Submissive by Moonlight (7 page)

The phone had rung several times, and she’d let it go straight to voice mail. She hadn’t bothered to listen to the messages or even checked the missed call log. Her phone didn’t usually ring much at all, so she was pretty sure that at least some of the calls were Nolan. She didn’t want to know. He’d left a hole in her heart that she didn’t want to probe. How could she be happy with someone who thought she was making up stories—or worse, crazy? If she could have been angry with him, it would have been easier, but he saw the world differently, and she firmly believed in letting other people travel their own religious or non-religious path.

And mine, I walk alone.

There had been times she put on makeup to go into town, but she didn’t care to admit to herself she cared what other people saw in her. She usually avoided the mirror entirely. Her eyes probably looked like a raccoon’s given the sleep she hadn’t had, but oh well. She tossed on a light jacket over an anime tee, struggled into faded blue jeans that must have shrunk their last time through the wash, and got in her beat-up green Honda to head to the grocery store.

Her first instinct when she saw Nolan looking at tomatoes was to flee. But she needed groceries, and she’d been running from his phone calls already. He hadn’t seen her, but it wasn’t a large store, and judging from the emptiness of his cart, he’d just started shopping. They’d encounter each other eventually. She straightened her back and strode forward, pushing her cart right past him. “Morning!” she called out as cheerfully as she could as she passed, aware a few moments later that it was actually late afternoon. Her sleep habits had been out of sync, at that.
I slept more peacefully against his chest.

“Marisa!” he exclaimed. She kept going. She could skip fresh fruits and vegetables if she needed to, even though she usually avoided prepared foods when she wasn’t working.
Frozen Pizza. And Chocolate.

She found the candy aisle and was placing a big bag of dark-chocolate bars into her cart when she felt his hand on her arm. “Marisa,” he said, his voice as soft as his grip was firm.

She tried to shake him free.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say things very well. I don’t doubt the sincerity of your belief, and I didn’t mean to call you a liar.”

She looked at his face. She didn’t doubt his sincerity either.
I don’t need you to believe what I believe. I need you to believe in
me. It was so tempting to imagine he could. She waited. She wasn’t sure she could resist if he asked her to forgive him. She wasn’t sure she could resist if he grabbed her and kissed her either. He made her feel soft and feminine in a way she didn’t normally feel.

For a long moment, they stared at each other. He didn’t make a move on her, and he didn’t ask for forgiveness.

“Let go of my arm,” she said at last.

“I will if you tell me you didn’t feel the connection that I felt.”

Damn straight, I felt a connection. I could drown in you
. The instinct to flee grew again. All it would take to get away was one little lie. But her whole lonely life, far in the country, was arranged so that she never had to hide who she was, never had to lie. Who was he to challenge that?

“I felt something pretty strong, Marisa. I can’t explain it, but I still felt it. I believe in it. And I want to experience it again.”

A young mother and her infant son had entered the aisle. There was a gangly man in the store polo shirt there too, stocking the cereal that was opposite the candy. An audience she didn’t need.

She closed her eyes for a moment and imagined herself an oak tree, strong and unmoving in the wind. She would not bend. And she knew how to get away. “Do you happen to know where the
cheesecake
aisle is? Because I’m looking for some
cheesecake
.”

His eyes went dark for a second, and then he released her arm. She knew that he would honor her safe word. She’d trusted him to do that much, not merely because she thought him trustworthy, but because if she didn’t, her only other way out was to scream. He wouldn’t like that much, especially if they ended up calling the cops on him. She smirked and walked away.

“I noticed you didn’t say no, Marisa. You have my number. Call me when you’re feeling brave.” Nolan turned and walked away.

“Cheesecake is in aisle ten, ma’am,” said the store employee.

She couldn’t think of anything she wanted to eat less right then, but she thanked him and wheeled her cart along in the opposite direction from the way Nolan went.

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” Nolan wished he was standing as usual, rather than sitting in the chair that Chief Jacobsen had directed him to occupy. The chair was never a good sign, and Nolan was tired. He’d been up since two a.m. because of a fight at a bar halfway across the county.

