So why was she so damn frustrated? Feeling like, just once in her life, she'd like to meet a man who had the balls to defy her wishes. Someone who knew what he wanted and wasn't afraid to demand it of her. Who would reach into her heart and rip it out, if need be, just to get her to feel something. Someone stronger, meaner and tougher than she was.
Someone like Mick had been last night.
Fuck him for making her think he really wanted her.
Scowling, she glanced at the clock. If she tried to get up now she'd probably collapse. Tonight they'd be at Brimstone until all hours. Surely he wouldn't dare say a word if she came in a little late from getting an extra hour's sleep—considering it was his fault that she hadn't gotten any to begin with. She turned over and slammed her eyes shut. And if he didn’t like it, that was just too damn bad.
***
At ten o'clock, she walked into the task force room and looked around for an empty desk. She felt jumpy as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Memories of the scandalous things she and Mick had done in her bed last night swirled into a giddy dread of seeing him. How would he treat her, now that they’d become lovers? Would he look at her with that special, sexy light in his eyes she'd melted beneath so many times last night? Or would he not even remember her name this morning...?
“You're late, Officer Palmer.”
His crisp, chilly observation cracked across the room, lifting heads all around. It was all the answer she needed. Last night had meant less than nothing to him, judging by the censure on his face. Recoiling from the involuntary hurt, Caroline felt her heart curl into a tight ball and creep back into the recesses of her innermost self. Back to where it had resided for most of her life.
Screw him.
Who needed the lying jerk anyway? She could handle this assignment much better without the complication.
She made herself stand straight and tall, unwilling to back down. As she had every time she’d confronted her father. “Since we'll be going undercover tonight, I thought—”
“We're all pulling twelve hour days, Palmer. You can put in your overtime just like everyone else.”
Her father had never given an inch, either.
“That will make an eighteen hour day, in case you have trouble adding,” she gritted out.
“Deal with it. I needed the daily update an hour ago. Get on it.”
For a split second the temptation to deliver a smack on his overbearing cheek nearly overwhelmed her.
“Yes, sir,” she said instead. He would not goad her into giving up this chance in Homicide. She might have made a colossal mistake last night, but she wasn’t the only one. If he thought by fucking her he could intimidate her as well, he had another think coming.
With deliberate calm, she set her purse on an empty desk and took the stack of individual reports he thrust at her. And for the rest of the morning she ignored the bastard.
At lunchtime she slipped out from the tense camaraderie of the task force as the other members organized sandwiches and sodas from a nearby take-out place, and went downstairs to SIS.
“Hey, querida!”
Julio met her with a big hug, which she happily returned. Now, here was a man who knew how to treat a woman right. Just figured he was gay.
“Yo, Palmer! How is it working for the Iceman?” called Lieutenant Bridger from across the room.
“Better check me for frostbite,” she returned sardonically. But something in her eyes must have betrayed her, because Julio peered into them suspiciously.
After parrying a few more teasing remarks from the squad, she let him lead her back to their desk in the corner.
“What's happened?” he murmured and put his arms around her. “And don' tell me nothin', chica,” he said in his smooth Hispanic lilt.
She shook her head, not wanting to go into the gory details. “I fucked up, Jul. Big-time.” She reached up and pulled the strings of his shark-tooth bolo tie. “Why don't I ever listen to myself?”
He studied her for a second, then his jaw dropped. “Ay Dios! You slept with him!”
She let out a humorless chuckle. “Actually, there wasn't a lot of sleeping involved. At least not for him. When I woke up he'd already gone.”
“The cad,” Julio muttered with a deadly expression. “And this morning I suppose he's back to treating you like a peon, or you wouldn' be down here moping.”
“I am not moping. I came to see you.”
His expression softened. “You're a terrible liar, you know.”
“Am not. So, how are you?” she asked pointedly.
“Me?” He shrugged, apparently going along with her change of subject for the moment. “You mean aside from having another knock-down drag-out with Barry?”
She looped her arms around his neck. “Oh, Jul. I'm so sorry.”
He pulled her close. “Thanks. I don' know what to do. He stayed out all night. Again. I'm sure he's found someone else.”
“He wouldn't dare. Doesn't he know he's got the best man in the country?” She held him for a moment, then gave a humorless chuckle. “Jeez, what a pair we are. Sure you wouldn't consider going straight?”
He laughed, kissing her nose. “For you, querida, I just might give it a try.”
From the door, Mick's voice cut through the air like a whip. “This how you spend your time in SIS, Palmer? It's a wonder you ever close cases.”
“Well, if it isn' the ever-tactful Detective McGraw,” Julio observed dryly. “Qué pasa, Detective?”
“What are you doing here?” Mick asked Caro stonily.
“It's lunch break,” she answered evenly, disentangling herself from Julio’s comforting embrace to turn and face McGraw. Her partner’s arms remained supportively around her.
She leaned back onto his chest and leveled a gaze at the man she'd spent most of the night under. And had to catch her breath. How he managed to look so fresh and unrumpled and sexy on the amount of sleep he'd gotten astounded her.
