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buttons of Franklin’s shirt then
flirted with the edge of his mask. Franklin smiled, glanced over to where I
stood, arms crossed, flexing a little in the flicker of the lighting. He seemed
to think a long time about the second question, then nodded.
    Whatever Jeremiah’s words to Franklin, they worked, because
the two of them linked hands as my very versatile new personal assistant led
Franklin toward the back of the house and the stairs that led to the second
floor. They moved through the crowd with several backward glances in my
direction and what looked to be honest-to-god giggling. I shook my head, amused
at the antics, and reluctantly impressed with Jeremiah’s success.
    I trailed slowly behind the two men, waiting until I made
eye contact with Archer from across the room, before I followed them upstairs.
    The bedroom we’d converted for tonight wasn’t large, but the
four-poster bed was perfect for what I needed. By the time I got to the room, the
lights were dimmed and the sheets pulled back to clearly reveal the restraints
at the corners of the massive bed. Both men were naked and kneeling with their
heads bowed—more orchestration by my helpful assistant, I supposed.
    Taking a riding crop from the umbrella stand next to the
door, I stepped to where the two men waited. I stroked Jeremiah’s black hair
for a moment before wrapping the spiky strands in my fingers and tugging his head
back.
    “Jeremiah? Did you remember to ask if this man is experienced
in bondage and discipline?”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    “What’s his name?”
    Franklin started to speak, but I silenced him with a sharp
snap of the crop against his hip. I heard his slight hiss, knew it was only a
tease of what he’d be hoping for.
    “He asked to be called Midnight, Sir.”
    I barked a short laugh at the clichéd name. “Very well,
Midnight. You may call me Sir or Master. My rules are simple. You do what I
say, you take what I give, and you don’t come without my permission. Do you
have a safe word?”
    “Yes, Sir. Coffee.”
    “Coffee? All right. If you say coffee, all action stops. No
hesitation, no question. Just stops. Otherwise we go at my pace. Jeremiah is mine.
I take care of his needs. For tonight, you will also be mine. Climb up on the
bed face up, spread eagle. Jeremiah, I want you to fix the restraints.”
    “Yes, Sir,” they replied in unison.
    As soon as the first cuff was fastened, I relaxed—Hartfield
wasn’t going anywhere. Jeremiah finished attaching all four cuffs, then stepped
away from the bed with a satisfied smile.
    “Nice work, Jer. You can go ahead and get dressed.” Turning
my focus to the man on the bed, I grabbed the spandex hoodie that completely covered
his head and yanked, none too gently. The mask pulled up with a crackle of
static electricity that left his dark hair standing on end and almond-shaped
eyes wide with surprise. Up close, the sharp cheekbones and shape of the chin
gave him the look of a mixed race Asian. It was nice work. I’d have passed him
on the street without a second glance. I smiled and grabbed his stubby left
pinkie finger, twisting hard. “Hello, Franklin. How’s life?”

Chapter Six
    Jeremiah is mine. The words continued to echo in my
head long after we’d secured the money through wire transfers. Although
Franklin had been clever in his initial distribution of funds, he’d gotten
lazy, and only three banks held the bulk of the money. It took us a total of fifteen
minutes to convince him of the error of his ways and another hour to transfer
the money into one of Archer’s accounts.
    Archer wasn’t totally heartless. Since Margaret’s original
deal with Franklin was for seven million, our finder’s fee was a cool three and
a half million. In the end, we left Margaret her full seven million. We took
our cut from Franklin’s share, leaving left him slightly over two million in
actual cash. Not perhaps the fortune he’d envisioned for himself, but far
greater than what he could