by Karen Nappa
"How so?" Could this information help him with his relationship with Paula?
Again, Jackson answered, "As you know, I'm a dozen years older than Henry. It felt wrong and society frowns on May-December relationships, especially when the dominant partner is the younger one."
Jim frowned but nodded. "I know, but I don't agree, because age has nothing to do with love."
"True, but our society isn't as tolerant. So, we had our age difference and being gay. Of course, the whole BDSM element held a strong appeal to me, but I was ashamed of it."
"Why?" Jim didn't understand. From the moment he'd learned about the lifestyle, he'd taken to it like Eowyn of Rohan took to the sword.
"Mostly preconceptions, I think. Some real fear for what I was getting into and the thought I was in over my head. I also had the problem of separating my love for Henry and my wish to pursue the lifestyle."
"Were you in a Master/slave dynamic right away?" Jim was curious.
"No, oh no, we started simply. Spiced things up in the bedroom, you know."
"Do you think it was wrong to try a Master/slave contract with Paula? Should I have courted her vanilla-style and eased her into BDSM?"
Henry answered that question, "I don't think a vanilla relationship would suit your needs and I'm fairly certain it wouldn't suit Paula, either. I think you have to talk to her and find out where she stands. I saw her watching you at Josh's adoption party. The woman isn't over you, Jim."
On that note, Henry tugged the leash, eliciting a groan from Jackson since it was attached to a silver cock ring.
"It's time to go and find Connor. I want some nice bruises on that pretty ass of yours when I pound into you tonight, my sweet slave," Henry told his partner.
Jim watched as Jackson morphed into his submissive persona and followed the couple to the room where Connor would do the whipping.
Connor had roped off an area around the St. Andrew's cross on the third floor, so he could safely wield his whip. If the swing of the whip were hindered, it could be dangerous for both bystanders and the participants and Connor wasn't one to take chances. He was warming up and the cracking of the whip sounded ominous, although from the color on Suzie's cheeks, she was highly aroused.
Connor halted his whip swinging, rolled his shoulders, and moved his head from side to side. He walked over to Suzie and took her mouth in a long kiss, before taking a nipple in his mouth. Henry, meanwhile, led Jackson to the cross and attached him with practiced efficiency. A squeak from Suzie pulled Jim's attention to the other pair in the room. Connor had attached a nipple clamp to her right breast and now was preparing her left nipple. From the sounds she made, he wasn't delicate about it and the clamps looked vicious. Jim wondered how Paula would react to clamps and if he would ever find out the answer to that question. She seemed to enjoy breast play and her nipples would look beautiful, either clamped or pierced. Jim had to adjust himself in his leathers at the thought of it.
Another squeak brought him back to the scene in front of him. Connor was tugging on a chain that led from both Suzie's breasts to her crotch. Jim narrowed his eyes. Oh, wow, Connor had attached a clamp to her clit as well and now he was teasing the chain that connected the clamps. Suzie was panting and sweating, but when Connor stroked her pussy, his hand came back glistening with her wetness.
Connor's cheeks creased as he rose with a final, playful tug and he sauntered over to Jackson.
Henry had warmed up his slave's buttocks with bare handed slaps and the guy's ass cheeks glowed with pink and red handprints. Connor swiped his hand over the man's back and butt and nodded to Henry, who walked away after a last kiss.
Connor stepped away from the shackled slave and uncoiled his whip from his belt. With the whip handle in his dominant hand, he held the end in his other while circling around the naked man on the cross. He flicked the whip over and over against Jackson's quivering flesh until the man was moaning and wiggling.
Connor halted and signaled for the other Master, and as Henry reached Jackson, his hand snaked around to his front. "Is your cock betraying you? Why are you hard? Is my slutty boy getting off on getting his ass beaten?"
Jim couldn't hear Jackson's reaction, but his Master seemed to think he could have more. Henry nodded to Connor and walked away and Connor resumed the dance of the whip over Jackson's back and butt until the flesh was bright red. As always, Jim was impressed by Connor's skill with the whip. He'd never break the skin, and if these marks bruised, they'd be gone in a couple of days. The strokes were grouped around Jackson's shoulders and on his buttocks and legs, not one hit landing in an area where impact toys could do serious damage, like the kidneys.
