Untied Read online

  Club Imperial 4

  UNTIED

  By

  Katherine Rhodes

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Untied

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright 2016 © Katherine Rhodes

  Cover by JRA Stevens

  Down Write Nuts

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

  Sometimes, we need help to untie all the knots...

  Everett Millhouse is dead.

  Hannah Robbe is missing.

  The Prima Domme of Club Imperial is the Prime Suspect.

  Cece's worst nightmares are coming true. She can't run and she can't hide from the angry wrath of her peers. Cece and Killian find themselves being torn apart as they try to figure out why she is being framed.

  They'll need a little help from their friends--the ones they know and the ones they never knew they had--to untangle the web of clues. Clues that lead them through the once pristine upper class, the dark underworld of BDSM, and make them face a dangerous fact: Pittsburgh has a serial killer.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Epilogue

  The End

  About Katherine Rhodes

  Prologue

  “Where is she?”

  Killian realized his voice was doubled and found Paul running down the hall in the opposite direction to the same destination as his.

  Detective Garabaldi looked both ways and motioned them into the room. Killian shoved his way in, and Paul was hot on his tail.

  Garabaldi slammed the door and locked it. “You both need to calm the fuck down. Immediately. Having half of her harem freaking out around her is not going to help. We had to book her once she got a clean bill from the hospital—”

  “I know, that’s how I found out.” Killian growled. “If I had known what the hell was going on, I would have told them to make something up.”

  “I wish you had,” Paul stated. “She’s pretty fucked in the head.”

  “You saw the scene, Doctor Wainwright.” Killian tried to calm himself down. “What are we talking about here?”

  Paul put a hand to his head. “Sweet Christ, Kay. You don’t even want to know.”

  “I do.” Killian looked at Paul, then at Garabaldi and back at Paul. “I’m in love with her. I need to know what’s going on.”

  “Did you just…did you just admit to her fiancé that you’re in love with Cece?” Garabaldi shook his head in disbelief.

  “It’s okay, Detective,” Paul said. “We knew we were going into this marriage for our own reasons. I didn’t know who you were, Kay. But this might work to our advantage.”

  “What was the scene like? Paul, Simon, please. Tell me what’s really going on here.”

  Detective Garabaldi hit a button and a screen rolled up on the left hand side of the room. It revealed a cold, white room with an industrial table, an uncomfortable looking chair, and Cece. Cece looked like hell warmed over—tears just kept flowing down her face, and every once in a while, she’d grow completely hysterical and slam her hands on the table and start wailing instead of crying.

  Cece looked haggard; her visage was ghostly. Her usually impeccable clothes were askew and coated in blood. Her skirt was ripped, and she still had the hospital bracelet on her arm.

  “What the fuck happened?” Killian took a few strides to the window.

  “We have to arrest her,” Garabaldi said. “We don’t have a choice. Not only is she the prime suspect, but she’s also the only suspect at the moment.”

  “Wainwright?” Killian looked at Paul.

  Paul heaved a sigh. “As far as I know, from her hysterics when I got there, she opened the door to find Everett dead. He was in one piece, but just barely. There was a fight of some sort, and Everett Milhouse isn’t known for his physical prowess. He was overpowered handily, and they tied him up. He was shot in the abdomen and had his veins cut strategically. He bled out, and don’t tell her this, but he suffered badly. She found him, dead. Or allegedly she found him dead.”

  “Why did she find him? What the hell were they doing there?”

  “Milhouse was found with his genitals bound artfully. It didn’t have anything to do with how they found him trussed up.” Garabaldi tapped the folder on the table. “Apparently, she and Everett were having an affair. He was a kinky motherfucker and liked being tied up.”

  “What has that got to do with her sitting in that holding tank?”

  Garabaldi sighed. “They found her cradling him, screaming and rocking him. She was yelling that she didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  “They think she murdered Everett Milhouse?”

  Garabaldi shook his head. “They think she fucked him, tied him up, shot him, bled him, and nearly dismembered him.”

  “What the hell…” Killian was dumbfounded.

  Paul put a hand to his head. “It gets worse.”

  “Worse how?”

  “They know she works at Imperial.” Garabaldi pulled out his phone to check the text message that had just come in. “Oh, shit.”

  “Oh, shit?” Paul asked.

  “They not only know she works at Imperial, but that she’s a dominatrix with a penchant for fancy ropes.” Garabaldi held up the phone so they could see the face. “And on top of them holding Cece for the murder, Hannah Robbe has gone missing.”

  Chapter One

  Cece was cold. She shook and shivered in the cell, trying to stay warm. The scrubs, the only clothes she had at that moment, weren’t warm. They had taken her clothes as evidence. There were no blankets, no cushions.

  Worse, she could only stop crying for a few minutes at a time. That was not helping her shivering. Nor was the fact that she had not eaten since the night before, and water was only doled out in small cups.

