Dungeon Games (2 page)

“You thought about applying for the Rangers, Brighton?” Watts asked, a smile on his face. “Because you have the intimidating look down.”

He flipped the folder open and was assaulted by a look book of horrors. Harris might be an ass, but he understood how to document a crime. He’d taken his time, making a panorama of the victim’s torture. Every knot was documented and then removed to show how the rope had burned into the victim’s skin, forming patterns.

“He knows what he’s doing.” Derek had practiced Shibari for years and studied with a Master. This guy knew what he was doing with ropes and knots, but he was brutal. “He understands the lifestyle, but I would say he’s not a true believer. He plays at it. He’s good with knots, but he’s a Master in the narrowest sense of the word.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Hill asked, his brows in a confused
V
.

Derek tried not to get his back up. He had to be patient with people who didn’t understand the lifestyle. “It means a true Master does what’s right for his submissive. This man is a monster who understands the discipline but ignores the philosophy.”

Harris grinned. “Told you I was right to bring him in.”

Hill rolled his eyes.

The door opened and a bright light blocked the silhouette of a man coming through the doorway. A large man. And then another. Two big-ass dudes were entering what had previously been a nearly empty conference room.

“Is this the right place?” The first shadow asked, though with that accent of his, it came out more like
Is dis ta right place
?

Liam O’Donnell. He would know that accent anywhere. Well, at least he wasn’t the only one who’d been outed as a perv, though O’Donnell worked in the private sector.

Hill made a gesture and the lights suddenly came up. Derek could see the second man. Sean Taggart. Tall, blond, built like a linebacker. It was odd that the six foot three inch former Green Beret’s nickname was Little Tag, but then his older brother dwarfed him. Ian Taggart had been Derek’s commanding officer when he’d been in the Green Berets as well. He knew Big Tag better but was well acquainted with the younger Taggart. Before he’d gotten married and become a chef, Little Tag had worked with his brother at McKay-Taggart, an elite security firm that handled work for corporations, private citizens and—if rumors were true—often did work for the CIA.

Yeah, there was a reason Derek had joined the Dallas Police Department. He’d had enough of the Agency to last a lifetime. He had the scars and the nightmares to prove it. Just thinking about the CIA made a place in his gut ache—the same place where the Taliban had shoved their knives.

“You’re in the right place, Mr. O’Donnell, Mr. Taggart.” Hill offered them seats, his eyes going back to the door. “Are you alone? I extended the invitation to the rest of your team.”

Sean Taggart huffed a little. “Yes, it was such a lovely invite. You know invitations don’t usually come with armed escorts. Alex and Eve are on their way in. They were just a bit behind us.”

Hill’s serious stare told Derek he didn’t appreciate the sarcasm. If he was going to work with McKay-Taggart, he’d better get used to it. Sarcasm was their first language.

O’Donnell sank down into the seat next to him, a frown on his face. “Is this your doing, Brighton? You know I just had a kid. I had to leave Avery and Aidan behind with the Paxon sisters because apparently you can’t do your job properly.”

“Give the guy a break,” Little Tag interjected. “You don’t understand how law enforcement works in Texas. When the Rangers call, you answer.”

“I thought the bloody Rangers were a bad baseball team,” O’Donnell grumbled.

And that was all he needed from the Irishman. “Bite my balls, asshole. Don’t talk about either Rangers that way.” He wouldn’t have anybody insult his team on his home turf. God only knew what the Irishman considered real sports. Probably soccer. “I’m not behind this. I got the same invitation, though the Ranger just came to my desk and hauled me in here.”

Hill took a step forward, moving with the ease of a predator. “I only sent out the escort because I’ve heard Taggart can be a jerk.”

Watts held out a hand. He was obviously the one who tried to smooth the way for his rougher partner. “Difficult. We’d just heard he could be difficult.”

Harris obviously had no worries. He just grinned. “Oh, I’ve heard he’s an enormous ass. I was totally looking forward to meeting him.”

