Conviction

by Jane Henry

  “Brax!” I shout, trying to get his attention. He reels his head to look at me. I jerk my head toward the bedside table, where he houses his cuffs and ropes. He gets me, and with a quick nod, opens the drawer. He removes a pair of gleaming silver cuffs and tosses a pair to me, before he snaps the second pair on the guy he’s restrained.

  He grins at me across the room, one eye swollen shut, his lip split wide open, and it strikes me then how this whole situation fits us. I saved him and he saved me. We’re bloodied and bruised, but survivors, the two of us. We’ll see justice served, and we won’t give up. We’ll do it together.

  “We convict these two for breaking and entering and assault and battery first,” he says, picking up his phone. “I’m calling Zack.”

  I nod. “Got the call from our contact this morning.” I grin at him. “All’s a go.” We have everything we need.

  He grins at me, warming my chest like sun breaking through clouds. “We do.”

  I know exactly what he means.

  Chapter 15

  Brax

  “No more fucking pain meds.” Zoe’s jaw is clenched and she’s looking at the doctor as if he just suggested she cut off her arm. His gaze swings to mine. The guy looks like he’s barely out of high school, clean-shaven and clean-cut, wearing small round glasses perched on his nose and a pinched expression. He’s about six inches shorter than I am and needs to look up to speak to me.

  “She needs pain meds,” he says. I find it amusing he wants me to make her take them. I fucking love her defiance. Hell, I’m practically getting hard just watching her spar with him.

  I nod, my arms crossed on my chest as I watch her. “Why does she need them?”

  We’ve been here for four days, and in lockdown in intensive care for the first four days. That had nothing to do with her injury, which is fairly minor, a simple graze of the bullet that stung but didn’t injure. Zack and I wanted to be sure she was safe, and ICU was a better option than even a private room. Security monitored her door as well.

  Three days later, Zack and his team recovered the information from Mona Kingsley, and in an epic takedown that made the local news, the chief of police and Hoffman have been arrested, and even Malloy is now being held without bail. I wanted Zoe safe, so the ICU it was.

  “Gunshot wound victims who spent time in the ICU will frequently need pain meds to aid in recovery,” he says, exhaling an exasperated breath.

  “That’s great for them,” Zoe says. “I don’t want them.”

  She isn’t looking at him but me, though, as she throws off her covers. “And I’ve waited three hours for my discharge papers. Can we get that moving?”

  He looks at me again. He was here the other night when she refused to eat her dinner and I pretty much dommed her into doing what she’s told. She’s not the most cooperative of patients. She wants to be home, back to work, and ready to take on whatever she needs to, and is tired of being holed up in this place. If I think she needs to behave, I’m fine with making her. Hell, I crave it. But now isn’t one of those times.

  I showed her triumphantly the news reports of the arrests that were made, and she even received a sweet personal letter from Mona. But she shook her head. She isn’t satisfied to sit around and let others do what she thinks is her work.

  “If she doesn’t need pain meds, she won’t take them,” I say to the doctor. “Zoe can handle herself and is smart enough to know if she needs to resort to meds. I won’t make her.”

  He frowns. Finally, he blows out a breath. “Fine. I’ll send the nurse in with your paperwork.” He shuffles his papers and goes on his way.

  “Honest to God,” she mutters. “You’d think I was refusing something important.”

  I pull up a chair next to her and sit down heavily. “Some would argue that is important, Zoe.”

  She looks into my eyes and she isn’t angry anymore but pleading. “It’s... look, I don’t like how I feel on them. I don’t like how they mess with my brain, you know? I’m not even sure that makes sense, but I feel less in control of myself when I’m on them, and I don’t like that.”

  I can understand that. Nodding, I reach for her hand. “Fair enough. I understand that totally. So, no pain meds, but you’ll promise me that you won’t let your pride get in the way of you taking care of yourself.” I give her the stern look that usually squelches the storm in her eyes. “Deal?”

  “Deal.” She smiles, her face brightening, and my heart gives a little twist.

