Safeword (15 page)

His skin paled, and he gripped my elbow. “Was there a note? Anything to explain why they left it?”

“No. I have no idea.” I grabbed the holster for my snub from the barbecue grill where I’d dumped it in my haste and pinched the bridge of my nose. A whopper of a headache was setting up residence behind my eyes, and before the day was out, I knew I’d be completely waylaid by it. Nausea gripped my insides, threatening to reintroduce me to my mother’s cooking.

“Sir,” one of the officers said to Ben. “Can we get your statement?” With a gentle squeeze to my arm, Ben stepped away with the officer. I took the opportunity to thumb the screen of my cell phone to life and make a call.

“Kittridge,” came the gruff answer.

“Sergeant, it’s DeGrassi. I’m sorry to bother you at home on a Sunday, but I need to know... has Damon Lane been released for any reason?”

“What the hell kind of question is that?” he asked. I heard shuffling in the background, and the noise of what could have been a TV went silent. “No, Lane hasn’t been released. I’d have been notified, and there’s no way he’d be up for parole this fast. What’s going on?”

“And nothing as outlandish as a prison break has hit your radar?”

He barked an incredulous laugh. “No, Gavin. Answer my question.”

“Someone broke into my house, sir. They don’t appear to have taken anything, but they left me a little present.” I explained the circumstances. When I was finished, there was a beat of silence before he replied.

“I’m assigning a surveillance detail to your house. You said CSI is on the way?”

“Yes. Lawanda dispatched them at the same time as patrol.”

“Have them cover the entire property, not just the house and door. Where were you today?”

“It’s Sunday, sir. I have a standing invite to brunch with my family at my parents’ house.”

“So someone either knew your routine well enough to know when to show up, or they saw you leave.”

A shudder rippled up my spine. “How would you know that? It’s a wealthy neighborhood, sir. Maybe we were just unlucky.”

“Wealthy would explain a robbery, Gavin. Not this. This is targeted. I’ve got a maniac loose on the streets killing cops and someone breaks into your house. Kind of a hinky coincidence.”

The blood in my veins slowed to ice, the full import of the situation finally hitting home.

“You think it was our guy?”

“Could be. We won’t know unless CSI finds something.” That something would have to be a specific kind of DNA, since that was all we had to go on at Halloran’s or Stevenson’s scenes. I refrained from saying so, however. The thought of some stranger in our house jerking off on our things was enough to send a shudder of disgust through my limbs. “I’ll send a team to sit outside your door, DeGrassi. Tell the evidence techs to call me when they’re done. It may not be connected to Stevenson and Halloran, but I’m not taking chances.” He cleared his throat. “Any way I could talk you and your partner into staying somewhere else tonight?”

I shook my head, though it wasn’t like Kittridge could see it through the phone. “Not really, sir. The one family member with enough space wouldn’t want us crashing his pad tonight. He and his new fiancée are probably a little busy at the moment.”

“What about your partner? Myah could probably put you up.”

“Um, she’s the fiancée.”

“Oh. Well. It would be wise to find a hotel then. Just for the evening. Give me the names of the responding officers, and I’ll have them canvass the neighborhood to see if anyone nearby saw anything unusual. It’s probably best if you’re nowhere near that house at the moment.”

“You think he’ll be back?”

“I’m not interested in finding out.”

“But, sir, we could catch him if he does return.” I couldn’t quite believe the words coming from my mouth.
I did
not
just offer myself as bait. No fucking way.

“I appreciate that, and maybe, with your consent, we can put an officer inside the house to turn lights on and off and move around, make it look like you’re home. But under no circumstances will I let you put yourself out there like that.” The sergeant paused, and when he spoke again, his tone was softer, yet surer. “Gavin, you’re one of my best. I know what you’ve been through, and while I had my doubts at first, you’ve proven to me you’re taking your recovery seriously and trying to balance it with your sense of duty. Which makes the line I will or will not ask you to cross all the more important.”

A lump in my throat wouldn’t let words through, so I didn’t bother trying, staring at the ground until the moment passed. Kittridge must have taken my silence as acquiescence.

