“Look, it’s not just because you’re female, okay?” He muttered a frustrated curse and looked away. For a moment he stared out the windshield, visibly wrestling with his temper. “Right before I left the Navy, my team was hunting an ISIS terrorist. Bastard named Asad Abd al Jabbar, who had the charming habit of sending truck bombs into girls’ schools.”
Alex frowned, taken off-guard by the sudden topic change. “Sounds like he needed killing.”
“Actually, we were trying to capture him, and we did. But his buddies wanted him back bad, and we found ourselves having to fight our way out. My friend Randy Carson took a round in the abdomen—tore him all to hell. I put pressure on it, but he bled out before the helo got to us. I watched him die, and there wasn’t a single fucking thing I could do about it.”
Pain rang in his voice, the echo of old grief. Alex felt her eyes sting in sympathy. “He sounded like a good friend.” Like Ted.
“Yeah. The best. A hell of a man. We went to BUD/S together—we got each other through Hell Week.” BUD/S was the legendary Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training course that graduated only a fraction of its recruits. Hell Week was a big reason why, as recruits were forced to endure the worst their SEAL instructors could throw at them. “Randy saved my life twice, once in Iraq, again in Pakistan, but I couldn’t save his.” He looked at her. “One minute he was kicking ass, the next he was dying. I don’t want to watch you die, Alex. After what happened to Ted, I’m sure you understand. Yeah, we’re cops. Risk is part of the job. But you shouldn’t make the risk greater by taking chances.”
She sighed, feeling her anger drain away. This wasn’t the kind of infuriating sexism she’d fought her whole life; he was expressing genuine concern. And after what she’d gone through finding Ted’s body, she didn’t want him dealing with the same futile guilt if she screwed up and got herself killed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Frank nodded. “Do that.” He straightened his broad shoulders. “I’d better go patrol.”
She watched as he got out of the car, slid into his own, and drove away.
* * *
“Trouble in paradise,” Bruce murmured. “Bet that stung, huh, Alex? Now you know how it feels.”
He had bugged Alex’s car after Gary had told him what she and Ted had done to him. He’d hoped the son of a bitch was lying. Instead, Arlington and Alex had condemned themselves.
Alex was every bit as perverted as her idol. She, Ted, and Cal went to disgusting sex parties every time they got the chance.
God, he ached to take a whip to Alex’s tight little ass. Fantasized about making her scream—and not with pleasure. He ached to make her pay. Make her parents pay.
One day soon he’d get his chance.
As for Arlington, he’d been a blot on the badge. Which was why Bruce had taken it away. Now that same badge leaned against his father’s photo. Dad would have been delighted. He’d hated cops almost as much as he did Blacks, Mexicans, and Jews.
Bruce would take Alex out next. That would really stick it to the Coach, wouldn’t it? Fit revenge.
Her badge would join Ted’s, and her parents would suffer as they deserved.
* * *
Alex returned to the plant garage after the last patrol of the night. The bruises from her fight with Donny were making themselves felt. She was trying to decide whether she’d rather have a couple of Advil or a glass of wine after she got home when Frank knocked on her window again.
Given their last conversation, she felt more than a little wary as she unlocked the door and watched him slide into the passenger seat.
He stared out across the car’s hood at the darkened loading dock. “I’ve been thinking about our little discussion . . .”
Alex snorted. “Don’t you mean knock-down-drag-out fight?”
Frank smiled slightly. “Yeah, okay. Fight. I was out of line. I wasn’t there when you rolled up—I don’t know what you heard. If I’d thought a woman and children were being hurt, I wouldn’t have waited for backup either. And you’re right—if Bruce had done the same thing, I wouldn’t have chewed him out for it. For one thing, I’m the junior partner on this team. You’ve got five years’ more experience being a cop than I do, regardless of the decade I spent hunting Taliban tangos.”
“But you’re also my Dom, and you’ve got a protective streak wider than your killer shoulders.”