  I want to say something corny and sappy like, “Where have you been all my life?” but Zoe doesn’t dig sappy, and it isn’t me anyway. Instead, I reach for her hand and squeeze. She takes my larger hand in hers, holds it up to her chest, and squeezes back. Sometimes words aren’t really necessary anyhow.

  A short while later, she’s walking out of the hospital with me. The superficial bullet wound she sustained patched up easily. She’s got a crutch for now, until she’s comfortable enough to bear weight on her injured leg, but I know she’ll ditch it within days.

  “I can’t believe I’m really free,” she murmurs to me. “Hoffman gone. Malloy. All of them, on his payroll. And all for what? A little drug money?” She shakes her head. “It’s disgusting.”

  “I know.” I reach for her hand and take it in mine, enjoying the feel of her warm skin. She doesn’t say anything, and I wonder what she’s thinking. The two of us have been thrown together in a crazy, intense situation beyond our control. And where are we now?

  “You ready to go back to your place?” I ask, leading her to the passenger side of my car while I hit the unlock button.

  “Hell yes,” she says. “I cannot wait to get back and have some privacy again,” she says. “Eat in my own kitchen. Sleep in my own bed.” She pauses and turns to me. “Can you help me get my things, though, from Verge?” My stomach dips at the thought of all her things no longer taking up space in my private room at Verge and her retreating. It means the end of something that we only just began.

  I need to make a move.

  “Yeah, of course,” I say. “I’ll help you get all your stuff, under one condition.”

  I usher her into the passenger side of my car then walk to my side and slide into the driver’s seat.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. You have to promise you’ll come back with me to Verge at some point. As in, I take you as my guest,” I say to her, turning to see how she takes this news. “Like a date. In fact, I want that to happen this weekend. Sound good?”

  She flushes a faint pink, and her eyes warm. “Yeah,” she says. “I’d like that a lot. Actually, I was sort of hoping you’d ask. It almost got to the point where it felt like a second home.” Grinning, she holds up a finger. “Almost.”

  We sit in comfortable silence while I drive her to Verge. After a while, she pipes up, her voice softer than usual.

  “So. Brax?”

  I look at her briefly and nod, my mind a mile away. In a few weeks, Devin has her ballet recital, I got another call from Myers, and I’m on for dungeon monitor at Verge tonight.

  “Yes?”

  “Now that the people who were after me are behind bars, I want to know. Where does that leave us?” Her voice shakes a little, which surprises me. The entire time, during this whole damn ordeal, she kept her shit together. Her voice didn’t waver, and she never shed a tear. But now, here we are at a crossroads, and she needs to know where this leaves us. Pride swells in my chest, knowing she wouldn’t have asked me if this didn’t mean something to her.

  If I didn’t.

  But there’s one thing she needs to know.

  I’m not letting her go.

  I don’t care if it takes months or years, I’m not giving up until she knows that she’s mine. I’ll tell her now, and I’ll tell her tomorrow. I’ll tell her when she wakes up in the morning and when she goes to bed at night. She’ll hear it in my words and see it in my eyes and feel it in my touch, until the conviction runs through her like blood runs through her vein
s.

  Zoe MacKay fucking belongs to me.

  “Where does this leave us?” I ask. “It’s taking everything I have not to take you into Verge so I can claim you. Mark you. Keep you where I can watch you every second of the day. If you can’t handle that, sweetheart, we’re gonna have to have a talk.”

  The corner of her lips twitches up. “Yes,” she says softly, then her voice rises in pitch and she turns to face me. “Yes. Forget taking me home. I want to go to Verge now.”

  Though she amuses the hell out of me, we need to establish some ground rules.

  “Zoe.” She sobers and tenses at the deeper sound of my voice. Good. She’s learning.

  “Yes?”

  “If you’re with me, we have to have an understanding.” She’s a multi-faceted enigma, a beautiful, heartbreaking meld of past, present, and future, intricately woven with needs I yearn to fill. She longs for the empathy and companionship of a friend, the protection and guidance of a dom, the thrill and adoration of a lover.

  I’ll be that man.

  “Yes?” she repeats.

  My voice is hoarse, roughened by the eagerness that claims me. “For starters, that would be a yes, sir.”