“Call the Millennium Hotel downtown and tell the front desk to charge it to me. They have my information on file.”

“Sir, I can’t justify expensing a hotel that extravagant for this. The department budget—”

“Isn’t going to see a dime. This is my personal account. I don’t care about the expense if it keeps you out of harm’s way.”

“With all due respect, sir,” I bristled, understanding he meant it as a kindness but irritated by the implication I couldn’t afford it, or that I needed him to take care of me to that extent. “I will cover the room myself. I appreciate the offer, but it’s not necessary.”

“Good, then,” he relented. “As long as you’re not home for a voyeur to see if your reaction was what he wanted.”

Oh, well played, Kittridge.
My estimation of him rose a notch.
Challenge me to be able to pay my own way and watch me walk right into the palm of your hand.

“CSI’s arrived, sergeant. I will tell them to call you when they’re finished. Ben and I have an overnight bag to pack.”

The responding officers grumbled about their interrogation of us being cut short, but they knew better than to buck a sergeant’s orders. Instead of going over the situation the usual three times, we got by with once each. Cole’s techs got the gist of the situation and waved us off after making sure the items we took for our overnight stay didn’t interfere with any evidence collection.

As soon as we were in Ben’s car and on Highway 40 pointed toward downtown, I let out a sigh, closing my eyes and resting my head against the cool glass of the window.

“Okay over there?” Ben asked. He’d been remarkably quiet since the moment we discovered the door open, letting my colleagues handle everything until it was time to vacate. I had no idea what was going on in his head.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I don’t think it’s hit me yet that someone was in our house. Again. Jesus, Ben. When did I get such a fucking target painted on my back?”

His lips tightened when I looked over, his concentration on the road far more absolute than necessary. “Since your name hit the papers with such a sensational story to go with it. The crazies are attracted to you because they think you have something in common with them.”

“What? You counsel people every day about their mental problems. Why aren’t your crazies coming to get you?” Of course, I didn’t want that, but it stood to reason he’d be just as compelling a target as me.

“My crazies come to me in a controlled environment and seeking help. They want to get better. Yours are usually a lot more on the edge than mine, with no therapy in sight.”

“Isn’t there some code somewhere that shrinks aren’t allowed to call their patients crazy?” I asked, deflecting the uncomfortable idea that I’d become the cover model for
Insanity Monthly Magazine.

“Nah, they’re more like guidelines than actual rules.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at his use of one of my favorite movie lines. He reached across the console to grip my hand. “Stop trying to throw me off. Are you okay?”

I took a deep breath, squinting my eyes shut to block out the world. In the moving car, it only served to make me dizzy. Concentrating on the weave of our entwined fingers, I let down the walls holding at bay all the scary implications I’d been ignoring.

“I honestly don’t know. Someone was in our
house
again, Ben. They left me a fucking souvenir. Why a flogger? Obviously they know something about me, about our relationship.”

“Babe, everyone who can read and has access to newspaper archives knows the nature of our relationship, thanks to The Walking Mouth.”

“Oh god, if she gets wind of this, it’ll be a media mess all over again.”

He looked at me strangely. “Why would she get wind of it?”

I shrugged. “Someone at the station with a bill to pay and a dislike of the gay sub in their midst could decide they’ve kept quiet long enough.” That sounded paranoid even to me. “Ignore me. I have trust issues.”

He snorted as he guided the car off the highway toward the riverfront, smoothly navigating the confusing labyrinth of downtown streets until we pulled in front of the Millennium Hotel. After extracting our overnight bag from the trunk, he let valet handle the parking, taking me by the hand and pulling me into the posh lobby toward the front desk, oblivious to the looks we earned. A few minutes’ conversation with the desk clerk, and we had our access key for a room with a king bed toward the top of the tower looking out over the river and the Arch.

“I thought the view might be comforting. It’s been a big day, so maybe we can relax and do nothing but lie around in plush bathrobes and feed each other strawberries and champagne.”

I chuckled as the elevator doors whooshed shut. “You’ve been watching too much Pretty Woman, and I’m sorry, but there’s no way I’m the hooker in this arrangement.”

