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It made sense. That was why the men had stationed themselves as therapists to begin with. Kimberly took heart as the plan began to take shape in her mind.
“With Michiko going in as a submissive,” Sam told her, “she can ask questions of the other subs you can’t.”
Dean reached for her knee.
“If we swing it right,” he told her, “Michiko gets in to see Bradshaw in order to try and overcome her hang-ups with sex.”
“And there’s our in,” Michiko finished. “I’ll go in seeking help for my sexual hang-ups.”
“We can’t make one mistake,” Sam said to the room at large. “This bitch is bound to be on her guard big-time, and just because two of the five women saw her, it doesn’t mean she was the only therapist they had in on this.”
Kimberly absorbed the full depth of their plan and felt the green knot of tension in her chest release its death grip. She hadn’t wanted to be jealous of the beautiful woman, but come on, she’d challenge anyone of any gender to feel differently in the same spot. The way they’d planned this could work, though. It could work on every level. Kimberly now looked at Michiko as her own personal Wonder Woman.
Everything about the case had been one traumatic experience after another. From the terror-filled chase through the woods when she’d thought she was going to be raped to the night she’d been beaten and almost burned alive. She would do it all again because they’d saved not only Shawna but another woman as well. And she would continue to help even now, no matter that she was terrified, and Shawna’s weren’t the only nightmares to plague her nights.
Kimberly had found her friend naked and bleeding, chained to a filthy mattress on an even filthier floor along with an unconscious girl in a burning cabin. They’d been unimaginably tortured, and three more women were still out there. Kimberly might be frightened, but her fear was like a single snowflake in a blizzard compared to what they must be suffering.
She would see this through.
Michiko was here now, though, and Kimberly suddenly went from wanting to sneak bleach into her shampoo to wanting to hug her and cry. She wasn’t alone in this search anymore. Kimberly hadn’t been alone before, because Sam and Dean had never left her side. Until now, Kimberly hadn’t realized she’d always been the only sub in a room full of Doms. No, Kimberly didn’t see Michiko as her adversary any longer—she started to see her as a savior instead.
Only one little wrinkle they had to smooth out. No way was Kimberly stepping away from the case.
She was in this. Was it scary? Hell yes. Was she stupid for even thinking of staying involved? Oh, definitely. Was there any way in hell her nightmares would let rest until those women were brought home? No. No there absolutely was not.
She was petrified but determined about what came next, and that hadn’t changed much. Only now, she had a wing man. A Laverne to her Shirley. A Thelma to her Louise. A Goose to her Maverick. Kimberly came to a mental halt and rethought that last one, flipped it. She was definitely more Goose than Maverick. Then she remembered that Goose died and decided to ditch theTop Gunanalogy altogether.
Either way, it wasn’t a battle she had to wage today. They planned to transition her exit from the club over time to avoid suspicion. Well, she’d just have to make sure they found the other girls before that happened.
Chapter Two
Sam hadn’t been preparedfor Michiko when he and Dean walked Kimberly into The Lion’s Den that night. The plan had been for her to come early, cause a stir, and get attention. Then either he or Dean would top her for a scene and thus take their first next step.
Michiko had understood the assignment. She was dressed like Catwoman. Spiked heels, clawed hands, and a cutaway mask complete with kitty ears. Blood red lips pouted through the slashed leather over her face, and her ebony eyes shone like a lake at midnight in the overhead lights. She even had a tail hanging off her sexy little ass, which she twirled as she strolled the bar, rolling her eyes at the men who attempted to reach for her. She waltzed by them without otherwise acknowledging their presence. The whip coiled at her hip gave Sam some ideas.
They bided their time. The three of them sat at a table close to the bar and ordered drinks. Sam started eyeing Michiko with intent. After about fifteen minutes of determined belligerence, she started throwing their table discreet glances. Defiant ones at first, and as the men ignored those, her looks toward their table became ones of longing and curiosity. Even with her mask on, Sam could see Michiko warring with herself over whether she was going to come over to the only men in the whole place who hadn’t come to her.
The other Doms in the room were watching her overtly. They were hungry for her to be brought down a peg. Sam could see the thirst for it in their disgusting faces. He had to hand it to Michiko—she had them eating out of the palm of her hand.
When she started fidgeting and lowered her head, Sam took that as the signal and lifted his chin imperiously at her. She stiffened at first, pretended to be affronted. He waited her out. When she finally stalked her way to their table, she did so in a cat-like strut that a supermodel would envy, running her hand over her own tail like she was petting it.
“Holy furballs, Batman,” Dean said deadpan. “It’s Catwoman.”
Instead of looking offended at his appreciative teasing, Michiko struck a pose and said in a voice only they could hear. “I told you guys already. No fet wear. My kid sister’s Comicon wardrobe is what you get.” She stopped, struck another pose, and spoke loud enough for others to hear. “Don’t you think I’m a pretty kitty?”
Oh shit, yeah, Michiko wasn’t going to have any trouble catching and keeping everyone’s attention, he thought.
“I like your whip,” Sam told her instead. She paused, her eyes widened, and the one visible cheek flushed.
“You know how to use a bullwhip?”
Sam felt a low heat settle in his belly at the longing in her voice. Whip play was heady and dangerous in the wrong hands. Lucky for her, his were the right ones.
“Yeah,” he told her as he pushed up from his seat, “I know my way around one.”
She licked those ruby lips. “If you slash my sister’s suit, she’ll eat your liver with fava beans and a nice Chianti.”
“I know what I’m doing, but thanks for the warning.”
