by Dakota Trace
* * * *
Sitting at his desk, Jude scowled down at the report his head investigator had just turned into him. The work wasn’t mediocre, but neither was it stellar. Across from him, dressed in neatly pressed slacks and a white dress shirt, Levi Rogers shifted in his seat. He glanced up from the report. While Levi wasn’t a bad investigator, he wasn’t Rena MacAllister. Now more than ever he wanted to kick his partner’s ass for running off one of the best investigators they had ever employed. Damn horn-toad.
“Is there anything else, Mr. Larson?” The voice was an unwelcome reminder of what the company had lost.
“No, but if you let something like this happen again, you can start looking for another job. It’s unacceptable.”
“It won’t happen again,” the man said nervously, fidgeting and pushing up the wire-framed glasses resting on his nose.
Jude tossed the file down. “See that it doesn’t. You’re dismissed, Levi.” He waited for the man to leave before turning his chair to face the glass windows. Outside he could see the heat rising off the pavement. It was another hot day in Chicago but not as hot as his ass. Olivia was not happy about the lack of results surrounding the break-in at their home. It had been nearly a week since it had happened, and right now he knew even less than he had the day it occurred. He was damn sick of sleeping at the club, but until he felt it was safe to take his Mistress home, he wasn’t going to allow her to step one foot inside of their condo even if she was taking her displeasure out on his backside. He didn’t even want to think about the torment Micah was suffering because of him.
Turning back around, he picked up the file one more time. Perhaps there was something he was missing. Skimming over the bare bone facts and the non-descript police report, he wanted to hit something. He’d taken Jackson’s advice to let another investigator handle the case since he was too close to be rational and this mess is what he’d gotten, a half assed report with very vague details.
The ring of his cell startled him out of his dark thoughts. He thought of ignoring it but answered it just in case it was his contact at Comm. Edison.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Jude, still looking for me?” Rena’s sassy voice filled his ear as she reminded him of the cat and mouse game they’d been playing since she’d quit.
“I’d have found you if I’d been looking for you.” It had become a running joke between them after he’d finally broken down and called her private cell. He hadn’t wanted to betray her confidence…and Lord help him if his partner ever found out he had Rena’s new personal cell number. But when Jackson had taken a turn for the worse and ended up in the hospital because of the RSV, then pneumonia had settled in his lungs, he hadn’t had a choice. He’d known if something happened to Jackson and he hadn’t called her, she’d have shot him with his own gun. While he’d never seen Rena in all the time he’d been in the hospital at his friend’s side, the nurses had assured him that Jackson’s little black guardian angel had been checking in on him. And giving them hell if she thought they weren’t delivering the care she thought he deserved.
“Keep dreaming. If I don’t want to be found, I won’t be.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose and chuckled half-heartedly. “As pissed off as I am right now, I wouldn’t tempt me, girl. This idiot you recommended isn’t working out and I’m seriously thinking about tracking your ass down and bringing you back here – Jackson be damned.”
A long sigh filled his ear. “Levi’s a good investigator, Jude. I trained him myself…”
“But he’s not you. Do you know I’m sitting here looking at a half-assed report about the break-in at my condo that doesn’t even have a detailed police report?” He picked up the file. “And I quote… ‘it’s believed that the suspect may have come in via the balcony…’ Nowhere does it mention which side of the condo the suspect came in on – what if there had been two balconies at my place? If you’d handled the case – you wouldn’t have let the Chicago P.D. do such a shitty job and then walk all over you like Levi obviously did.” He tipped back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling with his phone pressed against his ear. “Fuck, what am I gonna tell Olivia, Rena? I promised her I’d know something tonight.”
“Damn I don’t want to be in your shoes. If there was something I could do…”
“Yeah there is. Come back to work for me.”
“We’ve been over this, Jude. I can’t.”
“What if I promise to keep ‘you know who’ off your ass?”
Rena snorted. “Right. The minute he sees my W-2s he’ll be all over me like stink on shit. The only way I’d ever come back is if there was a way to make me invisible.”
