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As John drove the rest of the way to the apartment on 8th Avenue, I had no idea what Drake planned but whatever it was, my body ready for him.
Drake
Karen Mills was sitting on the sofa when we arrived home. I took Kate's coat and hung it up while Kate went in to check on Sophie.
"Hey, Drake. You guys are home early."
"We thought we'd be later than this, but Ethan was tired and the kids were getting antsy. Then, we were going to go for a walk, but the rain started, so..."
"Too bad," she said. "But I'm glad you were able to go out and celebrate your anniversary. Let me know when you want to go out again. I'm pretty flexible so even last minute is fine."
"Thanks, Karen," I said, happy we had been able to find such a trustworthy sitter for Sophie. It really made the difference for Kate. "We appreciate your flexibility."
"No problem," she said and stood up, stretching. "I told you that you could stay out late if you wanted. I have tomorrow off, so I could sleep in."
"Maybe next time," I said and helped her with her coat. Kate popped in just before Karen left and thanked her as well.
"How did she do?" Kate asked. "She didn't sleep very long this afternoon."
"She went down no problem. She had a bath and we read some stories. I gave her a bottle and down she went."
"She was tired," Kate said, nodding. "Thanks again."
Then Karen left and Kate and I were alone. I removed my jacket, hanging it on the back of a chair in the entry, and loosened my tie.
"Care for a shot of Anisovaya, Katherine?" I asked, barely able to keep from smiling.
"Yes, Sir," Kate said, this gleam in her eyes.
I knew what that gleam meant. It meant she was more than excited to do a scene. We'd only recently begun including a bit of B&D into our sex life again after a long drought due to the accident and Kate's recovery. Both of us were eager to find our way back to some sense of a new normalcy.
I poured us both a shot and handed her one. She held it up to my shot glass and together, we threw back the vodka. I enjoyed the slight taste of anise and the burn as the alcohol went down my throat, warming my blood once it hit my stomach. I merely had to glance at Kate to know she felt the same excitement that the taste of the vodka elicited. We were Pavlov's dogs, the two of us.
Of course, it was at that precise moment that my cell rang, interrupting my plans for the rest of the night.
I reached into my pocket with reluctance. Who could be calling this late at night on a Friday?
I checked the call display and saw the name. Lara...
Why would she be calling me during my anniversary celebration? It could only mean one thing. Something had come up in discovery at Lisa's trial that she felt she had to tell me about.
"I have to get this," I said to Kate, whose expression changed the moment she saw the call display and Lara's name.
"The trial?"
I nodded. "I expect so."
I slid my finger across the screen and put the call on speakerphone so Kate could hear.
"Hey, Lara. What's up that's got you calling me at almost ten o'clock on a Friday night -- the night of my wedding anniversary?"
"I'm so sorry, Drake, but I had to call and at least let you know that one of my contacts in the DA's office told me, in total confidence, there is a video of someone the defense claims is you abusing Lisa at Richardson's mansion. I haven't seen it, but he has and he says it's pretty damning. I guess Lisa's defense thinks it may lead to a reduced sentence because it seems to support the defense's allegation that you and Richardson systematically abused Lisa over the course of several years and that Jones was acting in self-defense when he killed Richardson."
"What?" I said, rubbing my forehead. "I never laid a hand on her in any abusive way. I never did more than give her a thorough fucking. They claimed they were into voyeurism and a bit of bondage. Not S&M or I would never have become involved and you know it."
"Of course, I know it. She's claiming that Jones killed Richardson when he found Derek attacking her. So, he killed Richardson to stop him from hurting her."
"That's not at all plausible, if they knew Richardson. He was a voyeur, not a sadist."
