Broken

by Rebecca Zanetti

  He dropped his mouth to her bare shoulder. “Look around and tell me when nobody is watching us.” His breath brushed her skin, and she shivered.

  Concentrate, damn it. Nobody seemed to be paying attention to them, most people watching two women dance together, removing clothing as they did so. “Um, now would probably be a good time.” Her voice came out garbled.

  “Okay.” Swift as a thought, he ducked beneath the rope, grabbed her hand, and tugged her through to another hallway. “My guess is the master bedroom is the far door, and this first one is an office.” Wolfe twisted the knob, shoved open the door, and yanked her inside.

  It had all happened so quickly.

  He flicked a light switch to reveal a gentleman’s study, complete with cherrywood desk, cigar area, and trophies on a shelf.

  She headed for the trophies. “Bowling championships?” Not in a million years would she have considered Trentington a bowler. “Interesting.”

  Wolfe moved to the desk, pulling out drawers. The thump of the music from the living room rattled a snow globe on the desk. “Check out the file drawers in the credenza.”

  She pulled off her mask, dropping down to tug open drawers. The first two opened easily, and she looked through them, only finding Trentington’s business records. The third drawer was locked. “Bingo.” She ducked down more and inspected the lock, biting her lip.

  Wolfe reached her in a second, crouching with a bent paperclip. “Let me.” Quick movements had the drawer opening.

  Dana breathed, reaching for the neatly labeled manila files. “Here’s yours.”

  “Here’s Albert’s, also known as Burt or Clarke.” Wolfe drew it out and opened it, angling his watch toward the pages and pressing the side of it.

  Dana leaned in to see better. “Is that a camera?”

  “Yep. Agent Frost got it for me. She’s got a talent with gadgets. Works with us sometimes when HDD lets her.” He flipped pages, quickly taking pictures.

  Dana brushed through the files, not feeling jealous of the woman with the cool name who Wolfe thought was talented. Nope. Not at all. “I don’t see a membership list here.” Shoot. They needed that.

  “Figures.” He was quick and efficient with the watch, and soon they had everything.

  She replaced all the files and stood, quietly shutting the drawer.

  He drew off his mask. “Okay. Let’s get out—”

  The door started to open.

  Strong hands grabbed her hips, and Wolfe lifted her, pivoted, and planted her butt on the desk. He grasped her neck, pressed his hips between her thighs and moved in. Wild and commanding, he kissed her, going deep and sure. Desire blasted her, and she grabbed his shirt for balance, kissing him back and closing her eyes.

  He took her over, plain and simple. Electricity arced between her nerves, sending her senses spiraling. There was only Wolfe and his mouth on her, his hands on her. All of him over her.

  A throat cleared.

  Wolfe pulled away, his hands remaining tight on her hips, and looked over his shoulder. “We’re busy.”

  Dana couldn’t breathe. Her body felt pliable and needy. The desk was cool beneath her nearly bare butt, and her thighs were warm on either side of his legs. She blew out air, trying to calm her rioting heart, embarrassed by her very vulnerable position.

  “This isn’t a playroom,” Trentington said, his voice hard.

  Wolfe tugged her up and partially turned, finally releasing her. “Sorry. Office fantasy, and the one upstairs was occupied.”

  Trentington looked around the room. “The rope should’ve been your first clue.” Suspicion darkened his eyes.

  “Sorry,” Wolfe repeated, reaching to help Dana off the desk and pulling her mask back down to shield her features.

  She wobbled for a moment and then took his hand, trying to slow her breathing so her breasts didn’t just pop over the top of the corset. So much for their one night of sex taking the edge off this unreal desire for him.

  “It’s midnight and time for a toast.” Trentington moved back. “Get out of my office.”

  “Sure thing,” Wolfe said cheerfully, leading Dana out and ducking them beneath the rope, his mask back in place. They reached the living area, where the music had softened to light jazz. The room was packed, with people spilling into the kitchen area and up the stairway.

  A woman in pasties handed them champagne glasses before handing one to Trentington, who emerged next to Wolfe.

