Chapter 11

“I don’t know,” Nathan answered.

It was the harsh truth.

“You could revise your statement and include the details. But that’d lead to the company and so on if we wanted to investigate this man further,” Nathan added.

“Let me think on this a minute.” Charles closed his eyes. “I’m still taking this all in, and I’m not exactly at my best. Excuse me.”

“Take as long as you need.” Nathan leaned against the wall. “I’m in no rush.”

Someone dropped a tray outside the closed door. The metal clanging grated on Nathan’s ears, but he didn’t move, didn’t want to interrupt Charles’s introspection.

He’d want the same respect and silence to make his own decision.

Finally Charles shook his head, slowly and carefully. “I’m sorry. It’d open too many doors. I’m not ready for that.” He bit down on his lower lip and grunted. “I might never be.” He caught Nathan’s eye. “You understand. I care for her but when it comes down to it I can’t expose myself for her.” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Nathan said. “I understand.”

He wasn’t lying. If he were in Charles’s place, he wasn’t sure what he’d say back.

But now he knew they couldn’t use this crime to get Lucas Tanner.

And that left precious few options.

Nathan nodded. “Thank you for talking to me.”

He moved toward the door to leave.

“Officer.”

Nathan turned.

“Please tell her I’m sorry. And I’ll miss her horribly.” Charles looked directly at Nathan. “I’m not strong enough to do this. But you—you take care of her. In every way you can.”

The tone left no room for discussion, reminding Nathan of the tough lawyer laying out the basic facts in court.

You’re a cop. You have a duty. Protect her.

Nathan gave a curt nod, his stomach rolling.

As he walked out the doors and headed for the parking lot, he mentally ran down the issues presented.

It was easy to look at Tanner as the only suspect. But he knew from experience things weren’t always as they seemed.

They needed to be certain of their facts.

Initial problem—was this attack aimed at Jen, Charles or Hooded Pleasures?

Let’s look over Charles again. Let’s make sure we’ve got the right target.

Nathan dug in his pocket and found a few coins. He dropped them in the lap of a sleeping homeless person huddled in a doorway.

Maybe someone found out Jen had been visiting Charles and didn’t like it.

Maybe one of his ex-girlfriends.

Maybe one of his competitors looking to get some dirt on Litten.

Maybe—

He shook his head, dismissing the idea and clearing Charles as the target.

As he’d stated to Charles—it didn’t make sense. Blackmail would be more likely if they wanted to put the boots to Charles more than just physically. They could ask for money, information, use him somehow.

Demanding he quit seeing Jen effectively terminated any chance they had to control him.

Nathan kicked a crushed soda can down the street. He stopped and picked it up before dropping it in the nearest trash receptacle.

Jen next.

Tanner looked better and better for this.

He at least warranted a closer look, if for nothing else than to clear him.

Nathan frowned as a cold wind cut through his clothing.

If the guy’s got a grudge, then why not attack Jen directly? It takes a lot of time and effort to stalk someone, and if he’d been following her around, then why not just jump her and be done with it?

He forced himself not to think about that confrontation. Jen might be a good fighter, but a punk like Tanner would fight dirty. He wasn’t going to lose to her again if he could help it.

What was the purpose of going after one of her clients? Did he even know who Charles was, what she was for him?

For me?

Nathan turned into the parking lot and headed for his car.

Last target, then—the company itself.

Who would want to take HP down?

Nathan ran through the steps in his mind.

A rival company or maybe an angry ex-employee.

Give it up, he told himself. This is beyond what you know about HP.

And this is why you can’t keep it between you and Jen any longer.

Nathan slid in behind the steering wheel and dug the keys out of his pocket.

This could get damned messy.

No matter who was the target, the entire situation stank to high heaven.

The priority was figuring out who the real target was, HP or Jen.

The company or the woman.

Until they could figure that one out, they’d be one step behind whoever had cracked Charles in the head.

