by Maggie Ryan
“You’re right,” Dillon interrupted. “This is your bust. Let me get Lucy and we’ll start.”
Charlize got through the next several hours solely by concentrating on her job. Various people came and went but she remained, issuing orders, directing teams, witnessing the search authorized by warrants being executed by teams of agents and their partners, resulting in the discovery of more drugs and money than they’d even expected.
“Shit, I’ve seen a lot of busts, but this is unbelievable,” Dillon said as the last panel was removed. Stacks of white bricks were lined up behind a false wall in one of the outlying buildings. Another building held a lab where the cocaine was cut and packaged to be sold after being smuggled in from Mexico. They’d also confiscated enough neatly packaged currency to have paid for the property a hundred times over, including the money the undercover officer Cortez had turned over in exchange for becoming the group’s newest partner. Hundreds of head of cattle grazed in the surrounding fields, a perfect cover for what was, in reality, a huge drug running operation in Brownsville, Texas, practically spitting distance from Mexico.
It was another two hours before she and Dillon left the ranch, and when they walked into the station, it was to see Captain James Morrow’s eyes widening at the sight of the FBI special agent’s bare chest beneath his vest and a DEA agent dressed in nothing but a t-shirt and high heels.
“What the hell happened to your clothes?”
Charlize shrugged. “It was a sex party, Captain. Debriefing in the conference room, right?”
“Not looking like that, you don’t. Go change, Fullerton.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, changing direction and heading the opposite way. Opening the metal door of a locker, she pulled on the clothes she’d shed so many hours ago. She couldn’t bring herself to strip and shower, telling herself that the others were waiting. Entering the conference room, she accepted a mug of coffee from Officer Cortez.
“Thanks, how’s your nose?”
“Fine, look, I’m sorry it took so long, Charlie… they counted and checked every single bill or else I’d have been done before you had to—”
“Don’t worry about it. We got them,” Charlie said, cutting him off and pulling out a chair to join those already seated around the table.
Hours passed as the personnel making up the task force went over every step of the sting from the moment she’d entered the house until the moment she’d arrived at the station.
“So that’s that,” Morrow said, the chair creaking beneath his weight as he leaned back. “This is the largest drug bust we’ve ever had.” Meeting Charlize’s eyes, he said, “You were right; all but two of the women had been smuggled across the border. Most paid all they had for the promise of a green card and a job. None expected the job to be as… um… escorts. You did good, Agent Fullerton. Sorenson’s gang will be unlikely to see the light of day for the next century or so. We’ve finally got them.”
“The team did good,” she countered. Looking around the table, she continued. “It took months and the cooperation of the FBI, DEA, ICE, and local law enforcement, but yeah, we got them.”
The door opened and Stephanie Hiller walked in. The fact that the district attorney wasn’t smiling telegraphed that the team wouldn’t be allowed to bask in the captain’s praise for long. “We’ve got a problem.”
When she didn’t elaborate, Morrow leaned forward again. “Are we supposed to play twenty fucking questions? Spit it out.”
“Sorenson is calling foul. He’s claiming entrapment and states he was assaulted by Agent Fullerton. That she had a knife and tried to stab—”
“That’s bullshit,” Cortez said. “Where in the hell would she get a knife? She was buck ass naked for God’s sake!”
Charlize appreciated his coming instantly to her defense, but could have done without the disclosure of her lack of attire. Not only the captain and the district attorney, but even the stenographer taking notes looked in her direction. She did notice that the task force members were making it a point to look elsewhere.
“That true?” Morrow asked.
“That I was nude—”
The captain waved his hand. “Not that part. The part about entrapment.”
“Absolutely not, I’m not some fucking rookie.” She glared at the district attorney. “You can’t possibly believe him. He’s just fishing.”
Hiller slid into the chair opposite Charlize. “I’m on your side here.” After Charlize nodded, she continued, “He states he specifically asked if you were a cop before… engaging you, and that you lied.”
