Heated

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Venti nonfat latte, right?” the barista asked, and I cringed, just a little.

“I should probably cut back,” I said. “But yes.”

I paid, then scooted over to wait for my drink. And as I did, Kevin came up to me.

“I need to talk to you,” he said.

I gaped at him. “What the hell? Have you been following me?”

“I just need two minutes.”

“Jesus, Kevin. You’re going off the rails.”

“I’m not,” he said, then shoved an envelope into my hands. “That’s everything I have on them, a laundry list of the operations I think they’re involved in.”

My heart pounded in my chest with the rising fear that Tyler—that all of the knights—were in trouble. I worked to stay steady. To not let Kevin see my reaction. Or, if he did, to think it was the thrill of the chase.

“All right,” I said. “I’ll look it over.”

And I would, I thought. Carefully, and with Tyler. And if their asses were hanging out in any way, they could use Kevin’s list as a blueprint for getting clear.

Tyler wasn’t at Destiny when I got there, so I left the envelope in the top drawer of his desk, then headed in to get ready for my shift.

I had on the short shorts and was getting ready to do a circuit, when Cole’s hand clutched tight on my upper arm.

“What the fuck, Sloane?”

“Excuse me?”

“Tyler’s a good man—he trusted you. And that meant we trusted you, too. But dammit, girl, none of us take kindly to being played, Tyler most of all.”

I jerked my arm free. “What are you talking about?”

I had no idea what had sparked this, but it was clear that Cole had a tight rein on the temper I’d seen before. Right then, he looked like he could put a hole through me the same way he put his fist through the hospital wall.

I didn’t know if any of the three had ever killed someone, but in that moment, I was damn sure that Cole was capable.

“Just watch yourself,” he said, then walked away.

“Cole!”

He turned back, his finger held up, his expression so tight I knew he was fighting an explosion.

And then he turned away again and stalked off.

I couldn’t decide if I was pissed that he hadn’t told me the problem, or relieved that he hadn’t pummeled me into dust.

Either way, I wanted to ask Tyler what was going on. I knew that he’d arrived about a half hour before, so hurried to his office and pushed through the door. “What the hell is up with Cole?” I began, but the dark expression on Tyler’s face chilled me.

“What’s up with Cole?” Tyler repeated, bursting to his feet, his face a portrait of anger and hurt. “Maybe the better question is what the hell is up with you.”

“Jesus, you too?” I snapped as confusion and a sick feeling pounded over me. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Cole saw you,” he said. “You’re working with Kevin Warner, that goddamn prick. I trusted you. Hell, Sloane, I love you. How the hell could you—”

“You son of a bitch.” I was beyond furious, and my words came out low and harsh and cold. “You goddamn son of a bitch. You really believe I would betray you? That I was working with Kevin? He’s been dogging me, Tyler. Trying to get me to find dirt on you. And all I’ve done is tell him that you’re clean. I compromised my own fucking values to tell him you’re clean.”

I stalked to his desk and ripped open the drawer. I pulled out the envelope and tossed it in his face. “There. That’s what he has on you. I thought you might find it useful in case you wanted to clean up whatever goddamn mess you’ve gotten yourself into. Fuck,” I added, then slammed my fist down on the desk. “I’m not Amanda, Tyler. I didn’t run to the cops. I’m not betraying you.”

But I couldn’t stay, and without another look back, I ran from the room, grabbed my purse from my locker, and headed back to The Drake, not even bothering to change my clothes.

The shorts and bra-top got a few stares, but I barely noticed, I was still seething too much.

And it wasn’t until I reached the penthouse and was in the bedroom digging workout clothes out of my drawer, that I realized the irony. I’d come here. To the penthouse.

I’d been pissed, and I’d come home. And to me, home was where Tyler was.

How fucked up was that?

I changed into leggings and a sports bra, then called down to the front desk to find out the location of the fitness center. As it turned out, the tenth floor had its own, and I found it easily enough, and was grateful to see it had a punching bag.

