Cuffed & Collared (7 page)

“Yeah, okay.” There wasn’t a lot of excitement in his daughter’s voice. He blamed Julie for that. The woman watched her weight obsessively and was already stoking the same concern in their daughters.

“The next day, we’ll go shopping at the Pru after school.” He knew he had her now. Since the divorce, he had moved into a condo in the Back Bay, within easy walking distance to the trendy shopping mall. Like her mother, Emma could always work up interest in having money spent on her. And while it was a shameless bribe for a divorced father to make, he hated living apart from his daughters, and it was only a matter of time before first Emma and then Stephanie would balk at staying with him at all on the weekends.

“That would be awesome, Dad,” Emma replied with genuine-sounding enthusiasm.

Kyle smiled at the tone despite his aching ass. The gesture reminded him, however, of the smirk Mistress Regan sported too often during their session that afternoon. Oh, man had he nearly shit himself when she walked into the room. He thought she was still chasing down other leads and was feeling guilty about not letting her in on the club, but she was way ahead of him. Working undercover, no doubt, although if he hadn’t known she was a cop, he would have been convinced she was the real deal.

She’d been totally hot and fuckable in her Dominatrix outfit, and to his chagrin, his cock had proclaimed the fact loud and clear. She certainly knew how to wield that strap, too, although he had taken fifteen hard whacks without even considering giving her the safeword. Yellow. He never used the word because he hated the color, and he hated being reminded of his old man’s incessant carping about what it meant to be a man.

“Go, on, Kyle, be a man and do it. Don’t be yellow, now. No one likes a coward. You have to be tough, take charge, be a man!
”

The memory of his father’s voice soured Kyle’s stomach, and because that was not the kind of father he was going to be ever with two daughters and no sons, he put the memory of the old man and of Regan Malloy out of his mind.

Returning to his grilling fish, Kyle turned off the heat and moved the food to a plate while he finished his conversation. “We’ll have fun, I promise, Em.”

The security intercom at the front door buzzed, surprising him. He wasn’t expecting anyone. “Look, honey, I have to go. Someone’s at the door. I’ll talk to you soon, okay? And don’t forget to do your homework.”

There was a groan over the line. “Yes, Dad. Bye.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

Hanging up, Kyle went to the intercom and pushed the button. “Yes?”

“Mr. Ramsey, it’s Sergeant Malloy.”

His dick greeted the news with alacrity, straining even more to burst from its confines. This time, Kyle didn’t try to disabuse it. What would be the point? Even if his T-shirt wasn’t long enough to cover the evidence, the sexy cop had already seen it in action. She knew he wanted her.

Instead, he said, “I’ll be right there,” and went out to the foyer.

Through the frosted glass of the front door he shared with the other condo, he could see the outline of the tall, lanky woman. When he opened the door, there she stood, hip cocked and wearing jeans, a collarless shirt, and a black leather bomber jacket. Other than her hair still being slicked back, Mistress Regan was gone, including the red nails.

Funny, despite the sexless clothes, Kyle still had to fight the urge to grab the woman by the waist, shove her against the wall, and grind his aching cock against her while he buried his face between her luscious breasts. But, no, that would hardly be dignified out here. Besides, he would bet the bulge under her arm was her service revolver and that she might very well shoot him if he dared to assault her even in the friendliest of ways. So he tried to act nonchalant.

“Sergeant Malloy, or should I say Mistress Regan, I’m surprised to see you.”

“May I come in?” Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, and the saucy look she had sported as a Dominatrix was replaced by a detached professionalism.

“Of course.” He stepped aside to let her in and led the way back into his unit. When they were both inside his place, he gestured toward the kitchen. “If you don’t mind, Sergeant, I was just getting dinner.”

She stopped her unabashed perusal of his living room and turned to look at him with wide eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. I guess I assumed you would have eaten by now.”

“I rarely manage to eat earlier than this on week nights.” He eyed her speculatively. “I bet you don’t, either.”

She shrugged. “As it happens, you’re right.”

