AtHerCommand

by Marcia James

  “What about you?” The sexy smile on her face almost distracted him from the vulnerability in her eyes. “Will you be by to…brief me?”

  “I’d rather debrief you of every article of clothing.” Dalton cupped the nape of her neck and drew her mouth to his. Could she really be insecure after the night they’d spent together?

  If only he had the whole day to reassure her in her brass bed but the real world was pressing in on them. Instead, Dalton brushed his body against hers, letting her feel his hard desire. When he broke the kiss, her ragged breathing echoed his.

  “I’ll be back this evening,” he promised. “I’ll park on the street behind yours as I did last night and come through the backyard in case they’re watching your house.”

  “Okay.” She sounded husky.

  Domino walked to her dresser, opened a drawer and took out a small jewelry box. Lifting the lid, she retrieved a key and brought it to him.

  “This is my spare.” She handed over the key. “It’ll fit the back door. And there’s a security system keypad.”

  “Your system wasn’t activated last night.” Dalton was amazed he could sound like a nag.

  “Well, I guess I’ll be a little more careful from now on,” Dom said. “The code to deactivate the system is ten-three.”

  “October third?” he asked and she blushed. Was the date something special between her and a boyfriend? Damn. Just imagining Domino with another guy made him want to put his fist through a wall.

  “It’s my grandmother’s birthday,” she explained, obviously embarrassed at the sentimental code choice.

  God, she was a dichotomy—the serious agent who could pull a switchblade faster than he could blink and the sexy lover who decorated her bedroom in frills and flowers. She wouldn’t enjoy being told she was hard on the outside with a soft center, like a gumball. Dalton smiled and just barely resisted stealing another kiss.

  He dropped the key into his wallet and his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. He needed to restock the worn leather trifold with condoms or maybe just buy a box for Dom’s nightstand. The thought was both exciting and scarily domestic.

  Dalton slipped his feet into his boat shoes and pulled on his jacket. Instinctively, he patted the reassuring bulge of the gun in his pocket. He met her eyes, wishing he could protect her through the day ahead.

  “My partner Weinberg will come by around ten to escort you to the station,” he said.

  They walked together out of the room, down the hall and into the kitchen. Domino unlocked the deadbolt on the back door. “Will you take part in the interrogation?” Her eyes reflected his reluctance to part.

  “I’ll be watching through the two-way mirror in the screening room,” Dalton explained. “I’m sure Salvi’s lawyer will be there so my captain will have to make it look real.”

  “No problem,” she said.

  He nodded, opened the back door and stepped into the freezing February air. As he turned to go, a wicked impulse triggered a parting remark. “Say ‘hi’ to Mistress Bella for me. I still owe her a couple of paybacks. Maybe I’ll stop by the store and pick up some candles.”

  Domino heard his laughter as she locked the door behind him. Holy cannoli. Visions of Dalton dripping warm wax over her skin had her blushing at the same time her body hummed in anticipation. Damn, it was going to be a long day.

  With a glance toward the wall clock, Dom hurried down the hall and into her bathroom. She adjusted the water and stepped into the shower, aware of pleasant muscle aches and twinges courtesy of her night with Dalton. With a smug smile, she soaped her body and thought about their sexual Olympics. Insatiable, they’d barely closed their eyes all night and she couldn’t wait for a repeat performance.

  A niggling voice in the back of her mind clamored for attention. You’re riding for a fall. Dalton’s a lot of fun but he’s not interested in anything long-term. Ignoring the warning and banishing images of the night before, Dom lathered her hair and ran through her story for the cops. She’d have to be on her toes today to keep from blowing her cover.

  An hour later, she’d dressed, eaten breakfast and was savoring her second cup of coffee when her doorbell rang. Smokey ran to the door, growling and bristling. Checking the peephole, Dom spied an unsmiling man in an expensive-looking topcoat standing on her front porch. She adjusted the gun at the small of her back to make sure it was covered by her jacket, fixed her Mistress Bella persona in place and opened the door.

  The man grimaced in a parody of a smile and introduced himself. “Ms. Petracelli, my name is Charles Mattingly.” He shifted his briefcase into his left hand and offered his right, which Dom shook. “My firm represents the Xecutive Branch club. Could I speak to you?”

