Day 10:
Matthew woke up sore. Everything hurt. Slowly, he bent his head forward and grunted when pain shot down the back of his neck and settled in between his shoulders. He went limp and fell onto the mattress again. This was going to be more difficult than he thought.
With each passing second, more of his consciousness was regained and soon his heart picked up a frantic rhythm. He’d gone out last night.
“Matthew? Is that you?”
Matthew groaned. No. No, no, no, nooooo. He pressed his face hard into the bed beneath him. He noticed his dick was hard. It wasn’t just morning wood, either. He was remembering.
He was startled to hear a familiar voice. Her voice. “Fuck!” he grumbled under his breath. How could he handle this? How could he explain?
Anyone else! Anyone else would have been fine. No, it’d been her sitting next to him when he finally had the courage to turn on his barstool.
Her red hair was worn loose; soft waves cascaded down her back. She wore a white shirt wrapped around her waist and tied at the back. Her cleavage peeked out a little, just enough to make a man curious, but not enough to expose what she was hiding beneath her tight shirt. A black leather skirt at mid thigh and metal studded heels completed the ensemble.
Matthew’s face was hot all over again, his cheeks colored with his embarrassment. Especially when he recalled the way he’d tried to explain his presence.
“I needed a drink.”
“Oh, I understand that, believe me. I don’t drink when I play, though,” she said casually.
Matthew had wondered how the fuck she could be so casual. He’d wondered all night actually. He knew most people thought he was cold, efficient and detached, but he had nothing on her. She’d wrecked all of his carefully constructed control and she’d done it without losing any of her cool.
“I’m not here to play. I just needed a drink,” he said. His ears felt hot and he knew it would be spreading to his face and neck any minute. He wanted to leave, but she blocked his exit and stayed there, eyeing him with suspicion.
“And you just ended up here? Forgive me, Matthew, but that’s doubtful.” She arched a red brow.
“I’m…. I’m…,” he started to say.
“No need to be shy, Matthew. I mean, I’m here too, right? The only real question is: Who are you looking for?”
Matthew’s hips rolled and he felt the burn of his muscles protesting against the action. He’d be surprised if he could sit today.
“I’m not looking for anyone. I just –”
“Lying? Really? Of all the things I thought you might be, a liar didn’t really cross my mind,” she said.
“Fuck what you thought,” he countered and slammed his whiskey neat. He stood to leave, but Sloan blocked his path, trapping him between her body and the stool. She smelled sweet, like green apples. It certainly wasn’t the kind of thing one expected. Not in a fetish club.
Knowing it would hurt, he braced himself and reached back to touch his ass with his fingers. Yes: there were raised welts all over his butt. He traced them with the tip of his finger, marveling at the fact there was a perfect handprint where her slender, whip-like fingers had landed. He’d always wondered if the brilliant Dr. Janice Sloan would psycho analyze during sex. Now he knew the answer.
“That’s rude, Matthew. You’re trying to hurt my feelings. But I forgive you because I know you’re embarrassed.” She stepped closer, a hand on his chest urging him back onto his seat. Her hand felt hot, really hot, like it could burn a hole in his chest. Matthew relented and allowed himself to be pushed back onto the barstool.
Sloan rose up on her tip-toes and leaned over Matthew to whisper in his ear, “You’re cheeks are red and your heart is beating really fast.”
Matthew moaned and rubbed his ass cheek again. Yes, he’d been embarrassed. He’d never expected to see Sloan, dressed like a cross between the Madonna and the whore, smelling like apples and at the same time rubbing her tits against his chest. She’d known what she was doing, that much was even more obvious now.
“Look, Sloan…”
“Leave Sloan for the office, Matthew,” she said with a smile.
“Fine. What the hell do you want, Janice? You want to tell everyone you saw me here? That I’m a freak? Go ahead. I don’t give a fuck,” he said. He whispered the words, half angry, half nervous. He didn’t know what he’d do if she decided to tell people about him.
He was still worried about that. The things he’d let her do! The way he’d begged her not to stop. He shook his head, trying to clear the memories, but it wasn’t working, not when he was still so sore and her smell still lingered in his sheets.
“You’re not a Dom.” Janice shook her head, “I didn’t think so. I mean, you could be, you’re so strong, so masculine and in control. But that’s the problem. Isn’t it, Matthew? It’s a lot of work to be in control all the time.” She raised her delicate hand and twirled her fingers in the hair at Matthew’s nape. It was an intimate act, full of implications.
Ah, yes. The fucking psycho-babble. Olivia had had it right: Sloan couldn’t help herself. She looked right into people and started tearing them apart. No matter that it hurt. No matter that she wasn’t invited to do it. All night, she’d done it to him, poked and poked and poked until he’d given it up.
