The Black Widow (17 page)

‘Having fun, gentlemen?’

Sam glanced up at the sound of the voice, then quickly looked down again. In an instant all thoughts of arousal and pleasure were wrenched from her mind. An untapped instinct for self-preservation took over and she eased one of Arthur’s hands away from her sex.

Because she did not attempt to move the other, Arthur allowed his finger to remain on the edge of Sam’s pussy lips, still maintaining the threat of penetration.

Barely aware of his intimate touch now, Sam tried to think of a casual way to extricate herself from the table. She hoped that the blonde wig would cover her face from Faye’s view, or that the woman would be too blasé about her lap dancers to bother looking at any of them. This was Sam’s second evening at the Good Night Club and, while she was already aware of the rules that surrounded Faye’s table, she had only dared visit it while Faye was absent from the building. This was the first time the woman had come close to her, and Sam wondered if she should have gone for a more concealing disguise than the simple blonde wig she wore. Mentally, she crossed her fingers and prayed for good luck.

Aware of a stiffening in the woman’s posture, she realised that good luck was not going to be on her side this evening. Her hopes of remaining undetected began to dissipate as soon as she felt Faye’s manicured fingers touch her bare shoulder.

‘Who are you?’ Faye asked abruptly. There was a shard of ice on her tone.

Sam was not surprised to see the shocked expressions that crossed the faces of Derek and Arthur: they were clearly worried that she must have heard their conversation. They glanced inquisitively from Sam, then to Faye, then back to Sam again. She felt one of the notes being snatched rudely from beneath her garter and realised it was Arthur who had done this. He clearly did not feel any need to tip her if she was not one of Faye’s lap dancers – but that did not explain why he left his finger nestling against her pussy.

‘I want to know who you are,’ Faye repeated sharply. ‘You’re not one of my regular girls, but I know you, don’t I?’

Sam raised her head slightly and risked a nervous smile through the fringe of her blonde wig. She tried to remember the name she had given on her application, suspecting she had gone for one of the character names from
Star Trek
. But she had filled out the form two days earlier and trying to recall the name she had glibly scrawled was now beyond her.

‘Tell me who you are,’ Faye said. The note of anger in her voice was now rising meteorically. ‘I know your face but you’re not one of my regular staff, are you?’ She raised her hand and snapped her fingers, summoning someone from the shadows.

‘Who the hell is she, Faye?’ Arthur demanded. There was a strong current of panic in his voice which made his tone sound strident and unpleasant. ‘Do you allow any strange young woman to come dancing topless in front of your patrons?’

‘This wouldn’t be your first visit if you thought we allowed that,’ Faye remarked dryly. She glared unhappily at Sam, then glanced past her. Her gaze returned to Sam’s face. ‘This is your last chance. Tell me now or you’ll be in real trouble. Who are you?’

Sam realised that the summoned help was closing in and her options were dwindling. She stood up, threw her shoulders back and tried to remain nonchalant about her near nudity. With one careless hand, she snatched the blonde wig from her head and released her own glorious mane of vibrant red tresses. At the same time, she reached into the small pocket of her short skirt, produced her glasses case, then donned her wire-framed spectacles.

Faye Meadows stifled a gasp of surprise. ‘Which one are you? Valentine or Flowers? You’re one of the investigators, aren’t you? You’re the senior partner, right? Flowers?’

Sam opened her mouth, flattered by the promotion this client had given her. Before she had a chance to reply, Arthur was on his feet and shouting angrily at Faye. ‘Are you saying she’s a fucking investigator? Why the hell have you got a fucking investigator patrolling us?’ He glared furiously at Sam, then turned his attention back to Faye. ‘This does it for me. Derek and I are leaving.’

Sam was about to intervene, when she felt two pairs of hands grab her from behind. She glanced nervously over each shoulder, not surprised to see two of the nightclub’s doormen staring impassively back at her. Dressed in their uniforms of black suits, white shirts and black bow ties, they looked as cold and uncommunicative as the penguins their clothes had been modelled on. She made a brief attempt to struggle free but their hands held her tightly.

