“Can we not mention that, please? It’s embarrassing. I was on duty.”
“You’d also been drugged, kidnapped, tied to a chair for hours, and beaten,” Cap reminded her needlessly. “No one is going to fault you for passing out or for taking a few days off work to recover. Your flight landed less than 24-hours ago, Angie.”
Ignoring all of that, she blurted out, “Is Dan back? I thought I’d pick back up with him, if possible.”
“Yeah, his mother is in rehab here in San Antonio. He wanted her somewhere close, so he moved her. She’s a fighter and will be back on her scooter street racing in no time, he says.”
Her lips twitched, falling short of a smile. “I’m relieved to hear that.” She stood. “I’ll go find him and get out of your hair.”
“Wait, Angie. I’m concerned. You’re quiet, not like your old self. Maybe you should talk to someone.”
“I talked to Val. She gave me some resources, but I’m good. I’d really like to move past it now.”
She kept her features carefully composed under his keen scrutiny. At length, he murmured, “I expect you to come to me with any problems.”
She nodded. “I will, Cap, thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see if Dan’s in the training room this morning.”
She’d made it to the door when he added, “You did great. Went above and beyond what any of us asked for. If not for you, who knows how many more women that psychopath might have killed.”
Above and beyond. Those words made it all come rushing back: T’s mouth and hands on her on the carousel, fucking her against the wall in the service hallway, her foolish mouth blurting out that she loved him. She glanced at Cap and nodded, before whisking out the door.
Above and beyond… if he only knew. She would have laughed if her heart hadn’t been completely annihilated.
Chapter Eighteen
Angie woke up one morning in early fall to realize that days had merged into weeks, which had melded into months, two interminable months to be exact, since she’d returned from L.A. It was hard to believe because the pain was as raw as if it was yesterday. T had tried several more times to clear the air, but she avoided him, only speaking to him if it was work related. Childish, that may very well be, but Angie considered it justified as a means of self-preservation. Fortunately, Cap, who was as intuitive as he was intelligent, didn’t need to be told there was a problem and didn’t assign them further cases together. So, they didn’t run into each other often.
That suited her fine. Her plan to muddle through with her broken heart was to keep it professional, but distant. With her personal life a minefield of pain and regret, her only distraction was work, which Cap threw at her full force.
Originally wanting a career in forensic psychology, Angie had changed her mind when she saw how many child custody and abuse cases mired that field, not to mention treating the offenders in the criminal justice system wasn’t something she wanted to do. She decided her nerves and scruples couldn’t take it and she had switched her major to criminology, still earning a minor in psychology. She had thought to become a profiler, after a few years on the force, but the corruption had disillusioned her. That didn’t mean she didn’t have some of those skills and a bit of a knack for it.
Attributing it to her insightfulness or possibly to her strong analytical skills, or maybe it was simply her unique female perspective, she was called on often by other members of the team to weigh in on other cases. She’d already helped Jonas on a social media stalker case. Angie had quickly keyed in on the culprit, who turned out to be the woman’s creepy ex-boyfriend. With her success, Rick pulled her in on a kidnapping case which had an odd familial twist. From the interviews and evidence provided, Angie narrowed the suspects to include the boy’s deadbeat father. Thought to have been living out of state, he’d been absent from his life for years and had been a long shot. A little digging revealed he’d returned to Texas, living under an assumed name. Further, he needed cash and his ex-wife remarrying a wealthy man provided the perfect opportunity. Most of her own cases ended up being domestic issues, who was cheating on who and where, but she didn’t mind those after murders and kidnappings.
She was still training with Dan several days a week and driving him nuts in the simulator. Utilizing T’s advice, which had helped, she now scored consistently in the low eighties, which was better than the forty percent she started out at. Yet, it still equated to one miss out of every five shots. That miss could be potentially deadly and was not good enough for Dan, Rossi, or to meet her own personal standards. So, afterhours, she could often be found in the simulator, practicing the urban street fight scenario or at home on her new Xbox playing the game Jonas had recommended to improve her instincts, hand-eye coordination, and targeting skills.
One Wednesday evening at about seven, she was leaving the firing range, hurrying to her office to store her gear and change. She was going out tonight, the first time since L.A. and of all places, she was headed back to the club.
Megan and Regan had been hounding her to come back to the club for LBD night, which included dressing to the nines in her sexiest little black dress, sharing laughter and unlimited pitchers of Ben’s signature margaritas with good friends, all while rocking out to Elena and her awesome band. The twins had turned it into a weekly, club wide event. Being something she’d always enjoyed in the past, she was tempted, but she was still avoiding T like the plague, and had regularly declined their invitations not wanting to step foot inside T’s social stomping grounds. She’d finally given in, partially due to the twins unrelenting nagging, but primarily because T was out of town on a case.
She showered and changed in the bathroom that had been allocated solely for her, the only female in the office. That morning, she’d carted in a garment bag with her dress as well as her big weekender bag that was chockfull of enough supplies to do her hair and make-up for a week. At ten before eight, she was ready. Dressed in a chic, but not overtly sexy black dress, she was all set to enjoy girl’s night out. Not interested in meeting any perspective men, not that she’d choose another Dom anyway, T had spoiled that for her, she was doing this for herself and the rejuvenation of her social life.
