She laughed and pushed to her feet. “Out of control as in your girlfriend would find out and you’d lose your meal ticket?”
Ace’s eyes blazed with anger and Jasmia thought she heard a little growl of anger rumble in her throat.
“The only meal ticket I have, baby, is me,” Ace told her softly but there was a lethal edge to it. “I don’t fuck with anyone’s emotions intentionally and promise things I know I can’t deliver.”
“Like seeing them again?”
Ace sighed and raked her fingers through her hair. “I’m not big on commitment, I admit, but I’m never in one place long enough to be. I do my job and hit the road. I’ve lived in so many different cities around the world I can speak ten languages fluently and fit in like a native.”
“But you said you and your partner were thinking of making this your home base, so what’s your excuse for not seeing me again?”
“Oh fuck,” she exclaimed. “You’re really doing this?”
“Doing what? Asking for what I want?” Jasmia retorted. “If there’s anything I’ve learned from this thing you introduced me to is it’s okay to ask for what I want and expect to get it sometimes.”
Ace took a step toward her and Jasmia thought she’d gone too far, but she hadn’t been able to stop once she’d gotten going.
Ace’s fingers curled around her throat, tightened a fraction. “You want me? Do you truly want to be the woman I turn to?”
“Not just for sex,” she said coldly. “I’m not a fuck toy.”
Ace chuckled and the warm sexy sound washed over her making her body heat in interest. “You are now,” she murmured closing the minute distance between them. “You want me, you can have me, but you’ll give me what I want within reason including your submission out of the bedroom when I ask for it.”
Jasmia frowned considering that. She hadn’t agreed to take a Domme because she didn’t need to be treated like a child. She wouldn’t have her ability to decide for herself taken from her. She’d been suppressed by her family for too long as it was.
“Scared little girl?” Ace taunted releasing her. “That’s what I thought. Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll walk you to your car.”
“So it has to be your terms or no terms,” she snapped. “That’s real grown up.”
Ace cocked a brow at her. “We can negotiate terms all day long, but in the end, some things are non-negotiable because of my job. I have to know I can count on you to be obedient when it counts. I need to know you’ll trust my judgment without argument.”
“Everything is negotiable.”
“Not in my world, Mia,” she told her coolly. “My life is dangerous. Any case can come back to bite me in the ass. Anyone in my life can be turned into a liability. Some people I’d say fuck it, and let ’em die, but it would be different with you.”
Jasmia nodded. “I’ll get dressed. I have to be at work early in the morning,” she said and crossed the room to collect her clothes. Was it worth it?
She didn’t think so.
****
Ace let security walk Jasmia to her car and went to the bar to get a drink. Alexi joined her with a smile.
“What kind of game are you playing, Alexi?” she asked coldly and tossed back the vodka.
“The girl wasn’t delicious?”
“I’m not talking about the girl. I’m talking about the bugs in my room.”
Alexi’s expression went from good-humor to icy. “What bugs? We have a mutual respect for each other’s talents, why would I fuck with you for kicks? I don’t want a war that will destroy everything in both of our lives.”
“That’s not an answer, you tricky bastard,” she snapped. “Try again or we’ve got a problem.”
“Who did you see in the vicinity?”
“Amanda.”
“I’ll find out who she’s working for and get back to you or Devin if I can’t reach you,” Alexi told her, eyes glittering with rage. “I will know by night’s end.” She slid from her stool and stalked away.
Ace declined another drink and headed for her motorcycle. She rarely had a chance to really enjoy it. Being stationary would ensure she took it out a little more often. She checked her black and blue trim Harley out for bombs and tracking devices before unlocking the small box on the back that held her helmets and leather jacket.
She jerked out the jacket and a smile flirted with her lips. It would have been nice to take Mia out on the bike. She probably would love the speed and the caress of the wind. She couldn’t play the game on her terms. She couldn’t keep Mia safe if she didn’t agree to her rules and Ace knew she’d move heaven and earth and walk through hell for Mia.
“She doesn’t have me,” she muttered softly, but she knew Jasmia already owned part of her heart. She’d stolen it when their eyes had met for that brief second on the beach Ace’s first morning in Maine.
She’d gotten involved with her not just because Jasmia had lived closer to the mark’s house, but because she’d wanted her so bad her cat had prowled right too her door that evening like the horny tomcat she was.
She wanted her even more now. Mia smelled different, had a different energy than a mere human. Her pheromones were like—oh fuck.
Jasmia was a cat shifter too and she’d been in heat that first time just as she was now. Being in the same city with Mia was going to make it impossible to keep her cat from dragging her to Mia’s door.
She was screwed ten ways from Sunday and it wasn’t all good.
Chapter Seven
Jasmia dropped into her desk chair the next morning. She set her coffee to perch precariously on the edge while she set her large purse on the desk and opened it. She pulled her tablet free with the notes for a story she wasn’t making much headway on. She couldn’t seem to get any traction. Lowell Grande had promised her an interview, but he kept calling it off and postponing which made her certain he had no intentions of giving her one at all.
