Chapter Sixteen

Two weeks later, Jett wondered how she’d ever lived anywhere else. Being in the mountains, with all the windows open and the sweet smell of mountain air filling the cabin made her smile. It had taken less time than she thought for her to get there, though. Bart had hired a paralegal named Mindy Spanner, and Jett worked with her Monday-Thursday, getting her up to speed on her caseload and what needed to be done in terms of depositions and filings.

For the past three weeks, from Friday through Sunday, Jett and Griffin packed up her condo and put things in storage. He didn’t really have room in the cabin for all her stuff, and she wasn’t ready to figure out what to get rid of, or keep, so the storage unit had been the best plan. She’d rented the condo to Kay McMillian, a paralegal at a nearby firm who had always expressed a desire to live there.

This was her first true week at her new home. Tomorrow would be the first day she didn’t have to get up, get dressed and go into the office. It would also, she hoped, get them back to having time to be creative in their sex life, for her to serve him and give pleasure to them both. She was ready to get rid of the ‘vanilla sex’, that had become her routine. She needed a whipping, and she needed it bad.

Jett crossed to the sliding glass door, which she’d left open along with the windows. Griffin had warned her to make sure the screen door was closed, so no wild critters got inside the house.

Right now, he was at Bear Creek, talking with Burt about something or other, she wasn’t exactly sure. The four Tres Lobos West cabins were empty, and would be until Thursday. Griffin told her that wasn’t unusual. The weekends were their busy time.

After scanning the area, Jett’s gaze landed on the platform with the poles. A soft murmur of pleasure left her mouth as she thought about him binding her there, and the delicious things that would take place there. She wanted to ask him about a collar, because she wanted to wear one.

In her mind she would wear only that as she cleaned, figured out where she could put her favorite chair, and redid the kitchen. The kitchen was her main priority. Griffin had put cutlery on the far side of the room, glasses in an underneath counter, and pots and pans in the pantry, while canned goods and other staples were stored under the sink. Her grandmother had once said to her, “Don’t send a rooster to do a hen’s job.”

To fulfill her fantasy she took off her clothes and went to the TV. She set the channel to an oldies radio station then went back to the kitchen. As she emptied cabinets and decided how to change things around – like food in the pantry – she thought about the only thing that hadn’t been settled since she’d moved here.

They hadn’t caught Hope Hockworth. She’d murdered Montgomery and Portland, and she had obviously gotten away with the money. Tricky had shown them a picture of her. She was a medium sized woman, about forty years old, with dark hair sprinkled with gray. If Jett passed her on the street she wouldn’t look twice at her.

But now that Hope was getting away with murder, Jett wanted her found. Her deeds had put Griffin under suspicion, and Jett didn’t want the witch getting away with that. As she moved dishes and danced to the music, she wondered about the note, about what Portland was doing at Tres Lobos before he was killed.

True he wanted the land, but why would finding out what was going on here help him get the land? To her it just didn’t make sense. She finished stocking the pantry, moved the pots and pans to the cabinet near the stove, and moved the glasses and coffee cups near the sink.

As she was redoing the silverware drawer she thought about the note that Portland had left at his house. JM guilty with dollar signs. That meant Portland was blackmailing JM. To blackmail someone you had to have evidence of their guilt. She knew Tyler and his crew, which now included Tricky as the acting sheriff, had searched Portland’s land inch by inch, and they’d found nothing.

“If I had evidence of someone doing something wrong, and I wanted to use it against them where would I hide it?” She shut the cabinet door with the glasses, then turned and looked around. She’d been so caught up in what she was doing, and thinking, that she hadn’t realized what time it was. She hadn’t stopped for lunch, or even taken a break.

The kitchen was done, cleaner than it had been, and organized the way it should be. Jett skipped across the floor and went to the dining room table. Her phone was not in sight. She went to the bedroom and found it on the nightstand on her side of the bed. One check of the screen showed Griffin had called three times. She called him back and he answered on the first ring.

“I was about to send out the search party,” he said. “What have you been doing?”

“Your kitchen,” she said with a laugh.

