by Jane Henry
I feel as meek as I ever am. I like it. A little voice whispers to me that I’m letting him in too far, too soon, but I don’t want to listen to that voice. It’s nice, feeling safe like this, but I have some questions.
We slip into a comfortable silence, as he pulls on his clothes and hands me mine.
“Brax?” I have to ask him.
“Mmm?” he asks, then he reaches for his belt and threads it through the loops on his pants. I swallow, my mouth dry at the memory of what he did with that belt.
“What are we doing here?”
He raises a brow and a corner of his lips quirk up. “Tracking down Antonia Zandetti and finding out intel on Malloy, so we can find out who the fuck is after you,” he says. “And I’m also starving, so breakfast has to be somewhere on that agenda.”
“Right,” I say, turning my back to him. My throat is tight, and I swallow the lump down. That’s why we’re here. There can’t be more to that. He’s a man with a child, and I’m not fit to be a mother. I know this. And yet…
“Zoe.” His voice carries an edge of warning to it. “Why did you pull away from me like that?”
I shake my head. No. I’m not playing games with him. If he’s going to reject me and what we just did doesn’t mean to him what it means to him, I don’t want to know. Not now. Not yet.
“Zoe.”
A sharp tug on my arm makes me spin around to face him. I blink and look up at his eyes, blue storm clouds with a hint of gray.
“What?” I whisper.
He grips both my arms and pulls me against him. “We’re here to track Zandetti. But last night, you submitted to me. This morning, you did the same. And when you do, I get a glimpse of that soft, beautiful woman behind that tough-as-nails exterior. The one who will stop at nothing to protect the innocent. And the one who has a fucking hard time letting anyone take care of her.”
I swallow.
Oh my God.
That’s what this was about?
“Oh,” I whisper. “But I just mean… where does this leave… us?”
Without warning, he releases my arms and tugs me close to him so that his lips meet mine. I melt into the kiss, letting him claim me in silence, until he pulls me away. “Today, we find Zandetti. You stay with me and we work this through.” He takes in a deep breath. “Tomorrow, we find us. Deal?”
I smile. I’m not really sure what he means, but I respond almost instinctively. “Yes,” I breathe, smiling up at him, I give it a shot. “Yes, sir.”
Chapter 11
Brax
I watch from the corner of my eye as she takes a large bite of the bagel smeared with cream cheese we picked up from a local coffee shop. It’s bigger than her head, but she’s making short work of it.
“Seems getting fucked hard works up an appetite with you,” I tease, taking a sip of the scalding hot coffee. It’s got a nutty edge, dark and robust, and I welcome the heat down my throat. I need to be on my game with the day ahead. We’re four miles out from a little boutique where Antonia Zandetti supposedly works now. I got in touch with Myers before we left, and he gave me the specs of the place. Stock room in the back, small staircase that leads to a basement, escape route in the stock room if necessary.
“Hey, dinner last night is but a distant memory,” she says, swiping at her lips with a napkin. She misses a spot, so her tongue darts out to lap up the bit of cream cheese still there. I swallow hard, remembering what magic she does with that tongue. Christ, I can hardly stand the way she unravels me. I haven’t been with a woman like her. I’ve been with submissives, but have stuck mostly with scening at Club Verge. Something about the whole 24/7 thing seems oppressive, like maybe it’d get boring after a while. I admire the guys who do commit like Tobias and Zack, but from a distance have always sort of mourned the freedom they relinquished when they put on those rings.
But now… I don’t know where things are going with Zoe, but I do know that she brings out things in me I never expected. The idea of her being apart from me, or with another guy, of even being on her own again without me by her side, makes me sick. Having her submit to me makes me feel like a fucking king, like I rule the world, even if I have to fight my way there.
I reach out for her hand and squeeze. “We’re almost there,” I say.
“Well, are you gonna eat your breakfast? Gotta fortify yourself before you go kick ass,” she says. She lifts my sausage and egg burrito and peels back the wax paper it’s wrapped in, handing it to me. I smile to myself and take it from her.
