Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Autumn
The next morning, I’m in the playroom when male voices cause me to jump out of my skin. My heart races before I can remind myself that whoever I’m hearing probably works with Mace. He warned me that some of his team might come over this morning. I got so distracted that I’m still startled.
Distracting myself has become my full-time job.
This room is filled with everything a Little girl could possibly want, and I’ve explored most of it.
At the moment, I have puzzle pieces spread all over the table.
I’ve just finished putting together the edges of what will be a field of purple flowers.
Abandoning the puzzle, I head toward the front of the apartment. Mace is standing in the living room with two men I haven’t met.
He spots me as I enter, gives me his usual warm smile, and motions me forward.
I glance down at myself and gasp. I forgot I was playing dress-up earlier. I’m wearing a ridiculously frilly lavender dress and panties. That’s it. I didn’t even put a bra on under the dress. My feet are bare.
Eyes wide, I slowly back up, mortified.
Mace holds out a hand. “Come here, Baby girl. I want you to meet Ghost and Tank. Trust me, neither of them is concerned about your dress. They’re both Daddy Doms, too. They see Eloise and June all the time.”
I freeze, still unnerved in front of strangers. Both men are smiling politely at me, though.
“Don’t fret, Little one,” the larger of the men says. “Been a Daddy for all my adult life. I’ve seen everything.” He has nearly black hair and a thick black beard.
“He’s right,” agrees the other man. His hair is brown, and his beard is cut short—almost in the same style as Mace. His eyes are a piercing blue, so clear I can see them from across the room. “Same here.”
I hold my breath as I inch closer. Why didn’t I change clothes after I was done trying things on? I know why—I like this dress, so I left it on. It makes me feel fun and carefree, which I need in my life right now.
When I get close enough, Mace pulls me in front of him, flattening my back to his front with an arm over my shoulder and a palm between my breasts, anchoring me to him. He points toward the darker-haired man. “Autumn, this is Tank.” His finger shifts to the other man. “And Ghost.”
At some point, I need to ask Mace where everyone’s nickname comes from. I’m aware of the fact that people in the military often have unusual nicknames for a variety of reasons. I know the jargon. After all, my father was in the Army. But I haven’t asked Mace why he’s called that yet.
Finding my words, I respond, “Nice to meet you.”
“You, too, Little one,” Ghost says.
Tank nods, his eyes crinkling with his smile.
I glance at Mace. “Where does your nickname come from?”
Tank smirks. “He’s a time traveler. He used to kill bad guys for sport with a heavy iron mace in the Middle Ages.”
I giggle.
Mace groans. “Nothing quite that interesting. Sorry, sweetheart. The truth is, I threw the shot put in high school. The guys thought I looked like I was wielding a mace, and the moniker stuck even years later.”
“Huh, I think you should go with the Middle Age vigilante story.”
Mace chuckles as he pats my chest and looks up at Ghost and Tank again. “I assume you’re here to tell me something about the investigation?”
Both men sober as they shift their attention from me to Mace.
Ghost runs a hand over his head and sighs. “Yes.” He glances at me.
I stiffen. They better not think they’re going to ban me from the room while they discuss my father’s murder.
“You’re not going to like it,” Tank adds, his voice clipped.
“I don’t like a single detail about Burke’s death. Not sure how it could get any worse.”
“Oh, but it can.” Ghost winces. His hand slides from his head to run down his face.
“Look, I’ll be honest. If Autumn were my girl and the shoe were on the other foot, I would want to hear this without her and then fill her in carefully.
But I also suspect any Little girl of mine would have a backbone and stomp her foot if I tried to coddle her like that. ”
I twist my head to look up at Mace. “Don’t you dare discuss my father’s killer behind my back.”
His expression is tight, his jaw clenched, as he looks from me back to Ghost.
“He’s right,” Tank adds. “It’s not pretty.”
I put my hands on my hips and stand as tall as I can. “I’m not an actual child,” I argue. “I’m an adult. I don’t want you to sugarcoat this ugly situation. Nor do I want you to send me away and give me a summary later.”
Mace sighs. “My office?”
Both men nod.
Mace takes my hand and leads me across the room. Thank goodness he hasn’t decided to lock me in a closet or something because that’s what he would have had to do in order to keep me from listening to this information.
