I linger at the railing, sipping my scotch, the night breeze stroking my face. The pity party is in full swing right now. Looking back, it seems like so much of my life was shit: the shithole town in west Texas where I grew up, the shitfaced father who left us, the puta of a mother who had shit where her spine should have been, and finally, the shit-assed fucker she chose for her second husband. Somehow I managed to escape it all but not before Julio left his mark on me. I shudder at the memory of his ugly paws on my body, pinching and slapping, then his weight grinding on top or behind me, according to his whim.

It was a miracle I lasted through high school graduation. As soon as I got my diploma I couldn't leave that rathole fast enough. I made my way to Las Vegas, which was an improvement, but not by much. I got into the BDSM scene there. Maybe because of the way I was introduced to sex, maybe for whatever other deep psychological reason, I found I enjoyed it. I even thought of becoming a professional Dominatrix but decided there were too many risks.

After a quick course in blackjack dealing, I worked at that while I went to beauty school. Once I got my cosmetologist license I started at the salons on The Strip, working my way up until I got a job at Caesars Palace. That was where I met Linc; I got called to his suite for a manicure and he liked what he saw.

When Linc brought me to Seattle I thought my troubles were over and in many ways they were. But life was not idyllic, especially after the miscarriage I suffered. Linc was distant and cold. He was away much of the time and wouldn't allow me to have a job. Dabbling in the Seattle BDSM scene helped relieve some of the boredom but it wasn't enough. Neither was the social whirl of Grace and Carrick and their endless round of fundraisers.

Then Christian came along and I felt alive for the first time in my life. It was thrilling, it was forbidden, and I enjoyed every minute of it. But now that's over and I'm just a washed-up middle-aged hag trying to cling to my youth.

Stop! Enough! I refuse to give in. There are too many people out there who would love to read a news report saying I was splattered all over the sidewalk. I won't give them the satisfaction. I haven't come this far to throw it all away so easily. I finish my scotch, then reach back as far as I can and pitch the tumbler out into the night. Pity party is over. The bitch is back.

It's after midnight but I'm edgy and need some sort of release. I pick up my cellphone and tell it "call Isaac." He answers sleepily and I tell him to be in the dungeon in ten minutes. After an hour or so of abusing him I head to bed.

The next few days are filled with routine business but when the weekend arrives the news is dominated by the story of the kidnapping of Christian's sister. It seems his wife saved the day although at some cost – she's in the hospital. Mia's unharmed but I imagine Christian must be apoplectic. He pays a fortune for security and I wonder how it could have failed so badly seeing as these are the people closest to him.

Reading the news story I see pictures of the kidnappers. One is a woman named Elizabeth Morgan but when I see a picture of the other one, a man, I catch my breath. His name is Jack Hyde and he's the same man who watched Christian and me in the bar earlier this week. I reread the article but there's no indication of motive; Anastasia worked for him so that seems to be his connection to Christian.

I wonder if I should tell the police that I've seen this man stalking Christian. Besides not being sure it's relevant, I don't want to look like I'm making some pathetic attempt to get back in Christian's life.

As the owner of Esclava, I've made many donations to the police benevolent fund; my point of contact there has been a detective named Maggie O'Malley. I decide to call her and relate what I know; if it's worthwhile she'll pass it along to the appropriate investigators, if not she'll let it drop.

After playing phone tag for a couple of hours we finally connect and I give her my information. She thanks me and tells me she's not on the case but she'll pass it along to a detective named Clark, who's in charge of the investigation. If he has any further questions I'll hear from him directly.

My social calendar has started to pick up from the summer slowdown and the fall from grace (so to speak). I have two fundraisers this evening and as I'm getting ready for them I get a call from Detective Clark. I tell him about seeing Hyde at the bar the other night and he takes note of my information, stating that he'll call me if he has any more questions.

Sunday is relatively quiet; I have a workout session and an Isaac session, then spend the afternoon reading. I get another call from Detective Clark.

