by His Slave
He’d been taken to the hospital and checked for hypothermia followed by an emergency foster home. Police had found drugs in the car and a drug lab in the rundown apartment where his parents were behind in rent. Even before coming to trial, they’d signed away their parental rights. He had no idea where they were or whether they were together, and didn’t care.
There’d been something in the record about his mother being pregnant, but if he had a brother or sister, he didn’t know. He’d debated hiring a private investigator, but some doors were better left closed. Maybe later.
“I’m so glad police got involved that night,” Cheyenne said when he ran down. “Otherwise, who knows how long you would have been exposed to that lifestyle? You spent your childhood being bounced around, but at least you weren’t raised in a drug house.”
“That’s the way I look at it,” he said, although it wasn’t that simple. “Another positive thing. While locked up, I had to attend school where the focus was on learning a trade. I became interested in computers and from there security systems.”
“Did you go to college?”
“For a while, but I didn’t see much point in a lot of the classes. The way I look at it, education has to have a specific purpose.”
“I know what you’re talking about. I signed up for a so-called writing class that turned out to be the instructor’s excuse to pontificate about such things as allegory and metaphor.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I figured it out, I just didn’t care. What was important to me was learning how to thoroughly research a subject and develop organizational skills. Journalism was great for that, a lot of hands-on experience working for the school newspaper. Besides, the running back was the sports’ editor. What a hunk.”
He’d become weary of his voice and appreciated letting her pick up the conversational ball. Besides, her tone was soothing and now light. While detailing his childhood, there hadn’t been enough of him left over for anything else, but with the telling done, his awareness of himself as a man was reasserting itself.
Perhaps mindful that the weight of her head was cutting off the circulation in his shoulder, she’d rolled onto her back during his monologue and lay next to him with her hands on her belly. Instead of quickening the way his threatened to do, her breath was slowing. Knowing he was losing her, he resolved to match her pace. As sleep tugged at him, he reached down for the coverlet and covered both of them.
What the hell have you done, was his last thought.
26
In the morning, Cheyenne offered to fix breakfast so she’d have something to do, but Mace turned her down. She’d awakened believing they’d have sex, but he’d stepped into the shower without so much as a good morning. When he emerged, he’d suggested she do the same, giving her another of his shirts to put on before driving her home.
Once at her own place, she’d changed into her own clothes and, not knowing whether to scream or cry, watched as he went through her house. Now she sat across the kitchen table from him with her stomach growling and the distance between them both welcome and upsetting. The remarkably small camera he’d taken from her spider plant was in a paper bag on the table.
“I don’t know whether to feel relieved or more confused,” she said after he unnecessarily told her it was the only device he’d found. “At least whoever’s responsible wasn’t interested in what I do in the bathroom.”
“They got what they wanted this way, or at least that was their intention. What I don’t know is whether they came back after planting this.”
Pressing her hand to her stomach, she stared at him. His eyes held too many memories of what had taken place between them. “You mean they might have been here more than once?”
“That was their intention. Otherwise, they couldn’t get their hands on what’s in the memory chip.”
“Who would do—that’s disgusting.”
“It’s more than that.”
“Dangerous, you mean?”
“That’s possible.”
Feeling sicker by the moment, she reached for the bag. The impulse to drop it into the garbage disposal nearly overwhelmed her, but Mace held up his hand, stopping her. “It’s a long shot, but I’m going to check for fingerprints.”
“You can do that? You won’t be involving the police, will you?”
“No, not yet.”
“I appreciate that.” She could hardly think. “I don’t want this becoming public if it can be helped. The idea of the police, or anyone, looking at me like that... That’s why you’re handling it yourself, isn’t it? You want to keep your name out of it.”
“If possible. One step at a time.” He fingered the top of the bag. “This is a fairly sophisticated system for its size. It’s only been on the market a few months. The price tag is hefty, the technology impressive even to me.”
Damn him. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was some technician she’d hired to do repairs around her place. What had happened to the man who’d bared his soul and given her his full attention while she did the same?
“I’ve dealt with the manufacturer,” he continued, “Once I have the serial number, it’s possible I can get someone to tell me who bought it.”
Fighting the bile in her throat, she gripped the corner of the table. No way was she going to touch him. “And you’ll look at the images, won’t you?”
“Yes, Cheyenne, there won’t be anything I haven’t seen.”
Of course not. There wasn’t anything he didn’t know about her—except maybe how she felt at the moment.
“You’ll tell me everything you learn, won’t you? Advise me on how to proceed.”
“It’s part of my job.”
Your job. Standing, she headed for the living room. “Of course.”
“Wait,” he said. “We need to discuss your safety. I want you to contact a security company In the meantime, I’ll give you my cell phone number. I’ll call you at random times. If you don’t answer—”
“I understand,” she blurted. “Believe me I’ll be careful.” And spooked. “Look, I’ve already taken up enough of your morning. I’m sure ... Mace, I need some time to myself.”