‘I haven’t had her patrolling you,’ Faye explained hurriedly. She was struggling to keep a reasonable tone to her voice, attempting to placate the two men. ‘I have no idea why she’s here. I’ll find that out in a moment, but let me assure you I’d employed her on a completely different matter.’

Arthur waved a silencing hand high in the air. ‘Don’t try and squirm your way out of it. You can forget about getting any help with your insurance claim now. Derek and I will return your file. You’re no longer on our books.’

‘No!’ Faye declared sharply. ‘This is ridiculous. Please, no!’ she glared at Sam, then glanced at one of the doormen. ‘Take her to my office, and wait in there with her,’ she barked. Realising Arthur and Derek were walking past her, Faye quickly tried to stop them from leaving the building.

Sam knew she could not intervene. The two doormen were tugging her away and they seemed determined to follow Faye’s instructions explicitly. She allowed them to turn her round and lead her away. The waitress she had been admiring walked past, and Sam was shocked to see the woman was scowling at her. The thought that she had lost all hope of winning the waitress’s affections hit harder than the danger of her predicament. Miserably, she cursed the situation she had landed herself in. Around her, the nightclub’s music continued to beat from the speakers at a deafening volume. The rest of the clientele continued about the business of enjoying themselves, oblivious to her plight.

*   *   *

‘Thank you,’ Faye growled as she entered the office. She stared angrily at Sam as she barked, ‘Thank you for fucking over that little deal. Thank you for fucking over a business relationship I’ve been building for over two years and thank you for pushing my business empire one big step closer to the edge of a bottomless precipice.’ She slammed the door closed as if to emphasise the enormity of her anger. Glaring at Sam, she pointed a threatening finger and hissed, ‘You’re going to pay for this, you little bitch.’

Sam studied her with a relaxed expression, unintimidated by the woman’s menacing display. The office was a complete contrast to the dimly lit intimacy of the nightclub. This room was lit by bright neon strip lights. The walls were a sterile white hidden behind overladen shelves. Books, box files, plastic trays and bundles of dog-eared receipts completed most of the room’s decor. The sound of the nightclub’s music pulsed from the walls but now it was a distant murmur.

Sam had made herself comfortable in a padded swivel chair. She was still wearing nothing but the short skirt and stockings, her guard having chosen lechery over chivalry. Between her legs she was holding a book borrowed from one of the shelves. She closed it slowly, allowing Faye to read the title:
Greek Fables and Mythology
.

When she selected the book, Sam’s guard had made one or two remarks about her enjoying ‘Greek’, but she had ignored his comments, aware of an urgent need to look up something relevant. She made a point of letting Faye see what she had been reading before sliding the book back to its spaced on the shelf. Trying not to be too obvious, she allowed the spine to jut out a little further than the hardback volumes on either side. She had to stand up and lean over a desk to put the book away, unconsciously displaying her backside and sex to Faye and the doorman. Remembering that she was not wearing pants, she realised that her exposed sex was on view to them. Trying not to show any discomfort with this thought, she moved slowly away from the shelf and brushed the hem of her skirt back down with a gesture that was almost casual.

‘You,’ Faye snapped. Sam saw the woman was talking to her guard. ‘Fuck off out of here. I don’t want to be disturbed.’ There was a crisp note of authority in her voice that defied any challenge he might have raised.

Nodding curtly, he made for the door. Sam noticed that he graced her topless body with one last, rueful expression. In his eyes she could see an unfulfilled yearning that he had obviously hoped she could satisfy. For a brief instant she thought she saw a glimmer of pity in his face, as though he knew she was about to suffer some diabolical misfortune at Faye’s hands. And then he was gone.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Faye flicked the button on the battered Yale, locking them in together. She turned slowly to face Sam, a cruel smile on her lips. ‘One question,’ Faye said simply. She took a step closer to Sam as she spoke. ‘One question, and I want an answer. How much do you know?’

Stepping nervously back, Sam swallowed. ‘I don’t understand,’ she began. ‘How much do I know about –’

Faye slapped her face. The sound of her flattened palm cracking against Sam’s cheek echoed in the small office. Sam stifled a shocked gasp, raising a hand to her aching jaw. She stared miserably at Faye, aware of the menacing glint in her ice-blue eyes. The hard set of her mouth, the thin line of her lips and the cruel sneer that curled her nose were more than familiar. At school, Sam had once been the subject of a beating from school prefects. The girl who initiated that beating had worn an identical expression to the one she could now see on Faye’s face.

