Page 29 of A Dead Man's Pulse
Ian turned to see his employee and friend marching toward the group. Tiny looked like he’d driven through hell to get there, his face filled with concern and guilt. Not because he had anything to do with Georgia’s disappearance, but because he’d been the last one to see her—well, almost the last person to see her.
At Ian’s request, Devon hadn’t given Tiny any of the few details they’d had so far when he’d called to tell the man to meet them at Georgia’s house because she was missing. Nor did Devon ask for any details of what had happened in the wee hours of the morning. They needed to hear what happened from his recollection without tainting it with anything that was said or implied to him. Usually, a missing person case like this would require at least twenty-four hours before being investigated, but since the submissive fit the profile, they were waiving the normal waiting period.
Before Tiny could say anything more, Parrish held up his hand to stop him before addressing his agents. “Novik and Davis, please take Ms. Benson back to the office and get a full statement from her, along with a list of friends and family. You know the drill. Ms. Benson, we’ll do everything we can to find out what happened to Ms. Branneth. Any information you can give the agents to help us will be greatly appreciated.”
As the two agents escorted their witness from the scene, a crime scene tech exited through the front door. “SAC Parrish. We found something around back.”
He pointed to the side of the house, indicating they should walk around instead of through the building. At the back door, another female tech was dusting it for prints while another male tech marked off two footprints in the soil next to the patio. Parrish started with the latter. “A set or two different?”
The man glanced up from his work. “Two different. One’s about a size fifteen and the other is a size twelve.”
“The fifteen is probably mine. I walked around the house last night with my flashlight to make sure she’d be safe.” Tiny’s eyes watered, and he turned his head to the side for a moment to regain his composure. It bothered Ian to see the big man, who would never hurt a woman, get so emotional because one in his care had possibly been kidnapped by a serial killer. “I didn’t see anything. I locked her in my truck while I walked around, and then escorted her to the door. It’d been locked, but I noticed she had an alarm that wasn’t set. She said she sometimes forgets to set it. Damn it! I should have searched the house. Fuck! This is my fault!”
“Hey, Tiny,” Devon said. “Man, look at me, damn it. This is not your fault. If you’d seen anything that made you think she was in danger, you never would have let her in the house alone. You know how easy it is to buy a jammer for security systems. He could’ve gotten in after she set the alarm and you left . . . all it takes is the right equipment.” He was right—even some of the best systems out there weren’t completely un-hackable. There were numerous ways to bypass a system if you did some research. “Hell, for that matter, we don’t know if she left the house after you drove off. We don’t know anything right now. You can’t beat yourself up. If I was the one to drive her home, without something triggering my Spidey-sense, I would have done exactly what you did.”
It was obvious the man wasn’t convinced, but he nodded in Dev’s direction anyway as Parrish pointed at the female technician. “Any prints on the door?”
She shook her head. “No . . . but it looks like someone was wearing gloves and smudged the ones that would normally be there. The lock’s been picked. It’s not obvious though. There’re no scratches on the surface here . . .” She indicated the brass surface plate of the deadbolt around the keyhole. “. . . but with the magnifying camera I can see some inside the lock, otherwise, I would have missed them.” Her last words were directed toward Tiny. She’d obviously overheard his guilt-ridden statements moments earlier and was trying to reassure him there was no way he could’ve spotted the damage to the lock. The only way she’d been able to see the scratch marks left by a lock pick set was by using a camera so small it could fit on the head of a ballpoint pen. “I’ll contact our list of locksmiths to make sure no one came here on a lockout call.”
Twenty minutes later, there had been no more obvious evidence found although the techs were vacuuming and swabbing for trace evidence throughout the interior of the house. Devon volunteered to accompany Tiny to the FBI office where he’d be interviewed fully, so Ian could return to the compound and check on Angie. The eldest Sawyer brother was not looking forward to telling everyone, especially Boomer, that Georgia was missing. Before Kat Michaelson had come out of the Witness Protection Program, in desperate need of her now husband’s help—he hadn’t known she was alive after “dying” twelve years earlier—Boomer had played a few times with the pretty divorcee at The Covenant, and they were still friends.
Stopping at the driver’s door to his truck, he glanced back up at the little house. Bile rose in his throat. During all these months the sick bastard had been kidnapping and killing submissives, Ian had sworn he’d be damned if one of The Covenant’s subs was taken. He’d made sure all the club members took every possible precaution. But it hadn’t been enough. They had approximately three days before Georgia Branneth’s tortured body was found, posed somewhere public in or around Tampa.
Opening the door, Ian climbed in and cranked the ignition, starting the engine. But instead of putting the vehicle in drive, he punched the dashboard, ignoring the pain shooting through his hand and arm. “Son of a fucking bitch. When we catch you, death will be too good for you.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Come on, you wimp. You’ve got a few more in you.”