Her words sent the wheels turning in his head. He sat up straight. “What if I pay you under the table?”
She groaned. “I can’t believe you’d even suggest such a thing, Boy Scout. That’s illegal as hell and there’s no way you’d be able to pull it off without Jackson knowing because for the amount I’d charge you, you’d have to get his signature.”
Standing up, he paced over to the filing cabinet. “What? No friendly discount for your old boss?”
“Nope. A girl has to eat.” He could hear clacking in the background as if she were typing something on the computer. From his desk, he heard a ding. “But I wouldn’t be against a good old fashioned trade.” He opened his mouth to reply when the hair on the back of his neck stood up on end as the familiar scent of Euphoria drifted past his nose. Mistress. In his pants, his cock hardened even as his heart leapt. He fought the need to turn, to cast his eyes on Olivia. He knew he’d be on his knees without a worry in his head, despite the fact they were at his place of business, if he saw her in one of her leather corsets, dark leggings with her dark hair pulled back in a braid and her ever present crop riding at her hip.
“So are you interested?” He heard Rena’s voice as if from a distance
“In what?”
“A trade.” She sounded exasperated. “I just sent you a file. I’ve been offered a job – freelance. You go over the file. Tell me if you think it’s a feasible job for one person. If it is, you’ll help me set it up and…”
“What will I get out of it?” he asked, cutting to the chase as a slender hand touched his shoulder and a slightly accented voice, a blend of her Croatian birth land and her long imprisonment at the hands of the Russian Cartel, caressed his every nerve.
“Ignoring me isn’t acceptable, pet.”
He swallowed…hard. “I…” The sharp tap of her crop on his already tender backside had him ready for his Mistress’s pleasure. Kneeling, he handed Olivia the phone without another word.
Her hand left his shoulder as she walked away to stand in front of the window. With her back to him, he couldn’t make out the words as she spoke with Rena. A few minutes later, she snapped the phone shut. “Come here, Jude.”
His heart thumped frantically as he scrambled to his feet. Very rarely did Olivia call him by his given name unless he’d royally screwed up. When he approached her, she gestured for him to sit at his desk. Sinking down into his executive chair, he wondered what she would do next.
“I never would presume to tell you what to do in your business, pet. But as your lover, I’d like to request you consider taking Rena up on her offer.”
He swallowed, trying to pull his mind out of submissive mode. “And what would that be?”
Her hand settled on his shoulder. “She’s offered to look into our break-in. I’m assuming the report Rogers prepared was lacking?”
He nodded. “I’m sorry, Mistress. I was truly expecting him to…
“To be Rena. And he’s not.” She slipped behind him to rub both shoulders. “I understand. She said she sent you a file?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Well, open it up and see what it is. If you think you can adhere to her terms, I’d say we take her up on her offer.” She pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I miss not only our home, Jude, but sleeping between you and Micah. The be
d at the club is too damned small.”
“I know, Mistress.” It was a fact he was immensely aware of. He and Micah had been taking turns for the past week, holding their Mistress while the other slept on the couch in Olivia’s office. Clicking open the email Rena had sent he quickly skimmed over it. It seemed like a straight forward enough job, one which would be perfect for Larson Securities, but could easily be done with right amount of finagling by Rena.
“All she wants is your silence about her involvement in our break-in and some advice on how to proceed on this job.” Her hands slipped under his t-shirt. His breathing grew ragged.
“In other words, she doesn’t want Jackson to know she’s helping me, or that I’m helping her with this freelance job.” He tried to focus as her nails scraped over his nipples.
“Exactly.” When she stepped back, her fingers slipping free, he groaned. He wanted them back. “But as I said before, I won’t order you to accept her offer. After all, it’d require lying to your partner. But I can tell you I think Rena will have better luck producing results than the other guy you have on it. That girl could teach stubbornness to a donkey.”
