Razor's Edge: Men in Blue, Book 2 (32 page)

Two hours later, the squadmates sat around the living room waiting to hit the road. They’d discussed strategy, reviewed safety precautions, handed out assignments, studied diagrams of the club’s layout and finger-combed their hair.

In fifteen minutes, they’d prepared for the night with time to spare.

“What the fuck are they doing in there?” Razor shook his head when the lights dimmed for the tenth time. “Building a dirty bomb?”

“Dude, you don’t want to know how many goddamn cords there are in my bathroom these days.” Mason ticked them off on his fingers. “A blow drier, three different sizes of curling irons and some rectangular tong contraption.”

“A flat iron,” Tyler supplied with a grimace.

“Whatever.” The gruff partner shook his head. He didn’t fool anyone. He adored his two companions—beauty products and all.

“Is something on fire?” Razor sniffed the air.

“Nah. That’s the smell of hairspray burning off one of those doohickeys.”

“That can’t be good for you.” JRad covered his nose and mouth with the sleeve of his black, button-down shirt.

“I will admit, the end result is usually worth the torture.” Tyler squirmed in his seat, adjusting his package with a stealthy shift.

Clint consulted his watch for the fiftieth time in the last ten minutes. The women operated on borrowed time since the clock over the microwave read 9:02.

“Someone has to go in after them.” Matt grumbled, “And it ain’t gonna be me. That stench won’t leave my clothes. How will I find a hottie to take home when I reek of someone else’s lady?”

“This is a work outing, remember?” Mason frowned at the junior officer.

“It is until we’re finished. The minute you exit the girls from the game, Clint and I are free to do a little clubbing of our own, right? No use in wasting the entrance fees. Have you ever seen the women who hang out there?” He screwed his face into a ridiculous expression. “Like sex on heels.”

“Well thank you very much, Matthew.” Lacey blew him a kiss as she strutted into the huddle of men. She sported a purple leather mini-skirt so short and tight Razor doubted Mason would let her leave without changing.

The poor guy’s eyeballs almost bulged out of their sockets when he followed her seamed stockings to her matching platform pumps with six-inch heels. Mason cursed, his leer turning to the black and purple satin corset shoving her impressive rack up so far Razor feared her girls might tumble free.

“You really want to antagonize him, little one?” Tyler raised an eyebrow. “By the time we make it home he’ll be at the end of his rope. You know what’ll happen…”

“Yeah, I’ll turn her ass red for teasing me before we fuck her senseless.”

“Promise?” Lacey licked her glossy lips.

Razor could have sworn he heard JRad heave an envious sigh before the man averted his gaze from the sensual spectacle their friends made. Escape eluded his friend as Isabella emerged from the shadows behind them.

“Christ. How the hell are we supposed to concentrate?” JRad scrubbed his hand over his face, blocking his vision. “These are hazardous work conditions.”

Razor traced the other man’s line of sight. Then it was his turn to gawk.

Izzy prowled to his side, one hand on her hip. She wore a slinky red dress. The straps twisted around her neck. Tiny stands of ruby beads dangled from the fabric, swaying with each movement she made.

“Give ’em a spin. Show off the back. Well…what there is of it,” Lacey chuckled.

Razor swore he’d swallowed his tongue. A band no more than eight inches wide covered the bare essentials. He figured if she got carried away dancing he’d catch a glimpse of her pussy. Was she wearing anything beneath that wicked dress?

Her hair had multiplied to unbelievable proportions, sexy enough his palms itched to touch the voluminous curls and the soft tendrils artfully framing her face. Giant sparkly hoops drooped from her ears. And, holy shit, Lacey hadn’t been joking about the lipstick. A flash of imagination depicted those crimson lips wrapped around his cock, obliterating all common sense.

Platinum hair, azure eyes and her matching red nails generated coordinating hues in a vibrant palate. And that was before he noticed the thigh-high, stretch stiletto boots, which showcased her perfect legs. He’d never seen something so sinful, so alluring or so mouth-watering in all his life. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay in tonight, Izzy?”

Matt whistled when he recovered.

