Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Paula was running late in more ways than one.
She had been held up at work, booking a suspect in a burglary case, and she needed to pick up groceries for the dinner she was supposed to be cooking at Jackson’s.
She’d skipped her regular shopping day, believing she could get by with what she had in her fridge, and she was fully expecting punishment for at least one of those infractions.
A cold rain was falling, and the weather forecast had predicted a fifty percent chance of changing to freezing rain, sleet, snow, or all three.
As irritating as the rain was, she hoped that was all the city would have to deal with that night.
She postponed calling Jackson and hoped to blame her delay completely on the booking and not the groceries.
Quiktrip should have everything she needed, but unfortunately, the closest one en route to Jackson’s condo was not in the greatest neighborhood. Jackson would expect her to go around the entire area, but the location didn’t bother her, and she felt capable of defending herself in any situation.
As she drove through the rain, she considered her position.
Should she go ahead and call Jackson now and confess all?
She really didn’t want to be punished. The groceries were a simple oversight, and booking the suspect was work.
She would bluff her way through it and hope for the best. Surely, it wasn’t that big a deal.
She pulled into the Quiktrip, glad for the overhang that would protect her from the worst of the rain once she got under it. She gathered her coat to get out of the car when she noticed two young men pulling stocking caps over their heads as they approached the door.
She couldn’t see where the suspicious-looking men had come from.
If she was lucky, the store’s security camera would have it.
She debated calling for backup but that would take too long.
She was perfectly capable of taking down the two inside.
Without further thought, she made sure her Glock 22 was loaded and that she had two sets of handcuffs in her pocket.
She moved through the rain to the shelter of the store, and three more steps brought her to the door.
Everything looked normal inside, but she couldn’t see the counter from where she stood.
She held her gun in her coat pocket as she entered.
The bell on the door chimed as she went in, and she worked to stay calm even as her adrenaline kicked in.
She headed straight for the refrigerated section, using her peripheral vision to note one of the perps at the counter with a weapon pointed at the young female cashier.
She wasn’t afraid of him but had to locate the other one before he could jump her. She ducked into an aisle.
“Who came in?” the perp at the counter called. “Get over here where I can see you.” As he spoke, she saw the second man at the other end of her aisle raising his shaking gun toward her. The way he held the sidearm told Paula he had no experience with it.
From her crouch, Paula raised her weapon.
“Police. Put your weapon down.” Faced with a gun aimed at him, the young man dropped his own.
“Get on the ground. Face on the floor, hands behind your head.” She moved quickly to get his gun and cuff him then turned in the direction of the counter.
“I’ve got your partner. I suggest you lay down your weapon, too.
” She couldn’t see him yet, but she hadn’t heard any sound of movement.
She headed to the front of the store, and as she came to the end of the aisle, she risked a glance around the edge.
The partner was pointing his gun not at her, but at the floor, apparently undecided about his course of action.
“Put down your weapon and get on the ground, now.” Paula was thrilled when the perpetrator did as ordered.
“Kick the gun toward me and get on your knees.” As he obeyed, she turned to the cashier.
“Call 911.” She cuffed the perp then moved the two together so she didn’t have to split her focus.
She removed their caps only to discover that her perpetrators looked to be no more than fifteen.
What had prompted them to try something so foolish? They didn’t look any older than Josh.
The cashier came back and said, “The police are on their way.”
“Good job. What’s your name?”
“Candace. Candace Winters.”
“Hi Candace. I’m Paula. Do the security cameras work?”
“Yes, ma’am. At least I think so.”
“Call your manager and get them down here. We’re going to want a close look at the video.” They both turned toward the door as they heard multiple sirens approaching. A few moments later, two uniformed police entered, weapons drawn.
“Detective Seargeant Stone. Here’s my badge. These two jokers tried to rob the place.”
A plainclothes officer entered, and the first uniform called, “All clear, sir.” Paula looked up, pleased to see her partner, Detective Bill Christopher, had gotten the call. “Bill. I thought you were off tonight?”
