Blue Blooded (3 page)

Logan's lips tightened into a straight line, and before he turned toward Gracie, he gave her a look that told her they weren't finished. “Gracie, we're in the middle of a scene.”

“Anthony Rinaldi is here,” Gracie blurted out.

Logan grew rigid, his hands balling into fists. “Where is he?”

A different and more familiar kind of excitement pulsed through Rachel. How the hell did Rinaldi get out of prison? He'd been held without bond, and his trial wasn't for another two months. If she hurried, she could get the story on the air before any other reporter learned about it.

Gracie's eyes were wide with worry. “Outside the front entrance with Master Cole and Adrian. I think they could use your assistance, sir.”

“Gracie, please help get Rachel out of the ropes. Since it was her first time, I didn't tie the knots tight.” His eyes flashing a warning, he pointed his finger at Rachel. “Do not follow me outside.” Before she could protest, he dashed away, leaving her behind and treating her as if she was a helpless little girl. Which, in these ropes, she kind of was.

Grinning widely, Gracie knelt and quickly worked to untie the knots. “So you and Logan, huh? I knew there was something going on. Every time you were together, I could practically see the sparks flying.”

She raised her brow. “All we ever do is argue.”

“Exactly,” Gracie said as she untied Rachel's leg. “It's like foreplay for you two. He's a lawyer. He loves to argue. And you're . . . well, you're you. You need someone who will challenge you. Logan won't let you get away with the shit you pull on the guys you typically date.” She bit her lip, her head tilting as if she was pondering something deep. “I never considered it before, but I think a Dom is just what you need.”

“I don't need a Dom, Gracie. I'm not into kink,” she said, disregarding the past few minutes as a fluke. “Tonight was about getting firsthand experience for my exposé on BDSM. Nothing more.”

Talking a million miles a minute about her concern that Rinaldi was here to hurt Cole and Danielle, Gracie finished untying her. Rachel threw off the rope and gave Gracie a quick peck on the cheek before racing across the dungeon and hurrying up the staircase to the main floor. Thanks to Gracie's quick hands, she wasn't far behind Logan.

Somehow without checking, he knew it was her. “There's no story here, Rachel.”

“Are you kidding me? Rinaldi's out of jail. That's an eleven o'clock top story, and I've got an exclusive. No way am I going to miss the opportunity.”

At the top of the stairs, he stopped and turned, blocking her way. “Cole will never allow cameramen to get past his gate and onto his property.”

Anger suffused her. “I don't need my crew. All I need to do is find out how he got out of prison and why he's here. This is my career, Logan. It's what I do.”

“Do it and you'll likely lose your chance for an interview with Cole.”

She held her ground, squaring her shoulders and looking Logan straight in the eye so he'd know how much this meant to her. “I'm willing to take that risk.”

He clenched his jaw. “Well, I'm not. You'll only get in the way.” He leaned toward her, getting in her face. “I see you out there and I'll make certain Cole throws you off the property. For good.” He stormed off, heading toward the entrance of the club at the front of the mansion.

The hell she'd stay inside. She hadn't backed down from a story yet, not even when her life was on the line. She'd stared down the barrel of a shotgun of a disgruntled landowner, waded through sewage to find environmental dumping by a Fortune 500 company, and braved a pack of pit bulls during a raid on a dog-fighting arena. Placing her life on the line was the least she could do to keep the world apprised of the injustices.

With Rinaldi at the mansion, she had her chance to break the biggest story of the year. No way would she stay inside and cower like a prepubescent girl at her first dance.

Rachel climbed the last steps and went in the opposite direction of Logan. While she wasn't glad Rinaldi was here, she was grateful his arrival had interrupted her scene. If Gracie hadn't shown when she had, who knows what would've happened between her and Logan. His unfair view of her and his threat to have her permanently banned from Benediction confirmed he was wrong for her. No one, especially Logan, would prevent her from achieving her dreams. From this point forward, she'd stay as far away from him as she could.

