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“There’s our connection,” Dean said, invigorated. “That’s how the therapists tie into all of this. They’re helping brainwash the women.”
“It’s not enough for warrants,” Samuel griped like he’d just missed winning the lottery by one number.
“But now we have solid confirmation on how the whole thing fits together, Sammy. Now we start stacking the deck.”
Kimberly wrinkled her brow at the two of them.
“Do you two always talk in TV cop? Is it like a code? Because it’s not a very clever one.”
“Brat is right,” Samuel said, but he said it with appreciation, so Kimberly arched her brow at him regally.
“Didn’t you two already know this anyway?” she interjected. “Isn’t that why you were in both places already?”
“Yes, we had the pieces,” Dean said. “You just confirmed why they weren’t fitting together. At first, we thought maybe there was some sort of pay-off going on. A client list being sold. Then when no evidence of that surfaced, we moved onto a plant, someone picking out the vulnerable, then thinning them from the herd. We hadn’t gotten to the therapists doing more than just handing off their clients. Digging into their psyches and turning them into accomplices in their own kidnappings? That’s some next-level shit.”
Tears filled Kimberly’s eyes, but she firmed her chin to keep it from trembling. She stared at the incredible view before her and saw none of its glory.
“You couldn’t have seen this that night, Kimberly.” It was Samuel who said it, but Dean made an agreeing noise. “Think about if you were the one missing and Shawna was here. Would you want her blaming herself? You were drunk before she told you, right?”
Kimberly nodded. “Yes, but—”
Dean cut in, “And she told you everything after she’d already come to terms with it all and was happy with her decisions. Try to remember that night authentically. How did she sound about it all? How did you feel for her at the time?”
Kimberly nodded, sniffed, and used one of the takeout napkins to dab at her leaky eyes. They were right. She’d been so happy for her friend… and intrigued.
“Okay, that’s true, I guess,” she said. “Shawna was over-the-moon excited. Thought she was beyond in love and that the guy had unlocked her sexuality. Helped her truly open up, she said, you know, sex with no inhibitions, no guilt. No holds barred. The way she described it, it sounded hot.”
“Do we need to keep discussing how this isn’t your fault?” Samuel asked in a teasingly affectionate way. “Because we can, but personally though, I think you’re smart enough that you’ve got it by now.”
She knew they had a point, and once Shawna was safe, she might be able to convince her heart. For right now, she tucked her guilt away. That too was something she could deal with once this was all over.
“Okay, what else?” Kimberly wiped what she swore would be the last of her tears away.
Dean looked at his watch. “We’ll have more questions, but for now, we need to move on to the second part of why we asked you here tonight.”
Kimberly thought this was hardly the time to ask for a threesome and wondered if the FBI gave classes on compartmentalization.
“We would like you to work with us on the case. In the club as my sub.” Dean looked straight into her eyes, neither unabashed nor flirtatious. He just looked deadly serious.
“I thought you wanted me to stay away?” she asked in a hoarse whisper, thinking about how close she’d come to being a statistic.
“I did,” he answered her with a wry expression on his handsome face. “If I had it my way, all our scenes would be done here, far away from where those nasty bastards could ever lay eyes on you.”
Kimberly thrilled at the mention of “our scenes,” like it was a foregone conclusion that they would be having more. It loosened a tight knot of tension she hadn’t been aware of in her chest.
“But because of the attention from last night”—she felt her lashes flutter as she tried to keep eye contact and failed—“you want me back.”
“Yes.” Dean’s voice was gruff with determination. “Let me make my stance on this clear. It’s not just mine. This is backed by the FBI, Kimberly, okay? You are to go in, do a scene, and then go home. Sam or I will walk you to your car. You won’t speak with any of the other Doms. As my sub, it’ll be a rule they’ll understand. You can talk to the other subs, but don’t ask them questions about the missing women or the case. We’re already on thin ice over the first two nights you were asking about Shawna.”
“I didn’t get to ask much, if that helps,” Kimberly said, humbled. “So, what? I just go in, have sex with you, then leave? That’s it?” She didn’t know if she was aghast or turned on. When the two men eyed each other uncomfortably, she decided to go with aghast.
“Now?” Kimberly demanded and flipped her hands up in the air. “Now, you’re gonna ask me for a threesome? When it’s my civic duty? This is just how my life goes. There’s never a silver lining without a frickin’ storm cloud.” She glowered at them. Why couldn’t they have asked over moonlight and champagne? Kimberly screwed her lips to one side in a Lucille Ball expression she perfected as a child, and she thought to herself, at least she had two Rickys.
“Not exactly.” Dean didn’t quite laugh, but there was humor in his expression. “We do want your permission to have Sammy involved in some of the scenes though. We want to at least give the impression that I share you with him in private. That’s the reason I let him put his hands on you last night and the reason I want to make sure you’re all right with maneuvers like that going forward.”
“Why?” Kimberly wanted to know. “So he can get the same clout you get from me?” She had to admit—it didn’t hurt the ego when they nodded.
“Pretty much,” Dean agreed. “The important thing is you’re going to stay out of the investigation as much as possible. Once the scene is over, we’re going to get you out of there as fast as we can.”