“With all due respect, Sergeant, it isn’t up to you.” Jacobsen frowned at him. Normally, the chief, who had only a smattering of police training, was happy to yield to his more experienced subordinate. When he wasn’t, and especially when he used his rank rather than his first name, Nolan knew that politics was at play. Jacobsen served at the pleasure of the Landon County board of supervisors. Supervisor Mackey’s son had been missing for six days, and he was losing patience with police efforts to find him.

“Then may I suggest you send someone else?”

Jacobsen frowned again. “Why would I do that? You were able to get her to help with the Dailey girl. You’re the obvious choice. Besides, Price is a lout with women, and McSweeney’s got a jealous wife who frets anytime he’s taking a pretty woman’s statement.”

He couldn’t deny either of the two. “Marisa and I have a history.”

“Exactly.”

“Whose stupid idea was this?” Nolan thought he knew, but he wanted to hear it anyway.

“Dismissed, Sergeant. I have other headaches to deal with.”

Nolan nodded and got to his feet. Jacobsen’s mind was obviously made up. Since Jacobsen wasn’t usually an ass, he was probably getting pressure from the supervisor, and Nolan knew if he stayed, he was going to end up in an argument with the wrong man. He was better off being angry somewhere else.

Nolan walked out of the office. Maybe he wouldn’t have to deal with all this much longer. He had an application in to join the Virginia Beach force, which might suit him better. But fantasizing about that wasn’t going to help get the current job done. He checked out a patrol car so he wouldn’t have to use his own. He didn’t want Marisa thinking he was coming on a social call.

Gerald Mackey was a troubled kid. A bright boy, he had a history of misbehavior all through high school, but nothing that had involved the police except for one busted keg party when he was seventeen. Most of it was normal kid stuff, a boy in search of his identity, acting up in every more outlandish ways as he tried to find who he was. Sophomore year was all-black year. His junior year he dyed his hair purple. As a senior he tried out for the football team, which probably wouldn’t have worked horribly well even in the suburbs, but the rural kids on the football team didn’t much care for “Jerry the freak” and made sure to hit him extra hard. Somewhere in the process of trying to ingratiate himself, Jerry’s grades tanked, and failing English canceled his ticket out of Landon County, which had been in the form of an acceptance from the University of Virginia. He needed a fresh start, but instead, he was back at high school, making up a semester of English and working the night shift at the Gallagher’s service station. One night he hadn’t shown up.

Rex Mackey didn’t claim to understand his son, but that he loved him was clear enough. Presumably he put a bug in Jacobsen’s ear about consulting a psychic. The idea of the conservative supervisor asking for help from a witch was pretty amusing. It was true enough, though, that conventional police methods hadn’t turned up anything so far, although that was often the case if someone didn’t want to be found. He got the feeling that Mackey thought that the police were just dragging their feet. Presumably the kid hadn’t been kidnapped, or there would be a ransom note. Probably he ran away from home. Since he was eighteen, there wasn’t much the police had to say about that, but there was always a chance that his body was lying in a ditch somewhere. The list of kids who’d harassed Jerry at some point was pretty long, starting with the whole Landon High School football team.

It had been three weeks since Nolan had driven down from Marisa’s house in the woods. Three long weeks without any female companionship. He hadn’t been interested. Other women seemed plain to him now. He’d become more aware of all the ways people tried to conform; Marisa didn’t bother, and he found that sexy as hell. She wanted to submit, but not at the cost of what she believed. As he followed the winding road, he tried to figure out what his approach would be. He
should
try to keep things professional. He thought of telling her that it had been his idea to enlist her help but decided not to. It might go some ways to patch the gap between them, but it wasn’t the truth, and he couldn’t stomach the idea of lying to Marisa.

He didn’t cotton to the notion of keeping things professional, either, but he had a job to do first and foremost. That job was to find Jerry Mackey, and the sooner he could get done with Marisa, the sooner he could get back to investigating the right way.