Janice’s other hand grabbed Matthew’s thigh and gently prodded. Matthew swallowed hesitantly, but then he let Janice in and she stepped between his spread thighs as if she just belonged there. “I wouldn’t tell anyone your secrets, Matthew. I keep a lot of secrets; it’s my job. If you tell me to leave you alone, I will. It’s just…I want you.”
“Why?” Matthew croaked.
Janice smiled against his ear and chuckled softly, “Because I couldn’t possibly think of anything I’d enjoy more, than your sexy ass over my knee.”
It was definitely sexy. Matthew had never come so hard, never begged so much. He’d tried to be defiant, not caring for Sloan’s invasive questions. But in the end, he wanted to come so badly, he’d have done anything, said anything. Sloan made sure to take advantage. She’d pulled confessions out of him that made him so ashamed he could barely breathe. She’d been ruthless.
Her hand followed along the path of his thigh and turned inward to cup his balls. Matthew jumped, startled, but his hands stayed gripped to the barstool. Janice’s fingernails scratched him through his jeans and he couldn’t suppress the helpless sound that came out of him.
He couldn’t face her, not today, not ever. She knew him too well now. He’d told her things he’d never told anyone.
“Okay,” he whispered.
“Okay?” she purred against his ear, her fingers alternately caressing and scratching.
She’d been so reassuring, stroking his hair and telling him it was okay, there was nothing wrong with him.
Matthew nodded, his eyes closed. Already, it was difficult not to come, right there in his jeans like a school kid having his dick touched by the head cheerleader.
“You won’t tell?” he pleaded softly.
Janice gripped the hair at the nape of his neck with enough force to make his eyes sting, “No, Matthew. I won’t tell anyone. Now get the fuck off this barstool and let’s get out of here.”
Last night it had been glorious and liberating. It had been a light to the darkness in his soul, but today…today it was all he could do not to call in sick and lie in bed and hide.
Matthew finally rolled over and let the pain have him. He closed his eyes and moved his body along the sheets, testing all of his muscles. His shoulders hurt quite a bit and his neck was stiff, but mostly it was his ass. His ass felt bruised all the way to the bone and he knew even after his hot shower the pain would remain. He’d think about Sloan all day, all night, and every time he sat down until the pain went away. And suddenly, it was his pride that hurt the most.
He slowly opened his eyes. He was supposed to go back to the hospital first thing this morning and get the rest of Olivia’s statement. He wondered if Sloan would be there and his stomach hurt. No. He couldn’t see Sloan. Ever. He couldn’t stand the idea of facing her and encountering her smug face. And really, who wouldn’t be smug?
Matthew was a notorious jerk. He knew plenty of people who would pay to hear about him being brought so low. Well, he wouldn’t give Sloan the satisfaction of getting to him again. All he had to do was avoid her. It was the coward’s way out, but Matthew figured he could be a coward every now and again. He wouldn’t let it affect his case.
With a loud sigh of resignation, Matthew rolled out of bed on unsteady legs and fumbled toward the table for balance and his phone. There was a note:
Dear Matthew,
Thank you. You were better than I dreamed. Difficult to leave you, but I know you need your space. I’ll be at the hospital in the morning, stop by if you want, otherwise, I’ll be sure to give you time in the afternoon to do your job. Of course, I hope I’ll see you.
Agreement stands, my lips are sealed.
Jani
“Fuck,” Matthew sighed. Even in a note, he could sense how obviously smug she was about last night. If he didn’t show up, then he was a coward. If he did, then he was trying to prove something. It was a catch-22. Angrily, he reached for his phone and fired off a text:
Reed: Intel @ office. Busy til lunch. Pls rcrd interview.
He figured his text was vague and yet succinct enough. He hoped she would get the hint and not discuss last night. It was better if they stuck to the work. The case would be over soon and the both of them would be reassigned. With any luck, he’d have no reason to see her again. All he had to do was make it through the next few days. Less, if he could get Livvie to talk. It was all the motivation he needed.
Matthew took a long, hot shower. It helped loosen his aching muscles. The damage was fairly miniscule, only a few bruises and welts on his ass. It was a relief to know he had no marks on him that would be visible when he was dressed.
He stopped for coffee on the way to work. He didn’t want to stand around the pot at the office. The officers sometimes tried to engage him in conversation and Matthew just wasn’t in the mood. He walked in quietly, nodding in greeting to the desk sergeant and taking the elevator in silence to the chagrin of the building janitor who rode with him.
“This is Agent Reed.” Matthew set his briefcase next to his desk and his coffee next to his keyboard before he turned to acknowledge the officer’s presence.
“Yes?”
“Message came for you late last night. The desk sergeant brought it up this morning,” the young man handed the message to Matthew and walked away.
“Thanks,” Matthew muttered toward the man’s back and looked down at the message. The agent from the FIA had called. Matthew looked at his watch and hoped their offices were still open. He was cutting it close.