“Thanks.” I take a bite, my mind a million miles away. She’s suffered, this woman, and even though she’s an adult now, the wounds inflicted in her childhood run deep. I’ll never forget the haunted look in her eyes she got when we were in Devin’s school. I wanted to lift her in my arms, tuck her into my chest, and run with her, away from the demons that chased her. She doesn’t trust easily, and she doesn’t let down her walls for just anyone. She’s done that for me.
But now we’ve got shit to do. “When we get to the boutique, we case it. Myers says there’s a stock room in the back with an emergency exit if we need it, and a basement is storage. There are three employees, and Antonia’s boyfriend is the owner, though of course she goes by another name now. She’s Carolyn to everyone who works there.”
“Got it.” She wads up her paper and sits up straighter, patting her side. “Tucking your sig into the waistband of your jeans sucks balls compared to a holster,” she says with a grimace.
“Wait. What? You brought your fucking gun?”
She rolls her eyes and tosses her hands in the air. “You think I’d go in unarmed? Are you fucking kidding me?”
I growl to myself. I suppose she has reason to bring a weapon, but still. Jesus. That ups the stakes here.
“Wait a minute,” she says, eyeing me warily as I cruise to a stop at a stoplight. “Don’t tell me you’re unarmed.”
I huff out a breath. “Of course not.” I’ve had a license to carry for a while now, and I won’t go on a job for Myers without protection.
“So it’s okay for me, a trained officer, to go into a high risk situation with nothing to defend myself but my hands and mouth? What am I supposed to say, ‘Stop! Hold your hands up, or I’ll shout again?’” She’s shaking her head, but still I can’t help but snort out a laugh. She has a point.
“Just means I need to keep a closer eye on you now, though,” I say. The light turns green and I watch the dot on the GPS move as I accelerate. One mile out.
“I can handle myself,” she retorts, the edge in her voice returning.
I reach for her leg and gently squeeze her knee, a reminder to her to listen to me. “I never said you can’t, Zoe. But you’re with me now. And there’s no beating me off anymore. Got it?”
She tries to pull away.
Yeah, like I’ll let that happen.
My grip on her tightens, and I intentionally move my hand further up her thigh, knowing it’ll get her attention. “I’m not gonna let you pull away from me, Zoe. You let your partner protect you?”
Reminding her of the man that could have lost his life may not be the smartest move, but I need to make my point.
“Of course I did,” she says, a little of the tension in her waning. I hear her swallow, so I gentle my voice.
“It’s no different. I’m here to protect your ass and you’re here to protect mine. We’ve got each other’s backs. That’s all. Okay?”
She lays her hand atop mine on her leg. “Yeah. Of course.” There’s more that needs to be said but now’s not the time. “Just… make sure you’re not holding me back. Seriously, Brax, I’ll kick your ass if you do that.”
I pull into an empty parking space on the street, not too far from the boutique. I can see the silver and red awning from where we sit.
I’ve never had a submissive threaten to kick my ass before. I’d like to see her try. Hell, I’m hard as a rock just thinking about it. But is she a submissive? Who the hell knows. All that ma
tters is that she’s Zoe, we’re in this together, and she’s fucking mine.
“You try to kick my ass, I’ll pin you over my knee and spank your ass. Deal?”
She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, but a faint pink flush colors her cheeks. “Fine. Deal.”
Win for me.
“This is the place,” I say. “You go in and pretend you’re a customer. You’ll find out who Antonia is, and make small talk. We’ll have to get her alone to get the information we need, but I’m not sure how easy that will be.”
“Right,” she says. “Pretend to like shoes and shit, pretend to be nice and sweet, and then once we find her we close in.”
My lips twitch upward. Reaching over, I give her midnight black hair a quick, sharp tug, watching her eyes heat. She loves that even if she narrows her eyes at me, as if daring to take her further.
I fucking love her feistiness.
“Yeah, babe. Something like that.”
Once we get out of the car, we check to make sure we look like normal civilians, weapons completely secured. My phone’s in my pocket and she’s got hers in hand. We walk side-by-side to the door, and I open it for her, the jangle of the bells alerting the occupants inside that we’re here. She goes in first.