I quickly taped my hands, then shoved on some gloves. Then I started to beat the shit out of a bag while a skinny man in headphones jogged on the treadmill, occasionally shooting me concerned glances. I wasn’t surprised. If that bag had been a man, he’d have been dead, several times over.

I’m not sure how long I tortured the bag before the door opened and Tyler eased inside. I saw him approach in the mirror. I didn’t turn.

“Want to take a few swipes at me, too?”

“Hell, yes.”

“We need to talk.”

“We really don’t.”

He moved closer, then reached out and held the bag steady. “We can talk here with an audience or we can go back to the suite. But we are going to talk.”

“Fine.” I headed toward the door, then waited for him to open it as I was still wearing the gloves.

He glanced at them as we walked down the hall. “Planning on punching me?”

“Depends on what you say.”

“I’m apologizing,” he said, and the fist around my heart loosened. “There may even be some groveling.”

I crossed my arms and tilted my head as he opened the door to the suite. “All things considered, yeah. I think groveling is in order.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again once the door closed behind us. “This thing between us—I want it so desperately, but it scares me, too. I told you, I don’t trust easily. And when Cole told me what he’d seen, it was Amanda all over again. I fucked up.”

“You sure did,” I said, then used my teeth to tug off the gloves. I drew in a breath. “Trust has to be mutual. You don’t trust because she betrayed you. But she didn’t trust you, either. She didn’t believe you knew how to handle yourself.

“I don’t trust easily, either,” I said as I uncoiled the tape around my hands. “But I trust you, Tyler. I may not agree with what you do, but I trust you.”

“I trust you, too,” Tyler said. “I do. Despite my very royal fuckup.”

“I know you do,” I said. “I love you, Tyler.” I handed him the tape. I wanted him to really know, to truly understand, how deeply I meant those words. “I love you, and I trust you.”

He cocked his head, obviously unsure. “Sloane. Are you sure?”

“I want it,” I said. “All these years, it’s been in my head. He tied her up. He hurt her. I don’t want that there anymore. I want you. Bind me, Tyler. Bind me, and make love to me, and make the bad stuff go away.”

He scooped me up as if I weighed nothing at all, then carried me to the bedroom and gently laid me on the bed. He got on beside me, then leaned over and kissed me. Soft and gentle at first, and then harder, until the kiss was almost a punishment.

“I want you,” he said. “I need you.”

“I know.” I tightened my arms around him, clutching him tight, wanting more of his kisses, deeper and hotter. “I need you, too.”

“I was afraid, you know. For a moment I was afraid that I’d fucked up beyond repair. That I’d lost you.”

“Never,” I said, and my voice trembled with the truth of it.

Slowly, he peeled off the sports bra, then took my breast in his mouth, one and then the other, suckling each until I felt those sparking threads of sensation shoot all the way from my breasts to my sex. I arched up, wanting more. More of him. Of his touch, of everything.

“Sit up,” he said. “And scoot back.”

I did, and ended up sitting upright against a pillow that Tyler had placed against the wrought-iron headboard.

“Cross your wrists around one of the bars,” he said.

I hesitated. I’d imagined he’d tie me down, arms out to the side.

“It’s okay,” he said, as if understanding my hesitation. “You’ll like it. We both will.”

I nodded, then complied. I breathed deep, as if that would keep the ghosts at bay.

“Are you doing okay?” Tyler asked once my hands were secured behind me.

“Yeah,” I said, surprised by the truth of the words. I tilted my head up for a kiss. “So far, I’m doing fine. More than fine,” I added, because the truth was I was getting excited. Knowing I was going to be bound. Taken. Knowing that I was about to surrender totally, to submit completely.

I should be terrified. Should be writhing in a desperate attempt to get free.

Should be kicking Tyler in the balls.

But I wasn’t. Just the opposite. Instead, I was looking forward to what came next with potent anticipation. And all because I trusted this man.

