Without a Net (18 page)

“His name is Detective Robertson, and you have already admitted to kidnapping, sexual restraint, sexual assault, and terrorist threats. Now that I’ve read you your rights, would you like to repeat any of those statements?”

Milan unlocked the corset and began to undo the bondage the woman had put on Ollie. “No, I would not. And you know me well enough to know that no arrest will stick. Besides, you saw him. He was not objecting.”

“And I know what your intake training looks like,” Travis said. “You teach people to stop objecting, and when they consent up front, that’s fine. But this…” Travis grimaced as he let his words trail off. The pain poured from him.

“I assessed his character before taking him.” Milan pulled the plug out of Ollie’s ass.

Ollie sighed with relief. His muscles were sore and stretched, so the ability to relax sent a frisson of pleasure though him. He focused on that since it was far more pleasant than the conversation swirling around him.

“You put him in a position to be afraid for his life. You put him in a position where I would rape him,” Travis spat out. “Hell, I’m ready to arrest myself, and you’d better believe that I’m reporting all this to my director.”

“And now you put on your hair shirt and tell everyone how bad you are. This is familiar,” Milan said in a tone dripping with contempt. “If you are falling back on that old gem, then I failed in your training, because I thought I had taught you better.”

“Oh, I won’t play the martyr,” Travis said. “In fact, I plan to tell my lawyer how all this is your fault. You set me up. You put Detective Robertson in my path knowing that I had every expectation that anyone in your house was here willingly. People pay a hell of a lot of money for your training, so it’s not like I expect you to have involuntary guests. You had one of your people put him in makeup and a mask that hid the bottom of his face to minimize the chance I would recognize him. You did all that. I’m hoping to get my own sentence negotiated down to home arrest or parole by throwing you under the bus. Hell, I’ll drive the bus, back it up over your body, and then hit you again.”

“Well, that is rather uncalled for.” Milan finally worked the lock on the neck brace that held Ollie’s head still and kept the gag in place.

“Uncalled for is raping a detective.”

“You should stop using the word ‘rape.’ It is not an accurate description of what happened.”

“Yeah, it is,” Travis said. “And don’t give me that bullshit about him enjoying it. That doesn’t change the fact that he had not given his consent.”

“So ask for it now,” Milan said. He took the neck brace off, and the thick gag came out. Ollie found himself ungagged and able to say whatever he wanted, but with the gazes of both men on him, Ollie couldn’t make his mouth work. He couldn’t even get his brain to work. It was like he had some logjam of feelings and ideas, and he couldn’t say any of them.

Travis spoke before Ollie could. “I think Detective Robertson deserves more than to have us ask for favors. We’re leaving, Milan. Unless you want to have a real problem, don’t try to stop us,” Travis said. He took off his jacket and offered it to Ollie. Ollie took it instinctively. When someone handed you something, you took it. But then he held it, not sure what to do. Since his arms were not the part that felt exposed, he draped the jacket in front of his cock, which was still in the metal rings of the Gates of Hell.

“If you try to leave, we will have a problem,” Milan said quietly, but the strength of his voice and his convictions was unmistakable.

“Don’t do this, Milan. Don’t make me your enemy,” Travis warned.

“Talk to the boy, and keep in mind that I am a very poor enemy to have as well,” Milan said, and with that, he turned on his heel and headed for the door.

Ollie was left alone in the room with Travis. Well, they weren’t exactly alone. Ollie was fairly sure that Travis’s guilt was significant enough to count as a third person, and Ollie had one or two issues of his own that were large enough to have grown legs. The fact was that the space was crowded with invisible beings.

“We need to get out of here,” Travis said.

“Okay,” Ollie agreed.

For a second, Travis looked at him, and then he reached for the door they’d come in. Travis threw the door open, and two huge men stood outside. They looked like stereotypes of private guards—huge and clearly heavy in the testosterone department with suits that weren’t tailored well enough to hide the bulge of weapons under their jackets.

Travis sighed when he saw them. “Well, crap.”

Chapter Fifteen

After the guards escorted Ollie and Travis back up to Travis’s room, they stood in the hall, which allowed some privacy once Travis closed the door. Of course, Milan probably still had listening devices all over the place, but at least Ollie could pretend they were alone.