Logan’s chest, shoulder, and arm muscles shook as he bench-pressed the 220-pound bar. It was hard to concentrate on the weight when Dakota’s spandex-covered crotch was right above his forehead as she spotted him. Her hands followed the up and down motion of his, ready to grab the bar if he reached his maximum rep. For the past few days, she’d joined him in the Trident gym with its top-of-the-line equipment, and he was enjoying working out with her, but damn, her toned body was a huge distraction at times like this.
Growling, he pushed upward against the weight and gravity. Sweat coated his body, and his muscles screamed for him to stop, but like Dakota had said, he had a few more in him. They had the place to themselves this morning after Angie and Kristen had finished their treadmill workouts while little JD had slept nearby in a playpen under the watchful eye of Beau. They’d welcomed Dakota into their territory, and Kristen had given him a knowing wink. He’d thought he’d been doing a good job of disguising his attraction to her, but apparently Devon’s wife didn’t miss a thing when it came to physical chemistry between two people.
And as far as Logan knew, that was all that was going on between him and Dakota. The only other person who knew the two of them had slept together for certain was Dakota’s roommate who had seen him sneaking out around 2:00 a.m. the other night. After his first night in Dakota’s bed, he hadn’t wanted to actually sleep with her, afraid he might hurt her if or when a nightmare struck him again. She hadn’t pushed, clearly figuring out his reluctance, and hadn’t argued when he kissed her goodbye before taking his leave.
He was also glad she hadn’t asked what had caused his freak out that night. Trudy had warned him he might have an increase in his PTSD nightmares with his sessions with the two female Dommes, but she expected it to be temporary as his body and mind adjusted to the new meaning behind the whip. He was due to undergo another whipping tomorrow morning. They’d decided on once a week, so his body could recover. In the meantime, he’d meet with one or the other Domme and train to be the one wielding the sadistic implement.
Taking a deep breath, he faltered on his last press when the scent of Dakota’s arousal assailed him. Seeing him all pumped, hot, and sweaty was doing something for her, which in turn, did something for him. His cock twitched in his shorts as he roared, putting all his energy and strength into one final lift. Once he had it high above his head, Dakota grabbed the bar and helped him place it in its cradle. “Not bad, stud.”
His eyebrows shot upward as he rolled to a sitting position on the bench. “Stud?”
She circled around and handed him a towel to wipe his face with, before straddling his thighs, standing above him. “Yup. Stud. You have to know you have an incredible body and every woman with a pulse wags her tongue when you walk by.”
Barking out a disbelieving laugh, he tossed the towel onto his shoulder and grasped her hips, pulling her toward him. He kissed the silky bare skin between her black sports bra and spandex shorts, eliciting a moan from her as she placed her hands on his shoulders for balance. They really shouldn’t be doing this there where anyone could walk in on them, but he couldn’t help himself. And it wasn’t as if they were breaking any rules by sleeping together. In fact, he didn’t think anyone would be surprised if they found out. She was an incredibly sexy woman, and he’d have to be dead not to want her. However, a part of him wanted more than that, but he had nothing to offer her. He was damaged goods and would never risk letting his guard down around her again. Sex? Great . . . amazing, in fact . . . but sleeping together again was out of the question.
“Don’t move, baby. I’ve got you right where I want you,” he murmured against her skin. She tasted salty from her own exercise, as his lips and tongue brushed over her upper abdomen. Throwing caution to the wind, he brought a hand up between her legs and stroked her through the thin material.
Dakota’s hands tightened on his shoulders, but she held herself still, enjoying his ministrations. “Oh, God, Sir! That feels so good! Mmmmm.”
Lifting his head, he pulled down one side of her bra, exposing a gorgeous tit and its dusky rose peak. His mouth closed around the nipple, and he teased it with his tongue and teeth. Dakota moaned louder and her hips began to move in time with the fingers at her pussy.
Leaving that side of her bra tucked under her breast, he exposed the other one the same way, laving it with equal attention. He slowed then stopped when he heard male voices out in the parking lot. Pushing her back a step, he didn’t bother fixing her sports bra as he tugged her by the hand toward the women’s shower and changing room that had been added since women had been invading the Trident compound, grabbing his duffel bag on the way. His cock was harder than granite, and he couldn’t wait to take her again. Locking the door behind them, he strode over to the shower stall and turned on the water. It was obvious a lot of thought had gone into the showers in both the men’s and women’s rooms, as they were large enough for three people and had benches built into them. Logan doubted he and Dakota were the first ones to share a shower and some nookie in here. “Strip, Koko. I hope you’re not in the mood for slow, because this is going to be hard and fast.” Slow sex was for the bedroom. Adventurous sex was a whole different ballgame.
“Whatever you want, Master Bellhop,” she countered with a saucy grin, shoving her shorts to the floor.
His hand froze on the zipper of his duffel bag where he’d thrown in two boxes of condoms earlier after stopping at a convenience store. He arched an eyebrow at her as she shed her bra. “Little brat, you’ll pay for that.”
“I sure as hell hope so, Sir.”
