“Not a problem.” Bobby went down the table pointing to a small handful of cops. “You, you, you and you. With me.”
As one, the group swarmed out the door. Mick smiled grimly after them. He almost felt sorry for Smythe. He wouldn't want to face that crew, not even in a good mood. Which they weren't.
“Anything else?” he asked those remaining.
Caro looked up and opened her mouth, then shut it again.
“Officer Palmer? You have something?”
“No. It's not important.”
“Okay, everyone pass your reports to Palmer, who'll get today's summary out asap.”
Caro stood to gather papers. “I'd like to request starting tomorrow everyone email me their reports, in addition to hard-copying them here,” she said. “It'll make things go faster.”
“Good idea,” Mick agreed, and adjourned the meeting. He needed to go somewhere quiet and think. But first he had one other situation. “Palmer, stick around. I want to hear what wasn't important.”
It took forever to clear the room. When he was finally alone with her, Mick allowed the tension and weariness to wash over him and let his shoulders sag. He rubbed his hands over his face, wondering how he should deal with what was surely coming.
Maybe if he ignored it, it would just go away.
Yeah, sure it would. Caro was a woman, and if there was one thing that could be relied upon from the opposite sex, it was that showing emotion only made her demand more. Which he wouldn't give. Couldn't give.
Obviously his best defense would be offense. He drew himself up to his full, intimidating six-foot-four.
“I didn't appreciate being put in that position, Caroline,” he stated.
Surprise flitted over her. “What position?”
He strode over and got in her face. “Airing our bed linen in public.”
For a moment she looked as though he'd slapped her.
Then she smiled tightly. “Is that what it was? Bed linen?”
“Do I have to remind you what I said?” he asked irritably. “What else would it be but bed linen?”
Her expression became sardonic. “Are you saying you need me in your bed? And here I thought you just meant on this case.”
“Of course I need you in my bed. I thought that was obvious.”
She took a step back, lifting her chin.
Uh-oh. Here it comes...
“And what about beyond that?” she asked.
“Don't push me, baby,” he warned. “You said yourself you're not interested in anything beyond that.”
“So I did,” she agreed firmly. “And I don't. I just needed to know exactly where we stand. In order to evaluate your offer.”
His offer? He couldn't decide if she was lying, or blind, or just in major denial. This had nothing to do with his offer of a transfer. She was already his for the taking. And what they had already went miles beyond mere sex. She had to see that. Mick wouldn't allow himself the luxury of emotions—that would be far too dangerous for both of them. But it didn't mean he wanted her to deny the feelings she had for him. Oh, no. He wanted her totally, helplessly, irrevocably in love with him. Bastard that he was.
Dream on, McGraw.
He grasped her by the arms, swung her around and held her so she couldn't escape him. “Very well. Here's where we stand. You’ve already accepted my offer, baby. At the station, I'm your boss, and you'll do as I say. Undercover, I'm your Master, and you'll do as I say. In bed, I'm your lover, your top, and you’re my bottom and you'll do as I say. How's that for clarity?”
Her cheeks blazed scarlet. “You really are a fucking arrogant bastard.”
“I believe we've been through this before and you're still right. I also believe that's what you like best about me, which scares you to death. And it’s why you're in love with me and will do anything I ask—which scares you even more.”
Her expression was priceless, if not exactly what he'd hoped for. “You're on drugs, McGraw.”
But she didn't pull away.
“We'll see about that.” He gazed down at her. “So. Are you wearing panties?”
Her eyes darted to the door. “Yes I am, and I have no intention of—”
“You're being a very naughty slave, Caroline.” Mick let go one of her arms, trailed his hand over her throat and nudged her chin up. “You promised to obey me.”
“Only at Brimstone.”
“That's not how I remember it.”
“You can take ginseng for that, you know.”
He slid his fingers down over her slave collar, caressing the cool metal links. “Impertinent, too. I'm going to have to punish you, Caroline.”
He felt a tremor travel through her other arm before she tried to jerk it from his grasp. “That line is getting old. Let go of me.”
He drew her closer. “Just as soon as you promise to go right to the ladies room and take off your panties.” He glanced at her legs. “And lose the panty-hose, too.”
She squirmed against him. “No.”
He felt a tiny spurt of anger and smiled. Slipping his fingers to the back of her neck, he wound them tightly in her hair, holding her head immobile. He released her arm and slowly slid his hand down her hip, gathering her skirt in his fist as he went. “Then I guess I'll just have to take them off for you.”
“Mick, don't,” she whispered.
He pressed closer still, working her skirt up to her waist. “Are you going to take them off?”
“For godsakes, Mick, someone could come in.”
“Would that bother you?” He tucked one finger under the elastic waist of her pantyhose, then two. Three. And tugged lightly.
The very tip of her tongue peeked out and swiped over her lower lip. “It will when they fire us.”
His balls swelled painfully. “You're exciting me, Caro. Tempting me. If I didn't know better, I'd think that was a dare.” He yanked down on the elastic, hard.
“No!” she squeaked, wriggling against him. “Please, Mick. This isn't like you.”