He laughed, giving my hand a squeeze. I studied his reflection in the mirror gloss of the elevator doors, suddenly noticing the tired set of his shoulders, the lines framing his mouth, the furrow between his brows. He was worried. His sanctuary had been violated again, and if I knew him at all, he’d be kicking himself for being lax enough for someone to get to me. The surreptitious glances, the uncommon public hand holding in order to keep me close…. It all added up to the expectation I’d need to lean on him, that I was going to break, and when I did, it would be spectacular.

I took a deep breath, giving myself an internal barometer check. Yes, I was scared. Yes, I was pissed at being thrown off my safety pedestal again. Yes, I wanted to look over my shoulder to see if sinister eyes were tracking my every move. But the jagged, shattering feeling I’d carried after Lane’s verdict, when the worry about one monster’s focus morphed into the potential of
any
monster fixating on me had been at its peak, was decisively missing. I could breathe. The walls stayed where they were supposed to instead of closing in. People were still just people going about their lives, not potential hostiles who would turn on me at any moment. I really was fine.

But with the look Ben carried, I knew he wasn’t convinced. So I’d just have to persuade him. I sidled closer, dropping my voice into a seductive growl.

“The corset worked. Even tiptoeing through the house with my gun at the ready, I felt you with me, holding me up.”

“Is that so?” he murmured, eyes trained on the numbers lighting overhead.

I hummed affirmatively. “It’s probably the only thing keeping me together right now. Reminding me how to be strong in the face of anything.”

“Anything, huh?”

Nuzzling into his cheek, I slipped my arms around his waist, breathing in the faded scent of his cologne. “Well, almost anything. You know my limits.”

“That I do,” he agreed magnanimously as the elevator arrived on our floor with a soft ping and the doors slid open. “Is this a not so subtle hint for me to test your limits, pet?”

The nickname caused warmth to bloom in my belly, and my dick tried to twitch to life despite the cock ring I’d all but forgotten about. I automatically began to heel behind him as he followed the signs to our room number.

“If it pleases you, Sir.”

The door to our room swung open when he released the lock with the key card, and the floor to ceiling windows showcased the riverfront and one gleaming arm of the Arch limned with sunset light. Across the water, lights from the Illinois side casino stood against the darkening sky. The interior of the room, oddly shaped due to the circular structure of the building, was well appointed though on the small side, with just a bed, a desk, and a single chair marking a sitting area near the window. Modern without being stark, it was an inviting room. Ben immediately went to the thermostat and cranked up the temperature.

“What would please me most is for you to remove your clothes and hang them neatly in the closet.”

My hands immediately went to my shirt buttons as my nerves fired all at once in anticipation of what was to come. “The corset, Sir?”

“Leave it. You shouldn’t remove it without my help anyway.”

Clothes put away, I knelt at his feet while he rummaged in our bag. My curiosity peaked when he extracted two thick, round pillar candles, placing them on the glass shelf beside the bed and lighting them with matches from one of those thin paper books. He then turned off all the lights except that of the bathroom, leaving the door open only enough to allow a crack of illumination through. The pinks and oranges of the sunset bordered everything outside, though not much of the light bounced back into our east-facing window. Ben left the curtains open, not concerned anyone could see in, as high up as we were with no buildings to block the view. Frankly, he had a bit of an exhibition kink, and had there been a building near enough for someone to peer in, I’m not sure he’d have drawn the curtains anyway.

A rush of excitement at the thought surged to my groin, straining against the binding ring encircling my shaft. Ben, still fully dressed, set the bag aside and turned to me. He caressed my cheek as he stared down at me, face inscrutable.

“Today’s been rough on you,” he murmured. I nodded agreement, pressing my lips to the base of his thumb. “I’m not sure how much you can handle. Remember your safe words?”

The question was like ice on my bare skin. When was he going to trust me not to break? My hard-won erection flagged, and I gazed up at him, flinty eyed. With every heave of my chest, as I reigned in my temper, the corset snugged against me, only it constricted instead of bolstered. In an instant, I knew what I needed. I said nothing, a defiant jut to my jaw.