“As much as I’d like to…” She squirmed, pressing her thighs together. “I have to do this. Please, take me there. Everyone be extra safe. I couldn’t bear it if one of you were injured because of me.”

“Don’t worry, baby.” JRad didn’t hesitate. “We have it covered.”

“Let’s go.” Razor extended his hand to Izzy. She took it, skimming her thumb over the erratic pulse in his wrist. “The sooner we leave the sooner we come home.”

She shivered, but squeezed him harder.

JRad scanned the crowd in a never-ending cycle. The collection of beautiful people gyrating on the dance floor to Ke$ha’s “Take It Off” didn’t hold much temptation for him. Now the sounds emanating from the hallway to his left… They piqued his interest big time. Whips cracked followed by moans of women—and men—submitting to skilled Doms and loving every minute. His cock strained, harder from the cries than the sight of all the bared flesh presented before him.

He’d tried to avoid opportunities like this. There’d be no reining in the desires dissolving his control after tonight. Could he find someone here to relieve him? Could any of the women handle his true nature? He’d learned long ago that hedging—taking a taste of what he craved—only multiplied his dissatisfaction. Maybe things would turn out different this time.

He scrubbed his hand through his hair, focusing again on the task at hand.

While Razor and Izzy tore up the floor next to Mason, Tyler and Lacey, he’d been placed in charge of locating the establishment’s manager. Tracking her whereabouts proved hard enough. Pumping her for information became impossible when he couldn’t find the minx in the den of shadowy passages, private rooms and not-so-private play spaces.

Izzy hadn’t remembered anything more from visiting the club. He hadn’t figured she would. Her captors couldn’t have been stupid enough to cart her through such a public place where someone might have recognized her standout beauty. No, they’d smuggled her through the back door, straight into the dungeons he knew existed below.

The spark of desire lighting his primal instinct snuffed out when he considered how many of the women there had been forced against their will. Shit, he was fucked up. This is why he’d avoided the scene for so long. He couldn’t be trusted.

Before he could resort to self-flagellation, he spotted his prey. Black Lily. Her raven hair had been woven into a thick braid that reached well past her perfect ass. She strode through the crowd. People jumped to yield to the Mistress. Or begged to be her toy for the night. She ignored all requests, moving unaffected through the sea of willing slaves.

The black latex conforming to every curve seemed like part of her rather than clothing worn on top of her delicate frame. Her attitude and bearing erased some of her diminutive stature, but he saw straight through the persona she embraced like armor. Other than Izzy, she had to be one of the most petite women he’d ever seen.

Hell, she could be Isabella’s evil twin.

The thought had his cock throbbing in the black leather pants he’d changed into. He loved how the soft underside conformed to his legs, hips and the bulge at his crotch.

It’d been too long.

He shoved off the wall, ambling after the proprietress with lazy grace designed to mask the urgency of his strides. He’d gotten good at hiding—at playing the harmless geek. So good, he’d almost started to believe the ruse himself. One night here destroyed all that. And this time, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to lock his urges away again.

The sultry Domme stalked along the corridor, stopping to check on the observation windows of the private rooms, guaranteeing the safety of her patrons. How could she be so good at her job and, yet, be involved in the horror below?

When she reached a black door, which nearly blended into an alcove at the end of the hallway, he offered a silent cheer. Her office. He’d found it. Matt and Clint’s sketched diagrams from their prior recon hadn’t shown her hidden headquarters. He’d figured they were buried deep. Now, in the heart of the club, he’d corner her.

He’d secure the information they needed by whatever means necessary.

As the heavy metal panel swung closed, JRad thrust his thick leather boot in the crack. He dropped his shoulder and shoved through the resistance, stepping inside Black Lily’s domain in time to catch a flicker of motion in the dim recesses of the office.

His mark snatched something from the wall as she spun. Braided leather snapped in the space a fraction of an inch to the right of his face. The loud slap made him pause. Not for long. When she lashed out a second time, he was ready.

JRad launched his hand to the side, deflecting her strike. He wrapped the end of the lash in his fist then yanked. Hard.

Black Lily teetered off balance in her ridiculous, shiny black boots, which added a deceptive lift to her height with their platform soles. They were sexy as hell, he’d give her that. Practical for evading an assailant—not so much.

