Slave to Love (47 page)

Caro stared at him in astonishment, not sure what shocked her more, that anyone but she knew Julio was being abused, or the fact that Mick once again so offhandedly admitted he loved her.

Suddenly, the door flung open and Julio himself walked through it.

“
Querida
! I heard you were in the building. I was just—” He spotted Mick, who let her go and leaned negligently against a nearby desk. “Oh,” he said, his eyes shifting between them.

Ignoring Mick’s disapproval, she jumped into Julio’s arms and gave him a big hug. “How are you doing?”

Julio hugged her back, and she could feel the tension in him slip for a moment. “Better, now that I’ve left Barry.”

“Oh, Jul. I’m so sorry. I wish I’d known—”

He shook off her concern. “Not something I liked sharing with anyone.” His gaze slid to Mick for a second. “The strangest thing happened though. Barry got waylaid yesterday by some thugs. They told him if he ever touched me again, they’d come back and kill him.”

“Really? Who could have—” She caught the direction of his gaze and gasped softly. Mick had his arms banded across his chest, looking as belligerent as ever, but there was something in his expression that gave him away. “You! But how—”

He pushed off the desk, put a proprietary arm around her and pulled her away from Julio. “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I help the fucker who turned me in to the rat squad? Now, I hate to cut short your girl talk, Martinez, but Caro and I have things to do. She’ll call you sometime when I’m not forced to listen.”

With that, she was propelled away and out of the station, into the parking garage.

“I can’t believe you did that,” she said when they reached the Z and he opened the door for her. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

“You’re hallucinating,” he said, leaning down for a kiss. “I know better than to get involved in other people’s affairs.”

“Except when it involves violence,” she murmured, loving the taste of him, the feel of his strong arms around her. It seemed like it had been years since they’d been able to indulge in even a simple kiss without cameras flashing. She snuggled into his embrace, encouraging him to hold her tighter. “I know what you did for Lauren, when her husband was abusing her. That cost you years of your career.” She gazed up at him tenderly. “You may act tough, but at heart you’re just a softie.”

“You have no idea how wrong you are,” he said, his eyes hard as blue ice.

“Is it true?” she asked, inhaling the delicious scent of his skin, loving how the suppleness of her breasts pillowed against his rock-hard, muscled chest. “What you said?”

“There’s nothing soft about me, baby.”

“I meant what you said earlier, about loving me.”

He grasped her chin and lifted it, capturing her with the intensity of his look. “I don’t know anything about love, Caro. I don’t even know if I’m capable of love. But if it means waking up every morning wanting you, and falling asleep every night still wanting you, craving your kisses and your sexy body, needing your love and adoration, your devotion and your faithfulness, desperate to keep you close and safe from all the bad stuff out there, then yeah. I love you. I love you and want to be with you for as long as you can stand being with me.”

Her heart melted more and more as she listened to his words, until it was a small puddle at his feet. She never thought she’d ever hear those words from any man, let alone the one man on earth who attracted her in ways she’d never dreamed possible. The man who knew her better than she knew herself. The man who scared her and thrilled her, who made her feel more alive than she’d ever felt before.

“I love you, too, Mick. And I’ll always want to be with you. Always.”

“Then move in with me.”

Her eyes widened speechlessly.

“I’ll get a bigger place, a house, so all our things fit. Baby, I can’t promise you marriage, because frankly, the idea of that scares the shit out of me. But my collar around your neck means a hell of a lot more than any damn piece of paper, if you’re willing.”

Her breasts tingled and a sharp craving settled at the apex of her thighs. The thought of being Mick McGraw’s sexual slave indefinitely made her weak with desire. To be possessed by him, fully, knowing he’d come home to her every night and take command of her body, filled her with a carnal longing so strong she moaned softly.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “I’ll live with you.”

“You’ll do my bidding, and answer my body’s call, whenever I demand it?”

The utter raw sensuality of his mouth, the indolent droop of his eyelids as he murmured the words low and rough, sent a shiver through her flesh.

“Oh, yes,” she whispered. “I’ll do anything you want, to have you inside me.”

His answering growl reverberated through her whole body. He caught her up in his arms and kissed her.

“It’s settled then,” he said. “I’ll start looking tomorrow.”

***

“You sure you want to do this?” Mick asked one last time. He wanted Caro to be absolutely certain.

She looked around at her furniture and the boxes of her belongings piled on his new living room floor, and nodded. “Yes. I’m sure.”

She was naked, except for her slave collar. The movers had left five minutes ago and she’d just taken off her clothes—she liked being nude for him at home—and already he was hard like he hadn’t had sex in a year, instead of just a few hours.

He glanced around in satisfaction. Perfectly restored, the house he’d bought was a hundred years old and large, with plenty of room for both of them, and more. His thoughts went to the fourth bedroom, upstairs in back and still empty, and the plans he had for that space. His cock lurched in sinful anticipation.

Patience, McGraw.

“I’m going on my run,” he said.

He was several hours late, but it was Saturday, so it didn’t matter; he wasn’t scheduled to work this weekend. Since his father’s shooting had been cleared by IAB and he’d been reinstated to full duty, things had been a little crazy. The press still hounded him. Even if he and Caro hadn’t decided to move in together he’d have been forced to change addresses to escape the paparazzi weeks ago, but that was okay. His broker had been telling him for years he should invest part of his assets in real estate. His salary might not be the highest, but he’d lived cheaply and invested wisely. He’d paid cash for the house.

