Chapter Six
Donovan
I was in the process of trying to call a cab on my phone when soft knocking on the front door reached my ears.
What the fuck?
Maybe Codi? The driver who’d brought me home the night of the shooting? I doubted either Thomas or Seamus would be here as they both had young children and lived on opposite sides of the city.
Taking cabs was expensive, but I wasn’t willing to risk public transit where someone might jostle my arm.
That and I still felt too exposed—too raw—to venture out in such a public way.
My face had appeared, along with Cole’s, in several news stories.
I didn’t flatter myself that everyone in Vancouver would recognize me, but it would take only one or two to make things difficult.
The knock sounded again as I hustled down the stairs.
Well, walked awkwardly while trying not to move my upper torso too much. My arm ached like an SOB today.
I swung open the door, a little disconcerted to find it unlocked, then the night before flooded back.
Just as I came face-to-face with the man of my dreams.
One of the men of my dreams, I corrected.
Tyson held up a bottle of organic carrot juice. “You said something about a spinach smoothie? Or someone did. I couldn’t find—”
“This is perfect.”
“I thought…” He peered up at me. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay. And you’re on my way to work, right? I thought if you needed a lift, I can get you most of the way to wherever you’re going.”
“The studio.”
“Well, I can drive you there.”
“The studio is about fifteen klicks past your office.”
“More like ten…and I’m sure I can find some excuse to meet with someone there. There’s a guy who works in Meggibeth’s department…” He winced when he said her name.
“It’s okay. I’m slowly accepting this new reality.” I scratched my nose with my good hand. “Let me get my wallet and phone. Did you plug it in last night?”
Tyson nodded.
“Yeah, you’re a good guy. Of course, I drug dialed Doc after I woke up…
” After having dropped that little tidbit, I made my way back upstairs to grab everything.
When I worked, I always took my gym bag with me.
Today, like yesterday, I didn’t want to be encumbered.
My wallet and cell phone would suffice. With a couple of doses of painkillers in my pocket just in case.
And, of course, my sunglasses. The meteorologist predicted sunny skies, and my sensitive eyes struggled with the bright light that shone not only in the sky but also reflected off the snow on the ground. Snow that would soon melt as a warm front was predicted with lots and lots and lots of rain.
At the moment, though, the morning light only peeked over the eastern horizon, so I tucked my sunglasses in the neck of my T-shirt.
“You going to be warm enough?”
Tyson’s words greeted me as I ambled down the stairs.
The man held up his hands. “Sorry. You’re an adult—you know what you’re doing.”
“I have a sweatshirt at work I can put on if I get cold. And we’re not going back to the crime scene, so I won’t be hanging around outside for long today.”
Before Tyson could exit the front door, I snagged him around the waist and pulled him close. I whispered, “Good morning,” before planting a kiss on his lips. Chaster than I would’ve liked, but we didn’t have time for more. And more might lead to me trying to drag the man up and into my bed.
He stiffened and then, after a moment, sank into the kiss.
I nipped his lower lip.
He opened his mouth on a sigh.
Taking full advantage, I dove in for a deeper kiss. I dominated—thrusting my tongue in and demanding reciprocity.
He met me at every turn.
Finally, I pulled our bodies flush together. As cock brushed cock through denim, I thrust my hips, seeking friction.
“We can’t.” He said the words as he pulled back.
“Ten minutes. Mutual blow jobs. We don’t even need a bed.”
Tyson chuckled. “You’re going to be the ruin of me.”
“But what a way to go.” I tried for a lascivious leer.
My attempt fell flat as his eyes sharpened. “All I have is my job, Donovan. I lost just about everything else in the divorce. If I’m not a cop, then I’m not anything.”
“That sounds a little extreme.”
“How would you survive if you couldn’t be a stunt coordinator?”
“I’d become a professional Dom.”
His eyes widened.
I chuckled. “Yes, a professional Dominant. And I’d do quite well at it.” I cupped his cheek. “But you’re right—I’d miss the set every day. Miss my coworkers. I’m lucky that my job’s secure.”
“No morality clause?”
I guffawed. “Would my boss fire me if he found out I liked to whip women and fuck men into submission while chaining them to my wall after flogging them? Nah. Valentino’s pretty progressive, and plenty of people in the movie business dabble in elements of BDSM and other, uh, kinky pursuits.
Our props master is way kinkier than me.
Oh, the stories I could tell you. What she gets up to… ”
“We need to go.” Tyson’s cheeks held a pinkish tone.
“You embarrassed?”
