Punishing for Pleasure (9 page)

Pacing in front of the windows of his office, John Stevens was so lost in thought he hadn’t even heard Trac Hughes door open, nor had he noticed he was no longer alone. “Not paying attention to your surroundings will get you killed, Senator. And believe me, it’s those nearest you that are often the most treacherous.” John Stevens might be one of the youngest Senators in U.S. history, but he prided himself on the fact he was as much a predator as any of his colleagues. He had recently been compared to the most treacherous men to ever hold the office, and whether that was a blessing or a curse depended on the circumstance. On the one hand it made fundraising more difficult, but on the other it tended to make his enemies think twice before crossing him.

Senator Stevens spun on his heel to stare at the man charged with keeping him safe. “Well that is what I pay you for if I’m not mistaken? Have you gotten everything in place for that special project we talked about?” People never ceased to amaze him, even though Trac Hughes had come highly recommended by several sources who had raved about his honesty, he didn’t seem all that bright in John’s view. And after all, honesty was highly overrated, and in John’s experience everybody was
ethical
,
only until the price was right. And when the money was to their liking, they were just like any other bottom feeder.

Breaking up with Merilee had been a knee-jerk reaction, but damn if Ms. Prim Proper hadn’t blindsided him. John considered himself an excellent judge of character and people rarely surprised him—but she certainly had. He had only been back from Washington a couple of weeks when everything had gone from sugar to shit in a matter of a few minutes. Christ, he’d known their sex was hit and miss, but he certainly hadn’t seen it as the dismal failure she’d described. He’d been seething by the time she’d gotten to the fucking point.
Why do women think they have to
wax poetic about crap
? Just spit it out already.
When she’d finally admitted her interest in BDSM, he’d released the tenuous hold he had on his impatience and lashed her with words that would have made a two-bit hooker blush.

Hell, he’d known how much his words had hurt her, it had been written all over her face. He’d expected tears and apologies, after all she was a Southern Lady to her core. What he hadn’t expected was her to nod politely before saying, “I see. Well, then I guess that’s that. Thank you for our time together. I wish you every happiness and success. Goodbye, John.” And like a dumbass, he’d stood stock-still with his mouth hanging open and watched her walk out. The soft snick of the latch of his condo’s front door had been almost deafening.

John knew he hadn’t been in love with Merilee—he doubted he was capable of loving anyone. But for the most part he had enjoyed her company, she was gorgeous, knew all the right people, and her family’s deep pockets would have been a nice addition to his own personal fortune. And it hadn’t taken long for the aftershocks to begin. Evidently Mama and Papa Lanham didn’t appreciate having their precious princess’s feelings hurt because their friends had started backing out of their funding commitments before the week had ended.

Fuck me, even her career is perfect for a politician’s wife. Why the hell does she have to be beaten to get off? What kind of sick shit is that? Maybe if she hadn’t been faking it, I might have known she wanted more.
That wasn’t to say he could have ever managed to play her way, but he could have worked around it. It wasn’t that he was a prude, but in his world those games were reserved for women you paid for. And those women never came into contact with the one you married. Sure it was probably chauvinistic, but when in Rome…

*****

Trac Hughes looked at the weasel standing in front of him and tried desperately to keep his disgust from showing. He’d been assigned to Stevens when he returned to Austin because word had been circulating that the good senator was looking for help ensuring the silence of a wealthy and well-connected former lover. Why the man was willing to throw away everything to make sure Merilee Lanham didn’t tell the world he was a limp dick in the sack was beyond baffling. Their informant hadn’t been sure if Senator Stevens intended to kill Merilee or just humiliate her into oblivion, so the young man had wisely backed away and called his contact at the Bureau. Trac leaned against the side of the man’s massive desk and wondered if he’d ever met anyone as completely self-absorbed as the man settling into a chair that looked more like a leather king’s thrown than an office chair. Personally, Trac thought Ms. Lanham had probably made the best decision of her life, even if it had brought out the crazy in Stevens.

Posing as the newly
purchased
head of the senator’s security team put him right where he needed to be, but after the accident involving Ms. Lanham’s car yesterday, Trac needed to find out who else was playing. He had often likened undercover work to a game of chess where several people had pieces on the board at the same time. There had been occasions so many stakeholders and players were involved he’d been tempted to tack notecards to the wall in an effort to sort out who was who in the zoo.

“I was working on the last details, but the accident involving her car changes things. I can guarantee you the Wests and the rest of the Prairie Winds team are going to close ranks around Ms. Lanham. I’m sure it has already happened. She is going to be difficult to
manage
now.” He let his words trail off, deliberately being vague in hopes Stevens would take the bait and explain exactly what he was expecting in the end. So far the man had only asked Trac to put a tracer on her phone, set up a few cams, and tap into her home security system. He’d even left the damned monkshood on the table the asshat had requested.
Jesus, Joseph, and Mary. How did the man have time to research that piddly-assed shit anyway?

Trac hadn’t made any big effort to hide the cameras he was supposed to place throughout the Lanham house, and he’d been surprised the four former SEALs hadn’t found them immediately. But then they’d been pretty distracted by that hot scene in the dining room. Being a Dom himself, Trac had known just how focused the two men administering the punishment had been. Even at a distance, the intensity of the scene had drawn him in. Trac had been glued to the monitor taking in every nuance…every unconscious response, gasp, and moan. The other two Doms who had joined them after completing a sweep of the grounds had been just as drawn in, so perhaps it wasn’t a surprise the equipment had gone unnoticed until this morning.

