Leather and Grace Read online

  Quentin didn’t have to ask how as she pulled an object from her tote bag. Without a word, he reached out and accepted the hairbrush before stepping aside to let her pass him. Closing the door, he entered the living area and sat down on the middle of the couch. This time he wasn’t sitting to reward a woman, he was sitting to punish one.

  “Dress up,” he said brusquely.

  Laurie instantly obeyed, tugging the dress up to her waist. Quentin patted his knee and she draped herself across it, her torso resting on the couch, her toes scraping the floor. He appreciated her soft groan when he draped his free leg over hers. She would now understand that this was not going to be a few light swats. No, she was most likely remembering that Quentin was very capable of making her arse burn just as hotly as Brody did when delivering what the men considered a lesson.

  Hooking his fingers into the waistband of her red panties, Quentin slowly pulled them down until they rested at the top of her thighs. “Perfect. It’s been a while since I’ve paddled a naughty girl. Your panties give me the exact shade of crimson I should strive to achieve.” When she gave a murmured sound of protest, he lifted his hand and began.

  As her bottom began to turn from white to pink, Quentin realized it was just like riding a bike. Once mastered, one never truly lost the skill. He didn’t begin to lecture until he’d covered every inch of her backside. Only then did he reach for the wooden hairbrush she’d so thoughtfully provided.

  “I love you, Laurie,” he said, rubbing the smooth back of the brush over her pinkened skin. “But, young lady, you’ve been warned repeatedly about trying to set people up, haven’t you?” When she didn’t answer, he lifted the implement.

  Thwack!

  “Ow, yes, I mean yes, sir,” she said, her bottom wagging to one side as if he’d be unable to follow its path with the brush.

  Thwack!

  “How many times have you been across either mine or Brody’s lap getting your ass heated for playing match maker?”

  “I don’t know…”

  Thwack!

  “I mean, too many. Ow, please, Quentin, not so hard!”

  Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

  “Excuse me?”

  “Sir, I meant, sir.”

  Thwack!

  “That’s better. Stop trying to swim off my lap. You know it won’t do any good and will only ensure your spanking continues.”

  Thwack! Thwack!

  “Yes, sir!” she wailed, her back arching as he gave each cheek a harder swat. Two more followed and then he saw her wilt, her body relaxing as she submitted to her punishment.

  “I’m really sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to hurt you… or Grace.”

  “I know you didn’t, sweetie, but you did. Let this paddling remind you what will happen every time you attempt to meddle where you don’t belong.” He peppered her bottom with another dozen swats before he rested the wood on the red mottled surface. He couldn’t help but notice the color almost perfectly matched that of her panties. He set the implement aside and pulled the red silk back into place before lifting her to sit on his lap.

  “Shh, it’s over. You’re all right now,” he said, holding her as she cried against his t-shirt. He continued to hold her until she quieted. When she pushed up, he bent forward and plucked a tissue from the box on the coffee table. Handing it to her, he grinned. “I don’t remember putting that there,” he said. “Perhaps you knew that you’d be needing a tissue sooner or later.”

  Shrugging, she giggled and then blew her nose. “Let’s just say that I remember that both you and Brody were boy scouts. Always prepared?”

  He chuckled and gave her a hug as he helped her to stand, smoothing her dress down her hips.

  “I’m really sorry. It’s just that I love you so much and want you to be happy.”

  “I know,” Quentin said, standing and then bending to kiss her cheek before leading her to the door.

  She reached up to lay a palm against his cheek. “Welcome home, Quentin. I’ve really missed you.”

  He felt his heart tighten a moment and knew she meant every word. “I’ve missed you too, honey. Now, go get some sleep.”

  He waited until the door to the apartment that now belonged to her and Brody closed behind her before he shut his own door. Flipping off the light, he stripped out of his clothes and climbed into his bed. He couldn’t help but remember Grace’s prophecy that Laurie might well be sleeping on her tummy that night. He wondered if the woman had even once thought that it might be the man across the hall that would be the one delivering the lesson. Sighing, he knew that he needed to do some apologizing himself. He’d been nothing short of an ass.

