Blood and Satin (Blood and Satin #1)

Blood and Satin

  by

  Amanda McCarter

  Copyright 2013 Amanda McCarter

  Cover image courtesy and copyright of Keith Draws.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, except by an authorized retailer or with written permission of the publisher

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

  Electronic edition, 2013

  Blood and Satin

  Adelaide Hunter was a call girl, an escort. Some might even say a high class prostitute. She didn't mind. She could work her own hours and the pay was fantastic. And not all her clients wanted sex. Some just wanted to talk or to show off a pretty lady and had no idea what to do with her when they got her alone. Which she was fine with.

  But most of them wanted sex, and she was okay with that too.

  Except for tonight.

  Bruce Madison was one of her highest paying clients. And the most difficult.

  There wasn't a night she spent with him where she didn't leave covered in bruises and needing a new cocktail gown. He always gave her more than enough to buy a new one, she'd just rather not. She was saving her money for the day she was too old to be an escort and that day was coming up quick and his dates always set her back a little.

  Not that she didn't mind things a little rough. He made things interesting. If she couldn't deal with it, she wouldn't do it. He never broke any bones and never gave her any serious injuries. He just liked to hit and he liked ropes.

  He picked her up at the offices of Judy Devais' Premium Escorts at seven, same as always. He had tried, on the first date, to pick her up at her apartment, but she refused. Madame Devais' first rule was never let them know where you lived.

  After some of the horror stories Adelaide had heard, she agreed.

  She met him in a short little blue number that showed off her blue green eyes, but it wasn't one she was overly fond of, just in case. The skirt of the dress stopped right below her bottom, where her thigh highs started, flowing into a pair of silver, four inch, platform stilettos. The neckline showed off just the right amount of cleavage. Yeah, she might look like a hooker, but she was an expensive one.

  The driver opened the door and she slid inside. Bruce wrapped both his meaty hands around her dainty one as soon as the door shut.

  “Smooth as silk,” he breathed.

  He always said that.

  Adelaide suppresed an eye roll and smiled at him. She knew he was being sweet, but it was so cliché. “Only the best for you, Bruce.”

  He gave her his million dollar grin. He was charming to be sure, if not a little cheesy. Which is why she didn't quite understand why he needed an escort.

  “Where are we going?” she said as he passed her a glass of wine.

  “Let it be my little surprise,” he said. “I'm sure you'll enjoy it.”

  She took a large gulp of wine. Bruce's surprises could be amusing or entirely boring. There was no in between. She was glad she dressed comfortably. This could be a long night.

  The wine was good, a chardonnay, her favorite, with just the right amount of tang. No doubt it was an expensive vintage. He liked to spoil her, especially when he surprised her. Sometimes, it was a night out or a plane trip somewhere. Once, it was a weekend with a dominatrix. He paid extra, of course, for the extended weekends. It wasn't common, but it did happen.

  “So can I have just the teeniest hint?” she said, pressing herself against him. She made sure to brush her breasts across his arm.

  “I don't want to ruin it,” he said, pulling her closer. “It's magical.”

  “It must be wonderful to get you so excited,” she said, rubbing her hand over his leg.

  He chuckled and kissed her.

  It was a good one, full and deep and sent a shiver down her spine. She had to struggle to keep a hold of her wine glass. If he weren't a client and she were a great deal wealthier, Adelaide could almost see herself dating Bruce.

  If it weren't for his mean streak. Being tied up was fun, and so was the ocassional rough housing, but she could tell he never went as far as he wanted. She thought part of it was because he was scared of going that far and she knew the other part was because Mrs. Devais would ban him the second he did, rich bastard or not.

  The limo pulled to a stop and the driver opened Bruce's door. Bruce slid out and offered Adelaide a hand. She took it graciously and gasped when she stepped out of the car.

  They were in what looked like a run down warehouse district. The parking lots were little more that pulverized concrete and the buildings themselves couldn't have been used in the last decade. Windows were smashed and ceilings buckled and caved. A thin layer of dust covered everything. She could smell decay, rotting wood, old sawdust, and something else she couldn't quite place.

  “Bruce, where are we?” she said, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. An abandoned industrial complex was not what she thought of when someone said surprise.

  “Some place private,” he said. He turned to the driver. “That'll be all for tonight. Come back in the morning.” The man nodded, his mouth twitching, and climbed back in the car.

  Despite her best efforts, Adelaide found herself grabbing Bruce's arm. “Bruce, sweetie,” she said, “let's go to a hotel.” She purred into his ear, her mouth nearly touching his face. “This place is dirty. They've got rooms with sound proof walls. I can get as loud as you want.”

  He peeled her arm off his, squeezing her wrist. He put his now freed hand under her chin. “Oh you'll scream for me,” he breathed, “you'll scream your damn head off. I've gone through a lot of trouble to make tonight special. Don't ruin it.” He gave her arm a hard twist.

  She covered the pain with her most charming smile. “Of course, sweetie,” she whispered. “It's just dirty. I like this dress.”