Instead of slamming her to the wall, he found himself cradling her close, pinning her with his bulk. His instincts reacted faster than his brain. God knew, something about this woman fired him up, turned him on and had his cock straining to burrow inside her.

“This is dangerous, cop,” she whispered, not the least bit frightened.

“You’re telling me.” JRad groaned when her lips brushed his neck with her speech. Since when did a Domme turn him on? The idea of making her submit flared as bright as the sun in his imagination. She would be glorious in her surrender. If she didn’t break. “What the fuck is happening here? You helped—”

He cut off when she bit him hard enough to leave the impression of her sharp little teeth. No one marked him. With a growl, he captured her mouth. They wrestled, tongue versus tongue, lips versus lips and teeth versus teeth until he feared he’d squash her beneath the pressure of his hold.

She blinked up at him in the near blackness, the glitter of her eyes barely visible now that his pupils had dilated. Had she been swept up by the contact the same as he had?

This
was
dangerous.

“Tell me—”

This time she shook her head. A subtle twitch, the gesture spoke volumes. She nibbled a path along his neck, gouging his palms with her nails until he bent closer. She whispered in his ear between sucks on the lobe. “They’re watching. Listening. Always. I’m sorry.”

Before he could ask what for, she’d wrenched from his hold. Lily drove her knee into his already aching balls. He doubled over, retching from the searing pain, planning decadent retribution. One day she would pay for that.

“Security, I have a pickup in my office.”

Before he’d stopped seeing stars, the door flew open behind him and two giant dudes in metal-studded leather harnesses ensnared his arms. He laughed as they dragged him from her stronghold. “Someday…”

“In your dreams, asshole.” Her reply held some truth. JRad would dream of her plenty. But he also caught the tremble in her fingers as she brought them to her swollen lips.

Oblivious to everything except having fun, Isabella reveled in the rhythm of the music pulsing through the crowd, moving them all in time to the Latin beat. She rode Razor’s thigh as they ground together. Before she could leave a slick spot on the leg of his jeans, he twirled her out and back. She shimmied her shoulders, incorporating some of the samba they needed to prepare for next week.

Beside them, Tyler entertained his partners with a ridiculous dance move that looked suspiciously like starting a chainsaw. She thought she’d imagined it when he started in on rolling the dice, then picking them up. Laughter erupted from her as Mason turned red with embarrassment. Lacey clutched her stomach. The woman tugged Tyler close to do some dirty dancing of her own, sparing them all from his antics.

“What’s this song?” Isabella screamed. She might as well have mouthed the question since she couldn’t hear herself over the intoxicating music.

Razor guided her into the crook of his arm, bending to shout near her ear. “‘Calle Ocho’. Pitbull.”

She made a mental note, hoping to convince the producers to use it for their next routine. Though, she almost forgot everything she knew when Razor dragged his palms up her thighs, over her ass. The scrap of material barely covering her allowed his fingertips plenty of access to tease her right there on the dance floor.

A glance to her left and right confirmed many of the couples engaged in their own adventures for all to see. She could hardly breathe at the thought of coming apart in her lover’s hands as they danced. Still, having an audience didn’t sit right at the moment. Anyone could be watching. Especially here.

When she tensed, James reached out to tap Mason on the shoulder. The big man turned from his lovers, who bumped and grinded before him. Razor gestured toward the sidelines with his chin. Mason nodded.

Razor tucked Izzy’s fingers into the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back. He headed for a break in the crowd. She clung for dear life as they wended through the throng. She tried to convince herself the occasional touches on her ass were accidental.

When she could hear herself think again she asked, “Where are we going?”

No answer.

They rounded a divider, coming face to face with a non-descript man perched on a stool behind a black, granite counter.

“A booth.”

The man selected a key from the pegboard to his right and tossed it to Razor. “Number seven. Thirty minutes.”

“Thanks.” Razor dragged her to a more subdued room. A couple dozen tables occupied the center of the dimly lit space. Couples, or more, chatted over glasses of wine and bottles of beer. Japanese style screens formed walls around the perimeter of the room. She gasped when she realized the bright lighting on the other side of them cast naughty shadows.