He turned away from me, then opened a drawer at the bottom of the dresser. When he came back, he held two coils of red rope.

I frowned. “I’m not sure if I should be glad you’re experienced at this or irritated that I’m not the first woman you’ve done this to.”

He sat beside me, then kissed me gently while his fingers played with my breasts. It was an intimate, casual moment, and reminded me again that right now, more than before, I was truly his to do with as he wished.

“You are the first,” he said, his voice low and full of meaning. “The first. And the only.”

“Tyler—”

“I know,” he said. “I know it can’t last. You’ve made it clear, and I get it. But that doesn’t change the truth. I love you, Sloane,” he said as he eased my leggings off. “And that will never change. Now,” he said, with a quick change in tone. “Bring your knees to your chest.”

I bit my lower lip, but complied. Then I held my breath as he wrapped the cord around my left leg just below my knee, effectively binding my calf to my thigh. Then he took the loose end of the cord and tied it to the post beside my hand, pulling it taut to take up the slack, and in that way holding my leg up, knee at my chest, my sex completely exposed.

He ran his fingers over me. “Your cunt is so wet, Sloane. I think you’ve been thinking naughty thoughts.”

“Very,” I said.

“Like what?”

“That I like this,” I whispered, as he sank three fingers deep inside me. “That I like being at your mercy,” I said, forcing the words out past a moan of deep pleasure. “That I like knowing that I’m yours. And not knowing what’s coming.”

“Good. Very good,” he said, then repeated the process with the other leg. “Nice,” he said, when he’d completed the task. “Now close your eyes.”

I did, then jumped as he took hold of my knees, lifted me just a little, and spanked my ass.

“Not the best position for that,” he said. “But I recall the lady liked the sensation. I wonder how far she’d like to go.”

“Very far,” I murmured. “All the way,” I said, and he chuckled.

“All the way it is,” and then I felt the smack of his hand again—not on my ass, but on my sex. I cried out, the sensation unfamiliar and strange, and yet arousing, too. And when he did it again, the sting lingered, making my clit so sensitive that I thought a single burst of air might make me come.

“So sweet,” he murmured, and I opened my eyes to see his mouth close intimately over me, and just the sight of him, laving me like that, made my body quiver with the need to draw him in.

Tyler complied, first with his tongue—thrusting it so deep I arched up, at least as much as the restraints allowed, and then bucked against him, in silent demand for more.

He gave me that more, his mouth sliding up to my breast as his hand teased and tormented my sex, sending waves of sensation swarming through me. I wanted to writhe, to move, but the minuscule amount of movement I was allowed did little to deflect the onslaught, and I was overwhelmed by the sensations, certain I was about to burst.

“I’m close,” I said. “Oh, god, Tyler, I want you inside me. Please, I want to feel you in me when I come.”

He stripped quickly, then knelt between my legs. He lifted me up just slightly with one hand as he took his cock in the other and positioned it against me.

“Yes,” I said, the pleasure so acute I almost came at that moment. Then Tyler held my legs for leverage and thrust inside me. “Watch,” he said. “Don’t close your eyes.”

I did, mesmerized by the way he thrust in and out of my body. Torn apart when I watched him take one hand off my leg so that he could tease my clit, sending me spiraling even higher.

“You’re close,” he said. “I can feel how tight you are. How close you are. Come on, baby. Come on, and let’s go over together.”

I listened to the sound of his voice, as if it could carry me all the way.

“Now, Sloane, now,” he cried, and I exploded with him, my body reaching out for the heavens even though I was so thoroughly tied down to the bed.

The shudders ripped through me for what seemed like forever, and Tyler left me like that, his fingers slowly stroking me as if to draw out every last bit of pleasure.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, as he touched me so intimately. “Don’t go back to Indiana.” He stroked my cheek, kissed my lips, teased my sex. “Stay.”

I closed my eyes, wishing things were different. “I want to. Tyler, you have to know that I want to. But I can’t. I’m a cop. I can’t give it up. It’s part of who I am. You know that.”