“How long will you be gone?” she asked.

“An hour or so.”

He walked over and ran his hands down her silken body, pausing at her perfect rosy nipples, then stroked over her smooth mound. She’d started waxing down there, and he loved how she felt. Bare and completely exposed to him. It never failed to turn him on, seeing her like that. He slid his finger through her folds, gratified to find her wet and slick.

“When I get back, be ready for me. I’ll want to fuck.”

She moved against his hand. “Why don’t we fuck now?”

He covered her mouth with his and kissed her hard, driving his finger deep into her. So he could carry the taste of her, the scent of her, with him as he ran. As incentive to get back quickly.

He swatted her on the ass and strode to the door. “Do whatever you want with the house. It’s all yours.” He went out, calling over his shoulder, “Just be ready.”

“Always,” she answered as he shut the door.

He smiled, taking off down the path at a slow run. It was true. She was. Whenever. Wherever. However.

And to think, three months ago he’d only hoped to survive his father’s vengeance—and his own—any way he could. Even if it meant giving up everything he’d worked for and dreamed of. And it had been a very close thing.

How had he managed to turn the tides of fate? How had he ended up the hero, his job intact, with a woman who loved him in spite of the darkness that lived inside him? A woman who let him rule her body completely, and gave him everything he asked for, and much, much more? One who trusted him so absolutely that she had single-handedly banished the rage and the violence from within him....

His heart dared to sing as his legs pumped along his new route toward bungalow-town. The case was closed, but Mick felt an inner compulsion, driving him to jog past the homes of the Teddie Killer’s victims, one last time. To recall their faces, to feel their suffering, so he’d never forget.

Past the Connors he ran, noting the child’s tricycle and plastic toys scattered around the front lawn. A new family must have moved in. They had to know about the murders. What must they think tucking their child into bed in a place where so much evil had taken place? It was always the children who suffered most from the ripples of malevolence. He hoped their child didn’t have nightmares.

At the Atkins’ place the grass and shrubs were long and scraggly, brown from lack of watering. A shutter had come loose and hung crooked over the window from one corner. The house looked deserted. As his own house had looked after his mother’s death. They’d taken Mick away, of course, and put him in foster care. But he’d already started running back then, and he’d jogged past that house, too, when he could. To keep the memory of her alive in his mind.

“I did it, Mom,” he whispered into the breeze, allowing himself a short burst of gratification. “For you, I killed him.”

He loped past Caro’s old duplex, waving to the Realtor who was planting a for rent sign in the front yard. Roger was peering out his window, the little weasel. Roger who’d nearly blown Mick’s plan sky high with his damn meddling. He wished he could catch him peeping where he didn’t belong, so he could throw his skinny little butt in jail.

Mick drew in several deep breaths and turned his sneaks toward the Taylor/Slocum bungalow. His legs were burning now, punishing him for his ruthless pace. He’d been lazy lately, staying in bed with Caro rather than facing the dawn on his own two feet, keeping in shape. He’d even begun to wonder what the point of all this discipline was, now that—

A car careened around the corner, nearly clipping him.

He jumped back, jogging in place to watch it speed through the stop sign at the next intersection. Jerk.

The adrenaline still pumping, he powered past the house of the last victims. This was where it had all started with Caro. Where he’d held her in that tiny powder room as she puked her guts out. And felt triumph that he’d chosen right.

Not that there’d ever been any doubt in his mind.

Not since the first time he’d seen her in the PPD lunchroom and she’d given him that shy smile. That shy, sly, dare-you smile. The woman had known exactly what she was doing. And he’d been hooked from that very second. It had only been a matter of time before he took what was his by right.

Now she belonged to him. His father was rotting in hell, and Caroline Palmer was his slave. His beautiful, sexy love slave.

Life was good.

Finally.

Suddenly, he realized he’d arrived at his old apartment building. He’d moved out last week, quietly shifting his things to the new house as soon as escrow had closed, and hadn’t been back since.

He slowed to a stop in his usual spot in front of the dumpster, bending and stretching to keep from cramping up. Then he reached into his shorts pocket and pulled out a tiny envelope.

This was the last thing he had to do. The very last. After that they’d never know. He’d wanted to get rid of the key ages ago, but between the investigation and the press following him, the time hadn’t been right until things died down completely.

It was probably not the smartest thing to dispose of it here. He of all people knew it was always the littlest things that took you down. But some inner compulsion called to him, to bring it all full circle. Probably the same one that made him jog past the victims’ homes.

“Hi there! Nice day for a run!”

He spun at the sound of the youthful, feminine voice, and clutched the envelope guiltily in his fist.

“Hi. Y-yeah,” he stammered, caught by surprise at her sudden appearance. He recognized the woman; she’d lived on one of the floors above him and they’d bumped into each other in the elevator occasionally. She was a runner, too. Pretty. Flirty. And she knew exactly who he was.

“Haven’t seen you around lately,” she said. “Not since—” She halted in consternation. “I mean—”

He gave her his best smile. Never mind. He could work this. “Yeah, I’ve been a little busy.”