A Dead Man's Pulse

by Samantha A. Cole

  She smiled back, liking the man even more as he was treating her as an equal and not a peon. “Absolutely, sir. If you don’t mind me asking, what does Trident have to do with this?” Dakota had heard about the private security company located in Tampa. It was comprised of retired members of the military, mostly Navy SEALs, and was well respected among the law enforcement agencies in the area.

  “Not as much as I’d like.” He gave an annoyed side glance in Parrish’s direction. “Since I own The Covenant with my brother and cousin, we’ve been brought in as consultants, nothing more.”

  Wow! Not only was the hottie a retired SEAL and a Dom, but he owned the most elite BDSM club on the Gulf Coast of Florida.

  The FBI agent raised an eyebrow at Sawyer. “We’ve been through this before. Dickhead . . . I mean, Stonewall, is in charge of Tampa, and I’m here just for this case. He has final say on personnel at the moment. It doesn’t work in your favor that you continue to piss him off every chance you get.”

  “I can’t help it—it’s my charming personality.” Sawyer’s droll tone of voice had Dakota chuckling. She wondered what he was like when he was in full-Dom mode—probably terrifying and panty-dropping at the same time.

  Parrish rolled his eyes and stood. “Officer Swift, welcome aboard. We’ll see you at three at the FBI office. I’ll leave your name at the front desk. After you check in, head up to the fourth floor and ask anyone where the task force is meeting.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Dakota responded as she stood with the other two men. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  She shook hands with Sawyer and Parrish, but when she turned to Bowman, he indicated for her to sit back down. “I’d like a few more minutes with you, Swift.”

  As the others left, she sat again. Bowman strode across the room to his desk, retrieved a folder, and returned to his seat. When he opened the file, she was surprised to see the first page was an application to join SOD with her signature at the bottom. It was one of five that she’d submitted before finally giving up hope of being transferred into the coveted division.

  Bowman leaned against the chair back and his gaze met hers. “Why didn’t you submit an application two months ago when another position opened?”

  Seriously? Her jaw tightened. “It was obvious after five attempts I wasn’t going to get the transfer, so I set my sights on the detective bureau and the supervisor’s test.”

  The man nodded in understanding. “I assume you’ve wondered why you were repeatedly passed over.”

  “I did.” She wasn’t sure where he was going with this, and there was no way she was going to make it easy on him.

  “For the record, I just took over the division three months ago after a promotion when Captain Fallon retired. I’ve been impressed with your record for several years now, and every time a position opened, I pushed for you to be given the spot. Each time, Fallon tossed your file aside without even looking at it. It had nothing to do with you, and everything to do with the fact that Fallon hated your father. The two of them had gone to the academy together, and, I guess, rubbed each other the wrong way.”

  Dakota gaped at the supervisor. All this time, she’d figured someone had a hard-on for her and that was why she’d been passed over. Never had it occurred to her it was due to a dispute between her father and the head of the division.

  “I’ve got two positions opening in the next few months. One UC is retiring and another recently got engaged and decided to go back to patrol. If you’re still interested, I’d like to see your name on the application list again. Prove yourself on this case, and I can almost guarantee one of the positions is yours.” He added with a grin, “Since I’m the one who makes those decisions now.”

  “Th-thank you, Captain. I’m honored.”

  “You’re welcome, Swift. Just don’t screw up between now and then and make me regret this conversation.”

  There was no way she was going to screw up. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she fought the urge to throw a fist in the air in celebration.

  When the captain stood, she followed and shook his outstretched hand. “Thank you again, sir. Will you be at the meeting later?”

  “I’ll see you then. Head on back to your station. I’ll call your lieutenant now and tell him you’re assigned to me until we catch this bastard.”

  Dakota almost ran out of the building. When she climbed into the passenger seat of the patrol car, she slammed the door shut, looked at Ric, and then yelled “Yes!” at the top of her lungs.