P
ASSING THE GROUP
of members milling around the entryway of the club, Rachel tried to recall the layout of the house from the tour Danielle had taken her on earlier in the evening. Logan would be watching to make sure she didn't follow him out the front door. She needed to find an alternative exit. Going through the garage would draw too much attention, since she'd have to open it in order to get outside. But in the den, there was a sliding glass door that led to the backyard of the home.

She strolled into the room and smiled, trying to pretend she belonged there, even though she didn't fit in any better with this crowd than she had with those in the dungeon. Dressed in formal wear, the mingling guests drank champagne and chatted with each other as if they were at a black-tie affair rather than a sex club.

As she made her way through the space, averting her gaze so as to not invite any conversation, she recognized some of the guests as prominent members of the metro Detroit political and judicial system. Danielle and Kate hadn't been kidding when they'd told her she'd run into a few familiar faces. No wonder everyone at Benediction had to sign a confidentiality statement. She checked out the colored bands on their wrists to see what kink they were into, wondering what the green and blue ones meant.

Keeping her head down so that no one would recognize her and ask questions about why a nonmember reporter was roaming the rooms of Benediction without supervision, she edged her way to the door and stepped out into the night, breathing the spring air into her lungs.

Even from the back of the house, she could hear the angry voices coming from the front. She slunk around the perimeter of the home, staying close to the walls, until she reached the driveway by the garage.

A beautiful garden filled with ruby and white flowers, small blooming trees, and fat green bushes lined the front of the house. Avoiding the floodlights, she tiptoed behind one of the bushes and crouched down, slipping her hand into her pants pocket for her cell so that she could text her news crew and record Rinaldi. Coming up empty, she patted the other side, clenching her teeth when she remembered she'd left it in her purse at Benediction's coat check.

Staying low, she peered around the bush, spotting the arguing men. Flanked by Logan and his bodyguard, Adrian, Cole stood toe-to-toe with Anthony Rinaldi. She surveyed the area, sure she'd see a couple of Rinaldi's own men somewhere in the vicinity. Despite having spent the past several months in prison awaiting trial, he was still considered the head of the Rinaldi crime family.

Anthony Rinaldi looked surprisingly well for a man who'd spent his past months behind bars. His gray hair was cut short, and he'd lost some weight that his petite body really couldn't afford to lose, but if she didn't know better, she could've believed he'd come straight from a month-long stay at a luxury spa. How did he get out and why was he here?

“Your membership was revoked when you kidnapped my wife and the Feds uncovered the bodies on your property,” Cole said, not yelling, but loud just the same. “I'm not sure how you managed to get past the gate, but I can assure you I will make sure it doesn't happen again.”

Rinaldi didn't appear at all intimidated, his smile almost friendly. “All charges have been dropped, and I received a wonderful apology from the governor himself. I was set up for those crimes.”

Cole's hands clenched into fists, and Rachel was sure it was taking everything he had not to beat up the man who'd planned on torturing and murdering Danielle. “I don't know how the hell you managed that, but regardless, you're not welcome here. If you want your money back—”

“Keep it.” Rinaldi spread his arms out wide. “After I sue the government for false imprisonment, I'll start my own sex club. One with a real dungeon.” He grabbed his crotch. “That way, when your pretty bride gets tired of you, I can show her how a real man fucks.”

Growling, Cole lurched forward and grabbed Rinaldi by the collar, holding his fist back, prepared to punch. Adrian intercepted, pulling Cole off Rinaldi. “Cole, let him go. It's not worth it. You have a family to think about.”

“Yeah, well, I don't,” Logan said, stepping forward and punching Rinaldi in the mouth. “That was for Danielle. And this is for Kate.” Before Rinaldi could recover, he punched him again, this time in the nose. Rinaldi fell to his knees, blood pouring down his chin and dripping onto the driveway. “If I ever see your face again, you're a dead man.”

