Page 14 of The Enforcer

The round window was enormous, with an inviting window seat that looked out over Lake Michigan. There was also a large St. Andrew’s cross constructed within a wheel. If someone wanted to, it could be rolled in front of the window and secured in place. It was difficult not to wonder what Alicia might look like strapped to the cross waiting for his discipline or pleasure. One thing was for sure: if she was his sub, she’d be facing at the very least a trip over his knee.

The window on the other side of the massive support structure of the building was equally sized, but not round and not set up for play. It had a cozy, reading nook kind of feel with a recliner and floor lamp. There was a basket set beside it with a pillow and a throw. Perfect, in his opinion, for aftercare or just a little bit of snuggling.

“I think you know the windows are bullet and tornado proof. Even if someone wanted to climb up the side or drop down from the roof, they couldn’t get in.” He chuckled. “King always likes to say that we aren’t sure if even a missile could shatter them.”

“I’m going to say this again: none of this is necessary. I just wasn’t expecting my ex, and we didn’t part amicably…”

Brock laid his finger on her lips—the same lips he’d been wanting to crush with his own for the longest time and way before this evening.

“Don’t, Alicia. I know you’re not telling me everything. There’s a whole lot more to this story than you’re willing to say.” The softness in her body and eyes fled like a deer bounding away to safety. Why didn’t she understand that he and Cerberus were safety?

“Brock, I…”

“I know, baby girl. I can give you some time to come round to knowing you need to tell me what’s going on. But I can’t wait forever. You should know, though, that you’re a terrible liar, so it’s best not to try.”

Brock left her standing there and headed down to a small set of sleeping quarters close to the elevator. Sometimes if one of the operatives needed a place to stay, they’d use one of the other rooms—either one of the secure suites on this floor or one of the playrooms on the second. But Brock wanted to be close to the elevator as a first or last—depending on your point of view—line of defense. If someone was coming off that elevator, Brock meant to stop them. Conversely, if Alicia tried to leave, he would be in a better position to stop her.

He double-checked the security system and locked down the elevator. Going through the non-descript door, which looked more like a janitor’s closet than a place to sleep, he debated about how undressed he should get. She’d indicated she was staying, but he wasn’t sure he believed her.

Toeing off his boots, Brock opened the gun safe in the wall and withdrew a SIG Sauer P226 E2, checking to ensure it was loaded and a bullet was in the chamber. He sent a quick message to King, giving him a brief rundown of the night’s events. Setting the gun on the side table, Brock shucked off his jeans and sweater, opting to get down to his boxer briefs before stretching out on the oversized twin bed.

* * *

Brock wasn’t sure how long he was asleep, but when the alarm went off, he came awake immediately, reaching for his loaded SIG. He figured it was most likely Alicia, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

Throwing open the door, he burst into the hallway in his skivvies just as Alicia was using her security code to unlock the elevator. He wrapped his muscular arm around her waist and hauled her in close, hoping she wouldn’t notice or at least comment on the morning wood he was displaying. He normally woke with wood, but being this near Alicia made his cock hungry. Again, he wished they were a couple, and she was his submissive. Nothing like turning her backside a pretty shade of pink before shoving his cock inside her and making her scream his name as she orgasmed.

“Put me down,” she said with controlled anger. He’d never thought of her as having a temper, but then he’d never thought of her as Sonata Royale.

“I don’t think so. Give me a minute to get dressed and we’ll go down for breakfast.”

“The chef isn’t on duty. He doesn’t come in until eleven.”

“No worries. I’m not a bad cook and I know you aren’t, either. I’m willing to bet we can find something to eat.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not much.” He placed her directly opposite the janitor-closet sleeping quarters.

“I didn’t know that was in there. I always thought it was like a broom closet or maybe an armory, but not some place to sleep.”

“Well, now you know. You stay.” He backed into the room and got dressed without ever closing the door. “All right, baby girl, how about you and I go downstairs and get some breakfast?”

CHAPTER 6

ALICIA

Alicia had a restless night, due mostly to highly erotic dreams about Brock. When he’d called her baby girl in that deep, melodious voice, she’d thought she was going to melt into a gooey puddle. Her nipples had come to attention and her pussy had softened and ripened for him in a way she’d never known. She was fairly sure she’d only barely resisted the instinct and inclination to sink to her knees and offer him her submission—not that he wanted it, but god, he was dreamy. If a woman could have a wet dream, he was hers.

Her plan had been to slip away from Cerberus and then out of Chicago, but she’d overslept. She was fairly sure that she had because for the first time in a long time, she’d felt safe. She knew down to the marrow of her bones that here inside these walls or within Brock’s strong embrace, she would be safe.

Last night he’d semi-threatened that she wouldn’t like it if he focused on her. He couldn’t have been more wrong. She would have given her eye teeth to have Brock Wickersham focus on her, and not necessarily in a private way. After he’d left her, she’d wandered over to the St. Andrew’s cross, touching it reverently. She wondered what it might be like to be bound naked to it, feeling Brock’s flogger lay marks and weals across her major muscle groups.

In her dreams there were so many things he would do to her, including having her sit at his feet after turning her backside a bright shade of pink. He was the club’s main disciplinarian and Alicia had never known a woman who didn’t want to make that connection permanent. More than one sub had tried to get him to collar her or at least be in an exclusive relationship, but they had all failed.

Brock was what was known as a ‘Daddy Dom,’ and if he’d called her ‘kitten’ or ‘princess’ it wouldn’t have had near the effect as having him call her ‘baby girl.’ It had all but made her toes curl, and when she’d glanced at the big, overstuffed recliner in the room, she’d wanted nothing more than to be wrapped in a blanket, cuddled up in his lap. But that was meant for other girls. For one thing, she was too big, and for another, she had way too much baggage and some of that baggage was dangerous, if not downright lethal.

She shouldn’t have been surprised to find Kingston Coltraine, the head of Cerberus in Chicago, already in the kitchen.

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