Gathering her courage—she’d come this far—she stepped into the room. The conversation died down immediately as they all turned to stare at the newcomer. She felt like a dragonfly pinned to a board, put on display for all.
A quick glance around the table had her suppressing a groan. Not only did she recognize Dustin, but Jordan Monaghan also sat at the huge round table. She hadn’t seen Jordan since he’d stopped by to run some theories by her. He’d stayed for nearly a half hour, moving the discussion to two other cases before he excused himself.
Both big men started for a second before settling back into their usual unflappable mode. She looked from one to the other, desperately wishing she’d chickened out before arriving at the pub.
Dustin wore a white shirt. His blue tie had angled gold stripes, and his jacket hung over the back of his chair. Like her, he’d come directly from work. Though he’d relaxed his posture, she knew his catlike reflexes were poised and ready, and she recognized the curiosity in his dark blue eyes.
If Keith looked like a bad boy, Dustin claimed the boy-next-door image. Every strand of his light brown hair fell perfectly into place. He was tan and built, and he looked good in a suit.
Jordan, with his long dark hair and his propensity for wearing denim or leather, bucked the dark-suit archetype that most FBI agents embraced. He seemed to have more in common with Kirk than with other law enforcement types.
“Trina, come on in.” Dustin smiled, but the doubt clouding his eyes ruined the effect. He exchanged a nervous glance with Jordan.
Since only six people sat at a table meant for fourteen, plenty of open seats remained. Jordan made the decision for her by pulling out the chair next to him. She sat down and smiled her thanks.
Dustin introduced her to the group. Besides the two men she knew, four women rounded out the crew. Each person there said a little bit about themselves, and then Jordan asked the million-dollar question.
“So Trina, what brings you here tonight?”
She didn’t want to be honest with the whole group. Her request could wait until she had a private moment with Dustin. Kirk had returned. She met his friendly gaze and took a breath. “Curiosity, mostly. I think.”
Dustin nodded. His expression indicated that he was aware of her evasion, but he let her get away with it. He asked someone else another question, which kick-started things. Conversation flowed until the server brought the bills.
Jordan grabbed Trina’s check. Too nervous to eat, she’d had only an iced tea. He flashed a grim smile at her. “We always treat the newbies.”
She wasn’t sure, but his explanation sounded like a dismissal.
One of the women, Andrea, looked up from where she had been rooting round in her purse. First she frowned at Jordan, her brow furrowed in warning. Then she gentled her expression and regarded Katrina. “We’re here the third Wednesday of every month. We hope to see you back next time.”
Katrina tried for an uncommitted nod. People left. She lingered. From the way Dustin and Jordan took their time, she knew they wanted a private word with her. When Jordan’s cell rang and he got the oh-shit-it’s-work expression on his face, Katrina exhaled with relief. She didn’t want to proposition them both. Not at the same time, anyway. If Dustin turned her down, Jordan was next on her list. It wasn’t a very long list, but it was nice to know she had options.
Jordan and Dustin exchanged meaningful glances, and Jordan left. Two of the other ladies lingered, and Katrina got the feeling they wanted more from Dustin than a friend and mentor. Well, so did she.
Dustin picked up his jacket and slung it over his shoulder. “Trina, stick around for a few, will you? I’ll buy you another iced tea.”
Disappointment marred the expression of one of the women, while the other looked a little relieved. They said their farewells and left.
Katrina tried to say something. She knew Dustin had questions. This was probably the best time to proposition him. If he’d asked her to hang back because he had questions about a case, it would derail her courage, and she’d waited so long. Though the meeting had opened her eyes a bit, she wasn’t really a stranger to this world. She was just inexperienced.
He held the door open and then guided her to a booth toward the back of the restaurant. The server came by immediately. Dustin ordered two iced teas, never once taking his gaze from Katrina. That pinned-dragonfly feeling returned.