“Ain't that the truth,” he drawled. “See what you do to me? Right now I don't really care if we get fired.”
“I care.”
“Then what are you going to do about it?”
Her eyes implored him, but he wasn't in the mood for mercy. After what she’d done earlier, he wanted her total obedience. Nothing less.
She ground her jaw. “All right, fine. I'll take them off. Now let me go before someone comes in.”
Satisfaction surged through him. But he wasn't ready to relinquish her. Not just yet. He wanted to savor his victory.
“Are you wet?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.
Her lips pouted with the slightest trace of belligerence. “Yes,” she answered.
Even in submission she was giving him attitude. He took in the blush on her cheeks, her full, inviting mouth, her sparking eyes, absorbing every sensual detail. And couldn't help the smile that crept up on him at her sauciness.
God, she turned him on.
“Good,” he said, and let her go before he swept the papers from the conference table and took her right there. “When they're off I want you to bring them to my desk and hand them over.”
“Why, don't you trust me?”
His lip curled. “Whenever I miss you, I want to reach into my pocket and feel them there, still warm from your heat.”
Her temerity dissolved and he almost broke down and kissed her when her mouth parted and inched toward his.
“Not at the station,” he admonished. Giving her ass a good smack, he avoided her return punch and propelled her toward the door. “Get out of here before I do something we'll both regret. Be at my desk in five minutes or I'll come looking for you.”
And God help them both if he did.
***
Caro fled from the conference room, ablaze in fluster and confusion, and rubbing her bottom in annoyance.
Dammit! She'd done it again. Succumbed to Mick's persuasive ability to seduce the brains right out
of her head. She had to admit, his strategy had been masterful. To confess he needed her—now that was genius.
She practically ran down the corridor toward the ladies room. Good thing he hadn't meant it. Not in a deeper sense than sexual gratification, anyway. At least... He hadn’t, had he?
No, his little speech was all about power. His power over her—at the station, undercover and in bed. Power she wasn’t ready to relinquish. Well, except maybe the bed part.
And she wasn’t in love with him.
No damn way.
She crashed into a bathroom stall and locked the door with a loud, comforting snick. She closed her eyes, smelling the remains of some flowery perfume, and tried to get her heartbeat under control.
Nothing wrong with sexual gratification. What worried her was, for some unfathomable reason this unreachable, unobtainable demi-god of the netherworld made her want more. More than sex.
Covering her mouth, Caro stifled a groan.
No, no, no.
She wasn't cut out for love. Wasn't equipped for it. Didn't want it.
Truth be told, she was scared to death of love. Especially with a man like Mick McGraw.
She pressed her back against the cold metal of the stall, a comforting contrast to the warmth streaking her cheeks.
There. She'd said it. The root of all her problems with men. And no doubt the reason she was so attracted to such an inappropriate one. One who took no prisoners, gave no quarter, and demanded everything she had.
Fear.
How ironic that she'd fallen for a man who was even more frightened of love than she.
She let out a short laugh. “You've really done it this time, Palmer,” she murmured. And looked down at her legs.
Now. What to do about the current dilemma.
Should she, or shouldn't she?
Did it really matter?
Probably. Mick seemed a bit testy about the whole being late to work thing, and how she’d forced the issue in front of the whole team. Probably not a wise move on her part.
The least she could do was submit to him on this. It was harmless enough. Besides, she’d love the satisfaction of driving him crazy with his need to possess her. She would delight in pushing him to the limit of his endurance. Making him acknowledge it was her he desired. That he would risk all to have her.
That feeling was more exciting than anything she'd ever experienced. Last night when he'd lost all his civilized veneer, it had been thrilling beyond her wildest fantasies. And just now, when he'd wanted her so much he didn't care if they were fired, it had been nearly impossible to maintain her reason in the face of such a declaration.
She’d wanted to cave.
Because, as hard as it was to admit, there was nothing more powerful than seeing the look in Mick's eyes when she finally submitted to his will.
“You've got it bad, girl,” she whispered, shaking her head.
And reached down to take off her panties.
***
It felt weird.
To walk through the police station with no stockings or underwear on was harder than any undercover hooker stroll Caro had taken out on Colorado Blvd. Even harder than last night when she'd let Mick have his way with her breasts in front of all those people.
No one can tell, she reminded herself on the way to Mick's desk. How could they? Just as they couldn't see the slave collar locked solidly around her neck.
In his office he greeted her with a slightly raised brow.
“Here's that file you wanted,” she said, and handed him a manila folder she'd hidden the panties in. She glanced around, relieved to see Lieutenant Fredrickson wasn't there. Outside the glass partition, the few detectives who were at their desks hardly looked up since they'd gotten used to her presence in Homicide.
“Just in time,” he said, smoothly slipping them into his jacket pocket. “I was about to hunt you down.”
She hrumphed. “In the ladies' room?”
He just smiled in that way he had that sent chills down her arms. The one that said such details wouldn't slow him down for a nanosecond.
“Not at the station, McGraw,” she mimicked.
His comeback was forestalled by the lieutenant walking in.
“Just the two I wanted to see,” Fredrickson said, striding past them to his desk. “Front and center.”
