by Jane Henry
Antonia swallows, looks at the man sitting beside her, and he nods.
She sighs. “And how do I know to trust you?”
Zoe looks at me. Identifying herself as an officer puts her at risk. What she’s doing isn’t even close to legal, and could cost her her badge, and in this situation, worse. I give her one shake of my head. Don’t do it. Don’t tell her.
She looks away, and for a moment I worry that she’s going to give away her identity. I take a step toward her involuntarily, as if to defend her if she puts herself at risk when she pulls out her phone. She swallows hard, her hands trembling, as she swipes at the screen, and pulls up footage of the car bombing. There was a video that went viral online. I want to tear it from her hand and stop it, but it’s too late. Flames flicker on the screen, news footage scrolling below the photo.
“This was a car bomb yesterday meant for me,” she says. I can tell by the firm yet somewhat strangled sound of her voice this is costing her to divulge this information. “The man injured here was an innocent who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He could’ve been killed.”
Antonia winces and looks away, but Zoe closes the space between them. “If I wanted to hurt you, Antonia, I would have already done it.” To my surprise, it’s her boyfriend that speaks up.
“I’m sick of hiding here, pretending we don’t know anyone or anything.” He looks to Antonia. “If these people can help us put the men who killed Daniel Zandetti behind bars, we need to tell them everything we know.”
Antonia’s gaze swings to Zoe. She straightens her back and lifts her chin up.
“Yes,” she says, her voice rough and husky with emotion. “It’s time.”
Chapter 12
Zoe
We’re heading back to our hotel room; the sun is high at mid-day. It’s breezy and mildly warm, and I want to take a walk. How safe are we, though?
Brax has been on the phone for what seems like hours. First, he called Zack, and told him everything, then he set up an appointment with Myers for when we return. I sit in the passenger seat, listening, digesting. Antonia and her husband have left to stay with Antonia’s sister north of the Cape until a safe house is secured for them by Myers. I’ve promised them we’ll be in touch when we have more intel. Now it’s time to dig.
Antonia confirmed Hoffman’s affiliation with Malloy. The person who knows the final pieces to this puzzle is Mona Kingsley, the investigative reporter who went into hiding. Antonia won’t give us her whereabouts but says that she’ll have her friend contact us.
And that’s what we need. We need to find that woman, get the read on what she knows, and take down those who are after me, Antonia, and whoever else they suspect are threatening their livelihood. My head is spinning as Brax pulls to the side of the road. To my right, just outside my window, waves crash to the shore, the skyline dotted with fluffy white clouds. It’s sunny and bright and so carefree, belying the danger that lurks in the shadows. My mind goes back to the footage I played for Antonia, the flames on the screen so vivid I could almost feel them myself. The memory makes nausea roll in my belly.
Brax hangs up his phone and tosses it on the dash. “Done a good day’s work, officer,” he says with a smirk.
“Yeah? We’re nowhere closer to finding the people behind all this than we were before.” I turn my body away from him but keep my gaze steady. How can he look so amused when people are dead?
Brax shakes his head. “We get the call from Mona, and we pursue that lead. It’s the next course of action here.” He leans back in his chair. “This we know. Your man Hoffman’s on Malloy’s payroll. Malloy is running for president, and his affiliations are less-than kosher. We know Antonia, in league with Kingsley, dug up information on Malloy that threatened their lives. Antonia’s husband went down first. The other two women were assumed missing, but it seems they escaped.”
I nod. “Right.”
“Hoffman’s working with someone who’s paying him, and that someone is paid by Malloy. We also know that.”
“Right.”
“So we’re not exactly in the dark, here,” Brax says with a smile. “We just need to put the pieces together.” He reaches over and tugs my hair. “How are you holding up?”
I pull away. “I’m good.”
Fuck tenderness. I want to find out who’s behind all this. I need to put them behind bars. I need to be able to walk free again. Hell, I need Antonia to be able to walk free again. No one should have to hide, afraid for their lives.
