Crave (5 page)

“Let me through.”

“No, Linnet. Don’t come back here.” Jonesy held up his hand and tried to herd her back toward the door.

“Get out of my way, Jonesy.”

“I think you should listen to your partner.”

“And I think you should butt out.” She brushed past Jamison, her eyes scanning for what it was that had them so convinced they were doing her a favor by hiding it.

There. Something on the base of the cross written in something red. She peered down at it, her mind not processing what she was seeing. It was blood.
A word written in blood.

Linnet

Her name.

Why was her fucking name at a murder scene?

Because it was meant to be you. All of them. Each and every one.

The trembling in her hands spread, and she had to hold onto something to catch her balance as vertigo hit. Her fingers wrapped around the wood and slipped into something slick.

She jerked her hand away as if it had been burned and looked down at the brownish red goo covering her fingers.

Fuck. She’d just put her hands in the woman’s blood.

“I’m not done with you, bitch.”
His voice crept into her subconscious, and she staggered, the internal blow hitting her like a jab to the guts.

“No!” She pushed away from the cross, wiping the blood on her jeans. She stumbled away and into the waiting arms of Ryder Jamison.

“Hold on. I’ve got you.” He scooped her up and cradled her against his chest.

***

He watched from the tree line and couldn’t believe his good fortune. He’d jumped the gun on this one, his senses on overload with the giddy sensation of his blade carving the girl’s flesh. Seven years he’d searched for the sub that ruined him. Because of her, he had to change his name, his appearance. Those in the BDSM community were too afraid of the police to turn him in. But he was not going to take a chance.

He took great joy in watching his crime scene unfold. This slip into murder had been a mistake. A snap in his carefully planned patience. But it seemed as if fate was working with him for once instead of being forever against him. There she was, being carried out of the scene like it had been her on the cross. It had been, in a way. He punished them all for not being her.

As he watched the redheaded detective being carried out by the virile man with dark hair, he began to plan. She looked different, but even from his vantage point he could see she was his missing sub. Linnet. The girl who got away. Two days. He had two days to claim his prize, and he knew just how to do it. Red hair wasn’t going to save her. Not this time.

Linnet woke in an office. The quiet room filled with throw rugs and colorful blankets and furniture soothed her frazzled senses. As she came back to herself she noted the soft music playing. She sat up and stood on shaking legs, taking in the desk on the other side of the room.

She moved toward the door. Before she could turn the knob it opened, revealing Ryder Jamison in the doorway. His hair was disheveled and his shirt mussed. He looked like he’d been sleeping. Then she looked down at her own clothes and realized she was still in the same ones. The bloody jeans had hardened, and she felt disgusting.

“How long have I been here?”

“I brought you here yesterday afternoon.”

Linnet blinked. Yesterday?

“How are you feeling?”

“Better, thank you.”

He eased inside the doorway, causing her to back up a step. “I think we need to talk.”

“I don’t.” Frustration clawed her insides. “I’ve got to get back to work.” God. If she’d been here since yesterday, Ramkin was going to have her ass on a platter. With toast.

Her stomach growled.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jamison shook his head. “Your captain knows you’re here. He also knows what happened at the scene.”

“What? That his forensics team found bloody scribbles leading to one of his detectives? Like what… oh, starting seven years ago maybe?” She wanted to march into her captain’s office and riffle through every one of the pictures to find it and prove to herself that this was really happening. That the monster lurking under her bed was really coming.

He gave her a look, his eyes hooded.

“Am I off the case?”

“Yes. Please, if you would…” He guided her back inside and shut the door behind them. “Why don’t you sit down, Detective?”

Her fingers curled into a fist, and she wanted to slam it right into his smug face. “What right do you have to keep me here?”

“When your captain asked me to look out for your well-being.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Maybe not, but you do owe it to me to get you back out there, right?”

“I don’t see how I owe you anything right now.”

He said nothing.

Uncomfortable with the silence, Linnet grumbled and crossed her arms. “Fine. What is it you want?”