He grinned at that, suddenly boyish. “Yeah, I am your Dom, and I am protective. Maybe even overprotective. Goes with the territory.” Cool gray eyes took on a dark male glitter. “And I reserve the right to punish you suitably for scaring the shit out of me.”
Heat rushed through Alex like a sudden spring flood. “What have you got in mind?”
He smiled, a slow revelation of white teeth. “You like to hunt?”
Not precisely. She’d never enjoyed shooting animals. But hunting was a sort of male bonding ritual. For her fellow deputies, it was an excuse to get together somewhere other than work, drink beer, and participate in an activity where you didn’t have to talk—involving guns. In other words, the perfect cop sport.
So Alex hunted, though she did so these days more for the chance to hone her skill at hitting a moving target. Judging by that grin, though, she suspected Frank had something else in mind. “Yeah, I hunt, but it’s not deer season.”
“Actually, I didn’t plan on you being the one doing the hunting.”
“I have no desire to play Bambi’s mother.”
“There’ll be no weapons involved, of course. Just you, me, and the woods in back of my house. And possibly a whip or two.”
That’s what she’d thought—which was why heat had gathered in a tight ball between her thighs. “In that case,” she drawled, unable to resist the shameless deer pun, “I am feeling a little horny.”
* * *
When Alex got off shift, she went home to take a shower and dress. Remembering Polly Royce’s comment about the video, she gave Cal a call.
“Did you see the news?” her friend asked before she even had time to say hello. He sounded tense.
“Uh, no, but I did hear they ran some kind of YouTube thing of you and Ted sceneing.” She frowned. “And how the hell did they put a sex tape on the evening news?”
“We were actually dressed, thank God. It cut out before we got around to the sex part.” He sighed. “But what they did run was bad enough. I had to delete my Facebook and Twitter accounts. The shit people were saying about Ted . . .” His voice broke. “God, Alex . . . None of those fuckers knew him, but they were all saying he had it coming. Even the people who aren’t bigots keep asking how I could let a white man beat me like that. My sister thinks I’m going to hell.”
Alarmed, Alex demanded, “Is that the sister you’re staying with? Do you need to come stay with me for a while?”
“No, Jaz doesn’t really get the BDSM thing, but she’s okay with whatever makes me happy. At least, that’s what she said after I convinced her Ted never hurt me.” He made a low sound of pain in his throat. “No, the one who’s freaking is my older sister, Laticia. She said she’s not sure she wants me coming around my nephews anymore.”
Rage tightened Alex’s hands into fists. “That . . . bitch!”
“Well, vanilla people just don’t understand kink, Alex. And anything they don’t understand . . .”
“But implying you might be some kind of fucking pedophile . . .”
“Yeah.” His voice dropped, went soft. “That hurt.”
“Look, you want to go have lunch later, or . . .”
“No. Not today. Maybe . . . maybe later. I’ve got an interview scheduled with Cassie York. You know, the Courier blogger? I want to tell my side of it.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I like Cassie, but she is a reporter . . .”
“And Ted hated reporters. I know.” His chuckle sounded like there were tears in it. “But she’s fair, and she swears she’s not going to use me as her ticket to her fifteen minutes of fame.” His v
oice dropped and went bitter. “Or in my case, infamy.”
If anyone could understand Ted and Cal’s relationship, it would be Cassie. Her friend had mentioned attending the bondage club in Charlotte a couple of times. Even so, Alex had kept her mouth shut about her own kinky streak. She and Cassie might be friends, but with media types, you never knew what bombs they might throw. “Tell her if she’s not good to you, I’ll beat her up.”
Cal laughed. “And you would, too. Are you going to the visitation on Friday?” It would be an opportunity for friends and family to view Ted’s body at the funeral home and pay their respects to his family.
“I’m going to the funeral, but I was planning to attend the visitation, too. Will you be there?”
“Yeah. Ted’s mother asked me to sit with her. I’m still trying to make up my mind.” Ted had been Out to his widowed mother, who’d often invited Cal and Alex to Sunday dinner. That, however, was very different from sitting in the midst of Ted’s family as though Cal were his spouse. His young, black spouse.