He didn’t make her wait too long. “Do you want to tell me what you’re really doing here tonight?”
This was it. She could put her card on the table and see how he responded. “I wanted to ask you to train me.”
Other than the twitch of his eyebrow, he didn’t show signs of surprise. “What brought on this sudden interest?” His tone was gentle, and his question lacked judgment.
Not willing to divulge her true goal, she shrugged. “I think I’ve always been a little interested. Now I’m a little more interested.”
He lifted the cardboard coaster and tapped the edge against the table as he thought. “What, exactly, are you interested in?”
She wanted to learn to be the kind of submissive who could make Keith happy. “You’ve trained submissives before.”
“Are you interested in switching, or did you just want to learn the one role?”
There was no way in hell Keith would ever switch. He had constructed his life to have careful control over every tiny detail. “Just subbing, for now.”
She sipped her iced tea, belatedly realizing she hadn’t noticed the return of the server. Nerves were to blame. This wasn’t the easiest conversation in the world to have.
“You’re looking for straight D/s, or did you want bondage too?”
“Yes.” Heat seared her cheeks. How had she not choked on her drink yet? “And impact play.”
He sat back. Those too-knowing eyes seemed to cut through her with laserlike precision. “I’m sorry, Trina. I can’t do it. I’m not into casual play.”
Disappointment sat heavy in her stomach, a thousand pebbles that didn’t belong there. Before she could beg, he continued.
“Plus if I even thought about touching you, your brother and Rossetti would kill me. Dying would seriously damage my career aspirations.” He laughed a little, but his attempt to lighten the mood fell flat.
She grabbed the handle of her purse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you in an awkward position.” Tears of humiliation blurred her vision. Dustin said something else, but she didn’t stay to hear anything beyond his refusal.
This was why she never asked men out. Rejection sucked. She didn’t know where men found the courage. Two strikes and she never wanted to see another man again. She totally preferred when they made the first move.
For the rest of the evening, scenes of her stupidity played in her head. Sound bites of Dustin’s refusal mixed with Keith’s, and even a punishing workout on the elliptical couldn’t chase them away.
* * * *
The next morning, she dragged her ass into work and nearly cried on Aaron’s shoulder when he handed her a caramel macchiato.
“It looks like you’re having a crappy week too.” He pulled a chair closer to her desk. Around them, the office buzzed with the ringing of phones and the bustle of people. Neither of them rated the privacy of an office yet, and the government didn’t see fit to waste money on dividers.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “Not my best.” The details were too painful to say out loud, and she didn’t know where Aaron stood on the issue of BDSM. He was the kind of friend with whom she talked about work and casual topics, never sex or anything too personal.
“Good thing tomorrow is Friday.” He glanced around before leaning closer. “Can we meet up for lunch? I’m due in court in an hour, and I have some more prep to do, so I can’t really talk right now.”
She squeezed his knee. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay. I’m in court all day today too. We could meet at the usual place.”
He grinned. “Ice cream and burgers. My favori
te meal.”
As it happened, she got stuck with a cranky judge and missed lunch. She texted an apology to Aaron and let the matter slip from her mind. If there was anyone in her life who wouldn’t hold something like that against her, it was him. After all, the same judge had done the same thing to him before.
Her day ran late, as expected. She didn’t make it home until nearly eight. The only thing she wanted more than to get out of her hose and heels was something loaded with carbs to eat. She shucked her clothes and slid into a pair of light sweats. Just because she was so tired, she decided to wash her face now instead of later. She scooped up her pile of discarded clothes and scrunched them into a ball. With practiced ease, she shot over her shoulder to the laundry basket.
The routine motion shouldn’t have produced more than a quiet whoosh, so the crash startled her. The end-of-the-day lethargy fled, courtesy of the adrenaline from the shock. She whirled around to find that she’d missed the open basket completely. In fact, the basket wasn’t even there. She’d hit a floor lamp that hadn’t been there when she’d left for work that morning. The force of her throw had caught the long, skinny pole just right, and it now lay across her doorway with her clothes, still wadded, on top of it.
