What About Love (Club Decadence Book 6) (20 page)

“It’s a text from Eric,” she announced. “Breakfast, rundown, ass back to me.” Glancing at Angie, Val rolled her eyes. In a whisper, she added, “I better get to it, Neanderthal man hath spoken.”

Her phone chimed with another text that she read aloud. “I heard that.” She gave Angie a wide eyed look, then with a quirk of her lips, she shrugged. “We should eat before he stomps in, clubs me over the head and hauls me out by my hair.” Another alert sounded, which she promptly ignored.

“Aren’t you going to get that?”

“Nope.” Unconcerned, she dug into the paper bag. “In for a penny, in for a pound my mama used to say.” She pulled out a wrapped sandwich. “Again, not knowing what you like, your choice. Hearty or sweet? I brought both. Double-smoked cheddar bacon stuffed croissant, which is to-die-for, or a glazed cranberry-orange scone?”

“Do I have to choose?”

Val grinned. “Darned if I don’t like you, a lot.” She passed her one of each along with several napkins and pulled out her own. “Okay, now for the gory details. Since you were dead on your feet last night, I was elected to fill you in this morning. Hidden cameras are set up in each room except the bathroom, so change and whatever else you need to do privately, in there.” She passed her a small brown envelope. “Panic button. Eric said to wear this discreetly on your person at all times while in the apartment. The range is limited, so outside of this charming space, it’s not likely to work. Your toe ring and earrings stay on, naturally. And, there is a round the clock stake out in an apartment across the street.”

“So that’s how Kieran saw me in my undies.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, he mentioned me giving the entire neighborhood a free peep show when he called me on the phone right before you came in. How was I to know I’d been staked out?”

“Kieran said that, really?”

Angie shrugged. “I paraphrased.”

“I didn’t figure he did, he’s extremely well-mannered. I think I’ve heard him curse once, but with that accent, he is easily forgiven.” She smiled again. “I’ve heard of worse ways to wake up.”

Her text alert sounded again.

“He’s persistent,” Angie observed with a giggle.

“You have no idea.” Val’s brow gathered. “There was something else.” She pulled out her phone again. “Wait a minute and it’ll come to me.”

Not two seconds later she received another text. “See,” she said with a twinkle. “I told you it’d come to me.”

She read the message and gave a hoot of laughter. “Smartass sub says ouch.” Grinning, she shook her head. “Truer words. I have a list, hang on.” She scrolled with her thumb. “Oh, yeah, the last thing. You’re going out today to be visible. Go to public places like the mall. They want pervy murderer guy to have a chance to scope out both you and your place. You’ll have a tail, of course.”

“Got it.” She eyed the perky blonde as she took a delicate bite of her sandwich. “Why didn’t T or Eric come? Are you on the payroll too?”

“Me, a Rossi operative?” Genuinely surprised, she spread her arms wide and scrutinized her petite, curvy frame. “Hardly. I’m only a messenger, one they thought would be inconspicuous and even if the killer is watching, one sub meeting another is no big deal. One of the Doms coming to a sub’s door might smack of a relationship and scare the murderous bastard away.”

“Got it,” she repeated. “Especially T, since we have a scene tonight.”

Val’s hand came across the table and grabbed hers. “Are you okay with that?”

“I can’t really say—”

She popped up and directed, “Grab your coffee,” then marched toward the bedroom.

Curious, Angie followed along. “Where are we going?”

“I feel an urgent need for a tour of your place. Let’s start in the bathroom.” She gave Angie a meaningful look that could not be mistaken.

As soon as she closed the door, Val pounced. “All right, without peeping Eric and T listening in, tell me. How are you holding up? I can’t imagine.”

Then Angie did something she rarely ever did, she broke down and cried.

“I knew it! I told Eric. I’m going over there and tell them to think of something else.”

“No!” She caught Val’s hand as she stomped by. “Three other women’s lives hang in the balance, more if I don’t do this.”

“What can I do? Are you hurt, or simply freaked out? Name it, I’ll do it.”

“You’re a therapist. Tell me how to lock it down, to compartmentalize it all when it’s over and go on.”

“Strangers touching you, if it’s not your thing—”

“No, it’s not that. Rather, I didn’t think it was my thing until a stranger made me come. I must have an inner slut, I mean, to come for T one night and practically the next, for a stranger with a lightning ball on a stick.”

