Tickle His Fancy: Trident Security Book 6 (Trident Security Series) (7 page)

He slid an 8 x 10 photo of the missing blonde onto the table,
followed by another of a different woman—this one was a brunette. “Christie
Lawrence, age twenty-eight, missing for three weeks now. Last seen at a bar
down on the Riverwalk by some friends a little after midnight. She drove home
and disappeared. Her car was locked with her cell phone inside. Her purse was
missing, too.” Christie was the one some of them had already heard about. Brody
studied the photo—she was a cute girl. Webb tossed a third picture on the table
for the team to see—this woman had black hair. “Melody Barnes, age twenty-five,
missing for six weeks. Last seen leaving her job as a waitress at 11:00 p.m.
And once again, her car was at her condo and locked—cell phone inside. No
purse.”

Devon crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Okay.
So we have three missing women, and since you haven’t said you found any
bodies, they are still
just
considered missing. I understand your
concern because the similarities and circumstances don’t bode well, but what’s
it got to do with us?”

Sitting forward, Ian rested his elbows on the table. “You
already know Heather is a submissive in the lifestyle.” He pointed at the
photos. “The brunette is a submissive and a member of Heat. And the other one attended
her first munch a few days before she went missing. One of her friends went
with her, but they weren’t together at all times so she doesn’t know who Melody
spoke to, but she was there as a potential submissive to the lifestyle.”

“Oh, fuck.” Boomer slid the photos closer to inspect them
better. “Are you telling me we have some nutcase kidnapping submissives?”

Webb nodded. “That’s what we’re starting to believe. It’s too
much of a coincidence to ignore. My captain doesn’t want to bring the feds in
yet, for several reasons. One, he doesn’t play well with others. Two, he hates
Special Agent in Charge Stonewall.” Brody snorted. Everyone in the room hated
the SAC of the Tampa FBI office—the guy was a real asshole. “And three, we have
no bodies. Just three missing person cases. Cal called me about something
unrelated this morning, and I asked, off-the-record, if he knew any connections
to the lifestyle. He brought me to see Ian. I had no idea there was a club on
the premises here.”

“That’s the way we like it,” Ian responded.

“I hear you. Anyway, I know there are other clubs in the
area. I’d like your help in getting the word out to women who attend them to be
careful until we have more to go on.” The detective stood, and Cal and Ian
followed suit. “And it obviously goes without saying, but if you hear of
anything that might give us an idea of what the fuck is going on, give me a
ring.”

Ian shook the man’s hand. “Of course. I’m going call my
cousin, Mitch, who’s our manager and co-owner, along with the owners of the
other clubs, and have a meeting. I’ll make sure they have your contact info in
case something comes up.”

“Thanks.”

After Cal also shook hands with Ian, the fed and detective
left the room. The boss raised his voice. “Colleen?”

Within seconds, Trident’s secretary was standing in the
doorway. “Yes?”

“Pull up the list of the kink clubs. I want a meeting with
every owner and/or manager of the clubs within a fifty-mile radius. Tell them
it’s imperative and I’d appreciate it if could be this evening at The
Covenant.” He glanced at the wall clock. “Let’s make it for seven. If someone
can’t be there, let me know, and I’ll reach out to them later.”

When Collen hurried off to make the calls, Ian turned back to
his team. He placed his hands on the table and leaned his weight on them.
“Since we’re closed tonight, I’ll send out a mass text and email to the
members. As of now, no female submissive leaves the club without an escort home
and is secure behind locked doors. Those without Doms will be followed home by either
a volunteer Dom or security. No fucking exceptions. I’ll be damned if this
fucking asshole takes a member of my club.”

The men all agreed. They were extremely protective of the
submissives who belonged to The Covenant, no matter who they were.

Ian eyed Marco and then Brody. “How’s the training going?”

After popping the last of his cinnamon roll in his mouth,
Brody swallowed then grinned. “Everyone but Batman puked for Babs, but he’s
already been on several of her roller coaster rides. They’re doing well on the
rescue simulations and starting to think like a team. When are you planning on
dropping them in the middle of nowhere?”

The last training exercise would consist of letting the Omega
team fast rope into the midst of the wilderness of the Rocky Mountains with a
two or three-day hike out. They would have less than the bare basics to survive
and would need everyone’s input to make it to the prearranged extraction point
in one piece. “We’ve got a few cases and missions on the front burner, and this
missing submissives thing just added to it. At this point, it’ll probably be
after my wedding.”