“You mean our kitchen.”

Jett fell back on the bed with a giggle. “You’re so right. What have you been doing?”

“Paperwork, paying bills, all the fun stuff. Celeste is making curry for dinner. You like spicy food, right?”

“Love it.” She ran her hand over the quilt under her. “What time should I be there?”

“Can you wait until about six? I have things to take care of first, and it will take me a while.”

“I can.” She rolled over and propped herself up on her elbows. “While I was working on the kitchen, I had an idea. Will Tricky be eating with us?”

“He usually does since his wife is the chef,” Griffin said with a snort. “After dinner, the two of us have things to take care of.”

“Have we taken care of those things before?”

“Not this way,” he said. “Get cleaned up and come over. I’m looking forward to your idea, although I would look forward to it more if it didn’t involve Tricky. Something tells me you’re going to get us into trouble.”

Jett giggled and made kissy noises. “See you soon.”

She disconnected when he said, “Heaven help us.” She had a feeling she would be doing some praying tonight, praying for mercy, and release.

***

Jett tossed the newspaper on the table in the Tres Lobos lounge and smiled at the three people sitting with her.

“This is never going to work,” Tricky said. “That woman is long gone enjoying her riches.”

She looked over to where Griffin nursed his iced tea.

“You think this is a dumb idea?” she asked. When he didn’t answer she said, “You certainly didn’t say so when I told you about it.”

Once more she picked up the paper. This time she started to read: “Acting sheriff Richard Coffee said they believe their number one suspect, Hope Hockworth, was being blackmailed by victim Terry Portland. The sheriff said they also believe that Jake Montgomery and Hockworth were in league with each other and they killed Portland together, but Hockworth killed Montgomery to keep the money for herself.”

“There is evidence of the blackmail near Portland’s land,” Coffee said. “We’ve searched and yet to find it, but we will. I can guarantee it.”

Jett put down the paper. “I think she’s here, and when she sees this it will force her to come out of hiding and search for the fabricated evidence. When she does, we catch her.”

“Thank you Madam Detective,” Tricky said. “I think she’s sipping margaritas in Mexico.”

“We’ll see,” Jett said.

“Okay.” Griffin stood up. “It’s time to go.”

They all said good night, and Jett got into the truck with Griffin. “Do you really think my idea was bad? I mean, Tricky agreed to it. He gave an interview to the newspaper to try and draw her out.”

“I think your idea was perfect,” he said. “Whether or not she comes looking for evidence remains to be seen. In the meantime, I have something for you tonight. Since the camp is empty I want to give it to you. This is a private thing.”

Was this the collar she’d been waiting for? She certainly hoped so. They got to Tres Lobos West and got out of the truck at the parking area near the cabins. When he opened the door she was happy to see he had a length of rope in his hand.

At the back of the truck he held up the rope. “What does this mean?”

“Get naked?”

“Good answer.”

Jett shed her clothes as quickly as she could. When she was naked she put her boots back on. He wound the rope around her wrists figure eight style, then took the excess and led her away. She was disappointed there were no guests, because she would like to see how they reacted to her being paraded around the compound. She expected him to move toward the platform with the poles, but instead he led her toward their cabin. It was a little disappointing because she knew that just meant sex—not that just sex wasn’t good with Griffin. But she was looking forward to hot sex and a collar. She wanted to mention it to him, but she was afraid if she did he would think she was overstepping her bounds, and punish her in a way she didn’t want to be punished.

They traveled in silence, and when they finally reached their cabin he stopped at the front door. “Get your ass in there and clean up the kitchen.”

Shock coursed through her. She stared at him and stuttered until she finally said, “Do what?”

“You heard me. Do it now.”

“That’s the private thing you wanted to talk to me about?” She tried to pull her hands away from him, but he held tight to the rope. “Cleaning the kitchen?”

“Are you questioning me?”

“No, but.” Jett clamped her mouth shut. Remember who’s in charge, she whispered to herself. “The kitchen is spotless. I redid the whole thing today and cleaned it from floor to ceiling.”

