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19

JOANNA

I moaned against West’s mouth, breathing in his familiar minty scent.

The way he’d been looking at me…

Holy crap, the way he’d been gazing at me as if I’d handed him the world made me believe—finally—that not everything between us was a lie. He really did have feelings for me. He cared. And while I was absolutely the wronged party in this scenario, he’d been hurting too.

I relaxed into his embrace, and when his tongue traced the seam of my lips, I parted them and shivered as he deepened the kiss.

West consumed me. His kiss, his scent, his possessive grip on my hips. He surrounded me. I couldn’t breathe without sharing his air. I couldn’t move without savoring the delicious friction between our bodies.

However hard I may have tried to keep a distance between us, it was time to admit the truth. My stupid heart belonged to West. Whether his name was Gallo, Conti, or something else.

I was his.

But then, just as I was sinking into the moment, he pulled back.

“Don’t,” I murmured, tugging him closer. If he gave me time to think, I might decide that this was all too much, too soon after his betrayal. Better not to take the chance. “I want you.”

He kept his lips off mine. The inches separating us felt like miles. “Are you sure? There’s no hurry. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

“I’m sure.” I pressed myself against him, urging him to continue.

Please don’t make me stop and think this through. For once, I don’t want to be sensible.

“What do you want?” he asked quietly.

“For you to take control the way you used to.” I couldn’t imagine anything better. I had a submissive streak in bed. I wasn’t a submissive in terms of enjoying a BDSM lifestyle, but I’d spent so much of my working life fighting for respect that it was nice to be able to stop taking charge and let someone else call the shots for a while.

West’s lips curved wickedly. “Then that’s what you’ll get, sweetheart. How far do you want this to go?”

I huffed in frustration, ready for the conversation to be over. “I want you naked and inside me.”

His eyes shone with pleasure, and for a moment, he was the charming bartender I’d met in that train station in Canada, but then any trace of lighthearted emotion vanished, and he became the commanding lover who’d always driven me out of my mind.

The man, I suppose, he truly was.

Dangerous. Thrilling. Competent in the sexiest possible way.

“Wait here for a full minute, then come to the bedroom. Our bedroom.” His strong hand wrapped around one side of my throat. “What do you say if you need to stop?”

“Red.”

“And if you want to pause?”

“Orange.”

“Good, baby.” His voice was a low purr that hummed through my core. “What are you right now?”

“Green.”

“Perfect.” He released me and stalked toward the bedroom. My gaze traveled down his powerful frame, noting the bulge of his erection struggling to break free of his jeans.

Fuck, he was sexy.

And once again, he was mine.

I counted to sixty in my head, then followed him to the bedroom. I gasped, my mouth falling open, and my brain almost short-circuited. The room was dark, except for a glow cast by a lamp on the nightstand. It cast shadows over the gorgeous planes of West’s naked form.

He lay in the center of the bed, propped up against the pillows, his legs stretched out and his hard cock resting on the corrugated muscles of his abdomen. My gaze traced the contours of his body, the bulges of his muscles emphasized by the play of dark and light.

“Strip,” he rasped. “Make it slow. I want to be teased. It’s been too long since I saw you.”

My breath caught. He wanted me to put on a strip show for him?

Heat blossomed at the apex of my thighs. Perhaps I should have been put off by the demand, but I couldn’t think of anything sexier than showing West everything he’d been missing out on. Maybe then he’d know better than to betray me again.

I unbuttoned my shirt, allowing the two sides to fall open to reveal my breasts and stomach. West’s hands fisted and he slowly opened them and propped them behind his head. I shrugged the shirt off. It landed on the floor with a rustle. West’s strong thighs strained, as if it was a struggle for him to remain where he was.

I turned away from him so he could only see my back as I undid the clasp of my bra and allowed it to fall. It was plain black, nothing fancy, but the silken glide of the cups over my skin as they dropped made it feel sexy. I covered my breasts with my hands and turned back to West.

He groaned. “I said tease, not torture.”

I smirked at the gravelly roughness of his voice. Yeah, he knew he’d messed up. He was lucky I was allowing him to touch me again.

I released my breasts, relishing the hitch in his breathing as I bared them to him. I bent, angling myself so he could see both my ass and my chest as I pulled my socks off one by one. Not an inherently sexy act, but the way his emerald eyes watched my every movement told me he found it enticing anyway.

I undid the button at the top of my pants and wriggled my hips back and forth as I slid them down.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Good girl. Naked except for your panties. Take them off too. I want to see all of you.”

I plucked the fabric at the edges of my panties, acting like I was about to remove them before pausing.

“Now,” he growled.

