Strictly Yours: Hooded Pleasures, Book 3 (5 page)

“Look.” He took her hands in his. “I know I’m pushing my limits here, but I care about you.”

Way more than I should.

“I saw your eyes. I saw your reaction. Whatever it is, you don’t need to carry this weight alone. I don’t want you to if I can possibly help it.”

Danielle bit down on her lower lip, gnawing on the delicate skin.

He saw the emotional shell begin to crack, pulling apart under his gentle interrogation.

“Please.” Nathan ran a finger along her cheekbone, turning her to face him. “Please let me help you if I can.”

Her lips parted, and for a second, he thought about moving in to kiss her, push away the fear with the raw emotion he felt for her.

“I’m fi—” The stoic response started.

She stopped.

She sighed, giving up the battle. “I’m not fine.”

He felt a surge of relief at her confession. “What I can do?” Nathan picked up an energy bar and bit off a small part before offering her the rest. “There’s got to be some way I can help.”

She took the bar and nibbled on the edge.

He waited, not wanting to push her.

When you’re ready, I’ll be here.

They sat in silence for a full minute.

Nathan didn’t hold his breath but he didn’t move, afraid anything he did or said would tip her over the edge one way or another.

Danielle pressed her lips into a straight line. “I’m not sure if it’s against the rules or not.” She finished off the energy bar and balled the wrapper in one hand. “Technically, I guess it’s on the line.”

“I won’t tell,” Nathan offered. He drew an X on his bare chest. “Cross my heart.” He gave her a flirty wink. “You know I can keep a secret.”

She tilted her head to one side and laughed.

Nathan felt the tension ease away, as much as she was prepared to give and he was willing to take.

Gotcha.

She rubbed the back of her neck. “Okay. I guess you’re the right person to talk to this about because you’re a policeman.”

“I’m not fixing your parking tickets,” Nathan deadpanned, keeping the smile on her face. “And don’t ask me about concert tickets. I’ve got no pull in that department.”

She cleared her throat as her cheeks turned a light red. “I guess if we’re doing this, I have to be honest with you. My name isn’t Danielle. I mean, it is, but only when I’m on HP business.”

Oh.

He wasn’t surprised at the revelation. In his line of work, people switched names all the time. Work names, play names, street names. Didn’t matter which side of the fence you were on, whatever name people knew you by carried power.

Telling someone your real name was like giving away a small piece of yourself.

Honesty was a gift no matter where and who you were.

Nathan felt like a very lucky man.

He smiled. “You don’t look like a Danielle anyway.”

Jen felt better even though she hadn’t done anything yet other than reveal she’d been using a stage name.

In this area, Hooded Pleasures left it up to the individual, letting her decide what worked best. Some people liked having an alias, claiming it made it easier to divide their professional and personal lives.

Some liked it because it added another dimension of naughtiness to the fun. It was like wearing a mask or a hood, a wig or maybe different colored contact lenses to allow them to slip into the Domme persona easier. There were those who created entire wardrobes and personas to put on when they went out—not so different from anyone else headed for a club.

In her case, it was easier to work as Danielle and go back to Jennifer when she was in scrubs and at work. It was her way of keeping the two worlds separate.

She wasn’t embarrassed of what she did. It was simply a case of keeping the files apart in her mind, not mixing the two. She enjoyed her time at the club as a Domme and her appointments with her HP clients as Danielle, and when she went home and took off her clothes, her persona went with it. Nothing confusing about it.

She’d never worried about the two colliding, crashing together in an explosion rocking her mind and body.

Until now.

Sitting next to Nathan, she picked up the cell phone and studied the message again as he waited for her next move.

It didn’t make the contents any less terrifying.

“I—” She paused, momentarily frozen in place.

“It’s okay.” Nathan put his hand on her knee. “I’m not going anywhere. When you’re ready to talk, I’m here.” He looked at the phone. “I guess it has to do with that, right?”

Jen nodded. “As you’ve probably guessed, we’re not allowed to take calls while we’re working.”

His reassuring nod kept her talking.

“I usually check in to see if there’s any texts after we’re finished up. You’ve seen me do it.”

“I have,” Nathan said quietly.

She held out the phone and showed him the text.