“So be a Chicago cop. Or even in private security. Hell, you could work for BAS.”

I laughed. “Because it’s so up and up?”

“I just want you to stay. At the moment, I don’t care how.”

I tilted my head and glanced down at my arms, still bound behind me. Then at my legs, spread wide and his hand still stroking me. “Right now you could make me.”

“Tempting,” he said. “Very tempting.”

“You know, this trust thing has to be mutual. Maybe I should tie you up.”

His grin was pure, wicked sex. “Maybe you should. I think I’d enjoy being at your mercy.”

As he reached to untie me, my phone rang. “Dammit,” I said. “Just send it to voicemail.”

He reached for it, and I saw him hesitate. “It’s your dad. Answer it?”

“Put it on speaker,” I said, since I was in no position to hold a phone. “It might be important.”

“Hi, Daddy,” I said, once Tyler laid the phone on the bed. “Listen, this isn’t a good time. I’m kind of tied up right now.”

Beside me, Tyler rolled his eyes.

“I won’t keep you. But I wanted to let you know that I heard back from my friend in the Vegas PD. Amy was cited. For solicitation.”

I met Tyler’s eyes. “Shit. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Wait. There’s more. They booked her. I had him compare the mug shot with the license. Honey, they don’t match.”

“Say again?”

“Whoever’s using her ID isn’t Amy.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

I had a bad feeling. A very, very bad feeling.

“Daddy, I have to go.” I nodded to the phone and Tyler ended the call. “Untie me,” I said urgently. “Untie me now.”

“What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure.” I sat up and ran my fingers through my hair. “Shit. It’s right there. This feeling. Something’s off and it all ties back to Vegas.”

“The fact that she’s not there.”

I met his eyes as the word that was eluding me surfaced. “Emily.”

He cocked his head. “Back up. Slow down. What are you thinking?”

I stood up, then started to pace, the motion helping me think. “I don’t think Amy went to Vegas. I don’t think she ever did. Okay,” I said, then held up a hand to silence him before his words erased my thoughts. “Emily was supposed to have been heading for Vegas, but she was found dead in Chicago. And Amy was supposed to have gone to Vegas, but we never heard from her.”

“Darcy got a postcard,” he pointed out. “And you said Candy got a phone call.”

“A postcard with no return address. A phone call that went straight to voice mail—and had the wrong month in it.”

His brow furrowed. “The wrong month?”

“Hang on. I’m getting there. I need to check something.” I snatched my phone, then did an Internet search on POE oil. A second later, I knew that POE oil was used with refrigerants. “Fuck,” I said. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Fill me in,” Tyler said.

“Call Sapphire,” I said. “You have her cell number, right?”

He nodded, then dialed, putting his phone on speaker. As he did, I started to explain what I was thinking.

“If my hunch is right, Amy never sent that postcard. Someone else did. And the call was made from a burner. And in the call, she sounded terrible, Candy said. And she said she’d see Candy next month. Amy knows when Candy’s due. She wouldn’t get it that far off. She gave the wrong date on purpose. She was giving us a clue, and I fucking missed it—Sapphire,” I added, when the girl answered the phone.

“Hey.” She sounded confused. “Tyler?”

“His phone,” I said. “This is Sloane. Listen, do you know who offered Emily the job? The one she turned down when she decided to go to Vegas?”

“Um, yeah. That was Big Charley. You know, the nice quiet guy who—”

“I know him,” I said. “Thanks.”

I clicked the button to end the call, and saw from Tyler’s face that he was on the same page as me.

“Refrigerant oil,” he said. “He’s in the vending machine business. And he offered both girls a job.”

“Lizzy, too,” I said. I was already climbing into my clothes. Tyler was, too.

“He offered Lizzy a job?”

“I didn’t catch it at first,” I said, hurrying toward the service door. “She said she should have taken the pop job. Soda pop. Vending machines.”

“Blond hair and bangs,” Tyler mused. “All three of them.”