He rolled out his chair and picked up his phone to dial the long number. “Hello? Staff Sergeant Patel, please.” He waited for a few minutes while they tracked the man down; relieved he’d called in time.
“Staff Sergeant Patel, speaking.”
“Matthew Reed, FBI,” he said quickly. “You left a message for me. What did you find out?”
There was a deep sigh on the other end of the phone, “We looked into private planes with scheduled arrivals in the next three days.” He hesitated, “You were right. There seems to be a lot more activity than usual. No information yet on Demitri Balk or Vladek Rostrovich, but we don’t have all the passenger manifests yet.”
“Can you send me a list of all the information you have available? I’d like to look through it if you don’t mind.”
“We do mind, Agent Reed. If there is something going on, then it falls within our purview and our office can handle it. Is there any other information you would like to share with us?”
Matthew ground his teeth hard enough to make his head hurt. He wasn’t in the mood for the bureaucratic games. “I’m willing to share information so long as we are coordinating. For that to be the case, information has to flow both ways. Time is limited, Staff Sergeant. Neither of us has time for a pissing contest.”
“You Americans and your colorful slang,” Patel said. “No one is ‘pissing’ on anything, Agent Reed, but I’m sure you can see the political implications of this? The world’s eyes are on Pakistan right now and we need to know the situation can be handled discreetly and without embarrassing either country.”
“If you won’t share information, I’ll have to contact my superiors and have them reach out to your government. It could take days and by then, the slave auction could be over,” Matthew said.
“I understand you have a job to do, Agent Reed. I do as well. I will continue to gather information on the private aircraft, passenger lists, arrival times and scheduled departures, etcetera. In the meantime, I suggest you get in contact with your superiors. I will do the same and perhaps we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement?”
“Fine,” Matthew growled into the receiver.
“Until tomorrow,” SSgt Patel replied coolly.
“You can bet on it,” Matthew repeated and waited until the line went dead before he placed the handset back onto its cradle. He was careful not to slam it. He didn’t need the attention.
He had a few hours before Sloan finished with Olivia, so he decided to dig out his research on Demitri Balk. If Rafiq and Caleb were set on getting to the elusive billionaire, then Matthew would have to do the same. He was hesitant to get too close to the man through traditional channels. He didn’t want him spooked. He might decide to stay clear of the auction and then Matthew wouldn’t be able to use him as bait.
Demitri Balk didn’t have much of an identity until the mid-90’s. Balk Diamond’s had appeared seemingly overnight with a long list of prominent investors that catapulted the price of the stock within minutes of it becoming public. Demitri Balk had been the primary share holder and was listed as the CEO of the company.
The large conglomerate was primarily billeted as a jewelry company, but was also supported by a myriad of other businesses. The company had its share of controversy surrounding it. More than one story claiming Balk Diamond’s were mined in Africa could be found by doing a cursory search, but ultimately no formal investigation by any government had been conducted.
Blood diamonds were highly contentious, but no one had been able to directly link Balk Diamond’s and any of the mines in Africa, probably due to the web of companies and subsidiaries associated with them. One of the subsidiaries caught Matthew’s attention. AKRAAN was established in Russia and dealt in weapon’s manufacturing and sales. More research revealed AKRAAN had been part of Balk Diamond’s when it first went public, meaning the CEO would have direct knowledge of it.
Matthew wasn’t surprised to see a diamond company involved in weapons. However, what was surprising was the weapons company existed first, as early as the 1960’s. The manufacturer, run by the government, sold weapons to several countries, most notably Iraq and Pakistan.
How did Demitri Balk come to run both companies? As CEO, no less?
Demitri was described by Forbes Magazine as a ‘self-made billionaire with humble roots in soviet Russia’.
Matthew scoffed, “Humble, my ass.” He winced at his own words, remembering the very real way his ass had been humbled the night before. Sitting was definitely a chore. He tried not to fidget.
Finally, inspiration struck and Matthew made a call to his home office. After a brief conversation with his boss, the man had finally relented and agreed to give Matthew all the resources he would need to put his case together. He also agreed to start cutting away at the red tape between Matthew and the FIA.
Within the hour, two techs were running every picture and story associated with Balk Diamond’s, AKRAAN, Demitri Balk, Vladek Rostrovich, and Muhammad Rafiq through facial recognition software and the National Security Database. Matthew predicted something would show up sooner rather than later.
He looked at his watch. He should probably get to the hospital. He called the nurse’s desk on Olivia’s floor to make sure Sloan had left for the day and then he gathered his belongings and headed for the door.
***
Olivia was furiously writing when Matthew walked in. She seemed in better spirits than the night before. Matthew gave Sloan credit.
“What are you writing?” Matthew asked. He put down his briefcase and took a seat. The chair was far more comfortable than the one in the recreation room. Also, sitting in her hospital room had the added benefit of making her more talkative.
