White Collared Part Three: Revenge

by Shelly Bell

  “Yeah. But Kate? She almost died because she wanted to speak with you. Don’t you think you could at least listen to what she’s got to say?”

  Could she? Last night she’d felt guilty for indirectly leading Hannah to her apartment. “Honestly, I—” Her cell buzzed in her pocket.

  “Go on. Take it.” Tom gave her a sad smile and then returned to Hannah’s bedside.

  She pulled out the phone on her way to the elevator. “Hello?”

  “Kate Martin?”

  The caller was male, but she didn’t recognize the voice. Her pulse skyrocketed. “Yes, who’s this?”

  “Master Cole gave me your number. He said you were looking for a session with me.”

  Anthony Rinaldi.

  “Yes, that’s right, sir.”

  “You are a virgin, yes?”

  “A virgin? I’m afraid if you’re looking for that, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

  “I meant to electrical play. I’ve grown bored with my usual girls. Cole said you’d be perfect for me, and if he says you’re perfect, I believe him. Come tonight. Ten o’clock in the dungeon. You won’t be disappointed.”

  The call disconnected and a shiver ran down her arms, the mafia boss’s taunting promise laid out for her like Pandora’s Box with a big, shiny, red bow.

  She didn’t worry that she’d be disappointed.

  She worried about the ramifications of her opening that damned box.

  Chapter Eight

  SHE WALKED OUT of the hospital and was not surprised to see a light dusting of snow coating the ground. That was southeastern Michigan in the fall. It could go from seventy degrees one day to below freezing the next. Of course, it beat the extreme cold and piles of snow they’d have right now in the Upper Peninsula.

  She turned off the main roads and onto one of the side streets of the city. As usual, it was empty of both cars and of people. There were no businesses except for the occasional liquor store. Otherwise the buildings were abandoned, stripped of anything valuable, from the fixtures to the copper wiring. Still, this was her city and the place she called home.

  As she turned down a street of half-burnt houses, her thoughts strayed to Tom. After spending two years with him, she would’ve expected to feel his loss, but they never really had a connection. It was comfortable and easy. Nothing like the passion that blazed with Jaxon. Nothing like she’d experienced last night when she’d crumbled in his arms and cried tears she’d thought long dried.

  He’d been right. She’d trusted him with her body and even her life, but it had been so much harder to trust him with her secrets. And now that she had, she’d panicked and run away again. How many chances would he give her before giving up on her?

  She didn’t want to push him away, but there were pieces of herself she’d never be able to relinquish, even to Jaxon. He didn’t understand why she needed space today or how much she had to prove. While she acknowledged being a sexual submissive, there was no way she’d ever let it translate into any other area of her life. There was a difference between him trying to protect her and being overprotective.

  Would Jaxon be waiting for her at her apartment? Last night had been . . . intense. She didn’t regret it, but she didn’t know how to deal with him knowing her secrets.

  A dark car pulled off the curb and into her lane, almost sideswiping her, and her breath caught in her chest as she veered to the left to avoid an accident.

  What an asshole.

  She hit the gas to put some space between her and the car. The car picked up speed and tailed her dangerously close.

  Her pulse took off like a dog chasing a rabbit, and a sense of foreboding sat heavy in her gut. She gunned the gas and glanced in her mirror at her pursuer. She could make out only the shadow of the driver, but there was no mistaking that the car was a BMW.

  Was it possible it was the same one from outside Mrs. Webber’s house?

  He was gaining on her.

  She hit an icy patch of road, losing control of her bike. Gripping the handlebars, she swerved into the other lane and into the path of an oncoming Jeep. With no other choice and seconds to spare, she jumped the curb and hit the brakes, stopping only inches from the wall of an old brick office building.

  She jumped off the bike and quickly pulled out the gun from her purse. Her hands shook as she aimed in front of her. The Jeep had parked by the side of the road, but she didn’t see any sign of the BMW.