“We’re taking my car,” I said, as I jammed the button for the elevator. I wanted my gun.

We took my car, but I let Tyler drive. Not only did he know where Big Charley’s office was, but he was a hell of a lot better at navigating Chicago.

“We know that Amy’s alive,” I said. “Or she was pretty damn recently.” I kicked at the dashboard. “The guy had her call Candy right after I talked with him. Guy’s got serious balls, the fucker.”

“How are we handling this?”

I took my Glock out of the glove box and checked the magazine. Then I pulled the slide back and put one in the chamber. “We can’t get a warrant. I’m not local and there’s no time, anyway. So we’re going to go into his office and politely ask where she is.”

“And if he doesn’t tell us?”

I met Tyler’s eyes. “Then we’ll get nasty.”

Charley’s warehouse was near Destiny, and Tyler got us there at near the speed of light.

“I have the gun,” I said. “So when it gets down to it, you stay behind me.”

“If I’d known our agenda, I’d be armed, too.”

I glanced at him, then shook my head. I should have assumed he’d have a weapon somewhere. “No time to get it now. And we’re starting this party like it’s just a regular business day. Okay?”

“I know what to do,” Tyler said.

There was a buzzer on the front door of the warehouse, and Tyler pressed it, and I was relieved when Big Charley himself answered the intercom. I’d expected to have to deal with staff. But maybe we’d gotten lucky.

“Hey, Charley, it’s Tyler Sharp. I’ve got a proposition for you.”

“Yeah? What kind?”

“The kind I don’t want to discuss by shouting in an intercom. Buzz me in.”

There was a pause, then the door clicked open. We entered a warehouse that resembled a maze constructed of vending machines. Tyler’d been here before, though, and he led us through to the far corner and a dingy office with a cheap wooden door.

Inside, Big Charley sat behind a cheap wooden desk. I caught Tyler’s eye, hoping he could read my mind. I wanted Charley out from behind that desk, because who knew what he had mounted under there.

Tyler took a seat on the ratty sofa, then pulled out his phone. “Got a new gig we’re working,” he said, tapping at the phone. “Come here. I’ve got some photos and specs. Should be lucrative.”

Charley narrowed his eyes and looked at me.

“She’s cool,” Tyler said. “Won’t say a word. Will you, baby?”

“No, sir.”

Charley’s brows rose and he joined Tyler on the couch. “Okay, what do you have?”

“Amy Dawson. Emily Bennett,” I said, watching his face. “It’s not about what we have, but about what you do.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he said, but I’d already seen the truth on his face.

“Where, goddammit?” I said, and this time I aimed the Glock at his chest. “Where are they?”

“I told you, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“I’ll look for keys. Something,” Tyler said, going to his desk. And then, “No keys, but this is interesting.” He raised a 9mm Beretta, then walked over to me.

“Tyler …”

“You know, Charley. This all feels very personal to me. And I think I can be much more persuasive than the lady.”

“Fuck. You.”

“I thought you might say that,” Tyler said, then shot the bastard in the kneecap, making my ears ring.

“Where?” Tyler asked, sounding as though he was at the end of the tunnel. “Tell me now or lose the other.”

“Vault,” Charley said. “Far side of the warehouse.”

“Bring him,” I said to Tyler, as I started toward the door. “It’s probably padlocked.”

Tyler hauled Charley into the rolling desk chair, and we raced across the warehouse, the sick fuck crying and moaning about how much he hurt.

“Yeah, I’m guessing Emily Bennett didn’t feel so good, either. And if Amy is dead, you are going to never feel right again.”

We reached the vault door and, sure enough, it was locked with a heavy duty combination lock. Tyler and his new Beretta managed to persuade the combination out of Charley.

We yanked open the door. “Amy! Amy, it’s Sloane,” I called. I went in low, just in case, but I didn’t really think anyone else was there. This wasn’t a trafficking operation. This was just one perverted bastard.