The heat at my core turned molten. I did as he said, then ran my hands up and down my body as he feasted on me with his eyes.

I’d never considered myself a seductive person before West entered my life. I wasn’t a curvaceous siren like Sasha Sloane, or a classic blonde like Portia. But from the beginning, West had made me feel desirable. Perhaps I’d forgotten that for a while, or questioned it, but I no longer did.

He wanted me.

West rose from the bed and prowled toward me. He grabbed me by the hips and claimed my mouth. Our kiss earlier had been slow and sensual, but this one was ravenous.

“Have you punished me enough, sweetheart?” he asked, pulling back far enough to speak clearly, but his breath tickled my lips. “Can I touch your hot-as-fuck body now?”

“Yes.”

Please.

“Good. Get on the bed. Legs spread. Knees up. I’m going to make you feel good, and you’re just going to lie there and take it.”

I whimpered. “Okay.”

I lay down and parted my thighs, lifting my knees a little to tilt my pussy up. His gaze journeyed down my body, leaving a trail of heat everywhere it went. He climbed onto the bed and lowered himself between my thighs, his gaze holding mine. Then he covered me with his mouth and his eyelashes fluttered closed.

He moaned, and the vibrations set me alight. I dropped my head to the pillows and stared up at the ceiling as he licked down the center of my sex and fastened his mouth around me again, his stubble scraping against my tender flesh and sending sparks skittering down my spine.

“You taste so fucking good.” He buried his face against me and did things with his lips and tongue that had me arching my hips and squeezing my eyes shut as I struggled not to be overwhelmed by him.

He teased me until I was panting, then sat back on his heels. He studied me for just long enough that I began to blush before scrabbling to find a condom in the nightstand. He slid it on and knelt over me.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Green.”

He grinned and positioned himself at my entrance. Then, in one smooth motion, he thrust inside. My head fell back, and I moaned. He filled me so well. As if he was made for me. He leaned over me, grabbed my wrists, and pinned them to the bed.

“Take it.” He rolled his hips, seating himself deeper inside me, then withdrew. Green eyes burned down into mine as he repeated the movement, brushing my clit. “You feel so good. So hot and tight for me.”

“S’good,” I slurred, pleased when he kissed me again.

My mind emptied. All that existed was the man who dominated my senses. His tongue tasted faintly of our abandoned dinner, and whenever I gasped for breath, his minty aroma filled my lungs. He pressed down on me, fucked me, and all I could do was lie there and let it happen.

He was so strong, I couldn’t move my hands if I wanted to. He weighed me down, and in doing so, set me free.

“Am I good?” I asked as he broke away from my mouth.

“Perfect.” He kissed me. “You’re so good for me, sweetheart. So fucking good.”

I shifted my hips, rocking into him. He pushed into me again and again, nudging my clit each time, sending me higher. For a moment, I felt almost lazy, but then I reminded myself: this was what West wanted. For me to lie here and take everything he gave me.

A thrill of excitement shot through me. I whimpered. West groaned.

“Fuck, baby, you’re killing me. Are you gonna come for me?”

“Yes,” I promised, moving sinuously, chasing my release.

“That’s it, Jo. That’s my woman.”

My gaze met his, and I gasped. Adoration gleamed back at me, with a savage edge that only made it more potent. I sobbed his name as I shuddered and came apart beneath him. His lower body jerked as he lost his last thread of control. His hips snapped and he swore as he jerked inside me, emptying into the condom.

We twitched in each other’s arms as we came down from the high of orgasm. He kissed my forehead and rolled off me. He tied off the condom and tossed it toward the trash can, then gathered me into his arms.

“That was incredible,” he murmured against my hair. “I know it’s an honor you’ve trusted me again, and I won’t let you down. Does this… does this mean you’re mine?”

“I—” A shrill ringing pierced the sex-drunk fogginess of my mind. I frowned. “What’s that?”

“Ugh. My work phone.” He looked torn. He clearly wanted to ignore it and finish our conversation, but he knew it could be something important.

“Answer it,” I said.

He scowled, but he dug his phone out of his discarded jeans pocket all the same. “This better be fucking important,” he growled into the receiver.

A few seconds later, he paled. “What happened to Portia?”

WEST

“She didn’t turn up to dance tonight,” the woman repeated. She hadn’t given me her name, but considering how I’d answered the phone, I couldn’t blame her.

“And that’s unusual?” I was pretty sure it was, but it paid to clarify.

“Yes.” She sounded impatient, but there was a trace of fear in her voice too. “She always turns up for her shifts. It’s how she hooks clients for her other job.”

“You’re sure she’s not just late?”