Instead of following her, he remained at the table, prompting her to face him. He hadn’t taken time to shave. Between that and his faded, threadbare jeans, he looked nothing like an Edge employee or Indulgences dom. This was a man who wanted nothing more than to spend the day with his dog, or maybe with a woman equally at home in old jeans.
Much as she wanted to be that woman, she was afraid. They’d gotten too close. It was time to back up, put distance between them.
“You’re right,” he said, standing and picking up the bag. “Things got out of control last night.”
Him, out of control? At a loss for words, she led the way to the front door and opened it. Although he didn’t touch her as he stepped outside, his warmth stayed with her. Trying not to think or feel, she watched him drive away. Then she locked her door.
Instead of going outside when Mace opened his back door, Rio stood, looking up at him.
“Go,” Mace said. “I don’t have time to play with you. I’ve got to get working on this.” He indicated the bag he’d left on the counter.
Rio sat.
“What is it? You’re saying you have a right to know where the lady is and what she was doing here all night?”
Rio’s tail started wagging.
“I would tell you if I knew.” Kneeling, he scratched behind Rio’s ear. “Not the smartest thing I’ve ever done, that’s the one thing I do know.”
The explanation, pitiful as it was, seemed to satisfy Rio, who turned his head so Mace didn’t have to stretch to reach both places. He hadn’t wanted to neuter Rio, but neither had he wanted to deal with an intact and single-minded male or run the risk of being responsible for unwanted puppies. As a result, he couldn’t blame Rio for not understanding how complex the whole sex thing was. But even if Rio spent all his wa
king hours in search of females in heat, he wouldn’t understand the whole emotional thing.
Well, neither did he. What he did know was that Cheyenne had touched him as he’d never been touched.
That scared the hell out of him.
He wanted back what he’d had before her.
“She’s an amazing creature. The most responsive bitch I’ve ever seen. I envy you.”
Mace sat in Atwood’s office watching as a video of Saturday night at Indulgences played. Feeling as if he might crack into countless pieces, he nevertheless kept his hands in his lap. He was flanked by Atwood and Robert, although caught between them might be a more accurate description.
At the moment Cheyenne stood stretched out on the X. Naked and twitching from the lashes he was inflicting on her, she looked nothing like the reporter who at this moment was working in another part of the Edge building. Unless things had changed since he’d walked past her cubicle earlier this morning, her fingers were pounding the keyboard, her features intense as she concentrated on what she was writing.
If she knew what he was looking at, she’d never forgive him.
“How did you get your hands on this?” he asked. “My take when I saw the camera in the back room was that it would be for the exclusive use of Indulgences’ owners.”
“Connections.”
“Why are you showing it to me? If you’re thinking of blackmailing her—”
“That’s not going to be necessary.”
What the hell did that mean? “Me then?”
“We pay your salary, Mace. We know how much you’re worth.”
If he was still the confused and angry teen he’d told Cheyenne about Saturday night, he’d have already started throwing punches, but despite the satisfaction that would bring, he might never get to the why.
“We also know what you’d do with more money if you had it,” Robert said. “Buy the woodlot behind your place so you’d have more privacy. However”—Robert grinned a grin Mace longed to wipe from his face—“you might be inclined to cut down some of those trees and build something to rival Indulgences.”
On the video, Cheyenne continued to jerk. Although the sound had been silenced, he could hear her grunts and gasps. Studying her, he acknowledged that her reactions weren’t any different from the other women he’d worked over. Although attractive, she didn’t leave the others in her dust. What held her apart from them was his responses to her, responses he was still trying to wrap his mind around.
Bottom line, she scared him when he’d sworn his days of being afraid were behind him.
“The last thing I’d ever do was cut down a tree. What the hell is this about?”
The two men exchanged looks, no easy matter with him between them. He had a permit to carry the gun tucked into the small of his back, not that that’s what a civilized man should be thinking about.
“This is about a lot of things,” Atwood supplied. “I’m trying to decide what’s the best way to approach the bottom line.”
“How about the truth?”
“Yes,” Robert agreed. “That’s our intention. Mace, doing thorough background checks is an important part of what your job entails. Hopefully it comes as no surprise that we’ve done the same to you.”
“I figured you had.”
“Going back to your childhood.”
Fury threatened to flood Mace. Of course they had. Given his responsibilities at Edge, anything less would constitute carelessness on their parts. “Find it interesting, did you?”
“Rather sad, truth be told. We’re sorry you had such a rough haul.”
“What does it have to do with today?”
“We’re getting to that. By the time our investigator finished his job, we had a clear image of a loner, a man who insists on being in control for reasons a psychiatrist would doubtless have a field day with.”
Atwood cleared his throat. “You’re able to indulge that need for control both at work and via your private activities. What we’re considering is that dabbling in BDSM might not be enough. It’s quite possible, maybe a certainty, that you have an even larger appetite, one you haven’t been able to feed.”
