Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Jackson Cagney stared at nothing while he nursed a beer at Club Indigo.
Paula had been gone for more than ten weeks, and all he’d been able to find out was that she’d gone undercover for the State Police.
Who knew how long she would stay away? He’d been doing at least one DM shift every weekend to keep his mind off her absence.
He slumped onto the barstool, elbows braced on the polished wood surface as he exhaled slowly. Club Indigo hummed around him—soft music, murmured negotiations, the occasional crack of leather meeting flesh—but he barely registered any of it. Tonight, his usual refuge felt hollow.
If only he could talk to Paula.
But Paula had pulled a Houdini, vanishing like she’d never existed. No messages. No clues. Only silence.
He raked a hand through his hair, frustration curling in his gut like a slow burn. The worst part? He got it . He knew the job—knew the weight of it, the risks—but that didn’t make it any easier to accept.
When he was still in the same position an hour later, Scott came over to check on him. “What’s up, Jackson?
Jackson glanced up. Scott stood on the other side of the bar, wiping a glass that looked pretty dry to him.
He raised an eyebrow. “Am I talking to Scott the bartender or Scott the psychologist?”
Scott shrugged, his lips curving into a slow smile, a challenge gleaming in his eyes.
“You’ve been sitting here for an hour, your beer is untouched, and you’ve been doing the same thing every weekend for over a month now.” Scott set down the glass. “So spill.”
Jackson huffed a dry laugh. “I guess I am pretty obvious.” But he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he picked up the whiskey Scott had poured him without asking and swirled the amber liquid in the glass, watching the way the light caught it.
“I’m just—” He exhaled through his nose. “Stuck.”
Scott cocked his head. “On what?”
Jackson shrugged. “You’re a therapist. Shouldn’t you be able to tell?”
Scott’s shrug was a slow, deliberate movement. “You know that’s not how it works, but I do know you. You’re carrying something heavy tonight.”
Jackson rubbed a hand over his face, then down the back of his neck. “Yeah. And I can’t do shit about it.” He dropped his hand and stared at Scott. “You ever meet someone who just… fits? Like they walked right into your life and suddenly everything else makes sense?”
“Can’t say I have, but I guess you do?”
“Do you remember Laura’s maid of honor? I danced with her at the reception and left with her?”
“Good-looking blonde?” Scott leaned his elbows on the bar.
“That’s the one. She’s a cop, too. A little older than I am and a detective sergeant.
It also turns out that she’s submissive.
We had a fabulous night, but she snuck out before morning and went AWOL on me.
” He looked down at his drink, rolling the glass between his fingers.
“No response to my texts or calls, and then she left town on some kind of undercover operation. She’s just gone.
And I know—hell, I know she had a reason—but it still pisses me off.
No warning. No goodbye.” He clenched his jaw.
“She didn’t owe me anything, but damn, I wish she’d given me something. ”
Scott studied him for a moment then reached for the bottle and topped off Jackson’s drink.
“You ever think that maybe she left because she had to?” Scott set aside the bottle. “Not because she wanted to?”
Jackson scoffed. “Of course I’ve thought about it. That’s the only thing keeping me from hunting her down and demanding answers.”
Scott smirked. “You wouldn’t actually do that.”
Jackson dragged a hand down his face. “No, I wouldn’t, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t cross my mind.”
Scott drummed his fingers lightly against the wood. “You’re a protector, Jackson. Always have been. It’s in your nature. But sometimes protecting someone means letting them go.”
Jackson tightened his grip around the glass. “That’s what I hate. I could accept it if I knew she was okay. If I knew she was safe. But silence? That’s the hardest part.”
Scott nodded slowly. “You know, you remind me of when you first walked into my office.”
Jackson snorted. “Yeah? How’s that?”
Scott smirked. “Same look in your eyes. Like you were fighting against something you couldn’t punch your way through.”
Jackson huffed a laugh. “Well, I learned real quick I wasn’t cut out for the military. Turns out I’m too much of a protector, too little of an obedient soldier.”
Scott inclined his head. “You follow orders when they make sense, but you also question them when they don’t. That’s what makes you a damn good detective.”
Jackson swirled his whiskey again, considering it.
He did trust his instincts, and he did question things.
And maybe that was why Paula’s disappearance grated at him so much—because it didn’t make sense.
“I want to talk and maybe more, but I can’t do that if she’s not here.
I’m just marking time until she gets back.
By then, I expect she’ll have her protection as high and strong as the walls of Gondor, and I’ll never get through to her. ”
“What do you mean? You said she’s submissive.”
“I don’t think she knew that until the night of the wedding.
The only gossip about her at work is that she doesn’t date other cops.
I know she almost arrested James for assaulting Laura when they first met.
That was her first exposure to BDSM, as far as I know.
I think she ran because of her response.
I don’t know what to do when she gets back. ”
“Are you sure she’s submissive? Playing once doesn’t mean someone wants to be dominated all the time.
If she has the tendency, and this was her first experience, she’s probably confused.
That can trigger a flight response. You need to ask yourself how interested you are in pursuing a relationship with her. ”
“I’ve wanted her ever since I first saw her. I think part of what attracted me to Monica, my previous submissive, was her resemblance to Paula. That may be part of why Monica left me, too.”
“Keep on thinking about it, and you’ll find the answers.”
“Thanks, man. No really.” Jackson shook his head with a small chuckle. “You’re a great therapist, even when you’re just tending a bar.”
Scott grinned. “That’s because a bar and a therapy office aren’t all that different. People come in, spill their guts, and leave feeling lighter.”
Jackson tapped the rim of his glass against the counter before downing the last sip. The frustration hadn’t fully left him, but something else had taken its place.
Determination.
Paula was gone, but that didn’t mean he’d stop looking for answers.
He pushed the glass toward Scott. “I think I’m done for the night.”
Scott nodded. “Good. Get some sleep.”
Jackson slid off the stool, rolling his shoulders as he stood. Yeah. Maybe tonight he actually would.
“I suggest you go carefully with her.” Scott’s words halted him, and Jackson half turned to listen. “Don’t spring all of BDSM on her at once. See if you connect without it first.”
“That’s good advice, but it pre-supposes I can get her to talk to me when she gets back.” He tipped to fingers against his forehead in a silent salute and goodbye.
“I have confidence you can make that happen.” With that, Scott moved down to the far end of the bar to take care of Chris.