French kissed her and lifted his hips up from the couch, meeting every hard thrust with one of his own.

  Within seconds her entire body began to shake. She squeezed her cunt muscles until he grunted.

  He broke the kiss. “Come with me.”

  Giving him a slight smile, she obeyed.

  Montana shifted and opened his eyes. A stream of filtered light cut across his field of vision. He blinked, unable to see anything else. Hearing a rustling sound, he bristled and jerked his head to the left. Then the memory of the night rushed into his conscious state. Destiny. The admittance of his past. Spanking her. What in God’s name had possessed him? He realized he was relief, the release of information so freeing. She was the reason. Things would never be the same between them.

  Exhaling, he studied her face in what seemed to be a pensive slumber. Her face was pinched, her eyes rolling back and forth under her closed eyelids. He reached out, determined to wake her, then heard the buzzing of his phone.

  Where the hell were his clothes? Oh yeah, in the living room. He remembered grabbing his phone seconds before he’d picked her up, carrying her up the stairs. A quick glance to the nightstand reminded him they’d finished a second bottle of wine. When the phone stopped buzzing, he glanced at his watch. “Fuck,” he whispered under his breath. Almost nine. He’d never overslept, missing roll call before his shift.

  He grabbed his phone and eased out of bed just as the buzzing started again. Grant. Fantastic. “Hey. Sorry.” When she cried out in her sleep, tossing her arms back and forth, he moved further away from the bed.

  “Sounds like you’re not alone,” Grant stated, ire in his voice.

  “Sorry, just overslept.”

  “Uh-huh. Tell me another lie. Sargent Wallace ain’t pleased, especially since the press is breathing down the Mayor’s neck, which means the Sarge is in a vice being squeezed.”

  “I know. I know.” Montana walked toward the window, peering under the blinds. “Anything on Michael Cavanaugh?”

  “He didn’t come back to his house, but I did have an opportunity to talk to his ex-wife on the phone this morning.”

  “And?”

  “No!” Destiny shrieked.

  “Dude, are you having sex while we talk?” Grant chuckled.

  He narrowed his eyes. She was having some sort of nightmare. “Hell no. What did the wife say?”

  “That she had to have a restraining order placed on Michael.”

  “Why?” From what Destiny had told him, Michael was losing touch with reality. Perhaps she’d been right about the guy all along. “The kid was losing it.” Maybe the stories from the past were truer than anyone wanted to believe. What if Michael had been killing for years?

  “He followed her and I mean everywhere. She couldn’t work or go to the grocery store without him showing up. He seemed to know exactly what she was doing before she did. Scared the shit out of her.”

  “Did the order work?” Montana could swear someone was sitting in a car just outside Destiny’s place. He shook his head. She lived on a very public street. Maybe her odd stories were getting to him.

  “She said for a little while, until about a week ago,” Grant said.

  “Interesting. That’s when Destiny, I mean Dr. Blade noticed his behavior changing.”

  “Destiny, eh? You better watch yourself, partner. You still don’t know everything about the good doctor.”

  Montana held his breath and walked back toward the bed. She was sweating, her face contorting in what appeared to be agony. He ignored the comment. “Seems like we need to find Michael sooner versus later.”

  “Doing my best. The wife gave a couple of ideas, friends of Michael’s. I’ll check. When are you coming in?”

  “Thirty minutes.”

  “No. No. No. No.” Destiny’s words grew louder.

  Grant huffed. “Boy, that sounds fucking hot. Make sure you do or you might be skinned alive by the Sarge.”

  “I’ll be there.” He ended the call, tossed the phone on the nightstand and crawled back on the bed. “Ssshhh… Destiny. Come on. Wake up.” He held her arms, shaking her gently.

  “No. No. No. No.” The words were the same. She tossed her head back and forth.

  “Destiny!” He shook her harder.

  “No!” she screamed.

  “Destiny. Wake up!” Now he was concerned. He lifted her up from the bed and cupped her face.

  She shrieked then the sound died in her throat as her eyes flew open.

  In them he saw absolute terror. “You were having a nightmare, nothing more.”

  Shaking, she shook her head several times. “Montana. I know. I saw.”

  “What did you see? What?” He brushed damp hair from her ashen face. Her body was ice cold. “Just a dream. Okay?”

  “No. No! I saw your death. You’re going to die,” she whispered as tears slipped down both sides of her face. “And there’s nothing I can do to help you.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Christopher stood in the shower, allowing the water to cascade over his head and down his back. He was drawing a blank about the night before, except for his rendezvous with Destiny Blade. He’d taken a chance allowing her to know that he was aware of her real identify. Perhaps he’d even anticipated her haughty behavior. He’d read enough about her in her professional life to know that she was not to be taken lightly. She was also exactly what he’d craved his entire life.

