Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Cain

I didn't mean for this to happen.

We've got an hour before my men will have their report ready for me.

I wasn't supposed to let her drive me to distraction, and I most definitely wasn't supposed to punish her.

Not now. Not here.

I love the way her eyelids flutter closed, and her hands wrap around my neck for support. I love the way she lets me hold her.

But we have a job to do, and I'm a shit teacher if I don't teach her how to use this gun.

I change my mind about waiting until tomorrow morning. "We need to practice."

"Right," she repeats. "Practice."

We pull away reluctantly.

She's a natural.

I want to wrap her up in my arms, carry her back to my room, and tie her to my bed.

No one would ever touch my Violet. She's mine.

What I'd do to her when I had her there…

But we have a job to do, and we don't have any more time to waste.

"You're really fucking good at this."

I love the way she flushes under my praise. "I have a good teacher."

"There are some things you can't teach. Some things that only come naturally."

I don't know if it's because she has years of training, because she's incredibly skilled at knife throwing, or because there's just something inside her that innately knows its way around weapons, but when she holds a gun and shoots, she does it as if she's had years of practice.

She doesn't trust me at first when she turns back around to shoot.

"Stop looking over your shoulder at me."

"I'm afraid you'll—do something to me again." She gives me a look halfway between a glare and a pout.

"Like spank you?" I love watching her squirm.

"Or—something."

I release a labored breath. "I will never, ever do anything to distract you when you're holding a gun." I shake my head. "Goddammit, woman, you think I wanna lose my balls?"

"Ah," she says, standing the way I showed her with her legs spread apart and knees slightly bent. "So I'm safe from being dominated when I hold a gun?"

I huff out a breath. "Yeah."

"I'll have to bring a gun with me to bed, then."

"Try it," I say dryly. "See how that works out for you."

She turns back to her target with a coy little smile. The first shot hits in the yellow ring, a shoulder strike for the human-shaped paper. "I meant that," she mutters. "I don't really want to kill anyone."

"If they're pulling a gun on you, yes, you do."

She doesn't reply, but her next shot strikes straight between the eyes.

"Good shot." I glance at my watch. Eight o'clock. "We have to go now. You'll join me here every morning at seven sharp."

I note the regret on her face when she lays her weapon down. "And lemme guess, no coming here without you even if I follow the rules?"

"If you come here without me, you're not following the rules."

"I'm not going to get any better if I don't practice."

"Trust me. We'll practice."

She draws in a breath and squares her shoulders. "I want to see you shoot."

"You want to see me shoot?"

Her pupils are dilated, and I realize… she's aroused.

No. She's on fire.

"It turns you on, doesn't it?"

"What?"

I feel a slow, lazy smile spread across my face. "All of it. Your spanking. The gun. Me, dominating you. Watching me hold a gun."

She swallows but doesn't look away. "Yes, Mr. Master. You could say that."

"Give me your knife, Violet."

Trembling, she bends and slips her knife out of its sheath.

"What about knives?" I hold the knife to the light. The blade glints like crystal.

"What… about them?" Her chest rises with a sharp intake of breath. I watch as her fingers come to rest on her hips, but her body's tense. Waiting.

"Have you ever played with knives?"

"Of course. All the time. The only way you learn to throw like I have is to—" Eyes wide, she swallows before she continues. "That's not the kind of knife play you have in mind, is it?"

"Not at all, sweet girl."

I brush the handle of the knife across her temple. Her eyes flutter closed, her lips parted. "Knife play can be intensely erotic. You would never want to play with a novice, but with the right person…if you have full trust..." My heartbeat races. "Stay still, Violet." I drag the edge of the knife along her jaw, a thin scraping that makes her skin white. She stands absolutely still. If she moved too quickly, she'd break skin. "Edge play takes you right to the very brink of danger and foreplay." I gently drag the knife from her jaw to her neck, the tiniest scrape of metal to skin. I lean in, my mouth against her ear. "But it intensifies everything ."

