Strictly Yours: Hooded Pleasures, Book 3

by Sheryl Nantus

  Busted.

  Nathan lowered his voice to a whisper. “Danielle.”

  The single word shocked the lawyer into silence. He placed his tablet facedown on the nearby table. His expression didn’t change.

  “Who?” The smooth response didn’t surprise Nathan. He was sure Charles Litten had plenty of experience keeping his emotions hidden.

  The man would be a lethal poker player.

  “You and I have a mutual friend. Danielle.” Nathan chose each word carefully, aware of the minefield he was walking through. “She’s worried about you.”

  Charles smiled. “I have plenty of friends who are worried about me. I expect when I get back to my office, there’ll be plenty of get-well cards.”

  “I expect so.” Nathan strolled around the bed to look out the window into the night sky. “She asked me to drop by and visit. She knows you’re not interested in seeing her anymore but wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  He felt the lawyer’s eyes burning a hole in his back and knew what he was thinking.

  Because Nathan was thinking the same thing.

  Him? A submissive?

  Danielle’s?

  It was impossible for him to imagine the feisty lawyer on his knees submitting to her, yet—

  Charles spoke first, breaking the détente. “I’m pleased she’s concerned, but I’m fine.” He cleared his throat. “Tell her I’ll always think of her fondly.”

  Nathan studied the skyscrapers cutting through the sunlight. Silhouettes shot across the windows, a thousand ghosts racing around in a silent dance.

  “You recently decided to stop seeing her.”

  He didn’t phrase it as a question.

  “Yes.” Charles swallowed loudly. “It was my decision.”

  Nathan didn’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to hear the stress in the man’s voice. Charles Litten might be one hell of a poker player, but there were some things, some emotions you couldn’t keep under wraps.

  “It’s always our decision.” Nathan turned to look at Charles. “We’re the ones in control.” He raised an eyebrow. “Except when it’s taken from us.”

  Nathan hated this.

  He’d seen enough of this in court.

  Talking in circles was something lawyers loved to do, twisting words to mean whatever they wanted them to mean and what they needed them to mean to win their case.

  He was a street cop who wanted to hear straight talk.

  Charles pressed his lips into a tight line before speaking. “If it wasn’t my choice, then it was because I had a good reason.” He lifted his good hand to brush against his bandaged nose. “I am a man who listens to a good argument. I was convinced by the strength of his—” He paused long enough to get the message across. “His words.”

  You were threatened.

  Nathan itched to say it out loud but knew that would get him nowhere. He could appreciate the need for tact, but there was nothing like plain talk.

  “This discussion. Did it mention her by name?”

  “No. It was rather one-sided but presented in a rather forceful manner. It suggested I stop seeing, and I quote, ‘that blonde bitch’. He didn’t elaborate on anything else. As I said before—my workload doesn’t include angry divorces or anything that would engender such anger so I can’t see how it was business-related.” He pulled on the sheets. “I’m not dating anyone right now and haven’t been for over a year, so it was pretty easy to figure out who he was talking about.” His good hand brushed the bruised and swollen eye. “I didn’t ask how much he knew about Danielle, and he didn’t elaborate other than by hitting me.”

  “So you made the phone call.”

  “Yes.” Charles shook his head. “You might think I’m a coward, but I can’t take the chance. I can’t take the risk he knew what—who I was.”

  Nathan knew exactly what he was talking about. He might be afraid of the other cops finding out he was a submissive but it had to be nothing compared to the terror Charles had worrying about the public and the other lawyers at his firm.

  Nathan could hide in the blue uniform, blend in with the other police. There was no way to call him out while he was at work.

  Charles would be a walking target for any and all types of discrimination. He made his money by his name, his expertise.

  That would be gone in an instant.

  The jokes, the harassment—he’d be finished as a lawyer.

  “Do you plan to call the company owners? Let them know someone may be targeting her or others like you?” Nathan hated the word dance but knew there was no way he could say Hooded Pleasures out loud.

  “I thought about it.” Charles plucked at the sheets. “But I don’t know if it’d be a good idea or not.” Charles gestured at the paper-thin walls. “He knew about me, knew about her, about us. Something that wasn’t supposed to happen.” His eyes narrowed. “He could be a disgruntled employee. Think about that for a second. Someone on the inside.”

  Nathan jerked back in shock as he followed Charles’s logic.

  Holy—

  He hadn’t considered HP might be a part of this.

  Someone with access to the files could build up an impressive blackmail list of clients, not to mention going after the employees who might not want their families and friends to know what they did in their spare time.

  “Now you know why I haven’t done anything more than what I was told to do. My head’s spinning, and it’s not only because I got stomped.” Charles ran his hand over the sheets, smoothing out the wrinkles. “I guess I’m sort of glad you came over—it’s helping me figure this out.” He gave a weak smile. “If you’re here, then she’s not involved, she’s not a part of this. I don’t know who to trust, but I trust her, and if she trusts you, then so do I. I’m not sure about anyone else right now.”