“Sloane?”

I barely heard it, what with her weak voice and my still-ringing ears. But I did, and I raced across the small room to find her shoved into a dog crate hidden under a moving blanket.

While Tyler checked the rest of the room to make sure there were no other girls, I opened the crate. “Come on, sweetheart. It’s over now. You’re safe.”

I put the furniture blanket around her, keeping her warm from the shock, and watched as she crawled back into a corner, as far away from Big Charley as she could get.

“What’s this fucker’s last name?” I asked Tyler.

“Dodd.”

“Charles Dodd, you’re under arrest for the murder of Emily Bennett and the attempted murder of Amy Dawson. You have the right to remain silent,” I began, then finished Mirandizing him. I wasn’t Chicago PD. But right then, I figured I’d do.

“You ain’t gonna arrest me,” Charley said.

“Seems to me I already did.”

“Not if you’re with him. Because I’ve got a lot of paperwork on him and his buddies. Lots of documentation. I’m careful that way. Careful to keep records. Make notes. I write down everything. And I’m a very sharing kind of guy.”

My stomach turned over, and I felt bile rise in my throat. I knew how this would go down. Charley was a murderer, but he’d cut a deal. Because the knights were a much bigger and flashier feather in the cap of the local PD and FBI office. Charley would maybe get sentenced to a dime, get out in three. And the knights would end up in a minimum security facility for the rest of their lives.

Shit. Shit, fuck, damn.

“Oh, yeah. The lady knows what I’m saying,” Charley sang.

There was, however, one way out.

I lifted the Glock. I’d done it with Grier, and this guy was at least as bad. I could do it. Take him out, and save Tyler the way I couldn’t save my mother.

I started to depress the trigger, stopping only when Tyler very firmly said, “No.”

“It’s the only option. He’s right. You’ll do time. All of you.”

“We’ve always known that was a risk,” Tyler said. “I don’t like to lose, but the possibility is inherent in the game. That’s part of the thrill.”

I felt the tears streak my cheeks. “Let me do this. Let me do this so you can stay with me.”

“And destroy you in the process? Do you think I don’t know how much Grier cost you? I’m not letting you add to that. Sloane,” he said gently. “Put the gun down. Call the cops. Whatever happens, happens.”

Slowly, I lowered the gun. And I knew in that moment that I would never love anyone more than I loved this incredibly brave man.

“Oh yeah, that’s what I’m saying,” Big Charley said. “This way’s good, isn’t it, Amy-doll. She’s one of my favorites, and I’ve had so many. So pretty, and then they get thin and they’re just for me. I let them eat off my boots. Lick them clean. Let them suck me off if they’re really good. I don’t fuck them—don’t do that. But I’ve got to keep them under control. Make them supple. Make them touch themselves for me. And if they don’t come, well, they don’t get food. They just get thinner and thinner.”

He droned on, and I wasn’t sure if it was blood loss or if he believed so firmly that he’d get off easy or if he was just plain crazy. All I knew was that I couldn’t take it. All those girls. All that torture.

Amy.

And the thought that he might be out on the street again in thirty-six months. Maybe even less.

My finger twitched on the trigger. I met Tyler’s eyes, then looked at Charley.

I have to. This time, it really will be justice.

I didn’t wait to see if he understood. I just lifted my gun and then, knowing that I was perfectly justified, I blew the devil back to hell.

The paramedics assured us that Amy would be fine, then whisked her off to the hospital. Tyler and I were separated, each giving a statement to a different detective. I didn’t know how this would shake down, but I wasn’t too worried. Tyler had found another gun in Charley’s office, and after firing off a round in the vault, he’d given it to the dead man, making what happened look remarkably like self-defense.

When the cops were finished with us, I went to Tyler, who was waiting for me in the warehouse. I fell into his arms, and we sank to the floor, leaning against a Coke machine. “I love you,” I said, then kissed him.

He rose, and held out a hand for me. “Come on, Detective. Let’s go home.”