He shook his head. Then pressed another kiss to my lips. “Intrigued. Like I said, you’ll be the death of me.”
He opened the front door, and a blast of cold air hit us.
I snagged my keys but fumbled.
He removed them from my hands, locked the front door, and we headed out. He pointed to my ride. “I would’ve taken you for a muscle car.”
“Cole’s influence.” The hybrid SUV was handy, economical, and didn’t contribute as much to climate change. “He’s threatening to buy me an electric vehicle, but without a garage, it’s hard to charge the thing.”
“Fair enough.” Again, Tyson opened my door.
As I slid in, I winked. “I can do up my seat belt.”
He grinned. “Yes, but it’s so much more fun when I do it.”
So I left my belt undone until the cop settled into his seat. He leaned over, and I raked my fingers through his hair, ensuring my nails scraped the scalp, as he buckled me in.
“Fuck, that’s such a turn-on.” Yet he didn’t reciprocate. Instead, he settled back in his seat, secured his seat belt, turned on the car, and smoothly pulled us onto the street. Within moments, he had us easing into rush hour traffic. “So you drug dialed the doctor? How did that go?”
I snickered softly. “About how you’d imagine. I poured out my heart to him. Talked about the shooting…I think. I also seem to recall saying something about wanting him at my mercy while you watched.”
“Like, BDSM and stuff?”
“Yeah, like BDSM and stuff. I might’ve suggested mutually agreed upon catharsis.”
Tyson turned left onto Rupert from East 14th and then quickly caught a green light and turned onto Grandview Highway.
I usually skirted down to East 1st Avenue, but I would pay attention, with intrigue, to see the route the detective took.
“Okay, I have to ask.” Mercifully, Tyson caught the advanced green and maneuvered the turn onto Boundary Road easily and settled us into the exit lane onto Highway 1. “Mutually agreed upon catharsis?”
“Well, if you don’t agree upon it, that’s rarely good. I mean, one can break someone accidentally. I had an arrangement with a woman—we’d played before, we had agreed limits, and I even did a check-in with her before I started.
“Then it all went sideways. We’d barely started when she broke down.
Cole was with me, and he escorted his partner out, and then he and I sat with the woman.
Turns out that day was the anniversary of her daughter’s overdose death.
She thought she could eradicate the memories with something new—something more pleasurable. ”
“Ouch.”
“People have all kinds of reasons for getting involved in BDSM. I never would’ve played with her, had I known.
Unless she’d asked me to break her and we’d agreed on parameters.
And Cole would’ve never brought in another person.
He would’ve sat back and observed. Made certain everyone was safe.
Anyway, we worked through some of her grief, and I convinced her she needed a counselor as much as she needed me.
Eventually, she got help.” I scratched my nose.
“And eventually, she came back, and we played once more. Things just weren’t the same, though, and she never called me again. ”
“Was that sad?” Tyson maneuvered the on-ramp, but the guy in the right lane wouldn’t yield, and we nearly ran into the barricade as the lane ended. He slammed on his brakes. “Asshole.”
Fortunately, the woman behind the asshole yielded, and Tyson was able to merge. He waved to her as he attempted to pick up speed.
“You could write a ticket.”
He waved me off. “Not worth the hassle.” He pulled into the middle lane of the highway as we headed toward the Ironworkers Memorial Bridge that would take us over to the North Shore. “So you want to break Doc…” He winced. “I shouldn’t be calling him that—you’re a bad influence.”
I snickered. “You’re only just figuring that out? A little slow on the uptake, Tyson.”
“Perhaps.” He kept his eyes on the road until we came to a dead stop on the highway.
Fucking rush hour traffic.
He cut me a look. “And you’re not answering my question. Not that you have to,” he rushed to add. “What you and Hamish said—”
“I’m willing to share. And I’m pretty sure he knows how I feel about you, and I suppose after last night’s word vomit, he knows how I feel about him as well.
” I put on my sunglasses. We were driving northward, but the sun glared from the east. Before Tyson could ask how I felt about either of them, I continued, “I see Hamish as wound pretty tight. You are as well,” I added quickly, “but he’s wound in a way that’s easily undone. So I’d take him to a dungeon—”
“Cole’s?”
I whipped my head to face him, but he just drove on as traffic crawled toward the bridge. Once the Hastings Street traffic had merged, we would pick up speed.
“Yeah, Cole’s. And I don’t know if I just gave you confirmation of something you suspected or just affirmed something you already knew.”
“Yes. Continue.”
I wasn’t certain I liked his bossy tone.
