I was also very much anticipating putting her on her knees after the guests had gone home – probably after the guests had gone home – and turning her skin from bright to bright red.
"Flowers," I said, more to say something than because I cared if there were peonies at the party.
Chloe stood. "I have to get going. There's an inspection for the foster system today. I'm going to go over the house for the ten millionth time and make sure there's no evidence of Claude's and my hobbies." She winked.
"There can't be," I said. "You've brought them all over here." Claude had truly amassed a shocking amount of fetish wear.
"Well begun is half done," she said breezily, then, "No, wait. Not that. How about, if it's worth doing, it's worth doing right."
I smiled.
Waited.
She shrugged and admitted it. "If it's worth doing, it's worth doing repeatedly and obsessively to make sure it's right."
I laughed. "Go. Be obsessive and repeated."
She leaned over and kissed me, aiming for my cheek. I turned my head and she caught my mouth. For a second we stared, then she connected. A good kiss that made me ache to take her now.
Patience. It would be more fun after the party. Or at the party. During the party, in front of everyone.
Wait and see.
11
Annie
The day of the party I had an exam in one of my classes. It was a Friday and I wasn't going to miss class or make up the exam. I'd left multiple messages for Cole. Either he'd changed his number or he didn't give a fuck about it or he had the message and no intention of letting me know so I could stop calling.
Whatever. I'd done what I could. There'd been no sign of Kie, at least from my side, a thought that instantly plugged itself into my brain and wouldn't let go. What if? What if Kie had gone out there, again, and what if all of St. Martin's vaunted security failed – again – and — ?
And I still had an exam and had made no attempt to take it earlier or later. I'd just have to wait until I was through before heading out.
I could have asked Julie or Jenna for a ride, but to be honest, I kind of wanted the time to go slow. Plus they'd have only gotten me to the edge of the city. That's where I knew to take off from, the edge of a kind of distribution part of the city.
It would be fine. You don't grow up to be a big bad billionaire bad guy without learning to stand on your own two feet. And whatever James thought about the excitement and definiteness of the event, these were very rich men who were going to be "busted." They could get themselves out of trouble with the wave of a checkbook.
So maybe I shouldn't go.
But that was wishful thinking. Sitting in class wearing running clothes, waiting impatiently for the pages to become available to fill out on my laptop and wondering what to do with it after the exam – go all the way home to drop it off first? – I knew I was stalling.
I'd liked the idea of Cole St. Martin not being a part of my life for a while. When I lit out of college after a few scant semesters the first time and went on with Seattle PD I had full family support. Well, as close to that as I was ever going to get from my three sisters who were my flip side – girly, giggly, just itching to start dropping children and marrying their daddies. I had my parents. I had a place to live. In short order I went from boyfriend to fiancé. I'd stood on my own two feet, but I had a lot of support.
From that I went to PD. They might not have been crazy about the undercover chick in narc but they had my back. They might not want to play poker with me but they liked how I skewed the stats on arrests and in our favor. I had a place there. And I had the money for my own place even if I wasn't rich. If it hadn't been for Mark, I still could've made it.
But after the fentanyl? After addiction and being with St. Martin, in his care for over a year, care that included kneeling naked and saying Yes, Sir and depending on him for everything? I wanted to know I could go it on my own with the money I'd made from PD and the money I'd stolen from drugs.
The fact of his money in the bank as back up? It was a nice cushion.
That's all I wanted it to be. Not my full support. I wanted to work through the semesters if I needed to because I needed to.
I started taking the test and after going over all my answers twice when still no one else was finished, I submitted it, waited until the TA motioned that it had been received, folded everything off and went back to my apartment. I had time.
I had more time during the run. Time to realize that seeing St. Martin again was a daunting thing. I didn't know if he could get in my head. I didn't know if the events with Chloe and Claude would come screaming back like nightmares or flashbacks.
I didn't know if I'd run to him or from him. Beg him to take me into the pain room or slug him in the stomach.
Once I'd made sure he didn't get arrested.
The sooner I finished school and got myself started at the DEA, the better. I needed structure and stability.
I did not need Cole St. Martin.
The day was beautiful. Perfect weather for running except there was an autumn wind blowing. Of course. There's always a wind in the desert. I ran easily at a measured pace, the way I couldn't run with St. Martin because he was a head taller than me and naturally, as a sadist, he enjoyed pushing me. Every few miles on this run I tried him again, leaving voicemails. I sent texts that became more sharp in tone.
And finally I gave up on that and just ran.
Until I reached his house and realized my dual natures were warring with each other. I'd been law enforcement too long to just turn my back on it. They were wrong in this case and either their information came from a conservative, judgmental source or it came from somebody with an axe to grind. The things that went on during those dinners were –
I stopped, panting, well out of range of the cameras that continually scanned the perimeter. The dinner parties were not to my taste. I might someday have to admit I had my own kink. That I was a submissive. It wasn't a part of me I was anxious to explore. If it would go back to sleep and let me just live my life and pursue my career, I'd be grateful. I didn't want sex on my mind 24/7. A bitter little thought flitted through my mind: At least when there'd been nobody but Mark in my life I hadn't had that problem.
Cole St. Martin awakened something in me. He hadn't closed down the part that was a cop. The police on this raid were doing exactly what they were meant to do with the information they had. If they truly thought, as James said, that there was sex trafficking going on, then of course they had to do something. That they were acting against the elite rich was impressive.
I was there because St. Martin had gotten under my skin. Because he wasn't doing what they thought he was doing. Because at least the members of the group he got together with did something about sex trafficking. Their sick games might not be to my taste. I apparently liked pain and that bothered me enough. Happily I didn't have to add exhibitionism to the list. But they raised money to fight trafficking.
And the consent? It's a slippery slope. But no one I'd ever seen had been sold in reality.
That, considering I had been. The cop who was my handler had sold me to St. Martin. Who at least in the beginning seemed to think he owned me.