  Another woman, also in pasties, followed and poured champagne into their glasses before moving through the crowd. Trentington lifted his glass. “To all of our friends. May our nights be filled with fun, pleasure, and consensual kinkiness. To Captive.”

  “To Captive,” the crowd said, turning and clinking glasses.

  Wolfe clinked her glass and then Trentington did the same. Dana took a drink. Whoa. Delicious and definitely the good stuff. She took another drink as Wolfe did the same, sipping and looking around the gathering for any sort of clue for who’d shot Albert Nelson. Another woman in bright pink pasties collected glasses on a tray that looked like a shield.

  Then the crowd started to chant Trentington’s name.

  He rolled his eyes, grinned, and headed for a grand piano in the far corner. “It’s good luck to dance to our song,” he tossed over his shoulder, his eyes still unpleased.

  “Then we’ll dance.” Wolfe grasped her hip and swung her around. He leaned down, his mouth near her ear. “Dance with me, and I’ll maneuver us toward the doorway.”

  She nodded and leaned into him, reminding herself this was a job. Her body didn’t care. Her bare thighs brushed his, and her nearly bare chest rubbed against his rock hard one. Maybe they should try to burn the edge off the attraction with just one more night. Why not? She closed her eyes and gave in to the feeling, trusting him to get them across the room.

  The bodies were packed close together as Trentington started to play and sing with a surprisingly good baritone. The song was a melody with heart and humor, and she let it take her away for a brief time.

  That song turned into a wilder one, and then another, and they were almost at the door. It had taken nearly half an hour, but she didn’t care. Life was good.

  She leaned back and focused, surprised at the clarity of colors all around her. “Oh, Wolfe. It’s all so beautiful.”

  “Yeah.” His knuckles rubbed across her cheekbone. “You’re beautiful. You glow.”

  The words touched her as deeply as his gentle movements. In the back of her mind, way back, an alarm clanged. But the splendor of the newest song dug deep inside her, making her one with music and with Wolfe and with the world at large.

  Life was perfect. She wanted him again. Now.

  He took her hand. “Let’s get out of here. Life is beautiful.”

  Yeah, it was. The warning alarm disappeared, chased away by a feeling of perfection. “I want you,” she whispered, needing him, almost frantic but not understanding why.

  “You’ve got me.” He led the way through the door into the stunningly magical darkness of the night.

  Chapter Fifteen

  A pounding on the door awoke Wolfe, and he sat up in bed, his head spinning. “Shut the hell up,” he slurred, looking frantically around. Where was he? Where was his gun? He shook his head just as the door burst open, and Malcolm West flew through, his hands up and ready to fight.

  He stopped cold, looked at Wolfe, and then glanced to the side. “Oh, shit. Sorry.”

  Kat tiptoed in behind him, rubbing against his ankles.

  Huh? Wolfe frowned and then glanced sideways to see Dana sleepily sitting up on the bed. The covers dropped to reveal bare breasts, and she yelped, tugging up the comforter. Light bruises were visible on her biceps.

  Confusion clouded her eyes and her hair was wild around her face. She’d left pink streaks on the pillow, but plenty remained in her hair. “Wh-what happened?”

  A pit opened up in his gut. His jaw felt like he’d been punched several time
s, and the room kept spinning. He pressed his fingers against his eyes, trying to catch a thought. He was in his bed, with a naked Dana, and his body hurt. He glanced down at scratches on his arm. “What the fuck?”

  Mal cleared his throat. “Sorry. You guys must’ve tied one on. I saw the weird car in the driveway, checked it out, and noticed it had been hot-wired.”

  Wolfe coughed, his lungs protesting. “What car? A BMW?”

  “No. Old Chevy,” Mal said, frowning. “What’s going on?”

  Wolfe stretched his legs beneath the sheet, not surprised to find himself buck naked. The room smelled like sex. “We need a minute, Mal.”

  “Sure.” Mal turned to go, plucking up the kitten. “We’ll be in the living room.” The door closed softly behind him, hanging haphazardly.

  Wolfe wanted to puke. He sucked deep for fresh air and partially turned. “What do you remember?”

  She swallowed, too pale for his liking. “Um, not much? We were at the party, found the files, and started dancing?”