He’d held a press conference and Feminine Confidence Magazine hadn’t been invited which was crazy since the fundraiser he was holding was for the LGBT community. He was throwing his support behind a shelter for gay teen runaways that badly needed funding and renovations.
She’d read the article and it hadn’t said much really, just talked about the fundraiser. She wanted to know his plans as she was sure some of the community the shelter was located in did. He wasn’t known for being a supporter of the LGBT community so Sabrina, her boss, was curious about the support he offered now.
“How’s the story coming?”
She snorted. “I wish.” The young woman she shared the office with smiled. “Be right back. I’m going to get some coffee.”
She turned on her computer and it beeped, signaling new mail as she stored her purse in the bottom desk drawer. Jasmia closed the drawer before checking the mail, finding and quickly opening the message from LVG.
LVG was the name of Lowell Grande’s business. It was one of those home shopping networks that did a gazillion dollars a year judging from the other charities he supported.
Dear Jasmia,
We have a standard press package we send from our company and its creator. I’m sending you that along with answers to your questions about Mr. Grande’s less-known charitable donations. A list of the organizations and their contact numbers is included for your convenience. If you have any further questions, please feel free to contact me.
I’m also sending you two tickets by courier to the fundraiser for you and a guest. Please bring your press credentials. I do apologize. Mr. Grande simply won’t be able to fit you into his schedule. He’ll give a brief statement at the fundraiser and only at the fundraiser. You may ask two questions then.
Regards,
Lacey
“Lacey, let’s see what that standard package includes.” Jasmia downloaded the file and then sent it to the printer before archiving the file and fishing a micro SD card out to save the information on. She’d be able to go through it later. She knew she ha
d an interview in an hour and wouldn’t be able to get through it all.
“The man’s a piece of work,” she muttered and grabbed her coffee and took a sip before setting it down again. Her phone rang and she bent to retrieve it from her purse.
A throat cleared, and Jasmia’s head jerked up. Her gaze collided with the hazel green eyes of her boss, Sabrina Cain. She had one hand in the pocket of her sleek black suit pants with her gleaming cropped hair brushed neatly into place. Her mouth was pulled into a straight line telling Jasmia she was perturbed about something.
She set her phone on her desk letting the call go to voicemail. “Good morning, Ms. Cain.”
Sabrina glided from the doorway to stand before her desk situated next to a window. The slate gray mingled with charcoal provided an almost earthy backdrop for work. “How’s the Lowell story coming? Any changes?”
“No.” She sighed. “The contact sent me some information on the company and has more or less said he won’t be giving me an interview. I’m invited to the fundraiser whereby I’ll be allowed to ask two questions.” She sat back in her chair.
“I’ve put together all the background info on him and this will add to what I have on his business,” Jasmia said. “I just wonder why he’s involved with the shelter. The man’s never done a thing for the community until now.”
“Could be just a tax write-off.” Sabrina shrugged with an obvious lack of interest. “Just make sure you have all your facts right. I don’t want a lawsuit over a misunderstanding.”
“I will.
“After you’ve spoken to him at the fundraiser—just get a few quotes for the story, I want to see a preview of the story. If he’s hiding something it’ll come out, and I’ll let you do the story on his trickery.” A mocking smile tugged at Sabrina’s lips.
“Okay,” Jasmia muttered. “What about today’s story? You didn’t give me many details last night. I know it’s part of that series on successful lesbian women. I was wondering if we could throw in a few pieces on successful straight women too.”
“Who’d you have in mind?” she asked.
She grabbed a list from her desk drawer and handed it over.
Sabrina nodded as she handed the pages back. The woman must be a speed reader. “I like what you’ve got here. I’ll put Kacey and Chloe on a couple of these ASAP. Good work. I like the initiative.” Sabrina’s smile was approving.
“Thanks.”
“As for today’s story. You need to head on over to the address I gave you. It’s Mojo’s on Cross and Line. It’s a new company, female owned. I’ll have Darice get the pics, so you don’t have to worry about getting them yourself.”
The magazine’s photographer had quit so Sabrina was contracting the work out to Super Fine Studios. Darice McMasters did a great job, plus her lover Chloe worked here.
“Who am I asking for?” she asked.
“Ace Baker or Devin Sinclair.”
Okay,” Jasmia agreed congenially. “My notes said it was a security firm?”
“Yes and it’s around seventeen years old,” Sabrina told her.
She’d gone over the small bio on the company she’d been given last night and come up with a working list of questions. She would have liked to have known a little more about Mojo, but it was her job to find out.
“I didn’t find anything about them on the internet,” Jasmia murmured. “I’m not questioning your judgment or anything. I just wanted to go in more prepared.”
“You’ll do fine,” Sabrina assured her with a smile. “If you don’t find a date to the fundraiser, let me know a few days in advance, and I’ll go with you.”
“Thanks, boss. I did suggest to Lacey that not inviting you would be a snub more or less since you’re openly gay, and you’re a big supporter of the LGBT community.” Sabrina and Darice had surprised her by being open about their sexuality. There were so many businesswomen worried about the public’s reaction, but not them.