"Mrs. Lincoln?"

"Yes?"

"This is Detective Clark. Sorry to bother you again but I just have a few more questions."

"Okay, go ahead. What can I help you with?"

"Well, Mrs. Lincoln, I'm just a little confused. You said you were with Christian Grey in a bar last Tuesday night, right?"

"That's correct." Where's he going with this?

"And what exactly were the two of you doing in this bar?"

"We were drinking, detective. It's a very common activity in a bar." He's got me confused now and it's pissing me off.

"I see. Is that all the two of you did?"

"Look, detective, you can drop the Columbo act. If you want to say something, just say it." I really don't have time for this bullshit and my patience is wearing thin.

"Okay, then, Mrs. Lincoln. I've been doing a little checking and I'd like to get some clarification on a few things. What exactly is your relationship with Christian Grey?"

"We're very close friends, Detective. Or at least we were."

"What do you mean by that?"

"That meeting was our last. We mutually agreed to part ways."

"I see. And why did you decide that?"

"Because, Detective, Mrs. Grey does not approve of me and Mr. Grey would like to keep his wife happy."

"I see. I'll come back to that in a minute but first I want to ask you about your ex-husband, Henry Lincoln. It seems he seriously beat you up back in 2004 but you never pressed charges. Why is that?"

What the fuck? My patience has vanished and I'm seriously pissed now.

"Look, what does an incident years ago with my ex-husband have to do with any of this, Detective? Am I under suspicion? Do I need to call my lawyer?"

"Mrs. Lincoln, powerful people have powerful enemies. I'm just trying to connect the dots here. You're not under suspicion but it seems like an awful lot of people didn't approve of your 'friendship' with Christian Grey."

"I don't give a fuck what people do or do not approve of in my relationships. Since you'll probably uncover it anyway, I'll tell you yes, Christian and I had an affair. My husband found out and it broke up our marriage. The affair ended but I maintained a close friendship with Mr. Grey until he met his wife. Anything else?" I am barely keeping it under control.

"Wasn't there an incident at the Grey mansion this past summer?"

Oh, fuck, here we go again. "Yes, Detective. Mr. Grey's mother found out about our affair and suggested I leave. His mother and I had been friends for years and now that friendship is ended, too. Is that it?"

"Just one more thing, Mrs. Lincoln, and then we're done for now. What's your current relationship like with your ex-husband?"

Shit, what does this have to do with anything? "Mr. Lincoln and I have been divorced for about five years. From time to time we see each other socially. I would describe our relationship as cordial."

"I see. Well, I think that does it for now. Thank you for your patience, Mrs. Lincoln. If I have any further questions I'll give you a call."

"I'm sure you will. Goodbye, Detective."

I hang up and get ready to hurl the phone against the wall but manage to stop myself in time.

The workweek starts again with the usual crises facing any small business. I feel like I'm at a decision point in my life. There's no reason for me to stay in Seattle so I'm wondering if I should sell Esclava and move elsewhere, maybe Hawaii. On the other hand, real estate is cheap so if I expand the chain further that would mean more money. For now, though, I continue to concentrate on the daily details.

On Thursday I decide to go in early to my Pike Place Market location. We open there at seven since many of the high-powered female execs who work downtown prefer an early appointment. I get there around 6:15, before anyone else has arrived and sit in my office, going over sales figures and projections. Pretty soon I start hearing activity in the salon as the staff come in and get ready for the day.

While I ponder the data I hear the door to my office open. My employees know better than to enter without knocking so I look up in irritation. Of all people, it's Linc. To say the least, I'm surprised and as I take in his appearance, warning bells start softly in my head.

He's wearing a suit, which is highly unusual for him. Being a big guy he'd always found them uncomfortable, even when they were tailor-made. Besides that, being in the lumber business, he preferred to project the lumberjack image. But here he is in a three-piece, all buttoned down. And he looks like he's put on weight.

