Unconditional Surrender (6 page)

Of course, he thought to himself, it could also have something to do with the need for stealth and concealment.

One click in his ear bud told him Marc had taken a good look at the situation and would give him a count any minute. The next thing he heard was a series of seven clicks. Okay. Seven guards visible and certainly more inside the cave. Too many of them, two few of the Delta team. He knew Marc had reconned the entire area and given him the best possible count, but they were always prepared for what they couldn’t see. He clicked his lip mic three times…one, a pause, then two—the signal that the mission to kill the target and get the hell out of there was under control and a go. Now came the tedious part of the mission—waiting for the target to appear so they could take him out.

They would rotate on watch, two on and two off. He’d do the first one with Marc. Beau as the sniper and Trey as his spotter would need to be well rested. Hopefully this asshole would show himself sometime before morning, Beau could do his thing and they could get the fuck out of there.

He slipped off his pack and set it on the ground, dropping down beside it. He checked that a bullet was chambered in his handgun and made sure his rifle was ready to go, placing both of them in his lap—the handgun held loosely but firmly in his fingers. Leaning against a large boulder, he closed his eyes and let himself drift into a power nap. He’d perfected the art of sleeping for a defined period of time then waking automatically on full alert.

He had just opened his eyes, readying himself for his shift, when Trey reached back and touched his leg. He turned to him, pointed at his eyes then raised three fingers.

Target’s walking outside the cave.
Marc sees three men with him. I’m moving forward again.
 

Slade nodded and shifted his own position, lifting his binoculars to get a closer look at the scene. The head man himself sat on a narrow bench, apparently getting ready to address his small group of key followers.

Beau set up the rifle mount in three seconds, the same amount of time it would take him to collapse it and stow it in his backpack. Next came the rifle, Beau nestling it so quietly on its stand that Slade had to look twice to make sure it was even set up. Trey was at his left ear, using a spotter scope and calling off wind velocity and other measurements to him in a voice barely a whisper. Slade kept the binocs on their target, watching him as he sat down and spread his white robes around him.

Slade knew Beau was in full sniper mode now, slowing his heartbeat so that he could literally shoot between each
thump, thump, thump.
He
clicked twice in his lip mic.

Now!

The sound of the bullet leaving the gun made a soft
ploush
sound. Slade narrowed his eyes and tracked the velocity of the bullet to its target. He watched its vapour trail until it actually hit the target and made its tight narrow hole. Well, that was his special skill, right?

He shook himself out of his mental musings. No time for that now. He took one more look to make sure the target was dead. Yup, flat on his back. With the binocs Slade could even see the black hole in his head and the men running around frantically, their screams of rage echoing against the rocks. The team was already packing its gear and Marc was taking the lead, following the way out he’d memorised coming in without making any noise.

Their progress was slow and they stopped frequently to look for signs they were being followed. But there’d been no
bang!
from the rifle to give them away and it would take the men with Mansoor some time to figure out where the shot had come from. They moved with practiced stealth, just as slowly as they’d arrived, until they were back at the original insertion point.

Slade lifted his satellite mic from his pack, clicked the button and said, “Come and get us, Danny. And don’t stop for cookies and milk.”

He gathered everyone with him by the huge boulder marking the landing zone. In what seemed like eternity, but in reality was probably less than a minute, Slade heard the familiar
whump! whump!
of the rotors and spotted the recognisable shape of the light attack helo. As the pilot lowered it, a rope descended from the open cabin and Slade could see black-clad men with their machine guns at the ready.

Packs strapped to their backs, the four men fast-roped up to the helo and then they were away. Clean. He let out a long, slow breath.

Dropping his gear beside him, he closed his eyes and, for the first time since they’d received the orders for the mission, he allowed himself to think about a petite redhead whose submissive qualities and wet cunt set his cock on fire. Not to mention kick-starting some unusual emotions. He’d have to find out how much downtime they’d have before the next mission and if he could hitch a ride stateside even for a couple of days.