“This came in a half hour ago. I just read it now.”

The caller identification read Colleen.

The text itself was plan enough.

Incident at clinic. Drunken fight at bar; both fools came in and decided to continue in lobby. Idiots taken down by guard and police. Wanted to tell you before you saw it on news and freaked out. Not Tanner. NOT Tanner. See you tonight. Love you, Colleen.

Nathan scanned it.

“Okay. A situation. But it’s all over. You’ll have to explain why you’re having a bad reaction to all this. Who is this Tanner?”

“He’s—” She paused. “I’m not sure where to start.”

He squeezed her knee. “Let’s take it from the top.” He pointed at himself. “I’m Nathan. And you are—”

She couldn’t hold back a smile. “My real name is Jennifer. I only use Danielle when I’m out as a Domme.”

“Jennifer. I like it. It suits you.” Nathan’s tone was soft and casual. “Not that there’s anything wrong with Danielle. Where did you get that from?” He opened a fresh drink and offered the full can to her.

The simple question soothed her. “A romance novel I read back in my teens. One of the first real serious books I signed out from the library.” She took it from him and sipped the cool liquid. “A historical romance, to be exact. One of those where the duke is searching for his perfect mate and finds one in the scullery maid.” She frowned, trying to recall the book. “I think she was his childhood friend who he’d forgotten while off at school. Something like that.”

Nathan chuckled. “Sounds like a good book. Do you prefer Jen or Jennifer?”

She frowned. “Jen, please. Jennifer makes me sound old.” She forced herself to laugh. “I don’t think anyone calls me that other than my parents and the government.”

“For me, it’s the other way around.” He took the drink from her. “No one calls me Nate. It’s always been Nathan. Guess I don’t look like a Nate.” He squinted as he looked at her. “You’re definitely a Jen. Can’t see Jennifer.” A mischievous grin appeared. “And now I’ll never see Danielle.”

She frowned. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or bad.”

He smiled. “I’m more than happy with Jen. It’s a lovely name.”

He fell silent, leaving it up to her as to where to take the conversation.

You opened this door.

Time to walk on through.

He’s a cop. He can help.

All you need to do is ask.

“This Tanner man. He’s a guy from my past, from years ago. Before all—” Jen waved her hands over her corset and Nathan’s nakedness. “All this.”

“Okay.” He gave her a comforting smile. “Okay. I’m listening.”

It was like someone had tossed a bucket of cold water over her, killing off any residual pleasure from the session with Nathan. For his part, he sat still beside her, the dark green blanket on his bare shoulders as she struggled to find the words to explain her past and how it had collided with her present.

Their present
, her inner voice reminded her.

You opened this Pandora’s Box. There’s no going back now.

Your relationship with Nathan will never be the same again.

She felt strangely reassured at the unspoken fact.

Jen ran her hands over her legs, brushing them over the nylons. “I work at an all-night medical clinic as a receptionist.” She pointed at the phone. “Colleen’s the doctor I work with. There’s another woman, a night nurse. Usually April.”

Nathan nodded, staying silent.

“I do the midnight shift. I’ve alw
ays been a night owl, so it suited me.” She swept a hand in front of her. “It makes this a bit easier.”

“I’ve always loved the night shift,” he murmured.

She felt some of the tension in her shoulders shift at the shared experience.

“The majority of our business is people looking for medical treatment who don’t want to or can’t go to a doctor’s office. And when the hospital looks too busy or too far away, we’re a good option.” She paused. “We offer referrals to women’s shelters, to rehab, to places for those who need help far beyond what we can offer.”

Nathan nodded, staying silent.

She continued, grateful for the chance to explain it out loud.

To herself. To him.

“It was a couple of years ago. Three o’clock in the morning. Woman came in with a black eye, broken cheekbone. It wasn’t hard to figure out she’d been abused. She admitted it after a few questions.” She let out her breath slowly. “She’d had enough of her husband hitting her and wanted to leave.” Jen brushed a wayward strand of hair behind her right ear. “Sharon came to us while he was sleeping off a drinking binge after the latest fight. It was her chance to escape. She knew he’d go to the hospital when he woke up and saw she was gone. That’s why she came to the clinic. Buy more time. Colleen wasn’t the doctor on duty back then. It was Gwen, and she convinced the woman to stay with us while we contacted a shelter, and then we’d send her over in a taxi.”