“No, I traded with Shepherd for on-call. I’ve got a date tomorrow night. What do we have here?”
“I hope it’s the break we’ve been needing on the convenience store robberies.
We’ll see what these two have to say when we get them back to the station.
The manager is on his way, and the cashier let him know we need the video from the security cameras.
Especially the one outside. I didn’t see where the kids came from. ”
Paula parked her car and went up to Jackson’s condo. It was now almost 11:00 pm and she was afraid of what his reaction would be, but what could she have done? It was work.
Okay, maybe she should have called. That was what people did when they were running late or got held up. Normally, she would’ve sent a quick text, maybe even called on the drive. But tonight... she hadn’t.
She could tell herself it was because she’d been caught up in paperwork, interviews, and the kind of detail-choked chaos that sucked up hours without warning, but that wasn’t the whole truth.
She hadn’t called because some part of her hadn’t wanted to. Because calling would’ve meant admitting that she owed him something—an explanation, a heads-up, consideration. And that felt dangerously close to vulnerability.
Still, standing at his door now, she wondered if her silence had done more damage than a missed dinner ever could.
“Paula, where have you been? I’ve been worried sick. Why didn’t you call or answer your phone?” He looked relieved, and she hurried to press a kiss to his unresponsive lips.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket, only then realizing she’d had it off since she’d entered the Quiktrip.
Fifteen texts and ten missed calls. Oops.
“Well, I got hung up at work booking a suspect and then when I was on the way here, there was more work, and I forgot about the phone.” Surely he would allow her to explain, wouldn’t he?
“I’m really sorry I’m late, Sir.” Paula told him what had happened.
To her bewilderment, his face grew more and more stern as she related the evening’s events.
When she finished, she was confused and didn’t know what to expect. She’d done a good job, hadn’t she? Why was he so mad? Yes, sure she was late, but she had a damn good reason. She’d prevented an armed robbery.
“Strip and kneel.” Jackson stood with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He looked as cold, hard, and immovable as a marble statue as she complied with his order. “I’m not pleased with you and the decisions you made today, Paula.”
If his posture or tone of voice weren’t enough, the use of her given name instead of Melda told her he was upset with her.
Jackson ticked off her infractions on his fingers.
“One: knowing you’re going to be late and not calling; two: ignoring your phone for hours; three: not calling for backup; four: attacking not one but two armed men; five: not wearing your vest when going into an armed situation—and all because you didn’t do the shopping when you were supposed to.
” He held up his hand with outstretched fingers.
“This is serious, Paula, and I can’t and won’t let you off easily.
You’ve earned five strokes with my belt on your bare bottom. ”
Paula looked up at him in horror. He’d never used a belt on her before. “B-but, Sir?—”
He halted her words with a stern shake of his head. “Are you my submissive?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Did you do the shopping when you were scheduled to?”
She dipped her head lower. “No, Sir.”
“Were you late tonight?”
“I was, but I—” Again she was silenced by a disapproving stare and a shake of the head. She sighed. “Yes, Sir.”
“Were you supposed to call or text me if something happened?”
“Yes, b—” She didn’t need to see him shake his head. He was right, but the circumstances had forced her to. “Yes, Sir.” Why was she crying?
“Go to the bedroom and take my old leather belt from the back of the closet. Place the belt on the pillow and bend over the bed. I’ll follow you in a minute or two.”
Paula nodded and rose. She made the walk on wooden legs, found the belt, and placed it as instructed. Bending over the bed was harder than confronting the perps earlier.
The waiting felt like hours, but eventually she heard Jackson approach. Paula stifled the urge to lift her head. She could hear him pick up the belt, the buckle jingling.
He spoke. “Neither of us is going to enjoy this, but it’s necessary.
You need to know that the rules are there for a reason, and I’ll enforce them.
I need to know that you’ll respect them and me by following them.
After this punishment, your slate is clean, but if you can’t tolerate this, you can use your safeword, and we’ll find an alternative punishment. Is that clear, Paula?”
