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Authors: Anne O'Connell

BOOK: Switched
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     A few snickers rounded the table.

     Victor continued with that same
smug grin on his face. “She liked gang-bangs and having sex for money. I didn’t
mind. I like watching whores get fucked by many cocks.”

     At this point all of them around
the table were smiling.

     Agares was starting to feel
uncomfortable. While he was never one to judge another person’s sexual
preferences, he was still a victim to his own Catholic upbringing. He
straightened up in his chair. “So she was a prostitute?”

     Victor nodded. “All the women who
work here are whores. See?” He motioned to woman to his right who immediately
hiked up her skirt and spread her legs to reveal her shaved pussy so Victor
could shove three fingers into her.

     Victor pulled his fingers out of
her and immediately put them in his mouth the lick them off.

     Agares could feel the mask of shock
and embarrassment covering his face. “Well thank you. I appreciate your help. I
should probably get going.”

     He stood and turned to leave.

     “Her parents are dead and she has
no brothers or sisters.” Victor said casually behind him. “Her parents died in
a car accident when she was eighteen.”

     Agares stopped in his tracks and
looked back at Victor. “Thank you.”

     Victor nodded, “You are welcome.”

     With that, Agares left the
claustrophobic atmosphere of the dark club and was thankful to find himself
standing on the sidewalk outside. He took a generous breath. The door to the
club opened and the young woman wearing the black dress stepped out.

     “Mr. Agares,” she said, getting his
attention.

     “Yes?”

     “My name is Misha Prell. Laura was
a friend of mine. Umm, could we meet later to talk? I know why Laura left
Victor.” She looked warily at the door to the club then back at Agares. “Victor
was, is, abusive.”

     That didn’t surprise him. It was
obvious, from where he was sitting, that the man was twisted. Agares pulled one
of his cards from his inner pocket and handed it to her. “Call me when you get
off of work and we can meet for coffee later.”

     She took the card gratefully and
smiled at him. “Thank you.”

     With that, she disappeared back
into the club and Agares got into the rented blue, four-door sedan and decided
to go back to his hotel to send Brad Hudak an update, and maybe take in a nap.

    

     

 

     Agares had barely stepped into his
hotel room when his cell phone rang. He answered it without hesitation.

     “Mr. Agares, it’s Misha Prell. Is
there a private place we can talk?”

     “I don’t know the area very well.
Do you have a place you’d prefer to meet?” He took a pad of paper from his back
pocket and a pen from his shirt pocket. It seemed kind of quick that she’d only
waited exactly thirty-four minutes to call him.

     “I don’t want to discuss this in
public. Can I just meet you at your hotel?” She sounded nervous.

     “I suppose you could…” he paused.
“Is everything alright Ms. Prell? You sound nervous.”

     “What I have to tell you could get
me killed,” she whispered. “Where are you?”

     He gave her his hotel and room
number and then they hung up. He imagined she’d tell him how Victor was abusive
and how Laura ran away to get away from the abuse. It was the same old story.
Girl meets boy, boy hits girl, girl runs away. He’d seen it a good number of
times during his career as a private investigator. It was no wonder Ms. Laura
Stanton had moved to the opposite side of the country and changed her name. Of
course Agares suspected that if Laura had been a prostitute, it was probably,
in part, Victor’s doing. Men like that were usually pimps.

     He figured while he waited for Ms.
Press he could get some work done. Sitting down at his computer he began going
through online newspaper archives only to find that Laura Stanton’s parents
had, indeed, died in a car accident. Then he drafted the email to Mr. Hudak.

    

     Dear Mr. Hudak, I have found some
interesting information about your girlfriend. Both of her parents died in a
car accident when she was eighteen. She has no other family. Also, the man she
was dating owned the bdsm club I was telling you about. He’s a Russian and I
don’t mind saying he appeared to me to be a sadistic man. I also met one of
Laura’s old friends, Misha Prell, who is currently on her way to my hotel to
give me the scoop on the ex-boyfriend Victor. She mentioned he was abusive and
suggested there was something bigger going on here. Victor claimed the drug
charges were due to a club patron and he and Laura were falsely accused.
However, he also suggested that Laura worked in the club as a prostitute. I
hate having to share that with you, but I thought you should know the findings
of my investigation. I will send you another email when I’ve finished talking
with Ms. Prell and then I think I’m going to close up here and head to my
family’s place. I don’t think I need to investigate further. With such a tragic
past I imagine this is why your girlfriend changed her name and hasn’t been so
forthcoming. - Ted Agares

 

     He clicked send, and almost
simultaneously there was a knock on the door. He put his laptop in standby,
closed the lid, and went to the door. Opening it, he found Ms. Prell standing
in the hallway, nervously looking around as if she was expecting an ambush.
“Come on in, Ms. Prell.”

     He locked the door behind her and
Misha visibly relaxed. No one would be barging in on this conversation.

     This time her brown hair was pulled
back in a ponytail, but she wore the same black dress and again, she was
barefoot. Before he could ask her about her lack of footwear she said, “I don’t
like to wear shoes. I run around barefoot most of the time. Hope that doesn’t
bother you.”

     He shrugged. It was a little
strange, but he wasn’t one to judge. “So you had something to tell me?”

     “You’re all business, Mr. Agares.”

     “I have to be,” he said. “My
clients don’t pay me to socialize.”

     “Can you tell me if Laura’s okay?”

     “My understanding is that Ms.
Stanton is just fine.”

     She sat down at the small table
near the window. “I thought, for the longest time, that Victor might have
killed her and dumped her somewhere. Like out in the ocean or something.”

