“Go on, baby, turn so he can see you better,” Mick urged, settling deeper into his chair, as if to keep himself from lunging out of it. He crossed his arms tightly, hands fisted.
Where was this going ?
“Is that what you want?” she asked. “For him to see me better?”
Mick’s jaw worked. “It’s what I want.”
Was this some kind of test?
“Why?” she asked him again.
Instead of answering her, he turned to Bobby. “See her collar?”
Bobby nodded uncertainly.
“It’s a slave collar. Caroline is my slave. She’ll do anything I tell her.”
“Pleasure slave,” she corrected. “I only obey in things sexual.”
He inclined his head. “Pleasure slave, then.”
Bobby swallowed, flicked his gaze first to her, then to Mick. “Yeah, huh?”
“Yeah. Caro, show the man your breasts.”
Face burning, she decided to play along. Mick was after something and she wanted to know what. She turned.
“You see?” A shade of triumph colored Mick’s tone.
“Uh-huh,” came Bobby’s near-strangled reply. “I see.”
“Anything else you want me to tell her to do?”
Caro’s nipples screamed with an electric jolt that shot straight between her legs. Oh, God.
Bobby let out a long, intense breath. His Adam’s apple jerked violently. “Yeah. Tell her to button her jacket.”
She almost sagged with relief.
Not that the thought of Bobby touching her was all that awful. He was a great guy, and she’d even occasionally wondered what he looked like taking a shower. But then Mick would walk into the room and she’d forget all about Bobby.
Mick shook his head. “Sorry, bro. It pleases me to have her exposed.”
It wasn’t even the idea of being touched by two men at the same time that frightened her. Wasn’t that a fantasy nearly every woman had?
“Tell him to take a hike, Caro,” Bobby murmured. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I know,” she said, torn between running from the room in embarrassment, or grabbing Bobby’s hands and placing them on her breasts just to see Mick’s reaction. “I enjoy what he does to me. He takes me places I’d never have the courage to go on my own.”
“Even if he told you to sleep with another man?”
After a slight pause, she answered truthfully, “I’m not sure.”
“You assume I’ll give you a choice,” Mick, who’d been silent during their exchange, interjected.
She turned to him, her body up until now a willing participant in his every urge. “Are you telling me to sleep with Bobby?”
Mick’s hot gaze pierced her, probing, judging, testing her will for weakness.
“No,” he finally said, and she knew she’d won the game.
Or so she’d thought; but his next words were, “I’ll leave that for Bobby to decide. If I go to jail, I’m giving you to him, to be his pleasure slave, to do his bidding as you’ve done mine.”
With that, Mick stood up and took his key chain from his pocket. Unfastening the tiny silver key that unlocked her collar, he handed it to her. His ice-blue eyes glittered with an indefinable emotion as he said, “Take it. You may choose to go with him now, or you can wait. It’s up to you. But if they arrest me, you are to give him this key. Do I have your word?”
“No, Caro, this is crazy,” Bobby protested.
“You have my word,” she said to Mick.
His eyes narrowed. “So easily?”
“They aren’t going to arrest you, Mick.”
She pressed the key back into his palm and slid her arms around him, pulling him close to her body. The familiar smell of him enveloped her, the press of his chest against her bare breasts filled her with the need to feel more of his power, filling her, taking her. It was unthinkable that this man whom she’d just found be put behind bars, denied to her for years, maybe their whole lives.
“They can’t,” she said. “You’re innocent.”
She reached up to kiss him, opened her mouth and tasted his tongue on hers. A drift of lime wafted in the air. Then Mick’s hand slid under her skirt and she forgot everything else but the sensation of his touch.
“Ah, baby,” he whispered in her hair, “I’m the furthest thing from innocent.”
The next thing she knew, her back was to the wall and he was thrusting inside her. She moaned and moved her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and gave herself up to the pleasure of his body battering into hers. She bit her lip against the urge to cry out, and when she lost the battle he covered her mouth firmly with his hand, grunting low with each massive thrust into her. She climaxed with a violence that shook her to her very soul.
When she came to, gasping for breath, she couldn’t get her legs to work. Mick was holding her up and breathing heavily against her temple. He kissed her hair, her neck.
He rolled them so his back was to the wall. “Damn,” he stammered between gulps of air. “Damn.”
She felt like a well-loved rag doll, but he sounded upset.
“I can’t believe we did that,” she murmured, panting against his shoulder. “Bobby—”
“Left a while ago.”
Mick’s mouth found hers and latched onto it, saturating her with the taste of him. His tongue pushed deep inside, making her moan anew. Still within her, his cock thickened. The man was a satyr.
She tried to raise her knee, to give him better access, but her muscles wouldn’t cooperate. “I can’t move,” she said with a tiny laugh.
She felt his chest expand, then he jetted out a deep breath. “Just as well. I didn’t mean to go this far. Not at the station.”
She smiled up at him. “I’m glad you did.”
He smiled back, a rare smile, but it seemed tinged with sadness. His arms tightened around her. “You shouldn’t be. I’m so sorry. I should never have dragged you into all of this.”
