Page 15 of A Dead Man's Pulse
Barking and voices caught her attention as she opened the driver’s door and climbed out. To the south of the parking lot was what looked like a Hogan’s Alley, similar to what the FBI and other agencies used for training. It was set up like any Main Street, USA, with storefronts propped up by angled beams behind them. Metal targets could pop up or swing out from various alleys, windows, and doors for shooting practice. Next to that was a four-story concrete building that was missing the glass from its windows. It was similar to what they had at the police academy, where officers would do searches for the bad guys and practice responding to different scenarios. The buildings usually had interior walls which could be moved around to change the setup, so no one got complacent with the same routine.
Between the parking lot and the Hogan’s Alley stood a group of six men and women, each with a K9 practically glued to their left leg. A woman with brown hair pulled up in a ponytail was demonstrating the “stay” command using hand signals with a lab mix. The other five dogs were either Belgian Malinois or German shepherds, both excellent breeds for law enforcement, military, or private security K9s. Dakota chuckled as the Malinois at the far-left end apparently got bored. He laid down and rolled over onto his back as if asking for a belly rub. Instead of being annoyed at the dog’s inability to focus, the instructor smiled and shook her head like it was a regular occurrence with him.
Dakota glanced around the compound again before heading to the door leading to the Trident Security offices. Inside, she introduced herself to the receptionist, who then picked up the landline phone on her desk and stabbed one of the preprogrammed buttons on it. “Ian, Officer Swift is here.”
After receiving a response and hanging up, the young woman pointed to a closed door behind her. “He’s waiting for you. Go right in.”
“Thanks.” It had been about two weeks since she’d last seen the co-owner of the private company at a task force meeting. The more she interacted with the man, the more her respect and admiration for him grew. While he could be one of the most sarcastic people she’d ever meet, it was evident he was a good leader as well as an excellent Dom. From the bits and pieces of conversations she’d had with him or overheard these past few months, she got the impression his wife was a bratty submissive who kept him on his toes—he’d probably accept nothing less.
Turning the knob, Dakota pushed the door open and stepped into an office that clearly belonged to a man. The decor was mostly wood and leather, with earth tones giving a warm feel to the room. Sawyer was standing behind his desk and pointed to an empty chair in front of it. “Swift, have a seat. Thanks for coming. This is your new partner, Logan Reese, otherwise known as Cowboy. Logan, Officer Dakota Swift from TPD.”
As she approached, her gaze finally shifted to the other man in the room, who’d peered at her over his shoulder before standing with a huge grin on his face. Oh shit. It was the Lone Ranger from the coffee shop parking lot—how hadn’t she noticed how good-looking he was? Because you were too busy being a bitch to him.
A deep, annoying chuckle emanated from his throat as he gestured toward the iced coffee in her hand. “We sort of met already, Boss-man, but it’s nice to put a name to the face. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Officer Swift.”
It was impossible to mistake the sarcasm in his voice, and Dakota rolled her eyes. The tone of her response matched his. “Why doesn’t it surprise me that your nickname is ‘Cowboy’?”
“Problem?” Ian frowned while glancing back and forth between them.
“No,” they replied simultaneously. Dakota wished she could wipe the amused smirk off Reese’s face—his handsome face with those smoldering eyes and lush bottom lip that was ripe enough for a nibble. Damn.
“Good. Keep it that way. Take a seat, and let’s get started.”
Sitting again, Ian leaned back and settled into the soft, black leather as Dakota and Reese sat in the guest chairs opposite him. “Swift, as I told you on the phone, Reese is a former Marine with no Dom training. That changes tonight. We have a few UC couples meeting at The Covenant this afternoon at sixteen-hundred hours. The newbies will be getting a crash course on how to pass themselves off as Doms or subs. In the meantime, the two of you will spend your duty shifts for the next two weeks monitoring the perimeter of Heat—see if anyone looks suspicious or appears to follow a sub out of the area. Remember, this bastard is doing a damn good job of blending in, so it could be anyone.”
His gaze flitted to Reese, and Dakota’s automatically followed. She tried to ignore the scent of her new partner’s cologne as it wafted in her direction every now and then. She didn’t know what brand it was, but damn, whatever it was, he wore it well.
