Conviction

by Jane Henry

  What the fuck?

  I glance at the time. “I have to go to Devin’s school. Art show night.”

  “Go,” she says, her lips thin and tight. “I don’t care if you leave now. No point in staying. I’ve got food and a laptop. What else could I possibly need?"

  “For fuck’s sake, Zoe. Jesus, you need someone to adjust that attitude for you.”

  And that’s when I can almost see the audible snap of her resolve. Her voice is a low, slithering hiss. “What’s I need is none of your fucking concern. You lost that right when you decided to spank my ass, make me come, then pretend I don’t exist.”

  Ah. That’s what this is about?

  “First of all, I’m hardly pretending you don’t exist,” I begin, but she cuts me off with a swipe of her palm in the air.

  “Save it, Braxton.”

  “No,” I continue. “If you’re so sure you know what my motives are, you have to know what’s going on in my mind. I mean, how else are you supposed to make conclusions about what I’m doing?”

  Her lips tighten but she doesn’t try to stop me from continuing.

  “You’re not a member here. You’re not my submissive, and you’re not into any of this shit. It isn’t fair of me to take advantage of you the way I did. I never should have. We had a one-night stand and it was amazing, but that’s all it was. You and I both know that. You’re only here because your safety matters. And that’s all there is to it.”

  “Right,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “So you’ve already made up your mind about what I want without asking me. That’s what doms do? I wouldn’t know.”

  What?

  “No. I didn’t make up your mind,” I protest, feeling my own anger rising at the accusation. “I’m just saying that it isn’t right for me to…”

  “Take advantage,” she supplies, rolling her eyes. “We’ve covered that.”

  “Have we?” Now she’s got my ire up, and it takes some effort to stay calm. My palm itches to spank her little ass again, but that only gets us in trouble.

  “Yeah,” she says, pushing to her feet. “And let me tell you something. You didn’t take advantage of me. You take advantage of people who are helpless and can’t fend for themselves. And excuse me, but I think I’ve got that covered. Did it ever occur to you that maybe I want you to…” she sputters for a minute, eyes flashing, a few little damp wisps of hair sneaking underneath the plastic thing she’s got on her head, “take advantage of me?”

  I look at her curiously. “Come again?”

  “Yeah, Brax,” she says, rolling her eyes. “It would be really fucking nice to come again.” I snort, but she’s not laughing, so I sober up. “Dude, seriously. I’m bored to death and trying to figure out who the hell screws around with someone like me, puts them in their private room to keep them safe, and then pretends they don’t exist? How does that even work?”

  “Wait a minute,” I say, shaking my head at her. “I don’t pretend you don’t exist. I’ve been busting my ass taking care of my kid and trying to find out what’s going on with the assholes pursuing you and doing my shifts as dungeon monitor. Hardly twiddling my thumbs here, sweetheart.” Was my pulling away a mistake?

  She walks over to me and stabs her finger into my chest. “Don’t you dare ‘sweetheart’ me.”

  “That’s enough.” I’ve had it. She’s said what she has to, and I’ll admit maybe my timing wasn’t the best here, but I’ve had enough. “You said what you had to. You carry on, and you’re not gonna like where this goes.”

  A little of the heat quenches in her eyes as she looks at me. “Oh yeah?”

  Beatrice chooses that precise moment to come in the room. She sees as at a stand-off and her eyes widen. “Did I interrupt something? I could just leave for a little while—”

  “No, we’re good,” Zoe says. “Brax was just leaving.”

  She’s kicking me out of my own damn room? Yeah, not happening. I smirk at her and pull a chair out. “I don’t have to leave to get Devin for another fifteen minutes. I’d love to see this transformation.” I sit back and fold my arms on my chest. Zoe rolls her eyes but doesn’t protest as Beatrice leads her back into the bathroom and shuts the door behind them. There’s the sound of water running and murmured voices, and for a minute I wonder what they’re talking about.

  Zoe’s pissed, and honestly, it sounds as if she’s got reason to be.

  My phone beeps, so I slide it out of my pocket. Myers.