  He stroked her face with his free hand. “It won't see a speck of dirt, but you might.” He grinned and released the pressure on her arm. She massaged the offended skin quickly, hoping it wouldn't bruise. Mrs. Devais would be furious. If Bruce wasn't careful, Mrs. Devais would ban him. Which was good and bad. He was one of her highest paying clients. She'd never make her savings on the timeline she wanted with him gone.

  That wasn't going to happen. Adelaide would ice it tomorrow and take the next couple of days off. Mrs. Devais would never see it.

  He took her hand in his and led her to a particularly decrepit looking warehouse and pushed open the door. It was musty and smelled old. She coughed and covered her face. He wanted to have sex with her here?

  “I know, it doesn't look like much, but I've made some improvements,” he said. He pulled her along to a maintenance elevator. He winked at her again and brought it down.

  “Now close your eyes,” he said.

  She swallowed and did what he told her. He guided her into the elvator, mindful of her heels. The pit of her stomach dropped as it lifted and she could taste the dust of the warehouse on her tongue. As the lift ascended, the smell faded and something else replaced it. Was that roses? And vanilla? Underneath it all, she could smell an astringent odor, like an expensive cleaner.

  The elevator door clattered open and Bruce walked her out.

  “Okay,” he said, “open your eyes.”

  She did and gasped for the second time that evening, not from shock, but from awe.

  He had taken one of the offices and remodeled it. The walls were fine wood and tapest
ries. The floor was also wood covered with expensive rugs. The room itself was lit with a large chandolier. Bruce moved to light several candles around the room.

  In the very center was a large, absolutely huge four poster bed. The posts were cut from what looked like mahogany. Above the bed was a different story. There were hooks and chains. Bruce did like to tie his girls up and Adelaide didn't mind one bit.

  He returned to her and wrapped an arm around her waist. “So you like it?”

  “Yes,” she said. “It's amazing.”

  “I hoped you'd say that,” he said. “Wanna try it out?”

  “Of course,” she said.

  He smiled and pulled her along to the bed. He yanked her close and locked her into a deep kiss, pushing her onto the mattress. He pulled her hands above her head and she could feel the chains tighten around them. She could feel herself getting wetter just from the sensation and her breath came short and quick.

  With her hands tied above her head, Bruce started work on her dress. She was really glad she decided on a strapless one, otherwise he would have ripped it. It wasn't terribly expensive, but it was the principle of the thing.

  He pulled away from their kiss and began to move down her body, rubbing his hands over her breasts and stomach, kissing her skin as he went. He tore off her bra and panties and tossed them to the side.

  When he finally made it to her feet, he chained them to the end of the bed.

  Adelaide moaned.

  “You like me in control, don't you?” he said.

  She licked her lips and nodded.

  “Good,” he said. “I've got one more thing for you.” He reached out of her line of sight and came back with what looked like a clear rubber bag. He straddled her and started to pull it down over her head.

  “Bruce, what are you doing?” she said. Her arousal had vanished and her heart thudded in her chest.

  “This will heighten your orgasm,” he said, “trust me.”

  Before she could say another word, he had pulled the bag completely over her head.

  She could see, but it was fuzzy. She could smell the rubber and it was hard to breathe, but she was getting air. She couldn't talk, at least not well.

  “Just relax and enjoy,” he said.

  He stripped off his clothes, revealing the blurry outline of his well-carved physique. Adelaide tried to breathe deeply and relax. She would tell Mrs. Devais to charge him extra, double, maybe even triple. No way was she doing this again.

  He entered her and began thrusting. Adelaide tried to enjoy it, but it was still hard to breathe and she was getting light-headed. She barely noticed him on top of her.

  Until he wrapped his hands around her neck and began to squeeze.