Sean snorted a little. “You have no idea. Unfortunately, you picked a shitty time to decide to need his services. My brother is on assignment in England along with half our crew. I’m sitting in for him for a couple of weeks because we’re short staffed. Li here just had a kid and so did Adam and Jake. Jake pulled the short straw and had to go across the pond with the rest of them. Adam hid in the bathroom when the asshole escort showed up. I’m getting his ass back for that later. If you were trying to get to big brother, you’re going to have to call Tennessee Smith, and good fucking luck with that, man.”

Tennessee Smith hadn’t been Derek’s handler when he’d done the Agency’s dirty work, but he knew the man well enough. Even if Hill could find a number for the CIA agent, there was zero chance that Smith would take the call if he was working overseas.

Hill shook his head. “I’d love to have the big guy, but I’ll settle for what I have. Consider yourself subject experts. Captain, thanks for joining us.”

Shit. Derek’s boss walked in and took a seat. Great. He needed his boss to hear this. The captain simply nodded his way and gave him a quick hello.

The Ranger turned to the door again. “Ah, and there’s the one I really wanted to see. Hello, darlin’.”

“Hello, Clayton,” a smooth feminine voice said. There was a warm welcome in her tone. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Derek turned to see Eve McKay stride into the room. She was a former profiler for the FBI and it looked like she’d done some work for the Rangers as well if her warm greeting for Hill was any indication. She was dressed in a chic business suit, her blonde hair pulled back in a business-like bun. She was followed by her hulking beast of a husband who also served as her Dom. She stopped and allowed him to move in front of her, their ease with each other obvious to everyone in the room.

Eve allowed her husband to go first, allowed him to find a seat for her, allowed him to assess any threats in the room before following him. Eve was a submissive and a proper one at that. She was lovely and controlled and trusted her Dom with her safety and comfort and life.

So unlike Karina. Karina was always the slightest bit messy when she wasn’t in fet wear. She typically wore her hair in a ponytail, the pure raven strands flying out at odd angles. She often didn’t wear makeup and outside the club wouldn’t wear a damn thing on her feet besides those nasty looking sneakers she claimed were comfortable. Eve was the gracious submissive and Karina was a self-described tough chick.

He didn’t do tough chicks. Even when he really fucking wanted to. Even when they called to him. Even when his dick jumped at the sound of her voice.

Nope. He’d done the modern relationship thing. He wouldn’t go there again. It ended in frustration and divorce. He didn’t need another “modern” woman to emasculate him. His wife had done the job quite well.

His ex. Fuck all. Just like that he knew why he was here. “Maia. Maia told you.”

Maia Brighton—because god knew she couldn’t be bothered to change her name after the divorce—was one of the Dallas District Attorney’s Office’s hottest lawyers. In more ways than one. She was damn fine at her job and from what Derek could tell, she’d also slept with most of her bosses. And she was just the type to give up his kinks and those of his friends if she thought it would take her an extra step up the ladder.

Hill nodded shortly. “Harris came up with the idea of bringing in subject experts on this case, Detective. I asked the DA’s office if they knew of any and they were happy to oblige.”

Derek’s boss, Captain Joe Harrigan, leaned forward in his seat. “Derek, the Rangers here have promised to be discreet. As far as anyone knows, you’re going to be working this case because you’ve worked more homicides than anyone else in the division.”

“I’m not going to get my ass kicked for my private life?” He wouldn’t be the first cop to find himself shoved off the force for not toeing the very narrow line.

Joe snorted a little, as did Alex McKay as he slid into his seat after settling Eve into hers. “You’re not the only one with kinks, man,” the captain said. “The chief belongs to a club himself.”

Derek relaxed a little. If the chief had said something to his captain, then everything was cool. He was a good cop. He’d always done his best and had been told he was in line for promotions. Maybe the department wasn’t so rigid. “So you’re looking for BDSM experts because you think the killer is prowling BDSM clubs?”

“All of the women he’s killed have been known submissives in the community. Including the latest.” Hill’s whole face went grave and he glanced at Joe, who nodded. There was a heavy tension permeating the air.

Oh, fuck.
They were holding back on him. He looked between the two men, searching their faces as they held a silent conversation between them that ended with Joe sighing heavily and placing his hand on the folder he’d brought in.