Nathan scowled at the parking attendant as he pulled out of the parking lot, the harsh truth twisting in his gut.

This was going to get a lot worse before it got better.

On his way home, he called Dispatch and booked off his next shift, claiming stomach flu. Nathan had a slew of sick days available, and there was no way he could go to work and put this off until the next day. It wouldn’t be fair to Jen and HP to put them on hold until he’d completed his shift, and it wasn’t fair to Henry and the people he was sworn to protect and serve if he was distracted and worried.

Now he waited for the phone to ring.

Nathan busied himself by making up a fresh pot of coffee and a tray of cinnamon rolls, the simple routine of popping out the prefabricated bits from the fat doughy cylinder keeping his mind busy.

He’d need the sugar and caffeine if things went anywhere near as crazy as he expected them to.

There was no good way to say what he had to say to Jennifer. What he wanted her to do, wanted them to do.

All he could hope for was to contain the damage.

It was well after three in the afternoon when the phone rang. Nathan stopped his pacing in the kitchen and snatched it up.

“What did he say? How did he look?” The breathless questions had him aching to have her there in his kitchen, safe under his watch if any of his fears were well-founded. “I pulled up the news report online. He—”

“He’s fine. I’ve seen worse. Nothing he can’t recover fully from with a bit of rest and a few pain pills.” Nathan cleared his throat. “We spoke and agreed it wasn’t a random mugging.”

Jen paused for a moment. “What?”

“During and after the attack, his assailant made it clear Charles shouldn’t see you anymore.”

“Oh.” Jen swallowed hard. “I don’t—”

Nathan cut her off. He’d been holding this in for too long and wasn’t going to hold back to be polite or gentle.

“Charles wasn’t some unlucky victim. He was stalked, followed until the opportunity presented itself—he was alone and vulnerable, open to be attacked.” He slashed the air with his hand, not caring she couldn’t see him. “He was targeted for one of three reasons. Someone had a personal hate on for him, someone had a hate on for you, or someone had it on for Hooded Pleasures. No matter which option, it’s bad and going to get worse before it gets better.”

The line went silent.

Nathan plowed on. “The mugger made a point of telling Charles to stop seeing you. He was attacked because of his relationship to you and/or to HP. I don’t think it’s about Charles. It’s too focused to be just about him. It’s either about you or HP. Either one doesn’t make me happy.”

He paused to catch his breath and steel himself for what had to be said.

“It’s time to call Hooded Pleasures. Someone’s targeting you or their clients. Either option isn’t good. And I haven’t even started talking about Lucas Tanner.” He kept talking, not giving her the chance to interrupt. “I know it’s probably going to get our arrangement terminated, but I have to think about keeping the public safe. It’s not about just us. I have a responsibility as a cop and as a human being to sound the alarm bells on this before anyone else gets hurt. I’d call the police myself, but without anything other than circumstantial evidence, it’s not going to go far. Charles won’t talk to the cops, and I don’t blame him.”

The silence made him go on talking.

“I’m sorry. I can’t let this go. Even if you asked me to, I couldn’t. I wanted to tell you before I called HP, because it’s all going to come down on our heads and you deserved to know what I was going to do first.”

The quiet on the line spun his stomach around. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Jen?”

“You’re right. Let me call it in. You won’t get past the operator.” She gave a rough laugh. “They’re good at stalling when they have to be. I’ll be able to cut through the static faster.”

Nathan felt the knot in his stomach start to unravel. “I believe you. Call me when you’ve got an answer. I’ll be waiting for an update.”

“Yes. Thank you. For everything.” The line fell silent.

He looked at the blank screen, then at the oven, the thick cinnamon smell beginning to fill the kitchen.

It seemed like months since he’d knelt at her feet at the front door, eager to submit to her every wish—his one thought on serving her and by doing so obtain his own pleasure.

Now he felt like someone had been tap-dancing on his balls. And not in a good, fun way like Jen would do it.

“This is turning into one hell of a day,” he announced to no one.