“Then the asshole woke up,” Nathan said. “Tanner.”

“Yes. He woke up not long after she left the house, but he started his search at the hospital. By the time he got to the clinic, it was about five o’clock, and we’d packed her off in a cab a good half hour earlier. He saw her car in the parking lot, demanded we bring her out, threatened us if we didn’t hand her over. He didn’t know she was gone from the clinic, and we didn’t tell him.”

Jen stopped, the memory choking her words.

“Did you call the police?”

“Gwen hit the panic button as soon as we figured out who he was.” The question forced her onward. “Bastard brought in a crowbar from his car, waved it around. Demanded we bring her out or tell him where she was. Thank God we didn’t have any other patients at the time.”

“Did he hurt you?” The words came out from between Nathan’s clenched teeth.

“No.” She put her hand on the side of her head. “I was fine. He hit Daisy, the nurse though—she needed stitches. Bad concussion.”

“Was there a night guard?”

“No. We have one now. He was waving the crowbar and—” She broke off, lost in the memory. “He came over to me after dropping Daisy and pointed it at me, screaming. Then he spun around as the first police car came into the parking lot.” Jen shook her head. “I couldn’t let it go into a hostage situation. I couldn’t.”

“What did you do?”

She couldn’t hold back a grin at the memory. “I grabbed his arm, spun him around. Punched him in the face, made him drop the weapon. A good solid hit. Broke his nose.” Jen pulled her fingers into a fist and showed it to him. “Got a clear shot and took it. Then the cops arrived and it was all over except for the hospital and the courts.”

“That was dangerous,” he admonished her. “You know that.”

“So I was told. Repeatedly. But I had the chance, and I took it. You understand.”

“I do.”

Jen looked into his eyes and saw he did.

The revelation soothed the raw wounds reopened so recently.

“He went to jail.” Nathan nudged. “Right?”

“He pleaded guilty and got five years. Got out on early parole recently.” She glanced at the phone. “This thing at the clinic. It wasn’t him, it wasn’t anything to do with him, but coming right on the heels of this asshole getting out—”

“She wanted to tell you before it hit the wires. I get it.”

Jen nodded. “You do.”

Nathan stared at Jen. “I understand. Now let me ask. What can I do for you?”

She paused, feeling the surge of emotions threatening to sweep the last of her reservations away.

He was her client.

Not her boyfriend.

Not her lover.

Maybe a good friend, but nothing more.

No matter what her heart was yelling in her ear.

She might have already gone too far—

“What can I do?” he repeated, the soft and steady tone soothing her frazzled nerves.

“This man. The one who attacked us, the one I hit. I want to believe he’s changed but—” Jen shook her head. “I keep looking in the shadows, afraid he’s going to come back for me.”

“He was angry with you. Upset for interfering with his domestic bliss. For helping his wife leave him.”

There was no question in Nathan’s words.

“He was.” Jen flashed back to the trial. “It went to trial because he wanted to plead not guilty. The Crown said it was a slam dunk thanks to Daisy’s injury and the whole thing was caught on our security camera. Sharon, his wife, testified against him as well. But Tanner thought he’d be a tough guy and fought every inch of the way. Got himself a cheap lawyer and tried to say I attacked him when he came in, worried about his dear spouse who had hurt herself in a drunken fog. Then, when he saw that wasn’t working, he got upset and cursed at me, swung his arms around and the bailiffs dragged him out.” She swallowed hard. “Of course they found him guilty. But I hope he’s changed, that he wanted to change once he cleared his head and saw what he’d done. To Daisy, to Sharon.” She looked at Nathan.

Nathan nodded. “He could change. People do come out of prison rehabilitated, or at least scared straight enough to keep out of trouble. If he’s been going to therapy, there’s a chance he’s repented.” Nathan drew a deep breath. “I can’t tell you if he has or hasn’t. But I can tell you that you can’t spend the rest of your life being afraid of him.” He gestured at the phone. “But if you hear from him, if you see him, you let me know, and I’ll take care of things.” The coldness in his eyes startled her, the simmering rage reminding her, after all was said and done, he was a policeman.