It’s warm in here, and the space is fairly small. Circular displays showcasing what looks like handmade shawls and scarves with bold floral prints edge the periphery, and in the center, small tables with jewelry stands are front and center. Zoe goes straight to the bracelets on display, fingering delicate silver shells as she cases the small enclosure, eyes flitting discreetly every which way. I can feel the tension in her body as she observes everything. She’s alert, ready to act, intelligent as fuck. A flicker of pride hits my chest.
“Hello.” Zoe looks up, and a young woman with blonde hair in a braid that falls over her shoulder smiles at us. Not Antonia. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Hmm,” Zoe says, contemplating the bracelet on the stand. “These are so pretty. But I’m wondering if you have these styles in gold, not silver?” She looks over her shoulder at me. “My boyfriend favors gold.” Her lips curl up. “And he’s paying.”
So we’re playing that angle? I can roll with that. I smile at the clerk. “She’s not allowed to wear anything but the best. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” I place a hand at the small of her back and pull her closer to me.
“Of course,” she says with a grin.
“I see,” the girl says, nodding. “Let me go back to the store room and see what we have.” Both of us eye the door, looking for any signs that Antonia is about, but when the store room door swings open, all I see is blackness.
“You see anything?” I whisper to her.
She shakes her head. “Nope.”
I’m beginning to wonder if we’ve hit a standstill when the door to the shop jangles. I turn to see an older woman with dark skin enter the store on the arm of a much taller man. She’s changed her hair and wears glasses now, but there’s no mistaking Antonia. The man she’s with bends down and kisses her cheek, then makes his way to the store room.
“That’s her,” she whispers in my ear. “And her boyfriend.”
I nod. Bingo. Now we just need to get them to talk.
“Hello,” she greets, shrugging out of a sweater. “Are you two being helped?”
“Yes, thank you,” Zoe says. “I was reading about this shop on Yelp, and it seems you get some of the highest ratings of any boutique on the Cape.” She smiles up at Antonia. “It must be the stellar customer service and the exceptional quality of your products?”
Antonia smiles. “Perhaps. We do aim to please. Please let me know if there’s anything at all I can get for you.”
Zoe nods once. “Thank you.”
We need to make our move. Not twenty-four hours ago, the man Zoe partnered with was attacked. Here stands the woman who has answers, and we’re not going to fuck around. Zoe looks at me, our eyes meeting in mutual agreement, before she places the bracelet down and steps to the counter. I follow behind her.
“Actually, there is something you can get me,” she says, her smile fading. The woman’s eyes grow wary, but we advance on her so that her back is to the wall where leather wallets and keychains hang. She has nowhere to go. Zoe keeps up her friendly, conversational tone. “I’m actually looking for someone, not something.”
“Oh?” the woman asks. Her eyes dart to the stockroom, and the door swings open, but just the blonde emerges.
“Oh, Carolyn, there you are,” the blonde says. “Do you know if we carry the shell bracelet in gold?”
“I’ll have to check the stock room,” the woman says, sidestepping so that she can get away from us. There’s no way we can let her get that far. If she does, she’ll escape, and we lose our lead.
“No,” the girl says. “There’s nothing there. I already checked.”
Her smile is plastered on her face as she responds, facing us, and walking quickly to the back room. “Oh there are a few storage places that I can only access with the key.” She’s lying, trying to escape as her steps quicken. We need to make our move now. I nod to Zoe and jerk my chin toward the door. She steps quickly ahead of Antonia, blocking her exit, and walks up to her as she yells up to the girl in front. “Can you find the straw hat right near the entrance in a small for me?”
“Of course,” the girl says, stepping further away.
Now that Zoe has the woman cornered, her voice cuts through the quiet like a whip. “Antonia Zandetti.” Zoe’s eyes blaze into Antonia’s, her stance prohibiting any movement. “We’re not here to hurt you, but you need to listen to us. Send your employee out on an errand.”
Anotonia’s eyes shutter. “I have no idea who that is,” she whispers, taking another step toward the stock room, but now I’m following right behind Zoe, caging Antonia in.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” I say, my voice calm and smooth, meant to placate. “But do as she says now.”
