Chozen: Gritty, fast-paced police suspense-drama where nothing is as it seems! (Headspace Book 1)

by J Paton

  At the moment that wasn’t my biggest concern. What was, was how I could fast-track my way into the lower-level club without raising suspicion. It had taken Gabriel months, and I didn’t have that amount of time. Okay, maybe it was more about my ability to cope.

  There was a loud knock on the door and I stood, the gun tucked into the back of my jeans pressing against my lower back. I adjusted my T-shirt to cover it before checking the peephole.

  Opening the door, I acknowledged the man I’d been expecting “Thanks for coming, Gabriel.”

  “Phil said it was urgent.”

  I stepped aside to let him pass, my gaze sweeping the hallway behind him before closing the door. Even if I hadn’t known he was a Dom, I would have sensed that there was something different about him. There was something about the way he held himself, the look in his eyes speaking of a man who wouldn’t be messed with.

  “Want a drink?”

  “Not right now. I don’t have much time.” He’d moved across the living room to stand by the small window overlooking the street.

  “Watching for someone?”

  Gabriel glanced at me. “Habit.”

  He didn’t explain further, leaving the window to sit on the leather sofa that was pushed back against the wall to make room for a small coffee table in front of it. The flat was small but decent. It was a step up from some of the shitholes I’d stayed in while undercover in the past.

  I perched on the arm of the overstuffed chair that matched the sofa and got straight to the point. “Do you have any way of getting me in the lower level of the club?”

  Gabriel’s smooth forehead became marred with lines as he shook his head. “It’s taken me several months of hard graft to get an invite into that fucking hellhole.” Gabriel’s gaze travelled over me. “Are you sure you can handle what’s down there?” His tone of voice gave no indication of his personal belief in my abilities.

  “Phil’s given me the rundown on what you found. Let’s just say that I’ve witnessed and participated in worse.”

  Gabriel sat forward, his eyes narrowing. “Participated?”

  That one word hung between us as I tried to figure out how much to share. Up to now, Phil had been the only one I’d been sharing with. I wasn’t meant to discuss the details of open investigations, Macintosh’s disappearance meaning the case was far from closed.

  “See, this is why I hate working with coppers. It’s all fucking take. They give fuck all in return.” Gabriel stood, his anger palpable.

  I held up my hand to stop Gabriel from leaving. “Do you think this is easy? The line I’ve been treading is nigh on impossible to see right now. I’m not trying to be fucking difficult or unhelpful.” I sucked in a shaky breath, reining my temper back in as Gabriel’s hands fisted, his stance indicating he was ready to fight if needs be. “I’m sure Phil has explained my connection to Player’s Kingdom.”

  “He has,” Gabriel said, his face revealing nothing as he sat again.

  “Before we start, I need your assurances that the only person you share this with is Phil. My career is on the line here.”

  “Can’t do that. Nix is involved in this too. Whatever I learn will be shared with him too. We work as a team.”

  The implication was clear. No longer able to sit still, I stood. I stared out of the small window, my mind going back to a time I’d rather forget as I looked at the cloudless, blue sky. It went back to the reason that Phil was in my home. “I worked in undercover ops for about five years, on different cases. I was taking some downtime when I got a call from my boss asking me to come and see him. It was a new case, my knowledge of BDSM and the fact that I was gay making me the perfect candidate for the undercover role.” I glanced back at Gabriel. “That’s where I met Macintosh.”

  Gabriel nodded. “I’ve heard of him. Nothing good, mind. He’s known in the BDSM world as a vulture, one who picks the bones of subs clean.”

  “That’s a good description. Only you forgot perverted and a sick son of a bitch. The man’s depraved in the worst possible way. What he offered in his club was a world where they were free to treat men any way that they wanted without fear of consequences. It was a fucking shark-infested world, a feeding frenzy for those willing to pay a large fee.”

