Wow, what a week! I took the NRA First Steps Pistol Course for research on my latest novel. Before I walked in there, I hated and feared guns. Didn’t want anything to do with them, but needed the visceral information. Three days later, I loooooooooooove guns. Want guns. Want to shoot more guns. Last night I got to shoot a 44 Magnum! So exciting! Loud, but exciting. Now I want to take a rifle course so I can handle those, too. Who knew I’d like shooting so much? So fun! I want to become a sharpshooter. But that means buying a gun and they are PRICEY. So we’ll see. Mr. Carlyle said, “No guns in my house.” So I replied, “Fine, I’ll take your name off the deed.” He should know by now that I’m uncontrollable. By this morning, he stopped with the forbidding. I think he’s resigned that eventually, I’ll be buying a gun. And now I know how to store them safely and how to take care of them and what NOT to do with them.
I had no idea I’d like it. We filled out a few forms before class. One of the questions was “What are your concerns about this class?” My reply? “I’m worried I might like shooting.” Well, my worst fears have been confirmed. I looooove guns!!!!
Okay, enough of that. Here’s a new story and I’m giving you a double chunk to get things going. Have a great weekend and I’ll see you next week!
Love and hugs to you all,
The house looked dark. No cars in the driveway. Beverly walked the block once more. She saw no one near the house; no lights were on in any of the homes on the tree-lined street. The area looked clear. Perfect.
Now all she had to do was to break in, get some evidence linking a politician to the mysterious deaths of her friends and get out without being seen. Super simple!
Not that she had any concrete information that such evidence would actually be in the house. But it was a good bet.
The man she was after was Kyle Baldo; a city council member and supposedly upstanding member of his community. In actuality, he was a criminal. He took bribes from developers and got them what land they wanted, by force if necessary. Recently, several homes in the area were taken by eminent domain so a grocery store and condos could be built; the owners forced out against their will. One couple fought and almost won, but died before the suit was settled. According to the news, they’d committed suicide. But Beverly knew better.
Beverly had a close relationship with the Lydons and there was no way in hell Frank Lydon and his wife Betty would have ever committed suicide. When she got the call about their deaths, she rushed to the scene, but wasn’t allowed inside. As an investigative journalist for the San Francisco Chronicle, she knew how to get information. But this case was different. No one was talking.
She got the same story the cops gave everyone. The Lydons had overdosed on sleeping pills. There was a suicide note, but no one had been allowed to see it. The city council had leaned hard to make the case go away quickly, leaving Beverly fuming.
So she launched her own investigation. She poked and prodded and finally got the news she’d been looking for. One of her underground sources told her he knew the guy who’d done the murders. And he’d done them on behalf of Kyle Baldo.
The house she was about to break into belonged to Baldo’s girlfriend, Angel Jones. Beverly had wanted to break into his house, a big ritzy place, but the security was too tight.
As she walked by the house again, she took a quick look around. Seeing no one, she darted up the driveway and around the back of the house. After checking the detached garage and finding it empty, she was confident no one was home. She tried all the windows in the back of the house, but all were locked.
She sat down on the back porch and thought. She could break a window, steal something and make it look like teenagers broke in. Maybe they had an extra key hidden outside somewhere. She lifted up the back door mat and sitting right there was a key. She couldn’t believe it!
Smiling so hard her face hurt, Beverly grabbed the key and let herself inside the house.
After rifling through some drawers, Beverly settled on Angel’s computer; her hard-drive wasn’t even password protected. When she checked Angel’s email, she found plenty of evidence of adultery between the woman and Baldo, but nothing implicating him in any other crimes. Next she went into the History files of Internet activity. The woman clearly liked to shop. Mostly her Internet searches were about clothes, shoes and handbags.
There was only one anomaly in the History files. A flurry of activity involving a Yahoo email account. Beverly was shocked to find the computer remembered the password for the account. She eagerly read all the mail.
It was clear from the tone of the emails that Angel had not written them. For one, there were several misspellings and the woman had an English degree from San Jose State University. These new emails did not have the same tone, nor the same sentence structure as Angel’s emails.
There were a series of emails that made her whole body tingle. Especially when a certain date was mentioned: the day the court case was to be settled.
