Chapter 2

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a few seconds, "I have an idea but Jean might not like it," he finally said...

"What's your idea?" she asked.

"Call her ex."

"Who ... Dalton; what could he do that you can't?"

"Are you kidding? Dalton has his own little band of marauders there, honey. Dave Wyland and him go way back, and that reporter buddy of his has more angles than an erector set."

"Who's Dave Wyland?" asked Bel.

"He's a sergeant with the Arlington Hills force; he was in on Jean's arrest. Honey, if those three put their heads together I wouldn't want to be the guy they were after."

"Hold on, honey," Bel said looking across the table at her friend. "He says to call Dalton."

Jean's eyes got big as saucers. "No," she said emphatically, "No, I don't want to get him involved, he could get hurt, Bel; absolutely not!"

"Honey," Bel said back into the phone, "she doesn't want to get him involved; she's afraid he'll get hurt."

"Ask her how he's going to feel if something happens to her and he finds out he might have been able to help." Bel had turned the phone on speaker so Jean could hear her husband.

"I don't care," she said. "He has a beautiful wife and new baby ... no, I won't get him mixed up in my mess."

Bel could see the bruises on Jean's wrists; she didn't care what her stubborn friend said, something had to be done. "Would you call him?" she asked her hubby.

"Me, yeah I'll call him..."

"No!" he heard Jean scream into the phone.

"Honey, you need help; let Dave call him and just discuss it with him," Bel told her. "Dalton's a big boy, he can take care of himself." Jean held her head down and began to cry. "Dave, call him; tell him Jean's in trouble and just see what he says."

"Will do, honey; in the meantime she needs to find a safe place to stay," he told her.

"What about her folks, them too?"

"Yeah, them too," he sighed, "When is she going to see this guy again, does she know?"

"Yeah, he told her he wouldn't be around until next weekend again."

"Okay, at least that gives us a little time; tell her to hang in there, we won't let anything happen to her or her parents."

When Jean heard him over the speaker she cried from a mixture of fear and relief. The waitress came over to see if everything was okay. Bel explained she just got some good news and she was crying out of happiness.

Jean really didn't want Dalton involved but she sure would feel better if she knew he would agree to help her; she'd always felt so safe when she was with him.

Dalton was in the middle of shooting photos for a brochure he was producing for one of the larger down town hotels; he was just about to break for lunch when his phone rang.

"Hello, Dalton Conrad," he said not recognizing the number.

"Hi, Dalton, it's Dave Quinn, how are you?"

"Hey, Dave, long time no see; I'm doing good, how about you?"

"Good, thanks; Dalton, Jean is in trouble."

"What do you mean in trouble, what kind of trouble?"

"She's gotten herself mixed up with some guy, and ... well, he beat her up, pretty badly from what Bel tells me."

Dalton felt his blood coming to a boil. In his mind there was no bigger coward than a man who hits a woman, any woman!

"Where is she; is she in the hospital?"

"No, no, he didn't hurt her that bad, she's just pretty well bruised up and sore, she missed work yesterday but she's there today," he reassured Dalton.

"Who is this asshole?"

"It's some guy she met at one of those bondage meetings, I think they call'em sloshes. Anyway, from what Bel tells me, the guy had been a real gentleman for the first month or so; Jean even took him to dinner with her folks; then he just went off the deep end; he held her captive in his apartment all last weekend. Bel says he tied her up then put a noose around her neck before beating her; Jean said she thought he was going to kill her."

"SHIT!" Dalton yelled out. He had to take a deep breath and try to calm himself before speaking again. "Are you going to pick that asshole up?"

"I'm afraid it's not that easy, my friend. He made all kinds of threats, not only toward Jean but her parents as well. He has her so terrified she won't sign a complaint. I already checked for any warrants on the guy but he's as clean as a whistle."

"So what do we do? What do you suggest? I suppose I could go over to his place and have a nice friendly talk with him."

"Well actually Jean wants you to stay out of it; she's afraid you'll get hurt, but..."

"She knows me better than that," he retorted angrily. "She knows how I feel about guys who hit women. Where the hell does this guy live?"