  Images, more like snapshots, filtered through his mind, but it was like trying to catch mist. Images of Dana over him, under him, all over him. The scent of her, her laughing, her smiling.

  Her green eyes were huge and bewildered in her pale face. “I don’t understand.”

  He had to ask. “Did we . . . I mean?”

  She bit her lip and nodded. “Yeah. Definitely.”

  That’s what he’d thought. He reached for the phone on his nightstand and speed-dialed Force.

  “Force,” Angus answered.

  Wolfe cleared his throat. “Can you get a drug test done unofficially? I don’t want it in our medical records, but I need to know what Dana and I were drugged with last night.” It had to have been in the champagne, damn it.

  Dana gasped.

  Silence came over the line. “You were drugged?” Force finally asked.

  “Had to be. Can only remember snapshots of what happened and have no idea how we got home. Except I apparently hot-wired a car and somehow drove.” Now that his head was clearing, fury and guilt started to build, making his ribs feel like they were about to burst wide open.

  “Yeah. I can make it happen. I’ll be there in half an hour,” Force said, disengaging the call.

  Wolfe set the phone gently down to keep from ripping it completely apart. “I’m sorry.”

  Her knuckles were white on the sheet as she held it against her breasts. “You think we were drugged.”

  He nodded. “Yeah.” This was his fault. “You have bruises on your arms, probably from me. Where else are you bruised?” His voice emerged garbled and gritty as he wrestled with the rage beginning to consume him. The idea that he’d hurt her tore him in two.

  Dana pushed her hair away from her face, leaning back to stare at his shoulders. “Um, it looks like I scratched you. A lot.”

  His stomach lurched. “You were probably fighting back.” God. Had she been willing?

  She frowned. “Um, I don’t think so. I do remember willingly taking your pants off.” She gently reached out to touch his arm.

  He flinched. How could she even sit next to him? “I’m so sorry,” he repeated.

  “No.” She tightened her hold. “Listen. We were both drugged, it seems. Even drugged, I don’t think you’d do anything to harm me.” She sighed. “Wolfe. I remember feeling euphoric and in love with the entire universe. I wanted another night with you. You were the same.”

  Yeah, he did remember the sky sparkling at him. He shifted his legs, and pain flared along his thigh. Gingerly angling to the side, he lifted the covers and looked down. “Oh.”

  “What?” She didn’t try to look.

  “Nothing.” He settled back down, trying to keep his hands from closing into fists.

  “Wolfe,” she said, turning more fully toward him.

  He scratched his chin. “You, ah, bit my thigh.” He might wear the mark forever, since she’d broken the skin. Images flowed through him of her taking him in her mouth, humming happily, fully engaged.

  “Oh.” She blushed. “Yeah. I kind of remember that. Sort of.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sure I was willing.”

  His head snapped back. “We were drugged. Neither of us were willing, and I promise you I’ll rip the fucking heads off of whoever did this.”

  For the first time that morning, she looked scared instead of confused.

  He immediately dialed it back. “It’s okay, Dana. I’ll make it okay.” He had no clue how he would do that.

  She inched from the bed, taking the sheet with her and standing. “I, ah, am going to take a shower.”

  “Wait.” He held up a hand. “In case you want to, um, have a kit done.”

  She blinked. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because you weren’t in any state to consent. You should have evidence in case you want to file suit against me.” Of course, he’d just confess if she wanted.

  Her brows drew down. “You need to knock it off.”

  What the heck? “Huh?”

  “We were both drugged, both participated, and that’s the end of it.” She looked small and vulnerable with the sheet wrapped around her body. “If you’re not filing suit, neither am I.” She sighed. “Truth be told, I would’ve not only consented but probably initiated something tonight, even if we hadn’t been drugged.”

  “That doesn’t matter. Somebody drugged us, and that’s criminal,” he reminded her, feeling it to his gut.

  “I know.” She turned for the bathroom, pausing at the doorway, not facing him. “Unlike the other night, I don’t see any evidence of condoms. Um, I’m clean. Had a checkup last month and haven’t been with anybody for eons.”