  Adelaide thrashed against the chains, her vision bursting in bright sparks in front of her. Her lungs burned from lack of air and it was getting harder and harder to see. She could barely move. Finally, she blacked out.

  ~~~~~

  Adelaide awoke some time later with a splitting headache. Her arms and legs ached and her mouth tasted like something had crawled in it and died.

  She pushed up from the floor...how did she get to the floor?...and looked around.

  Her heart froze in her chest.

  Even in the dim light and with the dark woods she could see the room was covered in blood. She looked down and her naked body was painted with it. The bed was torn to pieces and broken.

  Shakily, she rose to her feet, slipping in the slick mess underneath her.

  She could see a hand, a man's hand, just on the other side of the bed. Carefully, she walked around and saw Bruce's battered body laying in a heap. At least, she was pretty sure it was Bruce's. The body was ripped to shreds and she didn't see his head.

  She vomited right there on the spot. The bile splashed with the blood and she thought she would be sick again. Her hands were coated in red. She had to get it off.

  Holding back another wave of nausea, she looked for a bathroom. Surely the asshole would have put a bathroom in his kinky little sex cave, right?

  And he was an asshole.

  She wasn't really clear on what happened, but she did remember him strangling her. That she couldn't forget.

  She rounded the corner past a small kitchenette and mini fridge and found a tiny bathroom with a sink.

  It would have to do.

  Adelaide rushed to the sink and blasted the hot water, letting it get as hot as she could stand. She sloshed the water over her arms and down her chest. It spilled on the tile at her feet, but she didn't care.

  She tried not to look at the blood swirling down the drain and pooling on the floor. If she did, she would vomit again. It was Bruce's blood, that much was pretty obvious.

  What she wanted to know was how?

  Why wasn't she dead?

  She should call the police.

  Right, she thought, they'd arrest her for murder.

  Because she could totally lift a two hundred pound man off her while handcuffed and gagged and rip his head off.

  She needed to think.

  She needed to get clean.

  She had to get out of there.

  Finally, when the heat was too much to stand, she turned off the water and backed away from the sink, trying not to slip in the bloody mess at her feet. She needed to dry off, but there were no towels. Not even a roll of toilet paper.

  She went to the kitchenette and found a roll of paper towels.

  Bruce wasn't the type not to plan ahead. If he wanted her still breathing, there would be a decent shower or bath and a stack of fluffy towels. Not a maintenance sink and some dirty fucking paper towels.

  She sopped up as much bloody water as she could stand and dropped the soiled paper on the floor. It wasn't like Bruce would care.

  She got herself as dry and clean as she could and started towards the door. She stopped halfway and turned back to the room.

  Clothes, she needed clothes. She couldn't very well run around the city naked. Although she was sure that was not the strangest thing most people had seen. But it would certainly be suspicious.

  And a phone, to call a cab.

  Why was she so calm?

  Adelaide plodded back into the bedroom and forced back the urge to vomit. She needed her dress. Her bra and panties were a lost cause, but she should probably find them and bag them.

  The dress lay by the door where Bruce had thrown it, relatively unsullied. There were a few splatter stains, but the dress was dark and the sun hadn't risen yet.

  Luckily, her shoes were patent leather and she wiped the blood right off using a clean spot on her ruined under garments. She slipped them back on and searched for her purse.

  She left it in the limo.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  The police would definitely come looking for her.

  So why was she running? She hadn't done anything wrong. Except maybe accept money for sex.

  But Bruce had never actually paid her. He paid Mrs. Devais for the escort service. The clients always paid cash for the sex, and she never received any cash.

  But he was still dead and she was the only one in the room.

  So why wasn't she panicking?

  She should call the police. They'd figure it all out.

  She started searching the room for a phone, anything. Her eyes settled back on what was left of Bruce's body.

  She dry-heaved over the mattress.

  She had to get out of there.

  Turning away from the body, she spotted his clothes, neatly folded on top of the dresser. Carefully, she pulled up the shirt and found his pants pockets. A thin cell phone was clipped on the right side, to the belt. She popped it out with ease.

  It was locked.

  She hit the emergency dialer. She didn't kill Bruce Madison. There was no way she could have. That meant someone else had.

  So why was she still alive?

  The phone rang through to an emergency res
ponder. She took once final look at the room and left.

  ~~~~~

  Detective Dirk Gregory yawned and stretched. He hated the early morning calls. Couldn't one of the night detective have taken this one?

  He sipped his coffee and grimaced. Too much sugar. He told the girl just one teaspoon, but this tasted like at least three. Ah well, the caffeine was what he was after.

  He forced down another swallow and pushed under the crime scene tape. His partner, Jennie Lin, a short Asian woman with long hair (and much stronger than she looked, by the way), walked out of the warehouse to meet him. Her normally pouty lips were draw in a thin line.

  “About time,” she said with a snort, one tiny hand on her hip. She looked at the coffee. “You'll probably regret that in a minute. It's a real mess in there.”

  “How bad?” he said.

  “He's in pieces, Dirk,” she said, “and we still can't find his head.”

  Dirk dropped his coffee in a dumpster. “Who called it in?”

  “Dunno,” she said. “Someone placed a call to 911 around two o'clock this morning. When no one answered the responder, they traced the call here. There's signs of another person, dent in the pillow, strands of hair, some other trace evidence. The limo driver showed up just after we did, said he was here to pick up his boss and a lady friend.”

  “So are there two vics or one?” he said.

  “There's no sign of the woman,” said Lin. “Forensics is going over it now. You should get a look at it before they start to pack everything up for the lab.

  She walked back into the warehouse and Dirk followed. She stopped at a freight elevator. While they were waiting, he got a good look at the surroundings.

  “Wait, you said a limo driver?”

  She nodded.

  “What the hell is a guy with a limo driver doing in an abandoned warehouse?”

  She smiled. “Wait til you see what's upstairs.” She opened the elevator door and they stepped in.

  The door banged closed and the elevator clattered to the top floor.

  Dirk's eyes went wide when he saw what was inside. He let out a low whistle.

  “That's fancy,” he said.

  “Check out the chains and rope,” said Lin, pointing to the head and foot of the bed. “Well, what's left of them anyways. Someone or some thing tore them up pretty good.”