White Collared Part Two: Greed (8 page)

Eve smiled at her. “I can smell it from here. Sweet.”

Jax tightened his grip on her. “I’m sorry. I don’t share Katerina.”

A pout replaced Eve’s smile. Master Graham patted her on her back. “Now, Kitten, every sub has her hard limits. Just because you got to play with Alyssa—”

Jax’s spine grew rigid. “Alyssa? She played with Alyssa? When?”

Master Graham’s face scrunched with confusion. “When Alyssa came to stay with us. The weekend you arranged for her.”

“You must be mistaken.” Jax’s hand dropped from her skin to touch his wedding ring. “I didn’t arrange anything for my wife.”

“You must have. The e-mails were signed with your name. Are you telling me you didn’t board Alyssa at my home six months ago?”

“That’s precisely what I’m saying,” Jax said, his hand slipping from the ring to clench into a fist.

If Jax hadn’t sent the e-mails, who had? Alyssa? Or had it been the elusive “Master” Mistress Casey had mentioned?

Master Graham removed the leash from Eve’s collar. “Kitten, dear, why don’t you head to the Freeway? I’ll come get you in a little bit.”

The blond bounced on her toes. “Yes, Master.” She skipped across the room, her tail wagging behind her.

Now Kate could see that the tail wasn’t attached to her panties, as Kate had assumed, but to the thick, black butt plug in her ass.

Ouch.

When the door closed, Jax and Master Graham sat on the chairs. Jax pointed to the floor. She kneeled beside him, her hands clasped behind her back. A thousand questions raced in her mind. Would he give her permission to speak?

Jax palmed the back of her neck. The subtle touch was all she needed to reassure her. “Eric, I promise, I never sent a single e-mail to you. You said someone pretending to be me set up a weekend at your home?”

“Yes. The e-mails said you were going out of town and wished to board her with me for a weekend. She spent most of the time in her cage with Eve, cuddling and playing,” he said in a reminiscent tone.

Jax scowled. “Did you fuck my wife?”

Master Graham placed a hand on his chest. “Of course not. I don’t have sex with my kittens.”

Before she could stop herself, she asked, “Then why do you keep them?” Her submissive and lawyer parts warred with one another. She wasn’t supposed to speak without Jax’s permission, but she couldn’t keep her mouth shut either. In a compromise, she kept her gaze on the floor.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Master Graham looking at Jax for permission to answer her question and Jax nodding. “I give them a home. Safety. Food. They wish to live their lives as pets, and I provide them the means to do so. My wife and I enjoy watching our kittens frolic. It brings us pleasure.”

“Do you still have the e-mails?” she asked.

“I’m sure I can find them,” he said.

“Could you please forward them to me? I’ll leave my e-mail at the front desk.”

“Of course,” Eric replied. “I should tell you, Alyssa did spend a considerable amount of time here with a sadist by the name of Anthony Rinaldi.”

“The mobster?” Jax asked. “I wasn’t aware he was a member.”

“He and I don’t run in the same circles, but I’ve heard rumblings that he has a difficult time honoring his masochists’ limits. The few times he’s gotten caught going too far, he’s claimed not to have heard the safe word, and, unfortunately, his masochists back him up. None of this occurred at Benediction, but Master Cole agreed to allow Rinaldi membership only on the condition that he’d be monitored at all times.”

What kind of bastard would ignore a safe word? Someone who’d find pleasure in killing?

“I’ll have my legal team look into it,” Jax said grimly.

Master Graham stood. “I should check that Kitten made it safely to the Freeway.”

“What is the Freeway?” she asked, her curiosity too great to remain quiet. What did it matter at this point? She’d already broken one of Jax’s rules.

“The Freeway is a room where anything goes,” Master Eric said dreamily. “The space remains dark. Each participant wears a glow-in-the-dark mask. There’s also a lit basket on a table with condoms and lubes. You don’t know who is touching you. Man, woman . . . you open yourself up to a world of possibilities. The Freeway erases mental roadblocks, allowing you to experience arousal without societal constraints.”

Kate shivered. Despite her head telling her an orgy was wrong, her body disagreed, her nipples pebbling and hot arousal dripping down her slit.

