Without a Net (7 page)

Ollie looked at Kemboi for some sort of explanation for exactly how Jackson knew that.

“The lieutenant told us to get eyes in there when you went quiet too long,” Kemboi said. “We were watching when they moved you out of the back and up onstage, but despite Jackson’s general level of creepiness, the only thing we saw a lot of was the top of your head.”

“And your cute little ass. You had a bit of a wiggle going there,” Jackson said, and Ollie fought to contain the furious words that threatened to pour out of his mouth.
Fuck.
They’d seen him. They’d seen what that asshole did to Buck, and they hadn’t done a fucking thing. Ollie’s emotions were so out of control he wasn’t sure what he would say when he spoke.

“And you witnessed a string of illegal sexual encounters,” Ollie shot back. “These people are so far over the line that it’s not funny. We have enough to close the place down now.”

Kemboi frowned, and the other two went quiet. Kemboi finally asked, “Are you kidding? We close them down on a code violation for sex acts, and the kidnapping ring moves somewhere else. That’s not an option.”

“Suck it up, Robertson,” Jackson said. “It’s not like they were doing anything you didn’t enjoy.”

Something inside Ollie snapped. “That’s right, all gay people are perverts who like seeing abuse passed off as kinky fun, right?” Ollie demanded.

“Hey!” Jackson was up and out of his chair in a second. “I’m not some freaky sexist. I never said gay people or gender-fluid people or any people were anything. I’m talking about you. You weren’t even trying to scream out any panic words. I mean, you paraded around for the calendar people, and now you had a whole room full of eyes on you. It must have been a fantasy.”

Kemboi stepped in. “Jackson, one more word and you are on report for harassment.”

Jackson snorted his disgust and sat back down, and Ollie had this vision of the man not bothering to show up when Ollie needed backup. If Jackson wasn’t an outright member of a hate group, he had a few sympathies going. He was right there with those freaks who thought the world would be great if everyone followed some of those radical countries and killed all the gays. Then they could go after all the gender-fluid folk, all the people who liked their sex spicy, everyone who had sex outside of marriage, and throw in a few public-speech advocates and burn them alongside the so-called freaks just for shits. That was the world these assholes wanted.

“I’m not going back in there,” Ollie said. “Those people are beyond insane. I don’t feel safe on this operation, and I’m pulling the plug. Department policy says I cannot be asked to go back into an undercover situation if I feel my life is at risk.” Ollie had rights, and it was time he took care of himself, because his backup team sure as hell didn’t have his back.

Kemboi took a second to glare at Jackson before he turned his attention back to Ollie. “We’re the third agency to try to get someone in here. ATF tried and failed; major crime tried and failed. But you…you did it. You got them to take you in as an employee. You can’t walk away.”

“ATF? Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms tried getting in there? Does that mean they’re running guns?” Ollie asked with horror. That had been left out of the briefing.

“Wrong letter,” Kemboi quickly assured him. “The ‘T’ got involved because word was that these folks were selling that genetically modified, superjuiced marijuana. They couldn’t get anyone inside, though, and they had no proof. They couldn’t afford to keep the surveillance up when they struck out so magnificently on getting an operative in there.”

“I can see why they couldn’t get anyone inside. These people are crazy. Absolutely insane. I’m not going back in,” Ollie said firmly.

“Fuck,” Jackson said with entirely too much amusement in his voice. “I didn’t know you were such a pussy.”

“Fuck off.” Ollie flipped Jackson off. Cooper looked confused.

“Hey, both of you, knock it off,” Kemboi said. “We have a job, and we’re all tired. Robertson, you’ve had a twelve-hour shift, most of it in a difficult and dangerous situation. You kept your cool, but you aren’t up for making rational decisions right now. Too much adrenaline. And Jackson, stop with the asshole impressions. We’re a team, and if Robertson hadn’t taken the job as bait, you were next in line, so think about that before you let your mouth run.” Kemboi turned his back on them and focused on the computer station they’d set up for surveillance.

“Ollie, check in at the flop hotel with your secondary team and then slip out the back. I need you to go home and get your head on right. We can talk about whether we’re pulling the plug tomorrow. Jackson, go home. Cooper and I can close down the site for tonight.”