Again, Connor signaled for Henry and the Master seemed satisfied with the beating Jackson had gotten, because both men quickly untied him.
Henry led Jackson over to the sawhorse in the corner and bent Jackson over it. He opened his leathers and rolled a condom over his impressive length. Henry took the time to lube Jackson's asshole and the slave struggled to hold himself still. With a tug on Jackson's leash, the man arched his back, Henry drove his hips forward and impaled him on his cock. Jim couldn't help thinking about his Melda and how well she had taken the butt plug. He wondered how she would react to his cock there and if he would ever get the chance to try.
His thoughts were interrupted by the crack of the whip. Jim swung his head back in time to see Connor working up and down the still unmarked skin on Suzie's back and bottom.
She moaned and lifted her butt into the strikes that rained down on her. Jim noticed a purple device between Suzie's legs. Her clever husband, top, and sadist had probably shoved a vibrator in her cunt on a setting high enough to keep her aroused and low enough to keep her from coming anytime soon.
As Connor drove Suzie higher and higher with well-placed hits, the grunts and groans from both Jackson and Henry had Jim shifting uneasily in his chair. He hadn't gotten off since Paula walked out of his life and his dick was harder than the rocks of Caradhras.
Suzie keened her orgasm as Connor changed his hold on the whip and angled it so he'd hit Suzie between her legs.
Jim rose to help Connor unshackle her from the cross. He couldn't do anything about his discomfort, but he could make himself useful. Jim would do the cleaning, while Connor tended to his wife and sub. "Take Suzie; I'll take care of this."
Connor thanked him and hoisted his woman in his arms.
Henry was using the perched over position Jackson was in to rub his marks with salve and Jim could smell the pine-sage odor from the arnica in it.
Jim rubbed the cross clean with the disposable wipes that were available in every room of the club, while Henry and Connor tended to their partners. It was nice to be part of a community, but Jim missed his Melda. How nice it would have been to engage in some aftercare of his own, he mused as he walked over to the sawhorse to finish cleaning.
Chapter 14
After five months of work, the Drug Interdiction squad was no closer to shutting down the local meth labs. Although they had located two, both had been abandoned. Capt. Lacey was beginning to suspect a leak somewhere in the department. Regardless, they were still checking all leads, no matter how slim. Today, Jim and Will were following yet another tip from Zach. He'd given them three before that had all been dead ends. Will had argued that they shouldn't bother with him again, but Jim wanted to try once more. Something seemed different to him this time. They were headed to an address on The Paseo that had not yet been redeveloped. The house looked run down, the yard was dirt and overgrown with weeds. They parked down the block and put on their vests and comm units before getting out of the car.
There was a child about five years old playing with a small truck in the front yard. As soon as he saw them, he grabbed his toy and ran toward the back of the house.
Will started to turn around.
"Where are you going? We haven't checked the house yet," Jim said.
"No one is stupid enough to cook meth with a kid in the
house," Will countered.
"I'm not so sure. Tweakers will take a lot of risks," Jim replied. "Let's get closer and see what's happening."
Will turned back reluctantly. "Okay, you take the back. I'll see if anyone answers the door."
Jim circled around the next-door neighbor's garage so he could get behind the house without being spotted. The backyard looked like the front but with taller weeds. The boy was in the back corner, lying down flat, trying to hide.
"No answer. What have you got?" Will asked, his voice slightly distorted over the comm unit.
"Checking now," Jim replied.
He noticed an open window and edged along the building toward it. As he got close, he recognized the smell of meth cooking. He had to hold his breath to keep from coughing and giving away his presence. He backed away from the house to the other side of the garage before checking in with Will. "It's a go. I can smell it cooking. Back off and call in the cavalry."
"Will do. Get back here pronto."
"As soon as I get the kid. We can't leave him here. The place could blow sky-high any minute."
"You know the orders. Stand clear, Cagney!"