"Well, it might not be that easy..."

Dave explained that Kevin had threatened Jean, saying he had friends who would beat and rape both her and her parents if anything happened to him or if he went to jail.

"That's why I thought of calling you; I thought maybe you and that reporter buddy of yours could come up with some way to scare this guy off. I don't know if he really has friends like he said or not, but I don't think we can take a chance. I know Bel wants me to put them all under police protection but I can't do that."

"No, of course not," Dalton replied.

"Okay listen, he told Jean he wouldn't see her again until the weekend so you've a few days to figure something out. Now, if there's anything I can do ... within the law that is, I'd be more than happy to help."

"Thanks, Dave, I appreciate that and I appreciate you telling me about this."

They ended the call. Dalton went down to the hotel's restaurant to grab a bite and thought. As long as she was in no immediate danger he would first talk to his wife before getting implicated in Jean's troubles. He didn't think she would have a problem but he was not going to keep anything from her.

That night, after putting the baby to bed, Dalton sat down to tell Tracy about his conversation with Dave Quinn.

"Oh, honey, that's terrible; you have to help her," volunteered Tracy before he even had a chance to ask.

Dalton smiled at his lovely wife. "Thanks, babe, I was hoping you'd feel like that; you won't mind then?"

"Mind? Of course I don't mind; are you kidding, you can't sit by and let that poor girl get beat up, my God that's dreadful."

Dalton leaned in and gently placed a kiss on his wife's lips. "You're something else, you know that? I love you so much," he told her before kissing her again.

Together they walked up the stairs. When they reached the bedroom Dalton took her in his arms; he stared into her loving eyes and tenderly joined their lips together for the third time, "Don't move a muscle," he whispered in a soft, but controlling voice as he broke the kiss.

Tracy knew what that meant; her heart always beat faster when he used that tone with her, it was not the voice of her loving husband, but that of her loving Master. "Yes, Sir," she breathed.

Boldly projecting his dominant persona, Dalton slowly unbuttoned the blouse of his love slave. Her body trembled with anticipation as he sensuously removed her clothing, one article at a time.

"On the bed," he demanded of his naked submissive, "You know the position."

Tracy lay on back with arms and legs spread to the corners of her soon-to-be vehicle of imprisonment. Her breathing became more erratic as her captor secured the soft, velvet ropes to her outstretched limbs.

"Lift your head for me."

As she complied he slipped on her blindfold and positioned it over her eyes. He slowly bent down and allowed their lips to touch, ever so lightly.

Unable to see, Tracy's other senses were heightened. She felt the weight of his body lift from the bed and heard the rustling of what she imagined to be her Master undressing. She could smell the fragrance of her own excitement as she listened for clues and tried to anticipate his next erotic move.

Barely audible were his steps on the thick carpet as he approached; electric shocks of ecstasy shot through her body as she felt the soft, luxurious fur of her Master's Mink glove caressing her ankle. Tracy moaned with delight as his silky smooth hand traveled a seemingly aimless course up her leg, teasing and soothing along its journey; her body writhed under his touch as he explored every erogenous, sexually charged part of her beautiful skin. Her mind screamed in rapture as the lush splendor of the mitten floated over her sensitive nipples then continued on its circuitous way to the gates of heavenly bliss.

After losing herself in several orgasms there was a short pause before her loving Master's lips replaced his hand; he nipped at her hard nipples. Wave after wave of pleasure wafted over her body. His soft lips roamed the hills and valleys of her nakedness; she cried out with carnal hedonism as his tongue found the entrance to her deliciously wet slit.

She wanted to beg him to enter her, but he was Master and she knew better than to place demands on him.

Just when she thought he would drive her totally insane she felt him moving into position; his strong arms straddled her body, she could sense him hovering overhead. Her hips pushed forward to meet the powerful cock that tapped at the entrance to that which was his and his alone. With one smooth stroke he was in; her frenzied screams of passion were all he demanded of his slave. Together they would recommit themselves to the love, respect, and honor they shared. She could feel him stiffen and knew he would join her in another mind-numbing trip to paradise.