“That she could.” Making his decision, he quickly typed the reply to Rena, agreeing to her terms along with promising to send her scanned copies of the reports in the morning. Even if he didn’t mention Rena to Jackson, his partner would soon know anyway. The other message he noticed in his Inbox had been addressed to both them. Their contact at Comm. Edison had information for them about Rena’s location. Pushing his guilty conscience to the side, he hit the Send button. Then, he scrambled out of his chair, sinking back to his knees. “Please, Mistress.”
“Please what, Jude?”
He looked up into her gray eyes. “I need you.”
She gave him an indulgent smile. “Then you shall have me…eventually.”
Chapter Five
Studying over the sheaf of papers in her hand, Rena sank onto her couch. She wanted to strangle her replacement. The idea of Jude using Levi Rogers to investigate the break-in at his home was baffling. He was a great guard but he was more along the lines of a grunt than a section leader. He had no real investigative skills, but he could follow orders without a problem. No wonder Jude’s pulling out his hair with this mess. She thoughtfully tapped her chin before jotting down a list on her ever-present tablet, a habit she’d had since her days in the military. It was her way of organizing her thoughts. First of all, I need to get inside Jude’s condo to see the actual crime scene. Then I need to talk to the investigating officer, and possibly get any additional info from WhiteHawk. Maybe he’ll work with me…?
She’d just finished scribbling on her tablet when her cell rang. Glancing at the caller ID, she recognized it as one of the cell numbers for Larson Securities. Pressing the call button, she answered it. “Yeah, I already got the stuff you sent over, Jude. I’m going over it as we speak…”
“And what exactly did my partner send to you, ma peekôn?” Jackson’s voice purred in her ear.
She nearly dropped the phone in reaction. It had been nearly a year since she’d heard the whispered endearment. His little thorn. Steeling herself against a curious melting in her heart and the sudden dampness between her thighs, she forced a calmness she didn’t even remotely feel into her tone. “Now why am I not surprised to hear from you, White Boy?” Inwardly she fumed and wondered if Jude had gone running to Jackson the moment he’d agreed to her trade, or if Jackson had merely lucked out.
A very amused male chuckle filled her ear. “Now you knew I wouldn’t let your little stunt at the mall go unanswered, right?”
Squeezing the bridge of her nose, she prayed for patience. She wasn’t going to engage him – she wasn’t. Perhaps if she refused to banter with him, he’d leave her alone. “I wasn’t expecting anything from you, nor will I. Is there a reason you called on my private number?”
She could almost hear the smile in his voice. “Of course there is.” In the background she could hear the sound of a bell as if he’d just stepped off an elevator, which was confusing to her considering there were none at Larson Securities. He must be out and about checking on accounts as usual. “To find out what kind of paddle you prefer. One like the suede covered paddle I used on you in Ireland or one with latigo leather? I’ll admit I have a favored latigo one which will sting your bottom in ways you’ve never experienced.”
Straightening, she dropped the papers onto her coffee table while fighting the urge to moan. She loved latigo leather, but she forced herself to remember their age difference- that she wasn’t looking for another Dom/sub relationship. She had to be firm. “So we’re back to that again? I’ll tell you the same thing I told you last time, Jackson. There isn’t a prayer in hell I’ll submit to you…”
“But you already have, and the taste of it was delicious…” he broke in, the purr in his tone grating on her nerves.
She gritted her teeth. “…never again, you Cajun Playboy. You caught me at a single moment of weakness brought on by jetlag and stress. Besides you’d have to find me first and we both know that’s not happening…”
The sound of footsteps stopping outside her door made her pause. “You’re so certain of that?” There was a rustle of paper before he rattled off her address. She nearly dropped the phone when a brisk knock sounded. Her mouth opened soundlessly. Her flight response warred with righteous anger. Her eyes darted towards the window and fire escape. Could she make it before he either picked the lock or broke the door down? Striving for a confidence she suddenly didn’t feel, she hid behind her brash New York sarcasm.