“Okay, so with Doc’s permission, I’d bring him to the dungeon.
This likely wouldn’t be the first time we played.
We would’ve warmed up to this.” I scratched my chin.
“And breaking someone isn’t just a physical thing—it’s psychological as well.
I’ll know what to say—what to do. What his pain tolerance is and what his limits are. ”
“You sound awfully sure of yourself.”
I shrugged. “The tighter they’re wound… And I’ve done this before. I mean, I’m not a master, but I’m damn good at what I do. Fifteen years is a long time to do something.”
“So did you bring Cole in or—”
“Yeah, I was at it before I even met him in theater school. We just…hit it off. And I sensed pretty quickly that he had an untapped kinky side. I’m not going to share all the details, but he’s a damn good Dominant.”
“But not as good as you.”
I burst out laughing.
It felt good.
“Close, to be sure, but no, not quite. He can be softer than I am. We’re both good at aftercare, but he’ll cuddle forever while I’m ready to move on as soon as my bottom’s okay. I’d never shove someone out the door, but I’m not sure I’d make them hot cocoa either.”
“How does he manage with his celebrity status? Why hasn’t anyone talked? And will he keep it up now that he’s romantically involved?” Tyson was finally able to pick up a bit of speed at the base of the bridge.
“I haven’t had a real heart-to-heart with him.
I mean, we talked. Well, I talked, and he listened.
Being a Dom is part of who he is—but his love for Michael and Caressa runs deeper than that, I think.
They might dabble in the future. But if they asked him to lock up the dungeon forever, I’m pretty sure he’d do it.
Damn shame—we had a lot of great nights down there.
” I glanced to the east as we passed over the bridge.
The sun shone brightly on Burrard Inlet.
“Do you have the space at your house? Or will you need to find another place to go?”
I winced. “Yeah, a no to my place. I don’t think my downstairs tenant would appreciate the noise.
I suppose if I only chose stoic partners who didn’t make any noise, but what’s the fun in that?
The key is to make your partner scream. Or yell.
Or at least vocalize their emotions. Hard to break someone if they can’t sob, you know? ”
“Not really…but I’ll take your word for it.” He eased into the gradual turn that took us west. Then he floored the gas so we would make it up the steep incline. “But you can find other places.” He said that with certainty.
“Yeah. I’ve got friends in the community—both Doms, Dommes, and subs—who’ve got places. With my talents? I’ll land okay.”
He chuckled. “I’d say you were arrogant, but I get the feeling your reputation is well deserved.”
“Well, there’s always Club Kink. You know that, right?”
“Vancouver’s premier BDSM club? Yeah, I might’ve heard of it.”
Just as we hit the Upper Levels Highway, Tyson’s phone rang through the speakers.
He glanced quickly at me.
“I’ll be quiet and not hear anything.”
He winced, turned his attention back to the road, and hit accept. “Detective Tyson—”
“It’s Mariah. We’ve got an interview with Meggibeth Smythe in one hour. Where are you? You’re always at your desk by now—”
“I’ll be there in half an hour or so. I had to make a stop this morning. Work related. I’ll see you soon.”
Before his partner could answer, he cut the call.
“Well, I guess you don’t have to make up a reason for coming in.”
“I would’ve liked to interview Meggibeth’s coworker, but that can wait. Maybe this afternoon. Maybe around four, if the guy’s available.” He exited the highway.
“So you can drive me home at five?”
He cut me a devastating grin as he pulled up to a red light. “Maybe. I don’t know how it’ll look to your bosses and coworkers—”
“Like I’m getting a ride. Discretion is always the top priority.” I winced. “I’m supposed to see Cole.”
“I can drive you again. I plan to check to see if he’ll be up for questioning.”
“Can’t it wait?”
“At some point, it has to be done. I’m sorry. I know you’re protective of your friend. But we need to do our jobs.”
“Yeah, I get it.” I might’ve grumbled that.
Understanding and accepting were two completely different things.
Yes, Tyson needed to interview Cole. And yes, I’d be protective and want to save my friend any pain—physical or emotional.
“Thanks for the ride. I’m sorry you had to come so far out of your way. ”
“It’s my pleasure, Donovan.” He pulled in front of the studio but didn’t drive up to the gate. Instead, he threw on his hazard lights. “I enjoy your company—getting to know you better. You’re…a fascinating man.”
I unclipped my seat belt, kissed him on the cheek, and was out the door before he could respond. As I walked up to the security station, I tried to refocus my mind. I needed to bring my A-game today.
Too bad my mind was with the man driving back down the mountain.