THE FIRST SIN (9 page)

Donovan clenched his fist on the granite table. “But he didn’t overhear any names?”

I pushed my chin-length hair behind my ears in a frustrated movement and some of it swung back against my cheeks. “All we do know is that only one

‘boss man’ was referred to, and that Cabot, Strong, and Tarantino own these clubs.” I pressed a button and the screen vanished. “The three could be in on it together, or it could be just one, maybe two of them. “One of the things Randolph gathered in her intel,” I said, trying not to choke when I said her name, “is that there’s someone higher up. Very high.” I rubbed my hand over my hair. “Even if the man responsible for these girls’ auction is one of the three we’re checking out. There is someone higher up.”

“Any more intel on that?” Donovan asked.

I shook my head. “Randolph couldn’t get a name.” “What’s your plan, Steele?”

Donovan asked with his steady blue gaze focused on me while he tapped the manila folder. “You said you’ve got this op under control.”

Heat crept up my neck. Damnit.

“Everything’s set,” I said. “The group meets on Saturdays. So tomorrow night you’re replacing Perry and infiltrating the inner circle of their private little BDSM club”—I wanted to groan as I added—“with me.”

Donovan nodded as if he’d expected this. “Endicott provided Yeager with our two exclusive invitations, and RED is going to cough up some bucks,” I said.

“The invitations for the inner circle include a twenty-fivethousand-dollar fee once we pass whatever tests there are. Twenty-five grand for each invitation.”

I opened up the file folder and withdrew the two envelopes that had “The Circle” stamped in gold leaf script on the front, and a red wax seal on the back. These two invites already cost us fifty grand to Yeager.”

“I’m assuming you’ve found a way to read what’s on the inside of those sealed envelopes,” Donovan said. “Sure did.” I slid one of the thick, creamy stationery envelopes across the table to Donovan. “In gold leaf on matching stationery, all it says is ‘Bearer is granted one-time entry into the Inner Circle.’”

Donovan nodded but didn’t pick up the envelope. I blew out my breath and leaned back in my chair. “Then it’s our job to pass their inner-circle ‘tests’ to be a part of the group.”

“What tests?” Donovan asked.

“Could be anything to do with kink.” I looked at him.

“Are you up for the challenge?”

“Whatever it takes,” he said.

“So you’ll be the submissive.” I barely held back a laugh.

“And I’ll be the dominatrix who tries to get you as her sub.” Donovan stared me directly in the eyes. “You’ve got it backward.” I bristled as he continued,

“You’re going to be the good little submissive and I’m going to be the Dom who’s going to spank your ass.”

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe.”

I ground my teeth. “This isn’t going to work out. We’ll get Perry to go in with me as we had already planned.” He was going to be a good sub to my Dom.

“Live with it, Steele.” Donovan tapped the invitation.

“It’s you and me, and nothing’s changing that.” He was right, because Oxford would back him on this, not me.

I leaned forward. “Got any bondage gear?”

March 29

Friday evening

Heat flushed my cheeks and my adrenaline was still high after a good softball game in Foley Park with my super, Marty, and some of the neighborhood guys. Marty had snagged me as soon as I stepped foot out of my Cherokee and I couldn’t say no. Our team didn’t win, but we’d come close. Todd, Marty, and Lou had walked me home, and we’d spent the time talking about the promising upcoming season for the Red Sox. It had helped me work off some of the frustration after my less than productive meeting with Oxford. She wasn’t giving up any goods on Donovan nor was she letting me shake him loose. I was going to be up close and personal with Donovan. I had stared down cold-blooded killers, but the thought of Donovan seeing me, touching me, possibly tasting me left me shaking with desire, which frankly was pissing me off. If my reaction was this strong just thinking about it, what would happen when he actually put those strong hands on me or placed those delicious lips anywhere on my body? He would know how to give it to me. So intense, so hard, that I would lose all sense of myself and still end up begging for more. Time for a cold shower and a hot meal.

I was just starting to strip down when my doorbell rang.

“Lexi’s gone,” I called out. “Come back next week.” “Open up, Steele.”

Georgina’s voice was loud, with a snap to it, and that meant trouble.

“What did I do now?” I grumbled as I rearranged my shirt, walked toward the door, and yanked it open. Georgina strode through looking more gorgeous than any woman should be allowed to. Bitch.

But I loved her.