Had Jax and Alyssa ever participated? She couldn’t imagine a possessive Jax enjoying anyone touching what he considered to be his. Is that the room he’d alluded to earlier?

When Master Eric left to find his kitten, Jax pulled her onto his lap. “You broke protocol again. You know what that means?”

She shook her head. Would he fire her as his submissive?

“Punishment,” he said. “Tell me what you did wrong.”

“I spoke without permission. I’m sorry, Jax—”

He pressed his fingertips to her lips. “When we’re at Benediction or in a scene, I expect you to remain quiet. You should have asked me for permission before questioning Eric. Good thing I introduced you as my sub-in-training or you would’ve completely blown your cover. Now pull up your skirt and bend forward, placing your hands on the wall in front of you for support.”

He couldn’t be serious. He was going to spank her as her punishment? If he spanked her each time she did something wrong, she’d break the rules every chance she got.

She moved into position and waited for the heat of his hands on her ass.

“I’m going to give you five.”

The sound of his hand smacking her ass resounded in the small room. Unlike the earlier spanking, he didn’t warm her up. Didn’t rub the area. Didn’t attempt to arouse her. Just hit her five times in succession, leaving both her butt and her pride sore.

When it was over, he tugged down her skirt and turned her. “I’m proud of you. Proud you took your punishment without complaint. And proud the woman inside of you cared enough to risk punishment in order to ask the questions that needed asking.”

The scent of pine enveloped her as he cupped her face in his palms and kissed her, his lips soft and warm. The kiss was slow. Indulgent. Controlled. But no less passionate than their earlier frantic coupling. His kiss and careful touch reassured her that she hadn’t disappointed him in breaking protocol. If she had to break the rules again, she would.

For Jax.

Anything for Jax.

And that scared her more than any punishment ever would.

Chapter Nine

Ten Days to Elections
. . .

S
ITTING AT HER
cubicle, Kate sipped her store-bought cappuccino, grateful for once that she didn’t have to drink the firm’s sludge. Except for a few junior associates trying to impress the partners by working on a Saturday, the office was empty.

Nick had brought her to work, and they’d met with Jaxon over fresh coffee and crullers. They relayed what they’d learned last night from Mistress Casey and Eric Graham about Alyssa’s mysterious “Master.” Following their strongest lead yet, Jaxon had left a message for Master Cole to have Anthony Rinaldi call Kate to set up a session with him. Apparently, the man was into electricity. Hopefully, she’d be able to ask her questions before he did whatever sadistic electrical play entailed.

After, they watched a recording of Nick on the news debating the legal definition of consent. He’d vigorously advocated for Jaxon and championed the rights of people who lived alternative sexual lifestyles against a religious leader, a social worker representing a local domestic violence shelter, District Attorney Ronald Savage, and his opposition for DA, Mason Ford. Despite his best efforts, in one fashion or another, all the other guests agreed a woman could never consent to a “harmful touching” and charges should be brought against Jaxon for battery. Of course they sidestepped the issue raised by Nick as to whether a man could consent.

Kate was in awe of Nick’s gift of the spoken word and the passion he exuded. In the last few days, her attraction to him hadn’t waivered, even as her feelings for Jax took root.

It wasn’t easy to pretend that she didn’t want to strip Jaxon naked and screw on top of the conference room table. The way his gaze burned into her as she spoke about Benediction had her squirming in her chair. So far, Nick hadn’t noticed the sexual tension between her and Jax, but how long until he did? What would he do?

Too wound up from Benediction, she hadn’t slept more than two hours before the alarm woke her. Her dreams were filled with erotic images of her and Jax making love in a room packed with voyeurs.

Even now, her body remained primed and ready for him. Every time she sat on her bruised backside or the silky fabric of her bra brushed against her tender nipples, she was reminded of yesterday. Her pussy had flooded the moment she’d seen him waiting for her and Nick in the firm’s lobby.

Not exactly conducive for staying in a professional state of mind and terribly inappropriate since in an hour she’d accompany him to Alyssa’s funeral.

