“Not on your life, soldier boy.” She settled him back on his heels and rose up to straddle his thighs so she could slide down on his waiting cock. She kept one foot under her for leverage, rocking her hips against his. “This is my ride. But I’ll take you along with me.”
His head fell back, his back arching, trying to push himself deeper. But he couldn’t move much. Not with her weight on his lap. She wrapped her arm around his neck, giving him more skin, more sensation. Rubbing her breasts against his chest, her hips barely moving beyond a circular rocking motion that kept him seated deeply inside her.
“Don’t hold back on me.” Her thighs ached with a deep, pleasant burn. She tightened her inner muscles, squeezing him hard. Hovering on the edge of a shattering orgasm, she slid her arm back so she could cup the back of his head. Pulling his mouth down toward hers, she growled out, “Don’t you dare hold back on me.”
His entire body spasmed so hard it felt like an earthquake was shifting her off her axis. He locked his mouth to hers, not in a kiss, but a shared, bone-deep groan. Rocking together, sweaty and gasping for breath, he came apart in her arms.
Gently, she lay him on his side and started untying him, stroking her fingers over the lovely print embedded in his skin as she freed him. And bless his heart, as soon as he could move his hands, he reached for her. Not to pull her down or interfere with what she was doing, but as if he simply wanted and needed the connection.
“That was…” He shook his head, as if he couldn’t find the right word.
“Yeah.” She lay down beside him, threading her fingers with his.
“Is it always like this?”
She had a feeling she knew what he was asking, but she had to make sure. “A BDSM scene?” He nodded, so she replied, “They can be very emotional. Deep. Real. Because there’s no place to hide. This, Detective Wade, has been very, very special to me. Regardless of what happens between us, I’m more grateful than I can say.”
His eyes flared. “You? Grateful? After what you’ve given me? You didn’t even have to bite me this time.”
“Yes.” She brushed her mouth against his but didn’t close her eyes. She wanted to see the emotion in his eyes, if he shut down or not. “Because what you’ve given me in exchange is far greater. Trust. It can’t be bought and paid for and it’s easy to lose in a moment of carelessness, but you…” Her voice thickened. “I’m not going to cry, damn it. Just know that I don’t take your trust lightly. It means the world to me.”
“I’ve never trusted anyone but Elias or my squad to have my back. Even then, I had everybody else’s back. Nobody would fall behind or get hurt on my watch. Thank God I never had the opportunity to see if they actually had my back as good as I had theirs.”
The thought of him lying wounded, either as a soldier, or now, as a cop, sent a chill through her. She wriggled closer to him and tugged a sheet up over them.
“I should go shower,” he protested, but he didn’t try to get up yet.
“I don’t mind.”
His breathing deepened and she thought he’d drifted off to sleep. Until he cracked his eyes open and looked at her again. “If BDSM is like this… Why doesn’t everybody do it?”
She choked back a laugh and tucked his face against her throat. “The hell if I know, sugar.”
15
Colby couldn’t get out of the precinct fast enough anymore. Not with Mal waiting.
He couldn’t believe it’d only been three weeks. He hadn’t even seen her every single night, though he’d wanted to. Two more bodies had shown up—this time on the opposing cartel’s side of town. Another squad was handling it, but he and Elias had coordinated with them since they were pretty sure it was a retaliation hit. Things were about to get ugly in Dallas between two cartels fighting for more street.
And he couldn’t care less.
Mentally, he’d already checked out. This job had served its purpose and helped him hang on until he could find Mal, but now he wanted something less stressful, dangerous, and demanding. He wanted to let his mind and body fully heal, both from the tours and from the months he’d fought alone here at home. She’d been completely correct that he had to let go of this terrible sense of responsibility for everybody and everything while running himself into the ground. The decision had been hovering for months once Elias had decided to make a hard push for a promotion. Without him, Colby had no desire to continue on the force, even if Elias continued as his boss. No, it was time for a change. A big change.