Robert pointed at the video. “Tell us the truth. Your future here might well hinge on the answer. You’d like nothing better than for that collar to stay on her for the rest of her life, for her to belong to you.”
From the moment he’d realized Robert and Atwood had brought him in to view the video still playing, he’d known his suspicions about the two were founded. He couldn’t prove it yet, but his gut said they were responsible for what he’d found in Cheyenne’s bedroom. There’d always been something a little dirty about the magazine because of its focus on life’s underbelly. In essence, Edge reflected Robert’s and Atwood’s personalities.
He just hadn’t realized how dark their personalities were before now. “Go on.”
“We intend to,” Atwood said. “But first a clarification. You asked how we got our hands on this arousing demonstration of the BDSM lifestyle. It’s more than our having connections. Edge has a financial interest in Indulgences. More than just an interest, actually.”
“What my partner’s trying to say,” Robert interjected, “is that he and I are the major Indulgences owners. In fact, the club is why Edge operates in the black.”
“I should have figured—”
“Don’t blame yourself. The IRS has no idea.”
“I’m going to come right to the point,” Atwood said. He turned his attention to the video. “What does she mean to you?”
“I don’t see how that’s your business.”
“Ah, but it is, or rather it has the potential to be. In some respects, we’re at a disadvantage because this session with her is the first time we’ve studied you at work. Prior to this, we’ve relied on word of mouth because we’d believed it prudent not to be at Indulgences when you were.”
“You’re sure you got the straight story?” Mace fought to keep his tone calm. “If I were you, I wouldn’t believe a word anyone says in there.”
“We appreciate your warning, but those we talked to had no reason to be anything but honest. In fact, they were, how should I put it, encouraged to be so.”
He’d spent most of Sunday hiking in the woods with Rio. While the pit followed his nose, he’d concentrated on identifying the various wildlife. If he had his way, he’d be there right now and none of this would be happening. Maybe best scenario, he’d have never met Cheyenne.
Leaning forward, Atwood pressed Pause. The frozen image left no doubt that Mace’s hand was on Cheyenne’s sex.
“Your talent with regards to this lifestyle”—Atwood pointed—“is highly regarded. To a man, the other doms agree you’re a master of the art. To be fair, we put the same question to a number of women, and they all said the same thing.”
“Am I up for an award? Dom of the year?”
If his sarcasm bothered Atwood, the man gave no hint. “Potentially much better. But back to our question about her.” He pointed again. “How important is she to you?”
The move didn’t come easy, yet Mace leaned back in his chair. “If you went to the trouble of having this video made and took the chance of sneaking into her place to plant the camera I found, I’d be a fool not to surmise that you know what happened after she and I left Indulgences.”
Pushing to his feet, Robert paced to the closed door. Although he’d locked it earlier, he tested it. “Remind me to never underestimate you.”
“That cuts both ways.”
Atwood continued to lean forward, the fingers gripping the chair arms turning white. “There’s been entirely too much dancing around. You prematurely took her out of Indulgences and drove her to your place where she spent the night. The next morning you returned her to her condo where you remained for the better part of an hour. The two of you haven’t connected since then, and when she arrived at work this morning, you didn’t acknowledge each other. However, there might have been phone calls we, so far, don�
��t have access to.”
“Is there a point to this?” he asked. “Because if I’m not given it, damn fast, I’m out of here.”
For a moment no one said anything, yet he sensed his sharp comment had had the desired impact.
“You’re a hard bastard,” Robert said as he returned to his chair. Instead of sitting, however, he rested his ass against the desk, facing Mace. “Hard enough for the job we intend to offer you.”
Knocked off balance by the last thing he expected to hear, Mace studied the backs of his hands, specifically knuckles better suited on a boxer.
“No reaction?” Atwood asked.
“I’m waiting. Besides, I thought we were talking about Cheyenne.”
“The two are related. Do you care about her?”
“That depends on your interpretation of care.”
“We’d prefer to hear yours.”
His guess was he hadn’t been in the room over ten minutes, but he could hardly wait to leave. Sitting and talking had never been anywhere on his list of things he wanted to do with his time. Besides, this wasn’t just shooting the bull.
“I wouldn’t want to hear that she’d been hit by a bus. I gained a certain amount of satisfaction from helping her research the piece you assigned her.” He stared pointedly at the video. “I got my rocks off Saturday night.”
“Do you want a repeat performance?”
Knowing he was being tested, albeit for something he didn’t yet understand, he shrugged, then nodded.
“Because you have feelings for her or because she’s a good sub?”
“She’s practically a virgin to the scene. It’s a turn-on.”
“Anything else about her turn you on, perhaps whatever it was that led to her spending the night?”
“Let’s just say we were insatiable.”
“Then why didn’t the two of you hook up on Sunday?”