One read: Heard thru our mutual friend that there are dificulties. Don’t care, no more money, you get job done. Important it happen NOW. Later won’t matter. Has to be before the 17th. You know this.
The reply read: Complications with hired help. Need more cash or no go for the 17th. Usual payee. Usual place.
Kyle wrote back: Very angry. Do what you contracted to do. Must be clean. Must be NOW. Will pay bonus only if goes right. No suspicions. No cops. Bonus only now. After, only. Hurry. If court decides in their favor, it is over. Must have job done now.
Beverly couldn’t believe how dumb these people were. It was practically a signed confession. She whipped out her thumb drive, plugged it into the computer and copied all the emails.
Minutes later, she slipped out the back door, replaced the key and headed off to her car, victorious.
Beverly had her hand on the door handle when the bushes next to her car rustled.
“Hold it, right there.” The hulking outline of a man stepped out into the dim light, mere feet from her.
She screamed. Her heart pounding, her mind blinded by fear, she knew she didn’t have enough time to jump in the car. She bolted down the street.
“Damn you, stop! Police!” the man called out.
Beverly ran for her life. Whether it was the police or a criminal, either presented terrible danger to her.
Strong hands grabbed her shoulders, a second later, she was in a painful hold. Whomever this guy was, he was stronger than a UFC fighter.
“Let me go!” she yelled, fighting fiercely.
“Hold on, you’re under arrest.”
“Breaking and entering.”
She finally stopped fighting and turned to look at the man. She couldn’t see him clearly, but he was a big one. “Where?”
“Don’t lady, I watched you break into Angel Jones’ house. And now we’re going to the station and having a nice long chat about it.”
“She’s my friend, I was only feeding her cat.”
“You want I should call her and find out?”
“Sure, you go ahead.”
“What’s her phone number?”
“I don’t have it on me.”
“Convenient,” he said, dragging her down the street, back towards her car. “Let’s go talk about it down at the station.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Well, then, you should have no problem talking to me, should you?”
“Why are you wasting my tax dollars—”
“Don’t give me that speech, lady. We both know you’re no friend of Angel Jones. If you were really feeding her cat—which she has none—why did you leave the lights off in the house?”
“Cat hates the light.”
“No more, you’re comin’ with me.”
A half an hour later, Beverly was in an interrogation room of the police station facing the most formidable man she’d ever seen. Large pale blue eyes were set into a triangular shaped face with severe planes and a strong jaw. He had the widest shoulders ever on record. He said very little, but the way he said it scared her. And she was not easily scared.
If she’d met him anywhere else, she’d consider him handsome. But here, he was frightening the hell out of her.
“I want to know what you know about Jones and I’m going to keep you here until you tell me,” he said in a slow and careful drawl.
“Are you threatening me?”
He sat back and said nothing. Just stared at her. Another tactic to break her down. Truth was, the Chronicle was getting tired of her arrests. While they wanted the information, it didn’t reflect well on them when one of their reporters was caught breaking the law. And now that the paper had been bought by a big corporation, her new boss told her one more jail stint and they’d have to cut her loose. She knew if they found out what she’d done this time, she’d be history. She was too broke to lose that job. And because of her reputation, none of the other papers wanted her.
But if she told the cops what she knew, she’d screw herself. She couldn’t continue with the investigation with the police in the way.
Another detective came into the room and whispered in Montgomery’s ear. Detective Montgomery looked over at her and smiled. Her blood ran cold at the surge of power in his blue gaze.
“Thanks, Bob, that should speed things along.” He sat up and faced her, looking like a lion about it eat its prey.
“You tell me everything I want to know or I call your boss.”
She paled, the room spun, she clutched the desk. They knew. They had connections and they knew. Rage flooded her body. She wanted to strangle this guy. Just like that, he would get nearly everything out of her and she wouldn’t be able to avenge the Lydons’ death.
Well, she’d give him part of it, but not the thumb-drive hidden in a secret compartment of her shoe. Last time she got evidence taken from her, she decided to school herself in the world of James Bond. The hidden shoe compartment had proved very useful.
“Apparently, you almost got fired two months ago. Pity,” he said, making a mock sad face.