"I'll be with you as soon as I've got the kid."
Jim headed to the weeds, straight to the little boy. He knew he was risking exposure if whoever was inside looked out. The child didn't move. He was lying face down with his truck tucked tightly between his arm and body. Jim touched his back gently and the boy turned his head.
Jim held a finger to his lips and whispered, "I'm a policeman and I think something bad may happen. We need to get out of here. It's a secret, so we have to be quiet."
Jim crouched in front of the kid to appear less threatening. The boy had a look of fear in his eyes that reminded Jim of Josh. He had to keep him from running into the house. Jim could feel the danger in the air.
The boy looked from his face to the truck he was clutching and back up with a wariness that shouldn't be on a face so young. Jim had to force down the urgency he was feeling. He was losing precious seconds, but he needed the boy to trust him.
"That's a beautiful truck, kiddo. Do you like trucks?"
The child looked down at the red Tonka dump truck in his hands and nodded.
"I have a big car, a real police car, do you want to take a ride?"
A hint of a smile and a nod was the answer Jim got.
"My name is Jim, what's yours?"
"Mikey."
"Okay, Mikey, let's go for a ride."
The boy looked at him without blinking, but he let Jim pick him up. Jim got a firm grip on the small, stiff body and moved toward the front of the house. The boy smelled of peanut butter and dirty clothes. He was small enough that Jim was surprised he wasn't wearing a diaper.
Jim started for the front of the house, going around the opposite side this time. He wanted the shortest route. As he got to the front, he heard a loud noise behind him. He thought about turning around but felt a huge force propelling him upward. He held onto Mikey with all his strength, tucking the boy's head under his chin. For a moment, he seemed to be airborne and thought he should try to roll to keep the boy from hitting the ground first. He never got the chance. His head hit the sidewalk and everything went black.
Paula knew something was amiss the moment she stepped out of the conference room. She'd been wrestling with a difficult report and had gone there to escape her phone. On a normal day, the station buzzed with energy, conversations, the clicking of keyboards, and laughter. Now, people were huddled together in small groups, talking in hushed tones. A few phones rang in the otherwise eerie silence that lay over the room like a heavy blanket.
Paula walked over to a nearby colleague. "What's going on?"
"Explosion in a meth house. One of our guys got caught in the blast zone saving a kid," was the clipped answer.
"Fuck! How bad? Who?"
"From what I hear, it's pretty bad, head injury, and who knows what else. It was Jim Cagney from the Drug Squad. He had his vest on, at least, and he saved the kid."
If he'd punched her in the face, she couldn't have been more shocked. "J-Jim," she stammered. Paula felt like her world stopped, right then and there.
She grabbed his arm, not caring that her fingernails dug into his skin. "Where did they take him?"
"The kid?" He looked baffled.
Her instinct was to shake him, but she held herself back and answered through gritted teeth, "No. Detective Cagney." Mentally, she added 'moron' to it.
"Oh." He shot her a puzzled look. "Cagney's at Truman, and the kid's at Children's Mercy."
Without glancing back to her colleague, she spun around and rushed to get her keys. Jim was in the hospital, injured, and she needed to be by his side.
Paula rushed to her car in the department parking lot. She hadn't bothered to put on her jacket, and a sudden cloudburst had her thin cotton blouse soaked before she reached her vehicle. Paula pressed the remote button on her key and jumped into her car. She had the Volkswagen Passat started and moving before she'd even fastened her seatbelt. She struggled with the clasp as she backed out of her parking place. As she reached the exit, she had to slam on her brakes to avoid colliding with a bike messenger who ignored a stop sign. Any other day, she'd have pulled him over for a safety lecture! Paula passed a semi that was moving at a snail's pace and had to brake again when the bonehead in front of her stopped for a yellow light. Who did that? She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, impatient for the light to turn green again. Why did it have to take so long? The light changed, but the car in front of her didn't move. What the —Paula slammed her hand against the car horn and she could see the driver in front of her jerk. He started moving, and as soon as she could, Paula swung her car around him. She threw an angry glance at the driver through the side window and noticed the asshole talking on his phone. No wonder his driving was so bad! Phones were distracting and should be illegal in traffic.
