Needing Harte (1-800-DOM-Help) (2 page)

“Please, stay seated. I’ll call Ramey in and excuse myself while you talk to him.” With that, Winters picked up the phone and spoke quietly to whoever answered. The three of them sat in somewhat strained silence until a knock sounded on the door. When Winters got to his feet, McKinley and Harte did too.

Harte took a deep breath as the smoking hot dancer who’d captured his attention earlier walked into the room. He hesitated briefly, then came in and shut the door behind himself.

The guy wore a plain white t-shirt and jeans, and Harte wanted to yank him close and kiss him senseless. When he noticed Ramey’s bare feet, he nearly took a step forward. Shit, the guy even had sexy feet!

“Ramey, these Detectives McKinley and Donovan have a few questions to ask you. I’m telling you that you need to answer their questions. Do you understand?”

Harte pulled his attention from Ramey to Jason Winters for just a moment. The emphasis the man put on his statement rang oddly to him. Why would an employer use that tone with an employee? Ramey’s quiet answer drew his attention back to the other man.

“Yes Sir.” The guy even dropped his eyes as he answered. Harte stared at him, but the other man never raised his gaze. Winters moved around his desk and Ramey opened the door for him but kept his gaze on the floor.

“Ramey, just answer their questions. I’m counting on your honesty. I’ll be right outside if you need me.” He squeezed Ramey’s shoulder and left the room, closing the door behind him. Ramey raised his gaze briefly, looked at McKinley and then at Harte. Harte felt his heart start to race as he caught that hazel gaze. The man was totally fucking gorgeous. Damn it.

Now was so not the time to think about sex.

“You have questions for me?” His voice had a low tone that hit a chord deep inside Harte.

He wanted to reassure the other man, to make him feel comfortable.

“Why don’t you sit down, Mr. Nichols?” McKinley indicated one of the two straight-backed chairs.

Harte saw the hesitation before Ramey pushed away from the door and moved quietly toward them. He met McKinley’s gaze then glanced at Harte again. Harte saw him take a deep breath, his luscious lips parting slightly before he swallowed hard and slipped into the chair McKinley indicated. Ramey sat with his hands on his knees, and Harte saw him clench his fingers just for a moment before he relaxed his hands.

“Mr. Nichols—”

“Ramey, please.”

“Ramey, then. I’m Detective Jeff McKinley and this is Detective Harte Donovan.”

Jeff’s voice kept going but Harte had to sit down. His cock was doing its damn level best to burst right through the front of his pants just from watching Ramey and listening to his voice. Ramey’s gaze flickered to him before moving back to the desk. He wasn’t looking directly at either McKinley or Harte, and Harte wanted his attention.

McKinley cleared his throat and spoke again. As he told Ramey why they were there, Harte saw the other man wipe his eyes though he never raised his head. He’d never seen anyone so contained—other than his own father who rarely showed any emotion. Ramey didn’t raise his eyes from the desk until Harte asked him about his relationship with their victim. Ramey met Harte’s eyes and he saw the pain there, knowing the two men had been more than roommates just from that glance.

“Mac, why don’t you take a few minutes and talk to Mr. Winters again. I’ll finish up with Mr.

Nichols.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to him, then meet you in the car.” Obviously uncomfortable with Ramey’s grief, McKinley left the room.

Harte waited until the door shut behind his partner, then got slowly to his feet. He handed Ramey some tissues from a box on the desk. Harte had regained control over his body, at least he hoped so. Leaning against the desk, Harte casually crossed his arms over his chest.

He wanted to see Ramey’s eyes. Needed to see his eyes to make sure the other man told him the truth.

“Ramey.” Intentionally making his tone somewhat harsh, Harte wasn’t at all surprised when Ramey’s wide eyes met his. He could see the man’s heartbeat throbbing wildly in his neck, but it was the look in those hazel eyes that nearly caused him to choke. Sheer desire flooded the other man’s face, whether at the tone of his voice or at Harte himself, he didn’t know.

“Keep your eyes on me. I need to see your eyes. Were you and Kevin Ramos lovers?”

“No sir.” The whisper reached him quite clearly. “We were friends, we shared…” Ramey swallowed hard. “We shared some common interests, went to the same clubs. We made out a couple of times when we first met, but we weren’t lovers. We tended to like the same kind of guy, if you know what I mean.”