  Chapter Five

  Quentin didn’t get a chance to apologize the next day. When he’d knocked on Laurie’s door, she’d answered, looking quite adorable in a wrinkled, oversized t-shirt that belonged to Brody, her hair in desperate need of a brush and her yawn indicating that she would much prefer to still be sleeping.

  “Sorry to wake you, but I wanted to talk to Grace.”

  “You just missed her,” Laurie said. “I woke up when she was attempting to be quiet.” She shook her head. “She must have tripped over something because she was cursing and it sounded like she was hopping around. By the time I got out of bed, she’d gone, but there’s a note.” Plucking something that had evidently been taped to the back of the door, she handed it to him. “Now, go away. I’ve got to get some sleep. I swear I had barely closed my eyes before Grace woke me up.” She gave him a scowl. ” I hate sleeping on my tummy, you know.”

  Quentin chuckled. “Another reason to remember to behave. Go on, back to bed. No one likes a grumpy nurse.” Pretending he hadn’t seen her sticking her tongue out as she closed the door, he looked down at the note. Grace wrote that she was sorry she had to cancel their plans for the day, but that she needed to return to the gallery to help pack up her things and discuss the showing with Charles. She said not to worry about her, she’d grab dinner somewhere and be back that evening. He was a bit disappointed when she said that she’d found the key Brody had left her so no worries. Quentin felt a bit disquieted. Not because Brody had given the woman a key, because he knew that it would only allow Grace into that one apartment. No, he’d been entirely prepared to apologize and now, being unable to do so, left him feeling unsettled.

  After returning to his apartment to change into leathers, he left and took the stairs down to the first floor. What he needed was to ride. An hour or two on his bike would clear his head. The moment he started the motor, he felt himself relax. It wasn’t long before he was taking an exit ramp off the highway and turning onto barely discernible tracks that he knew like the back of his hand. The only thing better than feeling the wind rush by that the speed of highway riding gave him was the silence that descended on him the moment he became enveloped by the trees, vines and bushes that made up the swamp. He knew exactly what paths to take to avoid the marshes that were capable of swallowing a man whole. Pulling to a stop, he realized where his subconscious had brought him. He dismounted and, for the first time, sank to his knees and allowed himself to give voice to the grief that had consumed him for two years. His sobs over Beth’s death were accepted and muffled by the green living plants that surrounded him. When he had no tears left, he felt his mind shift as a breeze caressed his face, drying his cheeks.

  While he’d never feel free of guilt, he could finally accept what Brody and Sammy had been telling him—her death wasn’t his fault. Shaking his head, he also accepted the fact that he’d never rest until the person who had robbed an innocent woman of her life and defiled a place that he considered sacred was brought to justice. It was another half-hour before he got back on the motorcycle. He might not be able to talk to Grace, but there was another person he needed to see. Once he had a signal on his phone, he made a call. With an assurance that he’d be welcome, he turned the bike back towards the city.

  ***

  It was dark by the time he entered Brody’s room. He hadn’
t bothered to change out of his leathers though he’d unzipped the jacket, leaving it to hang open.

  “Hey,” Brody said.

  “Hey,” Quentin replied, moving towards the bed and pulling the tray table into position before placing a foil wrapped plate down. “Thought you might enjoy this.” Peeling back the foil, he revealed a mound of crawfish with pieces of corn and new potatoes that were still warm.

  “You thought right,” Brody said, pushing himself up a bit more. “Though the least you could have done was peel them for me.”

  “Your leg’s broken, not your hands,” Quentin said, reaching for a bright red mudbug. “Want me to eat them for you as well?