  Cece just wanted to go home.

  She started trembling and crying again.

  Frances Robbe, you are under arrest for the murder of Everett Milhouse. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law…

  The door to the holding cell corridor opened and pulled her back out of one nightmare back into another. Angry feet marched down the hall, echoing, and the nightmare she thought couldn’t get worse, did.

  Marjorie stood in front of the bars, staring hard at her. The mother who had never been a mother growled and looked as though she’d been crying too. “You’re disgusting. You’re a goddamn whore. And because of you, my little girl is missing.”

  Cece’s stomach plunged. “What?”

>   “Don’t give me that!” Marjorie snapped. “You know exactly what!”

  “I’ve been in a fucking police holding cell all night, Mother. I have no idea what the fuck is going on.”

  “Hannah’s missing! My beautiful girl is missing! What did you do to her?”

  “Hannah…?”

  Marjorie slammed her hand on the bars of the gate, rattling it. The officer behind her pulled her back off the bars. “She’s missing! No one has seen her for nearly a day! What did you do to her?”

  “Nothing! I did nothing! We had dinner two nights ago, and I haven’t seen her!”

  “Corrupting her into your perverted and disgusting way of life! Stay away from her, you stinking slut! Stay away!” She tried to slam her hand on the gate again.

  “Step back, Mrs. Robbe,” came a strong, authoritarian voice. Cece knew that voice in her sleep. “Step back. I’m assuming you’re here to post bail for your daughter.” Franz Dorn walked into sight at the end of the cell. Cece sat hard on the bench, relief washing over her.

  “My daughter is missing!” Marjorie cried hysterically.

  “And the other is in jail.”

  “I only have one daughter.”

  Franz considered Marjorie for a moment then turned to Garabaldi and shrugged. “Detective, you heard her. This isn’t her daughter.”

  Garabaldi walked forward and took Marjorie’s arm. “Come on, Mrs. Robbe. No daughter, no visits.”

  “She knows where Hannah is!”

  “Well, that’s up to us to find out now, isn’t it? Since she’s not your kid, she’s not your problem.” Garabaldi pulled Marjorie down the corridor, but Franz grabbed her arm at the last moment and turned her to looked at him.

  “If I ever, ever hear you call Frances a slut or a whore again, I will find you, and you will rue the day you drew your first breath.” Franz leveled his Dom gaze at her mother, and then eventually let her arm go.

  Marjorie scurried up the hallway and out of sight without any more prompting.

  The officer pulled out his keys and unlocked the gate. “Miss Robbe, Mister Dorn and company are here to speak with you and help you with bail and bond. Are you willing to go with them?”

  Cece nodded mutely, standing. The officer pulled the gate open, and she walked out of the holding cell. Franz smiled at her weakly and opened his arms. She fell into them sobbing, gasping for air, seeking solace in his presence.

  “Come on, Cee,” he said, wrapping his arm around her, wiping off the tears. He guided her out of the holding cells, down a hallway to where there were carpeting and lights and decorations. The cold, colorless cell had started to wear away her sanity, just that fast. The room he led her to had couches, chairs, colors, and…friends.

  Emmy immediately walked over and took over for Franz. She wrapped Cece in a big, sisterly hug, letting her weep all over again. When Cece felt a little more in control, she pulled back and smiled at Emmy.

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ve seen the inside of that place. I don’t ever want to see it again. Not even to visit.” Nathaniel held out a bag, and Emmy offered it to Cece. “Here. Something more comfortable than scrubs and socks.”

  “I brought breakfast,” Morgan called from her position on one of the couches. “I don’t know how long we’re going to be here, so eat up after you get changed.”

  “Officer Filbert is going to take you to the ladies’ room, right next door,” Emmy said. “I’m going with you. You can change and freshen up.”

  Cece nodded, and the officer held the door open for her. She walked to the bathroom, Emmy just behind her.

  Emmy whispered in her ear, “Don’t say a thing in front of Filbert. Morgan doesn’t want you talking to anyone.”

  “Is Morgan going to be my lawyer?”

  “She’ll be your primary liaison with the law firm, yes.”

  “Who is representing me?”

  “Our attorneys, Pullman, Dickerson, Guzman. Specifically, Evan Dickerson. But Morgan knows you, and we all agreed that it would be better this way.”

  Cece was a little floored. PDG was one of the highest powered firms in Pittsburgh. “Um, Emmy, I appreciate that, but…”

  “Franz will hog-tie you if you say you don’t have the money. He and Victor hired them for you.” By the look on her face, Emmy wanted to ask if she had done it, but she held back and instead started pulling out the clothes in the bag. “Come on. You look tired and famished. Put on the comfy clothes and let’s get back in there.”

  “Hannah is really missing?” Cece managed to squeak out the words.

