Too Close (2 page)

 
Kane switched gears as he flipped through the last batch of pictures from Yardley’s crime scene. “With each robbery, the victim is bound in a different and more creative way. And even when she uses a silk tie or an electrical cord to bind them, there’s never a mark or bruise left behind.”

“That’s not much to go on after four robberies in ten months.” Jack shook his head and leaned forward to tap his pencil on the photo of Edward Yardley’s bound wrists. “Tell me about these ones.”

“These ones are beauty. She used a twelve-foot section of climbing rope this time. Forearms and wrists were bound to the chair in such a way the guy didn’t have a clue what he was getting into until he tried to stand up and realized that not only was he bound, but he was stuck there until someone else came along.” He met his friend’s gaze. “A clear example of Shibari.”

“You an expert on bondage now?”

“No, but I showed the crime scene photographs to that guy you found online, the Bondage instructor, and he says it’s so.”
 

Jackson shook his head, smirk still peaking out from under his Fu-Manchu style mustache. “Did they lift anything from the rope?”

Kane heaved a sigh of frustration. “No hair or skin, just a piece of fiber. They’re looking into it, but I’m not holding my breath.”
 

“So you get to cruise the local adult playgrounds looking for a sexy babe that likes to get kinky, but isn’t so kinky she’s into pain, while I get to catch up on paperwork.” He shook his head. “Want to trade?”

“Sorry, bud. But I didn’t get myself shot in a drug raid, so I’m not stuck with desk duty. Although, I can say I’m sorry you are since you seem to know all the right places to look for information on bondage knots and that’s the only solid lead I have to follow, so far.”
 

His blood heated and his frustration eased as the thrill of the chase ran through him. It was time to start digging deeper into the sub-culture of alternative lifestyles.

Kane was frustrated as hell.
 

In the past week he’d been to almost every club on the list of ‘adult playgrounds’ Jack had compiled for him.
 
And he’d had absolutely no luck.

Sure, he’d met plenty of people dressed in leather and lace with Goth style makeup and studded collars. A few of them, male
and
female, had even offered to tie him up when he’d hinted at an interest in bondage, but none of them had given him the perp tingle.
 

Pretending to be into the lifestyle had gotten him nowhere, and after double-checking the knots and restraints from the Yardley photos he knew that RR wasn’t just playing at bondage. The particular way things had been done had led them to learn more about bondage, and Shibari in particular. The more he learned, the more he realized that the woman knew what she was doing.

Shibari was more than just tying someone up, or even the way the knots were done. It originated with the Japanese and is considered an art. With the restraints being done in different designs meant to be effective, pleasing to the eye, and pleasing to the recipient, it wasn’t something just anyone could do. And while RR wasn’t binding the victim’s genitals, as seemed to be a common thing in Shibari, she was certainly doing more than simply ‘tying them up’.
 

With three more clubs on the list, he’d decided to try talking openly with the owner of the next club as a cop. Straight out.
 

He parked in front of The O Club, and sighed. Jack said that the O stood for anything from ‘Orgasms’ to ‘Oh My God!’
 

Great, just what he needed… a club that couldn’t even decide what its name stood for.
 

He shook off his frustration and headed for the entrance.
 

“Sorry. We’re closed to the public tonight, sir.” A tall slim blonde dressed in all black stepped in front of the doors, stopping him. A female doorman
 
— doorperson?
   

Kane smiled and flashed his badge. “I’d like to speak with the owner if he’s here.
 

The woman’s expression didn’t change but she stepped to the side and opened the door for him. Kane glanced at the man standing a couple feet away, also dressed all in black, who was now speaking quietly into a two-way radio.
 

It was just after eight in the evening, and Kane hadn’t expected the club to be busy, but finding it closed was interesting.
 

Kane stopped just inside the doors and let his eyes adjust to the dark room. Dull golden lights gleamed behind a long wooden bar that stretched the length of the room, making the various bottles of liquor sparkle and shine like a rainbow. The club was empty except for one guy behind the bar and a couple waitresses in skimpy shiny black outfits seated there, all with their heads turned in the same direction.
 

A loud slap echoed through the air, followed by a slight moan, and Kane’s eyes flew over the couches and overstuffed chairs that were arranged throughout the club to the far wall.

There, on a stage than ran the length of the back wall, was a naked woman bent over what looked like a padded sawhorse. Blond curls fell forward to obscure her features, but tension was clear in the lines of her body. Yet, as he studied the scene, the tension somehow announced itself as excitement, not fear.
 

Kane watched closely as a shirtless man in leather pants, hauled back his arm and smacked the pink cheeks of her rump with a paddle of some sort. A loud crack echoed through the club, and Kane realized just how quiet it was in the dark cavernous room. Unable to stop himself, he inched closer to the stage.
 

When a third person stepped out of the shadows cast by the cage at the end of the stage, Kane’s mind went blank.
 

She was beautiful.
 

The woman was wearing the most basic clothes. Low slung faded jeans with rips in the knees, and a white ribbed cotton wife-beater tank top. Dark hair, with a tinge of red under the lights, was pulled back in a ponytail, which gave him a clear view of her features. Fair skin, dark brows, dark eyes, and full luscious lips that, even from a distance, made his cock wake up and say hello.
 

Kane’s blood heated as he watched her take the paddle from the guy’s hand, step behind the naked girl and swing it.
 

Three times in smooth even strokes, each swat landing on the girls rump at a different angle. She handed the paddle back to the man in leather then smoothed her bare hand over the girls flaming ass cheeks, talking to him the whole time.

