“Damn,” she muttered. She’d forgotten. Typing e-mails on a small keyboard would be tedious, which explained their brevity. “Emily?”
“Lost again. She caught a bus, this time, and jumped off unexpectedly. I suspect she knew she might be followed after Gibson spoke to her.”
“So you didn’t find the house?”
“Not so far. You were too impatient as usual, impetuous.” He stirred, unwrapping her from his clutches. “I need to phone Martinson. Warn him that you’ve contacted her by e-mail. That was his next plan, if the blackmailer didn’t head home tonight.”
Plans would have to be changed. Her actions had consequences. “We know her address now. Can’t we go there before Raven returns? Check to see if Emily is there?”
Jason snorted. “Assuming they live together. I doubt Emily would leave the house.”
Why ever not! “I could convince her. Take me there now and I will try.” She swung her legs around and sat up.
He stiffened, lifting himself up onto an elbow. The worried expression replaced by his sterner one. “No, Gemma. We simply don’t know enough.”
Her laptop beeped and she stared at it, perched rather precariously on the other side of the bed.
He flicked her cheek, catching her attention. “Did you read the blackmail note in the changing room?” He sidled across the bed towards the laptop.
She admitted her actions with a small nod. “I memorised the e-mail. I didn’t plan to use it at first. That idea came later. What does that note say?” She watched him read the latest e-mail.
“She wants a time. She gave you a place, but no time.”
She bit her lip. She remembered now. “I had to take a pee. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“What were you planning to do with the address? Plant it on me, somehow? Whisper it into my ears as I slept?” His humour was strangely unsettling. Underneath it, she sensed the undercurrent of his previous anger. His mouth hadn’t curled up as he spoke.
“I hadn’t thought that part through. Obviously my ill-conceived idea fell to pieces when I realised you would want to know how I came by the address.”
He smirked. “I came to that conclusion just before you went to pieces.” Jason rose. His silk suit was crumpled and shirt slightly untucked. Signs of his frantic actions when she’d been out of it. How could she make him understand her actions?
Gemma crawled over and knelt on the edge of the bed. “I do trust you, Master. Memories of fear consume me. My own terrors. I keep seeing Emily, and I see me back then. I can’t stop—”
His finger pressed against her lips. “Shh. I understand. I think rationally, you act irrationally. But I’m not the one haunted, you are and I can’t imagine what that feels like. Therefore, I’m going to be forgiving. You’ve got the address. Let’s draw a line under this and move on. Having you freaking out is enough trauma for one day.”
Reaching up, she looped her arms about his neck and threw herself into his opening arms, curling her legs around his waist while his hands slipped under her bottom, supporting her weight. She rained
kisses on his mouth and cheeks. “I love you. Trust you,” she said breathlessly, between smatterings. “Don’t let me fail you.” She eased back.
“I won’t,” he murmured.
She wondered if he would ravish her on the bed. His fingers squeezed her buttock cheeks then he removed them and took hold of her waist, dragging her off his torso. “I’m hungry.”
“Yes, of course, Master. Food, yes,” she blabbered, feet firmly on the floor, and she dashed over to the bedroom door. “Right on it.”
The relief didn’t last long. Standing in the kitchen, she paused with a hand on a cupboard handle. She berated herself—foolish sub. The bitter taste of disappointment lingered in her mouth. She had to show him her trust was solid. She would find a way to prove it to him. He had to understand he was everything to her.
While he telephoned Martinson, she cooked Jason a quick meal of Spanish omelette with crusty bread and butter. He’d taken her laptop and brought it down to the kitchen, placing it on the table. The food vanished as he carved the omelette into large bite-size pieces. She sat next to him, patiently waiting.
He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Martinson’s is secretly impressed with your tactics, but annoyed that you did it behind our backs. He can trace the Raven’s real name using the electoral roll and start to find out about her. I want you to reply to her last e-mail.”
“Emily—”
“Can wait a day. For all we know, she could have been with this woman for ages. Her choice, remember, Gemma. She obviously leaves the house without her. She’s not a prisoner.”
She couldn’t explain what hold the blackmailer might have over Emily, whether purely with terror or some other motivation, like blackmail itself. Perhaps Emily feared her companion so much she would do anything for her. Jason wouldn’t be pushed on the matter.
She quickly typed an e-mail, confirming she would arrive at the house at 8:00 p.m. The response came within minutes.