Reading His Submissive

by Brandi Evans

  He unlocked his phone and scrolled to the picture he’d snapped of Genny at the club the night he’d flogged her. Three days might have passed, but the night was still fresh and vivid in his mind. She’d crashed hard afterward, and she’d looked even more breathtaking because of it. Lying on her stomach, the blanket slung low on her hips, she’d looked entirely at peace, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it had been a true first for her.

  Being at peace.

  With his thumb and forefinger, he zoomed in on her face. He’d had to get onto the floor to capture her at the best angle. The innocence of her expression as her face had pressed into the pillow. The softness of her lips. Eyelids unmoving. Complete stillness. It had taken everything inside him not to wake her, to make love to her again, but she’d needed the sleep, so he’d settled on the picture.

  Until that evening, he’d never struck a woman he’d been in love with. And sure, their actions may have been consensual, but given the fact he did everything within his legal authority to help victims of domestic abuse, the juxtaposition of his employment and his BDSM lifestyle had struck him square between the eyes on his way to work.

  All through the morning, his mind kept drifting back to Genny and the lifestyle. She’d insisted the evening had been fabulous, but she’d been terribly sore for days. He’d made her sore, and he didn’t like it. Making her come until she passed out? Talk about amazing. Making her so sore she flinched when he touched her in the wrong way? Not so much.

  His desk phone rang, startling him out of his contemplation and making him drop his cell. The device hit the edge of his desk and skittered across the hard floor of the precinct. And of course, it came to rest at Maddox’s feet.

  His partner grabbed the phone, and judging by the not-quite-disapproving expression filtering briefly over his features, the picture of Genny was still front and center.

  Of course, it was.

  Acting as if there was ‘nothing to see here’, Carter grabbed his office phone. “Burkes.”

  The banshee tirade of a female voice exploded over the line, and Carter briefly jerked the receiver away from his ear.

  “Detective Burkes, this is Corporal Cunningham. There’s been a, um, complication with the surveillance you assigned me.”

  Fuck.

  After Genny had finally consented and let Carter help with her problem with her mom, he’d asked Corporal Jacob Cunningham to shadow the woman and see if they couldn’t learn something which might help him figure out the best way to approach Genny’s problem. He’d wanted to honor Genny’s desire to keep her mother out of trouble, but given Cunningham’s earlier statement, the screaming banshee in the background had to be none other than Brenda Fucking Malek.

  Christ.

  “What happened?” Carter asked as his partner leaned a haunch on the corner of the desk and sat the cell in front of Carter, screen up, Genny’s face still on display.

  “I set up surveillance across the street like you asked, and this Malek lady…” More feminine wailing cut through and covered whatever Cunningham had been trying to say. “She’s fucking crazy, detective. She came at this kid with a fork, and I had to break surveillance to intervene. And the bitch stabbed me in my goddamn arm. Who does that?”

  Obviously, Brenda Malek.

  “Did something set her off?” Carter asked. He’d given explicit instructions to observe only.

  “You mean besides everything?”

  Carter couldn’t remember being this anxious since—

  He shoved his fingers through his hair. Strike that, he couldn’t remember being this concerned in his life. The mother of the woman he loved was about to be hauled through the precinct doors, and it was his fault. Inadvertently, sure, but he’d set the series of events into action.

  He’d fucked up royally. Beyond royally. And she would never forgive him. Genny had explicitly wanted to keep her mom out of police custody, but it was impossible now. Brenda had attacked a minor and a police officer, and as soon as Cunningham arrived and filed the appropriate paperwork, a CSI unit being sent to Brenda’s apartment was inevitable. And if they found the money Brenda had stolen from her daughter, it would pretty much be game over.

  Carter could see two options playing out. To get her money back, Genny would have to file charges; and if she again chose not to, the money would be confiscated, and neither of them would see it again. There had to be a way out. He needed time to fucking think!

  Maddox stepped in front of Carter and stopped Carter’s pacing. “You’re wearing down the polish on the floor.”