Brax’s phone buzzes, and he grabs it off the dash. He shakes his head. “Just Myers.”
He takes the call. “Yeah, man. No. Can’t give you that information over the phone. I’ll tell you what I know when I see you. Yeah, we found her. You get the names of those involved with Malloy?” He purses his lips and shakes his head. He huffs out a breath. “I’ll tell you as soon as I know.” He shuts off the phone.
He turns to face me, frowning. “Myers is a pain in the ass. Jesus, we need to close in on this.” He looks at me, and there’s nothing but honesty in the blue pools of his eyes before he continues. “I want this behind us, so we can move on to bigger and better things.”
The implication makes my heartbeat stutter. I swallow hard. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
He smiles at me, reaches over, and tugs a lock of my hair, but though he’s teasing there’s a glint in his eye I’m learning to crave. “Like your training.”
Oh hell no. “My training? I’m well trained, sir,” I respond, giving him the sir with an edge that defends my position and hardly defers to him.
Now frowning, he flexes his arms and his nostrils flare. I swallow as his biceps bulge. For a brief moment, I wish that we weren’t here for the reasons we are, that he was mine and I was his. That we were on a vacation. I want that. I want to walk this beach in front of us and welcome the sand between my toes, go buy fish and chips on paper plates at a seafood place, then go back to our hotel room and get to know Brax a little better. Let him know me. End the night curled up in his arms, where I feel safe and comfortable in my own skin.
I swallow. That’s not why we’re here.
He rubs a hand across the stubble on his chin. A siren wails nearby. It’s coming closer, and we’re suddenly both at attention. But then my phone rings, and I look at the screen. The number is private. Looking at Brax, I answer.
“Hello?”
“Zoe McKay?” I nod, even though whoever belongs to the soft, feminine voice on the other end of the line can’t see me.
“Speaking.”
I hear her blow out a breath. “I’m Mona Kingsley. Antonia says you’ve found us, and you’re on Malloy’s trail.”
“Yes,” I say, using my calmest voice to hopefully keep her speaking. “I won’t pose a threat to you.”
She pauses, and I close my eyes. She’s the one we need. Without her, we can’t move forward.
“Even you can’t keep me safe,” she says, the terror in her voice prickling my skin. I sit up in my seat, take the phone from my ear, and silently hit the speaker. I watch Brax as she speaks.
“Mona, I’m here to put the people in pursuit of you behind bars. I’m not here to hurt you. Can you please tell me where I can find you so that we can talk?”
Her voice trembles. “What do you want from me?”
“I know that Senator Malloy has the NYPD in his pocket.” Giving her full transparency is the only way to garner her trust. “I know you and Antonia unearthed incriminating evidence against him, and shortly after that her husband was killed. I know that Malloy is running for president and has people on his payroll that cover his hide. But there are a few more things I need to know before I set into motion the actions that will end the threat to you, Antonia, and hell, all of us.”
There’s a pregnant pause. “Fine,” she whispers. “Set up a private conference call for tomorrow morning to make sure we aren’t tapped, and I’ll tell you what I know.”
“Mona, I—” But she’s already disconnect
ed the call. I look to Brax. His eyes meet mine and he gives one firm nod.
“Let’s go back to the hotel and set this up with Myers. We check out and head to Verge tonight.” I nod, and even try to think up a reason that he’s wrong, so he doesn’t get to call all the shots here, but he makes good sense. “I want to be sure that we’ve got everything in place before we call her, and that we’re safe. You already know why I think Verge is the best place for that.”
A part of me wonders if he wants to get back to Verge because that’s where he’s in his element, where his toys and tools are. Where he’s in utter control. Where it’s safe.
I look at Brax. Even he isn’t safe anymore, and it’s all because of me. It isn’t fair that he’s got to take precautions because I’ve put him at risk. He’s a good man, and he has a daughter. And even if we weren’t in danger, I’m not the kind of girl a man like him should end up with. He needs to be with someone who can help him parent his daughter. Someone who knows all about submission and how to meet those needs of his. Someone without a fucked up past like me.