She stiffened, hearing her name again. “Y-yes, Sir,” she said unsteadily.
“You’re going to count and thank me after every stroke,” he said.
“Yes, Sir.”
She hadn’t finished her answer as a loud whack reverberated through the room . The sting came a moment later, and she let out a stuttered, “O-one, t-thank you, S-sir.”
Whack ! “T-two, thank you, Sir.”
Whack ! Fuck, against the backs of her legs, Ow, ow, ow.
Silence.
“Three, thank you, Sir,” she sobbed.
Whack! Whack! “F-four, Thank you, Sir. F-five, t-thank you, Sir.”
She sagged on the bed, and the mattress dipped under his weight.
He stroked her back and shoulders as she cried into the comforter, murmuring words she couldn’t understand over her own sobs. Slowly, she calmed and lifted her head. Jackson smiled at her and stroked her cheek. “Stay here and let me clean you up.”
He went out and returned with a washcloth, a towel, and a jar. He cleaned her face first, but when she tried to rise, he pressed her upper body against the bed. “Stay still. I want to take care of the marks.” He held up the jar. “This is arnica ointment to help prevent bruises.”
He unscrewed the lid and applied the cream on every stripe he’d put on her backside.
Ow, ow, ow.
Paula fought, but he pinned her down mercilessly. Only after he was satisfied with the result did he help her stand.
She struggled to come to terms with what had happened. Part of her understood his actions, but still she was mad. She had been doing her job!
Forcing herself to stand on wobbly legs, she pushed her hair behind her ears with trembling hands. Jackson reached for her, and she stepped back, avoiding his touch.
“Melda?”
Was there hurt in his voice? Why would he feel hurt? She was the injured party here! Her shock, disbelief, and pain made way for more anger.
“You promised you would never interfere with my work.”
Jackson looked at her as though he didn’t understand her emotion.
“You willingly put yourself at risk with that stunt you pulled.” He raked his hand through his hair, pushing it into messy disarray.
“You shouldn’t have been there, and you wouldn’t have been if you’d done your shopping when you were supposed to.
You agreed to take care of yourself, and that includes not putting yourself in harm’s way when you don’t have to! ”
Paula fumed. “I wasn’t harmed!”
“Sheer luck!” he countered.
“What the hell!” she yelled. “Luck had nothing to do with it. I’m a damn good cop, Jackson. I knew what I was doing!”
“You were lucky, Paula! It was a reckless stunt! You don’t walk in on something like that without any backup!
You keep a perfectly good bulletproof vest in your car and didn’t bother to put it on, even though you knew the perps were armed!
” Jackson started pacing, still running his hand through his hair.
She’d never seen him this agitated and frustrated.
Had she done this to him? Her anger faded as she considered the events from his point of view.
She had been impulsive. The robbery could have gone differently if the perps had been experienced.
He was right about the vest, too. Why hadn’t she taken the time to put it on?
And yes, she should have done the shopping before.
What did this mean for them? He said the punishment wiped the slate clean, but she didn’t feel any better, and he was still upset.
Why would he want a relationship with her? She was too old for him, too focused on work, too self-centered to ever be a good submissive. Why had she agreed to try? This was the proof she needed that she wasn’t fit for any kind of serious relationship.
“What are you doing?”
Jackson’s question made her realize she was fumbling with the clasp of the delicate collar he’d placed around her neck less than two months ago. She would not cry! She wouldn’t!
With jerky movements, Paula unclasped the symbol of their bond and placed it on the table. “This won’t work, Jackson. I’m going. It—It’s better this way.”
Paula started to walk away. Jackson gulped in an audible breath, and she couldn’t look at him.
If she did, she would cave and fall to her knees and beg for forgiveness.
She couldn’t stay. She wasn’t sorry for what she had done, and she would probably do the same thing the next time.
She would keep disappointing him until he would only look at her with contempt.
She squared her shoulders with resolve. Maybe if she told herself often enough this was for the best, she would start to believe it.
She made it to the entryway, dressed and was out the door.
She managed to hold back her tears until she reached her car.