DutyBoundARe (33 page)

Next up, the staff has been fielding some interest in bringing Kinky Girl to some conventions, and we’ve gotten quite a few inquiries that are essentially, will you be near me?

I’m sorry, but no. Kinky Girl is an anonymous forum. Should the bloggers choose to go public and present, that’s great. More power to them. But Kinky Girl as either the site or myself will not be making an appearance. From the beginning I’ve striven to maintain an anonymous, safe platform for people to speak out about their lifestyles, current events, and what they can do to better the kink community through this site. I feel that by going public with our identities, we will lose some of the freedom to be ourselves. In addition, a number of our contributors have lives, jobs, and families that are unconnected to our kink lifestyles.

This following question was asked by a small handful of people who chose to share their stories with either myself or the staff as a whole. Let me speak first to the shared experience. For those of us who have experienced abuse, there is a part of us that might always carry the scars—and that’s okay. We can still overcome it, through our personal journeys, by opening ourselves up to trust and love again. It’s hard. We hurt. The triggers we live with change the way we live and interact with others. And yes, to answer the question posed to us, I and the staff believe that the victims of abuse can find love again. We can be loved and give love, and more than that—we deserve it as much as anyone else does.

Okay kinksters, I have three hot guys waiting for me to get into bed. Here’s the latest addition to my little family. His name is Porkchop and he likes to gnaw on my toes. I know all our foot fetishist followers are awfully jealous of this little guy. The new polish is a matte purple from an independent online store that sent me samples. I promise to update later with the buy links.

Love you kinky people,

KG

Lisette rose slowly to consciousness
. The room was still dark and the comforting weight of a sixty-pound dog was across her feet. One leg was mostly numb while the other was wet.

Not a good sign.

Mathieu had his back to her and was whispering into his cell phone. She was too groggy to catch anything he said and far more concerned for why the bed was wet. She sat up and placed her hand on top of the spot. The unmistakable aroma of dog and pee hit her in the face.

The puppy.

They’d fallen asleep with the puppy in bed with them.

She groaned and Mathieu turned toward her, his face half illuminated by the glow of his cell phone. It would have been an eerily beautiful picture, were she not half-covered in dog pee.

Lisette managed to get out from under Gator and swung her legs off the bed. She hissed as the blood rushed into her right foot and wiggled her toes as the sensation of pins and needles poking her sole shot up her nerves.

She patted the bed, scared of what else Porkchop might have left for them to find. The puppy was curled up against Gator, sound asleep. She felt bad picking him up, but neither did she want him to piddle on the bed again. Limping her way into the living room, she swaddled Porkchop in one of Mathieu’s old, ratty shirts so he would sleep with the scent of his human pack around him and left the still snoozing puppy in his crate.

Mathieu filled the doorway to the bedroom when she turned around.

“What’s going on?” She didn’t know if she wanted him to tell her or not.

“I—uh—I have to go in. Now.” He didn’t seem pleased about that at all.

A drop of fear snaked through her veins, spreading dread, her heart rate kicked up and the muscles around her chest constricted. She’d be alone.

“There’s another kid missing. They’re working sources to find them. I’m sorry.”

How could she be upset about that?

“Go.” She closed the distance between them and lifted up on tip-toe to press a kiss to his mouth. She could do that now, without fear that she was fabricating something between them—because it was already there. On both sides.

“Patrol is going to come by sooner, I think every half hour, and they’ll call you every hour. As soon as I know who is on duty, I’ll text you their numbers so you know to answer. Can you call Leo to come over?”

“He’s still in Shreveport.”

“Damn, and Lola is in Baton Rouge and I have no idea where Odalia is.”

“I’ll be fine. Go. Those kids need to be found.”

She managed to say the words and mean them, but deep down she was scared. When he left, she’d be alone while she did laundry in the basement, while she took the dogs out for a walk and while she was here, waiting for him to get back. Alone with her thoughts and jumping at every sound that could be Seth.

“I’ll check in on you.”

“I’ll make you something to eat really quick.” She gave him a little push into the bedroom before retreating to the kitchen to have her meltdown in private.