  Sunlight reflected off her mirror and blinded her. She heard the slam of a car door and then the steps of someone walking toward her.

  The figure approached, blocking the sun. Rachel Dawson’s face came into view.

  Kate kept the gun trained on her. She didn’t trust the nosy reporter.

  Rachel frowned as she eyed the gun but held out her hand anyway. “Are you hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

  As much as it burned Kate to take help from the woman, she accepted her offer to help her to her feet and then removed her helmet. “I’m good. Mind telling me what you’re doing here?”

  Rachel swallowed. “As soon as you lower the gun, I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

  Kate dropped it to her side. “I take it your being here is not a coincidence?”

  Rachel shrugged. “I waited for you outside your apartment. Saw Jaxon bring you home this morning and then I followed you to the hospital. Sorry about your friend.”

  The reporter spoke matter-of-factly with no real emotion behind her condolences.

  Kate scanned the street. “Why were you coming from the other direction?”

  “The BMW also tailed you from the hospital. I was curious, and so I stayed with him until he parked. Then I thought maybe I was wrong and turned around. Good thing too, don’t you think?”

  Rachel’s explanation made sense, but Kate still didn’t trust her. “Did you get the license plate?”

  “The plate was so muddy, I couldn’t make it out. Which I found odd since the car was perfectly clean.”

  Had Rachel collaborated with the driver of the BMW? This could be a plot to get Kate comfortable so she’d lower her guard and spill all the juicy details about Jaxon’s case. But it would’ve been one hell of a risk for Rachel to take. Suppose Kate had gotten hurt?

  Somehow Kate got the impression that Rachel was being sincere. Well, at least as sincere as a member of the press could get.

  Kate stuck her gun back into her purse and slipped the strap over her shoulder.

  A rusty nail was stuck into the front tire of her bike. She sighed and wiped her hair off her face. It could’ve been worse, but the tire alone would mean thirty-nine-cent mac and cheese for dinner for the next month.

  Rachel waved her manicured hand. “Leave the bike here. I’ll take you home.”

  Abandon her baby on the streets of Detroit? What if someone stole it? But it wasn’t as if she could afford a tow. She needed help getting it back to her apartment.

  Taking a chance, she tried the front door of the building, not surprised to find it locked. She wandered to the side and found another door. Bingo.

  “Hey, Rachel. Do you have a couple bobby pins?”

  “Of course,” Rachel said, rounding the corner of the building. “But why? It’s not as if you ever cared about what your hair looked like before.” She pulled a couple from her own head and handed them to Kate.

  “Unlike you, I don’t have to rely on my looks to get ahead,” she shot back, oddly enjoying bantering with the woman. She stuck the two pins in the lock of the doorknob and jiggled it.

  “That’s good since you have the perfect face for radio,” Rachel quipped, standing over Kate and watching her manipulate the lock.

  She laughed. The woman had a wicked streak, but it didn’t bother Kate. She actually admired the reporter for it. At least she was honest.

  When she heard the click, she turned the knob, opening the door to the old, vacant office building.

  Rachel put her hands on her hips. “You learn that in the Uppe
r Peninsula?”

  Kate’s heart danced into triple time.

  And that’s when she realized the mention of her past had scared her more than the attempt on her life. What was wrong with her? Her father wouldn’t want her living in fear. Why was she giving so much power to the past?

  Not wanting to give the reporter the satisfaction of knowing she’d gotten such a strong reaction from her, she schooled her face to indifference. “How much do you know about me?”

  “You’ve covered your tracks pretty well, but your juvenile prints are still buried somewhere in the system. They matched the ones you submitted for your internship. Then of course you enrolled in undergrad with your previous name since you didn’t change it legally until you turned eighteen three weeks into the semester.”

  Impressive and just a tad disturbing. “And how did you access my juvenile prints?”

  Rachel smiled. “I know a guy. It’s amazing what a pair of tits and a blowjob will get you these days.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Not the information I was asking for.”

