‘You never asked,’ said Ed.
The sorrowful silence that followed seemed to indicate that this was the pattern of their entire relationship.
‘So now you know I was telling the truth,’ I said tentatively. ‘I only enlisted Tom to help me find out what happened to Mia Culpa. And it led – like all roads, with Tom – to Mr Judd Keane.’
‘Thanks a million, Haydon,’ said Keane bitterly. He laid the cane lengthwise across the back of my neck, pressing my hair into my skin. It made me shiver. ‘But what are we going to do about it now?’
Ed’s phone shrilled before he could furnish an answer.
‘Ah,’ he said, grimacing at the screen. ‘Speak of the devil.’
‘Crowley?’ asked Keane.
Ed nodded.
‘Don’t answer,’ said Keane.
My breath juddered out of me in spurts. Tom! Tom was on the case. But where was he? Was there any chance he might find us?
‘Is he looking for you, little one?’ asked Keane, his voice low and caressing as he moved the cane from side to side then tapped my shoulders with it. ‘Are you waiting for him to come and save you?’
‘Please let me go,’ I said. ‘I can’t tell you any more. I can only promise I won’t let any of this get out. I won’t tell the police and I won’t tell Tom. I swear. Just let me go.’
‘I don’t think so,’ snarled Keane, and he put a hand under one arm and wrenched me to my feet. ‘Haydon, help me get her over the sofa. You can hold her down while I get to business.’
‘Judd, do you really think…’ said Ed, but Keane’s look must have convinced him, because he stationed himself on the other side of me and helped to drag my constricted self over to a high-armed sofa at the b
ack of the room.
‘You’ve pushed me too far,’ said Keane, once I had been pushed without ceremony over the sofa arm and lay there, unable to move, with Ed holding my shoulders and Keane’s heavy hand on my hip. ‘You tried to honey-trap me. You need to learn a lesson – Judd Keane won’t be treated that way. Judd Keane makes sure his submissives are just that – submissive. Do you understand me?’
‘Please don’t,’ I cried into the upholstery.
‘You will,’ he said.
He was in the act of pulling up my skirt when Ed’s phone rang again.
‘Oh, God, sorry,’ he said, letting go of me to retrieve the instrument.
‘Leave it!’ bellowed Keane.
‘I can’t – could be urgent. Oh. It’s Maria.’
‘Maria?’
‘Yes. What do you think she wants?’
‘To keep last night’s events out of the paper?’ hazarded Keane. ‘Surely she didn’t report them? She can’t have involved the police…’ I could feel his panic in the sudden lightness of his hand, and the clenching and unclenching of my skirt fabric.
‘Should I answer it?’ asked Ed.
‘Yes, yes. Do it. This bitch’ll wait. She’ll still get hers.’
‘Hello, Maria. What a pleasant surprise. Do you have a free session later…? Oh. Yes, I’m with him. Do you want to speak to him? At his house. Yes, of course…’
He spoke to Keane in a lower tone. ‘She wants to come round and talk to you – says it’s urgent. Is that OK?’
‘Give me the phone.’ Keane let go of me entirely and I tried to wriggle myself into a position from which escape was possible.