Charlize’s exhaustion didn’t keep her anger at bay. Locking her eyes with the district attorney, she stated in a cold voice. “He asked and I evaded. He then took his knife and cut my clothes off looking for a wire.”
“Do you remember if anyone was around who could validate your answer?”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, if Charlie states she didn’t lie, then she didn’t,” Dillon said, exasperation evident in his tone.
“Look, I’m just telling you what Sorenson is going to be claiming to his lawyers, so how about doing us all a favor and stop shooting the messenger, okay? Were you in the room to witness the exchange, Special Agent MacAllister?”
“Fuck, if I’d been in the room, there would never have been an exchange.”
“Exactly my point. So, unless one of Sorenson’s guests disputes his claim, then, like I said, it could be a problem. Not an insurmountable one as Agent Fullerton’s record will be considered.”
Charlie saw Dillon’s jaw clench “It’s all right. I don’t need anyone to validate my story,” she said, unfastening the band of the watch on her wrist and flipping it across the table. “Check the tape. I didn’t lie and I didn’t assault the shithead. I defended myself. The man’s a criminal. You can’t be surprised to discover he’s a lying sonofabitch as well.”
Stephanie looked at the watch and then grinned. “So not totally naked, huh? Good for you for remembering to accessorize. I’ve heard of these, but haven’t seen one. Please tell me they really work.”
Charlize’s anger slipped away as she understood the woman was just doing her job and was now attempting to defuse the tension. “Let’s just say that by the time you’ve got the recording transcribed, you’ll have no doubt that Sorenson’s hook came back empty.”
“It’s my biggest dream to slam the door on his cage and throw away the damn key,” Hiller said.
Charlize knew they all felt the same. Sorenson’s operation had run drugs and human beings across the border for years. He’d always hidden behind his ranch, his family name, his political connections. But this time, after months of blood, sweat, and tears, they had him. She turned to the captain. “Are we about done here?”
“Yes,” Captain Morrow said after glancing at the sunlight streaming through the cheap venetian blinds at the window. “Go home and get some rest. It’ll take weeks to sort through all this shit, but for now, it can wait. Good job everyone.”
Dawn had long come and gone by the time Charlize stepped out of the station. Despite the blazing heat, she shuddered.
“Come on, I’ll treat you to breakfast,” Dillon said, reaching out to take her arm, dropping his hand when she flinched. “Hey, you okay, Charlie?”
“I’m fine—”
“So you do lie,” he countered.
“What?”
“It’s just me, Charlie. No team, no captain, no DA. You’re not fine. You are shaking…” When she opened her mouth, he shook his head. “What you did tonight was incredible, but it also had a high price. A check you picked up by yourself. It’s all right to be shaken. And don’t bother to tell me you aren’t. It’s probably ninety degrees out here already, and yet you’ve got that blazer buttoned all the way. I just want you to know that I’m here if you need to talk or just to listen if you want to scream, or hell, I’ll even take a few punches if you want to hit something.”
She saw the concern reflected in his eyes. “I know. T
hanks for having my back, at the ranch and in there,” she said, nodding to indicate the building behind them.
“That’s what partners do,” he said, brushing off her thanks.
Charlize knew that they weren’t technically partners, but appreciated the sentiment. “Thanks again for the offer, but I’m afraid I’d do a face plant into my pancakes.”
“Yeah, you do look beat. Look, let me drive you home. You can pick up your car tomorrow.”
“Thanks, but no. You go on. You know how Lucy is. She won’t actually believe you are fine until she sees you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’ll be fine. Give her a hug for me. She and the others did an amazing job. I’m going to fall into bed and just sleep.” They continued towards the parking lot where he waited until she slid into her Tahoe before giving a wave and moving to his rental car. Charlize knew she’d just lied to him. She had no intention of falling into bed… well, not yet. She’d not be able to sleep until she scrubbed every single inch of her skin. From the moment Sorenson had touched her, she’d felt dirty. No, she corrected herself. Not dirty… filthy. Even if the bastard hadn’t destroyed her clothes, she never would have worn them again.