He started up his truck and cracked the windows, but then stepped back out into the evening air while everything cooled down. He pulled out his phone and dialed up an old friend. “Hey, Jack. It’s me, Colby Wade. You got a few minutes to talk?”
He and Jack had gone to high school together about a hundred years ago, it seemed. Jack had started a construction business focused on tiny homes. He’d had great timing, because demand had exploded in recent years. He’d been posting pictures online for months.
“Colby Wade, you old dog! What are you up to nowadays? You still in the Army?”
“Marines, and no. I’ve been back a few years. I’ve been working with the Dallas PD for awhile, but I’m looking to make a change. I saw you posted about needing to hire more people and thought I’d call. See if you’d talk to me.”
“Damn straight, come on down as soon as you can. You’d be a perfect fit on my crew. We’re small, but the potential is huge.”
Relief eased tension straining in Colby’s chest that he hadn’t even noticed. “Thanks, man. I haven’t been doing much construction since we took shop all those years ago, but I’m willing to learn. Put me doing all the crappy jobs first.”
“You know the most important part—your way around tools. Tiny homes are a whole new ball game. Lots of different techniques and things you’d never know from a regular construction job anyway. And don’t worry, I’ve got lots of crappy jobs you can do.”
“Great.” Colby laughed. “I can’t wait.” No, really, he couldn’t. He already felt lighter, and cleaner, away from the constant stress and danger of the streets. “I need a few weeks to tie up loose ends here. That work for you?”
“Sure thing. Just get here as soon as you can. I’ve got a hundred orders stacked up.”
“No kidding?”
“Nope. I had to stop taking orders until I got caught up. So get here pronto and I’ll put you to work. Gladly.”
“Hey, thanks, man.”
Jack laughed. “No, thank you. Really. You’re saving me a lot of time of interviewing and struggling to find somebody I can work with. See you soon.”
Colby ended that call and pulled Mal’s number up. She hadn’t texted him yet to see what the plan was. They’d been over at the other squad going over files until almost seven, and now it was closer to eight. She’d probably already eaten and that pissed him off. He wanted to eat with her. Every meal he could. Because she’d helped bring back his enjoyment of food again.
“Detective Wade?”
He looked up. A blonde woman in navy slacks and jacket walked up to him. If she wasn’t a Fed, he’d let Mal use his handcuffs. “Yeah?”
She held out her hand. “Special Agent Madison Archer. You got a sec?”
“Sure. FBI?”
“ICE,” she corrected.
He tried not to react and betray his instant dislike. With all the deportations, ICE had gotten a bad name all over Texas and beyond. If they could actually do something about the drug cartels and terrorists, great, but like the senseless war in Afghanistan, deportation usually only punished the innocent people. It sure wasn’t an agency he’d care to work for, even if he wasn’t looking to leave the police force.
“I’m on a special task force with law enforcement agencies including the FBI and Interpol to investigate human trafficking. We just busted up a Russian mafia ring in the Caribbean.”
Not bad. Catching bad guys like that actually did some good in the world. “If you know my name, you probably know I
’m in narcotics. I don’t deal much with human trafficking.” Thank God. Seeing women and kids abused would probably drive him into a homicidal maniac.
“But we’ve heard good things about you, and we’re looking to add a few new people to the team. Your military background comes highly recommended. I warn you, though, that we’re not very conventional as far as our team makeup. We take a lot of risks, break a lot of rules, but ultimately get the bad guys.”
“And hopefully come home every night, right?”
She smiled and handed him a card. “Naturally. If you’re interested, give me a call.”
“I’ll be honest, ma’am. I’m not your guy.”
Her eyebrows rose with surprise. “You’re turning us down already? Why? If I may ask?”
He shrugged and stepped up into his truck. “I’m getting out of law enforcement entirely. But if I change my mind, I’ll give you a call.”
She nodded and waved as she turned away. “I appreciate it. Good luck, detective.”
