Page 17 of Dissension

I don’t trust myself alone with you.

“I don’t want a drink, Dieter.” She says the words a little more forcefully than she meant to. Kara holds her ground. Growls a little, staring him down. “Take me to the station.Now, Dietrich.”

Instead of yelling back at her the way Nick would have, his eyes go suspiciously half-mast as he leans close. Those beautiful eyes travel downwards to glance at her lips before drifting upwards to meet her gaze. Dietrich’s voice takes on that tone that she so rarely hears, the soft and sweetly submissive words spilling from his lips, “Yes, ma’am.”

A hot sort of want trickles inside of her, but Kara ignores it.

Kara’s core clenches hard, hearing the unexpected, sultry and compliant tone drip from his lips like honey. She inhales sharply, noticing the way his pupils dilate before he looks away, putting the car in drive.

She doesn’t like it. She doesnot.

‘Be careful, friend.’ Gale told her weeks ago. ‘If you’re good at games, just know that he’s better.’

Chapter 9

The city police station is busy, bustling with all sorts of people in and out. Some, less willing than others, being dragged in shouting and yelling with their cuffs snapped tight.

Just being in one of the bland interview rooms has Kara feeling uneasy. She’s spent so much of her life trying to avoid being in one of these places, always fearing that one day her father would land her in one, lying to save his ass.

The irony that she chose a career where she would need to support other people in these scenarios is not lost on her.

So, here she sits next to her rather prolific client, nose filled with his crisp cologne as they wait to be seen. Her mind races with ways to make sure nothing, absolutelynothingthe police come up with sticks to him in any way. While Kara doubts Dietrich has anything to do with the torture ring offshoot from theDark Mirage, she doesn’t doubt that he’s donesomething,at some point in his life to make the cops want his ass.

She’s seen the way officers look at him with some form of reserved dislike that they can’t truly express.

Dieter’s hand suddenly settles on her bouncing knee, stilling it. His palm is warm. “Chill.” He says coolly, without looking at her, thankfully removing his hand. “You know these types sniff out any sign of nervousness. If you’re nervous, we’re not in control.”

Damn him, he’s right.

“Iamin control.” Kara bites her lower lip. “Remember what we talked about. Don’t answer anything that doesn’t pertain to your involvement with the financing of theDark Mirage. We’re here about that and nothing else.”

Checking his watch in a show of boredom, Dieter leans back in his chair. His collection is enviable. As is the tailoring of his fine suit. Kara needs to find out who dresses him so that they can dress hernext.

The interview room door opens and Kara feels her heart begin to race even as a friendly face appears. Ray Wellis gives her a grim nod as he enters the room with his partner, who is far less amenable. “Kara. I wish we were meeting under more pleasant terms.”

Smiling tightly at him, holding onto her power mask, the one she needs for this meeting, she replies, “Maybe next time, Detective Wellis.” Making eye contact with the harsh older woman beside him, Kara gives a grim smile of recognition. “Nice to see you again Detective Collins.”

The woman huffs and makes no response. The first time she met Kara, she’d been certain Kara was a prostitute on the rougher side of town, thanks to Nicholas Havenwood-Calais and his limo full of licentious whore-hounds.

“Mr. Bittinger. Are you aware of why you’re here?” Ray asks Dieter to begin the interview.

“I’m sure it has to do with my previous investments in Paxton Brooker,” Dieter says calmly, relaxed in his seat. “As I’m sure my lawyer has told you, I’m eager to assist in any way I can.”

Don’t lay it on too thick, Dieter, she thinks.

Folders and papers make their way to the table.

“Talk to me about these documents,” Detective Collins asks, tapping one bitten fingernail at the papers.

Dieter’s eyes flicker down to look at the papers laid before him. “It looks like finance agreements.”

Ray’s mouth twitches in subtle annoyance. “How perceptive of you. Look closer. These are assets that you are known to have financed for Paxton Brooker.”

A noncommittal shoulder lift. “Sure. Pax is good at starting up clubs and bars and making them profitable. My team writes a contract, I fund him, and-”

“And he pays heavy interest to you?” Ray interrupts rudely, dislike plain as day in his gaze.

That devious fox grin makes its appearance on Dieter’s face. “I know it’s hard to remember, but I am not a charity.”

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