Rogue (4 page)

I shook myself slightly and tore my eyes from his almost painfully perfect face. 
I had been staring for a few heartbeats too long, so I focused on my anger with Smith
to cover my mistake.

“Kennedy gave me the assignment,” I told him steadily.  “I’m the best agent for the
op, and he knows it.  If you have a problem with that, I suggest you take it up with
him.”

Smith’s frown deepened.  “I have taken it up with him, but he won’t back down.”

“That’s probably because he’s able to rein in his chauvinistic tendencies and admit
that a woman can be a good field agent.”

Smith’s nostrils flared, and Clayton placed a restraining hand on his arm before he
could bite my head off.  He looked as though he was quite literally capable of it.

“No one’s saying you’re not good at your job, Sharon,” Clayton assured me smoothly.

And damn it if he didn’t look sincere.  His earnestness played on my infatuation,
and my aggressive stance eased.  It would have been so much easier if he were an asshole. 
He was just too damn
good
for my own good.

“But,” Clayton continued.  Ah, here came the insulting caveat.  “You’re going into
unfamiliar territory, and the boss told us you’re not keen to work with Miller.  You
have to trust him as a partner.  It’s not safe for you to put yourself in Carter’s
hands without someone with experience watching out for you.”

His lips thinned in distaste at the mention of Carter’s
hands.
  The little flutter of pleasure that his obvious protectiveness elicited was swiftly
quashed by his next words.  “And it’s especially unsafe because you have naturally
submissive tendencies.”

“I am
not
submissive!”  I snapped.  “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Abruptly, Smith stepped right into my personal space, until his body was barely an
inch from mine.  He brought that pulsing aura of power with him, and it slammed into
me, bearing down on me from where he loomed above.  His silver eyes practically glowed
as they bored down into mine.  Instinctively, I lowered my gaze in the wake of that
penetrating stare.

“That’s why.”  The knowing satisfaction in his voice made me bristle, and I glared
up at him.  He had caught me off guard, damn it.

I spoke through gritted teeth.  “Maybe in your kinky little world, everyone is divided
up into Doms and subs, but that’s not how the rest of the world works.  I don’t care
about your
lifestyle
, and I’m not a part of it.  I’m taking this assignment at Decadence because I earned
it.  If Santiago can pretend to be a member of the Latin Kings, I think I can handle
pretending to be kinky.  All I have to do is act like I’m on a power trip, and I’m
a Dominatrix.  Apparently if I drop that act, I’m a submissive.  Which is complete
bullshit, by the way.  I’m a trained special agent with the FBI, and I have just as
much right to run an op as you do, regardless of the setting.”

Smith’s jaw ticked as he ground his teeth together.  “If that’s what you think being
a Dominant is about, then you have no understanding of BDSM.  Have you done any research?”

“Of course I did.  I went on the internet and-”

Smith slashed his hand through the air as though to literally cut off my speech, and
he talked right over me.  “Do you know how much bullshit there is on the internet? 
What did you do, check Wikipedia?”

I couldn’t quell the heat that rushed to my cheeks.  I
had
checked Wikipedia.  I had also watched several video clips.  But I wasn’t about to
admit that out loud, especially not in front of Clayton.

“If you insist on going through with this goddamn reckless assignment, you will at
the very least talk to someone in the lifestyle.”  Smith delivered it as an edict.

I glanced from Smith to Clayton.  They were both watching me expectantly, waiting
for something.

Oh, god.  They thought I was going to talk to
them
about kink?

“No.”  I shook my head almost wildly.  “No way.  You two stay out of my business and
stay off my op.”

Clayton sighed and shot Smith an exasperated look.  “What James meant to say was:
For your own safety, please talk to someone in the BDSM lifestyle before you go in
blind.  If you don’t want to talk to us, I’m sure Rose would-”

“No,” I cut him off.  He thought I was going to talk to his girlfriend about their
kinky relationship?  I could hardly come to terms with the idea that Clayton had adopted
that lifestyle, and I certainly hadn’t even begun to come to terms with the fact that
the knowledge had resulted in some disconcertingly hot dreams.