Jackson muttered under his breath, but he headed for the exit. That meant Ollie had to either follow orders or try to get Kemboi to shut the program down tonight. Kemboi was a good cop and a good team lead. If he said he wouldn’t considering retooling the op until tomorrow, he meant it. Ollie had to go home without having this settled.

“Cooper, shadow Ollie to the hotel. Delany will pick up shadow from there. I’ll call him and let him know.”

“I don’t need shadowing once I get to the hotel,” Ollie said. He knew he wouldn’t win the fight, though, so he left before Kemboi could say anything else. Ollie didn’t worry that someone from the club would try to snatch him. Younger subs would be easier to mentally rewire. Get them to associate pain with praise and aftercare and pleasure, and you could alter their dynamic forever. Ollie was too old for that sort of brainwashing.

* * * *

An hour later, Ollie pulled into his space, and he noticed no one was using his solar charger. Maybe Mrs. Dennison had finally learned her lesson.
Good.
Ollie didn’t have any patience left for other human beings. His nerves were so raw he itched to fight, and that was never good.

Maybe he should go to a real control club, one where he could get his itch scratched without a side of manipulation and mind fucking. He considered it for a half second before he got out of his car and walked toward his apartment. He couldn’t afford to let down his barriers—not now.

When he turned the corner, he noted the bright glow of a cigarette or blunt up on the third floor. His neighbor was smoking something. Funny, Travis hadn’t struck Ollie as the sort to indulge. If Ollie had to guess, he would have put Travis down as more of a health nut. He had the trim figure. Besides, people who smoked often had a certain look once they hit their forties. Their lower face was a little more wrinkled, a little more aged, than the rest of their face. Travis hadn’t seemed the sort.

But then again, plenty of people indulged in marijuana from time to time without being regular smokers. Ollie’s horrible night had him on edge, and he disliked that Travis could watch as Ollie headed to his door.

“Evening,” Ollie called up, hoping to try to make the evening seem normal.

“Nice night, isn’t it?” Travis called back down. He sounded happy, so it was probably a blunt. Yeah, Ollie’s paranoia was turned up too high.

For a second, Ollie considered going up to their apartment. The offer to play had sounded genuine enough, and while women didn’t turn Ollie’s crank, Travis did. Subbing for both of the Canturburys might be a lot of fun.

He hadn’t yet decided what to do when Travis started down the stairs.

“Yeah, great one,” Ollie answered. He looked toward his door and considered making a fast retreat, but that seemed rude.

“Okay, that sounded less than sincere.” Travis ground his cigarette out on a step before reaching the bottom floor. “Rough night?”

Ollie hesitated.

“You don’t need to give me details. I’m a retired cop. I can usually fill in the blanks if you tell me what variety of bad you had. Was this trying to get liquefied dead guy out of your uniform boots or stupid kid ruining his life?”

“More like people-who-don’t-understand-consent sort of bad.”

“Rape case? I always hated those.” Travis grimaced.

“No, nothing like that. It’s more like shade assholes.”

“Oh.” Travis’s voice was flat. All the sympathy Ollie now realized he wanted failed to appear. The feeling of betrayal wasn’t logical given that Travis didn’t owe him anything.

“I should get some sleep.” Ollie suddenly wanted to be away from Travis.

“Hey, no. I’m sure it was bad, but don’t paint all shade Doms with the same brush.”

Ollie narrowed his eyes as he remembered Travis commenting that his wife accused him of coming on too strong. “Hey, if you’re into that…” He let his words trail off. He figured the tone carried his disapproval.

“I’m just saying that I’ve known a number of shade subs. I had one for a partner, and they are the scariest bastards you’ve ever met.”

Ollie had been reaching for his doorknob, but he turned around at that. “What?”

Travis leaned against the stair rail. “People talk about shade Doms, and I get that. Dominants do tend to make themselves the center of attention—but the shade subs I’ve known were terrifying. That’s why they went in for the shade side of the control games. They couldn’t turn off that big personality of theirs without riding a sharper edge.”

“No offense, but that doesn’t sound healthy.”

Travis shrugged. “If I tried free-climbing, that wouldn’t be very safe, but for a small percentage of the population, it’s great fun.”

Ollie thought about Buck. Honestly, he was formidable—enough that Ollie had trouble seeing him as sub. At least he’d had trouble before the bench incident. The punishment Buck had endured had pushed him into submission.