"Good morning, Elena."

"Hello, Linc. What brings you here?"

"Why'd you do it, Elena?"

"Why did I do what, Linc?" I have no idea what he's talking about.

"Why did you tell your boytoy to ruin me?"

"Ruin you? I have no idea what you're talking about. I haven't seen Christian in a week and a half. I have no intention of seeing him again. And he's not my boytoy."

"No idea, huh? Isn't it strange that, what, two, three months ago you were talking about us walking the I5 ramps panhandling? And now here I am, without a penny to my name. Thanks to your boytoy. But I don't see you on an I5 ramp, no, you're here in your designer office, wearing your designer clothes."

I interrupt him, "Linc, what happened?"

"What happened? WHAT HAPPENED?" he roars. "That fuckface ruined me, that's what happened. Lincoln Timber was completely taken over by GEH and I'm out of a job. Wanna know why I'm dressed like a fucking organ-grinder monkey? Because for the past day and a half I've been going around, holding out a tin cup to every banker in Seattle, trying to get funding to start another business. But no, your boytoy put out the word that I'm untouchable.

"Why, Elena, why'd you do it?"

"Linc, believe me, I had nothing to do with this." I don't have a clue why Christian would do this. And now I have an ex-husband in my office who looks like he's about to seriously lose it.

"I gave you everything, Elena. I took you away from that shitty job and shitty apartment in Las Vegas. I bought you a mansion, hired servants so you didn't have to lift a finger, gave you charge accounts so you could shop to your heart's content. Why? Why wasn't it enough?"

He looks like he's close to tears; I've never seen him this way and now the alarm bells in my head are getting louder. "Please, let's not go through this again. We've been over and over it so many times. Just leave it alone. Do you want me to talk to Christian?" It's the last thing I want to do but if it'll bring Linc back from the edge I'll do it.

"NO!" he roars again. "I WANT TO KNOW WHY!"

I have to find a way to calm him down. "Linc, I wish I knew," I say quietly. "You were gone so much of the time and I was bored and he came around doing odd jobs and one thing just led to another. I don't even understand how it happened myself."

"Yeah, I was gone a lot. I was gone trying to make money so you could have whatever you wanted. But it was never ENOUGH!" He bangs his fist on my desk.

Then I see a grin emerge on his face and my blood runs cold. I saw that grin in the nightmare I had last summer. He starts unbuttoning his jacket and I think, shit, he's going to rape me in my office. I have an alarm button under my desk and I reach for it. His grin widens.

"Sorry, babe, you're shit outta luck. I disabled your alarm system last night. You can scream but help won't come quick enough."

I look down to see that he's finished unbuttoning his jacket and vest. I realize with disbelief that no, he hasn't put on weight. What appeared to be extra bulk is the array of explosives that he's tied around his waist. He has his hand in his pocket; he must have the detonator there. Is he bluffing? I don't know and I don't want to risk it. Being in the lumber industry he has access to plenty of explosives.

"Linc, please. Let's talk this over. What do you want? Please, tell me." I hate the whiny pleading in my voice but I need to placate him.

"It's too late, Elena. It's over. See you in hell, bitch."

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The Seattle Times

Local News

September 22, 2011 05:15 P.M.

Explosion at Pike Place Market salon

Preliminary investigation shows that this morning's explosion at Esclava, a salon in the Pike Place Market district, was the work of Henry Lincoln, acting alone. Witnesses say that Mr. Lincoln entered the salon around 6:45 this morning, then entered the office of the salon's owner, Elena Lincoln, and apparently detonated explosives he had wired to himself. Mrs. Lincoln was the ex-wife of Mr. Lincoln; both have been confirmed dead. Nearly a dozen injured were taken to area hospitals.

Mr. Lincoln had been president and CEO of Lincoln Timber until recently when it was acquired by Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc. in a hostile takeover. The motive for the explosion is still under investigation.