  C

  HAPTER 6

  Logan glanced around Ian’s Oasis, the backyard setup that had been built between the third and fourth warehouses in the compound housing Trident Security and the Sawyers’ other business, The Covenant. After finding out about the BDSM club during a weekend trip to Tampa, shortly after accepting Ian’s job offer, he’d done a little research on the lifestyle. The Sawyer brothers had been adamant about their new employees signing non-disclosure agreements specifically for the club, in addition to ones for the cases Trident was involved in. They’d also warned that any negativity expressed toward gays, the opposite gender, or members of the lifestyle would result in immediate termination. Logan’s cousin was a lesbian and, since he was close to her, he’d accepted the whole LGBT community without prejudice while he was still in high school.

  Due to the intense scrutiny they’d been subjected to in order to be hired, all members of the Omega Team were allowed in the club, even though Cain Foster and Tristan McCabe, the co-team leaders, were the only two who participated in the lifestyle. If any of the others wanted to participate, they had to go through training and bi-annual physicals and blood work. In the five months Logan had been working for Trident, he’d been in the club a few times, but never during open hours.

  After accepting Ian’s job offer, Logan had spent the next six months throwing all his time and energy into making sure when he got to Tampa he was in fighting shape again—mentally and physically. Between his sessions with Dr. Tennyson and hitting the gym, firing range, and sparring mats, as ordered by his new boss, he’d made a large leap back into the land of the living. He’d forced himself to meet up with old friends and fellow Marines for some fun, and had gotten involved with the local American Legion post. He had even been attending group therapy with other veterans who’d gone through their own personal hell and somehow survived. Dr. T. had recommended it, to remind him life still went on, and, despite what he’d been through, it was okay to smile and laugh again. It was his tribute to his fallen buddies—to try and enjoy life for them, instead of mourning the fact they couldn’t do it themselves.

  Before he left Washington D.C., en route to Tampa, he’d gone to Arlington National Cemetery one more time. His twice weekly visits had become a habit. He’d sit and update Clutch and the others with what was going on in his life and the lives of the other members of the 2nd Marine Raider Battalion—he’d only wished the one-sided talks gave him the peace he was searching for.

  He hadn’t seen little Charlie and his mother, Dawn Roberts, again until his final trip to the grave sites. Whether it was irony or fate, he’d been glad to run into them. Charlie had grown an inch or two during those six months, but he was still the wide-eyed kid who believed in real-life heroes. Logan had told them a little about his new job in Tampa, and when they wished him luck, he’d given Dawn his email address in case Charlie wanted to write to him. His new pen pal had sent him an email that night, and Logan still heard from the boy every Sunday.

  Why Ian and Devon Sawyer were willing to take a chance on him, Logan would probably never know, but he was grateful they had. As a member of the Trident Security Omega Team, he now had something to look forward to—a reason to put those nightmares and the failed mission behind him. He just hoped he didn’t fuck it up. His team would be counting on him, and he didn’t want to let them down. To do so, might be fatal—for him or them.

  After arriving in Tampa to start his new career, he’d spent the first night
in a bunk room at the Trident compound, while waiting for a moving van to arrive with his shit. One of his new teammates, Valentino Mancini, had passed on the information, through the company’s secretary Colleen, of an apartment for rent in the complex where he was living. Logan had contacted the leasing company and, based on the pictures they’d emailed him and Mancini’s recommendation, had signed a rental agreement before leaving D.C. He’d wanted his own space where he could get some time alone if needed—something that wasn’t entirely possible at the compound since sometimes the two teams hung out in the great room near the bunks. There was a TV with a gaming system, a small kitchenette, a pool table, a foosball table, and a dart board for everyone to enjoy.

  When he’d gotten settled, he’d met with Dr. Dunbar and found he liked her as much as he did Dr. T. With Logan’s approval, the latter had sent his new psychologist the notes she’d made on him over the six months he’d been seeing her, so Dr. Dunbar could easily pick up where they’d left off. Between the two doctors, it had gotten easier to talk about what he’d gone through; however, not every session was a cakewalk. But now, instead of wallowing in self-pity and guilt, and attempting to drown himself in alcohol, he turned to exercise and meditation—and two beers was now his maximum in a twenty-four hour period.