“Then do it again, the cleaning I mean.” He leaned down until his face was right in front of hers. “I’d hate to think you were questioning me.”

“No, Mr. Flack,” she said.

He took the end of the rope and unwrapped it. Tears stung her eyes as she went into the kitchen. It was, as she’d said, spotless. But she would clean the cabinets, and then mop the floors. Maybe afterward he would spank her, and fuck her. She certainly hoped so.

She was on her second counter when a noise from the dining room caught her attention. “Mr. Flack?” she put down her rag, rinsed and dried her hands, and then went into the living room. “Mr. Flack?”

There was a small pouch on the table. She picked it up, undid the string and turned it upside down. A long string of pearls fell out and she caught them in her hand. They were beautiful. She wasn’t one who could tell whether or not jewelry was fake or not, but they were certainly something she’d wear.

The front door opened and slammed shut. Jett picked up the pearls, put them back in their pouch and headed toward the front door, calling Griffin’s name. When he didn’t answer she stepped out onto the porch.

That’s when she was confronted with a cowboy mounted on a horse. He had a gun in his hand and it was pointed right at her.

“Griffin?” she asked.

“And who are you?” he asked.

“Jett?”

“Are you sure about that, or questioning your own name?” He wiggled the gun at her. “Why are you naked? Did I interrupt you and your lover?”

“You’re my lover,” she said. She knew where this was going, and she was pretty excited about it.

“I think I would remember that, Jeeetttt.” He drew her name out as if he were questioning her sanity. ‘What’s in the pouch?” He waved the gun in her direction once more.

Jett moved her hand behind her back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Good heavens that sounded lame. “Perhaps you’re seeing things, Mr. Flack.”

He threw his leg over the horse and was off before Jett knew what was happening. He grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder. To her shock he climbed onto the horse as if she wasn’t weighing him down.

“Put me down!” she yelled as she slapped at his back. The horse took off, and from her vantage point she could tell they were heading back toward the main part of the compound—where the platform with the poles was located.

Once they were at the place she’d wanted to go when they’d arrived, he dismounted as quickly as he’d mounted. He carried her up the stairs.

“Stop, stop!” she said, as convincingly as she could. He bound her between the poles. She still had the pouch in her hands. He ripped it from her grip and opened it.

“Well, well, look at this.” He dumped the pearls into his hands. “How many more of these do you own?”

“None.” Jett shivered, not from the cold but from excitement.

“You’re a liar, Jeeettt.” He placed his lips right in front of hers. She expected a kiss, but she didn’t get one. “I want the rest of your jewelry. Where is it?”

His face was still right next to hers, and she glared into his eyes. “Go to the devil.”

Jett shivered at his chuckle. He dropped the pearls over her head and the strand landed between her breasts. He walked down the stairs and then reached into the saddlebag. Her eyes widened as he drew out the whip. She imagined it was the one he’d used during their unusual phone sex—which contained no sex.

The whip cracked a few times, and Jett jumped between her bonds. Her chest heaved as he climbed the stairs.

“Last chance,” he said.

“Did you not understand devil?” she asked. “I’ll make it plainer. Go to hell.”

Griffin grasped the whip between his hands and held it up in front of her face. “After a few snaps, you’ll tell me where to find the rest of the jewelry.”

He ducked under her arm. Jett tried to remember how large the platform was. She was sure he would back up and… the whip cracked and landed at her feet. Seconds later it did the same to her other side.

Jett tensed, and when the tail landed on her ass she cried out. She tried to relax, because the lashes would land easier that way. Another one landed, and another, and another. Her juices flowed as he hit her yet again. He was definitely an expert at building excitement.

Tears stung her eyes as another one landed, and then suddenly he was in front of her, his gaze boring into hers. He grabbed the tail end of the whip in his hands and ran it over her lips. “Perhaps I’ll take a different treasure, since you’re so attached to your jewels.”

He dropped the whip at her feet, and she shivered again as he undid his jeans. “I know I’ll find this entertaining.”

Once more he ducked under her arm. He grasped her hips, pulled her back, and slammed inside her.