The woman shakes her head. “Get out of my store before I call the police,” she whispers, her hand clutching at her throat. Her eyes are wide, nostrils flared.
“Antonia,” Zoe whispers, stepping even closer. “We’re here because the police are the ones after you. Now get rid of your employee so we can have a little chat.”
“You’re lying,” Antonia spits out.
“You have until the count of ten,” I say. “That’s one.”
She blinks.
“Two.” Her eyes dart from the room to the storeroom. “Three.” I’ve learned to use the power of numbers in high-stakes situations. It usually has the desired effect. “Four.” I raise my brows at her, giving her my most formidable dominant look. “Five.”
“Chelsea!” she yells out, her voice a bit strangled. I do feel badly for her that she’s afraid, but this was the woman who covered her own ass when her husband was killed, after cheating on him. She went into hiding with information that could’ve convicted those who deserve prosecution. People are dead because of her.
The blonde in the front looks back at her, startled. “Yes?”
“Please do me a favor, and fetch me a latte from the little coffee shop down the street? And get yourself whatever you’d like. Put it on my account.”
“Certainly,” the girl says. “Anything else?”
“Just the latte,” Antonia orders.
“No problem. I’ll be right back.” The door clangs shut behind her. Zoe removes her gun from her hip, the silver flashing. Antonia’s eyes widen. Zoe points her gun at the door.
“Go lock the door.”
Antonia does as she says, heads to the door and clicks the locks in place, but on her way back, she sidesteps toward the checkout desk.
“Oh no you don’t,” I say. In two long steps I reach her, but it’s too late. She’s hit a red button, and a noise sounds in the back. I grip her arm and haul her to the room with me, nodding to Zoe as I tug Antonia forward quickly.
“Open that door and look ou
t.” Antonia’s man is right behind the door and fuck, he’s been alerted something’s wrong. Zoe nods, her sig now chest high, and opens the door. I push Antonia through in front of us, hoping to stall her boyfriend, then follow suit.
Predictably, the man’s lunges himself at us, but she quickly dodges his advances with a duck, wraps her arms around his chest, and yanks him back. He’s burly but she’s nimble so she quickly gains ground. He stumbles, so she knees his back, making him go sprawling. Antonia’s made a run for the door, but I’m faster. I dive after her, grabbing her arm just before she yanks the door open. She screams and pulls, trying to get away, but I hold her fast, tug her into my chest and wrap my arms around her. I restrain her and eye Zoe. She’s got one knee on the big bear of a man on the floor in front of her. He’s pinned in place, and she’s panting, but everyone seems otherwise unharmed.
“We’re not here to hurt you,” Zoe says, cutting her eyes to the woman I’m holding in my grasp. “But we need answers.”
“Fine,” Antonia says. “Let me sit, and I’ll tell you everything.”
With my left hand, I remove cuffs from my pocket, push her out in front of me, and snap them on her wrists. I slide my finger underneath the metal, making sure she’s got enough room to be comfortable. “Sit,” I tell her. I help her slide into a chair by a small circular table. I nod to Zoe, giving her the green light to take over.
She cuffs the man on the floor, then helps him to his feet. “Same. We’re not here to hurt you. But we need answers.”
He nods, and Zoe leads him to the seat beside his wife.
Zoe stands in front of them, hands planted on her hips, and angles her body so she blocks the exit. Her eyes go straight to Antonia. “Your name is Antonia Zandetti. Your former husband was murdered, his body found in the Central Park Lake. You know who killed him and why,” she says.
“How did you find me?” Antonia asks, her face pained and pale, despite her dark olive complexion.
“That’s inconsequential at this stage,” Zoe insists. “Our time is limited. Those who killed your husband came after me in my own home. I was forced to go into hiding when I found out information involving Officer Ben Hoffman.” She looks carefully at Antonia, whose eyes widen with recognition. “We need you to tell us what you know, so that we can track down every single guilty accomplice affiliated with Hoffman and Malloy.”
