Unwrapped: Clear Security's Holiday (Clear Security Holiday Book 2) Read online

  ***

  I knock on the doorjamb of Judge Michael Williams’ chambers.

  “Come in, Ms. McPhee,” he calls. “Shut the door behind you.”

  I do as I’m told, and he points me to a chair across from him.

  “I heard you were in today with the Hunter Anderson case.”

  I nod. “He’s an innocent kid with not enough sense.”

  He turns away and looks out the window. “I also heard you took care of an issue for Mistress Erin.”

  I’m not sure where he’s going with this, but I try to be friendly without giving up too much information. I’ve seen him at The Dungeon before, so I know he’s a member. “It was crazy with the Thanksgiving holiday.”

  He takes a deep breath and looks back at me. “I was hoping you could help me with an issue.”

  “I’d be happy to. You’ve always been generous with your time when I had questions or needed help. I’d love to return the favor.”

  He pauses. I can tell he’s trying to figure out if he can trust me. “Someone has pictures of me,” he finally says.

  Pictures? What kind of images? “From this weekend?”

  “And before.” I notice a slight tremor in his hand. He’s nervous.

  Now I understand. These are the kinds of pictures that lose judges their appointments. I need to be delicate. “How are they being delivered to you? Email? Text? Mail?”

  “Slipped under my door here.”

  There’s a US Marshal outside the office, so this is someone who has access.

  “Do you mind showing them to me?” I ask.

  He looks out the window again. I know if this gets out, his career and ability to be taken seriously are gone, and he’s in maybe his early fifties. I can’t push him. If I do, he’ll pull away.

  “Judge, you know you aren’t the only person of note who enjoys that magical place. I promise I won’t share this with anyone outside of my team. In fact, to start with, it will only be with Maureen O’Connor. She’s my IT security person, and I trust her completely.”

  I see the sweat on his upper lip. “This is really hard for me.”

  “I know it is. But I promise it won’t be because of me or my team that it goes public. The quicker we can figure this out, the better.”

  He reaches down to a drawer and pulls out a manila envelope. He hands it to me.

  “I’ll wait to open this in my office. Is everything inside—the threat and all the pictures?”

  He avoids my gaze. “Promise me you’ll find who did this. If I have to pay your rate, I will.”

  “Let’s see if we can’t get this figured out without too much trouble.” I place the envelope in my bag. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s going to be okay, Michael,” I say as I reach the door.

  He won’t look at me.

  ***

  Just as I’m walking out, I hear my phone ping, signaling a text.

  Mason: I’ve paid the bail. It was much easier than I expected. He should be out in less than an hour. Would you like me to wait?

  Me: If you don’t mind. I’m on my way.

  It doesn’t take long to walk across the street to the city jail where they’re holding Hunter. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the big, ugly boil on the ass of the SFPD, Wang-Fang Leong, approaching me like he has a homing device.

  “Where you headed there, little lady?” he says in his best impression of John Wayne.

  “My client has posted bail, and I‘m going to take him home.”

  “I hope he’s going to your place, because his apartment is currently a crime scene.”

  “Of course it is. I suppose it will be a crime scene for a few weeks since the city is understaffed.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Because, Wang-Fang, you’ve always been a petty little shit who would rather go out of his way to show someone you have a little bit of power rather than sit back and exude any actual power.”

  He gets in my face, and I can tell he’s angry. “My name’s not Wang-Fang.”

  “I know. You changed it because kids can be so cruel… Does your tiny dick look like a fang?”

  Detective Leong is a few inches taller than me and twice as wide. When he steps close, his breath smells of yesterday’s fish. He snarls, but I’m not scared.

  “You don’t scare me, Wang-Fang. I’ve known you since you arrived in San Francisco. Let me be clear: if you want to harass my client, I have plenty of ways to make your life equally miserable.”

  “Maybe I should let the FBI know that we think your dad is passing you IRA information. I know you’re protected today, but I’d hate to see you in jail after your father dies. Do you think the FBI would believe some fluffed-up, IRA, gun-toting slut over a police officer as upstanding as I am?” He smiles.