  The image of men chained to the wall, their terrified eyes staring and begging not to be chosen, would haunt me for the rest of my days. “It took me months to infiltrate Macintosh’s circle. Once I had what we’d believed was happening didn’t come fucking close. It was a torture chamber—pure and simple. It had every kind of cruel device you could imagine, and some you wouldn’t. They were used on men unfortunate enough to have met Macintosh’s criteria.”

  “Fucking hell,” Gabriel growled. “It’s the same as Dom’s Haven.”

  A part of me had already known what his answer would be. But to hear him say it aloud turned my legs to jelly, making me glad I was perched on the window ledge. I leaned back, exhaling noisily as my head filled with the memory of empty eyes and mutilated bodies. “We still don’t know how many men were mutilated by his elite members and left to die. Some bodies were recovered from the grounds at the back of the club, post mortems exposing the true horrors they’d endured. Those who were still alive, if you can even call it that, couldn’t, or wouldn’t, talk about the horrors they’d suffered. Out of thirty men, only two were mentally fit enough to take the stand. And they struggled due to PTSD. There were other men mentioned as having disappeared during the time that two other men were held captive, but we didn’t find any evidence of how many, or where Macintosh had disposed of them. We know for sure, though, that there were more than we found.”

  Just saying it aloud left me dry-mouthed. In need of something to drink, I got up and left the room without saying anything to go into the kitchen and retrieve a can of pop from the fridge. I drank deeply, my chest hurting as I gulped it down too fast. Even so, I didn’t stop until the can was empty.

  I returned to the living room to find that Gabriel had taken up a position by the window. He didn’t turn as he spoke. “I’ll do what I can to get you down there. Gimme a few days. I’ve got an idea that might work. Do you have any specialist training in BDSM?”

  Tegan

  The sound of my flipflops drew several glances. I ignored them as I walked down the corridors of the Met in search of answers for Tucker. The notes he’d given me the day before were extensive, and I’d got the impression that he thought I’d been keeping stuff from him. I wasn’t. But if what he’d told me was accurate, then some fucker was, and I was out for blood. It put me and my charge at risk, and that was fucking unacceptable.

  My hope that switching teams would solve my issues had clearly been wrong. It seemed I’d gone straight from the frying pan and into the fire. I’d gone to speak to my DS that morning, needing his approval to approach DCI McHart in order to discuss my concerns.

  DS Kensington had been reluctant to say the least, but I wasn’t one to be easily put off. My last boyfriend would attest to that. Once I got the bit between my teeth, I never let go. I’d quoted safety regs at Kensington for undercover officers until I was sure his ears were bleeding, and eventually he’d agreed, reaching out to DCI McHart to set up the meeting.

  From DS Kensington’s office I’d headed to the Met. To prevent any possibility of blowing my cover, DS Kensington had arranged for us to meet away from where the team working on the op were based. There was no way that any of the officers based here could know that I was Tucker’s handler, but I wasn’t prepared to take any risks.

  After asking at reception where I needed to go, the meeting room was easy to find. I silently cursed when I found not one, but two men seated inside the room as I stepped in through the open door.

  I didn’t know either man. I eyed them both, sizing them up. One wore a beige suit with a cream shirt and brown tie. His shoes were the same colour as his tie. Had he specifically set out to make everything match? The thought of wearing the pristine ensemble made my skin itch. T
he guy looked stiff and up his own arse.

  The other dude wore a grey suit, his jacket on the back of the chair he was sitting on. His shirt was white and he wore no tie, his posture more relaxed than the other man’s.

  They eyed me with the same interest as I was them, and I kept my amusement to myself as the pristine one’s lip curled at the sight of my shorts, T-shirt and visible tattoos. Neither man made an effort to stand, my six-foot-five-inch frame towering over them as I stepped closer and held out my hand. “Tegan Jones.” I met both of their gazes. “Which one of you is DCI McHart?” I suspected it was the pristine one, a fact that was confirmed when he took my hand in the limpest handshake ever and spoke.

  “I’m Detective Chief Inspector McHart.”

  We were the same rank so I didn’t give him a chance to say more, turning my attention to the other guy and holding out my hand. “And you?”