Devon’s cell rang, and he answered the call. “What’s up,
Pet?”

Obviously, it was his wife. Kristen was ready to give birth
any day now, and it couldn’t happen fast enough for her. She was already nine
days overdue. Baby JD—John Devon—was taking his sweet-ass time. Brody knew
Kristen had been extremely uncomfortable these past few weeks with the sweltering
weather following months of morning sickness, which had worried her husband to
no end. Devon froze. “You’re sure?” Standing quickly, he sent his chair flying
and raced for the door, shouting over his shoulder, “She’s in labor!”

Sitting next to Brody, Boomer groaned. “Fuck! I had Thursday
in the baby pool. Who has today?”

Egghead hit a few buttons on his laptop and brought up the
document with everyone’s bet. With twenty people putting up fifty dollars each,
the winner would get a cool thousand bucks. “Nick’s got today. And Reggie has
tomorrow if it’s a long labor.”

“Figures.”

Crumpling up the now empty bakery bag, Brody stood. “Well,
I’m hitting the shower, then we’ll have the team down on Main Street if you
need us. But please don’t, because I’ve got plans tonight with one very fancy
lady.”

Behind her locked office door, Fancy changed out of her chef’s
whites and into a denim skort and red tank top. Over that, she pulled on a
cotton, button-down, Cleveland Indians shirt which she had stolen from Patrick
years ago. It was one of the few items of her late husband’s clothing she’d
held onto. Leaving the buttons undone, she pulled her hair from its bun,
brushed it out and then put it back up in a ponytail. She turned to a small
mirror on the wall and applied a subtle eyeliner, some blush, and lip gloss.
Her stomach quivered for at least the hundredth time that day. Her last first
date had been with Patrick, but that had been nine years ago when she was
twenty.

A knock on the door had her startling. Taking a deep breath,
she tried to get her nerves under control. “Who is it?”

“Carol. Brody’s here.” Her employee singsonged the second two
words. Jamie, Bernice, and Carol had been urging her to go out with Brody for
the past two weeks and almost threw a party when they’d heard she had finally
relented.

“Tell him I’ll be out in a minute.”

“’Kay.”

Sliding her feet into the sandals she’d brought with her, she
shoved her work clothes and shoes into a duffel bag and left it on her chair.
She’d bring it home after work tomorrow. Grabbing her purse and the canvas bank
bag with the day’s receipts, she took one more look in the mirror. The
butterflies in her stomach took flight again, and she inhaled, then exhaled
slowly. “Here goes nothing.”

Locking the office door behind her, she walked into the
kitchen and said goodbye to Miguel who was decorating large cookies in the
shapes of several
Sesame Street
characters—they were a hit with the
kids. Entering the main shop, she found Brody paying Bernice for a box of
something, which had already been tied off with string, along with two large
bottles of water and a quart of milk. He was wearing tan cargo shorts, a Tampa
Bay Rays T-shirt, and sneakers, and he looked absolutely yummy. The shirt was
just snug enough to show off his incredible physique, and her hands itched to
brush against the hard contours of his torso.

Stepping around the counter, she approached him with her
eyebrows raised. “You know they have food at the stadium, right?”

He grinned at her as he tucked his wallet back into his pants
pocket. His gaze went quickly from her face to her feet and back up again. “You
look fantastic.” She blushed as he continued. “And yes, I know they have food
there. This isn’t for us. Ready?”

Nodding, she held up the bank bag. “
Mmm-hmm
, but can
we drop this off at the night deposit at my bank. It’s the TD Bank a few blocks
away.”

“Sure thing.” He turned back to the counter and said goodbye
to her employees as he gathered up the box and the bag Bernice had placed the
bottles in.

Fancy waved to the women, who paused in their prep for
closing, both giving her a covert thumbs up, before following Brody to the
door, which he held open for her. She couldn’t believe how much she was looking
forward to this evening and hoped she wasn’t reading too much into his
attention. Stopping at his truck, he opened the passenger door for her to climb
in. “I’ll be right back.”

With confusion and curiosity, she watched as he hurried
toward the back of the parking lot. There was a homeless man, who she had never
seen before, sitting on a crate in the shade of a few trees. Brody squatted
down next to him and spoke as he opened up the bakery box and bag so the man
could see what was inside. His clothes were worn and a little dirty, and his
hair was long and disheveled, but it was clear none of that bothered her date.
As Brody stood again and said something else, he pulled out his wallet and
handed over a small white card. The man nodded, took the card, and then shook
his hand.