“You’ve asked the right girl about that. Eric is an expert with the violet wand. The things he does to my body with that wonderfully wicked lightning rod… Well, I lose control and, please don’t tell him I said this, but I can’t say that it’d be any different if someone else was doing it. I mean, except for when he goes indirect and does the internal stuff or uses his tongue.”

“His tongue?”

“Oh, yeah, he wears this device which electrifies his body, particularly his fingers and tongue, so when he touches me or better yet, licks me, well, I’m sure you can imagine.” She fanned herself. “So don’t think badly about yourself for that. You’re not a slut—I hate that word by the way—it has such a bad connotation outside the lifestyle that I can’t shake it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Slut in the BDSM world, as Eric explained it to me, isn’t derogatory. It simply means someone glories in his or her preferred kink. Truly, that they’ve accepted who they are and aren’t afraid to go after what they want. Guess that makes me an electro-stim, Eric Dupree slut.”

Angie processed that, wishing she had the guts to go after what she wanted, but it was a dead end with him not into more than the kink and glorying parts, evidently. She frowned as the carousel that night loomed ahead.

“There’s something else.”

“You can tell me, Angie. I’ll keep your confidence.”

She nodded, despite having known her for only two days, she felt sure that Val would. Still, she hesitated.

“It’s carousel, isn’t it? They don’t allow vaginal penetration, if that’s your concern.”

“What about the other?”

“Anal?” She blew out her breath as she gave her a sympathetic look. “You won’t escape that I’m afraid. It’s always done. Doms get off on sticking things up a sub’s ass, you’ll find that out quickly if you continue beyond this mission. But on carousel, you’ll only need to be concerned with toys, fingers and perhaps, a tongue, nothing more.”

She bit her lip, turning away, but she forgot where she was. A bathroom with mirrors. When she glanced up, she met Val’s concerned gaze.

“T will look out for you, honey, that’s why the Dom is there. Not everyone knows this next fact, but I don’t think I’m bound to keep it secret since you’re not a club member. And if you were, I wouldn’t care, considering what you’re up against. There is a system among the Doms to use hand signals to direct the play.”

“Hand signals?”

“It would diminish the psychological impact for the Dom to be giving verbal instructions, so they use signals to direct the intensity. One for mild ranging to five, which means the gloves are off.”

“What does five with a paddle mean?”

“You don’t sit for a week.”

“And with a plug?”

“You don’t sit for a week.”

She huffed a humorless laugh.

“T won’t let anyone hurt you, Angie. This is for show on your part, so if he holds up more than one finger I’d be shocked.” She tilted her head, observing intently. “There’s something between you and T, isn’t there?”

“What makes you say that?”

“You mean other than the fact that Eric has had to contain him each time you’ve done a scene? And I don’t mean only that bastard Gregory. He should have been gone long ago.”

Baffled, Angie confronted her. “Then why did you recommend him?”

“I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. I distinctly remember you saying Gregory would be a good partner.”

“Grigori, Angie, with two i’s. He’s a sweet, sensual Dom. You picked Gregory with an e and a y. A none too gentle sadist and probably the worst our club has to offer.”

“Ohmigod.”

“I tried to get you to wait for Eric.”

Angie covered her face. A sadist, like Master Dan, only much, much worse. Could she pick ‘em, or what? “I really messed up.”

“Yeah, you did. And I should warn you, T is pissed. Another reason he didn’t come this morning. He didn’t think your ass could take the spanking you’ve got coming on top of last night and what lies ahead.”

“He threatened to spank me?”

“Bust your defiant ass is how he put it. Yet another reason I know there’s more than a business association going on between you. He was the image of a possessive Dom and you his possession.”

“No, it isn’t what you think. He says he wants me, but then he doesn’t.” She rubbed her forehead. “I’m up against the wall with his tongue down my throat one minute and the next he’s telling me not to lose my heart to him, that he doesn’t have it to give.”

“Crap! He’s got commitment issues and distrust too. What’s that about?”

“I wish I knew.”

“Abandonment? Sudden loss, maybe?”

Angie shook her head. “He’s never spoken of his past.”

“God save us from close-mouthed men.” Val gripped her hand. “And have you?”