  Carter shouldered his way past his partner. “I doubt there’s been polish on this floor since 1952.” That was the year the building had gone up.

  “True. But you could wear a rut in it, and you know, if that happens, it’ll take until we retire for the repair requisition to go through.”

  Carter knew Maddox was trying to lighten the mood, but it wasn’t working.

  Carter had given his partner little more than a basic rundown of events, and even though the other man was trying to help, everything he said only made Carter feel worse. Would Genny have been better off if Maddox had gotten to her first?

  Before Carter had time to dwell on the question, the precinct doors kicked open, and Cunningham scrambled in, a wailing Brenda Malek at his side. Given the insanity and garbled yelling, Carter suspected the woman was high, drunk, or very likely both.

  God. Brenda looked so much like Genny. The same black hair. The same oval face. The same nose. The same lips. The same eyes. It was like getting a glimpse of Genny from the future, and it only made Carter ache more.

  Cunningham favored his right arm, and judging by the small trickle of blood on the other man’s hand, he hadn’t had time to properly dress his wound. This could be precisely the opening Carter needed.

  “Follow my lead,” Carter said to his partner.

  Maddox gave an almost imperceptible nod and fell into step at Carter’s side.

  Carter went to the younger officer and assisted him, ignoring Brenda’s continued protests. “You should go get that injury looked at,” Carter said. “Maddox and I can take care of her until you get back.”

  “I’d love to take you up on that, but procedure—”

  “At least, run to the bathroom and wash the wound thoroughly,” Maddox supplied. “You don’t know where her fork’s been.”

  Brenda spat right in Cunningham’s face.

  “Fucking bitch!” With the forearm of his free arm, the younger man wiped the wetness away.

  “Go clean up,” Carter insisted. “We’ll keep her right here until you get back.”

  “You’re right.” Cunningham held Brenda’s arm out at a weird angle, nothing meant to cause pain, only to put her on the edge of pain so she wouldn’t struggle as much while they made the handoff.

  Maddox took Brenda’s arm without a word, and Cunningham wiped at his face again.

  “So fucking nasty,” he said under his breath as he handed over a small key, and without another word, he was gone.

  Maddox gave Carter a What-the-actual-fuck-is-this-about glance as they walked Brenda toward their desks.

  Carter responded with the smallest of nods, which annoyed his partner to no end. Sorry, partner. The less you know about what I’m about to do the better. Plausible deniability and all.

  When they reached their desks, Carter forced Brenda onto one of the metal chairs at the end of their pushed-together desks and proceeded to re-cuff her to the chair.

  “While I make our guest a little more comfortable,” Carter said to Maddox, “how about you get her some water. She looks like she could use it. If not to drink, then at least to wash the shit off her face.”

  Seriously, when had she bathed last?

  An almost-imperceptible tightening of Maddox’s lips revealed how little patience he had with Carter’s antics, but in the end, Maddox relented. Oh, he’d expect an explanation later, but later wasn’t now. And right now, Carter could only focus on one c
risis at a time.

  Helping Genny.

  And given what he was about to do wasn’t exactly ethical, it’d be best if there were no witnesses. Just him and Brenda. It’d be a game of he said, she said, and given the she was higher than a kite, he’d take the chance.

  Still kneeling, pretending to fidget with the cuffs, he spoke in a soft, almost menacing voice only Brenda could hear. “Do you know what the prison sentence is for bank fraud?”

  She stared blankly at him. The wheel was turning, but the hamster was high off its rocker.

  “Thirty years,” he continued. “We’re talking federal time too, in a federal prison, not the local jails you’re used to. Then, you tack on the identity theft when you pretended to be your daughter to get her money, and you could be looking at another twenty years on top of that. Do the math, Brenda. I know it’s difficult with your drug-addled brain, but that adds up to nearly the rest of your fucked-up life.”

  Her lower lip trembled; it was the only outward acknowledgment she understood. The look was one he recognized intimately; he’d seen it on her daughter more than once.