Jogging back to the truck, Brody climbed into the driver’s
seat, shut the door, and started the engine. Fancy stared at him. “You know
him?”

“Nope.” He backed the vehicle out of the parking spot and
steered toward the exit.

“No? You just bought a homeless stranger food and water? How
did you know he wasn’t a violent crazy person or a criminal or something?” She
knew she sounded shocked, but the man continued to surprise her in many ways.
And each time, it made her like him even more.

He shrugged and pulled out into traffic. “It’s no big deal.
And, yeah, he could have been either of those things, but he’s a Navy veteran,
and that was good enough for me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How did you know that?”

Rubbing his right forearm with the opposite hand, he made a quick
glance in her direction. “The tattoo on his arm is a Navy insignia. He was
walking past me as I was pulling in and I saw it. His name’s Russell Adams, by
the way, if you see him again, and he’s harmless as far as I can tell.”

“We don’t get many homeless hanging out in this area, but
I’ll tell Sal and Miguel if they see him, it’s okay to give him some food and
stuff.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” Throwing on his left turn
signal, he slowed and waited for a break in the traffic. When he parked in front
of the night deposit drawer, he held out his hand. “Give me the bag, I’ll drop
it in.”

He was back in a flash, and with the evening traffic, it took
them almost an hour to get to Tropicana Field in St. Petersburg, and he held
her hand almost the entire time. They chatted about everyday, ordinary things
and Fancy felt herself relax as the butterflies stopped bouncing around her
stomach. Brody was so easy to talk to, and he made her laugh often. There were
so many layers and sides to the man, each one more attractive than the last,
and she wondered why no other woman had snatched him up by now.

It was a beautiful evening, and the dome to the stadium was
open to let in the night air. They stopped at a kiosk and grabbed two beers,
then again he surprised her by heading toward the section behind home plate.
Her eyes bugged out when she realized they were sitting in the field level,
three rows behind the batters. “Oh my God. I’ve never sat behind home plate at
a major league game before. Little League, yes. Major League, no. Are these
your regular seats?”

He gestured for her to proceed him into the row. “No, with my
work, it doesn’t make sense for me to buy season tickets since I never know if
I’m going to make a game or not. I just had a few favors owed to me so I cashed
them in hoping to make a good impression on you.” He paused then grinned at
her. “Is it working?”

Chuckling, she sat and took the plastic cup filled with Bud
Light he handed her. “Maybe. I’ll let you know by the end of the game.”

It was still a few minutes before the first pitch, and she
glanced around. While the majority of people were wearing Tampa Bay shirts and
hats, there was still a fair share supporting the Indians. That was one of the
reasons why she loved Florida so much—there were so many people who had moved
there from other states and countries, so there was always a diverse mix. A
waitress, who catered to the elite section, came over to take their food
order—another first for Fancy at a baseball game—and Brody ordered a sausage
and pepper hero, while she decided on a gyro.

After they had stood for the national anthem, the game
started, and they talked throughout the slugfest, mostly about baseball, and
she could tell he was surprised and pleased she knew quite a bit about the
game. The lead changed hands several times, which had them both booing and
cheering with the crowd depending on who took the lead.

Sitting in the seats in front of them was a couple with a
baby who was about eighteen months old. The little boy was wearing a shirt that
said “New Rays Fan.” He was adorable, and Fancy felt a moment of sadness as she
always did in the presence of young children. To her amazement, every time the
boy looked over his father’s shoulder, Brody either waved at him or made funny
faces that elicited a smile or giggle.

“You’re great with kids,” Fancy told him. “You must have a
lot of nieces and nephews.”

“Oh, yeah. At last count, there are thirteen of them ranging
from twenty-one down to six months old. The oldest is Ian’s goddaughter, Jenn,
who calls all of us ‘uncle.’ Her dad served with us on Team Four. And number
fourteen is due any moment now. Devon and Kristen are having their first, a
boy—” He was interrupted by the roar of the crowd for a long fly ball heading
into home run territory, but went foul. His attention returned to her. “Anyway,
little JD sent his mother into false labor this morning so after a round trip
to the hospital, she’s back at home, and Dev is pulling his hair out in
frustration. I think the guy is going to crack if that kid doesn’t make an
appearance soon. There’s a huge baby pool at work, but my guess at the due date
has come and gone.”