  The other demand his new boss had made had been completed yesterday. Logan had sat down with Ian, Devon, and his new team and told them what he could about what had happened in Afghanistan. While his stomach had clenched at the thought of spilling his guts to them and possibly having them refuse to work with him, he understood why it had to be done. None of the Omega Team had ever worked with each other before, and trust between them was something that needed to be built up and earned for the team to be successful. Logan was grateful the whole “Hi, my name is Logan and I’m a former POW who was hours away from being tortured to death before I was rescued” announcement was done with, and he was still part of Omega. The other members had voted unanimously for him to remain on the team with the condition that he’d tell them if he couldn’t handle an assignment or his PTSD reared its ugly head.

  “Hey, Cowboy, you doing okay?”

  Lindsey “Costello” Abbott’s voice brought Logan back to the present, and he smiled at the female sniper who was splitting her time on assignments with both the Alpha and Omega teams. “Doing just fine. Better than I have in a very long time.”

  “Good to hear,” Kip “Skipper” Morrison said as he slapped Logan on the back. In addition to being retired from the Army, the man had come to Trident from LAPD’s SWAT team, returning to the state he’d grown up in. “Just remember that feeling when the bosses dump us in the Rockies next month.”

  Yeah, none of them were looking forward to leaving the warmth of Florida for the snow-covered Colorado Rocky Mountains in a few weeks. It would be their final training mission before the Sawyers released the Omega Team out on their own assignments without being paired with an Alpha Team member. They’d be dropped into the wilderness by helicopter with two days to make it back to civilization, with minimal supplies and relying on each other to get there. A satellite phone would be on hand for emergencies, but only life-threatening injuries were included in that category.

  Clearly having overheard the conversation, Darius “Batman” Knight joined the trio as he swallowed a mouthful of beer. “Definitely remember that. I’m sure Ian’s got some surprises in store for us.” Retired from the Navy, the man had served on SEAL Team Four with all six members of the Alpha Team and knew them well. And as Logan had gotten to know his new bosses, he was inclined to agree with Knight. “The son of a bitch knows how to throw the fucking proverbial curve ball, so you better learn to duck.”

  The small group’s laughter drew a few glances from the larger crowd who’d gathered to celebrate Ian and Angie’s pregnancy announcement. Both teams, family members, and friends of the couple were present while Nick Sawyer and Jake Donovan, Ian’s brother and teammate respectively, checked in via Skype from their condo in San Diego. The two men were a couple and would be moving back to Tampa in a few short months after Nick finished his last commitment with the Navy on SEAL Team Three. Donovan had been in California the past eighteen months or so setting up the Trident Security West Coast team, which would be doing their own final training mission in the Rockies two weeks after Omega.

  Other Trident employees in attendance included office manager Colleen Helm, with her husband/Dom Reggie who was a lawyer for the Sawyer brothers’ businesses, and Nathan Cook, a computer guru who’d previously worked for the National Security Agency (NSA). Tempest “Babs” Van Buren, a kick-ass helicopter pilot and mechanic, and her assistant Russell Adams who was retired from the Navy, were also enjoying the party. The latter had his PTSD service dog, a Rottweiler named Jagger, almost glued to his leg. From what Logan had learned, the dog’s presence had made a dramatic, positive change in the former homeless man’s life.

  “What? Who?” Everyone’s attention was drawn to Ian at his shocked questions barked into his cell phone. His eyes went wide. “Are you fu—” He stopped short when he noticed his adult goddaughter Jenn was nearby with little Mara, the daughter of Alpha Team member Marco “Polo” DeAngelis. The toddler’s ears picked up everything lately, which she would then try to repeat. “Are you kidding me? That’s insane!”

  The last of murmuring conversations halted among the guests as Ian’s voice grew louder and angrier. “All right. I’ll be there in twenty. Don’t start the interrogation until I get there . . . Parrish, you can wait twenty frigging minutes! I—”

  Ripping the phone from his ear, he glared at it. “Bastard hung up on me.” He looked up to find everyone staring at him. His gaze searched and found Reggie Helm and then Calvin Watts, who Logan knew was on the local FBI’s Hostage Negotiation Team. “Need you both to come with me. Parrish said they made an arrest in the serial killings and you’ll never freaking believe who it is, because I sure as hell don’t.”