“Oh fuck, hurts, hurts,” she said. It was painful, but not as bad as she was making it seem. Jett relaxed into the thrusts as Griffin pounded into her. The sounds of their fucking filled the air, and once again she wished there was a crowd to watch them.

When Griffin came, she tried as hard as she could to join him, but without any stimulation on her clit, there was no way. He was in front of her in seconds. After he grabbed a hunk of her hair he pulled it back. “Willing to give them to me now?”

“Screw you,” she said.

“Fine.” He let go of her hair, and then walked back down the stairs. When he returned he had a piece of leather in his hands. “Until you give them over, you’re mine.” He wrapped the collar around her neck, and then clicked a lock in place. “Mine to do with as I please, for as long as I want. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Flack,” she whispered.

Griffin reached between her legs, found her clit and pinched. He tightened his grip, then rocked her clit from side to side, up and down. Jett came, her body swaying between the poles. Her head lolled back, and when it finally ended she whispered, “I think I love you.”

She immediately wished she could take the words back, that was until he leaned in and said, “I feel the same way. That collar proves it.”

He cradled her head between his hands, and then he kissed her, gently sliding his tongue into her mouth. When he pulled back, and then kissed her again, Jett knew she was home, and with a man she would love forever.

***

Two months. She’d lived here for two months, and Jett was happier than she’d ever been in her life. About twice a week she received a spanking that made her toes curl in pleasure.

Griffin was inventive in his scenarios. He’d taken her fantasy ideas of being forced into sex with different people, and so far he’d done the cowboy thing when he’d given her a collar, and he’d been a highwayman. That had been entertaining. When she’d found the Victorian style dress on the bed that afternoon she’d jumped up and down in joy. The scene had been particularly harsh, but the aftercare had been fantastic.

That was something that Griffin excelled at. It wasn’t just the sex that was good, but the aftercare, also. He held her and stroked her and had a butter style body cream that kept her bottom soft after he’d whipped it. The application of the cream didn’t just happen after a scene, but the next morning, too.

“We want to make sure your bottom remains supple,” he’d said after the highwayman scene.

Now, as they lay in bed and waited for the sun to rise, she cuddled against his chest and she again wondered how she’d gotten so lucky. Stan had moved to England, and she hadn’t made an effort to see him before he left, even though he’d called Griffin and asked how things were going.

“I need you to go to Las Vegas today.” He stroked her hair. “You and Celeste, I should say.”

Celeste. Her new friend was also a wonderful addition to her life.

“She was going to try and teach me how to make her tres leches cake.” Jett hadn’t been thrilled about learning how to bake her scrumptious dessert, but now she was a little disappointed. Griffin’s birthday was fast approaching, and she wanted to be able to bake the cake for him.

“She’s got quite an order to put together at the warehouse store, and she needs the help,” Griffin said. “We’re going to be busy this weekend, and we want to make sure we don’t run out of anything. She gets nervous about that sort of thing sometimes.”

“I can’t imagine how she runs that kitchen,” Jett said. “But I’m glad she does. I’m not much of a cook.”

“Which is why she’s teaching you,” he said. “Talk to her about it in the car today. For my birthday I want a meal that you’ve cooked, by yourself.”

Jett sat straight up. “What?”

“I don’t repeat myself.” He winked at her. “Now, suck me off so you can get ready to go.” He threw back the covers and his dick sprang up.

Jett licked her lips and bent to her task. She still had a few weeks to get ready for the cooking, and right now the only thing she wanted to eat was his cock.

***

“I can’t believe he’s making me cook!” Jett was in the passenger seat as Celeste piloted the car back toward Bear Creek. She wasn’t at all surprised that her friend nixed the idea of eating in Las Vegas so she could get home and supervise the dinner meal. When Jett had left the house that morning, she’d given Griffin a big kiss, and told him she’d see him around five. But it was just after three, and she planned to use the time to take a long, hot bubble bath, and read over the recipe Celeste had given her for the enchilada casserole Griffin wanted her to make for his birthday.

“You know, my idea of cooking is drive-thru,” Jett said.