Derek’s stomach took a nose dive.

“Who?” There was only one reason for him to touch that folder like he didn’t want to release it, like there was something sacred in it and the information would change things.

“He killed again, early this morning. It’s why we brought you in so suddenly,” Joe explained.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He stared at the folder like it was a snake that would bite him if he moved even an inch. Very slowly, as though time had turned into a mud pit he had to slog through, Joe slid that folder his way.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this way, Brighton. The latest victim is someone you know,” Hill explained, his deep voice grim. “It’s someone you all know. Apparently she was a regular at that club your brother owns, Sean. Sanctum?”

Sean had gone a little white, his eyes on the folder, too. “Yes.”

“Oh, my god.” Eve reached for her husband, tears already in her eyes.

“Fuck me,” O’Donnell said, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not Jill or Ashley. I just left them.”

All around him they were chattering, but it seemed to come from a distance because his hand was on that folder and his stomach was somewhere in his throat. He was a cop who’d seen the absolute worst things humanity could do both in war and in the civilian sector. He could handle just about anything, but he was going to make a fool of himself if he turned that folder over and saw her in a photograph, her gorgeous blue eyes dead and that skin of hers cold.

Not Karina. Not Karina. Not Karina.

He suddenly wondered who it would be okay to see in that picture and he realized a brutal and nasty truth. Anyone but her. He could handle it being anyone except her. He was friends with the subs at Sanctum. He’d slept with some of them, and he suddenly knew he would toss them all to the wolves if it meant Karina was still breathing. It was perverse because he wasn’t even friends with her. He was never going to be close to her, but he couldn’t stand the thought of never seeing her again.

Not Karina. Not Karina. Not Karina.

He turned over the folder and a golden-haired blonde with blue eyes was staring up at him. He’d seen those blue eyes before, but now there was nothing lighting them. They were flat and empty in death.

“Holy shite,” O’Donnell breathed as he looked over Derek’s shoulder. “I didn’t like the girl, but damn me if I want that to happen to anyone.”

Amanda. Guilt swamped in and yet he couldn’t help but feel a massive wave of relief.
Not Karina. Amanda.
She’d been a junior officer, a first-class bitch, and he’d had a hand in ousting her from Sanctum. Now she was dead, a victim. She was a cop and all he could think about was Karina. He was a pathetic waste. He should feel more for a woman he’d worked with. He’d topped Amanda on many occasions, but deep down it had just been an exchange of need. There hadn’t been a single emotion for her beyond anger when she’d threatened to bring down the club.

Shouldn’t it mean more?

“Officer King was found dead in an alley behind a club in Deep Ellum early this morning,” Joe said in a monotone that let Derek know he was in full-on cop mode. Nothing would touch him until he’d gotten the job done.

That cold professionalism was nothing less than what he owed to his fallen officer.

Derek adopted the same and tried his damnedest to not feel the relief in his gut that Karina was still walking the earth in her atrocious shoes.

Because it didn’t matter. She wasn’t his type and she was kind of a righteous bitch who had it in for him, which was why he wished she would stop looking at him with her doe eyes and stop walking around the club with her big, gorgeous tits hanging out, and wished she would disappear so he could fucking sleep with someone else because he damn straight wasn’t going to sleep with her.

No way. No fucking how.

Professional. He had to stay cool and calm because there was a killer working and he’d come straight into Derek’s world.

“Amanda was no longer a member of Sanctum. We have very strict rules on how submissives enter and leave the club. She would never have been allowed to walk to her vehicle alone. She would have been walked to her car and she would have been asked to call another member of the club when she got safely home. If she hadn’t made the call, someone would have gone looking for her,” Alex McKay explained as Derek ran through the details that made up the end of Amanda’s life.

Strangled with jute rope. He stared at the pictures, recognizing the tortoise-shaped pattern of ropes that crossed her naked flesh. A rope dress. The bastard had used an intricate pattern to truss her up.

“Yes, we think she was in one of the larger clubs, a not so private one. There are two we’ve identified in the DFW area and that’s where we need your help,” Hill explained.