Her eyes flutter open, and she licks her lips.

"You're good at that," she whispers.

"Good at what?"

"Intensifying everything."

I gently take the knife off her skin and hand it to her.

Brilliant violet eyes meet mine, unblinking. "I want to see you shoot. Please."

I step past her, my shoulder brushing hers, and my own need to claim this woman flares. I reach for my baby, the Ruger EC9. A striker-fired pistol with an easy trigger and immovable sights, it's my favorite for fast, meticulous shooting.

"Tell me where."

"Left shoulder."

Boom. Hit it.

"Midsection."

Boom. A hole tears straight through the abdominal region.

"Left ear."

Boom. Blast the ear straight fucking off.

"Right wrist."

Boom. Bingo.

" Shit . You're a perfect shot."

I shrug. "Some guys play video games. I relax at the target range."

"Why does this not surprise me?" I can't miss the unmistakable pride in her voice. It does strange things to me I don't know how to unpack. But we have to go.

I show her how to lock everything up. "Back at the house, you'll find clothes in your room. Wear something professional, so we get some answers."

I turn away before she can reply. I don't want to listen to any of her bullshit about not wanting the clothes I gave her. She'll wear theclothes.

My phone rings. Joe.

"Yeah?"

"Lottie called. No change. No word from Skylar, nothing at all."

I've never been a patient guy, and I sure as fuck am not one now. I hate that we're in a holding pattern until we can get more information.

"Thanks. You have that list of victims for us?"

"Yes, sir. Waiting for you in your office."

I head to my office to get the papers, then do a quick change myself so I look professional. Khakis, dress shoes, polo shirt. Someone knocks on the door.

"Come in."

The door creaks open, and I don't look up at first, fully consumed by the details I'm reading about the people we'll see today. When I get my hands on this motherfucker…

"Ahem."

I look up. I blink. I sit back in my chair and admire the stunning woman before me.

Violet's dressed in a white top and dress pants that show off her trim figure and gorgeous thighs. Her top fits her snugly, but drapes about her, somehow pulling off both professional and stunning all at once. Her hair is pulled back in a stylish braid, and she's wearing makeup that makes her cheeks brighter, her lips fuller, and her eyes… God, her eyes.

"Lock that door behind you and get over here."

A pleased smile tugs at her lips. "Is that an order, Mr. Master?"

Christ, I love it when she calls me that.

"It is."

She captures her lower lip between her teeth and casts her eyes down, but dutifully turns and locks the door behind her. When she turns back to me, her vivid eyes are even brighter.

"I literally have no idea how to fix this hair and makeup, so you can't muss it up." She thinks those hands on her hips somehow give her authority.

So cute.

I crook a finger at her. Her cheeks flush brighter.

"We have work to do."

"We do."

I tap the papers together on my desktop and push them to the side, shove away from my desk and walk around to the front. I meet her at the same time she reaches my desk, lift her, and place her on the edge.

I love the way she gasps and her hands fly to my shoulders to steady herself. I reach for her, embrace her, and tuck her against my chest.

"This is risky. You know that."

"I do."

I bend and kiss her, and for one brief moment in time, the world stops spinning.

"I could've worn the skirt," she says, as if to distract me from her stunning beauty. "But you can't run in a skirt, and you just never know…"

"You don't. Smart girl, we should be prepared."

"And I've been thinking."

"Yeah, baby?"

I love the way her eyes go soft when I call her baby.

"I don't think we should start with the victims. The only survivors don't remember what happened to them. We know that he went to Bubbles and Broomsticks, and we know that he has witnesses for every place he's gone."

"Exactly."

"But something occurred to me when I was getting changed just now."

I step back to look at her, so I can take her seriously.

"What's that?"

"The alibis for the times Derrick Dossier supposedly abducted his victims? They're detailed, but almost… too detailed. Here, look."

She takes out her phone and pulls up the notes app.