I softened when I was reminded of the reason I had been sent into Decadence in the
first place.  Rose had been slipped rohypnol and almost raped at the club a few weeks
earlier, and Clayton was eager to shut the place down.  He wanted someone to suffer
for what had happened to her, and neither he nor Smith could be involved in busting
the club because of their involvement on the night of the attack.  So it had fallen
to me to confirm drug use at Decadence.

“Please, Clayton.”  I tried for a more reasonable tone.  “I’m doing this for you. 
Don’t make me feel any more uncomfortable about it than I already do.”

“Talk to Miller, then,” Clayton suggested.  “I know he’s new, but he’s been a practicing
Dom for six years.  Maybe it’ll be easier to talk to someone you don’t know very well.”

Miller again.  He was going to steal the op from me if I gave him the slightest chance.

“Leave me alone, Clayton.  I’m not interested in chatting about sex with any of my
co-workers.  Is there no sense of professionalism in this unit?”

“Your safety trumps professionalism,” Smith said sternly.

If it weren’t for the fact that he was annoying the shit out of me, I might have appreciated
the fact that he felt protective.

“I can handle myself in the field.”  There was a frosty edge to my assertion.

“Spar with me,” Clayton said abruptly.

“What?”

“Spar with me.  If you pin me first, I won’t say another word about the op.  And neither
will Smith.”  He shot his friend a significant glance, and Smith nodded grimly.  “But
if you’re pinned first, you have to talk to Miller about BDSM.”

“And know that if you don’t agree, I won’t let up,” Smith warned.  “Clayton might
care about respecting boundaries, but I don’t give a shit about them.  I won’t let
you get yourself hurt just because I feel bad about annoying you.  And for the record,
I don’t feel bad about it.”

God, the man was infuriating.  And brutally honest.  Even though Smith had no regard
for rules and social niceties, he had his own strange sense of morality.  Right now,
that morality was telling him that keeping me safe was worth the cost of pissing me
off.

“Fine!  Your ass is going down, Vaughn,” I warned Clayton.  He might have a foot of
height and forty pounds of muscle on me, but I was faster than he was.  I had beaten
him before.  Sure, I ended up on the mat more often than he did, but this time losing
wasn’t an option.

My feet had barely touched the mat when Clayton came at me.  Automatically, I ducked
under his grasping arms, but my legs tangled with something solid.  Smith had tripped
me on purpose.

I went down and rolled to lessen the impact.  Before I could find my feet again, Clayton
was on me, pinning me with his forearm against my throat.  Heat rushed through me
at the feeling of his weight atop me.  It burned alongside my anger.

“Damn it, James!  That wasn’t fair!”

Smith’s expression wasn’t the least bit contrite as he stared down at me.  “Do you
think the Kings are going to fight fair?  If you don’t trust Miller – if you work
alone – you’ll be vulnerable.  Not to mention Carter.  He definitely won’t fight fair. 
As a Dominant, he’s a master manipulator.  He won’t have to knock you down to get
you flat on your back.”

“You bastard!”  I jerked under Clayton, but he held me down firmly.  “I am
not
going to sleep with Carter!  I don’t have to whore myself out to get information from
a mark.”

“Good.”  Smith nodded, satisfied at my defeat and completely unconcerned with the
fact that he had just insulted me.  “Now, you’re going to talk to Miller about BDSM. 
You need to understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

I growled up at him, furious.

“Sharon.”  Clayton used a tone I didn’t recognize.  His voice was calm and deep. 
It seemed to sink into my bones.  “You’re going to talk to Miller.  We had an agreement.”

I stilled beneath him, giving in.  They had backed me into a corner, and I had no
choice but to agree.  I nodded my assent, and then turned my glare on Clayton.  He
wasn’t a knight in shining armor, after all.

Arrogant Dom.