Dalton collapsed beside his precious jewel and fought for each breath. After they both regained some semblance of normalcy he walked around releasing Tracy from her bonds. Once free she walked to the bathroom and returned with a warm wash cloth; "May I clean my Lord and Master?"

When she was done Tracy crawled into bed and snuggled into the nook of her husband's shoulder. As they basked in their mutual love, she had a thought. "Honey, just don't get yourself in trouble, okay?"

"Huh," he said half asleep already.

"When you help Jean, just don't get yourself in trouble."

"I won't, babe; I promise. I'll call Jack in the morning. Together we should be able to come up with some way to get rid of this idiot."

Assured and having all the confidence in the world in her husband, Tracy, feeling safe and secure in his arms, drifted into dreamland.

"Jack Northrupe, please."

"Hold on; Jack, call on line four."

"This is Jack Northrupe, can I help you?"

"Jack, it's Dalton, I'm going your help old buddy."

After finishing up his assignment for the hotel, Dalton met his friend at Plato's Place, their favorite watering hole. Jack Northrupe was an investigative crime reporter for the state's largest newspaper. Through the years he had worked with every law enforcement agency around and was well liked and respect by them all. They'd known one another since the days when Dalton worked for the same paper as a staff photographer years ago. Since then their friendship had only grown stronger.

"So what do you think," asked Dalton after explaining Jean's situation, "I want to just go over there and beat the crap out of the guy but everybody's worried he might actually have some friends that would go after Jean and her parents. Somehow we have to take care of the shit-head without him thinking Jean had anything to do with it."

"I'll say one thing for you, Dalton; you always come up with a challenge. Does Tracy know you're doing this?"

"Oh yeah, we discussed it last night; she's all for it."

"Okay, do you know anything about his habits; his likes and dislikes, in addition to beating up women, I mean?"

"No, not really; Dave Quinn said he ran a check and the guy's clean, no warrants anywhere. That's all I know."

"How about work, do you know where he works?"

"Well, I know he works as a service manager at some Cadillac dealership but I don't know which one."

"Okay, well that's a start; You said he lives in Whelling, I can't think of a Caddy dealership within ten miles from there so chances are once he leaves his apartment in the morning he probably doesn't get home till later that night. That'll give us a chance to search his place tomorrow, if we're lucky maybe we'll find something we can use against him."

"How are we going to get in without him knowing?"

Jack looked as if Dalton had just insulted him. "Please, you don't think I can pick the lock on an apartment door? Shame on you."

Dalton smiled, "Sorry, old buddy, I guess I forgot who I was talking to."

"I guess you did," he replied with a big grin. "Can you meet me there early tomorrow morning? Most of those guys have to be at work by seven; I'd like to be in the parking lot about six and watch to make sure he doesn't call in sick or something. Then we'll give him half an hour or so before we go in. So, do you at least know what he looks like?"

"No, but I know what kind of car he drives and it's got dealer plates; it shouldn't be too hard to find."

"I'll see you at six," said Jack throwing back the last swallow of beer.

"I'll be there my friend; thank you so much for this."

At the supper table, Tracy got a little worried when she heard what Jack and her husband were up to. He assured her Jack knew what he was doing.

The next morning the two would-be burglars didn't have to wait long. They watched as a well-built man got into his Escalade and drove off.

"I checked," Jack mentioned. "The nearest Caddy dealer is twelve miles away; I doubt very much if he'll be home for lunch; we should have plenty of time, a guy like that's got a have something to hide."

They waited long enough to make sure Kevin hadn't forgotten anything. It took Jack about thirty seconds to pick the lock and they were inside. It was a strange feeling for Dalton; he'd never broken into anyone's place before. A little twinge of nerves shot through his body as he looked around. This guy wasn't particularly clean. There were dirty dishes in the sink and a moldy smelling wet towel sloppily hanging over a kitchen chair.

"Okay," said Jack, "You check his computer first. You know how to check for email addresses?"

"Yeah," Dalton responded.

"Alright, while you're doing that I'll check the bedroom. If you go through any drawers or anything, just make sure you put everything back like it was."

"Will do."

Dalton fired up the computer. Since Kevin lived alone he had no reason to protect anything using passwords, everything was easily accessible. After a while Jack came out to join him.