Harte clamped down hard on the swift physical reaction he had to the comment. He chose to ignore the unasked question about his own sexuality. “Do you know who might have wanted to kill him?”

Ramey’s eyes filled with tears the way they had when he and McKinley had first told him of the other man’s death. “No sir. His…how much do you know about Kevin?”

“We’re trying to find out more about Kevin. Just finish what you started to say, Ramey.”

“Kevin and Carl, that’s Carl Davis, just had a collaring…I…I mean commitment ceremony two days ago. They were ready to spend their lives together. They were great together. I’ve never seen Kevin so happy. Shit. I just had coffee with him the day of the ceremony.”

“Collaring ceremony?”

“Commitment, I meant commitment.”

“I think you said exactly what you meant.” Leaning forward, Harte brought their faces closer together. “What’s a collaring ceremony, Ramey?”

“Kevin is like me, he’s submissive. Carl collared him, became his Master.”

“Wait, you’re talking sexual submissive?” Harte knew the term. He’d never actually met someone who lived it though. One of his exes had liked to be spanked and he’d enjoyed watching the other man’s ass turn red under his hands. His blood rose again at the thought of Ramey’s tight, round ass under his palm.

“Yes. Carl is Kevin’s Master.”

“Do you think Carl could have killed Kevin?”

“No!” Ramey’s entire body stiffened. “Carl would never hurt Kevin.”

“Isn’t that what being a submissive means?”

“No, not at all. You know that.” Ramey’s voice rose for the first time in the interview. His hazel eyes were wide and stunned as if Harte had betrayed some code.

“What?”

“You’re a Dom, you know what it means.”

Harte froze again. “What are you talking about? I’m not a…what did you call me?”

“Dom. Dominant. You…you mean you aren’t? But I thought…” Ramey swallowed hard again and broke their eye contact. “I’m sorry, I honestly thought…did you need anything else from me?”

“I need your contact information, Ramey. Just in case we have any other questions for you.” Harte leaned back, writing Ramey’s full name, address and phone number in his ever-present notebook. As he tucked the notebook away, he watched the other man, mulling over what he’d just revealed. He rubbed one hand over his face then rubbed the back of his neck.

Ramey Nichols was a sexual submissive and he thought Harte was a Dominant.

Harte had heard about that, of course, but never really considered it. Sure, he liked being in control, but that didn’t mean he wanted to beat his lovers up! Isn’t that what being a domin-ant meant? Beating up your lovers?

“Detective? Please believe me, Carl would never have killed Kevin. Kevin had some pretty hard limits when it came to pain, and Carl was a good Master. He’d never go past those limits. Besides, they really love one another.”

Something in the other man’s voice caused Harte to stop for a moment. There was a yearning, almost a plaintive quality to it. He met Ramey’s gaze, staring hard at those hazel depths. “I believe you, Ramey.”

Unable to stop himself, and not sure he would have even if he could have, Harte closed the distance between them again. He gripped the back of Ramey’s head, just as he’d wanted to earlier, pulling the other man close and kissing him. Ramey smelled like soap, as though he’d showered after leaving the stage, and tasted like the sweetest sin. His lips were soft, his skin warm, and Harte wanted more and more. Ramey made a soft sound in the back of his throat and opened to the pressure of Harte’s lips.

Delving into Ramey’s mouth with his tongue, Harte tasted the other man, drinking in his sweetness. He pulled Ramey out of the chair and against his body, wrapping his free arm around Ramey’s waist. Ramey didn’t resist and his hands landed tentatively on Harte’s bi-ceps. Even knowing that he was potentially screwing up the case by kissing Ramey, Harte wanted more…in a way he’d never wanted anyone else.

Ramey couldn’t breathe. The hot cop, the one he’d seen as soon as he’d hit the end of the stage, had his tongue in Ramey’s mouth and his hand on Ramey’s ass. He wanted to drown in this man, wanted to go down on his knees and suck his cock, wanted to be on his knees with Harte Donovan’s cock buried in his ass. He could feel the other man’s dick rubbing against his. Ramey’s had hardened as soon as Harte pulled him to his feet.

Harte’s blond hair had gleamed nearly white against his tanned skin, and those gray-blue eyes had seemed to bore right into Ramey’s soul when he’d entered the office. The fact that the man had been there to tell him that a good friend had been killed hadn’t lessened his appeal. He’d felt the Dominant vibe coming hard and heavy off this man and despite the fact that he’d never really trusted cops, he wanted to trust this one.