Trac had scrubbed the feed, there was no reason for Mr. Self-Righteous to see something he would completely misinterpret. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why the senator and Ms. Lanham hadn’t clicked. Hell, the woman was as submissive as any Trac had ever seen and her need for pain would have likely flipped a switch in the man whose only love was his career.
I c
an only imagine how that conversation went down. “Hey, I need more…you know….can you beat me or something?” Queue detonation…

Unfortunately the good senator didn’t seem like he wanted to lay his plans out just yet. “I didn’t rig the car if that’s what you’re implying.”

“I wasn’t implying anything. I was just explaining why things are going to be more complicated now. Perhaps if I knew exactly what you were hoping to achieve, I might be able to help you find a way to get there.” Studying Stevens for a few long, silent seconds during which Trac noted the man had very few “tells” and that meant he was either telling the truth or he was a fucking Zen Master…and Trac’s money was on the former.

“Are those cameras you planted working?”

“Not now. Keep in mind the men that are guarding Ms. Lanham are former Navy SEALs. America’s best don’t miss spy cams when they do a security sweep.”
Well, they don’t miss them as long there isn’t a naked woman bent over the table
being lashed for not telling anyone she was in trouble.
Oh that hadn’t been their excuse, but it had damned well been the reason. “Even if they hadn’t found them, we wouldn’t be getting anything because they’ve set up a jammer so the tracer we put on her phone isn’t working either.” Of course he’d used the most outdated equipment he could get his hands on hoping the SEALs would start questioning what was happening.

“If you weren’t responsible for the accident, that means we have another player on the field and we need to find out who that is—sooner rather than later.”

Before Stevens could respond a quick rap sounded on the door just a second before one of his admins walked in, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had someone with you, Senator, I didn’t see anything on your schedule.” Trac stood and even in the spiked heels she was wearing, his six and a half foot frame towered over her. His friends and family had often teased him about scaring little old ladies and small children just for practice, but the odd thing was those were the two groups that seemed completely immune to his best efforts to intimidate them. There were several elderly widows in his neighborhood and they kept him supplied in food and baked goods to the point he’d finally had to add another day to his gym schedule. And he’d made valiant efforts to coerce his nieces and nephews into behaving without any success whatsoever. But the woman standing in front of him lying through her teeth was eyeing him warily.
Interesting.
She looked enough like Merilee Lanham that they might be mistaken for one another at first glance, but this woman’s look came off as “trying too hard” where Ms. Lanham’s grace was innate.

When he met her gaze he shifted his feet wide and crossed his arms over his chest in a pose every submissive in the world would recognize, and just as he’d suspected it would, her chin dropped and she suddenly became very interested in everything but him. Her body language was screaming sub, but her eyes sent an entirely different message. Trac had been a Dom for a long time and he’d seen women who craved the attention they received during scenes, they loved having a Dom focused solely on seeing to their pleasure, but they were just playing. In many ways they were like any other narcissist.

This woman doesn’t understand the first thing about the power exchange, which is the foundation of BDSM. He was willing to bet her view of submission didn’t even hold a mention of pleasing her Dom, and everything the woman standing across the room from him did was calculated down to a gnat’s ass. She’d never handed over her trust because she probably didn’t trust anyone, not even herself. In some ways she and her boss were a match made in heaven. Trac wondered if Stevens had even noticed that he’d attempted to replace Ms. Lanham with a very cheap imitation.

Well, well, well.
Things just keep getting more interesting all the time.
I’m more than a little curious about
Ms.
Trish
-
the
-
Admin’s
story
, because something about her is flipping all my alarms
.

*****

Trish knew the new security chief was in Senator Steven’s office because she’d been in the next room listening to every word they’d said. John Stevens didn’t pay any attention to his phone and Trish had learned within the first couple of days in the office how to program his phone so it operated as an open mic to her phone. All she had to do was put on her headset and pretend to be transcribing. She’d heard more than enough to ensure the good senator wouldn’t be firing her anytime soon. Hell, she had enough on him and several of his cohorts to guarantee her financial future, and she intended to cash in as soon as she got rid of the bitch who’d stolen her men. Stevens and his new security hot shot had been boring her to distraction with all their dancing around one another in their conversation. She’d had to fight not rolling her eyes at their tedium, but when she’d heard them begin discussing the accident, it had been time to step in.

Trish was grateful she’d had the foresight to prepare something that needed the senator’s attention so it had been quick and easy to simply scoop the documents up from the corner of her desk, give a cursory knock, and then step into Senator Dip-Shit’s office. But that was the point where everything she’d
planned
came to a screeching halt. She had only seen Trac Hughes once, and he’d been down the full length of the corridor and she’d just caught a glimpse of him before he’d moved through the elevator’s open doors. She’d noted his height but the intensity of the man she now faced had been diluted…vastly diluted, by the distance. The chill that raced up her spine was a sharp contrast to the heat that flooded her sex. For just an instant she saw interest flare in his eyes, but it faded quickly as his eyes moved over her. He’d seen something that had caused his gaze to shutter and his entire demeanor had shifted. The shift had been subtle, she’d give him that, but it had been there. Her body had reacted despite her best efforts to stifle the response.

Everything about the man screamed authority, and in the back of her mind Trish wondered if he was a cop. But it was the sexual Dominant that was front and center, and that was who she had to deal with at the moment. His stance mirrored that of every Dom at Prairie Winds and his assessment of her had been instant. She could only hope he saw the illusion most men saw, a reasonably attractive submissive, not the calculating woman whose agenda didn’t include anyone who didn’t cater to her needs. But at the very least she had successfully derailed their conversation about the accident. The less time people around her spent discussing that misstep, the less likely she was to react and draw attention to herself.

Trish had been glad to hear the man driving Merilee Lanham’s car hadn’t been seriously hurt, after all why risk a homicide charge for someone she didn’t care about? The only time she made mistakes was when she rushed and this had been an epic example. Concentrating on the conversation, she tried to tune out the man standing to the side watching her with a focus that made her uncomfortable on several levels.