  Nathan’s heartbeat jumped for a second as he ran the scenarios through his mind.

  A rogue employee beating up HP clients?

  No.

  It didn’t feel right.

  Why beat up Charles and then walk away?

  “I know you’re scared.” He moved to stand next to the bed, keeping his voice low. “But even you’ve got to admit that doesn’t make any sense. Blackmail would be the logical thing if it were a pissed-off employee. He didn’t make any demands other than you stop seeing her?”

  “None,” Charles reaffirmed. He rubbed the back of his head with his good hand. “Now that I’m going over this with you it makes less sense, in a way.” He chuckled. “Guess that crack on my head was harder than I thought. It doesn’t work, does it?”

  “It doesn’t,” Nathan repeated. “You know the background checks we go through. You think their employees get anything less? They wouldn’t risk it. Too much to lose. If anything, he would have tried to shake you down instead of telling you to quit. You quit her, you remove the reason for the blackmail. No point to it.”

  Charles cocked his head to one side. His eyebrows rose as he slowly nodded his agreement.

  “I know I should have explained it to the cops, to the company. But I was in shock and pain, and I was so scared. I just—” He pressed his lips into a tight line. “I just had to call and cancel. I couldn’t risk saying anything more, doing anything more right now.” He bunched up the sheets with his good hand. “No matter how much I might want one thing, I have to think of the bigger picture. What I can’t afford to lose.” He locked eyes with Nathan. “You know what I’m saying.”

  “I know.” Nathan nodded. “I know,” He repeated.

  The two of them stood there for a long minute.

  Nathan cleared his throat. “There’s another possibility.” He chose each word carefully. “There’s a man out there who might have a grudge against our friend.”

  Charles’ eyes widened. “And I got caught in the backwash.”

  “M
aybe,” Nathan said. “I can’t say yes, and I won’t say no.”

  “So what do you think I should do?” Charles asked.

  Silence surrounded them.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I don’t know,” Nathan answered.

  It was the harsh truth.

  “You could revise your statement and include the details. But that’d lead to the company and so on if we wanted to investigate this man further,” Nathan added.

  “Let me think on this a minute.” Charles closed his eyes. “I’m still taking this all in, and I’m not exactly at my best. Excuse me.”

  “Take as long as you need.” Nathan leaned against the wall. “I’m in no rush.”

  Someone dropped a tray outside the closed door. The metal clanging grated on Nathan’s ears, but he didn’t move, didn’t want to interrupt Charles’s introspection.

  He’d want the same respect and silence to make his own decision.

  Finally Charles shook his head, slowly and carefully. “I’m sorry. It’d open too many doors. I’m not ready for that.” He bit down on his lower lip and grunted. “I might never be.” He caught Nathan’s eye. “You understand. I care for her but when it comes down to it I can’t expose myself for her.” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” Nathan said. “I understand.”

  He wasn’t lying. If he were in Charles’s place, he wasn’t sure what he’d say back.

  But now he knew they couldn’t use this crime to get Lucas Tanner.

  And that left precious few options.

  Nathan nodded. “Thank you for talking to me.”

  He moved toward the door to leave.

  “Officer.”

  Nathan turned.

  “Please tell her I’m sorry. And I’ll miss her horribly.” Charles looked directly at Nathan. “I’m not strong enough to do this. But you—you take care of her. In every way you can.”

  The tone left no room for discussion, reminding Nathan of the tough lawyer laying out the basic facts in court.

  You’re a cop. You have a duty. Protect her.

  Nathan gave a curt nod, his stomach rolling.

  As he walked out the doors and headed for the parking lot, he mentally ran down the issues presented.

  It was easy to look at Tanner as the only suspect. But he knew from experience things weren’t always as they seemed.

  They needed to be certain of their facts.

  Initial problem—was this attack aimed at Jen, Charles or Hooded Pleasures?

  Let’s look over Charles again. Let’s make sure we’ve got the right target.

  Nathan dug in his pocket and found a few coins. He dropped them in the lap of a sleeping homeless person huddled in a doorway.

  Maybe someone found out Jen had been visiting Charles and didn’t like it.

  Maybe one of his ex-girlfriends.

  Maybe one of his competitors looking to get some dirt on Litten.

  Maybe—

  He shook his head, dismissing the idea and clearing Charles as the target.

  As he’d stated to Charles—it didn’t make sense. Blackmail would be more likely if they wanted to put the boots to Charles more than just physically. They could ask for money, information, use him somehow.

  Demanding he quit seeing Jen effectively terminated any chance they had to control him.

  Nathan kicked a crushed soda can down the street. He stopped and picked it up before dropping it in the nearest trash receptacle.

  Jen next.

  Tanner looked better and better for this.

  He at least warranted a closer look, if for nothing else than to clear him.

  Nathan frowned as a cold wind cut through his clothing.

  If the guy’s got a grudge, then why not attack Jen directly? It takes a lot of time and effort to stalk someone, and if he’d been following her around, then why not just jump her and be done with it?