  He tipped his head back until water poured into his mouth. Spitting, he wiped his face before palming the cool tile blocks. What had happened after he left the bar he was unsure of. The missing hours were disturbing. Granted, the headache the night before had been significant, making him nauseas even now. The pain pills hadn’t helped, at least from what he could remember.

  Groaning, he slapped his hand against the granite and eased back, turning off the water. At least he’d woken up in his bed. Grabbing a towel, he dried off and slipped the towel around his waist. He wiped the steam away from the bathroom mirror and glared at his reflection. Dark circles and unshaven stubble stared back at him. The look wasn’t his best. Today was a new day. He snorted given he looked like crap.

  After shaving and drying his hair, he walked into the bedroom to get dressed. There was no sign of last night’s clothes. He scanned the perimeter and frowned. For a few seconds he stood, envisioning the night before. Hadn’t he gone out for drinks? The majority of the evening was blank. Yet, he was meticulous about his clothing, dirty clothes even organized. Without a doubt, the wine and the pain pills were a dangerous combination.

  Today he needed to be on his game. There were contracts to finalize, various staff meetings to be held and a meeting with his financial advisor. No one would know he was missing several hours. He selected well. The suit was charcoal, the tie burnished red and the shirt crisp white. He grabbed his phone, realizing his wallet was wherever his clothes ended up. The search on, he checked his voice mail as he walked from room to room. The usual daily messages from his assistant were nothing but a reminder of his rather dull life. When he heard the seductive voice of the lovely Mistress Jade, he smiled.

  Her request? An update on the evening’s meeting with the lovely Skyler. Quite frankly, he had no intention of telling Jade anything about his activities with Destiny Blade. He shoved the phone in his pocket and jogged down the stairs and into the living room. The pile just inside the door solved the mystery. His wallet was in plain sight. He shook his head as he bent down and an odd stain on his shirt caught his eye. What the hell?

  Christopher recoiled. While he was no expert, he didn’t need to be to determine the substance was blood. Had he been in a fight? Using his thumb and forefinger, he picked up the shirt by the sleeve. The entire front was covered in dried blood, the arms splattered. A sharp stench created bile in his stomach. After taking a short whiff, he fought retching. Vomit and what had to be urine also covered the once perfect cotton.

  He swallowed hard and glanced around the room then toward the front door. There was no sign of a break in and nothing else amiss. A cold shiver raced down his spine. He bent down and fingered his pants and jacket. They were also covered with a gooey substance, along with blood. “What the fuck?” The words echoed in the room. Someone had to be fucking with him.

  Then why can’t you remember anything?

  Beads of sweat gravitated toward his eyes. The blackouts were getting out of hand.

  Hesitating, he grabbed the heap, along with his wallet, and headed for the kitchen and the trash bin. There was no thought about wearing the clothes again. Whatever he’d engaged in, whether sexual in nature or a horrific fight, he wanted zero reminders of. Anxiety mixed with adrenaline as he looked though the wallet. There were no stubs from a club or a parking ticket. A quick glance into the garage told him he’d been in enough of a right mind to park in the garage.

  Something was wrong, dead wrong. His keys were in their usual place on the kitchen counter. He walked toward the sink and narrowed his eyes. Although the deep basin was black granite, he could still make out a substance marring the surface. “Fuck.” Taking the tip of his index finger, he rubbed through one of several spots and held it into the light. More blood. This kind of crap he didn’t need.

  He washed his hands, scrubbed the sink clean and grabbed his keys. There had to be a reasonable explanation. He feared he’d hear on the news that Stephen Drummand was dead. A single laugh slipped past his lips. Would he honestly care but so much?

  There was no such news and in fact, no story about a drunken idiot at a bar or a new murder. He settled into the seat and neared the entrance to the freeway. Several thoughts flowed into the back of his mind. Her. Destiny. He needed to see her, talk with her. Visions flashed before him, vibrant and clear. The table at the café. Her beautiful smile and shimmering eyes. The night at the club. Red. Scarlet red. Blood. She was covered in blood.

  Beep! Screech!

  “Fuck. Get the fuck out of the way!” Shaken, Christopher turned the wheel then over corrected, managing to stop just before he ran into the back of a dump truck. He kept his foot on the brake and blinked several times in an effort to clear his mind from the fog. The images were still there, flashing by one after the other. Was she safe? What was he seeing? He pressed his hands against his forehead and let out a long breath.

  His breathing ragged, he kept his head down until he was able to control his thoughts and his heartrate. He jerked his head up. He had to see her. Of course he knew where she lived as well as the address to her office.

  He took the chance, breaking every speed limit as he maneuvered through traffic until he reached the Fan area of Richmond and a vacant parking spot. The tires squealed when he came to a stop. He jumped out and glanced up and down both sides of the street. An eerie feeling of being watched, even followed lingered in his mind as he walked toward her house. This wasn’t his best idea. If he terrified her, she would never work with Mistress Jade again, let alone allow him anywhere near her. Why should she?