  “Yeah?”

  “Got a lead. Looks like Antonia Zandetti had someone on the side.”

  “Lived in Cape Cod in Massachusetts?” I ask.

  “Lives,” he corrects.

  I feel it in my gut. This is the lead we need to pursue.

  “Go on.”

  “Ted Sutherland. Former associate professor at NYCU. Widower, independently wealthy, and she studied under him for her undergrad.”

  “Right. Today I talked to someone who knew her as well, and it seems there’s a good chance she isn’t dead after all. Her body was never located, so technically she’s a ‘missing person,’ right?”

  “Exactly.”

  I blow out a breath. “Well I think I know where I need to pay a visit,” I say.

  “You going there yourself?” Myers asks.

  “Hell yes I am. Need to close in on this and put shit together before something else goes down.”

  “Keep me posted, Cannon.”

  “I will.” I disconnect the call as a knock sounds on the door to my room. I can hear Zack on the other side. The girls are still fussing and clanging around in the bathroom, so I go to get the door.

  When I open it, Zack’s standing there looking grim.

  “Got confirmation from Myers that Zandetti may be with her boyfriend.” Zack nods, but his eyes are grim, the lines around his lips sad. “What is it, man?”

  “Car bombing, victim was an NYPD officer.”

  “Jesus.” My stomach clenches in helpless anger. “Did he survive?”

  Zack nods and sighs. “Barely. He’s in the ICU but not responding. There’s more, Brax. The car belonged to Zoe and her partner, Al Rumaro. Al was supposed to be off today but took the shift since Zoe isn’t there. She was the one supposed to be in that car, man.”

  I take in a deep breath, willing myself to stay calm. That could’ve been Zoe. That maybe should have been.

  He shakes his head. “Chief is getting concerned, but I’ve told him she’s in good hands. He wants more intel, but we’ll have to wait until we have more to give.”

  I hear someone clearing her throat behind us, and Zack’s eyes go wide just before I turn around and see Zoe standing there looking uncharacteristically shy. Her hair is pitch black and cut short, enhancing her almond-shaped eyes and pouty lips. She looks fucking perfect, and right then, right there, something changes, and I know it isn’t just because she’s cute as fuck but because for just one minute, with the shade of bashfulness flushing her cheeks, I see the girl beneath the hard exterior.

  A deep, abiding need to claim her thrums through me.

  She’s mine. She just hasn’t figured that out yet.

  “What do you think?” Beatrice asks.

  “Don’t recognize her at all,” Zack admits. “Good job, babe.” Beatrice beams at him, then her gaze swings around to me.

  “Brax?”

  I cross the room to her and give a short nod. “Perfect,” I say, afraid if I say too much, I’ll lose the control I have over the primal instinct to claim her and pound my chest, toss her over my shoulder and bring her to my cave. “You wanna go on a road trip?”

  Her eyes widen, her voice husky when she speaks. “Leave this room? Fuck yeah.”

  I can’t help but smile at that. “I have to go to Devin’s school for an art show, but it won’t take long. She goes back to her mom tonight, then you and I are heading out to the Cape. We’re putting what Myers and Zack told us together, and we’re hunting down Ted Sutherland, Antonia Zandetti’s lover.”


  Her eyes are bright and excited, like she just found out we’re going on vacation, not heading out to track down the pieces to the puzzle.

  “Yeah I’m totally in,” she says.

  “Good. I’ll clear my time off with Tobias and we’ll keep Myers informed. Pack a bag. We leave here in ten.”

  I barely want to leave her for even that length of time, but I do. I debrief Tobias, then head back to the room to get her, but she’s already at the door, bag slung over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 8

  Zoe

  He looked at me strangely when I came out with my hair all done. I’ll admit Beatrice did an amazing job. She knows what she’s doing. Not only did she cut my hair in a way that makes me look younger, my eyes look brighter, and my cheekbones higher, thereby changing nearly my entire appearance, but she did some magic with makeup. I felt shy going out to Brax and Zack, but I’m ready to move things along, and it had to be done. And then I looked at him… I’m not really sure what happened out there, but I felt different for a moment. Softer. Malleable.