Chapter 2
Her fingers were trembling as she unbuttoned the navy blue blazer. It took far too long to slip the buttons from the buttonholes down the front of her white blouse and to peel out of the navy blue pants. For the first time, the ensemble she considered her official ‘uniform’, hadn’t made her feel proud, and somehow Dillon had known that. By the time Charlize actually got into her bath, tired had been replaced by utter exhaustion. Groaning, she sank into the steaming water and reached for the loofah. Not allowing the tenderness caused by the paddling to stop her, she soaped and scrubbed repeatedly, not setting it aside until every inch of her skin was red. Not trusting her legs to support her, she turned the water on again and reached for the hand-held shower unit. She flinched a bit as the stream hit her head, but gritted her teeth and washed her hair. Pulling the plug, she watched the small funnel appear as the water drained. With every inch that lowered in the tub, she told herself that the filth she’d felt at Sorenson’s touch was being sucked away, but was afraid she was only attempting to fool herself.
Using her hands to push up, she couldn’t contain a soft groan the motion required to stand. For a woman in great physical condition, she suddenly felt like an old lady—brittle, weak, fragile.
“Stop it!” she chastised. “You’re supposed to be stronger than this.”
Stepping over the rim of the bathtub, she grabbed a towel and began to dry off. Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror on the back of the door, she froze. Bruises had bloomed on her breasts from where Sorenson had mauled her. The hand in the mirror lifted and moved towards a nipple and the woman standing alone and naked winced at the gentle touch. Turning slightly, she saw that her ass was also bruised and the image in the mirror shifted.
“Why do you use your hand first?”
“Any good dominant knows that it’s important to take the time to warm his submissive slowly, to allow the blood to come to the surface. I don’t want you to bruise… well, not easily, and not with the first stroke.”
She’d felt a delicious shiver of anticipation run through as he had continued to place swats all across the surface of her ass.
Lifting her head and looking over her shoulder, she’d smiled. “Hmm, that sounds a bit too convenient… for the Dom that is.”
Charlize had indeed felt warmth flooding through her when he’d grinned. “Believe me, it’s for your own good.” When she rolled her eyes, he had chuckled. “And, young lady, you’ll learn that a submissive rolling her eyes is apt to earn herself extra strokes.”
She’d still not been able to hold back her smile as she’d relaxed over his lap. For the first time in her life, she had felt that it was all right to enjoy kink, to let herself trust someone to take her to places she’d always dreamed about, but never explored. She worked so hard, pushed herself to the limit in a world demanding perfection, her shoulders bent beneath the weight of responsibility and proving that a woman could handle the job of a DEA agent. But that night, in the safety of the club, she could just be Charlie—a woman who craved to submit to someone. To no longer be tough, to be soft and pliant under a dominant’s hand.
“Good girl,” he’d said, as he sat back and resumed his ‘warm up’ that felt suspiciously like a spanking to her—granted, a very sexy spanking—but nonetheless, a spanking. By the time the dominant guided her off his lap and led her to the St. Andrew’s cross, she still wasn’t sure his story held any truth, but was absolutely positive that she was burning and eager to take their play to a much deeper level.
A soft moan snapped her out of the memory. What the hell? She’d honestly believed she would do her job and come out of it unscathed. It wasn’t like she’d never played before—didn’t know what to expect. But, instead of the rush, the pleasure she always experienced playing at a club, the flushed skin, the bright eyes, she… Looking up, the mirror showed a woman whose eyes were filled with pain… and not from the bruises that decorated her body. Forcing herself not to drop her eyes, to face her reflection head on, she said, “Sorenson isn’t a dominant… he’s a fucking sadist. A criminal. And you aren’t his submissive so stop trying to convince yourself this was just a trip to a club for a little kinky R&R. It was just a job. Forget it and move on.”