  He forced himself not to think about that confrontation. Jen might be a good fighter, but a punk like Tanner would fight dirty. He wasn’t going to lose to her again if he could help it.

  What was the purpose of going after one of her clients? Did he even know who Charles was, what she was for him?

  For me?

  Nathan turned into the parking lot and headed for his car.

  Last target, then—the company itself.

  Who would want to take HP down?

  Nathan ran through the steps in his mind.

  A rival company or maybe an angry ex-employee.

  Give it up, he told himself. This is beyond what you know about HP.

  And this is why you can’t keep it between you and Jen any longer.

  Nathan slid in behind the steering wheel and dug the keys out of his pocket.

  This could get damned messy.

  No matter who was the target, the entire situation stank to high heaven.

  The priority was figuring out who the real target was, HP or Jen.

  The company or the woman.

  Until they could figure that one out, they’d be one step behind whoever had cracked Charles in the head.

  Nathan scowled at the parking attendant as he pulled out of the parking lot, the harsh truth twisting in his gut.

  This was going to get a lot worse before it got better.

  * * * * *

  On his way home, he called Dispatch and booked off his next shift, claiming stomach flu. Nathan had a slew of sick days available, and there was no way he could go to work and put this off until the next day. It wouldn’t be fair to Jen and HP to put them on hold until he’d completed his shift, and it wasn’t fair to Henry and the people he was sworn to protect and serve if he was distracted and worried.

  Now he waited for the phone to ring.

  Nathan busied himself by making up a fresh pot of coffee and a tray of cinnamon rolls, the simple routine of popping out the prefabricated bits from the fat doughy cylinder keeping his mind busy.

  He’d need the sugar and caffeine if things went anywhere near as crazy as he expected them to.

  There was no good way to say what he had to say to Jennifer. What he wanted her to do, wanted them to do.

  All he could hope for was to contain the damage.

  It was well after three in the afternoon when the phone rang. Nathan stopped his pacing in the kitchen and snatched it up.

  “What did he say? How did he look?” The breathless questions had him aching to have her there in his kitchen, safe under his watch if any of his fears were well-founded. “I pulled up the news report online. He—”

  “He’s fine. I’ve seen worse. Nothing he can’t recover fully from with a bit of rest and a few pain pills.” Nathan cleared his throat. “We spoke and agreed it wasn’t a random mugging.”

  Jen paused for a moment. “What?”

  “During and after the attack, his assailant made it clear Charles shouldn’t see you anymore.”

  “Oh.” Jen swallowed hard. “I don’t—”

  Nathan cut her off. He’d been holding this in for too long and wasn’t going to hold back to be polite or gentle.

  “Charles wasn’t some unlucky victim. He was stalked, followed until the opportunity presented itself—he was alone and vulnerable, open to be attacked.” He slashed the air with his hand, not caring she couldn’t see him. “He was targeted for one of three reasons. Someone had a personal hate on for him, someone had a hate on for you, or someone had it on for Hooded Pleasures. No matter which option, it’s bad and going to get worse before it gets better.”

  The line went silent.

  Nathan plowed on. “The mugger made a point of telling Charles to stop seeing you. He was attacked because of his relationship to you and/or to HP. I don’t think it’s about Charles. It’s too focused to be just about him. It’s either about you or
HP. Either one doesn’t make me happy.”

  He paused to catch his breath and steel himself for what had to be said.

  “It’s time to call Hooded Pleasures. Someone’s targeting you or their clients. Either option isn’t good. And I haven’t even started talking about Lucas Tanner.” He kept talking, not giving her the chance to interrupt. “I know it’s probably going to get our arrangement terminated, but I have to think about keeping the public safe. It’s not about just us. I have a responsibility as a cop and as a human being to sound the alarm bells on this before anyone else gets hurt. I’d call the police myself, but without anything other than circumstantial evidence, it’s not going to go far. Charles won’t talk to the cops, and I don’t blame him.”

  The silence made him go on talking.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t let this go. Even if you asked me to, I couldn’t. I wanted to tell you before I called HP, because it’s all going to come down on our heads and you deserved to know what I was going to do first.”

  The quiet on the line spun his stomach around. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Jen?”

  “You’re right. Let me call it in. You won’t get past the operator.” She gave a rough laugh. “They’re good at stalling when they have to be. I’ll be able to cut through the static faster.”

  Nathan felt the knot in his stomach start to unravel. “I believe you. Call me when you’ve got an answer. I’ll be waiting for an update.”

  “Yes. Thank you. For everything.” The line fell silent.

  He looked at the blank screen, then at the oven, the thick cinnamon smell beginning to fill the kitchen.

  It seemed like months since he’d knelt at her feet at the front door, eager to submit to her every wish—his one thought on serving her and by doing so obtain his own pleasure.

  Now he felt like someone had been tap-dancing on his balls. And not in a good, fun way like Jen would do it.

  “This is turning into one hell of a day,” he announced to no one.

  * * * * *

  Jen had been working the bag while waiting to call Nathan, channeling the energy into something more productive than glaring at the phone.