Command (Changing Roles Book 1)

by Ellie Masters

  The other people shifted nervously with the sudden increase in tension.

  Captain Marshall tried his best to defuse the tension. “Mr. Davenport has been kind enough to lend his services—”

  “I asked him the question, Randy. I want his answer, not yours.”

  That shut dear old Randy up. He sputtered into silence.

  “Simple,” Jake said. “I have access to your only lead.”

  I fisted my hands. He hadn’t even given me time to accept his offer. A proposition I’d analyzed from all sides, even strategized and planned how best to attack. An offer I’d decided to take because it made sense, even if I feared the pretense of going undercover as a submissive. I had my list of limits carefully folded in my pocket, ready to take to him later tonight. I thought I could trust him, but now? I felt like I’d stepped into an ambush, an elaborate game set up by Jake to force me to do what he willed rather than what I chose.

  Randy still held his chair for me. “Please, Kate, have a seat, and we’ll discuss this.”

  “I think Mr. Davenport seems to have everything figured out.” I leveled my gaze on Captain Marshall. “If you have no faith in me, then have the balls to tell me to my face.” I pointed at Jake. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

  Jake stood. A line furrowed his brow, and his eyes flashed in anger. “I’m not here as your babysitter, Kate. Take the damn seat, and listen to the plan.”

  I yanked the chair out of Captain Marshall’s hands and sat down. Not because Jake ordered me to, but because my legs nearly gave out at the dominance he’d displayed. I hadn’t had a reaction like that to a man since…well, since my Master.

  My thoughts had been to approach Jake and lay out my plan, establish limits and boundaries that would allow me to work this case in the manner I saw fit. He’d turned everything around on me by being here. I raised my voice in challenge. I wanted to say, You’re not the boss of me, but that sounded childish. I settled for something much simpler. “Why?”

  “Kate,” Captain Marshall spoke softly, laying a hand on my shoulder.

  It was a gesture he’d done a hundred times after my father passed away. In many ways, good ole Randy had stepped into the empty hole left behind after my father’s death. He’d once been my mentor, until he fired me.

  When I gave him a disparaging look, Captain Marshall lifted his hand off my shoulder. “Please, just listen.”

  I gestured toward Jake. “You have your consultant. Other than the mayor asking for me, why am I here?”

  Jake’s powerful voice halted me in my tracks. “Miss Summers. I am a member at the club in question, but I’m not trained as a detective. Your eyes, ears, and skills are what this task force needs. And it’s precisely your background that allows you to come with me.”

  As his submissive. I wasn’t a fool. My gaze lasered in on his, and he met my ferocity without flinching. Bastard had stronger nerves than I did because I broke eye contact first.

  “I know exactly what you want.”

  He wanted me to submit to him. Not as a role I played for some case. Jake desired something much more dangerous. The worst thing about it was I might actually want the same thing. My resolve never to go down that path wavered with Jake, but it didn’t break.

  I pressed my finger to the tabletop. “You couldn’t let me decide. You just had to push.” I reached into my pocket and fingered the folded piece of paper nestled inside. “Jake Davenport, go fuck yourself. Pete, may I have a word with you outside?”

  I pushed away from the table and turned toward the door. My gait stiff and rigid, I marched out of the bullpen, emerald scarf flapping with my hasty retreat. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t process anything except for the thumping of my heart. Jake’s kiss replayed in my mind, soft, tender, controlling, and so very delicious.

  My heels clicked over the polished linoleum, providing a strong counterpoint to the swirl of emotions buffeting me. By the time I made it outside, Pete caught up to me. Slightly disappointed to see him and not Jake, I decided it was for the best. Jake might have found himself in the emergency room when I kneed him in his groin, and I’d probably find myself in front of one of those desks, being processed on the wrong side of the law.

  The late-morning sun shone down on me and glinted off the paint of my car, blinding me. Or maybe those were tears. I shoved my key into the door lock, desperate to get out of there.

  “Kate,” wheezed Pete as he ran up. “What was that? I thought you wanted to work this case.”