  “Sorry. I’m not good at girl talk.”

  “This isn’t girl talk.” Kate traipsed to her bike and pushed it around to the side of the building, Rachel following her.

  “See? I didn’t even know enough to know that.”

  Kate brought her Harley inside the building and relocked the door. “Why were you looking me up?”

  “Doing my homework. What’s so special about an intern that she gets to work such a big murder case? Kate Martin, born Katerina Martini, the only child to Marissa and Henry Martini, changed her name the day she turned eighteen, perfect grade point average in undergrad, winner of the National Criminal Law Trial Advocacy Competition, suspected of having genius IQ but refused testing, killed her father in an accidental shooting. Shall I continue?”

  Kate shook her head, amazed by the reporter’s knowledge. If it was that easy to access her past, who else had learned it? “No. I know my life story, thanks. What are you going to do with all the information?”

  “That depends.” Rachel smirked and started for her Jeep.

  Kate caught up to her. “On . . .?”

  “On what you’re willing to give me.”

  “Well, I’m not going to show you my tits if that’s what you’re asking,” Kate said as she slid in the passenger side of the truck.

  Rachel stuck the key in the ignition and laughed. “I’m sure they’re spectacular, but that’s not what I’m after. I want an exclusive.”

  Kate sighed. “Of course you do. So this is blackmail? You’ll go public with my childhood tragedy unless I give you information on the case?”

  “Despite what you think, I’m not heartless. Besides, ruining your career would do nothing for mine.” Rachel put the car into drive and headed toward Kate’s apartment. “I have information about your client. Information the police will use to arrest him tomorrow.”

  “And you got that information how?”

  “I know another guy.”

  “Of course. And in return . . .?”

  Rachel slid a glance at her. “I want an interview with Deveroux. Obviously, Trenton can sit in and restrict your client from saying anything against his interest.”

  “I can’t speak for Mr. Trenton.”

  “Oh, I don’t believe that for a minute. You’ve got both those men wrapped tight around your finger. You may not do it intentionally, but you use your sexuality as much as I do to get ahead.”

  A protest formed on her tongue, but she snapped her mouth shut. Was Rachel right?

  “So, do we have a deal?” Rachel asked.

  It might come back to bite her in the ass, but she didn’t think she had a choice. Hopefully, Nick would feel the same way. “Yeah. Deal.”

  Rachel tossed her a card from the center console. “Fabulous. Give your boss my cell number. When he and I come to an agreement on the time and place of the interview, I’ll give him everything I have about the prosecutor’s star witness.”

  Kate huffed out a breath. “You didn’t need me at all for this deal.”

  As the Jeep idled in front of Kate’s apartment building, Rachel’s brows furrowed and a small crease formed above her nose. “Of course I did. Nick never would’ve agreed to it, but he’s got too much class to back out of a deal you made.” Her frown deepened. “Don’t let your hormones get the best of you.”

  Kate released her seatbelt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “If you say so. You’re young, so I’ll give you some advice. Trust no one. That way when they fuck you over, you won’t be surprised.”

  Kate slid out of the Jeep. “What about you? Can I trust you?”

  “Especially not me.” Rachel gave her the smile of someone who’d gotten everything she’d wanted. “Have Trenton call me soon before the deal becomes obsolete.”

  Watching Rachel drive down the street, a prickling sensation snaked around her chest.

  Kate suspected she hadn’t just made a deal with the devil’s mistress; she’d made one with the devil.

  With the gun in her hand, she thoroughly checked every spot of her apartment for hidden intruders, and after confirming she was alone, she dialed Nick to tell him about her conversation with Rachel.

  “Where did you two have this conversation?”

  She started up the shower, eager to wash the slime of the deal from her skin. “I kind of had an accident on my way back from the hospital.”

  “An accident?”

  She heard the doubt in his tone, and although he was miles away, she felt the burn of his stare. “More like a car tried to run me down, and I jumped a curb.”