  I needed him to approve. I hate that I did, but I can’t deny it. I needed him to find me pretty, to like the new haircut, and let me the fuck out of this room.

  When his eyes met mine, something stirred deep within me, as if I’ve known him so much longer than a few days, and I knew in my gut that I trust him. Let him take care of you, my inner voice coaxes.

  I’m not the kind of girl who lets anyone do anything for me. I survived my childhood, only to fight for what was mine as an adult. Nothing, absolutely nothing was handed to me, and I don’t expect handouts now. Everything I have I fought for and won, and that includes my pride. But when he looks at me like that, a little part of me melts. I don’t like that it does. I need to remain in control.

  I toss clothes in a bag easily, as I have so little here, and meet him at the door. I’m so fucking ready to move this along. He takes the bag from my hand and slings it over his shoulder.

  “I can hold that,” I say, but he doesn’t even bother responding, just leads the way back to Tobias’s office and the exit.

  “Brax,” I repeat. “Give me the damn bag.” The softness I felt while looking at him after I got my hair done is gone now. “I can handle it.”

  “No,” he says, not looking at me, while we walk past the bar and through the entrance to the lobby. When we get to the main area, there’s a man sitting on a bench and a woman sitting on his lap. She’s got whiskers drawn on her face and little kitty ears, and she’s purring against him, rubbing her cheek against his. You see all sorts of things in NYC that you don’t elsewhere. Add Verge to the picture, and I’m beginning to see there really isn’t a hell of a lot you won’t see here. I want to see more at Verge, and I hope now that I’ve got this disguise going that I can move around a little more freely.

  Curiosity fills me as he opens the door and we head to the street. “I parked in the parking garage down the road today,” he says. “We need a little more anonymity, which is why you’re not carrying this bag. Stay quiet and keep your head down.”

  I fucking wish someone would attack me. I’m ready to take them down. I could do it with one hand tied behind me.

  “I really need some way to work out at Verge,” I say. “I’m going out of my mind and I need to train.” I need to feel my heart pounding, my skin covered in perspiration, dotting my forehead and blurring my vision. I need the release of a punching bag and weights, pushing me to the extreme. I’ve been doing what I can in the cramped little room, planks and jumping jacks and running in place, but I need a lot more.

  “I can work you out,” he teases, smirking and making the little dimple show.

  I play-punch him but he dodges it and just keeps walking with those huge steps. I keep up, but it’s got me winded. He sobers then.

  “Something I need to tell you,” he says, but then he shakes his head. “Nah, better to tell you in the car.”

  “What?” He can’t lead me on like that and then not saying anything. I hate when people do that.

  “Wait,” he orders, the playfulness gone and the dom back in place. I roll my eyes. Whatever.

  “If you were mine, you’d learn damn quick not to roll those eyes at me,” he says in a voice that resembles some sort of growl.

  “Oh yeah? Good thing I’m not yours then,” I say, rolling my eyes again for good measure. Son of a bitch. If I mean nothing to him, he can fuck my submission.

  “You really do throw sass around like confetti,” he says.

  “No shit.” Where the hell is this conversation going?

  He shakes his head as we near the dark, dismal parking building in front of us. “Behave yourself around my daughter. I don’t care who the hell you are, you watch your language and keep it clean.”

  “Excuse me? Who do you think I am? Jesus. I know how to behave around kids.”

  He opens the door for me and narrows his eyes as we go through. “Sometimes I wonder,” is all he says. “When she’s gone, you and I need to lay shit on the line. For now, just behave yourself.”

  No one, literally no one pisses me off like this man. It’s annoying as hell he doesn’t think I have the self-respect to contain myself in front of his kid.

  “Fuck you,” I say. “Let me in the damn car and stop the lecture, grandpa. I’ve got it under control.”

  “The hell you do,” he says, as he slams open the passenger door to a sleek silver sedan. I slide in the passenger seat, still fuming, and he tosses the bag in the back before he slides in next to me.