Rinaldi coughed and spit blood onto Logan's shoes. “Fine, I'll go. But you're the dead man, Logan Bradford. Enjoy your last few hours, because you just signed your death warrant.” He stumbled as he got to his feet while Cole, Logan, and Adrian turned to go inside.

She remained hidden, watching Rinaldi begin the quarter-mile walk down the driveway toward the gate. Where were his car and bodyguards? The back of her neck itched, her intuition telling her there was more to the story here.

She had to follow him. She darted from her position behind the bush to the shallow woods that edged the length of the driveway. Staying on the grass, she remained twenty paces behind him, listening to him mumble and curse under his breath about his ride. He staggered as if he was under the influence of drugs or alcohol. Had he been like that before Logan had hit him or was it a result of the punches he'd taken?

When he got to the gate, he pushed a button to open it and ambled out, immediately turning to his left where he stopped by a Lexus parked on the side of the road. She deduced he must have gotten onto the Benediction property by following on foot behind a member's car as it entered through the gate. No wonder Cole's security hadn't known Rinaldi was on the property until he made it to the front door.

If Rinaldi was inebriated or physically impaired from Logan's beating, she didn't want him getting behind the wheel. She stepped onto the driveway, intending to stop him, but before she could speak, a dark sedan with tinted windows drove up and pulled to the side of the road behind Rinaldi.

Swaying, Rinaldi swore, sticking his hand under his coat jacket and patting down his pockets then pulling out his jingling keys. He suddenly seemed to be in a hurry, jamming his keys into his car door while looking over his shoulder at the sedan. Who was in the car?

Two men stepped out of the vehicle, dressed almost identically in dark suits. One of the men was massive, wide-shouldered and easily six and a half feet tall. If he wasn't in a suit, she'd peg him for a professional wrestler or football player. Knowing what kind of business Rinaldi was in, she'd wager that guy was an enforcer. The second guy was as tiny as the other was huge, but in this case, size didn't matter because in his hands was a gun, and it was pointed straight at Rinaldi.

She moved a little closer, trying to ascertain the men's identities. After covering the Rinaldi case, she was familiar with the major players in his organization, and she'd never come across these men in her research. With Rinaldi out of prison, it was possible that another crime family or someone within his own organization would take the opportunity to try to eliminate him. So why hadn't he brought his bodyguards with him?

The guy with the gun spoke, his voice betraying his anxiety with its shakiness. “We told you to lie low and enjoy our gift to you, Anthony. It doesn't appear you took our orders well.”

Rinaldi showed none of the earlier signs of intoxication, as if the gun had instantly sobered him up. Like a true sociopath, the sight of the gun didn't seem to faze him, sneering at the men when others would have run. “That's because I don't take orders. I make them.”

The man shook his head. “You're in no position to give us orders anymore.”

“The fuck you say,” Rinaldi said. “I don't care who the hell you two think you are, telling me—”

The big guy stood as still as stone as his partner did all the talking. Not that he had to speak. His mere presence was intimidating enough.

The man with the gun took a step closer to Rinaldi. “We're the ones who got your ass out of prison and helped you get away with murder.”

Rinaldi clapped his hands once and spread them apart. “Quid pro quo, my friends. I helped you and you helped me. But we're done now.”

“That's where you're wrong,” the little guy said. “You don't get to be done. Not until . . . ”

Rachel's body buzzed as an all-too-familiar scent engulfed her and a hand clutched her shoulder. She didn't even have to check to know Logan was standing right behind her, most likely foaming at the mouth because she hadn't followed his instructions like an obedient submissive.

“What are you doing?” Logan asked. “I thought I told you to stay inside.”

She bit the inside of her cheek and silently counted back from ten to keep herself from going into a tirade. Then she glanced at him, hopefully conveying with her eyes what she'd like to vocalize. “Shh. Keep your voice down.”

Logan tugged on her arm, trying to drag her away. “You do not need to overhear a mobster's conversation with his men,” he whispered, although a little too loudly for her taste. They didn't need Rinaldi or the mysterious men to know they were hiding in the bushes behind the fence watching their little meeting. “That can only end in disaster.”