“I would apologize, only I think you need time to be angry right now, so feel free,” Travis said before he crossed the room and sat at the desk.

“You didn’t know,” Ollie said.

Travis turned his chair around to face him. “But I should have asked. Isn’t that what people always complain about with shade Doms—that we don’t ask? And I always said that we get consent up front and that we know our subs better than traditional Doms, that we know to avoid pushing too hard, and we know how to push hard enough for a shade sub to feel the submission. But that’s not what happened here. I made assumptions, and I forced you into a sexual act.” Travis lifted his chin, but he also rested his hands on his knees. It was a strange combination of bravado and submissive signals.

Ollie retreated to the couch and draped Travis’s jacket over him like a blanket. “Can you give me a rundown on the case?”

“It’s against policy, but…” Travis shrugged. “I think I owe you at least that much. How much did you uncover?”

Ollie pulled a leg up under him and rearranged the coat. “Lieutenant Huda was pushing certain people out of the department, and it looked like he was targeting gay cops. After he put me in a difficult position with an undercover assignment that was clearly not designed well, I filed a complaint. The captain called me in and asked that I help him by going through with the assignment so he could collect evidence against Huda. I’m guessing that was a lie.”

Travis nodded. “From surveillance, we know that Greyson and Huda meet regularly off the clock. We didn’t know there was a discrimination aspect, and the prosecutor will want to hear that detail.”

Targeting specific groups for hate could get years added to a sentence.

Travis explained. “We got called in when several of Greyson’s flunkies tried to extort Milan’s clubs. They wanted protection money, and when Milan asked his security to track down the threat, he realized they were cops. He called me. When my partner and I came in, we found circumstantial evidence linking Greyson and his handpicked favorites to high-level sun dealers, illegal prostitution, custom drugs, and mind-fuck clubs. Apparently getting into shade clubs was their latest expansion plan.”

“Did Milan call you because you worked for him?” Ollie asked.

A rough laugh slipped out of Travis, and he rubbed his hand over his face. “God, no. I never worked for him; I came here looking for training twenty-five years ago.”

Travis must have been barely older than a kid, because Ollie put him in his early forties with a touch of gray at the temples.

“I had anger issues growing up, and that carried over into my sex life. In college I went to one of his clubs, and I ended up here trying to learn to control myself. Milan is the master of being in control.”

“He’s that,” Ollie agreed. He was more bothered than he could admit at the idea of Milan forcing Travis to submit. Milan could talk about taking a sub down a path they craved, but there wasn’t a submissive bone in Travis’s body. Honestly, forcing Travis to submit felt more manipulative than what Milan had done to Ollie. Maybe. Maybe Ollie wasn’t emotionally engaging with his own trauma. Right now Ollie regretted taking classes in sexual assault and recovery because he wished he didn’t have so many reasons to question his own judgment.

“You know how he looks gender neutral?” Travis asked.

Ollie nodded without saying anything.

“He didn’t like that his hormones affected so much of his thinking, so he had himself castrated. He always told me that a dominant controls himself before he controls anyone else. I knew I was a Dom, but he made me submit first to him and then to myself so I would learn control.”

A shiver of revulsion ran up Ollie’s spine. “Seriously?”

“I’ve never known him to lose that famous discipline until today.”

Ollie picked at a hangnail. “I don’t think he lost control at all. When he said that they were going to do something illegal and frame him, I think he meant they planned to kill me. I suspected Lieutenant Huda was trying to give me a rough exit, and I was counting on Captain Greyson to protect me. That might not have been the smartest move.”

“You had no way to know your captain was dirty. You did the right thing.”

“Then why were you watching my house?” Ollie asked. Feds didn’t have stakeouts on innocent cops.

Travis angled the chair and leaned against the back of it. “Because you had the guts to file the report. My partner was working at a diner a number of Greyson’s guys used, and I was coordinating intel from her and two other agents, and we stayed close to you because Greyson wasn’t the sort to leave loose ends. Your willingness to put their wrongdoing on the record was a problem.”