Jen had been working the bag while waiting to call Nathan, channeling the energy into something more productive than glaring at the phone.

She’d built up the scenario in her mind, envisioning Charles’s mugging.

It didn’t take much to imagine Charles walking through an alleyway, a shortcut to his car. He’d mentioned how much he enjoyed a late-night drink with his buddies.

The ones who could never know about his desires.

Charles trotting toward his car, probably whistling one of those annoying tunes she hated. He’d whistle during their sessions on purpose to set her off, give her something to punish him for.

Had he been hurt because of her?

She punched the bag as hard as she could, working up a sweat to keep her mind from wandering down the worst of roads.

Then Nathan called and confirmed the worst.

It was one thing to say good-bye because Charles had moved on, taking the chance to go to a club and find the right Domme for himself.

Another to know he’d been pushed out the door, forced away from what he loved by a monster who wanted to deny Charles a basic need.

After hanging up on Nathan, she ran through the logic, replayed his arguments as she stripped off her hand wraps.

Nathan’s reasoning is sound.

You have to do this.

She paused to rub her face with both palms, trying to work the nerve up to go to the phone.

This isn’t about you.

It’s about Charles and Nathan and Wendy and Evan and everyone at HP.

She had to make this call. It’d be irresponsible for her not to alert the company that one of her clients had been targeted.

Or she had.

Either way, they had to know.

Even if it screwed up her relationship with Nathan.

Not about you.

Jen went into the kitchen and drew a glass of water before returning to the living room.

The cell phone lay on the table, waiting.

She drained the glass in two long swigs and picked up the phone. Jen tapped in the office number, her heart racing.

“Yes?” It wasn’t Tracy.

Jen held back a smile. Woman’s got to sleep sometime.

“I need to speak to Wendy. It’s an emergency.” There was no other way to start the conversation.

The operator’s voice was calm and collected. “I understand. Are you in danger right now? Can you speak freely? If not, please say ‘Affirmative’, and I’ll call 911 on your behalf.”

Always protecting us, Jen thought. Even though she’d read the packet provided to all new Dommes, it was good to see the system in action. There was the possibility she was being held against her will and told what to say.

Safe-words weren’t only for submissives.

“Yes I’m fine. I’m at home in my apartment.” She chose her words with care. “I have a situation. One of my subs was attacked in public and told to break off our relationship. He called and canceled his contract with HP. He’s recovering, but I think Wendy and Evan need to know. This may or may not have to do with a man in my past, before I began working for HP.”

She intentionally left out Nathan’s involvement.

I’ll tell that to Wendy personally.

No need to get the entire office atwitter over this.

“I see.” The smooth reply made her think for a second she hadn’t made herself clear. The sound of typing came over the line. “Do you think you’re safe right now? We can dispatch private security if you need—”

“No. I can defend myself.” Jen cut her off. She glanced over at her hand wraps and the punching bag.

She paused to consider her words, remembering Charles’s injuries.

There was a difference between feeling confident and being foolhardy.

If Tanner was stalking her, she might not be as lucky as she’d been the first time they’d met.

The words spilled out before she had a chance to censor them. “I’m going to ask a friend to come over and keep me company.”

“Good decision. I’m contacting Wendy and Evan right now. Please keep your phone close. Call 911 if you feel you’re in danger. Don’t call us.” She hung up before Jen could reply.

Jen stared at the phone.

Damn.

Colleen was a good friend, but Jen couldn’t pull her into this. If there was even the smallest chance of her getting hurt—

No.

But there was someone else she could ask to come over.

Jen touched the screen and hammered on the tiny keypad, her fingers trembling.

“Yes?”

Nathan’s voice was like pouring oil on her troubled waters. “I need you to come over. Right now.”

“Are you okay?” he demanded.

“Yes. I called the office and told them about the situation. I’m waiting to hear back from Wendy. She’s probably going to want to see me in person, talk through this. I—I can’t do this alone.” The confession burned her throat, but Jen knew the truth of it.