  With an air of arrogant indifference, Domino stepped back and motioned for the man to enter. He walked past her to the living room, his expensive cologne cloying and sweet. He shot a look of distaste in Smokey’s direction and settled on the sofa.

  Dom took the chair across from him, forcing a confident, unworried manner. “What’s this about, Chuck?”

  Just as she’d expected, the lawyer frowned at the diminutive of his Christian name. Apparently he wasn’t thrilled to be dealing with the likes of Mistress Bella. But he maintained the formal attitude as he opened his briefcase, pulled out a file and placed it on the coffee table. Reading the label upside down, she could see it was Dalton’s file.

  “Ms. Petracelli, what do you know about Dalton Cutter?”

  Dom curved her lips into a smirk. “Well, let’s see. He has a high tolerance for pain, needs to work on his submissiveness and has no interest in water sports. But you already know that since I wrote it in his file.”

  Mattingly’s ears reddened but he continued. “And did you learn something new about him last night?”

  Her heart jolted. Was he referring to her lovemaking with Dalton? Then she realized he was quizzing her on the scene in the loading bay. Her self-preservation and agent training kicked in.

  Dom reached for the cordless phone on the coffee table. Instead of answering his question, she dialed the club. Vicky, the receptionist, answered with a brisk “Xecutive Branch”.

  “Hi, it’s Dominique. Is Mr. Salvi in?”

  Vicky asked her to hold, which she did while maintaining eye contact with Mattingly. Domino was surprised when the lawyer gave her an approving smile.

  “Salvi.”

  Just the sound of the club manager’s voice sent dread skittering down her spine but Dom feigned a casualness she didn’t feel. “This is Dominique. I have a man in my living room who says he works for the club. Chuck Mattingly?”

  “Yes, Mr. Mattingly represents us. He helps protect loyal employees.” Salvi emphasized the word “loyal” and Dom didn’t miss the point. After a beat, he continued. “I want you to answer all of his questions. And if the police question you about that unfortunate incident last night, Mr. Mattingly will accompany you. You are to follow his advice.”

  “Sure.” Dom understood the threat the club manager was projecting over the phone. Salvi cut off the call as abruptly as he’d cut her throat if she testified against him. With a shiver, Domino set down the phone and spoke to the lawyer. “You asked what I learned last night? I discovered Dalton Cutter was a lying bastard cop.”

  Mattingly nodded. “Mr. Salvi filled me in on the loading bay events. I comprehend when you left work, you were under the impression the danger to the club had been, uh, neutralized.”

  It was Dom’s turn to nod. The lawyer folded his hands in his lap and continued. “I regret to inform you Mr. Cutter or I should say Detective Cutter is still a viable threat.”

  Thanks to her undercover experience, Domino knew how to play this scene. She let confusion then incredulity and finally anger wash over her features. “Are you telling me Cutter got away?” she hissed.

  In true attorney fashion, Mattingly spoke dispassionately. “With the aid of reinforcements, Detective Cutter managed to gain the upper hand and arrest two of th
e club’s warehousemen.”

  Domino jumped out of her chair and stalked the length of her living room and back. She didn’t have to fake her agitation. Dom knew exactly what would happen to her if she didn’t convince this lawyer of her “employee loyalty”.

  “That cop,” she spat out the word like a curse, “is alive?”

  “Detective Cutter filed charges of kidnapping and attempted murder against Mr. Salvi and his two assistants,” the lawyer explained. “Of course, you know the charges are erroneous.”

  Domino got the message loud and clear, a fact she didn’t hide. “Sure, I know Mr. Salvi wouldn’t do anything illegal.”

  “That’s correct.” Mattingly’s smile was cold. “I’m here to help you polish your deposition for the police. When you’re questioned, you wouldn’t want to say anything that might be misconstrued as supporting Detective Cutter’s ridiculous claim.”

  “Damn straight,” she said with what she hoped was conviction. “That son-of-a-bitch cop played me for a fool. I’d love one more crack at him as Mistress Bella.”

  Raising one eyebrow in a disapproving gesture, Mattingly pulled another file out of his briefcase. “Let’s begin.”