“You asked me if I was in the lifestyle. I want to understand what made you ask that question.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t owe you any kind of explanation. I don’t know you.  You don’t know me, so get out of my way and let me solve this murder before someone else dies.”

“A few minutes of your time. Then you can leave. Is that fair?” Jamison perched on the edge of his large cherry wood desk, his expression unreadable.

“You have nothing to say that I want to hear.”

Jamison arched an eyebrow, his lips quirking up into a sardonic half smile as if he were amused by her anger. “Are you so sure of that, Detective?”

“Yes. All you people want to do is muddy up the waters. I’m done with what happened to me. What I saw today was more about what’s coming than what’s behind me, and I’m going to face it head on.”

“That’s not what I want to talk about, and you know it.”

She stared at him, anger sliding through her. How dare he try and keep her? But why did he seem safe somehow, and why when she looked in his eyes did she want to run her fingers through his hair. Those lips… God. Could it be him?

R.?

No. He couldn’t be.

But what if he was?

Jamison went over to a small mini fridge and brought her a water. “Here.”

“I. Don’t. Want. It.” She ignored him and made a move toward the door. She had to get out of here before she did something stupid. She’d protected her identity for five years at the club, and she wasn’t going to blow it now over some asshole with a vendetta against brown-haired subs.

Except you know he’s coming for you.

Ryder can help you.

Her uncertainty made her pause.

“He isn’t going to stop looking for you, Linnet. Please let me keep you safe. Like you did me?”

“You aren’t making any sense.” She deliberately didn’t glance in his direction.

“Candy corn.”

Linnet froze, midstride and turned to Jamison. “What did you say?”

“I think you heard me, Detective.” He reached to his desk and picked up a small bowl filled with the orange and yellow candies. “There are so many meanings to a word, don’t you agree?”

She had nothing to say, staring at him with wide eyes. How did he know? The familiar pace of his movements. The steady way he looked at her. His muscles rippling through the sedate button-down shirt. And that gorgeous, graspable hair.

“How did you know?”

He gave her a small smile. “You just told me.”

“No I didn’t.” The feeling she had about him was right. Ryder Jamison
was
R. How had she not realized? Or had she just stubbornly refused not to?

“Ah, but you did. If the word meant nothing to you, then you would have simply disregarded it and left the room. But you didn’t.”

Shit.

She couldn’t do this. Not now.

“I have to go.” Linnet reached for the door knob, and her hand paused.

***

Ryder watched the Detective as she warred with her emotions. Her back to him, her shoulders were stiff and her body language closed. It was her defense, he realized. It had taken him only a few minutes to figure out it was her. The scent of cinnamon gum on her breath, the way she moved, even when she was afraid. She was a woman who took care of others but didn’t let anyone else in to do the same.

“You prefer to leave people at a distance, don’t you, Detective?”

She angled her head back toward him, her eyes sparking. “Excuse me?”

He slid down from his perch on the desk and progressed in her direction. “You keep emotion far, far away so you don’t have to deal with the pain. Tell me. Help me understand exactly what happened today.”

“Didn’t the captain already spill my darkest secrets?” A sheen of tears sparkled in her eyes. “What should I even call you? Jamison? Ryder? R.?”

“It’s a small world, Detective.” He was drawn to her pain, needing more than anything to make it stop.

He tilted her chin up so she met his gaze. “You can call me whatever you wish.” He bent down, and his lips met hers in a crushing kiss. Nothing like the chaste kisses she gave him at Crave, but the soul-bending kind that left his cock straining against his khakis. His instinct was to fold underneath her and let her lead, but this time was different. She needed something else. And he was going to give it to her.

A whimper escaped her lips, and she softened against him. The salty flavor of tears met his lips, and his eyes flew open. She watched him as he kissed her.

“Linnet,” he breathed. “How long will we dance around this?”

“What do you mean?” Her brow scrunched slightly with the question.

“One hour was all it took to know who you were. There are no masks here. No walls to hide behind. Only us. Only now.”