  “Ditto,” he responded. “Totally clean.” Another thought occurred to him, and his chest pounded. “Are you, well, on . . .”

  “No. My mom beat breast cancer in her early forties, and the doctors have advised me to stay away from hormones just in case. I’m not on the pill or any other form of birth control.” She moved into the bathroom and shut the door.

  * * *

  Dana sat at Wolfe’s kitchen table, thumbing through Candy’s notebook, once again. “Maybe ‘dialysis’ means some sort of corporate espionage? Theft?” The symbols and weird words kept blurring in front of her eyes, and the over-the-counter painkiller wasn’t working on her headache. She’d slept with Wolfe the night before and could only remember bits and pieces.

  Worse yet, he was like a thundercloud—full of anger and barely contained violence, pacing back and forth in the living room. He’d showered as well and dressed in his usual jeans and faded T-shirt, his wet hair a little spiky.

  Even though she trusted him, she was still feeling vulnerable after being drugged. She remembered making the move with Wolfe, and images of her participating with him, but everything was so fuzzy. Whoever had drugged them would pay, for sure.

  The back slider opened, and Malcolm delivered a couple of sandwiches. “Pippa made extra for lunch.” His sharp gaze took them both in. “How are you two doing?”

  “Fucking great,” Wolfe growled, peering out the front window.

  “Dana?” Malcolm asked, setting the plate down.

  The smell of fresh turkey wafted closer. “I’m fine,” she said, lying only a little.

  “Good. What can I do?” Mal asked.

  Wolfe stopped moving. “Would you mind scrubbing down the Chevy and getting rid of it? Leave it somewhere it’ll be found, but stay away from cameras.”

  Mal’s expression smoothed out. “Love to. I’ll take care of it.” He was gone within a second, making a quick exit.

  The kitten jumped onto Dana’s lap and snuggled in with a soft purr.

  “Finally.” Wolfe let the curtains drop and yanked the door open.

  Roscoe was the first through the door, making a beeline for Dana to scratch his ears. She leaned over and petted the pooch, wanting all of a sudden to bury her face in his fur. She cleared her throat.

  Angus followed, along with th
e British guy and then a gnarled bald man, around sixty years old, wearing a white lab coat and holding an old-fashioned doctor’s bag.

  “Ah, shit,” Wolfe muttered, slamming the door. “You brought Doctor Crazy?”

  “You said to keep it quiet,” Angus replied, moving toward Dana and halting a few feet away. “Are you all right?” Concern glowed in his deep green eyes.

  She forced a smile, trying not to freak out any more than necessary. Nope. “I’m fine. Wolfe is blaming himself, and he needs to stop it right now.”

  Angus sighed. “This is Dr. Georgetown, and he often does work off the books for us.”

  The doctor gave a half bow. “Happy to be of service.” He shoved wire spectacles up his nose. “Angus filled me in on the way here, even though the British chap drives like a bat out of, well, heck.”

  Jethro eyed the sandwiches. “It’s not my fault Force can’t find his truck and you all needed a ride.”

  Angus flushed. “My truck is in the shop.”

  “Uh-huh,” Jethro returned.

  “You can have my sandwich—I’m not hungry,” Dana said, nudging the plate toward him.

  Jethro dropped into the adjacent seat. “Perhaps we could split it.” He neatly tore it in two and leaned to the side. “What were your symptoms?”

  “Euphoria, arousal, and then missing memory,” Dana said, accepting the other half.

  “Hmmm.” Dr. Georgetown set his bag down on the table. “We’ll do a blood test and not worry about urine since there should still be time to get everything we need from your blood. I’m dating the medical director of Lambert Hospital, and he’s a board-certified pathologist. I’m sure he’ll do us this favor since you were both dosed.” He drew out a syringe and several vials. “Any other symptoms?”

  Wolfe leaned against the fridge in an obvious attempt to appear casual. “Nausea and an aching jaw.”

  The doctor pushed his spectacles back up his nose. “Aching jaw? Interesting. With the euphoria, I was guessing GHB, but with the jaw aching, it’d be MDMA.”

  Dana held out her arm after making sure the syringe had been in its original wrapper. “I don’t know what those are.”