“Damn, I expected better from you, White Boy. Blowing the element of surprise by calling before pouncing smacks of inexperience.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“You expect me to believe it’s not you rapping on my door as we speak? Like there’s a prayer in hell I’m gonna let you in. And how did you get past the security downstairs anyway?”
Jackson chuckled. “I don’t know if I should be insulted or flattered that you think I couldn’t slip past the rinky-dink security Star Security has posted in your building. One guard and a handful of monitors – it’d be like taking candy from a child.” A trickle of another feminine voice teased her ears. “Well, I’m here, ma peekôn, and business waits for no one. But I’ll be with you soon. Perhaps you’ll have an answer for me by then.”
The click of the phone in her ear told her he evidently hadn’t expected a response. Another knock followed by a familiar voice had her head throbbing. Moving to the door, she groaned inwardly. This day couldn’t get much worse. She hadn’t had her first pot of coffee yet and right now she had to deal with a hormone-ridden sister. Opening the door, she planted one hand on her hip before staring down her sister.
“You honestly have a death wish. How the hell did you find me?”
Keisha smirked, unfazed by Rena’s bristling. “Not enough coffee yet? Well too bad. Karma’s a bitch, isn’t she?” She pushed past her, waddling into the apartment.
Closing the door behind Keisha, Rena watched as she trailed her fingers over every surface as she passed. Always a tactile person, her sister’s need to touch everything had driven Rena nuts as a child. And as an adult it hasn’t changed.
“So did you just come over to touch all my shit, or prove your husband could find me?” She knew more than likely Eddie had given into Keisha’s pleas when Rena had refused to tell her where she lived the last time they’d spoken on the phone.
Keisha smiled. “Both?” She wandered into the kitchen. “You have coffee? Eddie took mine away and I need it.”
Rena followed her. “You know he took it away from you because you’ve become a stark raving bitch on caffeine since you’ve got pregnant.”
Rummaging around in the cupboards, Keisha found a coffee cup. “Well it’s a good thing you drink decaf, huh?”
Sighing, Rena leaned against the door as her sister poured a cup of her coffee, added sugar and a splash of half and h
alf out of Rena’s fridge.
“See, you love me. You even have my creamer.” Stirring her coffee, Keisha waddled to the table.
“Ever think, Sis, that I may use half and half for cooking? I just made the most delicious broccoli cheese soup.”
Keisha wrinkled her nose. “Ew…that’s wrong on soo many levels, Rena. Green veggies and cheesy goop. That’s not food, it’s torture.”
Shaking her head at her sister’s antics, Rena retrieved her coffee mug from the living room. After refilling it, she sat down at the table across from Keisha, who’d raided her fridge again if the baklava in front of her was any indication.
“Mmmmm.” Taking a big bite, Keisha moaned before following it with a huge sip of coffee. “The best ever, Sissy. I’ve been craving one of these since you moved out. I don’t know how you do it. They always come out so light and airy. When I try, mine could double as a hockey puck. Who’d have ever thought a black woman could make a true Greek pastry?”
Sighing, Rena reached for one on the plate in the center of the table. “You know you could save yourself some trouble and just drive over to Greektown. In fact it’s closer to you than coming over to Oak Park. You had to take, what, two trains? There has to be another reason for your visit.”
Keisha cocked her head. “Now why would I go to Greektown when I have a perfectly good sister who loves me and bakes the most delicious baklavas? Besides, Eddie dropped me off on his way to the office. He wouldn’t let me ride the “L” in my condition.”
Rena felt like thumping her sister for her evasiveness. Although it didn’t surprise her Eddie had dropped off Keisha, it was her sister’s reasoning that bothered her. Keisha had been incredibly clingy since she’d found out she was pregnant. Maybe something was going on at home. “That’s not the point, and somehow I don’t think my baklavas are the reason why you came over.”
Keisha paused, the baklava half way to her mouth. Her dark eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “I…guess I’m just going stir crazy, Rena. Eddie’s watching my every move. I can’t even go to the bathroom without him there to hand me the toilet paper.”