She exchanged glances with McGraw, who didn't seem particularly concerned. She was. What if the lieutenant had heard rumors...?
“Fill me in,” the L.T. said.
Mick took ten minutes filling him in on news from the task force meeting, and another five outlining their movements from last night at Brimstone—omitting the juicier details. Still, Caro's face had heated considerably by the time Mick finished his update.
“You two going back to Brimstone tonight?”
Mick nodded.
“Everything set up with Cody?”
“Yeah, but we'll touch base again before going in.”
“Right.” The lieutenant drew a bead on Caro. “How are you holding up, Palmer?”
“I'm fine, sir.”
He jerked his head toward Mick. “This guy making you uncomfortable?”
She clasped her hands behind her back, resisting the urge to adjust her slave collar. Or smooth her skirt over her pantyless hips. “I can handle him, sir.”
“I know this case is demanding over and above from you. If things ever go too far—” his gaze bored into her “—and I do mean ever—I want you to walk away, and come to me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” She stood straighter. “We're going to catch this skell. I'll do whatever it takes.”
He contemplated her for a moment longer, then smiled. “Good. Mick, take the afternoon off and get some sleep. You look like crap.”
“But—”
“No buts, that's an order. Palmer, remember what I said. Now, go find the fucker,” the lieutenant said, and they were dismissed.
Mick was deep in a scowl, mentally re-arranging his day under obvious protest, so Caro headed for the door and the report summary that still needed doing.
“Oh!” she said, suddenly remembering the mysterious business card, and turned back. “Mick I forgot to tell you. I found this in my pocket this morning.” She handed him the card. “I thought it might be important, but when Tim came up with a real suspect—”
Mick took one look at it and instantly demanded, “How did it get in your pocket?”
She explained her theory, under his intense scrutiny.
“This could be the break we’ve been looking for,” he said. “I thought there was something familiar about Smythe's picture. Maybe he was at Brimstone. Here, take a closer look.” He flipped a file open to the ID photo in the printout Tim had given him. “What do you think? Recognize him?”
She studied the picture carefully. “Maybe. The eyes—” She shook her head. “I don't know, Mick. There were so many people, and it was so dark.”
“It's okay. We'll know who to look for tonight.” He gave her an unexpected we're-in-this-together smile that warmed her to the very core. Then he reached into his pocket, and the character of his smile changed.
He was touching her panties. The ones she wasn't wearing.
Whenever I miss you, I want to reach into my pocket and feel them there....
Suddenly she wanted to run. Hide before she did something totally inappropriate, like have her legs give out. Or kiss him on the mouth, right there in front of the L.T., Homicide and the whole world.
“Get on this as soon as the summary's done,” he said, handing the card back to her. “Go up to the third floor and have one of the computer people help you. Find out who owns the site. Follow all the links, dig up everything you can.”
“Maybe someone else would be better—”
“No, Caro. You do it. You might spot something no one else could. Because of Brimstone. Because of what you've experienced. Because you're good at your job. You do it.”
She swallowed down a big lump tha
t suddenly materialized in her throat. “All right, Mick. I'll give it a whirl.”
“Since I've been ordered home to sleep, I want you to bring your results to my place.” He looked at his watch. “Say, four o’clock.”
She shot a glance at the lieutenant, who was busy shuffling papers. “Um—”
Mick pulled his hand out of his pocket, producing a key which he held out for her. “We can go over everything, grab something to eat, then I can drive you home to get ready for tonight.”
She stared at the key as he pushed it into her hand when she didn't take it.
He was giving her the key to his apartment.
Ho boy.
He scribbled the address on a piece of paper and stuck it next to the key burning a hole in her palm. “Come directly from work and don't be late.”
Without a word she rushed out of the office, seeking the calm and order of the task force room. At her desk, she fired up her computer and gingerly placed the key in her purse, handling it as though it were made of molten lava.
Somehow she finished the daily summary and had it sent out, then made her way up to the third floor. When she explained her mission, the woman in charge called over a thin, red-haired kid with thick glasses.
“This is Peter. Nothing about the Internet this man doesn't know or can't find out.”
“Perfect.” She handed him the business card and told him what she needed to do. “Any chance?”
Peter cracked his knuckles and led her to an open computer. “Child's play,” he answered with a grin. “Watch and be amazed.”
***
When the soft knock came, Mick checked the time.
Three o’clock. She was an hour early.
After a minute, he heard the key in the lock. Hesitant, unsure, carefully quiet.
He smiled and closed his eyes again, playing possum. What would she do? Come and wake him? Slip into bed? Sit in a chair and wait for four o’clock? Search the apartment?
He lay there on top of the covers, stripped to his BVDs, and listened for a clue.
Silent footsteps approached the bedroom, recognizable only by the familiar squeak of ancient hardwood floors. He felt a stirring and hoped his anxious cock wouldn't give him away.
For a breathless moment all was soundless as a tomb. Then the footsteps retreated. He waited for the scrunch of a leather cushion, or the scrape of a chair, but none came. Instead, there was another creak of floorboards, and another.
Slave To Love (sizzling erotic thriller noir - full length) Page 18