Alex winced. “Yeah, that would be a lot like waving the proverbial red flag in front of the bull.”
“More like a rainbow flag.” She could hear the ghost of humor in his voice. “What do you think I should do?”
She hesitated. “That kind of depends. You think you’re up to dealing with the blowback?”
“To be honest, I don’t know. On the one hand, I feel as if not sitting with her implies I’m ashamed of loving him—which I’m damned well not. On the other hand, people can get really fucking vicious to folks who don’t follow the script of what they consider normal. And I’m feeling more than a little fragile just now.” His voice cracked, as if he was about to cry again.
“Of course you are. You need to do what’s best for you, Cal. I know if Ted were here, that’s what he’d tell you to do.”
“That does sound like him.” He was definitely crying now, his voice hoarse and breaking.
“Whatever you decide, I’ll be there for you. You won’t be alone. People really thought a lot of Ted . . .”
“They did before last night. Maybe not so much if they saw that damned YouTube thing.”
“I swear to God, if I ever found out who shot that, I’m going to knock their teeth in.”
There was a pause before Cal spoke again. “Alex, something’s bothering me about that.”
“Yeah?”
“It was shot in Ted’s bedroom, but neither of us had anything to do with it. Another thing—the angle’s from really high, like around the ceiling over by the door. Almost like surveillance video, but Ted didn’t have a surveillance system.”
A chill stole over Alex’s skin. “So who shot it, and who the hell posted it?”
Cal asked the question she was thinking. “Could it have been the killer?”
“I don’t know, but I think I’ll have a long talk with Detective Tracy.”
“He called last night after the segment ran. Asked if we shot it.”
“Did he believe you when you said you hadn’t?”
“I don’t know. He’s pretty hard to read.”
“Well, he’s a violent crimes detective. They have to have pretty good poker faces. I think I’ll ask him if he searched Ted’s house for that camera. Don’t know if he’ll tell me anything, but I’ll ask.”
“Thanks, Alex. The idea that his killer might have planted some kind of hidden camera in Ted’s bedroom . . . That’s just . . .”
“Terrifying.”
“Yeah.” His voice sounded thick with tears.
“Cal, if there’s anything I can do . . . If you need anything, need a place to stay, anything . . . All you have to do is ask.”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary, doll, but I appreciate it.”
“I mean it, don’t hesitate. There’s nothing I can do for Ted now—except help you. I want to be able to do something.” She felt her eyes sting with a sudden burst of frustration and rage. “I didn’t catch that bastard, Cal. I can’t catch him now—I’m not a detective. I can’t access the evidence, I can’t talk to witnesses, I can’t do shit. If I can help you in any way, at least I won’t feel so fuckin’ useless.”
“You’re not useless, Alex. Ted loves . . . loved you. He thought you were one hell of a cop. And from everything I’ve heard, everything I’ve seen, he had good reason to think so.”
“Thank you, Cal.” She dashed tears off her face. “That means a lot.”
“And listen, I will call you if there’s anything you can do.” He sighed. “Just knowing I’ve got one good friend in this town helps more than I can say.”
“Not just one, babe. But stay the hell off the Internet, would you? It doesn’t do you any good to read that crap. Who cares what those idiots think anyway?”
“Good point.” But there was pain in his voice, and she knew that whatever ignorant comments he’d read had hurt.
“Love you, babe.”
Now she heard the shadow of a smile in his voice. “Love you, too, PoPo.”
They said good-bye and hung up.
Alex sat there a moment, feeling battered by grief—both her own and Cal’s. She needed to see that damned video.
But . . . She thought of Frank and his dark, seductive smile. She found herself craving the distraction he offered. She knew the video would only exacerbate her grief and rage, making it impossible to enjoy the escape she’d find in Frank’s arms. There would be time enough later to wallow in that helpless, futile pain.
For now, she wanted Frank. Needed Frank.
* * *
Alex arrived at Frank’s house an hour later, showered and dressed in pants and tee in hunting camouflage.