“She’s never late,” the woman insisted. “She’s not answering her phone either. Look, I can’t talk now. I have to go back on stage. Can you meet me out behind the Red Door at eleven?”

I checked the time. That was an hour away.

“I’ll be there.” I hesitated. “Who am I talking to?”

“Sapphire.” She hung up.

I stared at the phone, stunned.

Fuck, I hoped Portia had taken a nap and slept through her alarm or been distracted by an emergency. If someone had gotten wind of her poking her nose into Sasha Sloane’s death, I shuddered to think what might happen—and it would be my fault. I was the one who’d recruited her to gather information.

“Portia is missing?” Joanna asked, already clambering off the bed and searching for her clothes. I felt a pang of regret over our moment having ended so quickly—my work interfering, once again—but I couldn’t leave Portia if she was in trouble.

“Yeah.” I pulled myself together and started dressing too. “She didn’t turn up for her shift at the Red Door.”

“Which is obviously out of character, or no one would have been concerned,” she said.

“Exactly.” I paused, my shirt halfway over my head. “I’m, uh, sorry about this.”

She huffed. “It’s just the way things are until the case is over.”

I tugged the shirt down. “I wish it wasn’t.”

“Me too. So, who made the call?”

“Sapphire. One of the dancers. ”

Her brow furrowed. “Ah, yes. We met her.”

“She says that Portia isn’t answering her phone, and considering how much she wanted answers, it’s not outside the realm of possibility that she decided to get them for herself.”

Joanna winced as she tugged on her pants. “For her sake, I hope she’s just sick and forgot to mention it to anyone.”

“Me too.” But it didn’t seem likely.

We were both dressed now—unfortunately—and I took a brief moment to study Joanna’s face. I wished I could tell how she was feeling about the fact we’d just had sex. It meant the world to me that she trusted me enough to be vulnerable and let her submissive side show, but she’d quickly become all business.

Did this mean she wouldn’t dump my ass as soon as the case was done, or had it been one last romp to remember her by?

“Let me just grab a jacket,” she said, smoothing her clothes. “It’s cold outside.”

“Good idea.”

She left the room, and I slung my own jacket over my shoulder, holstered my handgun and double checked that I had everything I needed. I met Joanna in the living room.

“My car?” I asked.

She nodded. “You’ll fly under the radar better than me.”

She unlocked the door and let herself out of the apartment. I followed, locking it behind us again. We walked together to the car, and I automatically got into the driver’s seat and leaned across to open the passenger’s door.

“Is the brothel in the same neighborhood as the strip club?” Joanna asked as she got in.

I waited for her to shut the door before backing out and pulling onto the street. “It’s a couple of blocks away, where there are a few more residential buildings. My understanding is that it’s close by so that escorts can easily take clients from the strip club to the brothel if they need to.”

“So, it will be easy to drop by and ask if Portia is around,” she said.

“Yeah, but let’s save that for a last resort. The fewer people aware of a connection between Portia and me, the better.” Introducing myself to her acquaintances would only endanger her more.

I parked behind the Red Door, in the darkest corner of the parking lot, away from prying eyes, and sent a message to the number Sapphire had called from to let her know we were there. She emerged through the back exit a few minutes later, drawing a coat tightly around herself as she hurried across the asphalt on three-inch heels.

She opened the back door and climbed into the car. The scent of her perfume—sweet and floral—wafted through the vehicle.

“Something strange is going on,” she said, not bothering with a greeting.

I turned as much as I could to face her. I recognized her immediately, although I hadn’t put a face to the name. She was a pretty black woman with long, dark hair that fell around her shoulders and a plump lip caught between her teeth.

“How do you mean?” I asked.

Sapphire glanced at Joanna and frowned. “Hey, you’re that detective lady.”

“I am,” she agreed.

Sapphire narrowed her eyes at me. “Why did you bring her?”

“Because she’s my wife, and we were together when you called.”

“Oh.” She seemed to accept that. “Like I was saying, something is off tonight. Portia has been asking questions about Sasha’s death. They were close, so that’s not surprising. We all want to know what happened. But then she didn’t turn up for work, and now she isn’t answering her phone. When I asked the boss whether she’d called in sick, he was really squirrelly about it.”

“Squirrely how?” Joanna asked.

Sapphire pulled a face and looked over her shoulder, as if worried Keenan might be able to hear her. “He said she hadn’t called in sick but that there was no reason to worry. He was really calm about it though. Usually, if someone isn’t here, he loses his shit because everything has to be rearranged last minute.”

“So, you think he knew not to expect her ahead of time?” I didn’t like the thought of that.

Sapphire shrugged. “Maybe.”

“So, how come you called me?” None of Portia’s friends should’ve known who I was, let alone had my phone number.