     “Victor is
that
abusive?”

     Nodding she offered, “Victor is
Russian mafia, Mr. Agares. I’ve worked for him for a lot of years. Even back
when he and Laura were together. He’s not a man to be messed with. No matter
what, if he comes around asking for information where she is, don’t tell him,
okay?”

     “Do you think he’d go after her?”

     She looked warily at the door and
visibly shuddered. “I think she stole some money from him and it pissed him
off. He would love nothing more than to track her down and take his pound of
flesh…”

     “How come I have a feeling he
already took his pound of flesh from her and more?” Agares didn't like where
this was going, not one bit.

     “Her new boyfriend, the one you
said hired you, he shouldn’t have sent you. Now that Victor has a lead on where
she might be…” Her eyes wandered to the street below and grew big. She got up.
“I have to go, Mr. Agares. Please don’t tell anyone I was here. Please.”

     With that, Misha Prell, all five
foot four of her, hurried from his hotel room and disappeared.

     Agares sat back down at the
computer and composed another quick email to Brad Hudak.

 

     Dear Mr. Hudak, I finished talking
with Misha Prell. The ex is dangerous. I’m starting to feel uncomfortable so
I’m leaving and heading to Anaheim now. Once I’m there and settled I will send
you more detailed information. - Ted Agares

 

     After clicking send, he turned off
the computer, packed up everything in the room, and wandered down to check-out.
There was no sense staying the night, and now that he knew Russian mafia was
involved he figured it was best to play it safe and leave, just in case Misha
was telling the truth. The way she was talking it sounded as if she thought
they would find him and rough him up a little. That wasn’t anything Ted Agares
wanted to get in the middle of. He didn’t get paid well enough for that. No
less than fifteen minutes later he had the car loaded and he was ready to head
to Anaheim. Sitting in the driver’s seat of the rented Ford sedan he dialed his
sister’s number. While the line on the other end rang, he started the car. He
didn’t have a chance to hear his sister’s voice when she picked up the phone,
or to hear or see anything at all because the bomb under the driver side went
off and just like that, Ted Agares was no more.

    

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter
Five

 

     Victor Kolknov ground his teeth
together and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He needed time to think.
First he had to find out where Laura was hiding in Boston. A quick scan of all
the bdsm clubs was sure to produce her, or at least a trace of her. She didn
’t know anything
else. He’d known all along she’d eventually turn up. That bitch owed him a
hundred grand, but he’d let her work it off as a house slave provided she still
had a good body. That’s what he liked most about Laura, her body. She had long
legs, a tight round ass, and her tits were big enough to smack. He remembered
putting clothespins on her nipples and labia and how she’d cried because it
hurt. His cock started to throb in his pants just thinking about it. He hoped
she still shaved her pussy; otherwise he’d do it for her in a room full of
people so they could watch as he bared her for them.

     From the picture the PI showed
them, she hadn’t lost her beauty, though he was disappointed that she changed
her hair color. It was still a toss-up, whether or not he’d kill her. He wasn’t
sure yet. Regardless what happened, he wasn’t playing games with the bitch.

     If she was in acceptable condition
and he did get her back he imagined putting her in one of the coffin boxes in
the garage for a few days to teach her a lesson about disobedience. For three
years he’d wondered if she was going to tell the police what she saw and for
three years he wondered where the hell his money went. His first mistake had
been letting her get too close. He should have never let her sleep in the same
bed with him. She should have had her own cage like the rest of the house
slaves.
She was sexy though
, he reasoned.

     He rubbed his chin. “What’s done is
done, Victor,” he told himself. “You let the slut get too close and now you’re
paying for it. A hundred grand paying for it. She probably got a boob job.”

     After washing his face and making
sure he looked composed and regal, he left the bathroom to the club beyond. His
henchmen were still sitting where he left them. “Richard, I have a job for
you.”

     Master Richard, one of the club’s
more long-term Dom’s and one of Victor’s right hand men nodded. “Sure boss.”

     Victor pulled out the card Misha
had gotten from the private investigator, before his untimely demise, and
handed it to Richard. “This detective, he had his business in a suburb of
Boston. You take some of your guys, go to Boston, and find Laura and my money.
Bring her back to me. I will take care of the rest.”

     “Do we know where she lives?”

     “Doesn’t matter. She’s a whore,
find a club, you’ll find Laura. She likes having her ass whipped.” Victor waved
his hand dismissively.

     Master Richard stood, clutched the
card and nodded at two of the guys sitting at the bar. The three men left to do
Victor’s bidding.

     Victor ran his hand down Misha’s
shoulder, causing her to tense up. “You did very nice, pet. When Laura comes
back you two will be good friends just like old times, eh?”

     Misha gave him a tight smile. “Yes,
Master.”

     “Good. Let this be lesson to all
you girls. You can run from me but eventually I will find you and I will punish
you. Laura’s punishment will be severe, but as long as she still has a nice ass
I won’t kill her.” Victor kissed the top of Misha’s head, causing her to tense
again. The rest of the women in the room looked down, not saying anything.

     Victor smiled. No one defied him.
No one dared steal from him. Perhaps he would punish Laura publicly with a
brutal caning. That was sure to make all the whores under Victor’s charge more
obedient. Just the thought of a solid cane cracking against a disobedient sub’s
ass made his cock stiffen in his pants

     He pointed to Misha; thinking about
her red lips wrapped around his throbbing shaft, and motioned her to follow him
back to his office. After all, his cock wouldn’t suck itself.

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