“Then please join me.” Oh, man where had that invitation come from? Hadn’t he had enough of this woman for one day? He should only want for her to get the ass-reaming out of the way quickly and leave. And he had no doubt he was in for one. She had to be furious about his going to the club. Still, his mother had taught him manners.

She shook her head. “No, thanks. I don’t want to take your dinner away from you.”

The smile she gave him this time was entirely genuine…and tired. The poor woman looked like she’d been up even longer than he had. And, unlike him, she had worked up a sweat probably most of the day. Desire took a back seat to plain compassion.

“You won’t. I made plenty. Please have a seat.” He motioned toward the bar chairs on the other side of the kitchen counter.

She pleased him by giving a nod and doing as he suggested. He entered the kitchen and started dishing out a salmon fillet for each of them along with a helping of warm spinach salad with walnuts and goat cheese. He put the plate with a place setting and napkin in front of her before holding up the bottle of chilled Chablis he’d already opened.

“Wine?”

She cocked her eyebrows. “Sure, why not? I’ll be off duty in a few minutes anyway.”

“A few minutes?” he prodded as he poured the wine.

“After we’ve had a little chat.”

“Ah.” He put the glass in front of her, noticing that she was waiting for him to begin eating. Apparently the Sergeant’s mother had taught her manners, too. Picking up his plate, he leaned one hip against the counter and began eating. His guest did the same.

Her eyelids drooped down with the first mouthful, and she moaned in appreciation. The sound did nothing to ease his arousal. He abandoned his fork for his glass of wine and downed a healthy swallow. The cool liquid didn’t help, either. If anything it stoked the heat.

“This is excellent,” the sergeant said after chasing her mouthful of fish with some wine. A drop glistened on her upper lip.

Kyle tried not to stare at that bit of wine, especially when the tip of her tongue flicked out to lick it. Instead, he cleared his throat and focused on his plate of food.

“Thank you,” he replied. “I like to eat well, and I put a high premium on self-sufficiency.”

“This is more than merely taking care of yourself. My mother taught me how to do basic meals, but this is gourmet.”

He shrugged off the compliment, although he was more pleased by it than he should be. What did it matter what this woman thought of him? Her only function in his life was to find his friend’s killer, and because he knew she was seconds away from putting down her fork and picking up her verbal cudgel, he decided to go on the offensive, as he would with any adversary.

“So, did you have a productive day as Mistress Regan?”

Over a forkful of salad, she gave him a hard stare. She didn’t react further to his question or answer it until she had eaten the bite. “I’m not at liberty to discuss my activities during an ongoing investigation.”

“Bullshit!” Putting his plate down on the counter, Kyle braced himself against it with his hands and glared back at the cop. “Need I remind you that I’m the one who found his best friend lying in blood-soaked sheets? I have a vested interest in having his killer found.”

“Hmm,” she replied with infuriating calm, still enjoying the meal he had given her. “If you were really serious about finding justice for your friend, you wouldn’t have lied to me when I asked you about his sex life.”

“I didn’t lie.”

“Then why did I find you at Club Nemesis?”

It was a fair question, and one he’d known he’d have to answer eventually. With a sigh, he broke eye contact, guilt making him want to squirm like a school boy hauled in front of the principal. He didn’t, however, because his father had drilled a sense of responsibility into him. Always own up to your actions.

“I didn’t lie. When you first asked, I didn’t know about the club. It was later that I remembered he had given me a card for the place, and I went to see what it was like.”

“It didn’t occur to you to call me with the information?”

He looked at her again. She was finishing her meal, licking the tines of her fork to get the last bit of salmon into her mouth. Thoughts flew from his head as he watched her tongue flick over the metal. It was a quick movement, not meant to be sensual, and yet all he could picture was that moist pinkness sliding up the outside of his cock before her full lips enveloped his glans and sucked it inside the warm cavern of her mouth. He leaned further into the counter to press against his erection.

Despite the closeness he created, the cop didn’t try to distance herself. “Did it?” she demanded instead.

“Did it what?” he repeated in a low voice pitched to seduce.

“Did it occur to you to call me and tell me about Club Nemesis?”