Thunderstruck, she stared at it for a long time before she recognized the lamp. It had been in her guest bedroom. The thing had a lime-green, metallic shade. It had been a housewarming gift, but it wasn’t to her taste, so she’d relegated it to a room she didn’t often visit. She couldn’t remember who had given it to her, and she wondered why her mind barreled in that direction when it should be trying to figure out how it had come to be in her bedroom. And where was her laundry basket?
Without awareness, she moved backward until the far wall halted her progress. She tried to think, to figure out what she should do. Her brain stuttered and got nowhere. She needed to call someone. Thursday night was her parents’ bowling league, so they were busy. Though Malcolm hadn’t quite given up his apartment, he pretty much lived with Darcy in Ann Arbor, a full hour away. M.J., her other big brother, would be busy with his wife and kids, plus he’d never struck her as the protector type. He’d tell her to call the police, but she didn’t want a bunch of strangers swarming around her home, especially if she was just going a little crazy from stress.
She swallowed her pride. Keith lived less than ten minutes away, and he wouldn’t look at her like she was insane if it turned out to be nothing.
Using extreme caution, she crept to her kitchen, grabbed a huge knife and her cell phone, backed into a corner so nobody could come up behind her, and dialed his number.
He picked up immediately. “Hey, Kat.”
“Keith, I…I think someone’s been in my condo.” A small pop drew her attention to the right. It could have been the coils on the refrigerator, but her nerves were too on edge for it not to scare the crap out of her. Beyond that appliance was the hallway to her bedroom and the guest room. Had she left the door to the spare bedroom open or closed the last time she’d been in there? What if the intruder was waiting to attack? She dropped her volume and whispered. “Or they could still be here.”
“Where are you?” His voice took on an urgency she’d rarely heard him use.
“In the kitchen. I have a knife.”
“Stay in the corner where your counters come together so nothing is behind you. I’m in my car right now, and I’m on my way over. Talk to me, Kat. Tell my why you think someone is in your condo.” He spoke a bit harshly, but she needed that to keep her from panicking.
“The lamp from my guest room is now in my bedroom, and I didn’t put it there. I went to toss my clothes in the laundry basket and knocked it over. The laundry basket is gone. It…it just had whites in it. I was going to do my whites tonight.” That had been her intention when she got up in the morning, but she would have let it slide because she was too tired and there were still several pairs of clean underwear in her drawer.
He blew out a breath. “Any chance your mom might have come over and done your laundry? Maybe she moved the lamp?”
While her mother had done things like that in the past, she hadn’t tried to help out unasked in months. “Why would she move that lamp? She didn’t like it either. We both thought the color was ugly.”
“And here I thought you liked green.” He was teasing, trying to set her mind at ease. Not only were they both MSU fans, his eyes were green.
“Not that shade. It doesn’t go with anything.”
Another noise distracted her. This time it didn’t sound so much like the refrigerator. The air-conditioning kicked on, and the soft whirr of the fan filled the silence of her apartment.
“I’m at the door, Kat. It’s locked. Come down and let me in.”
Keeping the knife raised, she inched around the island counter dividing her kitchen from the dining area and hurried down the stairs. Too afraid to stop and check through the peephole, especially if the intruder was still in her condo, she twisted the dead bolt and opened the door.
Keith stood on her porch in the fading evening light. He wore a pair of camouflage cargo shorts and a washed-out blue cotton shirt. Everything about his attire was casual, which made the gun in his hand stand out even more. He adjusted her grip of the knife, changing it so that the blade pointed upward. “Always stab upward. Aim just under the sternum.”
He thrust her back out of the way, closed and locked the front door, and headed up the stairs.
She followed closely. There was no way in hell she was going to let him out of her sight.