Unless she can actually help.

He snorted.
Right. Psychic powers. Witchcraft
. He’d had an easier time finding himself than poor Jerry Mackey had, but he knew what it was to grow up and take some time figuring out who one was. In fact, he suspected he’d be figuring out things until he was dead.
But a few things I know for sure. I’m a cop. I’m a dom. And I don’t believe in any of that hocus-pocus stuff.

The curtains were drawn when he drove up, although it was after ten in the morning. Maybe she was asleep still. He thought about the way they woke up together that first time, but the sweet memory turned bitter. He got out of the car, strode up the walk, and knocked. Getting sentimental wasn’t going to do him any good.

He was about to knock again when her voice came through the door. “I thought I told you to go away, Nolan.”

He smiled slightly. It wasn’t a welcome, but it was better than telling him to leave. “I don’t give up easily.” He kicked himself even as he said it.
Whatever happened to saying, “Police business?”

To his surprise, she opened the door. She was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans again. This time the shirt had a picture of a penguin on it. Damned if she didn’t look as beautiful in that as most women looked in an expensive gown. “I’m not a submissive, Nolan. I’m a strong woman. Not your type,” she told him firmly.

Right. Not a submissive
. “I don’t doubt that you’re a strong woman. Maybe someday you’ll have the strength to get what you want.” She
was
strong, and he wouldn’t have said it if she wasn’t. But there was nothing fake about her responses that night weeks ago.

She opened her mouth, to protest he suspected, but he cut it off. “Anyway, I’m not here about that. I’m here on police business. May I come in?”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea. I’m not inclined to let you do another search.”

He remembered finding the toys in her drawer. He took a moment to look her over. If he’d stayed away, he might have been able to move on from her. As it was, a new determination was taking hold. He
would
have her in his arms again. He wasn’t sure she could help him find Jerry Mackey, but he wasn’t going to let this opportunity go to waste.

“Let me know when you’re done with the visual,” she said. “I’m not letting you frisk me.”

“Not even if I bring my handcuffs?”

She gulped her next breath, and for a moment, she looked as if she was wavering. But he knew he wouldn’t win that way, and every time she said no, that only made her position more entrenched. “I’ll give you a rain check,” he said. “Right now, like I said, I’m here on police business. We’re looking for a boy named Jerry Mackey.”

“I barely know him,” she said

“I didn’t know you knew him at all.” He raised his eyebrows.

“Did he do anything bad?”

“Not as far as we know. He’s a missing person, and his dad wants us to find him.”

Marisa nodded. “A couple of years ago, he came out here a few times. He was interested in witchcraft, and I loaned him some books. He wanted a teacher, and I didn’t want to get involved with someone underage in a way that might put me in a compromising position, so he didn’t get what he wanted. Then, one time, he came looking for a spell. And don’t start in on me.” She glared.

Even more interesting
. “I wasn’t going to. What kind of spell did he want? Did you…do whatever you do? Cast a spell for him?”

“Not exactly.”

“Care to clarify?”

Marisa stepped outside, checked her jeans pocket, and closed the door behind her. “It’s not unusual for people to come to get me to cast spells for them. For the most part, I turn them down. They want things I can’t do, or shouldn’t do. They want me to hex someone for them. They want a love spell. But sometimes I can help, and do, and no, I don’t know for sure what good it does, but I do know that it gives them the ability to believe in an outcome. What you’d call the placebo effect, I suppose. I think there’s something else going on there, but I won’t try to convince you, unless you want to be convinced.”

Nolan shrugged.

“Anyway, yes, I cast a spell for Jerry, although not the one I was asked for. And I gave him one to cast for himself, because when we need change, that magic has to come from within. But it wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted power, and I suspect he wanted revenge, although he didn’t tell me as much. He wanted stuff magic can’t give.”

He left that one alone, even though he suspected she was using the word
magic
deliberately to bait him. “Is that the last time you saw Jerry? Two years ago?”

“Yes. But he called me a week ago and asked if I could help him cast a spell that would make him hard to find.”