He reached for the door to shut it, but noticed a black Lexus parked across the street. He checked his phone and had a text from Mal. Thought I’d surprise you.
Grinning like an idiot, he climbed back out and hurried toward the car. As he neared, her window rolled down, but the look on her face made him hesitate. Eyes tight and narrow, lips hard, and even her voice was wintry cold. “You move fast, detective. Who the hell is she?”
It took his brain a second to catch up. He hadn’t even registered that Agent Archer had been female, not really. Only that she had to work for the government.
His knee-jerk reaction was to retort that it didn’t matter who the woman was because he wasn’t interested in anyone else, but something registered in his head that that would be a mistake. Hurt shimmered in Mal’s eyes, not anger. The Mistress of Dallas didn’t succumb to petty jealousy. That was beneath her, he knew that much. No, this went much deeper. Even when he’d almost kicked her in the head on accident, she hadn’t spoken to him so harshly. Her icy voice cut to the quick, but it was brittle. A crack in her formidable exterior. A woman like her wouldn’t like exposing any cracks to him. So he’d better treat that vulnerability with extreme care.
She hadn’t just “caught” him with another woman. She’d caught him with a white woman. Like her father.
“Special Agent Archer came to offer me a job.” He leaned down, crossing his forearms on her car door. “But I turned her down flat. I’ve got my hands full with a certain Mistress and don’t have time for anything or anyone else to distract me.”
Some of that ice thawed in Mal’s eyes, but she remained guarded, watching him very closely. “Figured a man would like to work for a woman with her kind of assets.”
Colby chuckled, shaking his head. “Truth be told, I didn’t even notice her assets. I was too pissed that I missed dinner with you.”
She let out a long sigh and closed her eyes a moment. He waited silently, but didn’t withdraw. Finally she sighed again and opened her eyes. “I’m sorry that I leaped to conclusions. I didn’t like the idea that my soldier boy might be panting after a sexy blonde. Not one bit.”
He deliberately lowered his voice to that drawl she liked so much. “Now, ma’am, surely you must know after I let you put a bridle on me and tie me up that I’d never go panting after anybody but you.”
“Get in the car.”
He ducked his head a bit to show that he loved that tone, even though he couldn’t do as she asked at the moment. “My truck’s already started. You want to follow me, or ride with me? I need to stop by home first.”
“Why?” Though she grabbed her purse and started to roll up the window. He opened the door for her and stepped back, taking her hand as she stepped out. So he could pull her up against him. She glanced around quickly to see if anyone was watching. “I didn’t think you’d want me to come in and find you. Not here.”
“I want to ditch the gun in my safe at home so you don’t have to worry about it and I don’t have to worry about my truck getting stolen just to get the weapon.” He lowered his head so his mouth hovered near hers, though he didn’t press the advantage. “Why wouldn’t I want you to come in?”
“You work here.”
“So?”
She arched a brow at him. “I’m pretty sure somebody would recognize me as the Mistress of Dallas. Elias sure would and then everybody would talk.”
“So?”
She started up at him, eyes wide, lips parting on a soft sound that made him want to sweep her up into his arms and toss her in his truck. Or maybe just kneel right here on the pavement and profess undying love. Or better yet…
For the first time in his life, he let the idea of buying a ring and asking her to marry him form in his head. Though he wasn’t sure how one proposed to a Mistress. Maybe she did the proposing?
“That wouldn’t bother you?”
For one thing, he didn’t plan on sticking around for more than a couple of weeks, but he didn’t admit that out loud. Not yet. He wanted the moment he told her to be special and significant. Not something casual he just blurted on the street. But even if he was staying on the force, people would know eventually. He wanted to marry her, for Christ’s sake. Not hide her. Never. “The Policemen’s Ball is in two weeks. Would you be free to be my date?”
Her hand locked on his nape, her grip strong and unyielding. He closed his eyes, soaking it in. Peace. Everything would be all right. Everything would work out for the best. Everybody was safe. He could close his eyes and rest. Because his Mistress had him by the neck and wasn’t letting go.