She was teaching him how to spank that girl!

Blood raced south and Kane forced himself to think about hockey stats for a minute. It had been too long since he’d had a good fuck and his body suddenly made him very aware of it.
 

The women in jeans talked softly to the guy as her touch soothed the girl bent over the wooden horse. She leaned forward, placed a soft kiss at the base of the girl’s neck and moved back.

Fighting to get his hormones under control Kane watched her step down off the stage, and sashay straight toward him.
 

“I’m Vanessa Lawson, Officer.” Her husky voice sent a shiver down Kane’s spine as she held out a pale hand with short clear nails, no jewelry. No wedding ring. “I run The O Club. What can I do for you?”

Oooh, he’s a cute one.

Vanessa gave herself a mental head slap and ignored the heat that swept over her as she shook hands with the cop.
Rein in your libido, girl. A cop is not the type of playmate you want.
 

She cocked her head to the side and looked over the man in front of her. With only a few inches on her five-eight frame, she placed him at about five-eleven. Not real tall, but she could tell he had a great body beneath that suit.
 

Wide shoulders filled out the jacket, a firm chest and flat stomach under a cotton button up shirt, and the way his pants draped made it obvious he was in prime physical shape. It also made it obvious he was… interested in what had been happening on the stage. The fact that he didn’t try to hide the slight lift to his zipper, despite his very ‘man-in-charge’ demeanor, gave him major points in her book.

It might be kinda fun to see exactly how he would react to
not
being in charge.

“I’m Detective Kane Michaels, Miss Lawson. I was hoping to speak to the club’s owner. Is he in?”

“
She
leaves the running of the place to me, so if whatever brings you here has to do with the club, then it’s me you want.”
 

He nodded and ran his eyes over her figure. The heat of that gaze washed over her she fought the urge to prop her hands on her hips and thrust out her breasts. She knew she didn’t look like a typical bar manager. With no make-up on, she looked even younger than she was. Between that, and her naturally cocky attitude, most men… hell, most
people
underestimated her.
 

Normally that was a good thing; it gave her an advantage over them, but for some reason it nettled with this guy. She wanted him to see her for the strong, smart, woman she was.

Weird.
 

“Nessa!” Rob called from behind the bar. “O is on the phone, you want me to take a message?”

She glanced over her shoulder at the new bartender and smiled. He was a cutie, and so eager to please. She liked that in a man.

“Please do, Sweetie. I’ll call her back in a little bit.” Nessa waved J.J. over before leading the silent cop to a couple of low chairs and a table. “Let’s have a seat shall we, Detective?”

The waitress arrived just as they sat down. “What can I get for you tonight?”
   

J.J. gave him the flirtatious eye-fuck that left most men either crossing their legs, or drooling, and Vanessa was glad to see that Detective Michaels didn;t even blink before asking for a soda with lime. J.J. left to fill their order with hips swinging and he didn’t even glance at the girls curved butt in her leather short shorts.

Controlled was one thing, but the server’s uniforms weren’t exactly sedate, and it was the first time she’d seen a straight man not react to them. Maybe he was gay? Lord, she hoped not.

“How can I help you, Detective?”

“I’m looking for someone, a woman that’s experienced with bondage, and I was told that I might find her here.”

Vanessa’s pulse jumped and her eyebrows shot upwards. She didn’t bother to hide her surprise, but instead, deliberately gave him a reason for it. “Are you asking me to pimp for you?”

“What? No!” A slight flush crept up his neck, and a small kick of pleasure ran through her. Before he could speak again J.J. was back. She set a wine glass in front of Vanessa and turned to set the soda down.
 

Nessa watched as the waitress flashed him a good deal of the cleavage bulging over her black leather bustier and gave him a wink. He didn’t respond to the flirting and when she stood up, she met Vanessa’s gaze and shrugged as she sauntered away, hips swaying.
 

“As I was saying,” he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and staring at her earnestly. “I’m looking for a woman that’s into bondage, Shibari to be exact. It’s not personal, it’s strictly for a case.”

Vanessa’s insides clenched in a disappointment, then a surge of adrenaline whipped through her. A case, he was working a case. And she bet she knew
 
exactly which one it was.
 

Well, her Dad had always said a good defense was a strong offense.

“That’s too bad, Detective. I’ve a bit of experience with it myself and for a minute there I was imagining just how hot you would look restrained and awaiting my pleasure.” She eyed his sedate suit and tie getup, not bothering to hide the way her gaze lingered on the fabric stretched taut over his muscled thighs.
 

Heat flared in his gaze, but his expression remained blank.
Oooh, a reaction!
 

Nessa’s pleasure at his response was short lived when he said, “I just need a list of names of any female customers that are into that sort of stuff. Anyone who comes to mind that is particularly good with any type of rope or restraint, and, might not have a great fondness for arrogant men.”
 

 
“I’m sorry detective, but many people who live an alternative sexual lifestyle tend to keep it private, and as manager of this club, I respect that.” She set her drink down and stood up, hinting that the conversation was over. It was almost time to open the doors and she still had things to set up.
 

“Surely they’re not that secretive if they hang out it clubs like this?” He stood up as he spoke and remained close enough to Vanessa that she had to fight the urge to touch him.
 

What the hell was wrong with her? This man was trouble, serious trouble, and all she could think about was stripping the suit off and exploring the treasures beneath.
 

It really didn’t help that there was an answering awareness in his own intent gaze. He felt the pull between them too.