An eternity later, Paula drove the Passat into the parking garage at Truman Medical Center and was relieved when she found an empty spot right away. She managed to park her car and get to the emergency department in under five minutes, which must have been a record.
Paula slowed down her pace and marched up to the registration desk. "Good afternoon," she said with firm but polite tone. "Could you please tell me what room Jim Cagney is in?"
"Mr. Cagney is in ICU," the receptionist said. "You'll have to find out up there if he's allowed to have visitors."
"Can you tell me how to get there?"
"Take the elevator at the end of the hall to the fourth floor. Turn left and follow the signs."
She arrived at another information desk at the entrance to the Intensive Care Unit. Again, she asked for Jim and this time was directed inside to the nurse's station. The ICU was full of noise and everyone seemed to be either in motion or on the phone. She walked up to the counter and drummed her fingers on the desk until the nurse finished her call and looked up. "I'm Det. Sgt. Paula Stone. I'd like to see Jim Cagney, please. Could you tell me what room he's in?"
"I'm sorry. Only family is allowed at this time," the petite woman said.
Paula gritted her teeth. Damn hospital privacy rules. She needed to be with him! "I'm his fiancée." She lied and hoped the nurse couldn't tell. The woman's gaze slid to Paula's hand, lingered on her bare fingers, and came up to her face. The nurse straightened her shoulders and Paula braced for a rejection. Then a mischievous smile broke out over the woman's face. "Of course, Det. Stone, Det. Cagney is in room 4045. I need to check in on him. Come this way." She started walking down the hall and threw over her shoulder, "Head injury patients shouldn't be left alone, regulations, my ass. Make sure to get that ring on your finger before anyone else notices; otherwise, we're both in big trouble."
Paula grinned at her, despite the grim situation, and followed the nurse to Jim's room. The woman in scrubs halted at the second glass door on the right in a wide hall and turned toward Paula. "Don't be alarmed by the sight of h
im."
Paula nodded. "Thank you." She peered at the name badge. "Molly, I really appreciate this."
Molly gestured. "Go on in. I'll do a quick check of his vitals and then I'll leave you alone with your fiancée."
Despite the warning Molly had given her, Paula was shocked at the sight of him. His big, muscular body was splayed out on the bed and he was covered by a thin blanket. An IV line was attached to his left hand. Wires went from his chest to a monitor and there was some kind of gizmo on the end of his index finger. An oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth. His beautiful face was marred with two blackened eyes and a bandaged nose. Most shocking, was a tube coming out of his chest that ran into a device half full of water.
"Oh, Jim." Paula rushed over to the side of the bed.
Molly adjusted Jim's IV and checked the readouts on the monitor before going to the computer to enter her notes. She turned to Paula and spoke quietly. "He hasn't regained consciousness yet. We're monitoring his vitals closely. Luckily, he's young and in good shape. He wasn't inside the building when the place went up, but he got hit by some debris trying to get clear of the house. His vest took the brunt of the impact, or his injuries would be much worse. Because he was carrying the child, he couldn't brace for the fall. The CT scan of his head didn't show anything beyond his broken nose, so on that front, things look good. He also has a pneumothorax—a collapsed lung—from a broken rib he sustained in the explosion. That's been resolved without surgery, but the chest tube has to stay in until we're sure his lung is properly inflating. Something hit his left thigh and fractured his femur. We've got it immobilized but surgery will have to wait until he regains consciousness or we're sure he's stable." Molly patted her shoulder. "I'll let you know as soon as I know more." She walked away and slid the door closed behind her.
Paula turned her attention back to Jim.
"Damn it, Cagney. You have to wake up. We never went to that shibari class you promised me. I-I never told you that I love you." Her voice broke and tears pooled in her eyes. She picked up his limp hand and held it to her cheek. "I need you, Jim, Sir." For the first time, Sir sounded right to her. She tried it again, feeling braver now. "I need you, and I love you, Sir. Please get better."