Chapter Five

Kari watched the jury file into the courtroom, their faces solemn, and take their seats in the jury box. She tried to read their expressions but they gave away nothing. The trial had been long and arduous, one that required hours and hours of preparation. She’d had to put her personal life on hold, a move that had regretfully prevented her from any more sessions with Sir at The Edge.

After the first night, he’d been all she could think about and the subsequent messages through Bruno to arrange two more sessions had thrilled her. Then the trial had swallowed up her life and she hadn’t heard from him again. Had she made him angry? It wasn’t as if they’d made any commitment to each other, although she was beginning to daydream about the possibility. She’d finally worked up the courage to call Bruno and ask if he’d been around but apparently he’d just disappeared from sight. What was
that
all about?

The banging of the judge’s gavel brought her back to awareness and she straightened in her seat. Next to her she could feel Jerry Broder, her second chair, vibrating with controlled anticipation. They’d worked hard on this and had presented a solid case. But you couldn’t control the human factor and sometimes it did you in.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” Judge Swimmer’s heavy voice boomed at her. “Have you reached a verdict?”

The foreman, a thin, grey-haired man who’d shown no reaction to either testimony or evidence during the weeks of the trial, rose from his seat.

“We have, Your Honour.” He unfolded the sheet of paper in his hands. “In the manner of The People versus Harold Webster, we The People find the defendant”—he paused for maximum effect—“guilty of first-degree murder.”

Kari let out a breath she hadn’t even been aware she was holding as the courtroom erupted. Jerry pounded her on the back, the murder victim’s family was crying in the row behind her, reporters were clamouring for sound bites. Judge Swimmer pounded his gavel again.

“Silence. All of you. I will have order in here or the bailiff will clear the courtroom. Officers, please remove the prisoner at once.”

Then, finally, it was blessedly quiet.

Kari shook hands with Jerry and began stuffing folders into her briefcase. She was glad to have this finally over with. The trial had dragged on for a week longer than she’d expected but in the end she’d got the verdict she wanted, that she knew was the right one.

“Nice job, Kari. Even if I did lose.”

She looked up and smiled at Rod Ciruli, the defence attorney. Although still in his mid-thirties, he had already built a strong reputation for himself as a shark for his clients. Kari respected him. He didn’t cut corners and, if his client was blatantly guilty, he did his best to work out the most advantageous deal for him. The guys in her office who’d lost to him griped about him all the time. Kari usually just smiled to herself, loath to point out to them that they needed to prepare their cases better. She, herself, had only lost to him once, and she could have smacked herself for her sloppy homework. But that had been ten years ago and she hadn’t lost to him since.

“Thanks.” She laughed. “But your client made it easy for me. Too many things pointed to him.” She zipped her briefcase shut. “But I’ll take the compliment.

He walked over to her, his own briefcase under his arm. “Got time for a drink?” He grinned. “Maybe you can give me some pointers.”

“Thanks, but I really just want to get home, take a hot shower and pour myself a shot of fine Tennessee whisky.”

“Most women I know usually crack open a bottle of wine. But I guess a tough prosecutor has some strong tastes in alcohol.” He walked with her to the doors leading from the courtroom out into the corridor.

“We all have our own tastes, Rod,” she joked.

“So, no big celebration tonight?”

She shook her head. “No, just some time to unwind. But thanks for the offer, anyway.”

She was waiting at the elevator, anxious to get to her office, unload everything and head for home. When the door opened, Sasha was swept out with the crowd and she threw her arms around Kari.

“Congrats, girlfriend! The word is all over the office that you hit a home run.”

“Thanks.” Kari managed to loosen herself from the bear hug. “I’m feeling really good about it.”

Sasha stepped back and studied her friend carefully. “You look beat. Wrung out. I prescribe a session at Malone’s to pep you up.”

Kari shook her head. “Thanks, but not tonight. I’m going home and crawl into a hot bathtub with a shot of bourbon on the rocks.”

“Jeez, Kari. You’re no fun.” The woman pretended to pout then grinned. “I’ll have an extra drink for you. But maybe this weekend we can do something to celebrate.”