Chapter 3

Squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin, I stepped into Decadence in my best imitation
of a haughty strut.  Miller gently grasped my elbow, anticipating my wobble on my
high-heeled boots.  I had remained steady until then, but I stumbled when I jerked
out of his hold.

Damn it!
  Barely two minutes in, and Miller had already caused me to fumble.  Was he doing
it on purpose?  If he thought he could play games to get ahead of me in the unit,
he had another thing coming.

I had promised Clayton and Smith that I would talk to Miller about BDSM, but I hadn’t
promised
when
I would do it.  I fully intended to complete the op first.  Then I could “talk to
him” about how I had managed to do my job.  Telling him that I could successfully
pretend to be kinky technically fulfilled my friends’ requirements of talking to him.

Unease stirred in my gut.  As much as I hated to admit it, the men were pretty intimidating,
and I didn’t like to think what they might do if they found out my plan to circumvent
our deal.  It would probably be best to avoid them for the next few weeks.  I was
banking on Miller having the good sense not to tattle on a fellow agent.  Even a rookie
should know that there was no quicker way to get burned with his co-workers than to
be a snitch.

“Let’s split up.”  The cool decisiveness in my tone let Miller know it wasn’t just
a suggestion.  “I need to patch things up with Carter.  I didn’t leave him on such
great terms last night.  Having you around isn’t going to help me flirt with him.”

Miller nodded easily.  “Good thinking.  I’ll scope out the regulars and see what I
can find out from them.”

Well, he seemed amenable enough.  That didn’t mean I was going to let my guard down
for one second when it came to him, though.

I watched him walk towards the dungeon, and I couldn’t help but notice the hungry
glances that the female – and some male – subs cast his way.  The man was attractive,
I would give him that.  He exuded a sense of confidence similar to that possessed
by Smith and Clayton, but somehow Miller’s powerful aura held a mischievous edge that
was undeniably appealing.  His muscles rippled beneath his tanned skin when he moved,
and the open leather vest he wore did little to conceal those muscles.  And the way
those leathers hugged his ass…

I jerked my eyes away.  It didn’t matter how attractive he was.  Reed Miller was a
cocky Dom.

Turning my attention away from my partner, I scanned the club for Carter.  He wasn’t
in the dungeon or at the bar, and I wasn’t about to go check the private rooms.  The
idea of walking in on him beating some strung-out woman made my stomach turn.  In
my short encounter with him, he had come across as arrogant in a playful, teasing
way, but he turned deadly serious when it came to discussing the safety of BDSM practitioners. 
That man didn’t seem the type to allow irresponsible play between intoxicated kinksters
to take place at his club.

I shook my head.  All the more reason to get closer to the man.  Either he truly was
oblivious to what was going on right under his nose, or he was a very good actor.

Most men can be good actors when their main objective is to get into your pants.
  I had met my fair share of horny liars in the past.  I had always thought my jaw
was a bit too defined and my nose a bit too wide to be truly pretty, but men seemed
to think telling me I was beautiful would get me to sleep with them.

Steven wasn’t a liar.  He meant it when he said he wanted to marry me.

The pang in my heart and the guilt that gripped my chest were all too familiar.

No.  Don’t go there. 
I didn’t have time to think about Steven now.

Shrugging off the painful memories, I forced myself to focus on sifting through Derek
Carter’s lies.  Although I hadn’t spotted him yet, I did note that Reyes was working
as dungeon monitor again, and there was another, equally brawny, Latino guy working
the bar.  He was short and so broadly muscled that he appeared almost squat.  He had
just as many tattoos as Reyes, but where the dungeon monitor was gaunt-faced and mean,
the bartender’s face was wide, with a perpetual sneer.

Juan Ortiz.
  Another member of the Latin Kings.  Ortiz had never been arrested for his association
with the gang, but Santiago had IDed him during his undercover investigation.  Ortiz
was in the same tribe as Santiago and Reyes:
Los Muertos
.