His office is large, and there are plenty of places to sit. He drops onto his main desk chair and pulls me between his legs while Ghost and Tank drag two other chairs over to the bank of monitors.
Ghost is holding a laptop, and he sets it on the desk before reaching for a cord that connects it to one of the large monitors. I know this because his home screen pops up in front of me.
Instead of opening anything, he leans back and crosses his arms. His gaze shifts back and forth between me and Mace.
I feel like he’s still pondering his options, or at least how he’s going to deliver whatever he has to say.
Eventually, he drops his arms, palms his mouse, and clicks a file on the home screen.
A man pops up, and I gasp, confused.
“I take it you know who this is?” Tank asks.
“Of course. That’s Frank Samson. He’s one of my father’s Army buddies. He happens to be from Indianapolis, too. They play poker together sometimes. He can’t possibly have anything to do with my father’s murder.”
Tank nods. “You know that saying, ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’?”
The blood drains from my face. This can’t be happening. I’ve met Frank on many occasions over the years. I would even say that he looked up to my father in the same way Mace did.
Ghost leans in, setting his elbows on his knees as if it might help if he makes himself smaller. “Your father didn’t trust him. He was on his list of possible enemies.”
I can’t breathe. My legs are wobbling.
Mace grabs my waist, lifts me, and sets me on one knee, keeping an arm around me.
“Why?” I ask, absently.
Tank looks at Mace. “We hired a PI in Indianapolis to work this case. His name is Anthony Bryant.”
Mace nods. “I know him.”
Tank continues, “He broke into Samson’s house to do some snooping. I’m pretty sure what he found shocked even him, and he’s a seasoned investigator. Said he thought he’d seen it all, but he was wrong.”
Mace’s arms tighten around me. “Go ahead.”
Ghost clicks on another file, which opens to reveal a small room that looks like a scene out of a crime drama series. It’s covered with boards, littered with photos and sticky notes.
Ghost shifts his attention to us. “In addition to the sheer insanity that was the inside of his house, our investigator found journals. Apparently, he’s been playing the long game with James Burke.
I hate to say this, but he put on an amazing show for two years, all while plotting an elaborate takedown. ”
“Why?” My voice squeaks. I can’t wrap my head around this.
Tank leans back and threads his fingers behind his head. “He was married. His wife divorced him when he got home from deployment. He has a history of violence and abuse. He blamed your father.”
I flinch. “What? Why?”
Tank inhales deeply. “I guess he thought—as his commanding officer—your father was to blame for him being engaged in battles that left him with emotional damage that then destroyed his marriage. He ended his second tour near the same time your father retired. Two years ago.”
I’m stunned. “And he pretended to be my father’s friend for the past two years, all while plotting his murder? Why not just kill him a long time ago?”
Tank glances at Mace and back to me. “This is where things get ugly.”
I point at his computer. “You’ve got more. Show me.” I’m shaking now. I don’t know what I’m going to see, but I know I’m not going to like it.
Mace holds me with one hand and reaches out with the other to grab Ghost’s forearm. “Hang on. Prepare us before you show us.”
“How much worse can it get?” I ask, confused.
“I’m shocked. I thought Frank was my father’s friend.
I’m struggling to believe he could have murdered him.
I see that you have an abundance of evidence, but I’m having trouble wrapping my head around it.
He broke into my home and laced my father’s water with a deadly drug.
It was heinous and despicable.” I twist to look at Mace directly.
“I hope you hang him by his fucking toes and cut a hole in the top of his head so that all his blood drains out slowly.”
Mace’s eyes widen. “Sweetheart, how about if you leave that side of things to me?”
“It’s not a bad idea, though,” Tank interjects, chuckling.
“I agree,” Ghost adds.
Mace groans as he narrows his gaze. “There’s more.”
Tank’s face scrunches. “This wasn’t the first time Samson broke into the house.
He’s been doing it for a while. Snooping around.
When we went through the cameras Burke had in his home, we didn’t realize there were more.
These weren’t in his own security system.
Samson put his own surveillance cameras in the house.
He knew where Burke’s were located and avoided his system almost entirely. ”
“More cameras?” I ask.
Mace squeezes me too tightly.