  “Maybe not, but given that I recorded this exchange and the one last night at the police station, I think they might find I’m not as dumb as you seem to think, particularly because everything you’ve said is being saved real-time on a cloud server.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Gross. No thank you. I mean, not only do you not bathe with any regularity, but you also haven’t brushed your teeth in a decade.”

  I shove past him before he pushes me too far and I land in a jail cell on some trumped-up charge. I did hit record on my device today, and I did record part of the conversation yesterday, but it wouldn’t be enough. He can make my life miserable, and I expect he’ll make sure the FBI comes snooping around. Again. They won’t find anything, but I’ll send a note to my office to let them know—in code, of course.

  Me: I’m feeling like a good corned beef sandwich for lunch. Anyone up for an order? Shannon? Maureen?

  Shannon: I’m on it. Corned beef for me. No problem.

  Maureen: I’ll take some of the Guinness beef stew.

  Oh, that sounds good for my dinner tonight. I call The Blarney Stone, an Irish pub and an old IRA haunt. These days they’re better known for good Irish food, pints of Guinness, and shots of whiskey, but the text message also lets my team know to prepare for a search warrant.

  A sweet Irish brogue answers the phone, and I recognize it immediately. “Sinead, it’s Fiona. Would you have three orders of Guinness beef stew and four corned beef sandwiches sent over to my office?”

  “Sure,” she says. “How are you?”

  “Not too bad, just busy. I’m missing my mam’s cooking. You still serving good food you can send me to cut off the homesickness?”

  “Only if you promise to go visit your father.” The light cadence of her Irish accent shines through, despite the years she’s been in the US.

  “Ah, Sinead, he doesn’t want to see me. Honest.”

  “Yes, he does. He’s so proud of you, but your time is running out.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, and if you could send those over to my office, I’d appreciate it. And two of those stews are for dinner tonight.”

  “I’ll include extra biscuits,” she confirms.

  “You’re too good to me.” I smile.

  “Go. Visit. Your. Father.”

  “I’m already expecting a visit from the FBI. It’s not a good time.”

  She lets out a sigh. “Try. Your father’s not doing too well, and he’d like to see you.”

  “Okay, I’ll go in a few days,” I relent.

  “Thank you. You’re a good lass.”

  I hang up as I walk into city jail to pick up Hunter, and I see Mason scrolling through his phone.

  He looks up when I approach. “I saw you were talking to Detective Leong. He accosted me when I walked in, too.”

  My ears perk up. “What did he ask you?”

  “My relationship with Hunter. But I had security with me, so he wasn’t too aggressive.”

  “There’s something not right with that man. Watch yourself.”

  “Message received, loud and clear,” Mason says.

  Hunter is led out, and he looks terrible. Hi
s eyes are red-rimmed, and his hands shake. I give him a big hug.

  “I can’t believe Jenn is gone,” he moans.

  “I know.”

  He breaks down and sobs loudly. “I’d never hurt Jenn. Ever. She was my everything.”

  I pat him on the back. “Let’s get you back to my office. We can get you some fresh clothes and a shower.”

  Hunter continues sobbing, but he nods. My driver pulls up, and Mason helps me get Hunter in the back of the Range Rover.

  We arrive back at my office just as lunch is being delivered.

  I send Hunter to the bathroom upstairs and get him a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.

  “We’re bug-free,” Shannon announces. ‘I’ll check again in the morning.”

  “Thank you. I’ll have Trevor Flannigan come in and stay tonight with Hunter so he’s not alone. He’s pretty broken up about Jenn’s death.”

  Trevor is a third-year law student who periodically helps out. I hope after he graduates, he’ll join my firm. I could use the help.

  Maureen reaches for her sandwich. “I put the extra drives in the floor safe. And I have a fire bag ready to go. You think the FBI is coming?”