Pushing all thoughts of the heartbreaker out of her mind, she stepped back and took a last look. She’d lost weight, not necessarily a bad thing, the missing ten pounds had flattened her belly further—though she’d never rock a six pack—as well as defining her cheekbones. The workouts with Dan had also toned and sculpted her upper arms. She was proud of all her hard work, so much that she’d selected her dress specifically because it showed off her new guns. A derringer beside any of the guy’s cannons, she was still pleased with the definition when she flexed.
Scooped in front with spaghetti straps baring all of her shoulders and arms, the dress dipped low in back. That was the extent of its sexiness, however. The skirt, although fitted, came an inch or so below mid-thigh which was conservative for Decadence. It did have a sheer mesh overlay that was shot through with silver threads which caught the light as she moved. In essence, she sparkled. It was eye catching, but not like a walking advertisement for sex. She didn’t want that. What she wanted was to feel good about herself again. She’d accessorized with a turquoise and topaz silver necklace and matching bracelet. Compared to the other women, she’d look like a nun.
At the thought of a nun at a kink club, which would be enough to make her head spin and her habit catch fire, she laughed softly. Then she left the bathroom to stow everything in her office for the night. Head down, she was juggling her bag, purse and keys as she rounded the corner. It all went flying as she slammed into a hard muscled chest. Teetering on four inch heels, she grabbed onto the man’s forearm to keep herself from flying as well.
“Excuse me! I didn’t think anyone was here and wasn’t watching where I was going.” As she apologized, she stared up into the most strikingly handsome face she’d ever seen, also the last one she expected or wanted to see.
“A
ngie, darlin’, are you all right?”
T’s voice, velvet-edged and strong, haunted her dreams. To hear its warm deep tone for real, stirred the longing she foolishly thought she’d conquered.
“I’m fine,” she muttered as she pulled away, stooping to gather her things. He went down too and had her bag and purse scooped up in his big hands before she knew it. His free hand cupped her elbow to help her stand.
“Thank you,” she whispered as she retrieved it all from his grasp and started past him.
“Angie, we can’t go on with you avoiding me this way.”
“I don’t see why not,” she replied, instantly regretting her snappish tone. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go or I’ll be late.”
He didn’t let her go, instead, pulling her around to face him. His eyes swept over her carefully applied makeup and sleek straightened hair, dipping down her body and back up. Lips that could be soft and sensuous or hard and demanding, formed a straight line.
“You’ve got a date?”
“That’s not—”
“With Dano?” he demanded.
That sparked her anger. “Not that it’s any of your business, Dan and I are strictly friends.”
“Not if he has a say in it.”
She ignored that remark. “If you must know, I’m going to the club to see Elena perform.”
“No. It’s open sub night. It’ll be a meat market.”
“That is also none of your concern and not your decision.”
He gripped her arms and pulled her into his chest, the blazing heat of his skin nearly scorched her as he challenged, “What if I make it my concern, little bit?”
She wrenched free and took a step back. “What is wrong with you? You don’t want me, yet you act like an ass at the thought that someone else might. You can’t have it both ways, T.”
He pushed her back against the wall—it seemed he was forever doing that—and she thought she heard him murmur “beautiful” before his mouth, searing hot and demanding, opened over hers, his tongue plunging deep. His hands dove into her hair, holding her still as his hips thrust forward, the hard length of him pressing into her belly.
“Feel that?” he challenged against her lips. “I never said I didn’t want you.”
Her skirt came up the next instant and his hands dove into the back of her panties, cupping her cheeks.
“T,” she breathed. Wanting him for so long, she quickly lost her resolve and melted into him. He responded immediately by lifting her against him. As he did, she lost a shoe. Rather than let her feet dangle awkwardly a foot off the ground, she wrapped her legs around his hips.
His chest anchored her against the wall as his lips found her throat. The rasp of his zipper and the crinkle of a wrapper barely registered, unlike the long fingers pulling the crotch of her panties aside. That definitely penetrated her lust clouded brain. As did the hard thrust of him up inside her. Her head fell back and her mouth opened, thirsty for air as he plunged into her repeatedly. Hard and fast, he took what he wanted and she gave it freely. Reveling in the feel of him inside her, against her, his mouth hungrily gliding across her skin.
She felt her body tighten as he built the need inside her. Her pussy clamped down as her climax neared.
“So hot and tight. I’ve wanted this again so badly, darlin’.” The husky whisper came from deep in his throat as he lifted his head. In his face she read need, as great as her own, but also something more, something powerful and more intense than arousal over a good sex. Before she could decipher what was there, it was gone and his mouth came down, greedily claiming hers again.
She couldn’t think about anything except his body moving against her and inside her, or the hand that slid around in front. Finding the nerve center with his thumb, he went to work, driving her need higher and keeping her there, as if riding the crest of a long wave until inevitably it broke, crashing over her in a rush of pleasure.