  * * * * *

  “Ms. Petracelli, I’m going to ask you again,” Captain Bennett said, his voice echoing in the musty Metro PD interrogation room. “What happened last night in the shipping area of the Xecutive Branch?”

  Domino looked across the metal table at Dalton’s boss, who sounded weary and frustrated. She imagined he’d like to be off working this case instead of conducting a sham interrogation for the benefit of the club’s lawyer. But the guys in the white hats needed to convince the villains that Dom was on the side of evil. She almost smiled at the thought. She was getting a little punchy after a busy night—courtesy of Dalton—and a day being prepped by her lawyer and questioned by the police.

  “I saw my client sneak into the loading bay and informed my boss.” Domino smirked with disdain. “I figured Mr. Salvi could deal with some wimp looking to rip-off a box of sex toys.”

  Bennett sighed in exasperation and glanced at the gray ceiling. In the chair next to hers, Mattingly sat unruffled, his back ramrod straight. The wall clock made a slight ticking noise as it counted off the seconds. Dom wondered how much longer this farce would go on. The sterile room was chilly but she felt prickles of heat knowing Dalton stood behind the two-way mirror to her left. The temptation to turn and send him a wink was almost overwhelming.

  “Ms. Petracelli—” Bennett began again.

  “Captain,” Mattingly cut in, “my client has answered that question repeatedly and her answer hasn’t changed. She did not witness an interchange between Detective Cutter and Mr. Salvi or any of the warehousemen—including Clarence Hobart and Joey del Maggio. She cannot support Detective Cutter’s allegations.”

  Bennett squared off against the lawyer, making Domino feel like the spectator at a tennis match. “This is a serious situation,” the captain said. “Possibly if Ms. Petracelli searches her memory a little more—”

  “Maybe it’s Detective Cutter’s memory that needs searching.” Mattingly showed frustration for the first time. “A source of mine in the D.A.’s office informs me the good officer wasn’t even assigned to the Jason Walters case, much less placed officially undercover at the club. He’s a loose cannon—a grief-stricken cop with his own agenda.”

  Domino spied a flare of anger in Bennett’s eyes and imagined Dalton cursing a blue streak in the screening room. So the club did have a friend on the inside—someone with connections to the Metro Police, as they’d suspected. That fact made it even more critical she pull off this deception. The cops needed a person they could trust at the club, especially if Suzi Cho’s cover were blown thanks to Mattingly’s “source”.

  Dom watched as Bennett refused to be baited into discussing Dalton’s state of mind. Instead, the captain turned to her. “So, Ms. Petracelli, you weren’t aware of Detective Cutter’s true identity before today?”

  Domino rolled her eyes. “Hell, he could have been the Pope as long as he had a club membership,” she said. “I didn’t even know his last name until Chuck told me this morning.”

  Mattingly cleared his throat and gave her a warning look. His dislike of her informality was strangely satisfying.

  “Captain,” Mattingly said, his tone firm, “my client has also answered that question ad nauseam. She was unaware Detective Cutter was an undercover police officer. She had no contact with Detective Cutter other than their sessions.”

  “That’s right,” Dom spoke up, channeling all of Mistress Bella’s arrogance into her voice. “And don’t bother asking me about our sessions. I never whip and tell.”

  Mattingly took the files he’d laid on the table and placed them back in his briefcase before speaking. “I’m advising my client not to answer any more of your questions. Unless you plan to charge Ms. Petracelli with some trumped-up obstruction-of-justice charge, we are leaving.”

  Bennett began to object then he spoke to Domino. “If you need to leave town for any reason, be sure to advise my department of your location in case we have more questions.”

  “No problem, Captain,” she said. “I have too many eager customers to drop out of sight.”

  Bennett nodded and Domino stood along with Mattingly. Hopefully she’d presented the lawyer’s recommended “see no evil, hear no evil” story convincingly. Mattingly would report back to Salvi so she needed the crooked legal eagle to be happy with her interrogation. Instincts told her the lawyer had bought her act but her DEA assignment at the club was far from over.