I need you here. Now.

There was no hesitation in his voice. “Okay. Give me your address. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Keep the door locked and the phone nearby. If she wants you to go to the HP office, wait for me. I’ll go with you.”

She rattled off the instructions and hung up before he could reply.

From the frying pan—

The phone rang, startling her.

Jen picked it up and studied the number before answering.

Hooded Pleasures.

There was no turning back now.

She tapped the button and put it on speakerphone. “Hello?”

“Wendy is on her way over to your apartment. She should be there within the hour,” the operator said in a low, steady voice. “Previous instructions still stand. Call 911 if you’re in danger.”

“Thank you,” Jen replied.

She put the phone back down and tried to steady her nerves.

Wendy wasn’t going to be happy to see Nathan.

On the other hand, breaking the rules should be the least of her concerns right now.

Jen didn’t know what else to do as she waited so she cleaned. She scurried around her apartment picking up random items of clothing that had escaped her laundry stack, straightening piles of magazines waiting to be read and tidying up around the punching bag.

It was just before four o’clock in the afternoon when Nathan arrived, the soft knock at the front door sending her into a whole new level of nervousness.

Stop it, her inner voice yelled. This isn’t a date. He’s not coming to take you out to a movie. He’s here because you don’t want to hang him out to dry when Wendy finds out he did you a favor and broke the rules.

You also want him to be here to help you feel safe.

Because if Lucas Tanner is hunting you, there’s no way he’s going to play fair.

She went to open the door.

Nathan stood there wearing a leather jacket and jeans, holding out a plastic container. The smell of cinnamon wafted over her, and she couldn’t help grinning.

“I thought we’d need a little sugar rush.”

Her mouth watered as she smiled at him.

Nathan cocked his head to one side, waiting.

Jen caught herself.

He’s waiting for your permission.

“Come in. Come in,” she repeated. “You’re not—” She searched for the words. “We’re not—”

Nathan nodded and walked past her. He found the kitchen easily and set the container down.

Jen followed. “Wendy’s on her way over.”

Nathan stopped. “Does she know I’m going to be here?”

“No.” Jen shook her head. “But she’s going to want to talk to you anyway.”

Nathan paused before giving her a nod. “True. Better sooner than later.”

“I’ve got coffee ready. Figured we could use the caffeine.” Jen strode to the cupboards and pulled two plates out along with two fresh mugs. “You must be exhausted.”

“I’m normally asleep by this time on a usual day.” His smile chased away any shadows in the room. “This isn’t a usual day.” He popped the plastic lid off. “Besides, I don’t think I could sleep right now.”

Jen opened a drawer and extracted forks and knives. She handed them to him along with some dishes from the cupboard and went to fill the mugs as he plated up the delicious-smelling treats.

She glanced over as he set up the biggest cinnamon buns she’d ever seen.

He has to feel awkward too.

Here we are like two regular people, two normal humans chatting away, when the last time we were together, he was naked and on his knees.

Nathan gave no indication he felt out of sorts, no visible signals he was uncomfortable being there. He wore a light blue dress shirt tucked into jeans that hugged him in all the right places. As she watched, he unbuttoned the long sleeves and rolled them up his arms, evening out both sides with a flick of his fingers.

Despite the situation, she couldn’t help feeling a thrill tickle her skin at seeing his strong, sturdy muscles at work.

He chuckled as he licked his fingers clean of the white icing. “Hope you don’t mind a few fingerprints here and there. I sort of went overboard with the topping.”

Jen felt the tension in her muscles begin to ease as she relaxed, his mere presence comforting and calming her.

Along with a little frisson of desire.

A man who liked to cook and was good on his knees.

Didn’t see that too often.

She handed him a mug and leaned against the counter with her own, waiting to be served.