Giving herself a mental shake, she tried to concentrate on what Sawyer was saying. “Cowboy, Dakota’s been on this detail for a few months now and is up to date on everything we have. Pick her brain whenever you can. When you’ve finally cleared for the club scene, and something is said or done that you’re not sure about, ask her—she’s been in the lifestyle for a few years, and there shouldn’t be much she hasn’t encountered before.”
Picking up a business card that had been sitting on the desk, Ian handed it to Reese. “Hit that place today or tomorrow. It’s got a larger selection of fet-wear for men than we have in the club’s boutique—Dakota can help you out if necessary. Pick up a few pairs of leather pants and a vest or two and give the receipts to Colleen for reimbursement. Motorcycle or western boots are preferred by most Doms. At the training later today, Polo will get you set up with a personal play bag for you to bring into the clubs. The standard items will be in it for appearances, but it also has a secret compartment for a few toys we don’t want anyone to know you’re carrying. Polo will go over all that with you. Dakota, dress in appropriate fet-wear for all training sessions. I want you to be completely comfortable with each other before we turn you loose. Since The Covenant, Heat, and most of the other clubs are closed on Mondays, I suggest you two go out for a drink and something to eat after training and get to know each other better. It’s imperative that you look like a D/s couple at all times.”
Reese cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with what he was about to say or ask. “Does that mean we need to . . . um . . . play at the clubs?”
Before Ian could answer, Dakota shook her head, making sure she looked and sounded like the professional she was. “Not exactly. With my last partner, we did the basics for appearances—I’ll kneel at your feet when you’re sitting and appear as a submissive in every way. Davis and I made it known we weren’t into exhibitionism, so we disappeared into one of the playrooms for about an hour, then made it look like we’d had an intense scene before joining the crowd again. In your toy bag, there will be a tablet that’s patched into the club’s surveillance system, so we can monitor what’s going on out in the public areas while we’re supposedly scening.”
“After talking it over with Parrish, we’re updating that,” Ian said before Reese could respond, and Dakota’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. “A majority of the victims were known to be brattier than the others. We’re instructing all the UC subs to step up their game. With any luck, our killer will target one of you. So, that means, yes, you might be doing some scenes in the public areas. Obviously, we’re not asking you to have sex or anything close to it, but a few punishments here and there may get the attention of our UNSUB. Again, Marco will be going over all this with you later.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got another meeting I need to get to, so unless there are any immediate questions or concerns . . .” Reese shook his head, and Dakota forced herself to do the same. Ian stood. “Then you’re on duty at sixteen-hundred hours.”
“Thanks, Boss-man,” Reese said, getting to his feet. When Dakota stood, he swept his hand to the door. “After you.”
She cleared her throat. “Thanks, Ian.”
As Dakota strode toward the door, her mind in a whirlwind, she felt rather than heard her new partner on her heels. When she reached the main reception area, a hand wrapped around her elbow, stopping her short. Reese turned her to face him. “Look, we obviously got off on the wrong foot earlier. Can we start fresh?”
She arched an eyebrow at him and was surprised when he held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Logan Reese. Retired Marine, hopeless gentleman, and all-around good egg. And you?”
Unable to stop the grin that spread across her face, she glanced at his hand a moment longer before shaking it. “Dakota Swift. Tampa PD, grouchy bitch, and a bit scrambled.”
If she’d thought he was good-looking when he smirked, he was devastating when he full-out smiled. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it? Care to join me on my shopping excursion? I honestly have no idea what’s in when it comes to leather.”
A part of her wanted to take him up on that, curious to see how he looked in snug, black leather pants, but his charm was getting to her, and no way was she getting involved with someone she worked with. Not while her undercover career was at stake. “Um . . . I think I’ll pass. I have a few things I need to take care of before coming back here later. I’m sure you’ll do just fine. Ask for Linda. She’ll be more than happy to help you. It’s what she does best.”
Of course, she didn’t add that Mistress Linda was a sadist. Let him find out for himself. Hmm. Her inner brat was already making an appearance. “Gotta run. See you later.”
Before she could change her mind, she turned on her heel and made a beeline for the door.
Chapter Ten
Following his new partner to the reception area, Logan watched as she marched out the door and headed to her car. Damn, he thought with a grin—Officer Dakota Swift is a real firecracker. Not only was she hot as hell, but she also had a temper and a chip on her shoulder to boot—a chip Logan was looking forward to knocking off. Maybe this detail wouldn’t be so bad—at least he was attracted to her. Too bad that attraction was one-sided.