He nearly whimpered in frustration when Harte tore his mouth away. His lips felt bruised and swollen and he wanted more. Harte stared at Ramey. Just as he leaned forward to, please God, kiss him again, a knock sounded on the door. Harte released him as though he was on fire, pushing back so that Ramey stumbled a little trying to gain his footing.

Harte’s kiss had totally rocked his world, mastered him in the way he’d always wanted to be mastered. Breathing hard, Ramey stood with his back to the door, staring at the cop’s feet.

“Detective? Are you through with Ramey? It’s nearly time for him to be back onstage.”

Jason’s voice reached him and Ramey dared a glance up at Harte. With one hand rubbing across his chin, Harte nodded.

“Yes, we’re done here. Thank you for the use of your office. Ramey, I’ll be in touch if we have any other questions.” He heard the shaky quality in Harte’s voice and was glad to know he wasn’t the only one quaking.

“Yes sir. May I be excused?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Jason’s answer trumped Harte’s, no matter how much Ramey would prefer things to be the other way around. With another glance toward him, one Ramey caught out of the corner of his eye, Harte nodded and left the room. Ramey heard Jason approach but kept his eyes down.

“Ramey, are you all right?”

“I can’t believe Kevin’s dead.” Hoping Jason would attribute his shaking to his friend’s death and not the cop’s devastating kiss, Ramey shuffled around slightly, rearranging his raging erection and praying his jeans were loose enough to hide it.

“Though I’m totally shocked by Kevin’s death, that’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. Now,” Jason’s hand cupped Ramey’s chin, raising the other man’s face until he stared into those icy eyes. “Truth. Are you all right?”

“Yes Sir.” Ramey infused all the feeling he could into those two words. Words he’d said to Jason on more than one occasion until Jason had collared his own sub six months ago. The Doms in his life were committing left and right, though none wanted him on a permanent basis. Ramey suppressed the hurt, but knew he hadn’t been quick enough when Jason pulled him in for a hug.

“Ramey, what am I going to do with you?”

“Nothing, Sir, I’ll be okay. But thank you. May I be excused?”

“Go, Ramey. But this isn’t over. I will find out about you and the detective.”

“There’s nothing to find out. He was just carried away, it didn’t mean anything.”

Jason swatted him hard on the ass as he moved past. “Don’t lie to a Master, Ramey.

There’s something there. Something more than just the cop getting carried away.”

Ramey left the office, praying Jason would leave it alone and knowing he wouldn’t. Still, there really wasn’t anything with the cop…and now he was just fooling himself. There had definitely been something there. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Something he hoped to have a chance to explore…and soon.

Harte cursed thoroughly and vividly as he stalked to the car. Years of control blown on one sexy, muscled body. If McKinley had walked in… Harte shook his head in disgust.

“Did you blow the interview?”

His head snapped up at the words while his feet tried to walk on top of one another.

Neatly catching himself on the top of the car, Harte growled at his partner.

“No. But he didn’t do it and doesn’t have a useful thing to tell us. So it was a fucking dead end. How about yours? Anything?”

Pleased with himself for not answering “No, but I wanted to”, Harte listened to McKinley’s run-down. Both of them had come up empty-handed. He was curious to learn that Winters had outed himself as a Dominant though. Apparently running a strip joint that catered to gay men wasn’t alternative enough.

“Wait.”

The blond owner called out just as they were getting in their car. “Detective, I would appreciate it if you would call me tomorrow. I might have someone else for you to talk to.”

Harte took the card Winters handed him and nodded. “I’ll call you at eight.”

“Dear God. Make it ten, please. I do run a nightclub, for Christ’s sake.” Winters grinned and spoke to him as an equal, showing none of the normal deference most gay men showed cops, even those not in uniform.

“Okay. Ten but we’ll meet at Java Court.” Harte named a coffeehouse near the station. No reason he couldn’t at least get a decent cup of coffee while this man wasted his time. Winters nodded and stepped back from the car, heading back toward Pulse.

McKinley speared him with an over-the-glasses look but Harte shrugged him off. “Maybe he really does have something.”

“Yeah, and maybe he’s just into cops.”

Jeff couldn’t know. Harte glared at him then threw the car in reverse. “Well he’ll be one sad fucker then, because he’s not my type.”