Nathan slid the plate in front of her. The gooey white icing dribbled down the sides of the mammoth bun. “I understand Charles’s reasons for not wanting to take this public, revise his statement and get the police officially involved.” He shook his head. “I don’t agree, but I get where he’s coming from. It’s damned thin to build a case against Tanner or whoever’s behind this.”

“I think it’s Tanner, but you’re right. We have to keep our options open. Still—damn. If we had the cops on our side, it’d make everything a whole lot easier.” Jen poked at the bun with her fork. “And a whole lot more complicated. I can’t blame him for his decision.” She looked up. “Is he okay?”

Charles had always been a pleasure to visit. He’d set up a room in his condo for her private visits, much like Nathan had. It took little effort to see it in her mind’s eye.

The St. Andrew’s cross. The spanking bench. The chained cuffs hanging from the ceiling.

All the toys lying unused now.

Unless he got the nerve up to go to a club or to hire another Domme. Until then, he’d deny himself, keep his desires far beneath the surface.

She didn’t want to think about him cutting out that part of his soul.

“I said he’s fine.” The rough tone in Nathan’s words shocked her.

The sudden clarity hit her like a slap across the face.

It had been painful for him to visit Charles.

Two subs in the same room, both with her as Domme.

And neither of them liked to share.

She’d put Nathan in a bad spot and he’d gone willingly because he wanted to help her at the sake of his own discomfort.

Because she’d ordered him to, whether or not she’d realized it.

Jen stared at her cup of coffee trying to find the right words to apologize, to salve his soul from the invisible stripes she’d put on him by her request.

Nathan finished off his coffee and the roll without saying anything.

He hadn’t meant to snap at her but—

Charles.

It’d been easy to see him as another mugging victim at first, another basic interview.

Danielle.

Charles knew her as Danielle.

Nathan knew her as Jennifer.

The clash of worlds hadn’t stopped there.

He’d tried hard not to think about Charles on his knees in front of her, and it’d backfired on him.

Now all he could think about was the calm, collected lawyer strung up in front of her for a flogging, his bare back exposed to the whims and desires of his Domme.

My Domme.

It’d been a startling reminder that no matter what happened between him and Jen he was just one of her subs. Maybe a bit closer than the others, maybe a bit more special, but still just a client.

Mine.

He gritted his teeth together and tried not to stare at Jen as she scooped up the last sweet bits with her fork.

As soon as she was finished, he collected the plates and put them in the sink to keep his hands busy.

Wendy was on her way.

His world was about to change and not necessarily for the better.

But he’d sworn an oath to protect and serve.

And that oath included Jennifer and Charles.

A sound had him swiveling around.

Jen covered her mouth, stifling a yawn.

Nathan gestured to the living room. “Go sit down. I’ll clean up here.” He forced a smile. “Keep me busy.”

“Have you met Wendy before?” Jen asked as she stood.

He retrieved the empty plate and put it in the sink. “I saw her when I first went to the office. Then I returned to interview Kate.” He chuckled at the memory. “She made quite the impression on me.”

“I’m sure she did.” She gave him a knowing wink. “It’s meant to make you uncomfortable and easier to interview, easier to assess.”

Nathan grinned. “I was pissed off. Thought I was coming in to choose my Domme, interview the woman they’d chosen for me.” He snapped his fingers. “Got flipped and twisted sideways. I only figured it out when I got back home and realized I’d been played. I was the one being interviewed.”

“Kate’s good at that. Was good at that.” Jen corrected herself. “Men come in claiming they’re subs, but often they don’t understand what it means, what it’s all about. Some want to top from the bottom and play at being the submissive when they want to dictate everything.” She took a sip of coffee. “More often than not, it’s a subconscious problem—subs think they’re Doms and vice versa based on the books they’ve read or what they’ve heard about through the grapevine or researched online. The interview helps us figure out what you want. Even if it’s not what you initially thought.”

“Have you done many…interviews?” The question came out before he could edit it, tuck it back into the recesses of his mind.

They both knew what he was asking.