"Man, his bedroom's full of all kinds of torturing devises but I really didn't find anything we could use, how about you?"

"Look at this, he takes pictures of his victims," Dalton said showing his friend the computer screen. "Look, here's Jean; look at all the bruises; that mother-fucker; I want a piece of this asshole, Jack."

"I don't know, he looked pretty well built, you sure you could take him?"

"I don't know but I'd sure be willing to give it the old college try," replied Dalton.

"Did you download all that stuff?"

"Yeah, I've got everything on a thumb drive but I don't know what good it'll do us, these women might not even be from around here; I sure don't recognize any of them, they could be from anywhere. How are we going to track them down?"

"I'm not sure that stuff will help but take it just in case, you never know. Come on, let's keep looking," suggested Jack.

After two hours they had come up with nothing more than the pictures they got from his computer. Dalton was getting discouraged.

"Come on, there's nothing here; let's get out of here before we get caught."

"Hey, Dalton, look at the books this guy reads. You know you can tell a lot about a guy by his taste in literature."

Dalton went over to the small book case to take a look. "They're all about the mafia and organized crime, most of them about Chicago ... you don't think this guy's connected do you; those friends he was talking about, you don't suppose..."

"Nah," interjected Jack. "There's no way the cops wouldn't have something on this guy if he was really connected; more than likely he's a wannabe; he probably thinks beating up women makes him out to be some kind of mobster or something."

"Well, as far as I can see, we haven't found a damn thing that's going to help Jean. Come on, let's get out of here. This is Thursday already, I've got to figure a way to get her and her folks out of town before this asshole finds out they're missing."

That afternoon Jean sat at her desk, she was getting nervous again. Bel kept telling her not to worry but she hadn't heard anything from anyone since she spilled the beans on Tuesday. Her mind was in a fog when she got an eerie feeling she was being watched; she looked up and saw the tall figure of the only man she ever loved, frame by her doorway.

"Hi, Jean," he said with a smile.

"Dalton," she whispered almost inaudibly. She wanted to jump into his arms; she wanted to feel the warmth and passion she once knew as his wife, but of course that wouldn't happen ... never again would it happen, and she knew it, but seeing him in the doorway brought back so many wonderful memories. "Come on in, can I get you something ... coffee?"

"No thanks, I stopped by because your girlfriend's husband called me," he said walking in and sitting down in a chair on the opposite side of her desk. "What I want to know is, why you didn't call me; how come I had to hear you were in trouble from Dave Quinn?"

Jean lowered her eyes, "Dalton, I ... I just didn't want my screw up to cause you and Tracy any grief. I already caused you enough."

He sighed, "Jean that's all over with, we're both moving on with our lives, but that doesn't mean I would stand by while some prick uses you for a punching bag; you know better than that."

"That's exactly why ... I, um..."

"Okay, forget it," he told her. "Right now we have to figure out a way to get you out of this mess. Jack and I are working on it, but for right now, we need to get you and your parents to a safe place for a while. I talked to your boss; he's agreed to give you next week off. You can take it as vacation and get paid or as leave and not get paid, that's up to you but I want you completely out of sight next week; you and your folks."

Jean was starting to feel better already just knowing Dalton was helping her.

"Now, here's what we're going to do; I want to make this Kevin guy think you and your folks are out of town on a family emergency so he won't go around looking for you; so, I'm going to have your parents call him tomorrow and say they're looking for you. They'll tell him it's a family emergency. A couple hours later you'll call him, supposedly from the airport, and tell him your aunt is dying; you and your parents are flying out to be with her and you're not sure when you'll be back. They'll back you up if he calls here. Everyone's been alerted and will say you had an out of town emergency and they don't know how long you'll be gone. In the meantime you'll be safely tucked away in a hotel. Eric Watts is going to stay with you."

"Who's Eric Watts?" inquired Jean.

"He's the other cop that was with Dave Wyland when you were arrested."

"Oh my God, Dalton, I can't see him again, I'll be so embarrassed," she shrieked.

