Midday Friday, Raven was stalking a surveillance target when his phone rang. He glanced at the display. Vice. “Hey,” he said putting the phone onto speaker so he could take photos if the target came into sight. “Raven, sweet boy.” It was Nicola, Vice’s mum. Raven checked the read out on the phone. Definitely Vice’s number. “Nicola,” he said warmly. “Have you stolen Vice’s phone?” “No, I am looking after it for him,” she replied. “Something has happened Raven. I am guessing that you have not been listening or watching the news.” “No,” Raven felt a cold fist close around his heart. He put the camera down and picked the phone up, taking it off of speaker. “What happened, Nicola? Are Vice and Victor okay?” “They are fine,” she assured him. “But we are at the hospital. Miranda was shot this morning.” “Holy f-k.” Raven was shocked. “Is she okay?” “She lost a lot of blood, but she is a strong girl. It was a shoulder wound. Some man from her recording label who has been causing her gri
Vixen touched her brow as she drove between the rows of police cars and black SWAT vehicles to the gates. “No need to stand to attention, fellows,” she murmured under her breath. There was a flurry of activity around her. Speed was of the essence, she knew. There was always the risk that one of Thomas’ associates would drive up the road and spot them. All it would take was one phone call at the wrong time. “All good Tempie?” Claudia said in her ear. “Just admiring the view,” Tempie replied. “Lots of beef on the side of the road today, makes a girl a bit hungry, you know?” Claudia chuckled. “Keep that spirit up, Tempie. Not long now, hey? And then this will be done.” Tempie wound down the window at the gate and pressed the intercom button, smiling for the cameras, as if a man in camouflage was not crawling along the side of her car. The gates opened, and she eased her way forward, hoping that there were no limbs or other body parts in her way and bracing for a bump and a scream. I
The approach to Gregory’s house was blocked off, and the news reporters had been pushed back to a point beyond view of the house, where the trees were set back from the road, leaving a gravel edge convenient for parking. Shadow had to park far back from the blockade, behind rows of news vans, support vehicles, a couple of ambulances on standby, and the cars of curious passers-by, and they worked their way through news crews and thrill seekers alike as they made their way to the police-guarded rope. “Anything?” Raven asked Shadow who had his phone to his ear, redialling Vixen’s phone for the one hundredth time since the news story. He rose onto his tip toes, craning his neck, searching through the crowds of police and SWAT officers behind the barricade, looking for Vixen. “What colour was her hair today?” “Rings out,” Shadow shook his head. His face was pale. “I can’t remember man,” he added. “Blonde, I think. Though my mind has totally shut down, and maybe that was yesterday? Blonde
Raven opened his laptop on his normal Friday morning table after checking that its surface had been wiped free of spills and crumbs. He was glad of the quiet moment - it had been a chaotic week of packing up Vixen’s apartment. They had hired a moving truck and moved the furniture out themselves, a b-tch of a job, but they had not wanted any trail that someone could follow to the office building, so had decided that it was better not to hire removalists and keep the move off record. They had also hired an architect to begin putting together plans for the band’s apartments in the building, and the smaller ones that they would lease out to others. There were eighteen floors, plus the basement level in which the sex club was located, so the building would eventually be a good income for them, though, from what Gregory had left Vixen, they probably wouldn’t need it. It had been fun and interesting to explore the building and basement with Vixen and Shadow, to spend an evening drinking ch
Vixen stacked her boxes against the wall in the new apartment. Office. Apartment. Whatever. She was relatively sure that Thomas did not know about this building, as his sexuality had been Gregory’s closely held secret. She knew that Gregory had made Andrew make the purchase disappear off the books. The accountant had been very helpful from his sandy, sunny, retirement. And that was all that mattered. That she and her boy toys would be safe. “Alright?” Shadow paused by her, carrying a box. He had taken off his shirt, pushing it into his waistband, and his face was sweaty, his arms and chest dirty as the dust from the boxes mixed with his sweat, leaving behind streaks. She smiled at him with false brightness. “Fine.” He was still worried about her. She had made choices that she did not regret, but they had come with a cost, and she had paid it. Broken boy toys, she thought, and a broken Domme. But she was a Fixer, and she would f-king fix herself, along with her boys. She saw the
“I would do him,” Shadow decided.They both watched the black-haired PI drinking his coffee at a table on the other side of the room.The PI was hot, Vixen agreed as she stirred her ice coffee with a spoon.Whilst not as big physically as Shadow, who could have easily played football like his former-pro father but preferred the drums, and who often had to duck his head in doorways, the PI was still a large man, around six-foot, built lean, though his shoulders filled the leather jacket nicely, and she would bet he had nice arms – a man did not get that V shape without working out.He had a fine arse on him too, displayed nicely by his habitual jeans, as both she and Shadow had reason to observe in tailing the man around over the last couple of weeks.Ten am, Fridays, coffee, black, and half an hour on his laptop in the café, same table if he could get it, facing out towards the windows. Between ten fifteen and ten twenty, depending on whether she was behind, his mother would walk by.
Gregory Holmsworth’s country house was set behind a very serious f–k off fence, topped with spikes, and guarded by a security team twenty-four seven. Once admitted past the gates, the drive stretched forever through tree-filled gardens, until suddenly the house appeared through the greenery.It was a very serious looking house, as if Gregory had instructed the architect to make it look like something from a gothic horror film. Beautiful, but forbidding, with a hint that entry did not come with any guarantee of exit.Vixen was not a delicate flower, and in her twenty-six years of life, she had learnt that there were some people that just had decayed souls, and that the law only went so far towards controlling them, but Gregory was a good guy, for all his shady side. She trusted her sense of people, it was what made her a good Domme, and had never led her astray.She parked the Ferrari neatly between a Maserati and a Porsche. Nice, she thought, wishing she could take a snap for her soci
Raven regarded the office building from the bus stop across the road. Night had set in, and the streets were busy in the pleasant weather. Friday night, ten pm, everyone had finished dinner and were out for a night of drinking and dancing in their sexiest best wear. Except him, he thought ruefully. And, presumably, Vixen.The foyer of the building was lit, the sort of after-hours lighting designed to discourage vandalism or break ins, but the rest of the building was dark. Not a single light on. No late-night workers, no night shifts, no dedicated, trying to earn a promotion, die-hard showing their determination at their work desk after everyone else went home. No sign of espionage.There was a steady stream of cars into the underground carpark, however, and every now and again, people would approach the side door tucked into the pedestrian-only alley between skyscrapers. Usually in one, or twos, they rang a bell, and there was a pause, before the door was opened to admit them.Raven