She leaned up and nipped his earlobe, making him growl. “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away, sugar.”
16
“I warn you—it’s not much to look at,” Colby said as he pulled into his parking spot. “But it’s cheap, and that’s all I cared about when I signed the lease. Then I just never took the time to find a new place.”
Mal looked around the apartment complex and silently agreed. The outside of the three-story building was ugly and squat, the siding long ago faded into a miserable gray by the brutal Texas heat. Tiny postage-stamp balconies not even big enough for a gas grill—and a few looked so rusted that she’d be afraid to step foot outside for fear it’d collapse. He came around the truck and helped her out, allowing her to lead the way up the poorly lit and badly cracked sidewalk. It looked more like a drug dealer’s crack house than a cop’s home.
God, the smell. Old, musty, urine. Hopefully pet and not human. Decades of cigarettes had also been smoked on that front stoop. Worse, he had a basement apartment, so they had to go down a half-flight of steps to his door, increasing the old earthy, damp smell and the sense of claustrophobia. No wonder he always scanned the bushes and shadows. This place was downright creepy.
The thought that her soldier boy had been living like this, punishing himself for years, damned near broke her heart.
He bumped into her, crowding her toward the door. Surprised, she glanced back at him. Without looking at her, he pushed his key into her hand.
“Unlock the door and then go straight through to the bathroom,” he whispered, his voice low but urgent. “Lock the door and call 911.”
“What? Why?”
“Go, Mal. Now!”
She saw it then—a black SUV slowly headed up the road toward them, window sliding downward as she watched. Gun in hand, Colby backed against her, protecting her. Shielding her with his own body.
Heart pounding, she shoved the key into the lock and threw the door open, fully expecting him to duck inside after her. Instead, he blocked the door, reaching behind him until he could find the handle and yank the door shut. God. She wanted to screech at him to get his butt in here pronto. Where it was safe. Even knowing it was his job, that he took very seriously, it still made her sick to think of him out there facing danger. Protecting her.
Sobbing, she ran through the dark room, hoping that he didn’t have any weird furniture out in the way, but the hallway
was empty. In seconds, she was safe, light on, phone out, and operator asking what her emergency was. “I’m at a cop’s apartment, Detective Colby Wade, and he told me to call for help.”
Even then, it all seemed so surreal. Until she heard the gunfire.
“Ma’am? Ma’am? Are you all right?”
Her hand shook and she almost dropped the phone. Her heart pounded so hard she had to lean against the door a moment, waiting for the black spots to pass from her vision. “Someone’s shooting outside!”
“Is that the detective or a gunman?”
“I don’t know.” It came out more of a wail. She detested not knowing what was happening. If he was all right. More gunfire, and then the sound of squealing tires. Was he lying in the street? Bleeding to death? She had to find out. She raced back through the darkened apartment, listened at the door a moment, and heard nothing. No screams or shouts or moans, let alone gunfire. So she opened the door.
Colby stumbled inside and fell against her. She wrapped her free arm around him, slowing his descent, but she couldn’t keep him on his feet. She went down with him, keeping his head up. Her hand came away with blood and for the first time in her life, she wanted to throw her head back and wail.
However, when she spoke into the phone, her voice remained calm. He needed her at her best. “He’s been shot. His stomach, I think. He’s conscious, but unable to stand.” She set the phone aside and cradled his head in her lap. “What can I do?”
“Elias,” he ground out. “Call him.”
She searched his pockets and found his beat-up ancient flip phone. Thankfully Elias was his number one caller so it was easy to hit redial.
“Didn’t I tell you to go home?”
“I need help. Colby’s been shot.” Tears burned her eyes and her voice quivered. “What do I do?”
“Where are you?”
“His apartment.” She could hear tires squealing and the sudden roar of an engine. Elias must have been on his way home too.
The Connaghers Series Boxed Set Page 97