Good thing it was still relatively warm in the Upstate this time of year, or naked fun time would be right out.
When she knocked, she heard his deep voice from inside the house. “Come on in.”
Entering, she stopped dead and blinked. He leaned against the foyer wall, six and a half feet of muscle in combat boots, jungle cami pants, and a T-shirt in the same pattern. But what drew her up short was the green, black, and brown paint that covered his face in irregular, asymmetrical splotches, giving him the savage look of some kind of twenty-first-century barbarian. His gray eyes gleamed in the midst of that paint, lupine and hungry.
“Hi,” he purred, the Big Bad Wolf to Little Red Riding Hood.
Something about the look on his face made everything below her waist clench in primitive need. “Hi.” Her voice sounded embarrassingly throaty. “Interesting”—she had to stop and swallow—“costume.”
“I thought you’d like it.” He took a long, lazy pace toward her. Something about the way he looked at her made her feel stalked. “What’re your safewords?”
“Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for ‘Oh God, harder.’”
“Heh. Cute. You can defend yourself this time—if you can. Blows at half strength, like in combat practice. Once I get you pinned, you’re mine. Any objections?”
She licked dry lips. “No.”
“Any injuries I need to know about?”
“A couple of bruises from playing rodeo clown to Donny Royce’s bull, but nothing that would keep us from sceneing.”
“You sure about that?” He looked her over, gray eyes flicking over her in their mask of war paint. “If I hurt you because you’re lying about a strained muscle, I’m going to be one pissed-off Dom.”
“Nothing like that.”
Frank paused a long moment, eyeing her before he finally nodded. “All right.” Turning, he led the way through the cool dimness of the house and out the glass French doors into the bright morning sunlight. “You’ve got a ten-minute head start.” He showed her his teeth, flashing against the jungle paint. “I’m going to be seriously disappointed if you don’t give me a good chase.”
She gave him a deliberately cheeky grin in return. “Oh, I’ll give you a chase, Frank. Hell, you could find yourself the one hog-tied.”
He laughed, the soun
d of it more than a little sinister. “Better run now, little girl. Before I get pissed off.”
She ran.
CHAPTER TEN
Frank watched her bound off like a startled deer, all flashing legs and lithe grace. Her ass was a thing of beauty working behind the fabric of her pants. He was hard as a hammer, his cock bulging rebelliously against the tyranny of his fly.
Damn, she got to him. Common sense and caution didn’t stand a chance against his desire. Never mind that he’d had her just yesterday—and explored some of his favorite fantasies in the process. He craved her just as recklessly now.
Some of it was the kind of games they played, so different from the usual tie-her-up-and-beat-her-ass scenarios he’d done with previous subs. Not that he didn’t love watching Alex’s lovely rump turn pink under his flogger, but somehow the mock fights were so much kinkier.
Frank bided his time with considerable difficulty, forcing himself to give her the head start he’d promised. He’d always been the master of his body, despite its sometimes violent clamor for rest, or water, or food. Or sex. He ruled it, not the other way around. Kept his focus on his mission, ignoring any animal demands like the growl currently coming from his balls.
When he judged the promised time had passed, Frank moved after her, giving her plenty of time to build the lead he’d permitted her.
He wanted to work for this.
Frank trailed Alex for as long as he could tolerate the delay, until he decided they’d both had enough. Listening with a warrior’s keen attention, he heard her moving ahead, a faint rustling in the underbrush, her booted step crunching the autumn leaves. Pines filled the air with the smell of resin and green needles. He imagined that scent overlaid by the musk of woman and sex, and his cock jerked.
Lengthening his stride, he bit into her lead, hungry to put his hands on her. Hungry to take her here in the woods as birds chirped and the wind sighed in the bright trees, sending maple leaves swirling down around them. Hungry to taste her skin, to feel it silken soft under his hands, to feel that surprisingly strong, athletic body of hers straining against his. She’d fight him, green eyes bright and a little bloodthirsty, red hair flying. Everything he wanted, everything his body craved, female to his male.
Without Restraint Page 14