At a stop light he meets my eyes, probing.
“You’ve got that look in your eyes,” he says.
I shake my head. “You haven’t known me long enough to decide when I have a ‘look in my eyes.’” I toss up air quotes to show him he knows fuck all about this. About me.
“Bullshit,” he says, reaching out to place a firm hand on my knee as he accelerates. Apparently, this is his dom move when we’re driving. “I’m a dom, sweetheart. Doms learn quickly how to read emotion. The best doms use that knowledge to meet the needs of a submissive. If you’re pushing me away, it’s for a reason.”
“Yeah, whatever, Brax.” The thought that he thinks he knows me annoys the fuck out of me.
I shove his hand off my knee, just as we pull into the parking lot of the hotel. His jaw set in a firm line, he allows me to push him off me as we pull into the parking space just outside the entrance where we need to go. “Don’t get out,” he says. “I’ll come around and get you.”
What the hell is this power move? We’ve got shit to do. I remember what he did the night before, though, and how he brought me to surrender. As he comes around to my side of the car, I have a silent internal battle. Defy him, and risk pushing him away? Or defy him, and bring that dom out in him that I crave? Or… do what he says, and see where obedience takes me? My teeth clench as I wrestle with the choices, and just as I’ve decided fuck this, I’m getting out, the passenger door swings open and his large hand is outstretched. Waiting for me. Guiding me out of my seat.
I blink, not sure how this makes me feel, but I’m left with few choices now. Not meeting his eyes, I take his hand. I let him lead me. I let him hold my hand, just for this brief moment, and pretend that I’m his. What does being his mean? Do I give up freedom of choice? Does he tell me what to do, control who I interact with, demand my undivided attention?
I don’t know. And not knowing scares the hell out of me.
When we reach the door to our room, I tug my hand out of his. Surprised, he only blinks at me, then taps the entry key and lets me in. After I step over the threshold of the door, he gives me a sharp slap to the ass, ushering me into the room.
“What the fuck?” I say, heat rising in my chest. “Anyone could’ve seen you. Who the hell do you think—”
He shuts the door behind him with finality, grabs both of my wrists, and pins them to my side, before his mouth crashes down on mine, a hard, punishing kiss that pushes the air right out of my lungs. Flames gallop across my chest and down my belly, a low throb of need pulsing between my thighs. Jesus. God this feels good. He’s solid, resilient, immovable. Here’s a man that takes what he wants without detracting from who I am, what I want. Somehow the loss of control I feel at his mercy is exactly what I need.
Still, I need to push him. I need to flail out against him and know that he can take me on, that he won’t let me push him away. That when I storm against him he won’t wither or fade but stand strong when I need to fight. There’s a beast in me that isn’t placated by kindness, a ferocity that needs to wail and gnash its teeth at times. I won’t hide that part of me from him. And hell, something tells me that even if I tried, he wouldn’t let me.
“Let me fucking go.” Even as I say the words I know I don’t mean them. If he let me go now, I’d lose the respect that he’s earned from me in the past few days. I’d never be able to look at him the same way again. The backs of my knees hit fabric and I fall back on the bed, bouncing upward as he looms over me. My pulse races in my veins, my cheeks flush with the whisper of excitement and energy his strength holds over me.
“Let you go?” he asks, his knees hitting the bed on either side of me, caging me in. “I’m not holding you. Who’s holding you back, Zoe?” His voice is low and controlled, but a muscle ticks in his jaw as his hands fall on either side of me. The heat of his body surrounds me, making my belly dip with sudden arousal. “You’re a fully trained officer. You could have me on the floor and immobile if you wanted me there. I’ve seen you do it.” He leans down to me, his breath tickling the delicate skin at my neck. “Are you telling me no? I need to get you to Verge sooner than later. I’ll teach you that saying no to me gets you punished. Is that what you want?”
“Brax,” I breathe. I close my eyes, my voice trailing off as I whisper. “Jesus, you can’t keep doing this to me.”