Puzzled, she replied, “Have I what?”

“Lost your heart to him?”

She closed her eyes, trying to hide the truth. With Val, that was impossible, as futile as trying to hide from Superman and his x-ray vision.

“Oh Angie,” Val murmured, her voice rife with sympathy.

“Yeah, sucks for me, doesn’t it?”

Chapter Fourteen

At seven o’clock that night, Angie sat in the administrative conference room waiting for the team to gather. Goose bumps ran up her arms as a blast of cool air hit her back. Angling her head back, she took in the vent directly above her. Figures. Her dress allowed little coverage of the hard points that threatened to poke holes in the front of the slinky fabric. Crossing her arms was the best she could do. Wearing red tonight, she’d made her makeup more dramatic with ruby red lipstick, a brighter shade than she’d ever worn before. She thought it gave her an exotic look that she hoped would catch the killer’s eye as much as the halter dress that left her entirely bare from her shoulders to the small of her back. Wearing it while surrounded by this group of powerful men made her feel as good as naked.

These guys really liked to meet. T had called this eleventh hour meeting to run through the plan for the evening once more. In this case, however, she wasn’t about to complain with her safety on the line.

It was an hour before the club opened, two before the main event began and still another two, give or take, before she left sometime around midnight. Like low lying fruit ripe for the picking, she was due to head out alone, as the four previous victim’s had, fresh off her ride on the carousel. Her mouth having gone dry, she leaned forward to pour a glass of water. As she picked up the pitcher, the ice rattled as her hand trembled, sending cold liquid dripping over her fingers. She put it down, grabbed a napkin and clasped her wet hands in her lap.

“Angie,” T murmured from beside her, his warm hand covering both of hers.

She didn’t look at him, but shook her head. “I’m okay, T.”

“I’m not so sure—”

The door opened, interrupting what else he would have said as Kieran rushed in.

“The coroner’s preliminary report is back.” He took the only remaining vacant chair and opened a file folder. “Cause of death, as expected, a knife wound to the chest, which punctured the left lung and lacerated the spleen.”

Involuntarily, Angie’s hand crept up her side to where the mark of violence, similar to Elaine Danson’s, would forever remain. If T and Sean hadn’t been there to help, she’d be the one with a coroner’s report instead of the ugly red scar that glared at her in the mirror every day. Oddly enough, Elaine’s wound was on the same side.

“She was raped and sodomized,” Kieran stopped, glancing over at Angie and frowned. “Sorry, lass.”

“She’s a former police detective, Kier,” T reminded him.

Kieran nodded, his gaze dipping down her front. “I haven’t forgotten, but the dress rather threw me for a moment.”

“That’s okay,” Angie averred on an inhaled breath, rubbing the area around her scar that had begun to tingle. “Was there anything unexpected in the report?”

“Yes, which is the reason for the expediency. Her hair was dyed sometime after she was abducted.”

“Dyed?” T asked for clarification.

“Yes, it’s odd. The color,” his eyes shot to Angie again, this time to her hair, “was caramel brown.”

A queasy feeling invaded her stomach. She ran through the details from the other victims. Same age, height, build, they all had that in common but had different hair color, except for the last girl. Her brows knit together as she tried to absorb the information she’d just been given.

Why dye her hair, unless… Oh my god. Except for their hair, each of the women could pass for her, easily. “This can’t be a coincidence,” she whispered.

She reached across the table for the files. Flipping to the first one, she ran a finger through the bulleted details although she had the facts memorized. To be certain, she searched until she found what she was looking for, then flipped open another.

Elaine Danson was a cop, as was Alisha Gray. Felicia Mulrooney was an author. Marilee Phelps’ occupation was unlisted. On a gut twisting hunch, she pulled out her iPhone and brought up Amazon. Felicia’s author page was easily located as was her first published book.

“Holy shit,” she whispered as she scanned the description.

“What are you thinking, Angie?” Cap’s voice shot like a bullet through the speaker, where he was conferencing in by phone.

“Yeah, clue us in, darlin’,” T demanded.

“Felicia’s book was titled
To Serve and Protect
.” Every man at the table looked at her blankly. “It’s an erotic romance and according to the publisher’s note, it contains violence and BDSM themes.” They still didn’t react until she added, “The heroine in the book is a cop, as are two of the victims.”