He moved carefully and methodically through her rooms, checking any place large enough to hide a person, and all the windows. Nothing seemed out of place, but when they got to her bedroom, her heart stopped cold.
The lamp was gone. Her laundry basket was back in its spot next to the door, and her wadded-up work clothes were on top. She left Keith, rushing to the guest room to see if the lamp was back in that room. It mocked her from the far corner.
“I…I don’t understand.”
Keith gazed at her with an inscrutable expression on his face. He checked the windows in the guest room, and then he returned to her bedroom and checked the slider that led to the small balcony. It wasn’t locked. He looked back at her. “You left it open?”
She shrugged. The balcony overlooked a wooded area. The only thing back there was her neighbor’s front door and patio. She sat out there on nice days and read or worked on her cases. But she had been too busy to use it recently. “I don’t think so. I don’t remember unlocking it.”
He slid the bolt into place. “I’m going to go downstairs and talk to your neighbor. What’s his name?”
“Her name. Mrs. Hill. I don’t think she’s home. She has bridge on Thursday nights with her girlfriends.” Mrs. Hill was approaching eighty, and she had more of a social life than Katrina did.
She followed Keith back into the living room.
“Stay here.” He threw the order over his shoulder as he descended the stairs. “I’ll check the basement.”
In five minutes he returned. She could tell by the expression on his face that he’d found nothing. She sank down onto her sofa, dumbfounded, and set the knife she’d gripped so tightly on her coffee table. She felt stupid.
“I can talk to your other neighbors, see if anyone saw anything.” He gave her a long look. “I want you to lock the door after me. Don’t let anyone in until I get back.”
Katrina shook her head. She was sincerely losing her mind. She had a few vacation days coming. Aaron would help cover her cases while she took some time off and got her mental house in order. “That’s not necessary. I’m sorry I called you over here.”
He knelt on the floor and took her hands between his. The soft affection shining from his eyes nearly undid her. “Kat, you don’t need a reason to call me. I’m not upset with you.”
Jerking her hands free, she jumped to her feet and moved away from him. “You think I made this up to get you over here? I’m not desperate. You�
��re not the only Dom out there, you know. I know what I saw. I know what…” Talking to him was pointless. “Just go. I’ll lock the doors and be more careful.”
For a second he looked like he was going to say something. He opened and closed his mouth. He scratched at the stubble on his jaw. “I could stay. Or if you don’t feel safe, you can pack a bag and stay at my house. I have plenty of room.”
“No.” No way in hell she was going to take his pity. She would approach Jordan next. He was a little scruffier and younger than she liked, but he was a good man and an experienced Dom.
At last Keith nodded and headed for the stairs. “Follow me down. Lock the door after I leave.”
* * * *
Friday dawned stiflingly hot. The still air seemed to ripple with waves of heat. Michigan had a handful of days like this each year. Being outside, just for the walk from the parking garage to her air-conditioned office, made her clothes stick to her body in uncomfortable ways. That irritation joined with her lingering feelings of idiocy from last night. After Keith had left, she’d checked the apartment again. Everything was locked. She ate popcorn for dinner, had ice cream for dessert, and slept with the knife on her bedside table. She briefly considered getting a gun, but then she rejected that idea. What if she came home to find someone in her condo pointing her gun at her?
To make matters worse, she had a string of depositions today. The second person on her schedule was Keith. The third was Dustin. Perhaps she should have consulted her work schedule before humiliating herself with two men in one week.
Keith arrived on time, as always. His dark blue suit emphasized the emerald of his eyes, and she melted inside at how handsome he looked. In all her life she’d never seen a more attractive man. It wasn’t from lack of searching. She’d even scoured online dating sites.
When he saw her, he gave her a warm smile, but she wasn’t able to muster enough positive feeling to return the sentiment. She strived for polite, and she was relative certain she achieved her goal.
“Interview six is open.” She headed in that direction, confident he would follow.
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