“Dr. Sloan gave me a journal. Pretty sweet, huh? It’s been so long since I’ve written anything, I almost forgot how much I love it,” Olivia said. She smiled.
“Not what I asked, Miss Ruiz,” Matthew replied, but there was no bite in his words.
She sighed, “I’m…you know. I just want to preserve my memories before I stop trusting them.”
Matthew really didn’t know what to say, except, “That could get subpoenaed, you know?”
She looked stricken, dropping her pen with a rattle. “Seriously? Why would you do that?”
“Never mind,” he said easily, “forget I said anything.”
She looked at him, then down at her notebook and up at him again before she raised a suspicious brow and snapped the journal shut. “I don’t forget anything you say, Reed. Only an idiot would.”
Matthew inclined his head and winced, “Thanks for the compliment.”
“What’s wrong with your neck?”
Matthew focused on not letting his embarrassment show and did a fairly good job of it in his estimation. “Hotel bed. Hurts my neck.”
“Aww, poor Agent Reed,” she teased gently.
“Funny girl, but let’s get this over with so I can go home and sleep in my own bed,” said Matthew.
She sighed, “Always business with you. Is that why Sloan’s mad at you?”
“What?” Matthew snapped. “She talked about me?”
Olivia gave him a confused look. “She asked if you were here this morning and when I said no, she seemed a little annoyed is all. You seem to bring that out in people, or just women. She didn’t want to talk about it. What’s going on with you two?” Getting even more curious, Olivia raised her eyebrows. “Did something happen between you two? Was there an FBI showdown?”
Matthew let out a breath he hadn’t realized he held. He was relieved, and felt foolish for overreacting. “A showdown? No. Has anyone ever told you you’re overdramatic?” he dismissed coolly. “Dr. Sloan’s usually more professional in keeping her focus on the case, not external distractions, whatever they may be.”
“Jeez, Reed. What the hell got up in your ass this morning?”
Matthew’s cheeks felt hot, but he forced himself to calm down before it could show. The things that could make him blush were limited, but damn it if the last few days weren’t designed to expose his weaknesses to the world.
“Just go on with your story. Please. I’m exhausted, my neck hurts, and I feel a headache coming on, so can we just get on with it?”
Olivia’s face was suddenly devoid of its light and humor. “Fine, Reed. Ask your fucking questions.”
He took a deep breath. “What did you and Sloan talk about? I’ll get her notes later, but just bring me up to speed?”
“We talked about Caleb. Nothing that would interest you, I’m sure.”
“Tell me anyway,” Matthew insisted. He tried to work up a smile to re-establish their otherwise good rapport, but by the look on Olivia’s face, it would take more than a smile.
“I had a lot of nightmares when I first got to the mansion. Sometimes about Rafiq raping Nancy. Sometimes I dreamt about Caleb selling me. Mostly though, I had nightmares about the night the bikers almost raped me. I dreamt about them beating me, stepping on my stomach and slapping my face.” She swallowed.
“I could almost feel blood pouring into my mouth. I would wake up gasping. When Caleb was there…” Livvie sighed, “He would just hold me. Caleb liked sleeping next to me, I think.
“Morning was our problem. I would lie in bed next to Caleb, watching him sleep and thinking he was so child-like when he wasn’t so obsessed with training me, or proving how much control he had over me—”
Matthew interrupted, “Was Rafiq still there?”
“No. He left a few days after I met him. He and Caleb had breakfast on the balcony. Rafiq used Nancy as a table and I don’t know how many times I had to shut my eyes because I thought Rafiq’s knife was going to go right through his steak and into Nancy. It never happened though.”
“What happened to Nancy?” Matthew asked.
“I didn’t know it until later, but Rafiq took her with him when he left. And before you ask: No, I don’t know where he went.”
“To meet the boat. Remember?”
“Right, to meet the boat,” she said.
“So where did you eat?”
“On the floor, next to Caleb. He cut things up for me and fed them to me as he ate. That’s what I’m telling you, Reed: he was good to me. I didn’t really appreciate it until I saw the way Nancy was treated. Even Kid. Celia was treated better than anyone though. Toward the end I’d sort of hoped…” She was starting to drift off.
“Hoped, what?” Matthew said in an attempt to regain her focus.
“That Caleb and I could have what they did. Felipe isn’t a great guy. He wouldn’t be involved with Rafiq if he were, but…. I don’t know, Celia loves him and Felipe seems to feel the same way. He’s pretty protective.”
“You want me to call Sloan?” Matthew asked patiently.
Her eyes drifted toward him, narrowing suspiciously. “Why?”
“Because you need a lot of therapy, Miss Ruiz. A lot.”
She shook her head at him, clearly amused by his bluntness. “Fuck you, Reed,” she said through a smile.
“Please. Continue your story…”