Right, the murder, Jazz’s murder.
Focus, moron
. “Ah, yes, it did actually.” He kept his gaze steady on her eyes, though, unable to tear away no matter what the topic. “But I wasn’t sure until I got there what it was, and to be honest, I’m not the type of guy to stand around and let other people solve my problems.”

She picked up her glass of wine and slowly drained it, not flinching from his stare. If he meant to intimidate her, it obviously wasn’t working. He bet nothing and no one got the better of this woman, and her strength only served to interest and excite him more.

“I studied criminology in college before going to the police academy, from which I graduated third in my class,” she said, placing her glass on the counter with exaggerated care. “I spent years working the streets as a beat cop before being promoted to detective and now sergeant. I worked robbery and vice before homicide, and I’ve never had an unsolved case. In short, Mr. Ramsey, this is my
job
.”

Sliding off her stool, she leaned over the counter much as he was so that they were even closer. “How dare you interfere with my investigation?”

“Interfere?” he sneered, unable to contain his anger. It was a safer way to vent his building emotions than to give free rein to his passion. “You call prancing around in leather slut-wear and getting your jollies beating on guys an investigation?”

“I was working undercover, as you damn well know, not playing games. It was you who was acting like a ten-year old, pretending to be a detective working a case. And I’ll tell you something else, boy-o. I wasn’t the one in that room with a raging hard-on the whole time.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I could have cut diamonds with your nipples, they were so hard, and where’d you come up with a name like Mistress Regan anyway? Can you make your head spin?”

He saw the first flash of real anger in her eyes with that question. “It happens to be my actual name,” she replied through gritted teeth.

“Born to be a Dominatrix, heh?” He couldn’t resist teasing her and was rewarded with seeing her fury mount.

“Born to be a royal pain in the ass, were you,
Kyle
?” Her face came closer to his. Her hot breath, tinged with the Chablis, wafted over to him. “You’ve got two seconds to come completely clean with me about what you know of Bennington’s murder, or I swear to God, I’ll haul that painful ass of yours—pun intended—down to the station.”

“I’ve told you what I know. My visit to the club was my way of digging into Jazz’s life to help find his killer.”

“Not. Your. Job!”

“He was my friend. No, he was like a brother to me, and I can’t just sit around while his killer runs free.”

His chest heaved, and it wasn’t with desire, it was with the sudden grief that welled up and threatened to swamp him. What he said was true. He couldn’t do simply nothing. It wasn’t in his nature. He was always the one to take charge, to solve problems. Now, when it counted most, was not the time to shy away from duty and let others do the work.

Regan, not the Dominatrix but the woman and the cop, dropped her gaze and nodded her head. “I understand your sense of frustration and your desire to do something.” Shaking her head this time, she looked him in the eye again. “But this is not a legal case. It’s a murder. And it’s happening not in a court room, but in the world of a serial killer. This woman has already butchered at least two men. If you don’t stay out of it, you could be the next victim.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I bet your friend, Jazz, could, too,” she replied in a low voice laced with empathy.

Now it was his turn to look away. “He could, and he would have if he had known the danger he was in.”

He didn’t see the hand reaching out to him until it touched his face. Warm, soft fingers caressed his jaw. “I’m sorry, and I’m sick over what happened to him. You have to trust me. I’m going to find his killer.”

Kyle closed his eyes, enjoying Regan’s touch before he gave her the hard truth. “I can’t trust you. I don’t trust anyone except myself to do a job right.” The soothing touch stopped abruptly. When he opened his eyes again, she was walking away, toward the front door. Kyle hustled from his kitchen to intercept her. “You’re leaving?”

She gave him a baleful look. “There doesn’t seem to be any point to staying. While I believe you when you say you haven’t kept any information from me, it’s also clear you intend to stick your nose into my investigation no matter what I say. You’ll either end up in protective custody or dead.”

She shrugged, as if to say she didn’t care which, but he could tell she did. Her cheeks were flushed, and her pupils were big. It could have been simply anger. He was betting it was something else entirely.

“Are you off duty, now?” he asked with deceptive mildness.