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"No, you don't. You do have some raisins that look about two years old. I pitched them before you poison yourself."
"Did you bring a toothbrush in one of those grocery bags, too?" She asked archly.
Mac grinned, bent down and kissed her cheek, didn't appear at all surprised when she turned and bit his throat. "A good slave is always well prepared."
"Smooth talker."
When he went back to the sink, she indulged herself in breaking off a piece. "You're dangerous to have around, Nighthorse. I'm going to have to spend all my time in the gym."
"You can work out with me, sugar. I'll keep you in shape."
She rolled her eyes at him, then abruptly sat up straight in her chair. "Mac, that's it. The gym. That's where I saw Rodriguez. The guys who visit the clubs like The Zone, particularly subs, they're workout-aholics. Maybe...what if your perp scopes them out at The Zone, notes the bag they carry in and out of the club? It's what most of us use to bring our change of clothes. Most of them have the logo of whatever the fitness club is. All she'd have to do is notice that, get herself a guest membership to that gym, stake out the parking lot a few days, show up on a night he's there.
"A guest membership is just a slip of paper, with no name on it," she continued, thinking hard, "So it gives her an excellent cover. She initiates a contact, gets to know him, lets him know by the vibes she's a Dom, wires into that part of him, wins his trust and--"
"Bingo," Mac said softly. "She has her victim, without ever having been seen together at The Zone, where she first selected him. Possibly not even the same place as the other vics, if they all had different workout memberships. And a gym is a meat market. Defenses are down, open to physical contact and stimulation."
He pursed his lips, nodded, pulled out his cell phone, dialed. "Consuela. Mac. Do me a favo
r, sugar. See if the workout clubs of our bondage vics keep any kind of guest membership rosters, and if there's any record of our victims visiting there with a guest in the past couple months. I've got a good tip. I think it will pan out." His eyes shifted to Violet, who picked up her orange juice, set it back down. "Just leave what you find on my voice mail. Appreciate it."
He disconnected, studied Violet who was staring moodily now at her plate. "What's bothering you, sugar?" he reached out, covered her hand on the table.
"Her." She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm going to sound stupid and naive, and I'm not."
"No, you're not," he agreed. "So nothing you're going to say is going to sound that way. Tell me."
Violet rose, went to her window, stared out through the sheer panel. "It offends me," she said at last. "Deeply. I... To be given the trust of a sub... every Mistress, every Master longs for that. It's a gift beyond comprehension to the vanilla world. Maybe even to subs. From what you told me, this isn't a random one night fuck, two people just living on the edge. She chooses a careful sub, a person who lives his life in a moral, responsible way. She wins his trust, builds that bond. She likely achieves that gift. And I think that's when she does it. That horrifies me." She turned to face him, raised her chin. "Now you can tell me I'm being too sensitive, too green."
He shook his head. "I've worked on this case for over two months. When I leave you, I go to the station, stare at the pictures, try to connect the dots and sack out in the break room. I'm pouring my soul into this one. For the same reason you feel as you do now. I understand the deep breach, the line she's broken, and it hits very close to home. It was a bond of trust, and that trust should never be betrayed."
Icy fear touched her abruptly at the flash of anger in his tone. "Mac, you aren't...I'm the only Dom you're involved with right now."
"I told you, I don't--"
"I wasn't questioning your fidelity. I meant for your job." She came to him. With him sitting, she had a slight height advantage to stare hard into his face, try to impose her will on him through sheer determination. "Your undercover work."
"Yes, right now. There hasn't been a need to branch out, because I felt hooking up with a well-connected Dom in the scene would be enough, and I've been just trawling through on my off nights, watching the rooms and the action, trying to make connections. And see some connection I've missed," he added quickly, at her narrowed eyes.
"You won't go there alone anymore."
"Violet," he scraped back the chair, stood. "This is my job."
"And it's your ass you're carrying around, and it belongs to me."
She was riding on fear, because she could see clearly what he did not seem to. No safe words, no boundaries.
Silver eyes could become steel very quickly, she found, and she remembered the expression on his face when he had wanted to go after Jonathan, that first night. And the picture in the paper. The unbridled fury wasn't there, but the icy edge of danger was.
"Careful, sugar. There's a big difference between a sexual submissive and a lap dog. I don't take orders from anyone but the sergeant when it comes to my job."
"No," she shook her head, staving off his annoyed response. "She knows what she's doing, and as a sub, you could be vulnerable to that."
"Violet, I've been on the force for twenty years--"
"But you're too close to it--"
"And I'm with you," he finished, startling her into silence with the forceful statement. "I'm with you," he said, more softly, touching her face.