  He’d scared the shit out of Brenda. Good. He had her right where he wanted her.

  He would go to Hell for what he was about to do next—that was if he was lucky. At worst, he might be the one to see some jail time, but if his actions helped Genny, then he’d gladly fall on this sword.

  Thanks to Carter, Raven finally understood the phrase, ‘Ridden hard and put up wet’.

  She stretched her arms out over the steering wheel as she waited for the light to turn green. She couldn’t believe she was still sore. Not crazy painful or anything; it was the best sore she’d ever felt.

  She’d been so focused on the mental aspect of being flogged she hadn’t stopped to ponder the physical aspects. She’d never anticipated the day-after pain. Well, technically, three-day-after pain. Carter had assured her the pain wouldn’t always be so intense; like with other physical activities, the muscles needed a chance to adapt.

  Carter had been so amazing after their scene. The tenderness he’d shown her following the act itself still made her chest ache. She’d been entirely out of it, but Sir had kept her cradled against him, warm and safe. And if she were being honest with herself, she’d never felt safer, which made no damn sense considering he’d flogged her to within an inch of her sanity. Would she ever completely understand the depth and complexity of the lifestyle?

  When the light showed a green arrow, she turned left, toward the club. One of the bartenders at Ravenous had called in sick, and the boss had called Raven to see if she’d be interested in taking the shift. She’d said yes, knowing she wouldn’t make the same money she would at Restrained Fantasies, but every little bit helped. Not that it’d matter in the long run; she couldn’t see a way out of this, especially since she’d decided not to take the payment for assisting Carter with the class. She needed the money, yes, but taking money from him felt weird now. And sure, she was technically taking it from the club—but still.

  She’d figure something out. Maybe she would take Carter up on his offer of letting her stay in his houseboat. As much as she liked sharing his bed, they weren’t at the ‘live together’ stage, so she didn’t think putting that kind of stress on a new relationship made sense. So yeah, living in the houseboat for a while might be a good compromise.

  Crash into Me by the Dave Matthews Band suddenly filtered through the speakers, and she instantly smiled. This was Sir’s new personalized ringtone. She’d made the switch a few days ago, after she’d caught him butchering the song in the kitchen, his gray PJ bottoms slung low on his hips.

  She swiped right on the touchscreen and clicked on. “Hello, Sir. How’s—”

  “I need you to listen very carefully, Genny, and do exactly what I say. No questions. Do you understand?”

  The hairs on her neck stood on end, and her spine stiffened. “I understand.”

  “Your mom’s been arrested again.”

  “What!”

  “No questions. You can yell at me later. We don’t have time.” He lowered his voice to an almost imperceptible level. “Go to your mother’s apartment now. Do you know where it is?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Go right this second. I don’t know how long it’ll take for CSI to show up and search the place, but you need to get there first.”

  CSI? Shit. This didn’t sound good at all.

  “Go directly to her bedroom,” he continued, “and move the night table. There’s only the one. Underneath it is a loose board. Pry it up, and you’ll find what’s left of the money she stole from you.”

  “The money?”

  Raven couldn’t believe it. Not even a little bit. Her mom had what? Just told Carter where she’d hid the money? Out of the goodness of her black heart? No. Not in a bajillion years. Her mom would never willingly do something for another person. Something had happened, and judging by the frantic, conspiratorial note in Carter’s voice, this something wasn’t above board.

  Was it something illegal?

  “This doesn’t feel right,” she said. “I don’t want to get you into trouble. I’d rather not get the house than do something that would hurt you.”

  “Please, Genny. Just go. We don’t have time for questions. Go now, and leave everything else to me. And Genny,” he paused, “I love you.”

  “Carter, I—”

  But he was already gone.

  No. No, no, no. He was not doing this to her. He couldn’t drop a shit-ton of bombshells on her and then hang up. Stolen money. Illegal repossession. The L-word. Her heart was about to explode through her chest.

