Slave to Love (27 page)

She couldn't be completely certain, but—
Oh, God
. She had to tell Mick!

She buried her nose in the crook of his neck. “It's Rick!” she whispered urgently. “He's Smythe!”

Mick pulled away and shook his head questioningly. “Can't hear you,” he yelled over the music. “Come on, let's go to the seraglio. It's quieter there.”

He led her past the cages, where today a woman in her underwear was being fondled by three men from outside the bars. Her expression was blissful. The wall was full, too—at the moment only men were shackled to it, facing both forward and backward, all in various states of undress. Caro slowed to admire the scenery.

Mick tugged at her leash. “Interested in any of them?”

She slid her tongue over her bottom lip, savoring the testy tone of jealousy. She liked that he was jealous. It excited her, confirmed the power she held over him, even in her subservient role.

“Maybe.” She thought about baiting Smythe and glanced back at the men shackled to the wall. “Would you let one of them watch you fuck me?”

Mick's eyes flared briefly in surprise. She held his gaze, trying her damnedest to silently communicate her fears. Why hadn't they put a vibrator in him, too?

“Let
me
watch instead,” said Rick, right behind them.

Heart thundering like Niagara Falls, she whirled to contemplate the man who was probably a vicious, remorseless killer.

“Sorry,” she said.
Shouldn’t appear too anxious
. She recalled the color of his hair in the prison photo. “Sir prefers blonds. Even his men.”

Mick's lips parted slightly, then pressed together. The vibrator buzzed on-off, on-off, on-off, like a bee hitting a window again and again.

She smiled tremulously, locking her thighs together. “Don't you, Sir?”

“What I prefer is obedience.
I'll
decide who watches and who doesn't.”

Rick smirked, his eyes devouring her flesh like a ravenous animal, then to her shock, treated Mick to the same, lingering on his by now sweat-slick abs.
Damn
. Her skin crawled just thinking about the man watching them make love. And felt a huge spurt of nausea at a mental image of the eviscerated victim she'd seen front-on, transposed with Mick's face.

“Sorry,” she whispered, and hugged his body close, unable to shake the horrid, bloody vision. She trembled, and he gazed down at her searchingly. But Rick was watching them closely, so she couldn't say what she wanted to shout in his ear. Instead, she kissed him and pulled herself together.

She couldn't protect him by being a wuss.

***

What the hell was going on with Caro, Mick wondered as they made their way toward the seraglio. She looked like she was going to faint any second, or puke—though she was hiding it well. But he knew her intimately enough, the precise tone of her skin, the relaxed slope of her shoulders, to know when she was about to lose it.

What had spooked her so badly? He'd never seen her like this. Except maybe at the crime scenes.

He scanned the room, searching for something that could have set her off. Nothing, except Rick following behind like a faithful hound dog. He knew she didn't like the man—hell,
he
didn't like the man—but such a drastic change from last night? No, it must be something else.

They slipped through the thick velvet curtain into the room beyond. Exotic music tinkled softly, a welcome relief from the strident metal beat that blasted through the main club area. As always, it was nearly dark, only the lighted stage shedding a pale glow over the room. Tonight, the cool fog that swirled around guests seated at low tables smelled of oranges.

Slowly, the three of them passed through more doors, sinking deeper and deeper into the dark warren of sinful dens, each with its own peculiar brand of entertainment. Mick was looking for Jakob Robbins, the blood-letter.

He felt a feminine hand slither up his leg. “Is that you under that ridiculous hood, sugar snap?”

Fuck.

This was exactly what he did
not
need tonight.

“How's it going, Lauren?”

Not that he hadn’t been expecting her to show up. Her relentless phone calls had told him she was bent on renewing their acquaintanceship, he suspected on a quite different level than before. He shook his head at her and kept moving. Or tried to. Like a talon, her grasp tightened on the leather of his pants.

“Hang on. There's someone I'd like you to meet.”

He stole a glance at Caro before turning back to Lauren. Caro’s smile was sharp enough to cut a man to ribbons.
Double fuck
.

“Yeah?” he asked Lauren, and started lazily winding Caro's leash around his palm, so she was forced to move closer to him. She fought him all the way.

“This is Rebecca,” Lauren said, indicating a woman lounging next to her. They were both wearing nothing but... white silk teddies.

“What the hell are you playing at?” Mick growled, ignoring the introduction. “This is sick and dangerous, Lauren. You should know better than to play with fire.”

He hauled Caro close so she was standing right in front of him. She leaned back against his chest and the tall spike of her heel ground into his boot toe like a sharp nail.

“I, on the other hand, love your teddies,” she purred. “Wherever did you get them?”

What the— He pushed the vibrator control twice, then twice again for good measure.
No, no, no
. This was not a topic to be discussed.

“At Robinson's,” Lauren answered with a sly smile. “Caro, isn't it? You don't think they're too over the top, Caro?”