  “Hell no!” Brody said, slapping at his hand. “All I’ve had to eat today was a shrimp po’boy that Laurie brought. She didn’t tell me that Sammy was putting on a crawfish boil.”

  “This isn’t from Sammy’s,” Quentin said, pulling a bottle of Coke from his jacket pocket. “It’s courtesy of Jason.”

  Brody’s hand stopped in mid-reach as his eyes lifted. “Jason as in Detective Stewart?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me,” Brody said, cracking the first crawfish as Quentin dropped into the chair and told how he’d spent his day.

  “At first I planned to ride along the highway but something pulled at me and I wound up in the swamp. I know I live in one but I didn’t go home. I went back to where Beth was found.”

  Brody didn’t speak, just nodded and continue to shell and eat the crawfish, allowing his friend to tell the story in his own way… at his own speed.

  “I finally broke down,” Quentin admitted. “Cried like a baby at the fucking unfairness of it all. She didn’t deserve to die like that. Hell, no one deserves that.” He paused again and this time when he reached for a crawfish, Brody didn’t slap at his hand.

  “Anyway, I called Jason and he invited me over. He’s a good man. Didn’t even bat an eye that I appeared out of nowhere during a family get together. He introduced me to his family, made us both plates, and then took me down to the creek. I read him the riot act about how no one cared about finding the asshole that killed Beth but me, and he just listened. When I finally stopped shouting, he didn’t tell me to stop being an arrogant prick, but told me that a day didn’t go by when he didn’t think about Beth. He said that he’d never stop investigating until the day he put her murderer behind bars.”

  “Does he have anything new to go on?” Brody asked quietly.

  “Nothing new really, but he says he is still certain that she wasn’t killed by a stranger.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know. Part of me can’t believe that anyone she knew, hell, that we might know, would do something so horrid. It would be better to think that Beth hadn’t known her killer rather than to discover someone she trusted turned out to be evil. But, God, man, it makes sense. What I don’t understand is how no one remembers seeing her that night. Her ring registered as being used to enter the club. Last night I realized that with how busy and crowded the club is on a Saturday night, it might be possible, but she disappeared on a Friday night. There weren’t half as many people on Friday as there were last night.”

  “But that night was unusual,” Brody countered. “Remember, it was an open night for prospective members to visit the club.”

  “Shit, that’s right. So with a lot of new faces, Beth might have just been overlooked by other members used to seeing her there.”

  “Could be,” Brody agreed. “But you said Jason believes she met up with someone while at the club?”

  “Yes. Shit, if we’d known she was taken, they might have found clues left behind. By the time I reported her missing, the club had been thoroughly cleaned by the staff.”

  “Not your fault. Okay, even if that’s the case, how can we be sure she didn’t visit the club and then leave to go somewhere else to party? I mean, she was angry at you and was obviously determined to show you that if you weren’t interested, she could find someone who was.”

  Quentin took a while to answer, knowing that Brody was stating facts and not attempting to judge his behavior.

  “She didn’t take her purse or her phone. They found both in my apartment, remember?”

  “That’s right,” Brody said, uncapping the Coke and taking a long drink. “We went over the list of members at the time, despite some of them making noises about suing when we cooperated with the investigation.”

  “I know, but maybe we didn’t go over it well enough, especially with guests attending. Jason asked me about the list and then, well, he asked me how well I knew the staff.”

  That got Brody’s attention. “Hell, you’re not thinking one of our own could have done this?”

  “I don’t know what to think,” Quentin admitted. “Even with non-members being there, would they know about protocol? All I know is that whoever did it knew about the club, knew he’d have to use a ring to gain admittance, and managed to do so without raising suspicion. What else makes sense?”

  The men were both quiet for several minutes. Finally, Brody sighed and pushed away the remaining food. “All right. We’ll go through the list again, this time with a fine tooth comb. I know we vet our employees but hell, we’ll vet them again. The records are on flash drives. Do you remember the combination to the safe?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, don’t ask for anyone to help. In fact, don’t even mention visiting Detective Stewart. The less said, the better. Bring me my laptop and the videotapes from that weekend and I’ll start compiling a list.”