He closed in on her and the chiseled angles of his clean-shaven jaw grew sharper. “We usually spend lunch brainstorming task force strategies. Everyone is expected to participate.”
She crossed her arms against the unwanted erotic pull of his nearness, against the sensual familiarity of his every feature up-close, luring her to reach out and touch him.
“I'm sure no one noticed I wasn't there.”
His eyes narrowed. “I noticed.”
“Well, maybe you should have told me.”
“I'm telling you now.”
She bit back a retort, resenting the way he obviously expected her to jump to his command. As she had last night. The difference was, last night she’d been temporarily blinded by lust. She gave him a cool smile. “What's the matter, McGraw? Get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”
Mick's ice-blue eyes drilled into hers. “No.”
“Maybe he just got up too early,” Julio offered into the tight silence. “I hear gettin’ up too early can mess with a man's temper. An’ his good judgment.”
Ignoring him, Mick stated, “Agent Woodruff will be here in a few minutes to help interview the friends of the victims and go through the Brimstone employee files. I don't like having to chase after my people. Don't make me do it again.”
With that, he stalked to the door and waited. The whole squad turned to see what she'd do.
“Better go before he blows a gasket,” Julio muttered, giving her a quick kiss behind the ear and a little swat on the butt.
“Traitor,” she hissed beneath her breath, batting at his hand for smacking her ass, which he knew she hated. Nevertheless she did what he suggested, clamping her jaw against saying something she might regret.
When they got to the elevator, Mick stabbed the button and emptied his displeasure on her full-force. “What the hell was that all about? You told him?”
The elevator opened and she was herded in like a recalcitrant mare by a stallion.
“I didn't have to,” she said, turning on him, suddenly s
trangely composed. “What’s the matter, McGraw? Worried?”
She stepped close and stroked down his tie, slowly continuing the path down his abdomen with her hands. She’d show him what the hell this was all about.
“Caro...” he warned.
“Hmm?”
She kept right on going and slid a hand between his thighs, cupping the weight of his balls in her palm. She was gratified when he sucked in a breath, his eyes flaring momentarily in shock.
“Afraid I'll tell everyone how much you like being touched—” she twirled them gently in her hand, stroking the sweet spot right behind with her middle finger “—like this?”
She smiled as his body reacted powerfully.
His hand shot out to hit the elevator's stop button. The car lurched to a halt.
“I'm not afraid of anything.” He stood there watching her as she caressed him, cool as a cucumber and just as hard. “We left our badges outside the door last night, remember? But now we've got them back on, so cut it out.”
“Maybe I should just cut them off,” she softly suggested, and gave his sac a squeeze.
“Try it.”
He didn't even flinch. Just gave her an enigmatic quirk of his lips, revealing nothing of his thoughts. It was maddening. She was sorely tempted to squeeze harder. “Fuck you.”
His smile became more sinister. “Later.”
Someone on the floor above pounded heavily on the doors to the elevator shaft, making her jump.
“You gonna do something more interesting with that hand or should I let the elevator go?” Mick drawled.
She yanked her hand away and he calmly pressed the release button on the panel. With a jerk, the car ascended to the next floor.
The door whooshed open and he strode out, pointing to a small camera in the corner of the elevator's ceiling. “Now, smile real sweet for the surveillance tape,” he said with a look of infuriating smugness.
Ah, hell.
Chapter 6
Caroline sank her forehead against the wall next to the elevator. Damn, damn, damn. How brilliant had that move been? She'd completely forgotten about the security cameras that had been installed in the elevator due to the increased threat of terrorism. Now she’d have to do whatever he wanted, if he had a mind to make her. He could say she seduced him and they’d believe him— The whole thing had been caught on tape. And he'd known it all along. The bastard.
How on earth had this happened to her? In less than forty-eight hours she’d gone from being offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to fast-track her dream of transferring to Homicide, to possibly killing any chance of staying there by sleeping with her superior officer, to subsequently being royally fucked by him.
Damn, damn, damn.
Jeez, what a mess. She'd end up in a straitjacket if she had to face these explosive feelings and situations every day. Should she bail out now while she still had a modicum of dignity left?
No. She could handle this. She could handle him. She would reason with him. Suggest they both just forget any of it ever happened. Suggest they start over with a clean slate. And keep their hands off each other. Both of them. Maybe then she could work with him. It wouldn’t be easy. But she owed it to herself to try. She would not blow this chance because of a bad case of unruly hormones.
“Mick!” she called after his retreating form, and hurried to catch up. “I need to talk to you.”
“You can do that later, too,” he said without breaking stride. “Right after you fuck me.”
She didn't have time to do more than grind her teeth and think about lifting her foot and kicking him in the shins when Bobby and Tim Woodruff suddenly emerged from the task force center.
“You found her,” Bobby said cheerfully to Mick.
Sorely tempted, she nevertheless dropped her foot to the floor and tapped it impatiently instead.
“In SIS. She must miss it.”
Mick greeted Woodruff with a quick handshake. Without so much as a glance at her, he took a sheaf of files Bobby handed him and started down the corridor to one of the interview rooms.