  Dom knew Dalton was worried about her safety. The club manager could decide she was a loose end and silence her permanently. But even Salvi would think twice about making such a move while under investigation. Well, she’d try to reassure Dalton later or at least distract him from his worries. That thought made her smile. As she followed the lawyer to the door, she glanced over her shoulder at the mirror and winked.

  * * * * *

  Domino yawned, poured herself a cup of coffee and checked the clock in the club’s employee lounge. Eight o’clock. She’d managed to catch a nap between her police interrogation and her first appointment at the club, but the last twenty-four hours were catching up to her. She had fifteen minutes until her next client and needed the caffeine to stay awake. Thank goodness, this wasn’t one of her late shifts.

  “Hey, pretty Bella.”

  Turning at the sound of her club name, Dom watched Benny enter the room. He was smiling as he walked over to her but the gentle giant’s bubbly personality seemed dimmed. “Hey, Benny. What’s up?”

  “My blood pressure.” He grinned like a kid.

  Dom wondered where he’d heard the old joke. “Something bothering you?”

  “Mr. Salvi’s spying on the loading area.” Benny lowered his voice. “Being watched is creepy.”

  Dom set down her cup and put her hand on his arm. “I’m sure no one is spying on you.”

  “Then why did Mr. Salvi put cameras in the loading bay?” Benny asked. “I heard Hobart and Joey got in trouble. Maybe they were stealing. Maybe the cameras are to catch thieves.”

  Cameras. Damn, she should have expected this. Salvi’s new surveillance equipment put an end to her or Smokey investigating the loading bay. Security was now tighter than a rubber dress.

  After a few more minutes of small talk with Benny, Dom excused herself and took the long way back to S&M Room Five. The door to Suzi Cho’s massage room was open so she stopped and looked in. The slender undercover cop was changing the sheets on her massage table.

  “Yo,” Domino called, and Suzi glanced up. When their eyes met, a flash passed between them, the understanding of coconspirators. Obviously Suzi had learned that Dom was DEA.

  “Hi,” Suzi responded. “Long day?”

  “You could say that.” The corners of Dom’s mouth curved. “Would you like to catch a smoke with me in the parking lot on your next break?
”

  “Only if I can bum one from you,” she answered. “I’m trying to quit so I’m not carrying any.”

  “Hey, it only gives you lung cancer, wrinkles and bad breath,” Domino joked. “What’s not to like?”

  Suzi laughed and checked her appointment printout. “When’s your next break?”

  “Nine-fifteen.” Dom hoped Suzi’s schedule would accommodate a meeting.

  “Looks good to me,” Suzi said. “See you there.”

  An hour later, Domino slipped out the door to the employee parking lot. The February wind cut through her winter coat but the location was the only one at the club where they could talk privately. DEA techno-nerds, stationed in a neighboring building and using state-of-the-art equipment, had swept the employee lot for listening devices. There were security cameras trained on the lot but no bugs. If Salvi happened to check the cameras, she and Suzi—both non-smokers, ironically—would look like two nicotine-addicted employees getting a fix.

  Shaking a cigarette out of the pack she’d bought, grabbing her Bic and cupping her hands against the wind, Dom managed to light it. She dragged smoke into her mouth instead of her lungs and blew it out with her frosted breath. As she was taking a second fake puff, Suzi emerged from the club.

  “This is nuts,” the woman said. “Give me a cancer stick.”

  Domino passed her the lighter with the pack and watched as Suzi attempted the same cupped-hands ritual.

  “Salvi’s installed cameras in the loading bay.” Dom passed along the news without any fanfare.

  “Shit.” The female cop’s opinion mirrored Dom’s.

  “Yeah,” Domino agreed. “And we found out today there’s a leak in the D.A.’s office. Salvi knows Dalton was undercover here on his own time.”

  This news elicited a stronger curse from Suzi before she answered. “Well the D.A. snitch could’ve gotten that info from any number of cop-shop staffers. Dalton and Captain Bennett weren’t exactly whispering when they discussed Jason’s case.”

  “Salvi could know you’re a cop.”

  “Maybe not.” Suzi finally lit the cigarette and drew on it. “Only a couple people know I’m here. The captain wasn’t taking any chances after Jason’s murder.”