After a long silence, Travis spoke again. “So, with your case tonight, was the sub clinging to you and afraid, or mad as hell and accusing you of violating his or her right to chase a really good orgasm?”

Neither was true in this case, but Ollie wasn’t going to give Travis any details. However, if Ollie had tried to arrest people, Buck definitely would have been in the second category. That didn’t mean Ollie was comfortable with the situation. “I think control clubs are great, and I have never minded getting tied down, but rules are rules for a reason. Too many people get hurt when those lines get blurred.”

Travis nodded. “You’re right that it’s dangerous. A lot of things are. But there’s something intensely erotic about straining against restraints, sweating and panting as you wait for the next sensation, never knowing what’s coming. The anticipation, the lack of control—it’s like the spice that makes every nerve sing.”

Ollie’s cock hardened. He could imagine that too well, and yeah, he’d love that if he could really trust his partner, but trust didn’t come that easily. He cleared his throat. “Too much spice ruins a dish.”

Travis studied him for a long time before answering. “Yeah, maybe it does,” he agreed. “Well, I’ll let you get some sleep.” He turned to head upstairs, and Ollie was left with an odd mixture of feelings he couldn’t even identify, much less process. When he’d first started out as a detective, he’d had a great partner—Donna Silver. When he felt like he was in over his head, she always had the right words to convince him he had the skills to get the job done. Maybe he was missing that professional support.

Ollie turned back to his door, slipping his thumb in the reader to unlock it. A lack of professional affirmation didn’t explain his hard cock or the sinking feeling that he’d somehow disappointed Travis, but those were explained away as a combination of sex-enhancing drugs and a really shitty night.

Too tired to even go to bed, Ollie collapsed onto his couch. The new asshole who had the apartment next to Mrs. Dennison had his music up so loud the bass vibrated through the walls. Ollie gritted his teeth, and then he thought about the fact that Mrs. Dennison hated having her chi or her karma or whatever interrupted. He decided he kind of liked the beat.

After a few minutes, he forced himself back up to his feet so he could grab a beer before collapsing back onto his couch. He wanted the world to go away so he could have five minutes of peace, but his brain kept spinning. Travis’s words colored all his memories of the night in ways that disturbed Ollie. The image of Buck’s face was burned into Ollie’s mind—the fear during the whipping, the resignation during the…

What should Ollie call it? Rough sex? Rape? Part of that depended on how much had been negotiated and agreed upon ahead of time, and honestly, Ollie wasn’t sure those people were into negotiations.

The worst part was the absolute calm on Buck’s face in the end. Ollie knew how that felt—when you were so blissed-out on submission that the world was a bright and shiny place. But if Buck had been raped, how screwed up did he have to be to get his happy on after that experience? Ollie’s head could not find a way to make all the pieces fit together. Travis might just call it spice, but shade-club sex came with the afterburn of emotional manipulation and the very real danger of abuse.

Time slowly slid past as Ollie drank his beer and then sat in the dark silence trying to make peace with his own thoughts. When his doorbell rang, he dropped his bottle.

“Shit,” he muttered, grabbing it and putting it on the coffee table. “Coming!” For some reason, he thought it might be Travis. Maybe not. Drugs and playtime were generally not a good combination.

Ollie checked the door camera and froze. He had to look twice to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, and then he opened the door.

“Captain.”

“Detective. I’m glad to see you in one piece.” Captain Greyson stood there for a while before asking, “Can I come in?”

Crap.
“Of course,” Ollie said as soon as he got his brain to engage again. He stepped back and gestured the captain inside. That was when he noticed the abandoned drinking glasses everywhere, the pile of shoes, the unwashed dishes, the stack of junk mail. “Ignore the mess.”

Captain Greyson chuckled. “I do remember what it’s like to be a bachelor, even if those days are far in the past. So, I hear it got intense tonight.” He sat in Ollie’s best chair, which meant Ollie either had to sit or hover over his captain. He sat on the couch.

“Which part?”

“I heard about a couple of interesting parts. The lieutenant wanted to know if he could force you to stay on the case, and Kemboi filed a 5-60 against a member of your backup team, which makes me wonder if I need to give my whole staff sexual-harassment training. So, I heard Huda’s version and Kemboi’s, so why don’t you tell me what happened out there?”