Sweet Surrender - Page 20/38

She let out a frustrated sigh. “But that’s just it, Gray. That’s not what I want. I know I’m all mixed up, but what I want is a strong man. Someone who isn’t afraid to step up and call the shots, as you put it. I want, no I need that from the man I’m going to be involved with. I want…I want someone who will take care of me, who will cherish my gift of submission. Maybe that sounds horribly old-fashioned, but I’m tired of searching for something that obviously doesn’t exist.

“Maybe I went about it all wrong, but it doesn’t change what I want. I know what I want. I just haven’t figured out how to go about getting it yet.”

She stood, suddenly possessed with the need to get the hell out of there. After all, she’d made a big enough ass of herself for one day. Maybe she’d go cry on Micah’s shoulder. Or maybe she’d just go home and try to forget this day ever happened.

She chanced one more look at him and found him staring at her in faint shock. There was an odd expression in his eyes like he was puzzling over her words. Which wouldn’t surprise her, since she’d made a muck of everything else.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Truly, I am.”

She headed for the door, only anxious to be as far away from any more self-discovery as possible.

“Faith, wait,” he called, but she didn’t stop.

She picked up her pace and hurried out the door.

CHAPTER 24

Gray watched her go, helpless frustration seizing his throat. Had he gotten her completely wrong? She’d looked so lost and confused, and then she’d spoken with such conviction about what she wanted.

He’d assumed she was playing sex games. Wanting her little kinky thrills without the veil of realism. But as he’d listened to her pour her heart out, he’d become more convinced that he’d misjudged her. Could it be possible that he’d found a woman who wanted the same things he did from a relationship?

She seemed unsteady, a little unsure, as if she was just spreading her wings and preparing to fly in uncharted airspace. And he’d shot her down.

What a mess. He couldn’t afford to get involved with her, not at least until the whole situation with Samuels and her mother could be resolved. He was using her, which in essence was what he’d accused her of doing to him. He winced at the hypocrisy.

For the first time in his life, he felt real doubt over a woman. He needed to get back perspective. Remember why he was here in the first place. A call to Mick should do just that. He needed an update on the case anyway, because it sure as hell hadn’t been uppermost on his mind for the last several days.

He rose from the bed and dropped the towel on the floor. He walked to his chest of drawers nude and rummaged for underwear, jeans and a shirt.

A few seconds later, he dialed Mick’s number and waited for his answer.

“Got any news for me?” Mick asked with no preamble.

“I was hoping you had some for me,” Gray said. “Other than the one phone conversation, I’ve come up with nothing. Her mother hasn’t called back since.”

Mick grunted. “Last report I got was the one where they were spotted in Huntsville. That was several days ago, so I’m sure they’ve moved on by now.”

“How are you getting those reports, Mick? Is the department investigating Samuels now?”

Silence registered on Mick’s end. “What are you insinuating, son?”

Gray blinked in surprise. “I didn’t realize I was insinuating anything. I wanted to know if the department had come around and focused on Samuels or not. What’s the latest on their investigation?”

Mick made a sound of disgust. “Rat bastards, the lot of them.”

“Maybe I should call and see what progress has been made,” Gray said.

“Nah,” Mick said quickly. “You’re supposed to be on leave. If they get wind of what you’re doing, your ass will be in a sling. I’ve got a contact there, an old buddy of mine who is keeping me informed of what’s going on. Or not going on as is the case.”

Gray shrugged. “Well, I’m not coming up with much on my end either. While I’m convinced that Faith’s mother is mixed up with some worthless piece of shit guy, I’m not sure it’s the same piece of shit who shot Alex. I’m operating on little to no knowledge over here.”

“You’re doing me a favor,” Mick said shortly. “That’s all you need to know. I know the bastard shot my son. If I had left the investigation to Billings, we’d still be pissing in the wind trying to come up with a suspect.”

Gray bit the inside of his cheek. He knew Mick’s emotions were raw, but his grating attitude was not something Gray was in the mood for right now. Especially since he was the one down here chasing his tail around his ass.

Which begged the question; why was he down here chasing a hunch? Mick hadn’t given him anything too substantive, but Gray owed him, and Alex was his partner. If Mick was right about who killed Alex, and the department wasn’t doing shit about it, then Gray damn well wasn’t going to back off.

“Look, son.” Mick’s voice became more cajoling. “I know this isn’t easy for you, down there cozying up to a skirt who’s probably as worthless as her mother. I know you’re anxious to be back on the job. Just give it a little longer. My gut tells me Samuels is heading down there. Shadow the daughter for a few more days. If nothing turns up, then you can come on home and forget all about it.”

Gray clenched his teeth together. He wasn’t going to defend Faith to Mick, because it would only send the older man into a tizzy.

“I’ll keep you posted,” he said shortly.

“Thanks, son,” Mick said, but Gray wasn’t feeling all that charitable toward the guy. Not when he knew the use of the endearment was his subtle way of manipulating Gray.

