AtHerCommand (19 page)

“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.”

Dom nodded. “Still it’s a whole new ballgame,” she said.
“And we need a whole new game plan…”

Chapter Nineteen

Ten p.m.
Domino glanced at her dashboard clock and
drummed her fingers on her steering wheel as she waited for her garage door to
open. Was it her imagination, or was the damn thing operating in slow motion?
Maybe she was just impatient to get inside her house to see if Dalton was
waiting for her.
Don’t get your hopes up. Even if he decides to drop by this
evening, he won’t expect you home for hours.

Thanks to Salvi, her late-night clients had been
rescheduled. The club manager, after a briefing by Mattingly, had arranged for
her to have an early night. Apparently Salvi had been pleased with the lawyer’s
report. However, since Salvi’s facial expressions ranged from cold to
emotionless, it was difficult to tell when he was happy about anything.

Finally the door was fully open. Dom drove her VW into the
garage, turned off the ignition and pushed the remote to send the garage door
sliding back down with the speed of a glacier. For several seconds, she sat
listening to the ticking of the cooling car engine. What if Dalton
was
inside?

Dom nibbled on her lower lip. What if he wasn’t interested
in picking up where they’d left off that morning? What if Dalton regretted what
they’d done together?

“
Pollo piccolo
,” Domino muttered, resting her
forehead on the steering wheel. She was being a “little chicken”, as her
grandmother had teasingly called her whenever she’d refused to face her fears.
But what if Dalton’s desire for her had evaporated? What if the most incredible
night of her life was no big deal to him?

Cursing herself for being such a wimp, Dom grabbed her purse
and slipped out her car. It’d be better to find out the truth than to fear the
worse. She let herself into her house, stepping into the mudroom off the
kitchen. The soft light over her dinette set glowed in welcome. Had she
forgotten to turn it off when she’d left for the club earlier?

Hanging up her winter coat on a wall peg, she walked into
the kitchen and caught her breath. Dalton sat at the table, holding her
contented canine partner in his lap.

“Welcome home,” he said, strumming her senses with his deep
voice. “Smokey and I were sharing some beer nuts. Want some?”

Dom shook her head as the dog jumped down and trotted over
to greet her. Bending to stroke his tufted head, she watched Dalton rise and
approach in a slow, predatory swagger. She straightened, self-conscious and
painfully aware her uncertainty was showing.

“Long day?” He stopped in front of her and searched her
face.

“Yeah.” Could he sense her hesitation? Was he only here for
a report on the case? “A long and frustrating day.”

“Maybe you should get off your feet.” He scooped her up in his
arms. At her astonished gasp, he shot her a wicked grin.

“Dalton, you idiot, put me down!” she ordered but spoiled
the command with a giggle. Her rush of relief at the desire in his eyes made
her giddy.

“Sure, in a minute.” He carried her down the hall and into
her bedroom. Turning, he kicked the door shut in Smokey’s face. Domino heard
the dog version of disgruntled grumbling before the pooch pattered away. Dalton
strode to the bed and placed her on the mattress, coming down on top of her.

“Did you miss me?” he asked.

“You’re so damn cocky,” she teased. “What do you think?”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“You first.”

Dalton rolled his eyes. “What, are we in kindergarten? Okay,
I missed you.” His expression grew serious as he searched her face. “I missed
the hell out of you.”

Dom sobered and brushed a lock of dark hair off his
forehead. “I missed you too.”

For an immeasurable moment they just stared, connected on an
emotional level she’d never experienced. Then Dalton closed the scant distance
between them to take her mouth in a gentle, breath-stealing kiss. Her whole
body sang in response but the loudest note came from her heart. And Domino knew
she was sliding with terrifying swiftness into love.

She ran her hands down his sides and tugged his shirt free
from his jeans. Maybe, Dom thought in desperation, if she just concentrated on
the lovemaking, she wouldn’t be so heartsick when the relationship ended.

Dalton however, refused to be rushed. He caught her wrists
and brought them to his lips. When he ran his tongue over her fingers and
pressed kisses into her palms, Dom shivered and surrendered to his languid
pace.

“I’ve waited hours to hold you again.” He brushed his
beard-roughened cheek against her hand. “I want to enjoy every inch of you.”
Dalton lowered her arms to the bed and she moaned as he nuzzled her neck.