If Mathieu saw her shaking like a leaf, he wouldn’t leave her. And she couldn’t be the reason he didn’t go out and try to find the kids. She gripped the kitchen counter and blew out a breath. Gator’s nails clicked against the floor as he followed her into the kitchen and licked her bare thigh.

“It’s just going to be us today. Think you can protect me?” She knelt and stared into his dark eyes.

Gator strained toward her until their noses touched. She smiled and gave him a scratch.

Right. Breakfast. There were things to do and a man to see out of the door.

She washed her hands and put together a quick sandwich. It wasn’t anything fancy or even breakfast-like, but she couldn’t send him out the door without something in his stomach.

Mathieu appeared as if summoned, and accepted her offering of food with a smile.

“Thank you.”

She lifted up for another kiss, soaking up all his confidence and courage. She’d need all she could get to make it through the day without her imagination killing her. Mathieu held her against his chest with an arm around her waist. He pressed his mouth to hers, deepening the kiss. Warmth spread through her abdomen, curling up through her chest.

“I’ll be back,” he said in a low, husky voice.

“Alright, Terminator. I’ll see you tonight.”

He gave her one last smile before stepping through the door and into the hall. She slid the locks into place and leaned her back against it.

The tremors didn’t come; fear didn’t lock her into place. A creepy-crawly sensation danced up her spine, but that was it. Maybe she was stronger than she realized.

Lisette jumped in the shower and washed off in a hurry. She could hear Porkchop whining and it was early enough the neighbors were probably still asleep. She hurriedly got dressed and wrangled the harnesses and leashes onto both dogs.

It’ll be okay, she chanted to herself as she let Gator take the lead. Porkchop mostly bounced around, following the older dog or chasing her shoelaces. Regardless, they got down to the street and struck off toward the dog park. Mathieu might have gotten nasty looks and told to stay away, but she’d been lucky so far. Hell, most of the time the park was empty when she went.

Every five or ten feet she glanced over her shoulder, but nothing was there. People walked to and fro, on their way to work or out for a jog. She was just another of the early morning risers.

She breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe today wasn’t going to be that bad.

Seth stared at the blonde woman
in his binoculars.

She was out and alone. He’d seen Detective Mouton leave the building shortly before Lisette stepped out with the dogs.

Finally, he could wrap things up.

But not now. There was too much traffic. Once the morning rush was over, she’d be alone in the building.

It would be a fitting end, to leave her for the man who thought to own her to find. Maybe Mouton would learn his place then.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Blood

Mathieu stared at the map spread out on top of a patrol car. Officers were canvassing the neighborhood, but like all the other snatch and grab jobs with the kids, no one had seen anything amiss.

“Nothing, all they remember was the ice cream truck coming by this morning,” a tall, lanky officer Mathieu didn’t know said.

“An ice cream truck? Isn’t it a bit early for that?” It was barely past ten. They’d been all over the neighborhood. The kids weren’t there.

“Hey man, sometimes you just need your fudge pop. I’ll start over here.” The officer tapped a street that was at the edge of their area and possibly the only stretch of houses they hadn’t knocked on.

Not that people were talking to them. This was a low-income area; the families were suspicious of cops, especially the parents of the teenage girl who’d gone missing. It was the type of area where a disappearance might go unnoticed or ignored, if it weren’t for the profile.

Whoever it was that was doing the snatch and grabs wanted teenagers, boys or girls, between the ages of thirteen and fifteen, with brown hair. It didn’t seem to matter the color of their skin. Today’s victim was black. The four previous were a Hispanic, Caucasian twins, and a Filipino. If they didn’t find the suspect or suspects soon, people would start a witch hunt, and then the city would be in an uproar.

He shook his head. It was a disturbing business, all of it. He needed to clear his head so he pulled his phone out and dialed his favorite number.

“Hello Detective Mouton,” a seductive woman’s voice purred on the other end of the line.

“Ms. Babineaux, how are you this morning?” He walked away from the officers, to the edge of the area they’d taken to set up a little headquarters.