  “Maybe not tomorrow, but soon. I pissed off Detective Leong, and that’s the only way he can get me back. Also, when I ordered lunch, I was told I need to go see my dad.”

  Maureen stops what she’s doing. “Are you sure?” She knows what a visit to my father will bring down on the office.

  I nod.

  We eat, and Hunter wanders around.

  After we’re done, I sit down with him. “Hunter, your apartment is a crime scene, so you can’t go home.”

  His eyes grow wide.

  “Don’t worry. There’s an apartment with two bedrooms upstairs. Tonight you can stay here with Trevor. He’s about your age and a law student. You can play some games on the Xbox or we have several streaming services and cable television.”

  He looks down.

  “You can stay until your apartment is ready, or as long as you need to. I won’t charge you rent until after your court case.”

  He looks up and smiles weakly.

  When we’re finished, I head into my office and shut the door behind me. I pull the manila envelope Judge Williams gave me out of my purse. Slipping on a pair of rubber gloves, I open it and shake the contents out on my desk, careful not to touch anything. There are six pictures. Given his varied attire, it looks like they were taken over at least three different visits.

  In one picture, he has a look of pure satisfaction. There’s a ball gag in his mouth and his arms are restrained behind him. I can’t fully see his torso, but he has cane marks on his exposed ass and alligator clamps on his nipples.

  The second picture has him naked. He has a Prince Albert piercing and his nipples are pierced, and they’re all connected to D-rings and a chain.

  The third picture shows his face buried in a woman’s vagina, and another woman is impaling him with a dildo.

  The fourth picture is somewhat tame—he’s being led around on a leash, naked.

  The fifth picture has him on a St. Andrews cross, and there are pink marks from a flogging all over his body.

  The final picture is him kneeling in a sub pose—his hands on his knees with his palms up and his head bowed. He’s licking a leather boot that’s buried in his crotch.

  I can see why he wouldn’t want these to get out. I pull out the note and read it.

  I know your dirty little secret. Does your daughter know? What about your constituents? Start thinking about how much money you have to make these pictures go away. Then double it, and then double that number. That might be close to what I’m thinking. I’ll be in touch.

  I let out a big breath and call Maureen into my office.

  “Whoa,” she says when she sees my desk.

  I hand her a pair of rubber gloves. “I know. This is Judge Michael Williams. Someone is blackmailing him. All of these photos were taken at The Dungeon.”

  She looks through the pictures, apparently noticing not the content but the clarity. “These were taken with a good camera and lens. But anyone with equipment like that would have been escorted out.”

  “I agree.”

  I shuffle through the photos. “I’d like copies of them—good copies. I need to see Mistress Erin late tonight at closing.”

  “I’ll scan them into my computer,” Maureen says.

  “Be sure to save them on a hidden cloud drive. We can’t risk the FBI or SFPD finding them. He was reluctant to let me know he was being blackmailed.”

  “Not a problem.”

  When the door closes behind her, I take a deep breath. My days are never boring. I need to do a few things before my dinner tonight.

  Chapter 4

  Bash

  When my alarm goes off, it wakes me from the most delicious dream. I can’t quite remember what I was doing, but my cock is even harder than it usually is in the morning. I’d like to think Fiona was riding me nice and slow, her tits in my face.

  It was a short night, but I’ve got a full day ahead of helping the Irish Siren, as I’ve decided to call her. I also want to work out before I go into the office. If I don’t do it in the morning, I won’t get it done.

  I have a routine. I do cardio for sixty minutes, and then I work something particular for another forty-five. Today I’m doing lats, so lots of sit-ups and crunches. I love today. Great energy.

  I watch the sunrise and grab a smoothie with protein powder to get me through the morning. I always have protein bars to get me through the afternoon if time doesn’t permit a lunch break. I’ll be in the office, so it should be okay. But you never know what rolled in over the weekend.