She elbowed him in the gut, enjoying his wince. Crouching lower, she wrapped her hands around the cool metal bars of the fence. “They're not his men. Listen.”

The little guy rushed Rinaldi, backing him up against his Lexus, and stuck the gun into his ribs.

“Fine,” Rinaldi said, tripping over his feet before grabbing on to the side mirror for support. “Leopold arrives at Port Everglades at noon in two days.”

Rinaldi continued talking, his speech coming out so slurred, she couldn't make out the words. If only she could record the conversation, she could decipher what he was saying later. She needed her damned phone.

She spun around and slapped her hands on Logan's chest. “I need a cell, and I left mine at the coat check, so give me yours.”

He narrowed his eyes on her. “No, we're going back inside Benediction to get your things and then you're leaving.”

“I'm not going anywhere. There's something weird going on with Rinaldi and those guys. Now give me your phone.” She slid her hands to his hips, her fingers edging into his pockets, coming across a large bulge at the top of his left one.

Logan grabbed her hands and twisted her arms behind her back. “Watch it.”

Not one to back down from a fight, she squirmed, struggling to get out of his hold without having to resort to kneeing him in the nuts and possibly alerting Rinaldi and those men to her presence.

His eyes flashing with warning, Logan backed her against the fence and pressed his hard body against hers, confirming the impressive bulge she'd felt in his jeans hadn't been her imagination. She cursed her reaction, liquid heat spreading through her pussy and her nipples tightening as if begging for Logan's touch. That's what happened when she went without sex for three months. Her body didn't care that she disliked the man holding her hostage or that she was in the middle of investigating a huge story. Her body wanted to finish off what they had started in the dungeon.

But her brain, not her body, was responsible for her success in the news industry. Nothing,
nothing
, kept her from her doing her job. Which was why it was strange that with Logan, her brain seemed to want to go on vacation and all reason fled out the window. That was the only explanation she had for rising on her toes, wrapping her leg around his ass, and tugging him closer so that she could grind her pulsing clit against said bulge.

Logan's lips parted, his breath coming fast and hot, and his eyes, still warning her of danger, grew hooded with lust. She was two seconds from begging him to fuck her where they stood. But at the same time, she couldn't allow herself to get distracted from her goal.

She needed that phone.

He released her hands and instead of taking the opportunity to push him away, she clutched the neck of his shirt, pulling him down to her. His long, tapered fingers delved into her hair, his palms cupping the base of her skull as his mouth dipping closer and closer. She coasted her hands down his arms, his muscles bunching and contracting under her touch, and rested them on his hips. As his lips lingered over hers, she slid her fingers into his pockets until she hit the jackpot, and then she wrapped them around the phone.

A sound like a firecracker going off in the street had them jumping apart as if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on them. Phone forgotten, she whipped her head toward the noise just in time to see Rinaldi clutching his chest as another two explosions rang out and blood splattered from his head, landing on everything in its path. Rinaldi bounced off the hood of his car then slid onto the pebbles underneath his feet with a sickening thud.

“Oh, God,” Rachel said, feeling as though her heart was in her throat.

Logan covered her mouth with his hand and tugged her behind the bush. As if they'd heard her, the two men crept toward the fence with deadly precision, armed and ready to shoot. She held her breath and flattened herself against Logan, trying to disappear. There was no way she was going to die before becoming an Emmy-winning New York news anchor. She'd worked too hard to die now, this way. She should at least get to report Rinaldi's murder on air before she literally bit the bullet.

An incessant buzzing of a phone broke the silence. The men stopped, the big one pulling his cell from his pocket then speaking into it. “It's done. Yes, right away.” He slid the phone into his pocket and narrowed his gaze on the area behind the fence as if he could see them hiding behind the bush. He shook his head and turned to his partner. “It's time to go. We need to get Leopold from Port Everglades at noon the day after tomorrow and then get to the target in Las Vegas by Friday.”