She had to wonder just how open Axana was.
“I guess he doesn’t think I can afford a ticket,” she said with a grin. “You should get going. I don’t want you to be late.”
“Right.” She hated being late. It made a bad impression and she didn’t want to have to grovel or get in trouble with Sabrina. She loved her job despite her family pushing her to quit it. She just wished she could stand up to them and tell them they could take her or leave her as she was.
Look how good asking for what she wanted had gone over with Axana. She still wasn’t going to be able to see her again, and her cat desperately wanted to rub against her and be petted by her.
Axana had a powerful aura, a sensuality that showed in the way she moved as well as her looks. She could be a lioness with the confidence in her stride and her attitude. It was just too bad she’d never get a chance to get to really know the woman who’d stolen her heart in seven days.
Love didn’t last though, especially when it was a fleeting thing that began on a beach in Maine. It had the power to cut the heart to ribbons and shred the soul if you asked too much of it.
Chapter Eight
Ace stared out the wide window of the new base command for Mojo. It was located on a scenic stretch of land just off a busy street filled with stores, eateries, and businesses. The building looked like a quaint split-level Victorian house.
The acquisition had been a calculated move on her business partner’s part. She didn’t think they needed an actual home base. They worked and lived from place to place going where the wind blew them. Her friend thought establishing an actual residence would give them an air of respectability and normalcy as tax-paying business owners. Devin had decreed they’d be doing more boring-ass security work and divorce cases for desperate housewives than normal.
Course there could be an advantage to being stationary here. They could socialize with people they knew weren’t a threat to them and she could make a few trips to No Dice.
“Oh no you don’t,” she muttered. “You horny damn tomcat. We’re not going anywhere near that damned woman. No matter how good she smells right now.”
The scent of a shifter cat in heat was amazing and alluring. If the female knew how to use the power that made her the most seductive creature for a week each month she could entrance and entrap any lover she wanted. Once the heat faded so did the captivation unless the cat used just a drop of its urine which contained the potent pheromones in her favorite perfume.
The pheromones would overpower the urine smell to create a powerful fragrance the man would always seek out.
She’d heard of an interesting branch of magick called feline tradition that incorporated several ancient teachings that made use of spells and potions to create change for the user. It was a feminine art that few of their species would admit had validity, but she knew it to be a gross miscalculation.
At the vaguest hint of her office door opening, Ace’s cat raised its head ready to attack though she knew the building to be empty except for her partner. They didn’t officially start taking cases here for another two weeks. The staff was finishing up other jobs and getting settled.
She turned from the window that over looked the gated side of their building. The sun had perched on the privacy fence made of knotty wood and the ivy crept sneakily along the fence’s top and sliding down it. Striding in like she owned the entire place in worn jeans was her partner.
“Ace.” Devin crossed the room where Ace stood behind her desk and faced her. She’d known Devin since they were sixteen year-olds busting their asses at a burger joint.
They’d both been foster children whose families had been killed when they were young. They’d gone from girls of privilege to abused and love-starved kids hiding not just the trauma of violence but their shifter natures. The friendship they’d found in each other had been their only solace. It had also been the basis for the partnership they’d formed a scant two years later.
Ace pushed her hands into the pockets of her black chinos paired with a red shirt, top two b
uttons left open to reveal the silver chain of the tags all operatives wore.
“What?” Her own voice was bland to her ears, but Devin’s expression didn’t change.
“I need you to do something you aren’t going to like,” Devin told her in matter-of-fact tone.
Ace already didn’t like whatever her friend was going to say. Her eyes may be emotionless but her voice held a hint of humor.
“What?”
“We’re going to have to appear as normal as possible especially after the intel I got from my contact last night.”
She frowned. Devin didn’t run and neither did she. They’d both done time in South American hell-hole jails, been tortured by sadistic assholes in the Middle East, and they’d tangled with some of the nastiest mutant mercenaries alive. They were both probably just a hair away from going feral under the right circumstances. You didn’t live the life they did and continuously come out whole without an anchor and neither of them had one.
They had each other but it wasn’t the same as a lover, someone to always be there.
“DHS has agents investigating us,” Devin told her. “The State’s Attorney had sent an email to an agent in Homeland Security about Mojo. He was supposed to meet him about a list of operatives’ names. He mentioned you by name and said he had proof you were behind the assassination of an American diplomat in Iraq.”
The fucker should have just stuck to his job instead of becoming a spy. “Hard drives were wiped and info was handed off. I did the job we were asked to do.” She even had a back-up copy of the conversation she’d had with the head of the organization who’d contracted the hit. She did things like that in case she needed leverage.
“Not only that, they have some security footage of you the night you took the lawyer and his cop friend out at the beach house in Maine.”
“Me or a shape?”
“A shape more or less,” Devin confessed with a shrug.
“That’s nothing to fart at,” she replied nonchalantly. “That won’t get them a wiretap.”
“Let’s just hope the US Marshals don’t get involved this time,” she said coolly and her eyes hardened.
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