Picture Her Bound-epub (7 page)

He broke away from her before he lost it and shoved her up against the nearest car to fuck in public. With one last glance at her kiss-swollen lips, he ducked into the building.

The café had two walls of windows and was busy for a Saturday. He dug his bounty hunter badge out of his pocket and strode straight into the kitchen.

A chef turned toward him, brandishing a spatula. “You can’t—”

Jacques flashed his badge. “In pursuit of a criminal. Back door?”

The chef pointed toward the marked exit. Jacques hurried through the kitchen and slipped out the door into an alley. He sprinted as fast as he could down the block, his boots hammering the damp pavement, cool, humid air burning his lungs.

If Odalia continued at the same pace down the street, he had five minutes from the time they’d parted to circle behind where the car would be. That was also five minutes where anything could go wrong.

The alley let out on a side street. He skidded to a stop, peering at the main street beyond.

No car.

That didn’t mean it had moved yet.

He crept toward the street, keeping his back against the wall.

The blue sedan rolled past his position, the driver’s side window down and a black male in the driver’s seat. The jacket collar was turned up, and he wore a baseball hat pulled low, obscuring his features.

Jacques stalked toward the car as it eased past him. He rounded the corner in time to catch the brake lights flicker on and pull into a metered spot.

He wanted to run toward the culprit, yank him out of the car and beat his ass, but he was too far away. Going with the foot traffic, he watched the blue sedan.

Odalia meandered down the next block, pausing to study another storefront while Creature wound around her legs.

The man in the car glanced to the right then left, surveying the field. His gaze snagged on Jacques’ in the driver’s side mirror, and the car’s engine revved.

Jacques broke into a run and flung himself at the door as the car peeled out onto the street, cutting off a truck and veering around pedestrians.

Adrenaline pounded in his veins, useless and wasted.

“Fuck.” He fisted his hands and gritted his teeth.

So close.

But now they had another license plate and a face.

I’m going to find you,
capon
, and when I do, you’ll wish the gators got you first.

* * * * *

Odalia paced the office of Bayou Hunters, back and forth, Creature curled in the corner watching her. How was it Jacques rated an actual office, and she, a police officer, had only a desk at the station?

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Jacques drawled into the receiver. He had his feet propped on the desk and the phone in his lap.

She held her breath. Did he have a lead?

The office Jacques shared with his team of bounty hunters was quiet. They were alone in the building, though they’d passed two men on their way out. Most were taking vacation time, and those few still working were swamped. Jacques had never mentioned which category he was supposed to be in, but she could guess that, if it weren’t for her, he’d be collecting a few bounties. A pang of guilt shot through her. She wasn’t just costing him time, but money too.

“Thanks for your trouble. I appreciate it.” He set the receiver into the cradle and placed the telephone on the desk.

“Well?”

“Car is registered to a Ms. Williams, who is a resident of our fine city jail. Her car, a blue Ford Escort, is supposed to be in impound. That second set of plates is registered to a Mr. Fox, who was booked on a DUI Christmas Eve and had his car impounded.”

“Fuck,” she spat, crossing her arms over her chest.

Who would do this? Who hated her this much?

“Can you think of anyone at all you’ve had a beef with?” He steepled his fingers, studying her. “Anyone you’ve been with?”

She shrugged. “I dated another cop a few months ago, maybe in October? It was for a hot minute. We don’t even talk anymore.” Besides, Chuck never hurt for companionship, not that she could tell. “Let me call my old partner.”

“Who’s he?”

“Mathieu Mouton.” She pulled out her phone and hit speed dial.

Jacques’ brows crawled up his forehead. No wonder. She could guess at some of the assumptions running through his head. Mathieu was another black officer and kinky, but they’d never dated.

“
Ça viens?
” Mathieu rumbled after one ring.

“Got a question for you.”

“Happy holidays to you too. Where have you been?” She could picture Mathieu pacing his tiny apartment.

Odalia’s guilt redoubled. “I’m sorry about that.”

“You didn’t come to Christmas Eve.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I know. Stuff happened.”