  When I drive up at the Clear Security building, I park my Range Rover in my assigned spot. Looking out over all the cars, I feel like there are a lot of guys compensating for small dicks. Personally, I’m a big guy. I don’t want to be scrunched in a tiny car. Plus, the potholes in this city are brutal to a car’s suspension.

  Inside, the elevator doors open upstairs, and the office is humming—not at full volume yet, but give it twenty minutes. I put my bag down, grab my bottle of water, and head into Jim’s office. “Hey, boss.”

  “Hey.” Jim looks up from his computer. “Mistress Erin is incredibly happy with your team’s performance last night.”

  “There was definitely some crazy shit going down. We confiscated coke and heroin.”

  Jim’s eyes grow large. “Does she have a member dealing? Or, God forbid, an employee?”

  “I don’t think so. I think it was all brought in for recreational use.”

  Jim has a hint of a frown.

  “As I said last night, we broke up some fights—too much alcohol and people in fetish wear.”

  “She’s going to lose her liquor license,” Jim warns.

  “I don’t know. She had the head of ABC there,” I counter.

  Jim sits forward, his eyes wide. “The head of the Alcoholic Beverage Commission?”

  “Yes, for the state—Joshua Applegate.”

  Jim whistles through his teeth. “Okay, Erin knows what’s she doing.”

  “Any other clients beyond Hunter in trouble today?” I ask.

  “We had a breaking and entering at Elena Tuskan’s place.”

  “Did she forget to turn the alarm on again?”

  “We think it’s the head of her technology team, who she’s fucking on the side,” Jim says.

  He doesn’t judge, but most of our clients were the nerds in school. Now they have money, which has bought them friends and problems they don’t know how to handle.

  “That has trainwreck written all over it.”

  “Tell me about it.” Jim rubs his temples.

  “Anything you need my help with?”

  “You have the big case with the most moving parts. Maureen from Fiona’s office and Gage have already exchanged words this morning via instant message.”

  I roll my eyes. “Why was Gage work
ing so early?”

  “I don’t think I’m supposed to know this, but Stella is pregnant again—and pissed. They were using double protection. She’s had the depo shot and was making him wear a condom.”

  “Damn, those are some seriously determined motherfuckers.” I snicker.

  Jim nods. “Stella pretty much kicked him out while she comes to terms with a fourth child.”

  “We can hire her a nanny here at the office,” I offer.

  Stella came to us after her previous job let her go. She’s been our office manager and mother hen for years. We didn’t realize how much we needed her until we had her.

  “Or maybe she needs someone at night,” I continue. “Or maybe both. Four kids under seven would be rough.”

  “Whatever it takes,” Jim agrees. “I’ll go without pay before I let Stella quit.”

  “I’ll pitch in, if you need me to. This place would be chaos without her. She’s already got the holiday party going and is bugging everyone to bring a plus one—like I know if I want a plus one three weeks from now.”

  “I do have that covered,” Jim says with a smile.

  “Rub it in,” I tease. “If you don’t go on that honeymoon, though, she may trade you in.”

  Jim chuckles. “I’m working on it.”

  I return to my office and begin finding the information I promised Fiona for tonight. I get pulled into a few meetings regarding some last-minute holiday coverage our clients are needing. Not everyone can be spontaneous when it comes to out-of-town travel.

  I return to gathering the information Fiona was looking for, and suddenly it’s after six thirty. If I don’t leave now, I’ll never make it across town to be on time. Still, I spend a few minutes in our locker room making sure I look good. Typically, I wouldn’t care, but Fiona might be fun to play with for a while.

  Chapter 5

  Fiona

  I rarely meet people in my home, because my place is my personal space. Usually, I would insist Bash meet me at my office, which is part loft with multiple offices for my staff on the third floor and a large conference room. I have smaller, more intimate rooms that seem kind of like someone’s living room. And, since it’s a work-live space, I have a few bedrooms up on the fourth floor accessible by an internal set of stairs. Hunter’s parked in one of those for now. I need to be prepared for anything. People come to us with extreme problems, and my job is often that of a fixer.