“We’re going to change that,” Celeste said as she pulled into the driveway for Tres Lobos West. It was the middle of the week and the BDSM part of the resort was empty. Jett had left her car just past the gate so she could go home and change clothes before meeting Griffin at the lodge for dinner.

“Don’t panic about the meal,” Celeste said as Jett opened the passenger door to get out. Jett went to the back of the cab, opened the door and took out several sacks of things she’d bought. “You’re going to do fantastic, I promise.”

“From your mouth to God’s ear,” Jett said. “Thanks.”

She walked through the gate Celeste had opened with her beeper, then waved at her friend as Jett got into her car. As she drove to their cabin she went over the recipe in her mind. Cornbread, made from scratch not a mix, homemade enchilada sauce, and a meat mixture that scared her half to death.

She parked and got out. After she’d gathered her packages she went inside. Although they lived in the middle of nowhere, Griffin had always insisted they locked the door. When it popped open on its own she dropped her sacks and turned to run. A voice behind her made her stop in her tracks.

“Get in here you little bitch.”

Jett turned toward the house. A woman sat on the couch, a gun in her hand. She knew it was Hope Hockworth from the photos she’d seen.

“I heard you drive up,” the woman said. “I thought I’d have a few more minutes to search for the thumb drive. Since I don’t, you’re going to just tell me where it is. Get in here and shut the door after you.”

Jett did as she asked. Her cross body bag lay against her, and her phone was inside. But there was no way she could get to it.

“Where is it?” Hockworth asked.

Denial would only piss the woman off, so Jett said, “Griffin has it in his office. He’s keeping it for Tricky.”

“Son of a bitch,” Hockworth said. “I have searched this property for weeks. You two really should pay more attention to your surroundings instead of doing your disgusting, immoral sex acts.”

“You would know about being immoral, since you’re a murderer. Is it twice over? Did you kill them both?”

The woman laughed. “Stupid ass Jake killed him before he got the thumb drive. We tried searching there, and it makes sense that Portland hid it here, somewhere we never would have thought to look.”

So he wasn’t trying to figure out what was going on here, Jett thought. Portland was hiding evidence of a crime.

“And you killed Montgomery.”

“He was trying to rip me off,” Hockworth said. “I knew he wanted to plant evidence so I would be arrested, and he would get away with the money. That’s how we got caught. He transferred the money to a different bank, then put the info on a thumb drive. Then – then the asshole began asking Portland money questions. Portland figured something was up, and he broke into Jake’s house, and stole the thumb drive.”

“So you’re all a bunch of criminals.”

“Don’t push me,” Hockworth said. “Call that horrible man you allow to do disgusting things to you and tell him to bring it here. Tell him you want it now. Tell him you’ve figured out the password. Do it now, and don’t tell him I’m here, or I’ll just shoot you since I now know where it is.”

Jett took out her phone. Her hands shook as an idea formed in her mind. She wouldn’t just sit here and let this woman take over. She would stop her. She thumbed it open and quickly texted 911 and sent it to Griffin and Tricky. She deleted the text, in case Hockworth asked for her phone, then she called Griffin.

“You’re home early,” he said happily when he answered.

“I had a breakthrough while we were in Las Vegas. Can you bring me the thumb drive?”

“The what?” he asked, his confusion clear.

“I think I figured out the password, and I don’t want to wait. Just bring it to me, please.”

“Darling, as your grandmother would say, ‘You’re dialing the phone, but not making a connection.’ What the hell are you talking about?”

“What’s up with the 911?” Jett heard Tricky say in the background.

“See you soon. I’ll be in the kitchen cooking dinner, like you asked me to do. Then we can howl at the moon.” She disconnected the phone. “He’s on his way.”

“You did very well,” Hockworth said. “Now, sit in that chair and behave. This is loaded.” She waved the gun in Jett’s direction. “While we have the time, why do you allow him to hurt you? That’s really gross.”

“As long as we’re soul searching, why did you kill a man?”

“Money,” Hockworth said with a laugh. “But I never let him use a whip on me, or fuck me outdoors where anyone could see.”