She looked uncomfortable. “She told me that if she ever went missing, or if something happened to her, then I should contact you. She didn’t tell me why. Was I right to call?”

“Yes. Thank you, Sapphire.” I supposed I couldn’t be annoyed with Portia for sharing my number under those circumstances.

“Are you her boyfriend?” she asked, glancing at Joanna apologetically.

“No, just a friend. Did she have a boyfriend?” Because she never mentioned one to me.

She shrugged. “Not that I know of, but most of the girls here like to keep their personal lives private.”

“I can understand that.” Mixing my work and home lives hadn’t always gone well. Obviously.

“When did you last see Portia?” Joanna asked, picking up the line of questioning. “Was she here yesterday?”

Sapphire shook her head. “She was scheduled to work at her other job. But she was in the night before last.”

Joanna pulled out her phone and entered something into it. Perhaps a note to follow up with the brothel. I might need to remind her that if Portia is missing because of Ortez, then alerting his staff that someone is looking into her disappearance isn’t necessarily the best idea for her continued wellbeing.

“Did you notice anyone paying particular notice to her that night?” Joanna asked, looking up.

Sapphire started to say no, but then she paused, a furrow forming between her eyebrows. “Actually, yeah. There was a guy. He wasn’t one of her clients. He just kind of stood near the back of the club until the end of the night, but I saw him going over to her as I was heading out to change.”

The back of my neck prickled. My instincts told me we were onto something here.

“What did he look like?” I asked, trying to keep my tone level.

She squeezed her eyes shut.” Uh… maybe in his fifties. Stocky. A bit overweight. Thinning gray hair. Actually, come to think of it, I’m pretty sure he was the other detective with you last time we talked.”

Joanna and I exchanged a glance. Detective Hanson. But what did it mean that he’d been here?

“That’s helpful. Thank you. Do you have any idea where Portia would go if she needed to lie low?”

“I don’t know, sorry.” She adjusted her long legs in the cramped back of the car. “Before, I’d have said to Sasha, but now, I have no idea. I could be overreacting though. Maybe she’s at her apartment. ”

“We’ll check there,” I assured her. “In fact, we’ll go there now. Can we give you a ride anywhere first?”

She pursed her lips. “I’m due back on the floor in a few minutes. Good luck though.”

“Thanks for calling.” Joanna smiled at her. “That was brave.”

Sapphire exhaled roughly. “It’s the right thing to do. I’d better go.”

She pushed the door open and clambered out, then quietly clicked it shut. She shivered as she crossed the parking lot. I didn’t blame her. The outside air was bitter, and her legs were almost bare.

“You have Portia’s address, I assume?” Joanna asked.

“Yeah. I haven’t been there, but I was sure to take note of it in case I ever needed it.”

I plugged the address into the GPS, started the engine, and pulled out of the lot.

The drive was longer than I’d expected. I’d assumed Portia lived nearby, but she was a couple of suburbs over, in a solidly middle-class area with tidy apartment buildings and a few standalone houses.

“Do you think there’s anything Hanson might have wanted to talk to Portia about?” I asked Joanna as we made our way inside.

Joanna cocked her head in thought. “There would be legitimate reasons to question her about our case, but none of the dancers mentioned her when we visited the Red Door together, and he hasn’t said anything about other leads. Of course, there’s a good chance he didn’t tell me because he doesn’t trust me.”

“Or that he’s up to his neck in this.” The words fell between us like bombs. I didn’t want to say it, but I had to, and from Joanna’s expression, I knew she understood.

“It’s a possibility,” she allowed as we entered the foyer. “Stairs or elevator?”

“Divide and conquer?”

She grimaced. “I’d prefer not to separate, but we don’t want to miss anyone coming the other way. Stay armed at all times. I’ll take the stairs.”

I grinned. “My legs thank you.”

She rolled her eyes. “You think I don’t know how fit you are?”

I just laughed and crossed to the elevator. I pushed the button for the fourth floor and waited for the doors to close. The elevator rose slowly, and by the time the doors opened, and I stepped out into a corridor, Joanna was already striding toward me, panting.

“You must have moved quickly,” I said.

She smirked. “I’ve been known to. Which door is hers?”

I glanced at the number on the two doors nearest us, then jerked my thumb to the left. “That way.”

Portia’s apartment was the second from the end. The door was closed, and when we paused outside, I couldn’t hear anything within.

I reached for the handle, and beside me, Joanna raised her gun.

“Chicago Police Department,” she called. “Open up.”

There was no response.

I turned the handle. To my surprise, it opened. The lock mechanism had been broken, and as I looked inside, my breath caught.

Portia’s apartment had been trashed.