“You what?”
“Three years before I met Søren, I started burning myself with my curling iron. I would thread needles though my skin for fun. After I left Søren and became a Dominatrix, I started playing with Kingsley. Off the clock and without getting paid, I played. And I played hard. I had a whole stable of pony-boys, I did medical play with the sexiest little girl sub you’ve ever dreamed of, I adored having my feet worshipped. I did every kind of edge-play you can name and then I even invented a few of my own. I had a harem, I had orgies. I did the sort of shit Søren never even dreamed of. I fantasized about kink before I met him. I still did it after I left him. I did with him, without him, by land and by sea and by air. I did it every chance I got and with everyone I could. I did it for money, for pleasure, for pain and for the pain of pleasure. He does kink because he has to. I do it because I want to. And every time I did it I did it for me. You think Søren turned me into this?”
Nora shot her hand out as fast as a striking cobra and grabbed Marie-Laure by the neck.
“Bitch, please—I’m kinkier than he is.”
She dug her fingers in hard and deep and pushed the woman onto the floor. In the struggle to take Marie-Laure down, the razor blade was knocked away. Didn’t matter. She could kill her with her bare hands. Nora held Marie-Laure down by the throat, squeezing as tight as she could. She’d be unconscious in seconds. Nora couldn’t—wouldn’t—let go...all the while praying that neither of the boys had heard them hitting the carpet.
Marie-Laure’s face turned red and her squirming quieted.
“Kingsley’s file...” Marie-Laure managed to croak the words out.
“What about it?” Nora demanded in a harsh whisper.
“He said don’t underestimate you.”
“Good advice.”
“We took it.”
The world went black.
26
THE KING
Kingsley parked the car far from the house and walked silently through the woods, moving in a different direction than he’d gone before. They had come this way, Marie-Laure and whatever crew she’d brought with her. He saw the troubled earth beneath his feet, the footprints in the marshy soil. She would have two men with her at least. Maybe three. Not much more. She’d need to pack light and take as few risks as possible. The more people involved, the more danger of one f**king something up or turning on her. Less was more in certain operations. Back in his days working for the government, when he was sent on a mission alone, he knew that was when the stakes were the highest. And they couldn’t get any higher than this.
So he went alone.
Upon reaching the edge of the woods he paused. He’d have to cross an acre of open lawn to get to the house. Best to stay back and avoid detection. He waited for a wind to come through. When it did and the trees rustled, he slung his rifle across his back, climbed a tree and perched on a heavy branch. With binoculars he surveyed the house. One window and one window alone was illuminated from within—a bedroom on the second floor. Marie-Laure could have been a world-class sadist herself. She certainly had the mindfuck mastered. She taunted them by giving a hint to her location and yet demanded they not come unless they wanted to die.
No one seemed to be outside. He surveyed every inch of ground and saw no one on patrol. They were inside, all of them. Though God only knew where in that massive house. Nora had been the target, the one taken. Wherever Nora was, that’s where Marie-Laure would be. There would be a guard inside the room most likely, but there was no way he could get a shot off from here. Not unless they all conveniently showed up in one room and decided to stand at the window. He had to go in.
The wind rustled again and Kingsley dropped back to the ground. On the darkest edge of the woods, he took a deep breath, and jogged across the open field to the house. He didn’t sprint—too dangerous. He had to at least go slow enough to see where he stepped. He reached the house and pressed his back to the outer wall under the west side where he could remain hidden even from moonlight. Had this been his mission, Kingsley would have contracted a thief to disable all the alarms, the motion-sensor lights. Seems he and Marie-Laure thought alike.
Now at the house, Kingsley remembered Søren’s instructions.
There’s a window by the servants’ entrance. It will probably be the safest way in. Once through the window you’ll be in a butler’s pantry that no one uses anymore. The entrance to the servants’ hallway is outside the pantry. It runs behind the bedrooms on the second floor. There aren’t entrances into every room but most of them. At the very least you should be able to hear them, hear where they’re hiding her.
Kingsley had asked him if he was sure. A servants’ hallway could be the miracle they needed. If he could even hear into the rooms without them knowing he was there, he’d have the advantage.
I’m certain. The servants never used the halls. But Elizabeth and I did. We hid in those hallways when the servants were about.
Kingsley had left his rifle in the woods. It would be useless at close quarters. He’d strapped several handguns to himself when he’d left the car. He prayed he wouldn’t have to use them. The first shot fired would kill one of them. The second shot fired would kill Nora.
Kingsley used a corner of his shirt and brute force to break the lock on the window. Without hesitating or pausing to look around, Kingsley dropped into the butler’s pantry. The stairway was not much wider than the span of his shoulders and the hall only wide enough for one adult at a time. One adult or two children.