“With the bounty hunter?” Displeasure tinged his tone. Mathieu had been sour on relationships since his disaster of a marriage ended. He was also Odalia’s safe call in the event she decided to meet up with another kinky person for some consensual fun. He knew all her secrets.

“Kind of.” She breezed through the details, hanging her head.

“Damn, rookie, you sure know how to get in a pickle. I told you this modeling was a bad idea.”

Odalia sucked in a deep breath. Modeling brought in extra cash, which she was hoarding to buy the property where Dad’s old place had once stood. Build her own house. Have a life that she created.

“I know. Heard anything?” she asked.

“Chuck’s been bitching about you since you split. Sugar, I told you not to go there. Every female officer he’s chased has complained about him.”

“It was like three dates,” she snapped.

Jacques stood, the chair screeching to high heaven, and paced around the desk. At five foot eight, Odalia could stand toe-to-toe with most men, but Jacques was a force bigger than her.

“With some men, all it takes is a glance. I don’t like this. Let me see what Chuck is up to. I’ll call you back. Tell that sorry SOB to keep both eyes on you.”

Jacques snorted, as if he could hear the other end of the call. Was her volume up that loud?

“’Kay,” she replied.

Odalia pocketed the phone and tipped her chin up, gazing into Jacques’ eyes. “You heard that?”

“Most of it. You can tell Mouton when you see him that when he can hit a squirrel on a gator with a BB gun he can tell me what to do.” The distasteful twist of his lips and slight tinge of anger made Odalia wonder what was between the two men.

“Uh, Jac? Something wrong?”

“Nothing.” He turned from her, dragging his knuckles across his mouth, and stared at the wall.

“No, you don’t get to do that.” She grabbed his arm, and since he was too big to yank around, she stepped in front of him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He got right in her face. “Do you sleep with all the black cops?”

“What?” she screeched. “Mathieu?”

Was he serious? Mathieu was like her brother. The very idea squicked her out, her skin crawling, and a shudder racing down her spine.

Creature growled from the corner. His claws clicked on the tile as he got to his feet.

“And Chuck. Who else?”

“Creature, down.” Odalia jabbed Jacques in the chest with her finger. “Back the fuck up,
mon chèr
. I can date—and fuck—who I want. You don’t own me, so pack your jealousy up.”

“Maybe I should own you.”

They froze, and Odalia couldn’t figure out which of them was more shocked. For a moment they stared at each other, the only sound Creature’s habitual scratching.

Did she want to be owned?

Collars were the typical symbol of the power-exchange relationship. It had been an age since she’d worn one. Her hand fluttered to her throat. Halfway there she gripped the neck of her shirt to keep from touching the natural place a leather strap would rest.

“I think that’s for me to decide,” she said at last. Odalia wouldn’t stand for a lack of trust or excessive jealousy; both were poisons. She was willing to forgive a lot, but there were lines.

“You’re right. My bad,
bébé
. Not my place.” Jacques stepped back, giving her space. Except then she missed his nearness.

“Should we talk about this?” Her fingertips tingled, and her stomach was in knots. She didn’t even know what
this
was or how to address it.

“What is there to say?” From the tense cast to his brow, the pursed line of his lips, he had a lot on his mind.

“If you’re going to be an ass, I will walk out that door, and we will never speak again.” Saying those words felt as if she were ripping out something vital, something she needed, but Odalia wouldn’t be caged or shuttered in. She couldn’t live like that.

A twisted cocktail of jealousy and darker emotions swirled in Jacques’ gaze.

Creature padded across the office and licked Jacques’ hand, whining. No doubt he sensed the tension between them. It was a credit to Jacques that the pit bull hadn’t jumped to her defense. People had to be introduced slowly to the overprotective dog. But not Jacques. He’d stepped into her life as if he belonged there.

Jacques glanced down at Creature and blinked, all the negativity clinging to him bleeding off until he knelt and gave the dog a scratch. For some reason the movement eased the fist constricting her chest, and she drew an easier breath.

“I am a jealous man. It’s not one of my better qualities,” he said as though speaking to Creature, but the words were for her.

“I never slept with Chuck. I couldn’t even kiss him.” She leaned against his desk and watched Creature flop on his back, displaying his belly for necessary scratches.