  McHart bristled in the seat, his lips firming into a straight line.

  A dark pink hue covered the other man’s neck, heading for his face as he took my hand. “I’m Detective Inspector Thompson.”

  Once my hand was released, I pushed it into the pocket of my shorts. “I only requested to meet with DCI McHart.” I kept my tone respectful, remaining standing.

  There were usually few external team members who knew the identity of the undercover officers and their handlers. It ensured no fuck-ups in the field and protected the officers. Therefore, my pulse increased as I questioned why DCI McHart had brought another officer to the meeting without consulting me first.

  DCI McHart shifted back in his seat. “That may be so. But… it’s my decision who I include in meetings, not yours. This is my case.”

  Who’d poked a stick up his arse? McHart clearly had an issue. I took a seat on the other side of the small table so that I was facing both men. With Tucker needing answers, I didn’t want to get into a pissing contest so I kept my thoughts to myself—for now. “Shall we move things along? I’ve got a packed schedule with several other meetings after this one.” I offered a toothy grin as I pulled out the folded piece of paper from my pocket. “We can start with answers to these questions.” I pushed it across the table to McHart.

  He wasn’t able to conceal his anger as he eyed the piece of paper. “Parks should have filled you in on the events of New Year’s Eve from the meeting he attended with Mr. Robertson without permission, the one which resulted in this undercover operation.”

  I swallowed hard. How did he know it was Tucker who was undercover? No one this close to the case should have that information. I hoped that my neutral expression was still in place as I met the DCI’s angry gaze. “I have some of the information from Mr. Robertson’s interview,” I answered pleasantly without confirming who the officer undercover was. “What I seem to be missing is the aspects which are connected, such as what’s happening in relation to the two men arrested for attempting to assault or kidnap Mr. Robertson. Both are members of Dom’s Haven and work for the owner, information I supplied in my last report. There is also Devon Critchlow’s case, and what Mr. Robertson claims happened when he visited Dom’s Haven. There is no information forthcoming in this area. Why?”

  I tapped on the table as DCI McHart’s lips pursed. DI Thompson squirmed visibly in his seat, but remained silent.

  “Gentleman, I’m pressed for time. So if one of you could answer, I’d be most grateful.”

  DCI McHart sat forward, his eyes narrowing. “Right now, there’s nothing much to share. We’re waiting for approval on search warrants to go into Mr. Critchlow’s property. This has been delayed pending the outcome of the court case.”

  I nodded. That fit with Tucker’s explanation of New Year’s Eve, where Mr. Gawne, a friend of Mr. Robertson’s, had both been held hostage. Tucker had explained that the security feed had confirmed that Mr. Critchlow had taken both men against their will, drugging Mr. Gawne to get Mr. Robertson to come willingly. That was the basis of the case against Mr. Critchlow. The allegations of how Mr. Robertson had come to be with Mr. Critchlow hadn’t been reported until the previous month. The court case had started today.

  This whole situation was starting to twist my stomach into knots. “It was Mr. Robertson’s claims that on his first night at Dom’s Haven he was ‘given’ to Mr. Critchlow that triggered an undercover operation. Surely the warrants will be a forgone conclusion regardless of the outcome of the court case?”

  There was a snort from DCI McHart as he dropped his gaze to the piece of paper he’d yet to unfold.

  “Is there a problem? Something I’m missing here?”

  McHart’s eyes hardened to chips of ice. “The claim has yet to be substantiated.” Something in his tone indicated that he didn’t believe Mr. Robertson.

  The pissing match I hadn’t wanted seemed imminent. “Then the warrants should help with that, supporting the detailed history of abuse Mr. Robertson’s body has undergone.”

  “The man has been part of the BDSM lifestyle for many years,” McHart spat out like he’d swallowed something distasteful.