“Good. We’ve had a shower, a walk and everyone has had a bath. Next up is laundry.”

He winced. “How bad was it? I picked up his little present.”

“Oh, then you must have missed the pee.”

“He what? That little dog pissed in my bed?” Mathieu couldn’t believe it. He paced up and down the sidewalk, fisting his free hand. Piss. In his bed.

“Yup. All over me.” A door creaked and he could hear the sound of Gator’s panting.

“I cannot believe that.”

“He’s a puppy with a tiny bladder.” She grunted and her breath rattled the phone speaker.

“He pissed in my bed. I can’t believe how ungrateful that little thing is.”

Lisette merely laughed. “Oh, whatever. He’s a puppy. It’ll wash out.”

“Yeah, whatever. We’re going linen shopping tonight when I get off.”

“Alright, Detective, I’m about to go into the basement. I’ll lose you in a minute. Come on Porkchop, they’re just stairs, you can do it.” She must be going down the rear staircase. It was the only direct way to access the laundry room. The building was a warren of dead ends and nonsensical hallways.

“You’re taking the dogs with you?”

“Yeah, don’t tell anyone, okay?” Her voice echoed in the stairwell.

“Fine.” His landlord would have a fit over it, but he preferred the idea of her guarded by Gator. The pit bull was docile, but if someone messed with his humans, Gator would tap into his wilder side and protect his pack, human or canine.

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later.”

Mathieu glanced over his shoulder, but no one was paying him any mind. “Hey, Lissy?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.” There was freedom in saying those three little words.

Lisette merely chuckled, unphased by his admission. “I love you, too. Come home to me soon, okay?”

“Will do.”

He hung up, smiling at his phone. There was a future there, and even with the threat of Seth looming over them, he wouldn’t change anything. Not one minute.

Lisette’s arms ached
. The basket of bed linens was far heavier than she’d expected it to be. She set the basket down on the landing and scooped Porkchop up. The puppy wiggled and squirmed, but didn’t mind her putting him on top of the pile.

“Okay, let’s try this now, shall we?” She hauled the basket up onto her hip. “Come on, Gator, just two more flights.”

The older dog rose to his feet and padded down the stairs. She’d tied his leash to her belt loop to free up her hands. She was pretty sure that she could just take the leash and harness off and Gator would follow her, but then other people would complain if they were seen. She’d take the complaints over the alternative of feeling alone and scared. At least with Gator and Porkchop she felt a small measure of protection. Maybe not from the puppy who was more interested in licking her face right now, but he kept her busy thinking about him and not Seth.

It was a chore keeping her mind and hands busy without Mathieu there. She’d bathed both dogs, no small accomplishment, just to fill an hour. Though she hadn’t yet shaken the feeling that Seth was out there, waiting in the shadows, she was trying to put on a brave face and go about her day. Still, she had to pause and give herself a little pep talk at the end of the stairs as she stared down the long hallway. It was awfully secluded and soundproofed from the rest of the building, with only maintenance rooms here and there that were never opened.

The laundry room was in the basement at the end of a long hallway, toward the back of the building. It was a dingy room, with dust bunnies and lint balls hiding in every corner. Even the small, rectangular windows toward the ceiling were covered in grime. A city of lost socks had taken up residence along the only open bit of wall space. The washers and dryers sat in two rows, back to back. In the evenings it was a busy place, and those doing laundry sat on top of their washers, protecting it from poachers who would either replace the laundry with their own, or toss items in looking for a free spin. Today, it was just her and the dogs.

She loaded up two washers with all the linens and the towels from the dog’s bath. What she wouldn’t give for her own washroom right now. Porkchop plunged into the sock pile, happy to make a plaything out of a bit of cotton, while Gator lay down at her feet. It seemed as if it wasn’t just her Porkchop was tiring out today.

“He’s a handful, isn’t he, Gator?”

Gator lifted his head, ears perked up and his tail slowly whipping back and forth.

“Yeah, I know. I’m the one who woke up with pee all over me.”