“And Mouton?”

Odalia laughed because she couldn’t help it. “Don’t ever suggest or think that. He was my partner when I was a rookie, and if I have any family in this world, it’s him.”

Jacques glanced at her. “Do you play together?”

She wrinkled her nose. “No. It feels weird. He’ll do my aftercare sometimes, but that’s it. We’re friends. Besides, he hasn’t played or been in the scene for a long time.”

“I haven’t seen him in ages.” He straightened and turned toward her.

“Divorce. Nasty business.” She didn’t want to talk about Mathieu’s past. It wasn’t her story to tell.

“About this…”

“We can talk about it later.”

He nodded and held out his hand to her. There was something here, they both knew it, and for now, that was enough.

Odalia pulled in a deep breath, but the butterflies in her stomach refused to calm. Her knees were made of rubber. They still hadn’t talked about it. She didn’t know what bothered her more, the unspoken thing between Jacques and her or the possibility of Chuck stalking her. Since Chuck was on duty tonight, there hadn’t been anything to do except attend the dungeon holiday party.

Around her, other women chattered, undressing or primping as each prepared for an evening filled with dark pleasures at The Bastille.

Odalia hadn’t missed the sly glances tossed her way when she’d entered with Jacques, who insisted on carrying her bag and even escorting her to the dressing room. For a man who wouldn’t discuss his interest, he was acting like a territorial bastard.

One side of her mouth kicked up, and she grinned. Okay, she kind of liked the attention, so long as he learned real quickly she wouldn’t stand for the asshole act. He could beat his chest and drag his knuckles a bit if it made him feel manly.

She finished undressing, stashing her shoes, jeans, T-shirt and bra in her bag. Usually she wore a piece of lingerie, maybe a lacy camisole, but tonight the only thing on her body was her ink, her loose hair and a black thong.

Wrapping her confidence around her like a cloak, Odalia pushed open the door and stepped into the heart of the dungeon. She paused to let her sight adjust to the reds and purples illuminating the space. The dungeon was decorated as if it were the love child of a bohemian princess and her gypsy lover, draped with chains, adorned with leather and furniture to torture a person into bliss. It was a wanton wonderland. The sounds of brutal pleasure echoed all around her. Whips cracked, men and women moaned, screamed or giggled and somewhere on the fringes, the electric hum of a violet wand brought goose flesh skittering along her arms and legs.

She glanced around, searching for a tall drink of man with sinful eyes and a mouth that begged to be teased. Jacques seemed like a man who didn’t smile enough. She ached to ease some of the burden that weighed him down.

There.

Jacques stood with two men near the middle of the dungeon. She wove through the crowds, thicker than usual thanks to the holidays. He must have sensed her gaze because he turned.

He tipped his head sideways. She followed the motion, spying a piece of unoccupied equipment.

Odalia nodded and strode toward the free-standing beam. It was a seven-foot post set into a wooden platform measuring four feet by four feet. There were holes drilled through the wood for various purposes.

If Jacques wouldn’t talk about their mutual attraction, maybe he could act on it.

She stepped onto the platform and turned as Jacques reached her, his play bag slung over his shoulder. For a moment their gazes locked, and she wondered what he would do. The lust and adrenaline ricocheting between them all day had grown stronger until she ground her teeth together every time she glanced at the man or caught the scent of his cologne.

How long would Jacques hold out on her? How long would he resist whatever
this
was?

He reached out and caressed the outer curve of her breast with his finger. Her nipples tightened, and her breath hissed between her teeth. Still their gazes remained connected.

“You sure you want this,
bébé
?” His voice held dark promise. Pain and pleasure, screams and sighs.

“
Laissez les bons temps roule
r
,” she replied.
Let the good times roll
.

“
Bon
.” He pinched her nipple between his knuckles, dragging his thumb over the peak.

She gasped and arched toward him, whimpering as she danced along the edge of pain and pleasure. He twisted the flesh, and her whimper turned into a moan. She let herself fall forward, against his chest, fisting his shirt in her hands. The platform gave her enough lift that she could reach his mouth.