  His implication disgusted me and I shook my head. I’d read the case file. “You believe he allowed Mr. Critchlow to abuse him for months? The marks indicate long-term abuse, which is substantiated by the police surgeon’s report. One of the questions I can’t find an answer to is what happened to the hospital report from when Mr. Robertson escaped. It’s detailed in his interview, but I can’t find it in any of the information I have access to.”

  I feared for McHart’s blood pressure as his face turned an alarming shade of red. Therefore, I refrained from asking another question for the time being.

  Several seconds passed before he spluttered, “This meeting is at an end. I don’t like the tone you’re using.” He picked up the paper, crumpling it into a ball and throwing it across the table at me.

  Even though my pulse was hammering, my hand was steady as I retrieved the paper. I stood, meeting his blazing eyes. “Whatever! I’ll forward the questions to your superior. I don’t care who answers them as long as they get answered.” I was already heading for the door before I’d finished speaking. I was four steps down the corridor before I heard my name being called. They could go fuck themselves. I wasn’t about to be pissed around.

  Tucker

  Tegan was unusually quiet when he picked me up at the flat, the silence in the car putting me on edge. “What’s up?”

  He didn’t take his eyes off the road. “Fucking …”

  When his expression turned grim and he didn’t say more, I glanced around for somewhere we could pull over. I pointed to the next turn. “Take that. There’s a park about a hundred yards up the road with a car park.”

  I waited until he’d done as I’d asked and stopped the car before I released my seat belt and turned to face him. He stared forward, the streetlight illuminating his face. “Is this personal shit? Or does it have something to do with the case?” We hadn’t discussed anything personal. It potentially opened up a can of worms when I was never going to share my home situation with him. The only thing about Tegan that I knew was that he came from Dorset.

  The seconds dragged by, the tension in the car increasing. When Tegan finally glanced in my direction, I wasn’t sure what to make of his expression. “I went to see McHart today.”

  “Oh, I bet that was a blast. I’ve been fortunate enough to have only met him once.”

  “How does he know you’re an undercover officer?”

  I sighed. “He was at the meeting that took place with Assistant Chief Constable Kelly, where I got my arse handed to me on a plate for going against a direct order.” I registered Tegan’s look of consternation, but I kept going, laying out exactly what had happened and why DCI McHart was able to put two and two together and come up with the right number.

  “Holy fuck! I don’t have a clue where to start with all that.”

  I laughed without humour. “Me neither.”

  “I get your reluctance now.” Tegan rubbed his hands over his fa
ce. “Well, I haven’t made myself popular today. I took your questions, and a couple of my own. Unfortunately, it turned into a pissing match, so I left without any answers. I went to the DS to find out who DCI McHart’s senior officer was on this case, and you’ll never fucking guess who it is?”

  “Kelly?” I muttered, my dread heavier than it had ever been.

  “Yep, and it seems he doesn’t take too kindly to an officer of my rank questioning the direction one of his officers has taken with the case and what they choose to share.”

  The fury was there in his voice, along with outrage. Before I could say anything, he carried on. “You asked me why I moved and took this job… Well, I’ll tell you, it was because I passed along information to my superior which he didn’t pass along straight away. Men fucking died because he couldn’t do his job properly.” He slammed his hands down on the steering wheel hard enough that it must have hurt him. He didn’t seem to notice though, his gaze shifting back to the windscreen. “I’m fucked if I’m going to let it happen again. Kelly can go fuck himself.”

  Laughter burst out of me at the disrespect that I totally understood. From Tegan’s gaze when it met mine, it seemed like he thought I’d lost my marbles. In that split second, I made another decision. “Take me back to the flat. I think we need to have a talk.”

  “What about?” Deep furrows appeared on his tanned brow.

  “I’d rather not do it here. Take me back and I’ll explain everything.”

  The car journey back seemed to take half the time, not giving me a chance to second guess what I was about to do. My gut said this man could be trusted, and I just hoped it was right.

  Once I was in the flat, I stripped off my jacket, forgetting that I had a leather harness on. There was a noise that sounded like Tegan had attempted to whistle. I glanced back at him, what I saw in his eyes an unexpected complication.