  Exhaling, he climbed up the stairs and onto her porch. After ringing the bell, he took a step back. Seconds later he heard footsteps.

  When Destiny opened the door, she didn’t appear scared of him, merely angry. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to apologize for last night.”

  “Apologize? You mean for breaking the rules, finding out who I was? Or perhaps for tracking me down and coming to my home, my sanctity? Perhaps even apologizing for being an arrogant ass who thinks he can get what he wants just because he’s supposedly worth something? Am I getting close?”

  For any other person, Christopher would have lashed out. This woman, this incredible and feisty woman knew no bounds and didn’t care who or what he was. “For all of the above and I probably could add two or three additional reasons.”

  The words caught her off guard. She wrinkled her nose, frowned and after a few seconds took a step outside. “You are tenacious. That I’ll give you.”

  He grinned. “I hope that’s a redeeming quality.”

  She scanned the street. “Maybe. The questions are why and what do you really want?”

  “Honestly? To apologize and to see if we could actually have lunch? Maybe that would be a safe enough haven for you?” He wasn’t certain why he wanted to get to know her. This wasn’t his usual methodology with submissives in any manner, but this was natural and almost normal.

  “Lunch?” Laughing, she shook her head. The tone of her voice was filled with disdain. “Not a night at the club or in your playroom?”

  “Destiny, I’m not going to lie to you that I wouldn’t enjoy, but you’re not ready. Lunch seems to be the most prudent manner in which to get to know you.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? Because you intrigue me more than the majority of women I meet. Do you need another reason?” He looked her up and down. She remained on edge, as if debating whether or not he would hurt her. “I assure you, I’m merely a man who enjoys a woman of fortitude.”

  She seemed to debate, her expression full of doubt. “Fortitude. Interesting. All right. Today?”

  “I’d like that. May I pick you up at the office?” When she took a step back, shutting down, he allowed her the space, but lowered his voice. “I assure you, I’m not going to take you somewhere out of the ordinary. In fact, there’s a little Mexican place near your office I think you’ll like. You do like Mexican, don’t you?”

  After a few seconds she smiled, yet her eyes reflected continued doubt. “Very much. All right, but I will have mace with me. Just keep that in mind.”

  He burst into laughter. “I wouldn’t expect any less. Is one all right?”

  “Yes. That’ll be fine.”

  “Looking forward to a wonderful time with a beautiful woman.” When he walked down her stairs and toward the car, he smiled. Peace replaced the turmoil from earlier. Later, he would introduce her to his playroom. Of that he had zero doubt.

  “Michael, this is Dr. Blade. I’m very concerned about you. I haven’t heard anything from you. Please give me a call.” Destiny hung up the phone and bit her lip. Her sixth sense was kicking into overdrive. There was something terribly wrong. She rubbed her hand absently across the cool wood of her desk. A nagging sensation, one of horror mixed with anxiety remained.

  She typed in several key words, including Club Noir as well as BDSM. There was nothing on the club itself, but she was directed back to the references for BDSM in Candance, Michael, Jenna and Mark. Sitting back, she closed her eyes and mentally went back to as many sessions as she could really remember. If Michael was involved, then how was Mark? Other than a direct invitation. Why would anyone kill him?

  Destiny tapped her pen. Mark had mentioned very little about the lifestyle, except he desired to… She eased back and quickly pulled up his file. The notes were certainly not as extensive as Michael’s by any means. She found the BDSM keyword and read the passage. “Huh.” He wanted to work in the industry and he had a friend teaching him. He thought he could teach to some degree. The idea seemed incredulous at the time. Now? Anything was possible. They’d never explored the particular comment. Maybe this was a break. Maybe this was nothing. She made mental note to tell Montana.

  “So, who is this guy you’re having lunch with?” Gina folded her arms as she eased against the doorway.

  “Jesus!” she exclaimed.

  “Jumpy today I see. This guy must have a powerful hold over you.”

  The words were far too pointed. She gave her assistant a quick look and wrote a few notes in Michael’s file. “Just a guy I met. We had a glass of wine last night. He’s…fascinating.”

  “Really? Tell me all about him? What’s his name? What does he do?”

  “Honestly? I have no idea.”

  “What?” Gina took a step closer. “What do you mean you have no idea?”

  “I don’t know his name or what he does.” For the first time the realization seemed ridiculous to her. The guy knew her name but she had no idea regarding anything about him. Every red flag was on high alert, but there was something else – a knowing. She was supposed to get to know him.

  “That’s what we call stupid. He’s picking you up today?”

  Destiny nodded. Where could Michael have gone? After the horrific nightmare, she’d had five minutes to talk to Montana before he rushed off, but she knew Michael was a suspect and no one knew where he was.

  “Destiny, that’s not smart. Do you understand what I’m saying? Call it off. You do know his phone number, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I have his phone number. Stop worrying. We’re having lunch. You can meet the guy in case I never come back.” She chuckled but the thought had occurred to her.