  “I do, and I am, but I’m doing it my way. You don’t understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  “What Jake’s trying to do.”

  Movement in my peripheral vision had me turning too slow. A strong arm pinned me against the frame of the car, causing me to cry out with alarm. Pete didn’t even flinch.

  A sense of déjà vu settled over me.

  “What the hell do you think I’m trying to do?” Jake’s hand slapped down on the hood of my car. Steel-blue eyes simmered with angry passion. His chest pumped, expanding with each pull of his breath.

  Not only had he done this caged-in technique before, but he’d asked that same question. Damn him for the intimidation tactic, and damn him for thinking I didn’t care about justice. I ducked to escape, but he held me, trapped and wanting, with Pete doing nothing to help me out.

  “You’re acting like a child,” Jake chastised me. “Stop running.”

  “I’m not running.”

  His eyes flared as the lie spilled from my lips.

  His lower lip curled inward. A groan escaped me, thinking about him kissing me. So fucking tempting. The corners of his lips curved up, and my gaze snapped back to his eyes. Only his attention was focused on my lips, and that had me breathing deeply with anticipation. His pupils dilated.

  Holy shit.

  He leaned forward. “You run every chance you get. Why is that? For a Domme, you’re very afraid to be near me.” He tilted his head forward, letting his forehead rest on mine. Our breaths mingled, and the heady intoxication of his masculine scent had me dizzy and aroused.

  I allowed my hands to wander down his shoulders and land across the defined ridges of his chest. “I can’t—”

  His finger traced the corner of my jaw, lingering on my lips. “We both need this.”

  Pete cleared his throat. Neither Jake nor I paid him any attention.

  I tried to jerk away, needing to end our little confrontation, but his fingers curled in my hair, pulling at the roots. He forced me to face him.

  Hovering frustratingly close to my lips, he spoke in a rich baritone. “Come to me, Kate.” He pressed his lips to the soft hollow of my neck.

  His voice speared me right to my core, stoking my desire. A slow burn invaded my chest. If only it were that easy.

  Jake nibbled his way up to my lips, then captured my mouth. His tongue jutted forward, invading and taking what he wanted. Like the kiss in the parking lot at Stripes, he wasn’t slow or gentle. He didn’t ask for permission. He took what he wanted, and he wanted me.

  I loved every bit of him taking control. I needed strength in the man I chose to submit to. I wouldn’t make it easy on him. He’d have to strip control from me, then gently return it when I needed it most.

  His fingers stroked the angles of my jaw. “Look at me.”

  Power flooded his voice, and I found myself compelled to obey, loving the warmth and energy of his words.

  Could he feel the thunder of my pulse? A dizzying sensation flitted in my chest.

  He let his fingers dip down, hovering over the swell of my breasts. The tantalizing promise had my nipples peaking with excitement. He turned his hand over and brushed them with the back of his knuckles.

  Breath stuttered out of my lungs as he trapped an erect nipple.

  Magnetic eyes bore into mine. “Tonight you’re mine.”

  He put a slow, steady pressure on my nipple. Pleasant at first, the zing of pain lifted the corner of my mouth i
n a smile. That is what I wanted. He continued to apply pressure until he had me on my toes, panting against the pain.

  “Say yes,” he demanded.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out the papers inside. “Here.”

  He released me and took two steps back. His brows knitted in confusion as he stared at the paper. “What’s this?”

  “My answer.”

  I turned to Pete, who had backed some distance away and looked very uncomfortable. He’d witnessed the entire scene slack-jawed and silent.

  With a smile, I encouraged him over. “Get in the car, you idiot.”

  He looked unsure. “Um, why?”

  Jake unfolded the paper I’d given him, his eyes widening as he read the list of my limits. I took advantage of his distraction to jump in the car. I turned the key and slammed it into gear as Pete slid in beside me.