He set her aside firmly, then readjusted his slacks and fastened them. Her skirt slid back down around her thighs. With a sigh she did up her bra and blouse. Mick fished a comb from his inner jacket pocket and ran it through his hair. That quickly, he’d reverted back to his neat, cool, buttoned-down appearance. Except for a few wrinkles in her clothing, you would never guess they’d just indulged in earth-shattering sex.
He hesitated before depositing the comb back in his pocket and his gaze flew over her hair. Another smile, and the comb disappeared.
Instinctively, she reached up. “Am I a mess?”
“Beautiful as always.” He walked to the window and set his butt on the sill. “There’s something you should know,” he said, sliding his hands in his pants pockets.
Before she could reply, the door opened again and Bobby looked in. “You two finished...conferring?” he asked, voice gruff.
“I can’t imagine what you mean,” Mick said, motioning him in.
Bobby sent him a withering look. “Just came to get Caro. Fredrickson’s ready for her.”
Mick nodded. “Go on, baby. Oh, and tell the lieutenant I’m taking the afternoon off,” he added.
“Will I see you later?” she asked.
“Hard to say.” He looked at Bobby. “Good luck tonight, partner. Remember what I told you.”
With that, Mick rose from the sill and turned to stare through the window.
Caro tamped down a spike of irritation over being summarily fucked and dismissed. She made herself remember that the case Mick had worked his butt off for two months had been ripped out from under him, and tonight the bad guy would go down without his help. Possibly, he would be in jail himself before the day ended.
Who could blame him for being a bit testy?
She could, that’s who.
He wanted to shut her out after all they’d shared? Not a chance.
She went over and slid her arms around his waist. Giving him a hug, she whispered, “I love you.”
The
n she retraced her steps and walked out the door.
***
“What’d you say to him?” Bobby asked as they headed for Homicide. “The look on his face...”
“I told him he’s a prick,” Caro said.
Bobby chortled. “I think you hurt his feelings.”
“The Iceman? Please.”
“Amazing as it sounds...” He halted in the hall outside the squad room. “Anyway, the L.T. is one very unhappy camper, so I advise you to tread lightly.”
“I’ll be a perfect angel. By the way,” she said, “I’m sorry if...well, if you were embarrassed earlier.”
“Not a problem.” His gaze dipped briefly to her breasts. “Listen—”
She waved a hand in his face. “Forget it, Bobby.”
He looked guileless. “What?”
“Whatever it is you’re thinking. Just forget it.” With that, she yanked open the squad room door and headed for the lieutenant’s office.
***
The interview—or whatever you wanted to call it—went fairly well. Bobby was there, and the lieutenant, of course, and he insisted a union rep also be present as an observer.
In answering the L.T.’s questions, she just told the truth.
Basically.
Okay, maybe she changed a few insignificant details. Such as why Mick was chasing her around her apartment that night Roger called in a domestic on them. They didn’t need to know all the gory details. Just that she and McGraw enjoyed a healthy and imaginative sexual relationship.
Which was a huge violation of departmental policy, she acknowledged. There was a big rule about commanding officers not having sex with subordinates. Sexual harassment. It was a good rule, and she understood it perfectly. But she and Mick were different.
She managed to talk Fredrickson into believing they’d started their affair only because they were both trying to get an edge on the Teddie Killer and his victimology. Which was actually true. Pretty much. They would never have slept together in the first place if it hadn’t been for the case. They wouldn’t have been thrown together like they were, wouldn’t ever have had the opportunity.
Unless, of course, Mick had happened upon her alone in the parking garage late one night. Or she’d caught him taking covert pictures of her...
But Fredrickson didn’t need to know the extent of their fantasies about each other. The fact remained, it was the unusual nature of the case that had led to their relationship as it now existed. That much was absolutely true.
The lieutenant understood that. And he accepted it when she assured him pursuing their affair had been a mutual decision. Not sexual harassment on either part. Including their more...outrageous activities.
Still, when he reminded her if she continued her liaison with Mick she had no chance of transferring to Homicide, she took a deep breath to stave off her blinding disappointment.
“I’m afraid it’s one or the other,” the L.T. said.
“I understand the policy,” she said unhappily. How could she ever make that choice? Mick or her life’s goal? Luckily he didn’t ask. Besides, right now the only thing that mattered was getting the bad guy. Everything else could wait.
“Of course, the question may be moot,” Fredrickson continued with a sigh. “If Detective McGraw’s brought up on charges, his career in law enforcement is over.”
“Even if he’s innocent?” she pointedly asked.
“No. Not if he’s completely acquitted and exonerated.” The L.T. gazed at her searchingly. “You still think he’s not the killer.” He wasn’t asking, it was a statement.
She nodded. “I don’t have a death wish, Lieutenant. If I thought there was any possibility it could be him, trust me, I’d say so.”
“What about the evidence? Do you really think it’s a frame job?” He gazed at her intently, obviously taking her opinion seriously.
“I do.”
“But the condom wrapper...” Fredrickson drummed his fingers on the table. “How could the killer have gotten hold of something so personal?”
