Page 48 of The Sadist and the Brat

“Fuck a duck,” she muttered, and pushed off the table with a grunt. The light was only a few feet away, pointing at the wall with its beam half buried in the carpet. She made her way over to it carefully, one hand rubbing at her hip—that was definitely going to bruise—and scooped it up.

With the light trained in front of her—she didn’t think there was anything else between her and the bedroom, but she wasn’t taking any chances—she started forward again. Even with the carpeting her footsteps sounded loud, the noise amplified in the dark. She shifted to the balls of her feet in an attempt to stay quiet, and with her heart pounding in her ears and the light guiding the way, crossed the room.

She made it to the bedroom door without incident, which struck her as a little odd. With one hand on the doorknob, she turned to sweep the light behind her. The beam was bright enough to illuminate even the farthest corner, revealing…nothing. The room was empty—even James had disappeared—and unless he was hiding under the pool table, Jack wasn’t here either.

Her stomach did a little top-of-the-roller-coaster flip as she swept the room again. Her heart was pounding with excitement and anticipation, her skin all but tingling. If this was what real cat burglars felt when they plied their trade, she could understand the appeal.

Satisfied that the basement was empty, she laid a hand on the door and pushed. The door swung open and she slipped inside, closing it behind her. She swung the pen light around the room, making sure it too was empty, then started forward. She was here to fake-rob the man, so she might as well have some fun with it.

Jack’s ribs hurt from holding in his laughter, and James wasn’t doing any better. They stood on the stairs, four steps up so they couldn’t be seen from the basement, eyes locked on the monitor in James’ hand. There were no security cameras in the basement, and though James had offered to relocate one of the exterior house cameras for the night, Jack had opted for the baby monitor. He’d used it before, for scenes where he wanted a submissive to think they were alone, and though the camera resolution wasn’t perfect, it was clear enough for them to see Sadie go stumbling into the pool table.

Her muttered “fuck a duck” had come through loud and clear, and he’d had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud. She’d straightened and retrieved her light, rubbing at the hip that had made contact with the pool table, but he couldn’t see any sign of further injury. She moved easily, creeping across the basement like, well, like a cat burglar.

He watched her do another sweep of the room—clever girl—before slipping into the bedroom. When the door clicked shut behind her, he let out a whispering wheeze. “Holy shit.”

James’ shoulders shook with laughter, and his eyes were wet with tears. “Is she all right?”

“I think so.” Jack said, keeping his voice low. He doubted she could hear them from the bedroom, but he didn’t want to risk it. “She hit her hip pretty hard, but she was moving well.”

“Good.” James wiped his eyes. “What’s your plan?”

“Well, once I’ve lost the urge to laugh—”

James snorted. “Good luck with that.”

“—I’m going to walk down there and turn on the lights like I’m coming home from work and catch her in the act.”

James nodded. “Where do you want me?”

“Stay on the stairs,” Jack decided. “When she runs—and she will run—"

“Agreed.”

“—that’s where she’ll go,” Jack continued. “I’m going to try to catch her before she gets there, but just in case.”

“She won’t make it far in those heels,” James predicted. “Nice touch, there.”

“I need some advantage,” Jack explained. “Once I get her back in the bedroom, you can follow us.”

“Do you want me to stay out of sight?”

Jack shook his head. “She specifically requested you as DM, so let her see you.”

James nodded. “It’s your show.”

Jack switched off the monitor and set it down, then picked up the briefcase he’d brought along and headed down. He forced himself to walk slowly and casually, the way he would if he was coming home after a long day at the office, and when he reached the bottom of the stairs, hit the switch.

The lights came back on, illuminating the empty basement, and he started across the room. He could hear her banging around in the bedroom—she’d never be a real cat burglar making that much noise—and forced himself to maintain his pace when everything in him urged him to rush.

With anticipation simmering, he paused outside the bedroom. The thick carpet had muffled his footsteps, and since the noise from inside hadn’t abated he assumed she hadn’t heard his approach. There was a muffled bang, followed by a triumphant “Aha!” and he wondered what she could’ve found to elicit that reaction.

He thought about making some kind of noise to warn her—making his phone ring, or dropping the briefcase—but decided against it. He had the element of surprise on his side, and he wasn’t going to waste it. So he laid a hand on the doorknob, turned and pushed, and stepped into chaos.

Sheer shock had him stumbling to a halt only a few feet inside the door. The tidy guest room he’d stowed his gear in earlier looked like it had been hit by a hurricane. The bed linens had been stripped and lay crumpled on the floor, dresser drawers pulled out and tossed aside, their contents spilling out. The nightstand on the far side of the bed was tilted sideways, leaning drunkenly against the wall, and the drawers of the other had been pulled out, their contents emptied onto the bed. The closet doors were open, the extra blankets that James and Amanda kept on the top shelf in a pile on the floor in front of them, and the chair that James had moved into the room so he could sit and observe had been tipped forward to lay face down on the floor.

He couldn’t see Sadie, but the occasional thump and mutter from the other side of the bed gave him a good clue as to her whereabouts.

“What the fuck?” he said loudly and dropped the briefcase to the floor with a thud.

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