  As I barreled out of the lot, Pete glanced at me. “What’s going on? And where are you taking me?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kate

  As I floored the ’Cuda, it occurred to me a police parking lot might not be the best place to be putting the pedal to the metal. However, if someone stopped us, I’d claim we were chasing down a lead. Pete would back me up. He always did.

  A few deep breaths failed to calm the swirling ache in my chest. This had nothing to do with Pete, and it wasn’t fair to put him in the middle of it. I’d spent all last night coming to the decision to hand that piece of paper over to Jake, submit to his authority if only under the guise of following the leads this case brought to me. But I knew.

  Deep in my heart, I couldn’t hide from the truth or my deepest desires.

  That man stirred something dangerous within me, and God help me if I didn’t want to explore it.

  On my terms. Not his. Or theirs. I wouldn’t be bullied into a submissive role.

  I pressed my fingers to my temple as pressure built behind my eyes. “Did you know? Did you know they were going to use him?”

  “Kate, I swear. I had no idea. He came in this morning to meet with me like we agreed. I met his business partner, Kevin Saterly, and we talked about the video. Then they showed me the second one they uncovered. There’s serious tech in that club of theirs, by the way. Impressive setup they have going. I brought in Captain Marshall, and next I knew, Saterly’s in with our tech team and Davenport is sitting in the bullpen.”

  “Jake wants me to be his submissive.”

  “Well, that was the plan. If you had stayed, the Captain would have laid it all out for you, and it makes perfect sense to send you undercover. You have the training—”

  Yes, I had the training, and I had the plan, and I had too much personal pride to have my idea thrust upon me by a bunch of clueless pricks who had no idea what this would do to my life. I hadn’t appreciated the ambush, and I’d reacted like a child. I shouldn’t have stormed out like I had, but then I’d never been very well behaved.

  I blew out a breath and lied to my friend. “I’m not a submissive. I have to become one if I do this.”

  “What’s so hard about that?”

  “Absolutely everything.”

  He gave me a look saying he didn’t understand, then waved away my concerns. “What’s the big deal? It’s all just pretend anyway.”

  The light in front of us turned red, and I slammed on the brake, pitching us against our seat belts.

  Pete continued to ramble, his lack of understanding about the lifestyle showing through. “You want to tell me where you’re kidnapping me to?” He winked at me. “And maybe slow down a bit? He’s not following us.”

  “Just looking into some loose ends. We’re going to the Jordanian embassy.”

  Pete’s brows scrunched on his forehead. “What kind of loose ends are you talking about? The kind that maybe you should share with the team?”

  I shrugged. That wasn’t my team in there, not anymore. “After I’m done chasing it down, maybe.”

  “Captain Marshall is going to chew my ass for leaving, and I don’t think he likes you using his first name. You know that, right?” His nose crinkled. “What does the Jordanian embassy have to do with the case?”

  “One of the last two people who saw Elizabeth alive is Jordanian, the other is his slave. He claims he was going to marry Elizabeth. I’m going to check on his story.”

  “And you think the embassy is going to just let you walk in and start demanding stuff?” He gave a snort.

  “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m expecting. Mr. Imman set up the meeting. I’m reviewing the intake videos of Elizabeth and his other slave, Sandra Hulsey. He tried to hire me to find Elizabeth, didn’t know she’d died. You should have seen his reaction. I also have some more questions for Sandra.”

  I wanted to get the story about who trained Elizabeth out of Sandra. Two women training as slaves to the same man either hated each other or traded every intimate detail of their lives. I counted on the latter.

  “You know I can’t just take off,” he said.

  “Relax. I’ll give you pointers on the way there for your first time with Mistress Mandy.” A grin pulled at the corners of my lips, knowing that would catch his interest.

  “I am so going to regret this. I’m texting Janice and letting her know what’s going on.”

  I grabbed the cell phone out of his hands. “No, this is my contact. We investigate first. Share later.”

  “Share now.” He grabbed his phone back and tucked it into his pocket. “Tell me everything about Mandy.” He broke out into a huge, hungry grin.

  I laughed. “Mistress Mandy to you…and for starters, she loves her riding crop.”