She tightened the towel around her torso, tucking the ends together above her breasts. She’d only managed to begin to comb out her wet hair when the pull of its teeth caused her to gasp. Forcing back the tears she could feel threatening to well at the pain from having her hair not only pulled, but actual strands ripped from her scalp, she slammed the comb onto the counter and fled the room and its mirrors that revealed too much.
The trill of her cellphone split the silence.
“God, I can’t… please just let me sleep,” she said, returning to the bathroom to dig the phone from the pocket of her blazer, only to have it stop ringing.
Sighing, she retraced her steps, set the phone on the nightstand and pulled back the bedspread. She was so exhausted; she was swaying on her feet. Too tired to even think, she dropped the towel and slid between the sheets. She’d just closed her eyes when a tone again sounded signaling she’d received a text message.
“I swear to God, if you tell me to come back in, I’m going to shoot someone!” Pulling the phone to her, she swept her finger over the message icon.
Just wanted to say I’m proud of you. You’re one hell of an agent. Oh, and Lucy sends her love. Good night, Charlie.
It was just a note from one agent to another and yet, Charlie felt her eyes well. The shame that had flooded her in the bathroom, the knowledge that Dillon had seen her naked, bruised, and the fear that he judged her had only added to that shame. And yet, the simple text and words of praise pushed some of the shame away. Her fingers flew to answer.
I needed that. Tell Lucy she’s a very lucky lady to have you for her partner. Good night, Dillon, and thanks.
Two Weeks Later
“So, where do you go from here?”
Popping the tortilla chip she’d just loaded with salsa into her mouth, Charlie chewed and swallowed before answering.
“Believe it or not, I’m being forced to take vacation.”
“Shit, Charlie, you make it sound like you expect to be tortured.”
“Very funny,” she said, another chip already dipped into the bowl as she shook her head and looked across the table at Dillon. “Seriously though, I don’t think I even know what that word means anymore. What do people actually do on vacation?”
“It depends on what you’re into. You can either sign-up for some adventure…” He paused as he moved out of the booth to stand.
“What’s wrong?” Surprised at his abrupt movement, she turned to look behind her and saw a man approaching. Leaving the chip in the salsa, she scooted to the edge of the bench
and had just made it to her feet when Captain Morrow arrived.
“Fullerton, do you ever wear an actual uniform?”
Charlize glanced down at her clothing which consisted of an A&M sweatshirt, a pair of jeans that had holes at the knees and her favorite pair of sneakers. Looking back at the captain, she said, “Don’t tell me; you’re a University of Texas man?” She reached for the cloth napkin on the table and tucked it into the neckline of her sweatshirt, covering up the large “Gig Em Aggies” logo. Smoothing it down with her fingers, she looked up. “Better?”
The captain rolled his eyes, but Charlize saw his lips twitch as he shook his head. “You’re a smartass, Fullerton.” He paused and held out his hand. “You’re also one hell of a cop. I just wanted to stop by and say thank you. You’re both welcome to come back anytime.”
Charlize was touched. Ignoring his extended hand, she stepped closer, lifting up onto her toes and buzzed his cheek with her lips. “Thanks, Captain. You run a good ship.”
His face flushed, but his eyes twinkled as she stepped back. “You made a believer out of me. Even with all the goddamn red tape, combined agencies are the way to go if we’re ever going to win the war against drugs and smuggling. You take care of yourself, Charlize.”
“I will, sir.” She watched as he made his way towards the door, laughing when he lifted his hand over his head, giving her the ‘Hook’em Horns’ sign. Slipping back into the booth, she said, “Wow, that was unexpected.”
“What? That he is a UT fan or that he wanted to express his appreciation?” Dillon asked, taking his seat and picking up his bottle of beer. “The man may be a little rough, but he’s a good guy.”
Charlize shook her head, and lifted her glass. “I know he’s a good guy. I just didn’t think he actually knew my first name.”
Dillon chuckled. “He’s right, you know. You are a smartass.”
Flapping her hand, she said, “So, go on. You were giving me the definition of vacation. So, adventure, huh?”