"August first. Flowers show up at Anita Charles' door. She goes on a date with a mysterious stranger and doesn't return. Her body's found two days later, but he has video evidence that he was shooting pool at the bar when she was supposedly abducted, then he was working the other hours. Like, he didn't even go home to get changed?"

"Odd."

"There's more."

I nod.

"Next up, Margaret Sellier. Flowers show up at her door. Like the others, same thing, goes on a date with a stranger and doesn't return. That time, he was with three buddies fishing in Panama, and couldn't possibly have kidnapped anyone, yet…"

Her voice trails off. I wait for her to finish.

"Yet there's actual DNA evidence to prove it was him."

I shake my head. "That doesn't make sense."

"We don't know who struck us yesterday in the car, but we do know that whoever this person or persons are, they're specifically targeting people who…" She flushes pink. "Who mean something to you. But… you didn't know me until yesterday."

I can't tell her that isn't true. She'd run.

No one knew she mattered to me.

"I say we go back to the bar. I say we bait him. He has bartenders there that slip roofies in drinks for him so he can do his thing, right? At least the one we already took care of."

"Right."

"Then use me as bait."

"No fucking way."

My hands have risen to her shoulders, and she gently pushes them down to rest on her thighs.

"Yes. I can go in and pretend I'm asking more questions, searching for more answers. I'll be a sitting duck drawing him out, and the entire time, we'll have your team keep looking to see what they can find. He's already tried to get me anyway; we'll just make it that much easier for us to find him."

" No. And if you try to do it on your own, I swear to God, Violet?—"

"I know, I know, you'll tie me up, right?"

I curse under my breath, and she waves me off.

"He's watching us. You know he is. You know he was at my place and he knows I'm here now, he has to, if his motive is to get the people that matter to you."

I shake my head. I hate that my sister's missing. I hate that she's in danger. But there has to be another way.

Holding my gaze, her voice softens. She takes one of my hands from her thigh and turns it around so she cups it in two of her own. "We have to do something."

My throat feels tight. I nod. "Yeah."

"We have to find out who he is. Let's sit with your team and piece together what we have. But I really think our time's better spent at the bar than here or questioning those poor survivors who were traumatized anyway."

I cringe. "Right."

Her eyes harden. "I looked at the pictures of the victims. I've made connections. And I saw some things I never, ever want to see again." She cringes. "I won't tell you details because of Skylar, but believe me, we need to stop this guy."

"Agreed." I pull away from her with reluctance. "Let's go."

We're ten minutes out. I love the way she's hyper-focused and aware, her back ramrod straight as she sits next to me in the truck.

"Some people like pretty cars," she says softly, fingering the leather details on the interior of my truck. "Some like race cars or convertibles or expensive, luxury cars. I mean, your Audi's nice," she says with a shrug, in the same tone of voice one might say, I mean, it'll do .

I feel the corners of my lips quirk up. It'll do . "But you?"

She sighs contentedly and runs her hands palms down over the leather-clad dash. "If I could, I would spread my legs for this truck and fuck it good and hard, cowgirl style."

I nearly hit the curb and catch myself just in time. "My God, woman. There's a visual I won't forget. What do you love about trucks?"

With a contented sigh, still running her hands over the leather, she grows meditative. "I like dangerous, powerful things. Your pit bulls, for instance. Some see nothing but a vicious, lethal dog. I see strength and loyalty, and they're so beautiful to me I could cry. I love how when you sit in a truck like this, you're above everyone else."

"On top of the world," I say softly. Violet gets it.

She moves closer to me, our bodies flush against each other in the cab. "I've always loved powerful, dangerous things." Her fingers trail down my bicep, tracing the edges of muscles and veins. "Makes me feel… protected, I guess, but at the same time… not safe at all." With what I know about her background, I understand. She sighs. "That doesn't make sense."

"It makes perfect sense."

I accelerate when we get on the on ramp. Her grip on my arm tightens.

We're five minutes out.

My phone rings. Joe. I hit the button on the steering wheel so we can both hear.

"Yeah?"

"I've got Derrick Dossier on the line for you."