  “We’re in the car now,” I say. “Tell me what it is you wanted to tell me.”

  “In a minute.”

  Control freak of America, that’s what he is. Leave it to me to land myself an absolute control freak. Honest to fucking God.

  Sighing, I lean back against the seat. If we keep snapping at each other like this, it’s gonna be one fucking long road trip.

  He pays for parking at the exit and pulls out of the lot, driving slowly as we’re in typical mid-afternoon gridlock.

  “We don’t have far to go,” he says. “But we have enough time to talk. First, Al Rumaro was involved in an accident today.”

  I don’t know what I expected him to tell me, but this isn’t it.

  Oh God.

  “Yeah?” I ask, my mouth dry.

  He nods. “Yeah.”

  “Is he okay?” I ask.

  He nods. “Zack says he’s in the ICU and unresponsive, but he’s alive.”

  Unresponsive? Still alive isn’t always a blessing in these cases. God.

  “Was he driving?”

  “Listen, Zoe. He was in a car you were supposed to be in,” he says. “And the car was rigged with a bomb. So it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure this one out.”

  I nod, my mouth dry. “Yeah,” I manage to croak out. “Jesus, Braxton. We need to find out who the hell is behind this and do something about it.”

  “We do.” We drive in silence, crawling along the congested streets, before he speaks up again. “And you know it’ll be a helluva lot easier if you stop fighting me.”

  What the fuck? I turn to look at him, incredulous. “Now wait a minute. Dude, I’m not the one fighting here. You’re the one who had the fucking gall to spank me, fuck me, then leave me for days on end.”

  He blows out a breath. “I didn’t leave you. I’ve been at Verge every single day looking in on you.”

  Oh no, he is not playing dumbass with me. “That’s not what I mean, and you fucking know it.”

  “Damn truck driver mouth,” he mutters, but I ignore him and continue.

  “You don’t talk to me. You barely come in the room. What kind of an asshole has that kind of intimacy with someone and then just leaves them? Tell me, Braxton. Is that like a dom thing?”

  He growls, flicks his directional, and takes a left at the light.

  “Listen, I already told you, I didn’t want to take advantage of you. I mean, Jesus. Look at
this situation. You’re being pursued by someone who wants to fucking kill you. You get involved with me, and that only makes you even more conspicuous.”

  I blow out a breath. “I didn’t say I want to get involved. Jesus!”

  Frowning, he pulls up to an intersection with parents and children crossing the street. Looks like we’ve arrived. “Then what do you want, Zoe?”

  I shake my head. I really don’t know how to answer that question.

  He parks the car and looks at me, waiting. “I don’t know Brax. I really don’t. I just know you piss me off.”

  “Likewise,” he says, and briefly his eyes twinkle.

  “Maybe this would be different under different circumstances,” I tell him.

  “Maybe,” he agrees with a shrug. He cuts the engine and looks back to me. “Remember what I said. Best behavior. You so much as swear, and you’ll answer to me.”

  Even though his bossiness makes me mad, I can’t help but admit my heart flutters a bit in my chest at his dominance. It’s been three fucking days since he’s touched me, and my body responds of its own accord.

  “What does that mean?” I want to know. Hell, I need to know. “What does that fucking even mean?” Who the hell is he that he just issues threats like that?

  He drops the keys on the console, and something in him seems to snap. Before I know what’s happening, his hands are wound in my short hair and he’s tugging my head closer to his mouth, his lips brushing mine, but when we touch it’s like a match set to kindling. Flames lick at my core, he groans into my mouth, and he deepens the kiss, a firmer press of his lips on mine. The kiss takes my breath away in its vehemence and heat, then it’s over way too fast. “I’ll tell you what that means,” he growls in my ear, and he’s so damn serious his eyes are pools of flames, his voice as deep and raspy as I’ve ever heard it. “You behave yourself around my kid, or tonight when I have you alone, you’ll find your pants around your ankles, and you’ll be belly-down over my knee. I’ll paint your ass red and punish you. Is that clear enough?”