“Oh, no,” she cooed. “I've been thinking of getting one myself. What fun!” Caro turned at his continued buzzing and leveled him a challenging look. “What is it,
sweet pea
? Not man enough for that particular fantasy?” Her gaze landed on Rick, who was following the whole exchange as though mesmerized. “Or maybe I need to find myself a new Master. One who's not so—”

Mick grabbed her shoulders and shook her once. “You find a new Master you won't need a white teddie,” he spat out. “I'll kill you myself. You're
mine
. Got that?”

Wide-eyed shock stared back at him for a brief second. It vanished, but her arms quivered lightly under his hands. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

His stomach clenched.

Damn, damn, damn it to hell.

It was starting.

Despite his best efforts and vigilant inner warnings, he'd fallen for her. Gotten himself emotionally involved. And now it was all starting, just as he'd known so well it would.

The irrational jealousy. The violent urges. The blinding fear.

Everyone was staring at him. At them. He couldn't back down from the role now.

He relaxed his grip. Smiled forgivingly. “That's better. There'll be no more talk of leaving. Right?” Just in case, he buzzed her once.

She started badly. Then replied, “Yes, Sir.”

“You don't really want to leave me, do you?” When she didn’t answer immediately he buzzed her twice.

“No, Sir,” she responded.

Still, he hadn't heard enough. “You'll always do exactly as I say. And never betray me.”

This time she answered on her own. “No, I'll never betray you.”

He pulled her close. “Because you love me,” he insisted.

She swallowed heavily. “Yes.”

She was still resisting. He could feel it in her tight muscles, in the way she fought his hold on her.

“Say it, baby. Say you love me.”

He knew he was being a class-A bastard. This wasn’t part of their script. There was no reason to force her to say the words he longed to hear spill from her mouth of their own accord. No reason at all. Except his neurotic, perverse need to know she was his. Beyond wisdom, beyond logic, beyond any sense. His and his alone.

The muted stage-lights swam in her eyes, small points in a sea of shiny desperation.

“I love you,” she said, and put her forehead to his shoulder, as though she could no longer bear to look at him.

“My, my. Isn't this touching,” Lauren muttered with a dose of disgust in her tone. “Well, sugar snap,” she said, casting a look around, spotting Rick standing close by, “if you’re done with your revolting display, maybe you'll introduce Rebecca and me to your friend?”

Caro wrenched from his arms. “No!” Her gaze arrowed to Mick’s. “I mean...he’s with us, isn’t he, Sir?”

The almost frantic look in her eyes was like nothing he had seen before. Jealously crawled through Mick’s veins like fire ants, injecting its venom so he could barely see straight.

He ignored her plea. “Sure,” he said. “Lauren, Rebecca, this is Rick. He works security here at the club.”

With that, he grabbed Caro’s leash and left them, quickly stalking his way back through the labyrinth of rooms, tugging her along in his wake. She yanked on the tether and called his name a few times, but he refused to turn.

He couldn’t face her now. He had to separate himself from her presence, get his perspective back. Calm down.

This was
not
the time to lose it. Which he was, big-time.

When they emerged into the main club, he took a deep, cleansing breath and hailed a mini-skirted wait-slave. After a few words, she led them to the room’s dominatrix. It was the same woman as yesterday, tonight dressed in scarlet latex and thigh-high, spike-heeled boots, complete with ornate whip.

“I’ll need a cage for this one,” he simply said, indicating Caro and showing the dominatrix his member card fished from a pocket.

The dominatrix’ lips curved up. Caro’s jaw fell.

“No!” she cried against the din of the metal music. “Mick, you have to listen to m—”

“Silence, slave!” he ordered. A little space would do them both good. The cage might not be comfortable, but she’d be safe in full view of the whole club, and Cody was sitting right at the bar. She’d just have to deal with it.

“Certainly, Master Michael,” the dominatrix said, reading his name from the card. She led the way to a cage that was just being emptied of its captive.

“Mick!” Caro hissed, and he silenced her with a bruising kiss.

“Get names,” he said into her mouth, “Everybody who approaches you. I’m going to find Jakob Robbins.”

He easily lifted her into the cage, despite her kicking and yelling. The dominatrix locked the door and handed him the oversized, gilt skeleton key.

He gave her a twenty. “See that nobody lets her out of the cage but me.
Nobody
.” He eyed Caro’s outraged face. “No matter how much she begs.”

“I understand,” the dominatrix said with a malicious smile. “You can rely on me, Master Michael.”

He took a last look at Caro, standing splay-legged in the narrow cage, hands fisted around the black iron bars, shaking them like a prisoner slated for execution.

“Let me out, Mick!” she yelled. “You’re making a mistake!”

Frankly, he’d expected more rage. Maybe something about cutting his balls off, or such. That would be more like Caro. As it was, she seemed less angry than...afraid. Which vaguely surprised him. But it didn’t change his mind.

He turned on a heel and headed back to the seraglio. He’d find Robbins, cool down, then come back for her.

Even without the need to get away from the emotions she aroused in him, he realized this was a good strategy. They’d made their presence known in the club; now it was just a matter of being available to the killer.

So he could approach them. Maybe he felt more comfortable one-on-one.
Or she
, Caro would remind him.