“I…”

“Let me give you what you need.”

Her laugh was bitter. “How the hell would you know what I need?”

Ryder considered her. “To start with, you need to get out of those clothes. You’re covered in blood.”

“And I suppose you have a handy shower just ready for me to climb into?”

He took her hand and led her to a door toward the back of the office. Opening it, he revealed a fully functioning bathroom. “I work from home. Let me take care of you.”

She shook her head. “I can do it.”

“I know you can, but you shouldn’t
have
to.”

He reached out and tugged at her suit jacket, easing the garment from her shoulders. Her eyes were closed tight, her breathing shallow.

“Tell me your safe word, Linnet.”

“Mmmm.” She started, and her eyes flew open. “Marshmallow.”

“Good.” He signaled toward her arms. “Up.”

She complied, raising them up and before she could change her mind, he removed the soiled camisole, flinging it into a heap on the floor.

“Sit, please.” He pointed to a chair, and she sank down, wary.

“Color?”

She smiled. “Green.”

“Good. I see we remember the rules at least. I need your boots, Linnet. It’s the only way the jeans come off.” He smiled at her lightly and tugged, the first boot coming off. She lowered her foot and raised the second one, her eyes never leaving his face.

“You’re a smartass, you know that?”

Good. He wanted her to participate in this… this seduction of her spirit. This was what he’d wanted from the moment she’d first touched him with her presence. The gift of serving her. Of making her happy in small ways.

“Only with people I care about. Now please…”

He divested her of her socks and helped her stand. His finger on the snap of her jeans, he popped it open and slid the zipper down. Her breath caught, and he watched her nipples pebble beneath the thin taupe lace of her bra.

“You have a beautiful body, Linnet.”

“No…” She turned her face down, and her hair spilled around her shoulders, hiding her from view.

“Linnet…” Ryder knelt on the floor, lowering her jeans. He held her hand as she stepped out of them, her dainty feet scrunching in the carpet.

He rose and slid his hands around her waist, letting his fingers trace the scars he knew would be there. Her reaction today only confirmed his suspicions. She had endured so much, and he had waited so long to show her how he truly felt. The bra clasp was no match for him, and as he pulled the lace from her body he bent down and kissed each breast, letting his lips guide him further down to the elastic edge of her matching panties.

He gazed up at her and pressed a kiss to her mound. Her fingers slid through his hair, and she groaned. His fingers slipped between her thighs and edged beneath the elastic and the damp fabric of her panties. His erection was becoming painful, but this was about her. Her acceptance of her beauty as a woman. As a Domme.

“Tell me what you want, Linnet.”

“I want a bath.”

He hooked his fingers into the undergarment and slid the panties down her long legs, once again holding her hand so she could step out of them.

“Good. Come with me.”

***

Ryder led her into the bathroom. The cold tile on her bare feet made her shiver. He noticed and brought her to stand on a small area rug as he bent over and switched on the taps to the bathtub. The tub filled quickly, and he steadied her as she climbed in.

The water was warm and enveloped her like a cocoon as she settled into the tub. “Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

She didn’t understand what was happening here, but in her heart it felt right. To be here with him was a balm to her soul.

He knelt next to the tub. “Let me wash you.”

Heat infused her and she took a deep breath. “I can do it.”

“Let me. Please. Just lay back and let me take care of you.”

A deep sigh reverberated through her and she nodded.

“Good. Lean forward and close your eyes.” She heard a squeak and a sprayer come on, and then it was all about his fingers touching her scalp and running through her hair. The scent of sweet smelling shampoo rent the air as he worked her hair into a lather, and with every smooth motion of his fingers, the ice around her heart began to crack a little bit more.

He rinsed her and began to wash her with a large sponge, exploring her flesh in all of its imperfections. His eyes met hers as he touched her, the warmth in them nearly her undoing.  Every hill and valley, curve and hollow received his ministrations. Tears she didn’t know were inside of her slid down her face. She was humbled by the gift he gave her.