  His eyes widened. “Oh. Really?”

  The drive took less than an hour. Pete’s questions kept me talking the whole time. A very excited first-time submissive squirmed in the seat beside me.

  Fahd Imman met us out front and had Sandra with him. He held her hand, looking like a man thoroughly bewitched and in love.

  “Good afternoon, Detective Summers.” He extended a warm hand and held mine in a sure grip.

  “Mr. Imman, it’s nice to see you. Thank you for arranging to meet with me.”

  I gestured to Pete. “Mr. Imman, this is Detective Pete Lawry. He’s a member of the team investigating Elizabeth’s murder.”

  Fahd released my hand and thrust it toward Pete. “Thank you for all your help. Detective, this is my…my fiancée, Sandra.” He pulled Sandra close to his body, his possession clear. Didn’t allow her anything more than a quick bob. He then gestured toward the door. “I have the videos you requested pulled up by the staff, and I’ve asked them to answer any questions you may have of them.”

  A quick jerk of my chin, and I headed for the front doors. “Thank you.”

  A woman dressed in a conservative dress and hijab came out to greet us. Pete found a way to take Fahd aside for questioning. He pulled out his pad of paper, then went all detective mode on poor Fahd. Sandra stayed with her Master, hovering in his shadow.

  Meanwhile, I followed the consulate employee into a back conference area where she queued up the video of Elizabeth’s interview, then retreated to the back of the room.

  In the video Elizabeth fidgeted, her fingers playing with the headscarf concealing her hair, eyes darting about the room. She sat across from a Jordanian male, eyes appropriately lowered. Another woman sat beside her, dressed in a business suit, headscarf in place, and wearing a consulate name tag.

  I ran the interview through to the end, the sound off, my eyes scanning Elizabeth’s body for signs of stress or coercion. Finding none, I reran the video, this time with the sound on. I closed my eyes and listened, hoping my ears would pick up any subtle clues pressuring Elizabeth to join Fahd against her will. Nothing indicated a reason to be concerned. A third run through, this time the sound and video streaming together, showed Elizabeth excited and nervous. I detected no signs of coercion.

  I turned to my silent shadow. “Can you pull up the tape of Miss Hulsey’s inter
view?”

  “Yes, Detective Summers,” said the consulate employee. She stepped forward and took control of the computer mouse. A few clicks later, and I repeated the entire process with Sandra’s tape.

  Same story. Both women appeared nervous but willing to leave their country behind. I spun in my seat and pressed my palms on the rich mahogany table. “How often do you see this kind of arrangement?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “How often do American women marry men from your country?” I couldn’t imagine it happened often. The cultural gap was pretty wide. Not to mention the religion.

  The woman shrugged. “It is unusual, but it happens.” She pressed her hands to her knees. “There is another video Mr. Imman asked to show you. If it pleases you?”

  I nodded my assent.

  The woman queued up a third video.

  Sandra and Elizabeth sat together in a room, looking nervous, holding each other’s hands. An elderly gentleman entered accompanied by an older female.

  “Who is that?” I pointed at the screen.

  “Those are Mr. Imman’s parents. When they found out about the engagement, they flew in to meet the brides. Mr. Imman did not know about this meeting when it happened. Please watch the screen.”

  The older man sat across from the girls. He wore a dark business suit and crossed his arms over his chest. A dark, curly beard obscured his facial features. He didn’t speak during the entire exchange. Instead, the woman beside him carried the conversation. She wore the traditional hijab and modest, loose-fitting clothes covering her arms and legs. She pushed a stack of papers across to each of the girls and began speaking about contracts, but in this video the accent was so thick I could not understand what was being said.

  I turned to the woman standing beside me. “I don’t get it.”

  “Mr. Imman’s mother is asking his fiancées to sign what would be the equivalent of American prenuptial contracts for our country. They did not trust these American girls.”

  “Oh.” Sounded reasonable. So why did the woman beside me sound impressed?

  She pointed to the screen. “Watch, please.”