They stared at each other for a few moments before Jett said, “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Of the two of us, I’m the only one who has never ended a person’s life.” She knew she shouldn’t be baiting the woman, who had proven she could kill someone. But Jett wanted to kosh her over the head right now. But she wouldn’t. She needed to keep her talking until Griffin and Tricky arrived.

“He deserved it, trying to steal from me.”

“But it’s okay for you to steal from someone else,” Jett said.

“I’ve had it with you,” Hockworth said. “I don’t need you anymore.”

She lifted the gun in Jett’s direction at the same time the sliding glass door shattered. Jett didn’t think about it twice. She dove to the ground at the same time the gun went off, then rolled over to where Hockworth now stood She knocked the woman down at the same time Tricky yelled for Hockworth to drop the gun.

Griffin came in through the front door. Jett watched as he grabbed Hockworth’s gun from the floor.

Hockworth screamed at Tricky, who was locking her wrists in cuffs. She screamed the word bitch at Jett, who melted into Griffin’s arms.

“That was not fun,” she said as she snuggled into him.

“You did good,” Griffin said. “You’re one smart cookie.”

“As long as I don’t have to bake the cookies, we’ll be okay.”

He tightened his grip on her, and Jett sighed. She felt safe and warm in his arms.

“If anything had happened to you,” he said. He didn’t complete his sentence, but he didn’t have to; she could feel the love between them right now.

“It took a while, but my idea worked,” she said, her voice shaking a bit. “It took a while, but it worked.” She had things to tell him, like the fact Hockworth had been watching them, and searching the house while they weren’t around. But that could come later, much later as far as she was concerned.

***

The casserole pan seemed to fall out of her hands and thump onto the table. Jett righted it onto the hot pads, took off the oven mitts on her hands, and sat down across from Griffin. She did a mental inventory of the food on the table. Salad, check. Corn, check. Tortillas, check. Guacamole, check. Sour cream, check. Beer for Griffin and wine for her, check. And, of course, the casserole, check.

“Shall I serve it?” she asked.

“Let me,” he said. “The way your hands are shaking my portion might end up on the floor.” He delivered food to both plates before he added corn and salad to his. She thought he would cover the casserole with guacamole and sour cream, but instead he took a bite first.

Jett watched as he chewed. She worried the flavors weren’t right, that it tasted awful. She knew it couldn’t hold a candle to Celeste’s, but she hoped it was tasty. She waited. And waited. And waited.

Finally he said, “Well done.”

Her body heated at his words, and she giggled. “It’s okay?”

“It’s really good.” He took another bite. “Very good.”

“Thank God,” she said.

“You worry too much.” Now he was putting on the guac and cream.

He looked around the table and she gasped.

“I forgot the salsa.” Jett jumped up and went to the fridge.

When she came back he said, “That’s gonna cost ya.”

“I hope so,” she said with a laugh. She took a bite and agreed that it was pretty good. Between bites she said, “Celeste said she had so much fun teaching me to cook that she wants to host a cooking class at Bear Creek. What do you think?”

“I think it would attract a lot of attention, and it would be good for Bear Creek.” He finished off his plate and refilled it. The fact he went back for seconds made her smile.

“I’ll have to pass it by Russell,” he said between bites.

“Your brother?” she asked.

“He loves to cook, and is more than an amateur cook.” He waved his fork in her direction. “How did the cake come out?”

“Good, I think.” She pushed aside her plate. “Would you like me to go get it?”

“No, let’s wait.” He reached under his chair and pulled out a wooden spatula. “But we have to pass some time until then. Drop your drawers and bend over the table. My present to myself is giving you my birthday spanking.”

Jett moaned in pleasure. “As you wish, Mr. Flack.” She got up and did as he asked. At the first swat she closed her eyes in pleasure. She waited for a second. When it didn’t come she looked over her shoulder to where he stood.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too,” she said. Jett faced front, and the second swat landed.

She needed to write Stan a letter thanking him for being an ass and introducing her to Griffin. It was the best thing that had ever happened in her life.

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