Bobby gazed after him with a slightly raised brow, then leaned in to her. “Naughty, naughty. Detective McGraw doesn't like sharing his slaves with anyone. Better not let him catch you in SIS again.”
“He won't have to.” She crossed her arms mutinously. “He’s going to fire my ass any second.”
Bobby slung an arm around her shoulder, compelling her to follow McGraw and Woodruff. “Now, that’s not true and you know it.”
“I’m not kidding. Honest to God, Bobby. I don’t know if I can work with the man. He's a complete prick.”
Bobby chuckled. “I agree. But he's an equal opportunity prick. That's what makes him so good. The bad guys don't stand a chance. For some reason this case has him more wound up than I've ever seen him. My advice? Just do what he says and ignore the rest. If he likes you, he'll get you rotated into Homicide permanently. That's what you want, isn't it?”
It was. More than ever, not that she’d had a taste of it. “That's beside the point,” she said, puffing out a breath. “He doesn't like me. Not one damn bit.”
“Oh, yes he does. He does, indeed.”
They'd arrived at the door to Interview 3 where Tim and Mick waited for them, so Caro didn't have time to ponder what Bobby could have meant by that ridiculous remark.
“We'll be interviewing several close friends of the victims,” Tim explained before they went inside. “The idea is to put together a profile of the victims' patterns of behavior as couples. That way we'll better know how Mick and Caroline should interact at the club, Brimstone, to attract the attention of our subject.”
Mick nodded. “That will be helpful.”
Caro kept her mouth firmly closed, determined to turn things around. She followed the others into the room, buoyed by the thought that she was about to learn things few people, even detectives, were privileged to study. Tim’s professional insights into the killer’s mind were fascinating. This was what she loved to do.
Over the course of the next few hours, Caro forgot completely about her problems with Mick and immersed herself in the dark world of the sociopath for whom they were setting their trap.
One by one, the victims' friends were called in. Caro sat with Bobby at the far end of the table, observing and taking notes while Tim conducted the interviewees through an extensive set of personal questions about their friends' personalities and habits. Occasionally, Mick would throw in a question, and once she did, too.
“Do you happen to know if Ms Tailor enjoyed receiving oral sex?” she asked Wendy’s best girlfriend, the woman who had found the bodies.
The men turned to stare at her in surprise, but she ignored them, concentrating on the friend’s expression.
“Well, yes,” she answered, squirming a little in her seat. “We did talk about that once or twice. She liked it a lot. They both did.”
“Interesting. Thank you.” Then she clammed up.
Over the afternoon a pretty good picture emerged of each couple, which led to some interesting conclusions about the killer. Afterwards, Tim recapped what they had learned.
“You were right on target about them all dabbling in BDSM, Mick,” he said. “Though it seems far more likely it’s just experimentation rather than a permanent lifestyle.”
Mick nodded. “Yeah, sounds like they definitely enjoyed leather and dressing up, especially the women. I'm going to get FSI to go through their closets again and make a detailed list of any overtly sexual outfits. Might help our targeting.”
“Good idea,” Tim agreed. “Visuals can be very important.”
Mick narrowed his eyes on Caro. “Why did you ask them about oral sex?”
She swallowed against the memories inspired by the words, of Mick’s mouth on her last night, and responded coolly, “I’d think it would be obvious to such a gifted detective.”
“Why don’t you enlighten me.”
She took a breath. “All three autopsies in
dicated the women serviced the men orally, but not vice versa. That seemed like a strange coincidence to me. Especially considering the emphasis they put on that area of their bodies.”
“Emphasis?” Bobby asked.
“The wax jobs. That’s not something most women would do just for themselves. Too much work to maintain. They did it for their men. It’s an invitation. If not for oral sex, then for what?”
Tim nodded, looking interested. “Go on.”
“I’m thinking their sexual routines the night of their deaths may have been different than usual. Disrupted maybe. It could be because of other circumstances, but it could also be because of the killer.”
“Excellent observation,” Tim said, jotting more notes on his yellow pad.
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind at Brimstone,” Mick stated dryly.
Pointedly ignoring him, she asked Tim, “What about the rest of their behaviors? Anything jump out at you?”
“As you heard, the men were all very controlling, at least sexually. They liked to be in charge, and kept their women on a tight leash—literally. Mick, this is what you'll need to emulate.”
“That'll be a stretch,” Caro muttered, unconcerned when it drew a sharp scowl from him. Two could play the power game. If he thought she’d just roll over for him, he was in for a surprise.
“And you, Caroline, you should concentrate on being completely submissive.”
She darted a dagger look at Mick, who sat back with an infuriatingly smug curl at the corner of his impassive lip. In your dreams, hombre.
“Despite outward appearances, these women all enjoyed being dominated by the men in their personal lives, and there is no doubt it was a key factor in why the killer chose these particular couples. Something in that submissive behavior may be triggering his rage. Enough to make him track them down and kill them.”
Frowning, she thought about her own mysterious reaction to Mick's not-so-subtle domination last night, and said, “I just don't get it. These were all smart, strong, professional women. One was a lawyer, for crying out loud! Why would any sane, intelligent woman like being bullied and abused by a man? Especially her own husband?”
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