  “Yes.” Emmy nodded curtly. “No one has seen her for almost a full day. Let’s handle one thing at a time here and get you dressed. Half of Pittsburgh’s finest is out looking for Hannah Robbe, so let’s get this settled and we’ll work on that later.”

  Cece wanted to cry again, but she forced it back. She ducked into the stall with the bundle of clothes and pulled the scrubs off. She put on the bra and realized that her whole back was sore from not wearing one. She changed her underwear too. Not the best of ideas to just swap without a shower, but there was no shower happening right now. She pulled on a comfortable loose pair of yoga pants and tossed the sweatshirt that Emmy had brought over everything.

  She smirked. Of course Emmy would bring a UPitt grad one of her Carnagie-Mellon shirts.

  Cece padded out of the stall to find an arrangement of toiletries that Emmy had put out. Deodorant, toothbrush, toothpaste, baby powder, face wipes… Once again, Cece had to choke back tears—this time, because it was her friend there, not her mother. Not that she would ever expect Marjorie to be even remotely this thoughtful, but her mother turned and walked away from her daughter who was sitting in a jail cell falsely accused of murdering someone.

  Murdering someone.

  Jesus Christ, they thought she killed someone. How could anyone think she could kill someone?

  Emmy snapped her fingers in front of her face. “No.” The word was all Domme. “No. Stop thinking about this. Put it out of your head and make yourself feel normal again. Brush your teeth, for Christ’s sake.”

  Cece let out a little laugh and nodded. It took her just a few minutes to get herself put together with the toiletries. Even the dry shampoo Emmy had brought with her helped her feel more human. They loaded the supplies back into the bag that Emmy had and wound up staring at the scrubs.

  “I don’t want them.” Cece poked at the offending fabric.

  “I’ll see that they get back to the hospital.” Emmy folded the scrubs quickly and shoved them in a plastic bag she’d pulled out of her purse. “Come on. The crew is waiting for you.”

  Cece raised her eyebrows. “The crew?”

  Emmy bit back what she was going to say. “Yup. Come on. Your legal liaison is waiting.”

  Cece nodded and followed her friend back to the room. The officer followed and closed the door behind them.

  Before Cece could get her bearings, a very familiar touch surrounded her, pulled her close, and possessed her mouth in a rabid, desperate kiss. Killian. He smelled wonderful. He tasted better. She wanted nothing more than to be swallowed whole by his arms, his presence, the very essence of his being.

  And then she remembered there were other people in the room and pulled back with a gasp.

  Killian still had his hands on her, holding her arms. “I don’t care. I don’t care anymore. The whole of Pittsburgh can go fuck themselves. I will not let you go.”

  “Kay…”

  “All right, enough with the making out.” Paul stood from the couch.

  Cece was terrified. “Oh, God…”

  Paul waved her off. “He confessed to me last night that he was your other. I’ve told him, eight or nine times that it stays in this room, in this circle of trust. Everything that happens in this room stays in the circle of trust.”

  Morgan spoke up. “There are serious legal ramifications if anything said in this room leaves. Keep that in mind.”

  Franz no
dded. “We are all here for Cece.” He motioned her to the chair he had just vacated. “Sit. Tell us your side of this story.”

  She sat, and Killian parked himself on the arm of the chair, a protective arm at the top. This open display of his affection was going to take time to get used to. Everything was happening so fast. She took stock of the faces around her: Killian, Paul, Emmy, Nathaniel, Franz, Victor, Morgan, and as she was counting them, Detective Garabaldi walked in and shut the door. These were the people who wanted to help her. These were the people who she had the fortune, the blessing to call her real family.

  Cece swallowed and nodded at Morgan to start her audio recording. Taking a breath, Cece began her story. “Monday and Thursday nights have been a standing off-site date for Everett and me. Once Saundra started divorce proceedings, he really started to explore his submissive side and loved it. We tried dating for a while, making it work as a couple, but it just didn’t work. We didn’t have much in common beyond the kink and the bedroom. So we broke up, but we keep on with the standing off-site.

  “John Smith texted me yesterday—”

  “Excuse me, who?” Morgan asked.

  “A client.”

  Morgan chewed her lip. “The guy in the mask.”

  “Yes.”

  “Go on.” She gestured to the recorder.

  “John texted me and asked me to join him for a shibari session at an off-site location.” She let out a deep sigh. All of these people had to hear this. They had to know what a sex-drive kink-lover she was in order to get out of this accusation. “When I host an off-site, it implies there will be intercourse. And I spent a few hours there with him. Kinbaku and sex.” Cece cast her glance around the room and then back to the recorder. “It was intense, and I lost track of time. I had my standing appointment with Everett Millhouse, and I was running very late.”

  Cece had to choke back the bile that rose in her throat. She really didn’t want to relive this—she’d been living it over and over again in the holding cell. Telling someone after the fact was terrifying; it was just going to make it more real.