Thank goodness Nick had given her the assignment of checking the popular fetish website to see if Alyssa had listed a profile. If the Anthony Rinaldi lead didn’t pan out, they’d have to consider the possibility that Alyssa’s murderer didn’t have any connection to Benediction. But after thirty minutes, she hadn’t found any profile matching both Alyssa’s physical description and pain requirements.

She checked her work e-mail and read over the messages forwarded by Eric Graham. Sure enough, they were signed with Jaxon’s name. None of the e-mails provided much information, but she printed them out to show to Jaxon and Nick. Maybe they’d pick up something she missed.

With a few minutes of free time, she finished her coffee and clicked open her personal e-mail account. Her friend Caden had sent her a message asking for her date of graduation so he could make arrangements to come down for a visit. It instantly put a smile on her face.

She wrote him back and told him not only did she expect him to come in for graduation, but she wanted him to consider moving down and staying with her permanently. She had no intention of ever going back home.

Ten pointless e-mails later, she opened one from Facebook that indicated she had a message waiting for her. She clicked on the link to take her directly to the message.

A moment later, her stomach cramped, and her breakfast threatened to reappear.

It was a picture of a naked blond woman bound on the St. Andrew’s cross, red welts from a whip visible on her breasts and legs. Her head hung to the side, her long hair blocking the view of her face. Underneath the photo the message read, “Isn’t Katerina Martini beautiful? You can look, but you can’t touch. She belongs to me.”

She covered her mouth and swallowed back the bile.

Her pills. She needed her pills.

Her hands shaking uncontrollably, she managed to dump a handful in her palm and, using her long nails, pinched two between her fingers and dropped them on her tongue.

The girl’s hair and body were similar enough that anyone else might think it was Kate.

Who sent this and why? To scare her off Jaxon’s case?

The message was private. What purpose did it serve?

Following her intuition, she checked her home page. There on her timeline was that same picture, but the message was different. “Hit me with your best shot.”

There were more pictures. A deer lying on a field of tall yellow grass, its glassy eyes frozen in death. A familiar brand of rifle. Her graduation photo from her senior yearbook. And from an old newspaper, her father, dressed in his Sunday best, in front of the town hall.

He’d gotten an award for saving the life of the mayor’s prized hunting dog, which had fallen through the ice of the lake. Later he’d told her he didn’t deserve an award for doing what was right. Even at that young age, she’d understood her father was special. That most people wouldn’t have risked their own life for a dog.

Someone had hacked into her account, making it appear as if she had posted the pictures.

Was the e-mail from her mystery caller?

Whoever it was knew more than just her former name. While her juvenile file was sealed, the story had run in the newspaper. The media kept her name out of it, but it didn’t take a genius to infer who had made the fatal shot that day.

“Whoa, is that you?” a male voice asked from behind her.

Her heart leapt to her throat.

She minimized the screen and twisted around in her chair.

Logan stood over her, dressed in sweats. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.” He grabbed a chair from another desk, dragged it over, and plopped down. “What the hell were you looking at?”

She tried playing it casual, forcing a smile and waving her hand. “Someone hacked my Facebook account. I’ll just delete it. No big deal. I’ve got only fifty Facebook friends anyway.”

With a narrowed gaze and seriousness she’d never seen in him, he leaned forward. “That wasn’t the typical ‘click here to see who’s spreading rumors about you’ virus. Can I see it?”

What did she know about this man? “Logan, really. I doubt . . .”

“I promise you can trust me, Kate. My undergraduate was in computer science, and I’ve been running my own software company since I was sixteen.”

“You’re not a typical computer geek.”

He rested back in his chair and folded his arms. “And what is the typical computer geek in your book?”

“You know. Introverted, playing video games, glasses.” In other words, the opposite of the hot military man sitting in front of her.

He smiled, showing off the slight gap between his two front teeth, which somehow made him more adorable. “You just described me as a teenager. The only thing that’s changed is now I wear contact lenses, and rather than play video games, I design military strategy games to teach survival and combat skills to our armed forces.”

He must earn good money selling his programs to the military. The criminal law intern was attractive, intelligent, and wealthy. And more importantly, he wasn’t her boss or her client. Why couldn’t she have fallen for
him
?