Fancy loved how Brody’s face lit up when he talked about his
two families—his blood family in Texas and his family of friends here in
Florida. He was one of those people who appreciated the little things in life.
She had been that way before Patrick’s death and realized she missed finding
joy in the simple things. It was time to start living that way again, and maybe
this man could be the one to help her do that.

With a final out, it was the end of the fifth inning. The
Kiss Cam appeared on the scoreboard, and, after two couples, a third popped up.
It took Fancy a moment to realize it was Brody and her as they stood while
stretching their legs. As people around them cheered for them to kiss, she blushed
and looked up at him. At six foot two, he towered over her. Grinning he cupped
her cheeks in his hands and slowly leaned down for a kiss, his eyes on hers the
entire time. Her breath hitched a second before their lips touched, and she
swore everyone and everything else disappeared except for the two of them and
the fireworks which filled the sky—at least in her mind. The kiss was tender
and sweet and ended all too soon. The cheering around them quieted as the Kiss
Cam switched off and the at bat player was announced.

Getting her hormones under control, the edges of her mouth
ticked upward as her eyes narrowed at him. “You planned that, didn’t you?”

Brody let out a barked laugh. “I’ll never tell.”

“
Uh-huh
.” The man was incorrigible.

“I do have one question, though.”

She eyed him warily. “What’s that?”

Leaning down again, he whispered in her ear, “Can we do that
again later without an audience?”

Oh, heaven help her!

* * *

Scanning the bar area of The Covenant, Ian took a head count.
Fifteen owners and/or managers from the public and private BDSM clubs in the
area had been able to make it. Only two had been unable to attend, and he had
spoken to their representatives earlier to fill them in. Travis “Tiny” Daultry,
a former professional football player who was now a bodyguard and the head of
security at The Covenant, had agreed to come and play bartender for the meeting
as a courtesy to the others. Mitch had plans with a few college buddies who
were in town, and Ian had filled his cousin in earlier, saying he would handle
the meeting.

Double checking they weren’t waiting for anyone else, Ian
stepped over to where the people at the bar and the others in a nearby sitting
area could all see and hear him. “All right, everyone. Can I have your
attention?”

Several conversations were cut short as they turned to face
him.

“I want to thank everybody for coming despite the short
notice.”

“Your secretary said it was urgent, Sawyer,” said Seth
Markowitz, the owner of The Devil’s Dungeon, from where he was leaning against the
brass railing overlooking the pit. “What’s up?”

Ian crossed his arms and widened his stance. “Had a visit
from Tampa P.D. this afternoon.” Groans and eye rolls filled the room. He held
up a hand to get their attention again. “I know, I know. But this was
necessary. Hey, listen up!” A few people who had started whispering among
themselves shut their traps. “I know the detective who came to me, and it
wasn’t to harass anyone. Apparently, we have three missing female submissives
from the community.”

“Missing? What do you mean missing?”

“Exactly what I said, Seth. About six weeks ago, a new sub
attended a munch and then disappeared from her driveway a few nights later.
Three weeks ago, a sub who is a member of Heat went missing—again, from her
driveway, without a trace. I spoke to Heat’s owner, Chad Thomas, earlier since
he couldn’t make it tonight. The detectives have already interviewed him and
his staff, but they were unable to provide any leads. The woman’s name is
Christie Lawrence, but she goes by the club name ‘Clementine’, and wasn’t
collared by any Dom at the time of her disappearance. The third missing sub is
a former—and now banned—member of The Covenant—Heather Davis.” A few “fucks”
were spat out. Heather may not be on everyone’s list of friends, but she was
known throughout the local BDSM community, as well as her Dom/boyfriend, Scott.
“Her Dom reported her missing at eight this morning, but she wasn’t home when
he got there after 2:00 a.m. Like the others, her car was in the driveway, but
there’s no sign any of them made it into their homes. In Heather’s case, a high
heeled shoe was found under her car.”

Markowitz raised his hand to get Ian’s attention. “Heather
was at my place last night. I’m not sure what time she left, but she was there
at eight when I arrived. I can check the video feeds at the front door, try to
narrow down what time she left, and also see if she was with anyone.”

“Great. That would help a lot. See me before you leave and
I’ll give you Detective Webb’s number at TPD. See if you can get a close up of
the shoes she had on, too.” The man nodded and Ian continued. “Now, at this
time, we have no idea what happened to these women, but the coincidences are
too high to ignore. I’ve already initiated a standing order here that no female
sub goes home unescorted. Those who are unattached will be escorted by either a
volunteer Dom or someone from security.”