  She called him back, but her call went straight to voicemail, as did her next three calls.

  Carter hurled his cell phone at the brick wall in the alley behind the precinct. The device practically disintegrated with the impact, glass and bits of plastic going everywhere, but he didn’t care. He’d fucking gone and done it now. He was up to his eyeballs in the deepest shit of his life, and he had only himself to blame.

  He didn’t want to think about how many violations he’d committed in the past fifteen minutes, but as he’d stared down the barrel at his upcoming showdown with Genny, he’d snapped. He hadn’t wanted to face her and the accusations she’d hurl at him for getting her mom arrested without having something to offer as tribute, so he’d gotten her money back—some of it anyway—and likely damned himself in the process.

  Life had been much simpler before he’d fallen in love.

  The precinct door opened with a creak and a crunching of rusted metal against concrete. He turned to see his partner stepping into the late morning light, leveling a glare at Carter which could melt the polar ice caps and incinerate entire rainforests in seconds.

  When the door closed, Maddox crossed his arms and ripped into Carter. “Would you like to tell me what the fuck all that was about in there?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Bull. Fucking. Shit. You know goddamn well what I’m talking about. That was Raven’s mom, and you engineered a moment alone with her for a reason. I just can’t figure out what it is yet, although I can guess it has something to do with Raven. And whatever it is, you made me complicit in it, and I will get to the bottom of it.”

  “No, I explicitly made sure you weren’t complicit, and I plan to keep it that way.”

  The tendons in Maddox’s jaw twitched and flexed. “We’ve been friends for almost ten years, and in all that time, you’ve never lied to me. Why start now?”

  Carter had heard of guilt being described as a stabbing pain to the gut, but this was more of a slicing pain cutting through his torso like a madman had injected mini razorblades into his veins. Things had been tense between them lately, but if Carter told Maddox the truth, Carter knew his partner would risk too much to help Genny.

  He and Maddox were in love with the same woman and the woman needed help. And even though an almost indigestible amount of jealousy fi
lled Carter every single time he pictured the two of them together, he cared for his partner’s wellbeing. If push came to shove, he’d be damned if he took Maddox down with him.

  Someone would need to stay out of prison to take care of Genny, not that Genny necessarily needed someone to take care of her. She’d been taking care of herself since she was a child. She was one of the strongest, most self-sufficient, independent women he’d ever met, but if he spent time behind bars, he didn’t want his momentary lapse in professionalism to take him and Maddox away from her.

  “Maddox, please drop it. Trust me, it’s for the best that you don’t know anymore.”

  Maddox’s hands balled into fists as he lowered his arms to his side. “Trust you? Really? You’re gonna throw that at me after the shit you just pulled.”

  Carter dragged both hands through his hair, grabbed onto the locks, and squeezed. “I can’t, Maddox. You’ve got to believe me. It’s for the best. The less you know—”

  With another squeak and grind, the door opened, and Sergeant Angela Hendricks stuck her head out. “Burkes, Westbrook, the Captain needs to see you in his office. Said it’s urgent.”

  Fuck.

  This couldn’t be good.

  He and Maddox exchanged glances.

  And so, the end begins.

  Carter figured he’d have more time to prepare.

  Carter had been in the captain’s office dozens of times, but he’d never experienced locust-gnawing-on-his-stomach-lining nausea until now. He hated thinking of the tells he was giving off. Nervousness, excess sweating, fidgeting, he was pretty sure he was displaying them all. Surefire signs of a guilty conscience.

  Nodding to whoever was on the other end of the phone line, the captain motioned them into the two black chairs opposite his desk.

  To calm his racing nerves, Carter focused on the mundane details of his surroundings and, like he would do if he were at a crime scene, he committed every aspect to memory. A pale gray paint covered cinderblock walls, minimalistic décor. Behind him were awards and certificates of accomplishments. Bachelor’s degree, master’s degree, graduation certificate from the Tri-City Police Academy, newspaper clippings in keepsake frames.