“Your scent drives me crazy,” he continued, the rumble of
his voice vibrating against her skin. “I want to taste you everywhere.” He
opened the top buttons of her fleece shirt and explored the planes of her
collarbone.

Domino had never had a lover who caressed her with words
while he stroked her body. Would it have the same sensuous effect on him if she
described her thoughts aloud?

Urging herself to match his sexy monologue, she whispered
close to his ear. “I’ve dreamed of touching your body all day,” she said,
thrilled she had the courage to say such things. “Running my hands over you and
taking you in my mouth—”

His groan stopped her. Had she gone too far? Despite the
throbbing of his cock evident even through the jeans, she stammered on. “I’ve
never actually done that but I thought you might like it if I kissed you
there…”

Dalton gave a choked laugh and tilted his head to look at
her. His pupils were so large and inky black. “You’re killing me here, baby.
I’m trying to take things slow.”

His use of the endearment and the affection on his face
flooded her with warmth and bolstered her daring. “Don’t. We’ll make a banquet
of it the next time.” Domino grinned. “And we’ll savor every moment. But for
now…”

She slipped her hand between their bodies and rubbed the
swollen length of him through his jeans. He shut his eyes and shuddered, his
jaw clenching in his fight for control.

Dom leaned closer, her lips brushing his as she spoke. “Why
don’t we think of this first time as an appetizer—something hot and fast?”

Her last words were all but swallowed up as he kissed her
hard. Then, taking her suggestion to heart, he swept her into a mind-blowing,
pulse-pounding ride.

* * * * *

“Hit me with your best shot…why don’t you hit me—”

With a curse, Domino slammed the snooze button on her clock
radio, cutting off Pat Benatar mid-note. Then she turned onto her back with a
groan and stared at the ceiling. Were little S&M gremlins programming her
favorite FM stations? Maybe Dalton had slept through the noise. Right on cue,
the bed shifted and the man himself was smiling down at her.

“Don’t say it,” she grumbled.

“What?” he asked, all feigned innocence. “That you seem to
have a violent taste in music? That I wonder if Mistress Bella uses the songs
to get pumped up for action in the mornings?”

She glared at him and he laughed before kissing her frowning
lips. The press of his body against hers made Dom aware that
all
of him
was wide-awake. Her irritation at the radio vanished as Dalton slid his mouth
to her ear. His nibbling sent electric sensations pulsing through her system.

Giggling, something she was doing surprisingly often these
days, Domino wiggled away from his sexy ministrations. “I wouldn’t be throwing
accusations at Bella, if I were you.
You’re
the only one who’s pumped up
this morning.”

Dalton grinned and ran his hand across her peaking nipples.
“Are you sure about that?”

The rasp of his callused palm against her flesh had her
shivering, lighting an appreciative gleam in his eyes. But before they could
act on their desires, her doorbell chimed.

This time Dalton cursed as they rolled out of bed together.
Crossing to her closet, Dom slipped on her sweat suit. She had goose bumps and
wasn’t sure if it was the chill of leaving a warm bed or her dread that Salvi
was at her door. As Dalton zipped his jeans and shrugged into his shirt, the
doorbell rang again.

“Stay here,” she instructed, opening her bedroom door.

Dalton started to speak but simply nodded. It was obvious he
wasn’t happy with the need to stay hidden. Dom walked to the front door and
looked through the peephole.
Meyers.

Relieved, she called, “It’s my partner Meyers.”

Dalton stepped into the hallway as she unlocked and opened
the front door. The large, red-haired man standing on her front porch was
indeed the DEA operative who’d coordinated Dalton’s rescue a couple of nights
ago. Before he could greet him however, Meyers stepped inside, pulled Dom into
an embrace and kissed her—not a peck on the lips between friends but a
full-blown, tonsil-swabbing kiss. Dalton fisted his hands as a cauldron of
anger clouded his vision. He charged forward with the single intent of knocking
in Meyers’ teeth.

Before Dalton reached the couple, Dom pushed her partner off
her and slammed the front door, concealing all three of them from anyone
watching her house. Dalton stopped, unnoticed by the DEA agent and still
wanting to plant a fist in his face.

“What the hell was that for?” Dom demanded, rubbing her
sweatshirt sleeve across her mouth.