"Jean, he's a cop; I'm sure he's seen things since then that are much worse than anything he saw that day, believe me. Besides, he volunteered. He has vacation time coming and he's willing to spend it protecting you and your folks so don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

"But," she said shaking her head, "where will we all stay? I don't the money to put everybody up in a motel for a week."

"Don't worry about it, I have it handled. I'm doing a brochure for the Brownstone Hotel, down town. I worked a trade-off; I told them I would shave some off the price in exchange for two rooms. You and your folks have a two bedroom suite on the twelfth floor, Eric will be in the next room and they're adjoining just in case. You also have free food. You can eat in their restaurant and just sign it to the room; that way you don't even have to leave the hotel."

"Oh, Dalton, I can't let you do all this; how will I ever repay..."

"Enough," he snapped. "It's all worked out so don't worry about it." He stood, "Pack up what you're going to need tonight and bring it with you tomorrow. After work you'll meet me at your folks and they'll make the first call from there, then we're all going to the hotel; you'll make the second call from there after you're all settled in then shut your phone off. The room is reserved under Conrad's Photography so not even the hotel staff will know who's staying there." He turned to leave. "Don't worry, Jean," he said looking back as he reached the door, "we're going to get this guy," he said with a reassuring smile.

Just as he started to leave Bel approached, "Dalton, I assume this means you're going to help Jean?" Without saying a word he smiled, gave her a small kiss on the cheek and walked out.

Bel looked at her smiling friend behind the desk. "Okay, what's going on? I just heard you have a family emergency and won't be in next week; is everything alright?"

"Bel, honey, everything is much better than alright," she said, now grinning.

The next day, after work, Jean was all packed and drove over to her parent's house just as planned. Once they had the luggage loaded in the car and they were ready to go, Jean's mom called Kevin's home phone and left an urgent sounding message on his answering machine before heading out.

"Hello, Kevin, this is Audrey Barnes. We're looking for Jean and wondered if she was with you? If she is would you have her call us right away, please. We have a family emergency. Thank you."

There wasn't much that wasn't indelibly etched in Jean's mind from that awful day years ago; she recognized Eric as soon as she saw him waiting in the hotel lobby, even without his uniform.

Dalton greeted him first. "Hi, Eric," he said as they shook hands, "Man, I want to thank you for doing this; you're a real life-saver."

"Are you kidding; a free week in a luxury hotel like this, who wouldn't volunteer?" He turned toward Jean and noticed the flush in her cheeks, "Hi, Jean," he said extending his hand, "It's nice to see you again."

Jean bashfully took his hand then introduced him to her parents. A couple bellhops approached with their bags and everyone was shown to their rooms.

Jean's mother looked around with her mouth open. "Oh, Dalton; this is spectacular." Everyone agreed and thanked him again and again as they surveyed the lavishly appointed suite.

Once they were settled in, Jean called Kevin's cell phone. Much to her relief it went to voice mail and she was able to leave a message instead of talking to him personally.

"Kevin, this is Jean; I'm sorry to call you on such short notice but my aunt is dying and I'm flying out with mom and dad to see her before she passes. I'll call you as soon as I get back."

"Perfect," Dalton told her, "Now turn off your phone and leave it off, if I need to contact you I'll call the room."

Eric was standing next to her and noticed the tears from worry. "Don't fret," he told her in a calm, relaxed voice; "Everything's going to be fine, I promise I won't let anyone hurt you."

Okay, now what, thought Dalton as we was getting into his car to leave. Just then his phone rang, it was Jack.

"Jack, old buddy, I sure hope you have some good news for me." He heard Jack chuckle a little on the other end; that was a good sign, he wouldn't do that unless he had something up his sleeve.

"Dalton, my friend, how soon can you meet me at Plato's?"

"Ah, well; rush hour traffic should be dying down by now, depending on what the Kennedy looks like, I'm guessing thirty-five, forty minutes."

"I'll see you there."

Dalton was excited to hear what Jack had in mind as he sat on the stool next to his pal and ordered a beer. "Well?"

Jack slid several photographs in front of him. "See these two guys?"