  “I can do it—”

  “I know, but two heads are better than one. Besides, it’ll give me something to do. We’ve got the funds to hire our own investigators. If someone we know is responsible for Beth’s death, you better believe we’ll find him.”

  “Thanks, Brody,” Quentin said, lifting his eyes to his friend’s. “I know it’s been a long time, but…”

  “It won’t be over till it’s finished,” Brody said, reaching out to clasp Quentin’s arm. “We are in this together until the end.”

  Quentin nodded and then stood to step into the bathroom. When he returned, Brody seemed to know that he’d discussed it as much as he could in one day. Instead, he popped a boiled potato in his mouth and, after swallowing, said, “Now, tell me, how did my girl behave while your paddled her ass?”

  “Like she does every time,” Quentin said with a grin. “Kicking and squirming and making continual promises that she’ll never be naughty again.”

  Brody chuckled. “That seems to be a mantra of all submissive women. Making promises they can’t possibly keep and then repeating the same thing that got them across a lap in the first place.” He took a drink and then said, “Seriously though, thanks for giving her what she needed. I honestly don’t know what she was thinking. She breezed in here with a big smile on her face and told me all about how you thought Grace was great. I knew the moment she took a breath that you were most likely seething.”

  “No, not really,” Quentin said, dropping back down into the chair. “I admit, I was pissed but, well, it wasn’t until I managed to make a total ass out of myself that I realized that she was at least partially right. I mean, yes, I do think Grace is great. She’s an incredible artist, and I mean that she has serious talent. You’ve got to ask to see her work sometime. It blew me away.”

  “So I heard from Laurie. But that doesn’t explain how you made an ass out of yourself.”

  Quentin ran his hand over his face, feeling the stubble of his five o’clock shadow. “Well, it came as a shock when I realized that I wasn’t just thinking of her as an artist. Hell, she’s a beautiful woman. For being so tiny, she can stand toe to toe with the big guys. She practically dared David Brooks to trash her in his column simply because she overhead him trashing me… hell, a guy she doesn’t even know. Do you know she has a sweet tooth?”

  “Can’t say that I do.”

  “Well, she does. She managed to down an entir
e plate of beignets in record time. She was practically wearing a pound of powdered sugar by the time we left.”

  “You know, that’s a sweet tale, but can we get to the part where you tell me what you did? The asshole part?” Brody asked, his tone having Quentin appreciating that he was attempting to keep his grin to himself.

  “I’m getting there,” Quentin said, pushing to his feet and walking to look out the window. He could see Brody’s reflection in the glass. “I know she didn’t mean it to sound like anything other than an honest answer to my question. I asked her how well she knew Laurie, and she explained that she knew her well enough to wonder how you’d feel about her ditching me and forcing me to take her home.” He sighed and turned around. “Instead, I let her believe I was offended that she’d suggest you would appreciate her honesty in sharing the fact that you spanked her friend. I practically threw her on the bike and didn’t bother to speak until I had her at your door.”

  He walked back towards the bed and braced his hands against the back of the chair. “And this is where the real asshole comes in. Instead of apologizing, I listened to her stumbling as she apologized to me and then, when she assured me that she knew Laurie and you loved each other, I told her in no uncertain terms that I’m not interested unless she just wants a quick fuck. To top it off, I offered to escort her upstairs, assuring her that someone was bound to be willing to scratch any itch she might have.”

  “Whoa, you’re right,” Brody said, once more pushing the table tray away. “You were a total ass. Question is, what are you going to do about it?”

  “I was going to apologize but she wasn’t home.”

  “That might be, but I guarantee she’ll be home again. She’s staying with us, and if I find out that she plans on leaving because of you, you can guarantee that I’ll be doing a bit of ass kicking myself.”