Enraging her. Her fists balled under the table. All she wanted to do was punch him. Jerk thought he was so tough. So handsome and strong, he probably got all the women and pushed around all the bad guys. A thug with a badge. If he wasn’t careful, he’d become her next subject.
“What were you doing there?” he asked.
She sighed. “I think Baldo’s corrupt.”
“Well, stop the presses, there’s a new one. More.”
She glowered at him. “Oh, hell. Fine. I think Baldo had the Lydons taken out. A source of mine in the City supposedly knows the guy who got paid to do it. It was staged as a suicide.”
“Is that it?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“What did you find at the house?”
“That they like to play with handcuffs, and use Astroglide as a lube.”
He kept his gaze cool, but a muscle twitched in his cheek. So the man had a sense of humor? Say it wasn’t so.
“You were in there for an hour and a half.”
“I know, great results for that much work. And then you grabbed me and dragged me in here, I’m having a hell of a night.”
There was a pause as he examined her. “Who’s your source?”
She laughed. “Right.”
“Why do you believe him?”
“Because he’s never been wrong.”
“So what’s your connection to the Lydons? Must be something strong for you to put your job on the line for them.”
She looked away. Oh, what the hell? “They were my next door neighbors growing up. They…were there for me when others weren’t.”
“Others meaning your parents?”
“Those would be the others.”
“So now you’re going to avenge their deaths and bring in the culprit, all on your own? A man that you know has connections to the mob? I think your passion is overriding your judgment. Which, by your file, I can tell isn’t your strong suit.”
“If you’ll read further you’ll see how many of the bastards I’ve brought down.”
“I have read further. I actually admire you, Miss Whelper, we’re on the same side. Only I don’t break the law to bring in the criminals. I like a distinction between them and me.”
“There is no law in this world.”
“There are laws in my head that I personally enforce, therefore, there are laws in the world.”
He returned to her file. “Says here you’ve been injured… uh… three times according to this file. Bullet wounds, broken jaw, run down by an assailant which broke your leg.”
“Reckless, I’d say. I can guess why you’re not married.”
“You’re too funny. Most men aren’t Neanderthals. My guys don’t mind the work I do.”
“No? What about Harry Yeoman?”
She sat bolt upright in her chair. “Who told you about him?”
He loved her reaction; he sat back, smiling and satisfied. She hated him. He was so handsome, so smug, so sure of himself. Probably had six kids. His broad shoulders reeked responsibility.
“Hit a nerve, did I?”
“Are we done here?”
“Almost. A warning. Stay off this case.”
“So you know there’s a case there. You guys were staking out her place, I showed up. You know he’s involved, don’t you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“No, but why else would you be staking out her place?”
“That’s for me to know.”
“Can I go now?”
“Don’t go against my warning. You won’t like the consequences. You like your job, don’t you? So be a good girl.”
“Yes, sir,” she bit out.
“And if I see you anywhere near Baldo, I’ll drag you right back here.”
She glared at him. An hour later, he finally let her go.
It was now ten in the morning. She drove home, changed her car for her scooter so she could shake the tail Montgomery put on her, and headed for her friend’s house. She’d been followed before and had a labyrinth of escape routes using back alleys, parks, and little known frontage roads.
She gave the thumb-drive to her paranoid-nutcase-computer-hacker friend and headed back home using another circuitous route. On the way, she stopped by a coffee shop. She’d been up for twenty-eight hours; it would be a full day before she’d have any time to sleep. She needed coffee badly.
She’d just taken her first sip of coffee and bite of scone when Detective Mitch Montgomery sat down opposite her, his jaw set, his anger lines deep, his pale blue eyes threatening.
©2007, Michelle Carlyle
Welcome To Michelle's Blog
If you are offended by spanking and explicit sexual situations, please go elsewhere. 18 and over, only please. If you're a fan of romantic spanking fiction, then this is the blog for you. I mainly write m/f spanking fiction involving loving couples. My men are all Alpha, my women are smart, sassy and very bad girls who learn that their errant ways can lead to some painful consequences. My work appears on the website Discipline and Desire. I also write fun erotica involving threesomes (also with lots of spanking!) and other spanky sexual adventures. If you want to buy my books, check out my website, www.michellecarlyle.com or go to disciplineanddesire.com.