Meyers, still focused on Domino, smirked. “Just staying in
character. I’m supposed to be your boyfriend, remember?”

“Well, try something like that again,” she spat out, “and
you’ll be singing soprano.
Capisce
?”

Meyers’ look turned mulish. “Are you planning to call New
Jersey and sic some of your knee-breaker uncles on me?”

“She won’t have to call long distance,” Dalton said,
watching as both their heads snapped in his direction. “I’ll be happy to do the
job if you touch her again.”

Dalton registered Domino’s grimace and eye-roll, but he
never took his eyes off Meyers. They glared at each other as the agent drew
himself up to his full height. It was plain Meyers had realized the
significance of Dalton exiting the bedroom in bare feet and an unbuttoned shirt.
For a testosterone-charged moment, Dalton hoped the man would throw a punch.
He’d love to mop the floor with the arrogant bastard.

A sharp bark drew all eyes downward. Smokey had joined the
standoff, planted firmly by Dalton’s side. The dog, looking disturbingly like a
rabid rodent, was growling at Meyers.

Chuckling, Domino stepped forward and swept Smokey into her
arms. “My hero,” she crooned to the dog, kissing its nose and ignoring the men.

The humor of the situation forced its way past Dalton’s ire.
And his smile turned into a laugh when Dom’s clock radio kicked back on and
Britney Spears sang out, “Baby, hit me one more time.” With a comment about
Satanic appliances, Dom carried Smokey with her to the bedroom to silence her
radio.

Dalton looked at Meyers and offered the morning equivalent
of the peace pipe. “Coffee?”

Without waiting for an answer, he headed into the kitchen.
Meyers followed, seating himself at the table while Dalton filled the coffee
machine. He sensed the agent taking note of his familiarity with Domino’s
kitchen.
Good.
The jerk needed to know the score. Despite Dalton’s
well-honed self-preservation instinct when it came to trusting women, he was
staking a claim. Dominique Petracelli was
his
.

Yawning, her hair still messed from sleep, Dalton’s woman
entered the kitchen. Grabbing a mug, she impatiently pulled the half-filled
carafe from the coffeemaker and stuck her cup directly under the fragrant
stream of coffee. When the cup was full, she replaced the carafe and rooted in
a cabinet for a dog biscuit to toss to Smokey. Dalton wondered if she was going
to get the orange juice from the fridge and drink straight from the carton. He
smiled. Apparently Domino wasn’t a morning person.

Dalton poured himself and grudgingly Meyers a cup of coffee.
Then he joined the agent at the table while Dom remained standing. After she
took several sips of coffee and moaned in appreciation—reminding him of their
more pleasurable nighttime activities—Domino spoke.

“I’m glad you’re both here,” she began. “There are
developments at the club you need to know. Salvi’s put surveillance cameras in
the loading bay and storage areas.”

“It figures,” Dalton said.

She swung her gaze to his, all business. “Yeah, I was
surprised there weren’t cameras there all along. But now our chances of
planting a tracking device are slim to none.”

“Maybe if the damn cops had kept their noses out of our
business—” Meyers said.

“Your business?” Dalton surged to his feet. “It was my
partner they killed.”

“Stop it!” Dom snapped. “It’s a joint investigation now.”

“If your partner had come to the DEA,” Meyers said, ignoring
Dom and rising out of his chair, “he wouldn’t be dead.”

Dalton drew back his fist, anticipating the crunch of
Meyers’ nose. But Domino gave them both a shove.

“
Damn it
,” she swore. “Why don’t you just whip out
your dicks and compare sizes so we can get back to the case?”

Dalton started to point out she was already quite familiar
with his appendage but after one glance at her face, kept the remark to
himself. Meyers glared at her and sat down again. After a moment, Dalton
lowered himself stiffly to his chair.

“Okay,” Dom continued her debriefing. “So our original plan
is pretty well shot, especially since Salvi and his buddies will probably lay
low for months after all of this attention.”

Dalton nodded. The club manager wasn’t the type to take
foolish chances. Knowing the club was under surveillance, Salvi wouldn’t be
accepting or shipping any drugs for a while.

“And I’m not looking forward to dominatrix duty until Salvi
gets his operation working again,” Dom added.