One member of the Kings working at a kink club might not mean anything; gangsters
could be kinky.  But two of them from the same tribe, working in a venue with rampant
drug use…  That was significant.  It had to be.

Miller had the dungeon covered.  He would be keeping an eye on Reyes.  That left Ortiz
to me.  I focused on carefully putting one high-heeled foot in front of the other
as I strode towards the bar.

It took me two attempts to pull myself up onto the high barstool.  I had long ago
learned how to move my small frame gracefully, but with the added height of the heels
my efforts were an awkward clamor.

I can’t win a fight in these ridiculous shoes.  Maybe I should take Carter’s suggestion
to go barefoot.

Like a sub?  No way.

I vehemently shoved the thought away, angry with myself for considering it for even
the briefest moment.  I resolved to walk in the boots all day, every day until I got
the hang of them.  My pride was worth more than a few blisters and aching arches. 
I could deal with pain; I had taken enough bruises while training at Quantico, and
I had learned how to ignore it.

“You’re new here, right?”  The woman’s innocent question got my hackles up.  Was I
really so transparent?  “I come here pretty regularly, and I’ve never seen you here
before.  Are you new to the City?”

The aggressive tension left me.  I had been so edgy in the last few months.  Ever
since Clayton had been shot on my watch, everything seemed to grate on my pride.

“We Dommes should stick together,” the stranger continued warmly.  She was striking
in a harsh way, her beauty almost cruel.  The lines of her face and slim body were
sharp.  Her raven’s wing hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and the blunt cut
of her bangs accentuated her intimidating severity.  Even seated on the barstool,
I still had to look up into her dove grey eyes.  The woman was taller than me by at
least half a foot.

The grin she turned on me softened her features into something more accessible.  “I’m
Clara.”  She extended a pale hand tipped with blood red nail polish.  I shook it firmly,
an answering smile spreading across my face.

“Sharon,” I supplied.  “It’s nice to meet you, Clara.  So, you said you come here
often?  This is only my second time.”

My casual tone belied the incisiveness of my question.  Clara seemed nice enough,
but if she frequented Decadence, she might be one of the less reputable patrons.

“I used to come to Decadence every week, but I haven’t been here in a while, actually,”
Clara admitted.  “A new club opened up, and I’ve been going there mostly.”  She gave
a noncommittal shrug.  “I figured it was time to come back.  Derek’s a friend of mine.” 
Her eyes cut to the side for half a second.  I recognized it as a sign of unease,
possibly even a lie.

Interesting.

“So you think Decadence is a good place?  Or should I try out the other club?”

“The setup here is better, and Derek’s a good guy.”  She shifted on her stool.

“Are you sure about that?”  I couldn’t hold back my small frown as I questioned her. 
“I met him last night, and he didn’t seem very nice.  I almost didn’t come back tonight.”

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t scare you off completely.”

I jolted at the sound of his low, deep voice just over my shoulder, and I nearly tumbled
off my stool.  His large hands gripped my corseted waist, and he had the nerve to
chuckle as he steadied me.

Knowing better than to struggle uselessly against his hold, I shot him a pointed glare. 
“Do you always sneak up on your customers?  Because it’s really creepy.”

His fingers closed, giving me a light squeeze before he released me.  I refused to
contemplate the answering squeeze between my thighs.  His grin stayed firmly in place,
despite my acidic words.

“My ears were burning, and I had to track down the person who was talking shit about
me in my own club.  I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that my search led to you.” 
He cocked a mock-censorious brow at Clara.  “Are you encouraging this?  I know we
have our differences, but I had always suspected that you secretly liked me.”

Clara returned his cool expression, but a smile played around the corners of her lips. 
“I like to be enigmatic.  It keeps you guessing.”

Carter laughed.  “Save your tricks for throwing your subs off balance, Clara.  I’ve
got you figured out.”

“Think what you want.” She shrugged noncommittally, but her lips quirked up further. 
“And Sharon’s right, you know.  You’re being really creepy.”

