Grace (6 page)

"You're too kind, Larry. Busy court day today?"

She tried to take the attention away from her cheeks by turning toward the door opening behind them. Grace held her position against the wall as the courtroom full of people cleared out, and Jerry practically wedged his body against hers.

Instantly, his hand went against her waist and she couldn't help the warmth she felt. Their gazes locked, and he moved a little too close to her lips.

The nerve of this guy thinking he could have any woman he wanted, any time, anywhere.

When he took advantage of the situation, it annoyed her. Grace abruptly turned her head before his lips made contact with hers.

She glanced around, hoping no one saw the scene unfold and thankfully realized no one seemed aware of either of them.

"I must get going, Larry. I have a busy day ahead of me.” She wanted to escape with the last few people who filled the courtroom doorway.

"We should get together sometime, Grace. I would really like that. Maybe lunch?"

Even though she was sure he eyed her like a piece of dessert, the darkness of his eyes hid his intentions. She caught herself staring too deeply, which obviously gave Larry the wrong impression.

Fumbling over her words, Grace tried to remember what part of the conversation they were at. Larry smiled like he was fully aware of his control over the present situation.

"Oh, I'm kind of crazy-busy these days. I never plan such things because something always seems to mess up my plans."

"Being a detective in a big city can do that. Are you working on anything interesting?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, I am. I really need to get a move on it. It was good seeing you."

"I'll have my secretary call your office to set up a lunch date."

Grace cringed. This guy was relentless. She smiled, then practically ran toward the stairs. She felt him staring at her, watching her make her escape and even though she couldn't see his gaze, she could sense him undressing her. He frazzled her and it annoyed her to no end as she looked back, glad he went the other way.

Glancing at her watch, she knew she had little time to get downtown when she walked right into a brick wall.

Well, at least it felt like a brick wall, but it was a hell of a lot better looking.

If the tall, solid stranger hadn't wrapped his arms around her waist, she would have fallen backward and smashed her head on the marble floor. He continued to hold her and their eyes locked, neither saying a word for an awkward moment.

He was gorgeous, rugged, and in need of a shave. Sexy as hell. With his blue eyes sparkling, he pulled her closer, then next to the wall and out of the way of other people passing by. Grace attempted to regain her composure.

"I'm so sorry,” she apologized and he stayed silent.

Grace pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, wondering when the guy would let go of her, although she didn't want him to.

Once again, she was practically pinned against the courthouse walls, but this time she didn't mind.

"You can let go of me now."

"Where's the fire?” he asked as he reluctantly released her.

When she felt the gun on the man's hip, Grace was suddenly brought back to reality, and a deep sense of disappointment engulfed her.

Just what she didn't want, another cop in her life, just one more Jimmy she didn't need.

"It's okay, miss. I'm a cop."

"I figured as much. The badge kind of gives that away.” Grace eyed the brass medal attached to his belt buckle.

The man looked down, then back to Grace, smiling. “That would give it away, wouldn't it?"

They laughed.

"Well, again, I'm sorry I plowed into you. Thanks for holding me.... I mean preventing me from falling,” Grace quickly corrected herself.

"Anytime, miss...."

Grace was about to introduce herself when they were interrupted.

"Hey, Grace, are you all right? I saw Sullivan corner you back there, but I couldn't get to you in time. I didn't know you two knew one another.” District Attorney Johnny Lewis spoke in one quick long sentence, so as not to waste time. He was always in such a rush.

"We don't,” both Grace and the man said at the same time.

They laughed, then smiled.

"The name's Max Mathews.” Max held out his hand to Grace.

She was in shock. What were the odds of actually bumping into the detective running the case she was working on? The one who had been avoiding her and giving her the runaround?

A sly smile found its way to her lips, but she waited a moment to reveal her identity.

"Not the notorious Detective Max Mathews?” Grace laid her hand over her heart pretending she was about to bombard him with compliments and words of honor and praise.

Max looked at the DA, appearing unsure of what was coming next. “It's Lieutenant and you are..."

"Detective Grace Martin.” She then crossed her arms in front of her chest, refusing to shake the jerk's hand. She was even angrier at the fact she was attracted to the guy.

Her words seemed to click with the detective as he rolled his eyes, then broke eye contact.

"I take it you two are working on the same case?” Johnny tried to break the tension.

"He wouldn't know because he's been avoiding me. Very unprofessional.” Grace began to ask Max why he hadn't returned any of her calls and suddenly all his answers were sexist.

"If I knew you had legs like that, I would have called.” He gave her the once-over.

"If you want to play this game, Lieutenant, then it goes both ways. You don't share your information, then I won't share mine.

"You have my number,” Grace stated angrily, then turned toward Johnny.

"Thanks for your concern, Johnny, but I was able to handle Sullivan. Call me if you need anything else with the case.” Grace smiled and walked away.

"So ... that didn't go too well, did it?” Johnny stifled a laugh at Max's facial expression.

"I thought detectives were supposed to be so suave with the ladies."

"Cool it, Johnny, it's no big deal. What's going on?” Max only half paid attention to the conversation, his mind still on Grace Martin.

When Max finished talking to Johnny, he headed out of the courthouse. His mind immediately went over the encounter with Detective Grace Martin.

When the gorgeous green-eyed goddess slammed into him, he thought she was a gift from God for all his hard work. A woman like that would be a definite distraction from the job and his heavy caseload. He exhaled as he walked faster toward the parking lot, absorbing the chill in the air and gazing at the leaves descending from some nearby trees. He thought Grace was an attorney and he hoped she was a prosecutor. He would love a piece of that action. Then he remembered his stupid comment when he noticed Grace's uneasiness at the sight of his firearm.