It didn’t recede afterward, finding more joy as she felt him tense against her, pumping his hips harder. He shuddered, his head falling forward as he groaned along with his release. The sound a low, deep, sexy rumble in her ear.
After a few slow, indolent thrusts, he stilled against her, motionless except for the rapid rise and fall of his chest. In that instant, she felt him pull away, not physically, but in the way he had in L.A. She could tell before he raised his head and she saw the look on his face.
Frustrated and confused, she gripped his hair and tugged. “Don’t do this again.”
“I told you, Angie. I can’t—”
“You can’t?’ With all her strength, she shoved at his shoulders. Having well over one hundred pounds on her, he didn’t budge. Hurt and anger in equal proportions crept into her voice as she choked back tears. “At least tell me why. You owe me that?”
His eyes burned with regret as he stared down at her. Silent moments dragged on until he lowered his head, whether to kiss her or something else, she’d never know because she jerked her head away.
“Let me go,” she whispered, her voice raw with emotion.
Something must have penetrated, maybe her desperation, or her anguish because he released her and stepped back.
“You have to stop this, T,” she pleaded, as she righted her dress, her misery so acute it was a physical pain. Her voice was a ragged whisper when she continued. “I deserve to be more than a meaningless fuck against the wall.”
In the quiet that followed that verbal blow, she heard him grunt, as if someone had slammed a fist into his gut. She ignored it, knowing from experience it wasn’t what she thought, or hoped it to be.
Holding to the wall, she stepped back into her shoe and bent to collect her bags. Standing, she straightened her shoulders and looked him dead in the eye. She didn’t know how, but she did it even though she wanted to cry for what he was passing up or worse, begging him to love her. Then she told him what she did out of a deep need for self-protection. “Since you don’t want to be a part of it, you’ve got to let me live my life without you in it.” Although it killed her to do so, she walked away, in the end rushing down the hall, slamming through the exit and into the stairwell. As she took the steps at a near run, which wasn’t easy in heels, she gave thanks that he didn’t follow because if he had, she couldn’t have found enough strength to push him away again.
Chapter Nineteen
A fringe benefit of working for Rossi was free club membership, otherwise she’d never be able to afford the exorbitant annual fee. Not that she had any need of it, when she never planned to go beyond the lounge again. But it made check-in for Elena’s show easy. By the time she arrived, she was an hour late and had seriously considered not coming at all, but she decided alcohol and the girls were better medicine than crying pathetically at home over a man who could never be hers.
Been there, done that. And in T’s case, she’d done it far too many times.
As she pushed through the doors, she stood still for a moment while adjusting to the low light of the room. A tall, thickly-muscled, dark haired man walking through the bar made her start with alarm. On second glance, she realized this man was not as tall, and was nowhere near as broad shouldered as T. He also didn’t have the command of the room like T did.
Conceding that she’d been searching him out, she damned him and the control he had over her. An hour after she’d left him, his presence continued to surround her. Her thoughts were consumed by him. She could still feel the heat of his hungry kisses, the grip of his demanding hands in her hair, and his strong but gentle fingers gliding over her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples, and torturing her clit in the same delicious way. And his glorious cock, the length and breadth of which had filled her so completely, beyond that of any man who’d come before him, and left her tingling with an internal ache that she never wanted to fade away.
No. She cut off that train of thought abruptly. Twice now he’d fucked her—might as well call it what it was—both times against a wall, and then walked away leaving
her devastated. It was enough. She knew what she had to do. It wouldn’t be easy. Cap had called it. This was her town. She’d grown up here, her friends and family were here, and it was all that she’d ever known. On the other hand, she’d be a fool to think she could stay, working where he did, having the same set of friends and playing at the club he co-owned. Being smack dab in the center of his world brought nothing except more pain and trouble for her.
It was time to move on. She’d give herself one more night with her girls then tell Cap to make it happen.
Winding through the crowd, she smirked as Elena belted out the perfect song for her situation, Kelly Clarkson’s What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Stronger. Lord! She hoped that was true.
Pulling out a chair at their usual table, the girls’ smiles of greeting disintegrated as they got a glimpse of what she knew was her exceedingly harried expression. Ignoring them for the moment, she saw to priorities and flagged down a waitress. “Tequila shooters, make it two, and keep ‘em coming.”
“Uh-oh.” Lexie was the first to comment. “I recognize that face and the order. Man trouble.”
A nodding, Megan agreed. “I’ve seen that exact look in my own mirror. Talk to us, Ang.”
“Not in the mood, cuz.”
Her drinks arrived. Needing immediate liquid fortification, she salted her hand, licked it off, and downed the shot. While slamming her glass upside down on the table, she picked up a lime slice and sucked it, vigorously.
“Ready now?” Mara asked, eyes wide.
Angie shook her head, thinking two was not going to be enough as she repeated the process with the second shot.
“How about now?” Meg prompted as Angie dropped the second decimated lime onto her cocktail napkin.
What About Love (Club Decadence Book 6) Page 20