“Maybe the killer’s a woman,” she suggested wryly. “An ex-lover with a grudge?” The image of Mick’s former partner drifted through her mind. An attractive thought. Not.
All three men lifted their eyebrows skeptically.
“No, me neither,” she admitted. “I don’t know...unless...”
“What?”
“It may not mean anything, but... Well, Mick is always very careful about using protection. But the thing is, the next morning I never find any wrappers. Not in the wastebasket, or anywhere. He must gather them up and take them with him.”
“So...?”
“So, maybe one fell out of his pocket on the way home. Or maybe he disposes of them in a trash can outside his apartment. Or...well, you get the idea.”
Fredrickson nodded. “Yeah. I’m surprised he didn’t mention that. I’ll ask him about it.”
“And another thing,” she said, warming to her subject. “Those silk scarves. When I saw a couple at his place, he told me about buying them.”
Fredrickson glanced up. “He did?”
“He said they were on sale at Rasheed’s, and he liked the color. Rasheed’s is just down the street from his apartment.”
“When was this?”
She thought back. “The first time I saw one was Thursday, the day before Dr. Rawlings reported discovering the fibers. I didn’t ask Mick about the scarves until later. But he didn’t try to lie or hide them or anything, which one might expect if he was guilty of strangling women with them.”
“I suppose so,” the lieutenant said, mulling it over.
“Lieutenant, get a warrant and search his apartment. The only epithelials you’ll find on those scarves will be mine.” On an inspiration, she dug in her purse, producing the key to his apartment, which she still had. She plunked it onto the table. “Better yet, just go get the scarves and have Maria run them. They’re in a red gym bag in his spare room.”
The L.T. regarded her for a long moment, then reached out and slid the key back to her. “That won’t be necessary. I’m the first to admit the evidence against Detective McGraw is all circumstantial, and certainly equivocal.”
“In other words, it won’t hold up in court. Which is why you haven’t arrested him.”
Fredrickson’s eyes narrowed. “Before I take a step like arresting one of my own men I need to be one-hundred-percent convinced of his guilt. Your firm belief in his innocence is enough to make me hold off for now. After all, you have the most to lose if he’s not.”
He had no idea.
“I know I’m right. And after tonight everyone else will, too. Bobby’s going to get the real killer.”
“Which you think is Smythe.”
“I’m praying it is.”
“But?”
It still bothered her that the Teddie Murders were so similar to the way Mick’s mother was killed. And then there was that damned photo of his mother in that white one-piece....
“Has anyone looked at Mick’s father for this?”
Instead of the incredulity she expected, both Bobby and the L.T. regarded her with mild surprise. They glanced at each other guiltily, then Bobby said, “As a matter of fact, we have.”
“Agent Woodruff pointed us in that direction several days ago,” Lt. Fredrickson said. “Naturally we kept Mick out of the loop.”
“And?”
“The father has an alibi for one of the nights in question.”
“It holds up?”
“We’re still checking it out, but so far, yeah.”
“Damn.” Disappointment sifted through her.
“There’s something else, though,” Bobby said. “We confirmed a different connection today.”
“Between?”
“The father and Smythe.”
“What is it?”
“They shared a cell in Corcoran prison.”
***
The rest of the interview went by in a blur.
They’d shar
ed a cell!
This was unbelievable! If Smythe and daddy McGraw had discussed their crimes in detail with each other... They held such similarities, it gave plausible reason why Smythe’s fantasy might have evolved and escalated to include murder, and therefore why he killed in exactly the way he did. Not to mention an explanation for specifically implicating Mick in the process as a scapegoat. Mick had, after all, turned in and testified against his father, who was bent on revenge. Wasn’t that what Mick had said last night at Brimstone?
“Have you told Mick about the connection?” she asked Bobby after they’d left the lieutenant’s office and were walking down the hall.
He shook his head. “Didn’t have to. He was the one to suggest checking on it.”
Caro glanced at Mick’s partner and best friend. “Strange. He never said anything to me.”
“He wouldn’t. In all the years I’ve known him, he’s never once mentioned his father. But he’s been pretty grim about this case from the very beginning. Like he took every aspect of it very personally. I’ve never seen him so obsessed about anything.” He sliced her a look and grinned. “Well, at least until you joined the task force.”
She halted as Bobby leaned over the water fountain to take a drink. “Look. I know you promised Mick you wouldn’t take me to the Tether Club tonight, but—”
“Oh, no,” he interrupted, wiping his mouth. “Don’t even try.”
“I need to be at that party, Bobby. Surely you must see that.”
He held up a hand. “No. I agree with Mick. It’s too dangerous for you.”
She bristled. “But not for you and Cody.”
He had the grace to flush. “Caro, we are both seasoned veterans in Homicide. Your experience is limited at best. It has nothing to do with your gender, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
Yeah. She believed that.
“Bobby, the killer is not looking for a man. He’s looking for a couple. What if he goes off with someone else and two innocent people end up dead? Is that what you want?”
He looked distinctly uncomfortable. “It wouldn’t work. Smythe knows you and Mick are an item. He won’t go for you and me, or you and Cody.”
Slave To Love (sizzling erotic thriller noir - full length) Page 31