Dalton looked at the photos. There were various shots taken in different locations during different times of the day, but they were all pictures of the same two guys. In some of the shots they were either together or with someone else, but most of them just showed each guy by himself. "Yeah, who are they?" he asked.

"This," Jack said placing his finger on one of the photos, "is Billy, 'The Button, ' Spinozo; he's hit man for the mob out of Detroit, and his partner here," Jack said pointing at one of the other pictures, "is Johnny Iota, also a hit man for the mob."

Now he really had Dalton worried; he wasn't sure just what Jack was leading up to. "You're not going to tell me these are the friends that asshole is talking about."

"No, no, no," Jack quickly replied, "But they're going to play a key role in getting our boy out town ... in a hurry ... never to return."

"Okay, Jack; I can usually read you, but I'm lost. How the hell are these guys going to help? You planning on having the guy bumped off?"

Jack laughed, "No, nothing quite that drastic, but you're close." Jack took a swig of beer then smiled at his own cleverness. He'd pulled off a few scams here and there, usually in co-operation with some law enforcement agency, but this will be one for the history books.

"Dalton, do you remember when Sal Dimarco got whacked a couple years ago? His body was found in the trunk of his car at O'Hare."

"Yeah, sure; he was pretty high up the ladder in the Chicago crime syndicate. I remember them finding his body, why?"

"Well, it was never proven, but it's pretty common knowledge that these are the two guys that did it. Tony Dimarco, Sal's brother was so sure, he put a fifty thousand dollar contract out on them; neither of them have been seen since. The Feds aren't sure if someone collected on the contract, or if they left the country."

"Where did you get these shots?" asked Dalton.

"From the Feds; when we saw those books at asshole's apartment yesterday, I got thinking. This morning I went over to the Federal building to see if I could talk them out of some of their surveillance photos and voila."

"Okay, I still don't see how these are going to help Jean."

"My artistic friend, that's where you come in," he told Dalton.

When Dalton got home that night he couldn't contain his glee. He had to share Jack's diabolical plan with his wife.

"Oh, honey; the guy's going to piss his pants, I love it," she laughed. "Can I help?"

"Well, I'm not sure what you can do, It's kind of a one man project." When he saw the disappointment in her face, he added, "but I'm sure we can find something for you. Come on, we need to study these shots and figure out which ones to use."

Tracy accompanied her husband to his office where they both poured over the surveillance photos, selecting the best candidates for their purpose. He made a copy of the ones he wanted to carry with him.

"Do you think this is enough, just four shots?" asked Tracy.

"Yeah, well there'll be more than just these; Jack is putting together some more stuff on his end as well."

"Just be careful, honey; I don't know what I'd do if anything ever happened to you," Tracy said as she looked into his eyes and kissed her man.

"I'll be careful, babe; I've done this kind of thing with a lot more dangerous characters than this jackass. I know what I doing," he told her to comfort her worries. "I can't do anything until Monday anyway; the weekend is too unpredictable and I'm not spending it sitting in his parking lot wondering if he's ever coming out."

On Monday, while Dalton started to implement his part of Jack's plan, Eric Watts was just stepping into the shower of his luxury hotel room. He couldn't believe he was given such an opportunity.

The first time Eric saw Jean was over four years ago when they broke into her motel room and arrested her and her lover for Adultery. It was explained to him later, that Jean wanted to experiment with some bondage games; for some reason she was afraid to bring it up to Dalton, who she was married to at the time, so she found a collaborator in one of her co-workers. When Dalton found out he swore out a complaint charging his wife with adultery and named her lover as a co-defendant. When they broke into their motel room Jean's naked body was handcuffed to the bed and blindfolded.

He'd often thought of her after that. Eric had no interest in bondage but there was something about Jean herself that struck a chord with him. She was so terrified, so vulnerable that day when her world came crashing down around her; even then, he wanted to put his arms around the grief stricken woman and tell her everything would be okay; of course he couldn't; not then anyway, but maybe he'd get another chance.

Dalton sat in the parking lot of Kevin's apartment house waiting; he'd picked a vantage point that he hoped would give the results he was looking for; he needed some profiles. He had no idea how long it was going to take, but he was hoping to wrap things up fairly quickly.