  Oh crap. While everyone wanted the bastard, who’d been torturing and killing submissives in the BDSM lifestyle in and around Tampa, caught, it was clear Boss-man wasn’t happy about the suspect that’d been arrested. When the name Carl Talbot was spat out of Ian’s mouth, there were stunned gasps followed by cries of disbelief. Unfortunately, Logan had no idea who the man was.

  Foster and McCabe stepped over to their teammates as Ian, Helm, and Watts ran to the latter’s vehicle with a promise they’d update everyone as soon as they could. Foster shook his head. “It can’t be. I’ve known the guy for about a year now, and while he’s a sadist in the kink community, and a Whip Master here at the club, I can’t see him being good for this.”

  Logan eyed the team leader. He didn’t understand the lifestyle, and Foster’s statement confused him even more. “Maybe because I’m out of the loop, but a sadist, who whips people for fun, sounds like a viable suspect to me.”

  “That’s because you don’t get BDSM—most people who aren’t in the lifestyle don’t. While some people do it for ‘fun,’ as you said, most Doms and submissives need different aspects of BDSM like the air they breathe. Some people need a particular kink to get through life. In Talbot’s case, he needs to be needed by the submissives—and what some submissives need is to be whipped. He trained long and hard to become a respected Whip Master like Donovan and Mistress China.” Foster subtly pointed at an angry, petite, Asian-American woman talking animatedly with DeAngelis and Brody “Egghead” Evans, another member of the Alpha Team. Logan was stunned that the gorgeous, dark-haired woman, named Charlotte Roth, who he’d been introduced to earlier, wielded a whip in the club. “A trained Whip Master never breaks the skin and knows exactly when to stop. I’ve watched Talbot many nights at the club and never once saw anything that would make me think he’s the sick bastard who killed those women.”

  “Isn’t that what people usually say after some guy blows away his entire family?” Lindsey asked. “They never thought he could do that.”

  McCabe nodded his
head. “True. But I’m with Cain. Even though I’m still a Dom-in-training, I can’t see Talbot being the killer.” He shrugged. “All we can do now, though, is wait to hear what Boss-man learns.”

  The mood of the party had changed dramatically. Several women involved in the BDSM community wiped tears from their eyes, while others vehemently defended Master Carl. Logan still didn’t quite get it. Maybe when he had some downtime, he’d research the lifestyle his teammates and coworkers were into some more. For now, he strode over to one of the coolers filled with beer and grabbed his second, and last one, of the day.

  Ian stormed into the Tampa FBI office on the heels of Calvin Watts, with Reggie Helm right behind him. The only reason Ian wasn’t leading the way was that they were heading toward an interrogation room and needed Watts’s key card to get into the secure area.

  Still in shock from the phone call he’d gotten about twenty minutes ago, Ian hoped like hell the Dom they’d brought in for questioning concerning the homicides wasn’t guilty. Master Carl Talbot was a long-time member and Whip Master of The Covenant. The sadist’s title and proclivity was probably why he’d ended up on Special Agent Colt Parrish’s radar. Technically, he hadn’t been arrested yet, but from what Parrish had told Ian over the phone, it might only be a matter of time.

  Parrish was one of the agency’s top investigators when it came to serial killers, and he’d come from Quantico, Virginia, when the body count started to climb and the press got wind of the story. While Ian wasn’t a huge fan of the man, dealing with him was far better than going head-to-head with SAC Stonewall. At least Ian and Parrish both agreed the FBI supervisor was a prick.

  Watts waved his wallet in front of a scanner next to a door leading to the secure area, and when the light on the device turned green, he grabbed the handle and pulled. There were four interrogation rooms off the hallway, with an observation room between the two on the left and another between the two on the right. A light above one of the doors on the left was lit, signaling an interrogation was in progress. Ian followed Watts into the attached observatory as Helm barged his way into the room where Parrish was peppering Talbot with questions. Both men startled at the intrusion.