‘This is your one and only chance to get out of here without really suffering,’ Faye told her, pointing a dramatic finger towards Sam’s face. ‘And I strongly recommend that you grasp it with both hands. Tell me how much you know or, God help you, I’ll make you tell me.’

Sam held her ground, standing defiantly in front of the woman. ‘If you’d let me explain,’ she began, quelling the nervous tremor that threatened to shake her steady voice. ‘I only came here because –’

Faye slapped her again. This time the force of the blow was hard enough to knock Sam down. She was fortunate that the padded swivel chair was behind her when she fell, otherwise she would have been staring up from the floor like a broken rag doll. She glared up from the seat, beseeching Faye with a pained and frightened expression. Her near nudity did not seem to trouble the woman and that realisation only added to Sam’s fear.

‘You know about Malcolm, don’t you?’ Faye barked. ‘You know about him and the insurance claim, and I suspect you’ve been talking with Sky.’ She glared furiously at Sam, the passionate glower in her eyes demanding some sort of response. ‘What were the Knight brothers saying?’ Faye growled.

Panic was taking over and Sam did not have a clue as to what the woman was talking about. An inner calm had visited her as she sat beneath the doorman’s lascivious gaze, allowing her time to think about the complexities of the case, but that calm seemed to have disappeared with Faye’s arrival. She wanted to declare her ignorance but a poignant knife blade of terror held her silent. She suspected that any comment that was not a straight answer would merit another punishing blow. When Sam did find the courage to open her mouth, the first sound that came out was a gasp of pain as she tried to move her aching jaw.

‘Start talking to me,’ Faye hissed sharply. She lifted one stiletto-heeled shoe from the floor and stamped her foot on to the seat of the chair. The heel pushed firmly into the chair between Sam’s legs. The tip of her shoe fell against the front panel of Sam’s short skirt and the pressure of the pointed toe rested heavily over the lips of her sex.

Nervously, Sam glanced up at Faye, aware of how precarious her situation had become. She had just learnt more about this case than she could have hoped and now she was in danger of getting a beating for it. She supposed the price might have been worth paying, but the thing she had learnt did not seem to fit together. Her thoughts were a whirlwind that raged ceaselessly. As she tried to think of a way to placate Faye, she was also trying to work out how this new information fitted in with the other things she had learnt over the past few days.

‘What do you know?’ Faye demanded.

Her hand moved forward and for an instant Sam thought she was going to be struck again. It was only second nature to back away from the domineering woman, but in the confines of the padded chair she quickly realised there was nowhere to back away to. She wanted to say that she knew nothing. Even with the things that Faye had just told her, she still felt absolutely clueless about what was happening. But she doubted Faye would believe such a claim.

Instead of striking Sam, Faye’s fingers reached for her bared breast and stroked one nipple. She was still scowling with the same menacing glint in her eye, but now her expression seemed tinged with something dark and unreadable. Her smile, cruel and threatening before, now seemed more malevolent.

Sam swallowed. Her nipple hardened beneath Faye’s touch and she tried convincing herself that it was purely an automatic reaction. She wanted to believe she wasn’t feeling aroused. Her days of getting pleasure from being submissive were a thing of the past, she told herself. Glaring defiantly up at Faye, she attempted to slap the woman’s hand away.

Faye was fast. With her free hand, she caught Sam’s wrist and pushed it back. The fingers at Sam’s nipple squeezed hard against the nub. There was no mercy or tenderness in her touch. When Faye pushed the wrist back, it was done to hurt. When she squeezed the nipple, the pressure was calculated to inflict as much pain as possible.

Sam gasped. A flare of pain erupted from her wrist and a piercing bolt of pleasure exploded in her breast. At the same time she could feel the toe of Faye’s shoe pressing hard against her cleft. She glanced down and saw that Faye had managed to slide the tip of the stiletto beneath the hem of her skirt. Although she could not see it, she could feel the shoe pressing against the pouting lips of her sex. Faye’s penetrating her seemed more than possible and Sam was chilled by the unspoken threat.