“Maybe,” Kari answered in a noncommittal voice.

By the time she’d locked her office, retrieved her car from the parking garage and finally reached her Craftsman-style bungalow, she was sure a hundred people had shaken her hand or pounded her on the back. Invited her out for drinks. Dinner. Whatever. She wasn’t objecting, though. The congratulations were well deserved. But the person she really wanted to celebrate with was…where? She had no idea, except he wasn’t here. And hadn’t been for a few weeks.

At least she had to assume he wasn’t, since he hadn’t got in touch with her. She’d hate to think it was the alternative…that he’d lost interest in her.

She hadn’t been to The Edge since the last night she’d spent with Sir and tonight she had an itch to at least hang out. It was exhibition night, which always drew a crowd. And maybe there’d be someone to draw her interest for just a few hours. She hadn’t played with any of her usual Doms in quite a while.

Kari treated herself to the luxurious bubble bath she’d been dreaming about since the trial verdict was handed down, sipping on a Jack Daniel’s on the rocks while she let the hot water caress her skin. The liquor was just enough to ease the accumulated tension of the past weeks and give her a slight buzz. She chose a red satin number from her closet with a short skirt, a high neck and an open back down to the top of her ass. Red stilettos and dangling earrings completed the outfit. A spray of her favourite perfume and she was ready.

Bruno greeted her at the door with a smile.

“We’ve missed you. Your Doms have been asking about you.”

“But not…?”

He shook his head, the smile disappearing. “Unfortunately, no. I’m so sorry. But don’t give up hope. He will return. I promise.”

“From your lips,” she told him with a wry grin.

“The first exhibition is about to begin,” he told her. “The area is crowded but let me buzz Mike and make sure he finds a seat for you.” He picked up the house phone and began speaking into it.

There were two large rooms where performances took place. They were surrounded by glass with drapes that could be closed when the rooms were not in use. They also had audio so every word and sound could be heard. The lounge circled it for maximum viewing.

Mike, the dungeon master, was waiting for her as she entered the lounge area, and took her arm.

“I have a seat for you at the bar,” he told her. “You’ll be able to see better from there.”

Even though she hadn’t come to play tonight, Kari ordered a club soda with lime and swivelled around on the raised bar stool to see what was happening.

A platform had been placed in the centre of the room and on it a padded bench. Beside the platform was the usual table with a variety of implements and toys, available for whatever the Dom chose to use that night. Sometimes the performance was a demonstration of a particular technique, such as the use of the single tail whip or a flogger or the cat-o’-nine-tails, which required extensive talent to use or a sub could be badly hurt. Sometimes it was just a performance by people for whom exhibitionism added to the height of their arousal. Knowing that a crowd of people could watch them fucking in a variety of ways was a huge turn-on for them. She enjoyed watching and hoped that tonight it would help relieve some of her sexual tension, which none of her toys had been able to do.

A door at the side of the room opened and three people entered, all of whom Kari recognised. A muscular blond man named Jaden, and Trent, leaner with hair the colour of chocolate, walked into the central area holding the hands of a woman equally as naked whose rich, dark red hair cascaded down her back. Zena was a familiar performer, one sought after by those planning an exhibition. Her stage presence and responses were almost unequalled at the club. They stood together and bowed to the audience, taking care to address each side of the room. Their oiled bodies gleamed in the overhead lights.

The men assisted Zena in stepping up to the low platform and then onto the padded bench.

“Kneel,” Jaden ordered in a strong, authoritative voice.

Zena positioned herself in the typical submissive pose, hands behind her back, eyes looking at the floor.

Trent removed two items from the table and held them up for everyone to see. Nipple clamps. Kari could feel her own nipples tingle with anticipation and had to resist the urge to cup her breasts in her palms.

Wordlessly the two men pulled on the woman’s buds with their fingers before each drawing one into his mouth. Her slight moans were intermingled with the sucking sounds, amplified by the room’s speakers. Kari had to swallow her own moans as the men put the clamps in place, lightly biting each nipple then stepping away.