“Doing what?” The sound of his voice at my ear makes a delicious shiver run through me. “If you don’t like this, you safeword. You know that.”
I don’t want this to stop. I just need to be able to push back.
I shove my hands up, only to have them trapped and pinned by my sides. I squirm, fighting so hard my abs contract and my arms burn. I push against him, needing to feel how immovable he is. Needing to know he isn’t budging.
Jesus, God, I never met a man like this.
“You want me to stop this?” he flutters kisses along the edge of my jaw, down my neck. “You can make this stop anytime you want to. But you know what, Zoe?” I squirm and push him, but he holds me fast and barely budges. His mouth comes to my ear, drawing the lobe between his teeth, sending a flare of pain along the tender skin. His hot breath skates across my flesh. “I think you like this.”
I can’t push him with my body, but I can push him with my words. “So, what? You have me on my back, pinned down. What does that prove? That you’re stronger? Big fucking deal.” It seems I’ve crossed a line, as the next thing I know he tilts me to my side before whacking my ass with the flat of his palm, once, twice, three times. I squeal but he holds fast.
“Something else to say, little girl?”
I shake my head. The small spanking makes my pulse race, my clit throbbing with need.
“Good.” His sharp voice makes me freeze in place. “You. Stay. Right. There.”
Still focused on the burn of his palm on my ass, I can’t even think about doing anything but listening. I freeze, waiting for his next move. I hear the clink of metal and the whir of a belt through loops, and briefly wonder if he’s going to use his belt again, but then he’s on the bed kneeling again, the leather at my wrists. With a jingle and click, my wrists are fastened above my head. I blink at him in bewilderment, not expecting this move.
“Close your eyes,” he instructs in a low, steady purr. Obediently, I shutter my eyes, welcoming the dark surrender. With my eyes closed and my wrists secured, I focus on the sounds around me. My breathing and his. A car far in the distance honking. The ice machine clinking outside our door, followed by the harsh caw of a crow and a flutter of wings. I’m still fully clothed, and I become aware now of the weight of my jeans, the hem of my t-shirt that’s ridden up hitting my belly.
He starts with gentle fingers on my scalp, the tips drawing through my hair and massaging gentle circles at my temples. I sigh in contentment. Though he’s only touching my head, it’s as if he’s drawing out any stress or residual anger I felt. The tender massage grow
s heated as his fingers entwine in my hair and tug, lifting my head as his mouth comes to my ear.
“Your only job right now is to obey. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
The pull on my hair intensifies. “Try that again.”
“Yes, sir,” I breathe. Yes, sir.
Fabric caresses my eyelids, soft and warm. Gently, he lifts my head and nimbly fastens something behind my head. He’s tying whatever it is so that I’m effectively blindfolded. I try to open my eyes, but I can’t. I’m encased in darkness, held in place with his belt, and at first, I feel a rise of panic. I tug at my wrists and squirm, my head flailing from side to side. His deep voice cuts through the panic like a beacon in the fog.
“Stop.”
I freeze.
His voice softens, stroking my skin as softly as the fabric over my eyes. “Good girl.”
My heart squeezes at that, the gentle praise possibly even more effective at keeping me obedient as his harsher manner.
A warm, sensual tickle at my temple tells me he’s kissing me, his scent enveloping every bit of my senses. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers in a harsh whisper. “So fucking beautiful.” His hands smooth up my sides as if holding me in place. I can’t move away from him, can’t get out of his grasp, held in place underneath him like this.
I like that I can’t.
Nimble fingers are at my waist, unbuckling my jeans. “Slide ‘em off,” he orders. He tugs them down, and I help him by lifting up my ass. He slides the pants past my hips, down my legs, then off one foot at a time until I hear the soft swish of fabric falling to the floor. I gasp when his mouth finds my panty clad pussy, planting a heated kiss at its center. He presses his tongue on the fabric, right where my slit is, the damp fabric clinging to my sensitized skin. When I feel him tugging down my panties, I begin to pant.