"Don't worry, miss. I'm a cop."

"Damn it! That sounded goofy."

The green eyes had done something to his tongue and his brain. He lost all coolness, all his macho how-to-get-the-girl routine that usually came so natural to him. His instincts were always on target.

Max was annoyed as hell. The woman took his breath away and made certain body parts stand at attention. She said something about him avoiding her and that he had her number. What the hell had she been talking about? He wasn't avoiding her.

He only received one message from her. He shook his head in confusion as he entered his car. He didn't have time for this crap. He had a case to solve.

He started the ignition and headed to the precinct, trying his hardest to get Grace Martin out of his mind. It didn't help matters one bit that remnants of her perfume lingered on his dress shirt.

Instantly, the thoughts of her voluptuous body wedged up against his chest filled his mind. He couldn't help but smile. She was the best-looking homicide detective he ever laid eyes on.

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His palm was against the back of Celina's neck while he directed her down the hallway. She felt him scanning her backside.

The decision was made to obey her captor and do as he wished. He let her shower, gave her a clean dress and a meal, although she couldn't help but wonder if it were poisoned or perhaps her last, but she was starving.

Her hands were red and swollen from the cool temperatures, and she rubbed them together in an effort to warm them.

The rooms and hallways were stone, and each footstep echoed as they made their way toward another room.

The corridor was short and narrow. The ground looked like some kind of dirt-covered paving stones, though she felt like she was in an old basement and the stone walls and flooring were faux.

She had no idea where she was, but as they walked, she could have sworn she heard crying. Celina was shocked to find out she wasn't his only prisoner. She looked in the direction the sound came from.

"Keep moving and don't make a sound,” he told her and she did as he said.

When they reached the end of the corridor, there was another door with a twelve-foot by twelve-foot square area containing metal bars. This was what he meant by better arrangements?

The door opened wider.

Her captor pushed her inside the sheet-rocked room. Numerous torture devices covered the walls and the floor.

Instantly, she knew she was in trouble.

The long hot shower, special fig oil fragrance body wash and clean clothes were not for her comfort. Instead, they were meant to purify her, make her presentable and to conform to his high standards and demands in preparation for the acts he was about to perform.

How stupid she was to believe otherwise.

Her captor smiled through his black leather mask, and his eyes sparkled. He too smelled of the expensive, fragrant oil. He closed the door behind him, then reached to the sidewall.

His choice was made as he carefully removed the object and gripped it tightly.

"Please don't hurt me. Please ... you promised,” she pleaded.

He ignored those pleas as he swung the sharp leather whip to either side of her.

The sharp sound sent her whole body into a panicked state. She shook, crying, pleading for help.

He laughed while he walked in a circle around her, just barely missing her skin with each strike of the sharp black whip.

Celina curled herself into the fetal position on the floor, covering her head with her arms.

"I've had a long, stressful day at the office and I need to relieve some tension."

The whip snapped, this time piercing the skin on Celina's leg. She screamed out in pain.

He continued to toy with her, fulfilling the fantasy he thought about most of the day at work.

He craved that control, that immense feeling of triumph and power over everyone and everything around him. His workday had lacked that immensely. Although he had no intention of causing much injury to the slave before him, he was enormously satisfied in just knowing the control he had. The bonus of intense fear in Celina's eyes was satisfying those urges and his hunger.

The room filled with that control. It fed him, absorbed through every pore of his skin, through the blood in his every vein. He was the high and mighty, the leader, the most powerful ... the Master.

The whip continued to snap against the concrete, and his words of anger penetrated the helpless body of his victim. The sharp snap echoed and bounced against the walls of his secret lair.

Down the hallway, a woman cried, covered her ears, and shook in fear.

Celina prayed for her life and her prayers were answered.

Grace finished her lunch meeting with Jerry and the Marquettes. To her, the boyfriend sounded nervous and he acted as if he were withholding information, wouldn't speak in front of Celina's parents.

He was adamant about helping the police. She wondered if it were his little drug problem. Her instincts were right and as she tried to open her car door, Jerry emerged out of nowhere.

"Miss Martin, can I please have a minute?” he asked and Grace glanced around to see if anyone was nearby in case the kid was up to something.

She held her car key between her fingers, then made a fist at her side. It was an old self-defense trick, but it would do a number if necessary.

"It's Detective Martin. What is it, Jerry?"

"I-I don't feel comfortable with the detectives working the case. They already think that Celina was fooling around. One of the cops suggested prostitution."

"Jerry, I told you this before, the police have to investigate every aspect of this case. She was last seen leaving work, not outside her apartment as first reported. That means she could have gone anywhere in the three hours in between. There are a lot of questions."

"I know where she went."

Grace watched him closely. She wondered if he were about to admit to murder.

"What are you talking about? You said you hadn't seen her since the night before."

"I lied."

"Why would you do that?"

"It's not what you think. I have a drug problem. I'm trying to quit, really."

"I already know about your little problem. What does this have to do with Celina?"

Jerry lowered his head. “She went uptown to buy me some drugs. She should have been by my place at 10:00 p.m., but she never came. I checked out her place and she wasn't there. I saw the blood and the broken mirrors. I panicked and called the police. I didn't want to tell them where she went. It's my fault."

"Why did you lie to the police? They could be trying to find out where she was last seen and with whom. Why would you let her do this?"

"She owed me."

"What the hell do you mean by ‘she owed you?’”

"She was cheating on me with some big shot, rich guy. She met him at one of her parents’ parties, and he seduced her. She said he was into some kinky stuff, tried to tie her up, and she wouldn't let him."

"Who was the guy?"

Grace watched as Jerry bowed his head again and the tears rolled down his cheeks. She couldn't help but wonder if he were lying.