“You thought he might kill me, and you planned to be close enough to catch him in the act,” Ollie said. “So Milan is not the only one using me as bait.” The anger pressed against the bottom of Ollie’s throat like he might throw up any second.

“No, we had no reason to interfere. Without evidence, we couldn’t even talk to you because we weren’t sure you were innocent. You could have been a plant they were using to flush out any investigation. In some ways, you looked too good to be true. So we kept an eye on the situation the best we could.”

“And used me as bait,” Ollie summarized. “Do you have some pants I could have?”

“Of course. I’m sorry.” Travis headed for the dresser. “If we knew you were in danger, I would have acted. And I’m not kidding about backing you on any charges you want to file, including against me. I knew this investigation had rattled Milan more than he would admit, and I had no right to make the assumptions I did.”

“You both assumed I was submissive, which isn’t wrong. But when he came to the club, he asked me questions…” Ollie struggled to get his thoughts in order. “He asked me questions like whether I would rescue him or a drowning child. I told him I hoped he could tread water for a while. I assumed a shade Dom preferred a sub who put them first all the time. So I think a lot of assumptions got made.” And if Ollie focused on the ones that didn’t involve him getting pinned to the bed and fucked, then he didn’t have to think about how much he’d enjoyed it.

The connection he’d had with Travis from the very beginning had tangled with the fact that Ollie did enjoy bondage. The line between natural desire and abuse was shifting, and Ollie wasn’t sure if that was healthy. He only knew he wanted Travis to do that again. But Ollie couldn’t be too fucked-up, because he definitely didn’t want Milan or anyone else touching him. So he did still have a red line as a submissive, but it had moved considerably.

Travis handed him a pair of pants and a T-shirt. “Abusive Doms are weak, and they need subs to prop them up and make them feel important. Doms like Milan have enough ego that they don’t need that sort of sub.”

That described Travis too. “I should get dressed,” Ollie said, holding Travis’s clothes in front of him as he stood and edged toward the bathroom.

Travis turned his back, giving Ollie some privacy. “I assumed that if Milan didn’t need to abuse a sub to make himself feel stronger, he didn’t have any motive at all. Clearly I was wrong. And even if your captain did plan to kill you and frame Milan, that didn’t give him a right to do what he did.”

Ollie closed the bathroom door and considered his bound penis. The stress of the past few minutes had killed most of his lust, but the rings had held enough of the blood in his cock that getting them off would sting. But there was no help for that. Ollie looked in the medicine cabinet for lotion and got to work. During his search, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He was going to look like a tasteful whore for days. He couldn’t see the serious detective beneath the painted sex object, and that bothered him more than he’d expected it to.

“How much of the crime does Greyson control?” Ollie shouted through the closed door. He then reached over and locked it.

“All the sun, most of the prostitution. He’s got a good handle on most of the large mind-fuck clubs, but given an illegal holo set or two and enough stupidity to cook the right drugs in your kitchen, small clubs can pop up anywhere, so we doubt he’ll try to take over all the small-time operators. He does seem to be cracking down on them, probably to keep up the arrest statistics so it doesn’t look like he’s turning his back on crime.”

“So, all the vice is pretty much under control of the vice captain.” Ollie hissed as his balls came through the lotion-slicked ring. That hurt.

“Pretty much,” Travis agreed. “You okay?”

“Peachy,” Ollie said as he finally got the last ring off. His penis had stripes where the metal had pressed into the flesh, making him overly sensitive. “Are the other departments dirty?”

“Not that we’ve found. Just vice.”

So just the people Ollie knew. Just
his
coworkers. Just the men and women he’d trusted at his back. “What about Kemboi?”

There was a longer-than-usual pause, and Ollie knew exactly what that meant. Travis did eventually answer, though. “He’s one of Greyson’s main enforcers. We think he was the one in charge of trying to bring Milan under their influence.”

Ollie sat on the toilet and closed his eyes. The one person he’d trusted was the one in charge of the plan, and the plan probably included killing him and framing Milan.

“I’m sorry. Believe it or not, I do know how it feels to find out your partner is dirty,” Travis called through the door.