“You look like crap,” she said.

“Where’d you get that?” I checked out a glittery red dress that barely covered her boobs or her backside. “From the Barbie’s-going-out-and-going-down-on-a-Marine store?” “Screw you, Steele.”

“If I swung that way, you’d be the first.”

She propped her hands on her hips and cocked her head so that her dark hair swung over her shoulder as her lips quirked. “Come on, baby. We’ll try it on for size.” “Let’s see.” I looked her up and down. “You’re nearly six feet and I’m five-four.” I batted my eyelashes. “Do I get to be the girl?”

“Five-ten.” She smirked. “You, on the other hand, are lucky if you’re pushing five-four.”

I focused on her balloon boobs, obviously given extra oomph by Victoria’s Secret. “If I poke one will it pop?” Georgina’s snort of laughter didn’t go along with her exotic runway-model features.

I looked over her again. “Does Cal get the honors tonight?” “I dumped dickhead.” A smug expression twisted her lips. “Met a guy at the social after Mass last Saturday.” She glanced down as if she could see through my floor to her apartment before she raised her dark eyes again. “Sweetie is waiting for me now.”

“Good little Italian Catholic girl has someone to take home to Mother.”

She gestured her head toward the kitchen where we usually had our girl chats. “You and I need to talk.” Uh-oh. Wasn’t sure I liked her tone. “I hope this is about our girl’s day tomorrow.”

We pulled out chairs at the kitchen table and I plopped onto mine. She was as graceful as always when she seated herself.

I shoved aside two empty Chinese food cartons as I leaned my elbow on the table. “Okay. What gives?” “Rumors are flying around RED that you forgot the meaning of low profile. So why don’t you fill me in? Now.” I sighed.

“Caught Gary with another woman.” Another ache stabbed my chest as her eyes widened. “Sonofabitch was screwing her Wednesday when I stopped by his place.” “I’ll kill him.” She went rigid, her gaze hard. “Unless you already took care of it. Is he in the back of the Jeep? I’ll help you dump the body.”

“He’s not worth the jail time if they dragged Boston Harbor.” I braced my chin in my palm, my elbow still on the table. “I got him where it counts.” My throat felt scratchy and my laugh came out hoarse. “Took a bat to his truck and slit one of his tires.”

“In front of other people?” Georgina reached for her throat and made a choking sound when I nodded. “Christ. Are you out of your mind? And Oxford didn’t can you?” Her face was dead serious. “You’d better not pull that kind of crap again. Do you want to stand in the unemployment line or end up serving pastries and coffee at a Dunkin’ Donuts?” I winced at the thought. “I was afraid of that when Oxford sent Takamoto and Smithe to get me out of jail.”

“Jail?” Georgina braced her palms on the table. “You ended up in jail?. So that asshole Gary is pressing charges?” “No.” Something crawled into my throat. “He told the cops he wasn’t, but they were already frisking me and found my Glock. I’d forgotten to put it in the glove compartment when I went in to see Gary.”

“Damn, girl.” She got up and walked to the fridge, grabbed a couple of bottles of Guinness, and cracked them open with the magnetic bottle opener that had been tacked to the fridge. She handed me a Guinness and sat back down.

The cure for anything. A bottle of Guinness and some girl talk.

“What happened to Stacy Randolph—it doesn’t seem real,” Georgina said in a much softer tone before either of us had taken a drink.

For a moment I glanced down at the table before looking at the Italian beauty who grew up in North End, but leased a floor of the triple-decker, with me and Marty leasing the other two levels.

“I miss her already.” I gripped my cold bottle. “I’m going to the funeral—it’s sometime Sunday morning.” “Stacy was the kind of girl you couldn’t help but like.” Georgina reached out and touched my hand. “Would you like me to go to the funeral with you? Where will it be?” “Sure.” My eyes ached and I rubbed them. “Forest Hills.” She squeezed my hand. “I’ll call the mortuary and find out the exact time, and we’ll drive out together, okay?” I gave a slow nod. ‘Thank you.”

We were both silent as we drank our beer.

“So what’s with this sexy new partner I hear you have? Nick Donovan, right?”

she asked after a few minutes.

“Oxford said Donovan’s going in with me on this next op, not Perry.” I groaned. “Donovan wouldn’t go for playing a submissive with me as the dominatrix.” I almost laughed at the thought of putting a studded collar around his neck. Then I grimaced. “But I’m less than crazy about playing the part of the sub to his Dom.”