  “What the hell? Why were you on your bike? Where was Jaxon?”

  “I went alone. I needed some time to think, and I had the gun with me. It didn’t occur—”

  “No. It didn’t occur to you to follow my directions, and we’ll talk about that more at the office. If it weren’t already too late, I’d fire your ass. I don’t know why you have a death wish, but if I have to tie you up to do it, I’ll make sure you’re protected. You stay with either Jaxon or me until we nail this son of a bitch or I swear to you, I will terminate your internship. Do you understand?”

  She swallowed down the shame from disappointing him. “Yes, sir.”

  He exhaled. “Good. I don’t like you making deals on my behalf, but I understand the importance in this case. I’ll call Rachel Dawson. And don’t tell Jaxon. I don’t want him worrying about it if it turns out to be nothing.”

  They hung up, and, after a quick shower, she got dressed. Nick hadn’t gotten mad because she’d negotiated the deal with Rachel, but he’d almost blown a gasket over her failure to follow his directions. As someone who’d spent ten years without answering to anyone in her personal life, she didn’t know how to handle her two dominant men.

  And there was no question Nick was dominant. It wasn’t what he said, but how he said it, and how she reacted to it.

  She stuffed clothes for tonight into her duffel bag. She shouldn’t be thinking of Nick that way anymore. Not when she had Jaxon in her life.

  A knock on her door alerted her to Jaxon’s arrival. She zipped up her duffel, threw it over her shoulder, and prepared herself for his wrath. As soon as she opened the door, he stormed in, slamming the door behind him. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were darker than the midnight sky in the middle of winter.

  She dropped the duffel on the ground. “Guess you spoke with Nick.”

  “I should’ve heard it from you not your . . . boss,” he spit out with contempt. “I should’ve never permitted you to go by yourself. What kind of man lets his woman go off alone with a murderer on the loose?”

  “You’re not mad at me?”

  “No.” He tugged her against his chest and tipped up her chin. “I’m disappointed you didn’t call me when someone ran you off the fucking road and that I had to learn about it from my pissed-off friend. He blamed it on me, and he was absolutely right.”
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  “But I’m the one who convinced you I needed time to think.”

  “Because I knew better.” He pounded his chest with a fist. “It’s my job as your Dom to take care of you. I failed you like I failed Alyssa. And I can’t go through that again.” He released her from his hold and moved back, leaving her cold. “I respect your need to stay independent, but it’s not enough for me. I’m not one of those Doms who can switch it on and off or keep it limited to the bedroom.” He raked his fingers through his black hair and squeezed his eyes shut. “I thought for a brief moment that I could change. For you.” When his eyes opened, they were glassy. “I can’t.”

  She pressed her hand to her neck, needing the pain to ground her, but the bruise had healed. “I don’t understand what it is you want from me.”

  “I want the power to punish you when you’ve disobeyed me and to reward you for your obedience. I want what I didn’t have with my wife. Your total submission.”

  Her heart stuttered, and a rush of heat flooded her lower belly, making her pussy quiver and her clit swell. She tried to control her breathing, but she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs, as if the thought of punishment and rewards had taken root and grown inside her, leaving room for nothing else.

  She was a feminist. Believed in equality between the genders. When she’d dreamed about the future, she’d seen herself as a high-powered, white-collared professional, an attorney with the respect of her peers. Had a lover ever factored into her fantasies? Of course. But as hot as Jaxon’s statement had made her, never had she dreamed of answering to her lover for her actions. She hadn’t even wanted to get married, so how could she give away the amount of control Jaxon needed?

  Now that she’d finally cried, the waterworks flowed more easily, and tears stung her eyes. “I don’t know if I can give you that.”

  His gaze zeroed in on her tears, and he stepped forward, giving her the hope that he’d hold her and tell her he didn’t need anything more than what she could give. Then he stopped, and without him saying the words, she knew she’d lost him. “And I can’t live without it. Not anymore.”