He gave her a sardonic grin and spread his arms wide as though to encompass the entirety
of the club.  “This is what I love about this place.  The clientele is so kind.”

I took a moment to appraise Clara’s body language.  She had claimed that Derek was
her friend, but she was eyeing him with the same inquisitiveness that I afforded her. 
And the genuine warmth she had shown toward me – a perfect stranger – was muted in
Derek’s presence.  I couldn’t tell if that was a result of a playful Dominant rivalry
or true iciness on her part.

“The clientele have probably adopted the
kind
attitude of the owner,” I remarked with what was rapidly becoming my signature snark.

Carter’s easy grin slipped ever so slightly, but it was fixed back in place a moment
later.  Despite his smile, a troubled light remained in his caramel eyes.

“If the owner is such an ass, why did you come back?”  He had the audacity to appear
amused rather than offended.  God, the man was cocky.

“Because I wasn’t going to let one arrogant Dom keep me away from exploring the lifestyle.”

Derek appeared a touch abashed at my gumption.

Clara gave me a light slap on my bare shoulder in a show of camaraderie.  “Good for
you!  Derek’s not used to women who are immune to his smolder.  You’ll make a great
Domme.”  She eyed him appraisingly.  “Or maybe he’s just losing his touch.”

Derek scowled at her, his cheerily confident demeanor evaporating.  The Domme had
obviously hit a nerve, and his sudden ferocity was intense enough to make me shrink
back half an inch before I could stop myself.  Clara remained implacably cool.

“I’d like to speak to Sharon alone, please.”  The gruffness of his declaration made
it clear that it wasn’t a request, despite the veneer of politeness.  “She seems to
have the wrong impression of me, and you’re not helping my cause.”

Clara sighed, her aloofness turning to something almost empathetic.  “Sorry, Derek. 
I didn’t mean anything by it.”  She gave me her warm smile again and slid down off
her barstool.  “Don’t worry.  He won’t bite unless you want him to.”

My scowl was a bit forced.  Involuntary warmth stirred between my legs at the mention
of Derek’s
bite
, making it more difficult to convey my distaste than I would have liked.

One corner of Derek’s mouth ticked up as he turned his full attention back to me. 
With the bar at my back and his large body in front of me, I was struck by the sudden
sensation of being trapped.  He was so close that the heat of him teased across my
skin.  I shifted my weight on my stool, angling my body away from his in a futile
attempt to escape that intoxicating warmth.  His twisted smile became more pronounced.

“I don’t appreciate being labelled as creepy, but I’ll easily admit that I’ve acted
like a total ass.  Can I buy you a drink to begin to make it up to you?  I really
can play nice.  If that’s what you want.”

The playful spark in his eyes held a darker edge.  That lustful light let me know
that he would rather not play
nice
when it came to me.  And damn it if that knowledge didn’t make an answering darkness
coil deep within me.

“As a Dominant, he’s a master manipulator.  He won’t need to knock you down to get
you flat on your back.” 
Smith’s warning skimmed across my mind, but it didn’t fully douse the unhealthy heat
inside me.

Careful, Silverman.

“You’re being creepy again,” I pointed out lightly.  “But I do appreciate a man who
can admit when he’s wrong.”

He laughed, a rich, breathtaking sound.  It illuminated his features, wiping away
any traces of cocky amusement or frustrated ire.  He looked… free.  His melted caramel
eyes were golden and almost boyish in their genuine humor.

“You’re a bit of an ass yourself, you know,” he informed me when his laughter died
down to a chuckle.  “Most people aren’t so brazenly impolite, even if the person they’re
talking to hasn’t been so nice.”

I shrugged, but I couldn’t hold back my smile; his pleasure was infectious.  I might
have been offended if it weren’t for the fact that he was right: I had been acting
like an ass.  If the accusation had come from Smith, he would have earned himself
a slap.  But from Derek, it wasn’t an accusation so much as playful banter.  He made
the insult sound like an admiring compliment.