  Her answer will pave the way for me. Can she handle my demands? Trust me enough to yield to me?

  Squirming in her seat, she leans over to me as I pull on the road that takes us to Verge. Will she contradict me? Change her mind? Tell me she needs to think things through?

  But no. I cruise to a stop at a red light and swing my gaze to hers. Lips parted, she nods with eagerness. “Yes, sir.” she whispers. Voice trembling a little as she speaks, her fingertips flutter at her throat. “I have no idea how to do this, you know.”

  My chest swells, the road in front of me wide and open.

  She said yes. That was all I needed: the simple trust and reassurance that she wants this as much as I do.

  “That’s where I come in,” I say, with pride. “I’ll teach you.”

  Chapter 16

  Zoe

  I’m not the girl who gets all mushy around guys. But Brax is different, bearing a sort of protective honesty about him that other people don’t have. When he opens the door to Verge and the bouncer at the door eyes us, Brax grins with me on his arm. “Got my girl with me tonight,” he says, his voice taut with pride.

  His girl.

  Hell, I’m a mess. I don’t have any makeup on, and I’m still wearing the rumpled clothing I changed into before I left the hospital, but I’m grinning like a kid on Christmas.

  He wants me. I’m his.

  His arm skirts around to my back, and he flexes, pulling me close as he leads me to the entryway that ushers us into Verge. “I need to freshen up a bit,” I say, just before we enter the bar area.

  “I can help you with that,” he says, waggling his eyebrows at me. I can’t help but snort, even as heat flares across my chest at the thought of what he’d do to help me.

  “Zoe?” I turn around to see Zack and Beatrice coming in the main door. My jaw drops. Beatrice is dressed in a teeny tiny little number that barely covers her ass, with a pair of fishnets and death-defying platforms. A tight leather collar with silver studs graces her neck. A flush of pink colors her cheeks. Zack is dressed head-to-toe in black, an amused smile playing at his lips. I knew these two were members here, but I’ve never seen them in full attire.

  “Yeah,” I say, turning to them. “I just got released, and Brax brought me here to pick my things up.” I hide a smile that would reveal the truth in my lie. We’re not here for a simple errand. I can’t help but smirk a little at them. “Aren’t you two cute?”

  Brax gives me a playful smack to the ass.

  “Hey, I’m not judging. I might want to borrow those shoes…”

  Beatrice laughs out loud. “Welcome to Verge, Zoe,” she says, her voice rich and warm.

  I know what she means. Even though I’ve been here before, tonight is different. This is the night I walk in here because I want to, not because I’m drunk and horny, or because I’m running from criminals, but because what I need is here. Beatrice swishes past me and gives my arm an intimate squeeze. She leans in and whispers, “Welcome to the family.”

  A lump rises in my throat but I swallow it, as Brax grips my hand.

  Then Zack and Beatrice are gone, absorbed inthe crush of people on the dance floor outside the club.

  He leads me past the bar, and Travis and Tobias greet us as we walk past. I know every detail of this room and the next, but tonight I feel like this is my first time gracing these halls. When we reach the door to his room, I have a strange sense of the familiar and unknown dancing with one another. I know this place. But it almost feels like I’ve never been here before.

  The door swings open, and he ushers me in. When the door shuts behind us with a click of finality, I spin to say something, something snarky and lighthearted to alleviate the building pressure in my chest, but I forget what I’m going to say when his lips meet mine. He bends, hands under my ass, and lifts me. My legs wrap around his torso, my chest up against his, as he carries me to the bed, never breaking the kiss. He drops me on the bed and I bounce a little, but then he’s on me, knees trapping me in, the heat of his gaze pinning me in place. He doesn’t need ropes and cuffs to bind me.

  “Strip,” he says, a hoarse demand that makes me quiver as he pulls the hem of his shirt and yanks his t-shirt right over his head.

  I nod. “Yes, sir.” Jesus, it feels good to call him that. My fingers fumble taking my clothes off, the sounds of zippers and fabric rustling filling the quiet room. When I’m bared to him, he kisses me from my jaw to my neck, holding me so tightly it almost hurts, but I need that possessive touch. Gentle right now would be an insult.