“You—a, a submissive!” Georgina snorted and started laughing so loud and so long that her eyes grew wet and mascara streaked her face.

I gripped the cold bottle as she kept giggling. “It’s not like I haven’t been through worse. How about when I helped you with that huge narcotics bust last week, in that warehouse that smelled like endless gallons of horse piss?

That’s gotta be worse than a—“ Crap. “A BDSM club.”

She gave another snort of laughter and smacked her bottle of Guinness on the tabletop hard enough to make a loud thunk.

“Hey, you’re gonna damage the pricey laminate.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s only as old as this trip we live in.”

I sniffed. “It’s an antique.”

“Those dark circles under your eyes aren’t from this thing with Gary.” She looked me up and down. “Or Randolph.” The short strands felt scratchy against my cheeks as I shoved my hair out of my face. “Been a long couple of days. Operation Cinderella is coming together, but it’s been a total bitch getting the inside intel we need to make a move.” And the nightmares weren’t helping a damned bit It was almost like not getting sleep at all sometimes.

“Get some rest, Lexi.” Georgina sounded like the concerned friend she was, one who’d been through so much with me.

I waved my hand in a dismissive gesture. “Don’t you have a party or something to get to with that sweet little Catholic boy?”

“Sams not going anywhere.” She shrugged. “He’s probably watching the tube while he waits.”

I drained my bottle of Guinness and stood. “So go find out if he’s a good lay.”

“He’s got big feet and hands.” She put on a sultry look and used her low, sexy voice. “I just hope he lives up to expectations.” With a grin, I shook my head.

Then pictured Donovan’s good-sized feet and hands and nearly groaned again. Georginas smile turned into a frown. “I’m not so sure I like the idea of you in a BDSM club.”

I wasn’t so sure either.

“It’ll be fine.” I rolled my empty bottle in my palms. “We’ll be in and out.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” She narrowed her brows. “A little in-and-out action. You know what goes on in those places, don’t you?”

“I’ve done my research, and I’ve visited some of the tamer clubs, where you can watch and don’t have to play.” Warmth flushed up my face to the roots of my hair. “As far as this op, we’ll just make sure we get what we need as fast as we can.”

“If this Nick Donovan is as hot as rumor has it, this op might not be so bad if it does come along.” Her mouth curved from-the frown to a slight smile.

“He’s just my partner.” The heat in my face grew hotter as I pictured just that—him coming. “Now, for our shopping trip tomorrow.”

“Oh, honey, I’ll take care of you.” Georgina’s exotic dark eyes sparkled as she stood on her tiny red heels. “I know exactly what places we need to hit.”

“I’ve got a hair appointment at ten.” We walked to the front door. “Followed by a manicure and a pedicure.” And oh, lord, a wax job I really wasn’t looking forward to. “Meet you here at nine-thirty.” she said before she let herself out the door.

I rolled my eyes as I locked the door with the industrial chain. Yeah, this little shopping trip with Georgina ought to be interesting. And just wait until Oxford got a look at the expense voucher.

March 16

Saturday, two weeks ago

The hum of voices, and what sounded like the scratch of metal over metal, caused a shudder to run down Kristin’s spine as she slowly became aware of the sounds. Whimpers and cries from other women—barely there. Smells of new carpeting and paint tickled her nose, almost making her sneeze. An air conditioner kicked on and she shivered from cool air caressing her skin.

Naked. She was naked.

True reality seeped into Kristin and her slack body tensed. But she hung from something, her arms stretched over her head.

No strength. She had no strength.

Was she really here? Where was here? Was this her body? Even though her arms ached and her wrists stung from metal handcuffs, she felt almost separated from her own bones and muscle.

She found the strength to lift her head and look up. As heavy as her head felt, it was a wonder she could raise it. The haziness in her mind started to clear along with her eyesight. The handcuffs’ links had been secured over a big meat hook attached to a thick chain in a ceiling that could be in any office building.

Strange to see the circular area around her. Blue drapes hung from a big metal hoop, and she couldn’t see past the drapes.

Hours, days, weeks, years. Who knew how long she’d been drugged? Too drugged to even move most of the time. She couldn’t remember when she’d been shot up last. It must j have been a while ago since things looked so much clearer as she stared at her bare toes.