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“God damn it, Peter. For the last time, just take the fucking deal. It’s a better offer than I ever thought they’d come across with, considering they have his fingerprints from the crime scene.”
Peter wanted to debate every minute detail. “But I think we could get them to offer a year or two less.”
“Peter. Are you listening?”
“Yes.”
“Did you call me for my advice?” Markus asked.
“Yes.”
“Then take it. The deal is generous. We all know he’s guilty. He’s going to be home in less than three years. Goodnight.”
Markus hung up without waiting for a response. “Damn that guy annoys me.”
Lukus answered deadpan. “Really? I’d never guess.”
The girls noticed they’d pulled over. They were getting curious. The men had refused to give them any details of the night’s plan, preferring to keep them guessing. Markus knew the second they figured out their destination. Brianna turned to look at him, her brown eyes dancing with excitement.
“Are we going into Mistress Martha’s Unmentionables?”
“Maybe. Let’s go.” Lukus was halfway out the door, turning to assist both women out in their high heels and short dresses.
Markus let the limo driver know what was next. “I’ll text you when we’re ready to leave. I expect to be at least an hour to ninety minutes.”
“Of course, Mr. Lambert. I’ll wait nearby.”
The ladies rushed to the large window display to ogle the half-dozen mannequins arranged in suggestive positions, all wearing an array of lingerie from naughty nighties to strategically placed, skimpy scraps of material.
Lukus hung back. “You and your fucking phone call. I thought we were gonna have the girls give us blowjobs on the way over. It would’ve served you right if I’d started without you. I’m gonna explode if I don’t come soon.”
“You and me both. I’m not happy either, and coming here isn’t exactly gonna help.” Markus had been sporting a semi-erection since leaving the loft. Glancing at his wife and her best friend, and knowing they were both bare underneath those form-fitting dresses, only made things worse.
“Martha better have a private room for us, or her other customers are going to be in for a show.” Lukus held the shop door open for a young couple leaving. “Come on, ladies. Let’s get inside.”
They weren’t inside the crowded shop thirty seconds before Markus heard the booming voice of Mistress Martha. He may go head-to-head with powerful attorneys all day in court, but there was something about the woman he was about to see for the first time in over three years that reduced him to an unsure novice. He hated the feeling, and the worst part was—Mistress Martha knew it.
“So, my boys have finally come to see me. It’s about damn time.” She rushed across the store, weaving through the racks of clothes on display, pulling Lukus into a tight bear hug. The girls stood by, mouths agape in surprise. Markus had forgotten what a formidable woman she made. She had to be close to six feet tall. Definitely large, but surprisingly toned for a woman who must have been in her upper fifties. She still wore her dirty-blonde hair in an old-fashioned poufy up-do, which suited her. Markus smiled when he saw she was fitted with her trademark short crop attached to her wide, waist-cinching belt.
She always was ready to dish out a lash or two to poor Robert.
“Lukus Mitchell, I should turn you over my knee for ignoring me for years. You should be ashamed of yourself.” The twinkle in her eye reminded Markus she always had liked Lukus best.
“Now, Martha. I think you were the one who deserted me. You quit the club and never come around anymore.” No wonder she loved Lukus best. He’d pulled out of their hug to smile at the older woman who stood almost eye-to-eye with him.
Sadness crept into the Domme’s eyes. “I just can’t go back to The Pit now that Robert is gone. It wouldn’t be the same.”
“I know. I understand. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“It’s okay. I appreciated you coming to the viewing. You’ve always been like a son to me, Lukus. You know that, right?” She reached up to cup his cheek in her large palm, stroking his face lovingly.
Lukus snickered. “Wow, well, no offense, but I’m not really sure most moms would join sex clubs with their sons. We’ve seen each other doing way too much freaky shit for me to be comfortable with you as my second mom.”
“Fair enough. I guess that would be kind of twisted, wouldn’t it?” The sadness in her eyes was gone when she spotted Markus.
“Markus Lambert. The prodigal son returns to the fold. It’s about damn time, young man. It was bad enough you deserted me, but you never should have walked out on your brother like you did.”
Nothing has changed. She’s still scolding me.