Tank glances at me. “The detective discovered the incoming feeds on a monitor in Samson’s house. He has cameras all over, including in your room and bathroom.”
If there’s any blood left in my head, it drains to my feet. I can’t breathe as I consider what Tank is saying.
Cameras… In my room… That means Frank has been spying on me. He’s seen me naked. He’s watched me in the shower, on the toilet. In bed… He’s watched me fucking masturbate.
Mace wraps his free arm around me and hoists me closer against his chest. His palm comes to the side of my head as he tips my cheek to his shoulder. He’s stiff, but he’s being as gentle as he can with me.
Ghost’s voice is softer when he continues, “Based on the information the PI gathered, we think Samson’s plan was to swoop in after the tragic death of Autumn’s father and save the day. Take over her life in her grief.”
Tank winces. “The problem is she left town, and he has no idea where she went. He’s confused because he watched our men come in and retrieve the body.
He must have assumed they were from the coroner’s office.
Everything has been cleaned up in the house, and there’s been no report of his death anywhere.
I must say, if there’s any satisfaction in all this, it’s rather gratifying watching that fucker pace his house, pulling his hair out, while he monitors cameras that have no activity. He’s losing his mind.”
“And he has no idea he’s been made?” Mace asks.
“Not a clue, but our guy downloaded a lot of video clips, tapped into the live feed Samson runs of Autumn’s room, and left his own sophisticated surveillance, so now we’re spying on Samson.”
I close my eyes. The only thing I can picture is me fingering myself under the covers.
Luckily, I’m not the sort of person who regularly sprawls out naked on my bed and humps myself.
But I’ve also masturbated in the bathtub.
The asshole wouldn’t have seen much under the bubbles, nor heard much over the sound of the jets, but I’m so fucking humiliated that I want to die.
Mace’s teeth are clenched as he says, “Please tell me no one on our team has watched my girl alone in her room.”
Tank shakes his head. “Definitely not. The only clip I was going to show you is a recent one, so you can see the angle of his camera. No one is in the room because Autumn is right here with us.”
“And the PI?” Mace groans and leans back, holding me against him with both hands. “Sorry, don’t answer that. I know Anthony Bryant would never violate someone’s privacy. I’m just fucking furious.”
“I know you are,” Ghost says in a soft tone. “Fully understand. Bryant was well-aware of the possibilities. It’s a woman’s bedroom. All he did was copy the files Samson saved. He didn’t open any of them.”
I can’t breathe. Even if none of these men who work for Black Blade Protection have watched me naked or masturbating in my own fucking private bedroom, Frank has.
Frank Samson. That motherfucker. I thought he was a friend.
I’m so fucking angry that I want to stab him to death by myself. Starting with his balls.
Tank continues, “The guy has a calendar. He’s incredibly particular.
He assumed Autumn would call the police immediately when she found her father dead.
He planned around that with precision, plotting exactly when he would show up with his condolences and how long he would stay.
He really believed he could swoop in, take over Autumn’s life, and steal something from Burke that he believes Burke stole from him. ”
“And where is this fucking piece of pond scum now?” Mace asks.
“Not sure, unfortunately. He left with a backpack early this morning and hasn’t returned yet. Bryant didn’t imagine him leaving the house at that hour, so he was sleeping. He’s monitoring the feeds he installed in both houses. As soon as he spots Samson, he will let us know.”
I seriously can’t breathe, and Mace suddenly notices. He scoots back, grabs my chin, and looks in my eyes. “Take a breath, Baby girl.”
I can’t. It’s stuck in my lungs. I’m growing lightheaded, but my mind won’t send messages to my body, important messages that involve keeping me alive.
“Autumn,” Mace commands. “A breath, sweetheart. Now.”
My face feels hot, and when he shakes me, it yanks me out of my trance. I suck in a giant lungful of air and let it out just as fast, gasping.
“Good girl. Again, Baby.” He holds my gaze while I breathe, inhaling with me.
I’m on the verge of tears, but I won’t let them fall. I shake them off. I won’t give that asshole the satisfaction of breaking me. I’ll cry for the loss of my father, but not Frank Samson.
As soon as I can form a sentence, I grab the front of Mace’s shirt and fist it. “When you find him, you’ll cut off his balls and feed them to him one at a time?”
He smirks. “Yes, Baby girl.”