  He runs his hands over my body as if he’s making sure I’m not going to evaporate, a firm pressure of calloused palms that sends a shiver through my body. “Get on your knees,” he orders, his mouth to my ear. “Now.”

  He removes his hands just long enough to give me a motivating smack to the ass. My chest falls to the bed, arms stretched in front of me as he’s taught me, ass in the air. When his body comes down flush against mine, I’m overcome by his scent, musky and heated like burning embers. Fisting my hair in his hand, he yanks my head back, sending a delicious tingle down my spine before he spanks me, a hard smack of his palm on the swell of my ass, igniting the fire only he can quench.

  But tonight, he doesn’t reach for his toys. There are no cuffs or bonds or playthings to bring me to ecstasy. We don’t even speak words, as if the vibration of our voices would somehow invade our privacy. Tonight, we only feel.

  I close my eyes when I feel him press against my slit, clenching the blanket when he thrusts into me, a silent claim of body and will. He fills me, my pussy clenching around him, my breasts swelling on the bed as he pounds a rhythm of brutal pleasure. My need builds, somehow bridging the chasm of pain and pleasure, then he whispers in my ear. “Come with me.” Not for me as he usually says, but with me. He wants to chase our ecstasy as one.

  “Yes,” I breathe, startled to feel dampness on my cheeks. “Yes,” I repeat, my voice cracking under the weight of my hope and fear. Then stars blind my vision and I’m soaring while his grip tightens painfully. He moans his release as I ride the waves of our mutual pleasure. Time loses its meaning. I’m floating, numb with pleasure, weakened beneath him.

  Our breathing slows now, the gentle chorus of my breath with his abating. He pulls out of me and rolls over. We’re sweaty and messy, but I don’t care. I need to feel his arms around me. Snuggling up on his chest, I close my eyes when he holds me tightly. I listen to the soft, steady pounding of his heart beneath my cheek. I’m sore where I was injured and tired from not having enough sleep at the hospital, but I’ve never felt happier in my life.

  “Stay with me,” he says, and I remember when he said that to me before. I know he means more than my physical presence. He won’t let me pull away and hide who I am. He sought me out, found
me, and treasures what he found.

  Not the shiny new, spiffed-up version of me, but the scarred one. The tarnished one. The real me. The one who pushes him away even though the thought of separation kills her. He keeps coming back for me, and hell if I don’t love him for that.

  I take a deep breath and I close my eyes. I can’t bear to look at him when I say what I need to. If he rejects me now, I can’t bear to see it. Finally, with a deep breath, I utter the words I’ve never said to anyone in my life. I’ve never known anyone who deserved them.

  “I love you.”

  I’m startled when he grabs my chin and yanks it up, my eyes flying wide open. “You look at me when you say that,” he growls.

  He won’t let me hide.

  “I love you,” I repeat. Before he responds his lips press mine, a firm but gentle reassurance that tells me what I need to hear.

  Pulling away, he still grips my chin, the fiery blue of his eyes piercing me. “And I love you,” he says, before he breaks out into a grin, revealing that dimple I’ve adored from day one. “You can run but I’ll always catch you.”

  I smile, at peace now that I’ve faced the fear of those words and survived. “For the first time in my life, I don’t want to. There’s no need to run anymore. I’ve found where I needed to go.”

  Epilogue

  Six months later

  Brax

  Tobias whistles, shaking his head as he finishes reading the article I handed to him. “Jesus, man, that was one hell of a first case,” he says with a chuckle. I laugh with him. He’s right. It sure as hell was quite an introduction into the world of private investigation.

  Zoe grins up at me with pride shining in her eyes. We’ve spent every day together since that night I took her home from the hospital. She’s gone back to work, now that Benton and Hoffman are behind bars. Malloy is under arrest, thanks to a top-notch investigation led by Stefan Myers, fueled with information from Mona Kingsley. Antonia Zandetti’s shop on the Cape was closed, and Mona has led us to believe that Antonia and her husband have moved to a place somewhere in the Mediterranean.