He hung up, more irritated than ever. He clasped the back of his neck and rubbed at the tense muscles. What the hell was he going to do? He no longer had a lot of faith in the reason he was here.

If nothing else, he could stick around and see this to the end, or at least see if Faith’s mother made an appearance with her deadbeat boyfriend.

Then he could return to his job, put Alex’s memory to rest and hopefully ease some of Mick’s grief. And maybe his own.

An odd tightening in his chest and a surge of sadness caught him by surprise. Nothing it seemed he did lately turned out any good. He hadn’t been able to save his partner, and he’d just shit on a beautiful woman.

Yeah, life was real good.

CHAPTER 25

In the last three days, Faith had been more sexually adventurous than she had in her entire life. She’d also made a complete ass of herself in front of more men than she’d slept with. Which was pretty dismal when she added that up in her head.

She sank lower in the tub and gazed down at her freshly painted toenails. But not even the bright, cheery pink managed to pick her spirits up.

Gray’s words churned over and over in her head, an unending litany of just how stupid she’d been. Now that he’d laid it out for her, it seemed so clear.

Her idea of a man taking control had been handing him a checklist of activities to perform. She’d have been better off to hire a male prostitute and give him a script. But amid her lament, one single thought formed and took hold.

With the right man, she wouldn’t have to give directions, and the simple fact was, she’d never been with the right man. That much was obvious. She’d responded out of frustration in the only way she saw how. But Gray had balked at her subtle control. He was a man used to doing things his own way. He would have been perfect for her if she hadn’t managed to convince him she was a flighty twit playing games.

She was more confused than ever. Her gaze slid to the cordless phone she’d carried into the bathroom with her. She had two options. She could call Micah, but she was sure he’d respond with an invitation, and she wasn’t prepared for that. Or she could call Damon and get his opinion. He seemed open enough, and she felt comfortable talking to him.

After a moment’s hesitation, she picked up the phone and called the private number Damon had given her. On the second ring, he picked up.

“Damon, it’s Faith. I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.”

“Of course not,” he said warmly. “What can I do for you?”

She hesitated for a long second. “I need to talk to you. Is there any way we could meet for a late drink? I mean if you’re not busy,” she rushed to say.

“I’ll send my driver for you,” he said.

“Driver? I can just meet you.”

“It’s not a problem. I’ll send the driver in say, an hour? Does that give you enough time? I know a great place across town where we can be assured of privacy.”

“Yes,” she said finally. “An hour is fine.”

“Great. I’ll see you then.”

She let the phone slide from her fingers. Then she hoisted herself out of the tub to dry off. A driver? Who the hell sent a driver? It sounded positively decadent. Did the position of club manager pay that well, or was having a driver merely a perk of the job?

He’d said private and across town. That, coupled with the bit about the driver, had her thinking something a little more elegant than jeans and tennis shoes was in order.

Exactly an hour later, she went to answer the door. She’d chosen a classy black sheath with spaghetti straps and had worn the sexy, ultrahigh heels Damon had returned to her just days before. She’d piled her hair artfully atop her head and chosen simple teardrop diamond earrings. She checked her lipstick in the hall mirror before opening the door.

She was greeted by a large man in a somber-looking suit. He wore dark shades, even though it was well past nine o’clock.

“Miss Malone?”

“Yes, that’s me,” she said with a tentative smile.

He returned her smile and offered his arm. “Mr. Roche would like you to join him. I’ll be driving you to your destination.”

Her eyes widened when she saw the car he’d arrived in. Maybe she’d been expecting a limo, but seeing a freaking Bentley knocked her for a loop. Who the hell had a Bentley at their disposal? Were sex clubs that lucrative?

The driver assisted her into the backseat, then closed the door behind her. She sank into the butter-soft leather and closed her eyes in appreciation. As they drove away, she gazed out the tinted windows at Gray’s truck. She emitted an unhappy sigh and turned her attention back to the interior of the car.

The soft strains of a classical melody filled the air. She turned her head to look out the window again, enjoying the lights of the city.

Thirty minutes later, the Bentley pulled up to an awning where a doorman opened the car door and extended a hand to help her out.

“Right this way, Miss Malone,” he said.

She arched her brow, surprised and impressed by all the pomp. She was more intrigued than ever about Damon’s status as the manager of a sex club.

She was escorted into a darkened, intimate restaurant, where she was promptly handed over to the maître d’, who bowed and kissed her hand. He held an arm out to her and escorted her farther inside.

The furnishings screamed exclusive, reservation only. She wished she’d paid more attention when they’d pulled up, though she doubted she’d recognize the name anyway. The only place she haunted on a regular basis was Cattleman’s, and exclusive it was not.

To her surprise, the maître d’ escorted her past the common dining area and into a smaller, private club room in the back of the restaurant.

When they entered, Damon rose from the small table across the room and smiled. He reached out for her hand then nodded at the maître d’. “That will be all, Phillip.”

Phillip smiled and backed from the room.

Damon pulled a chair from the table and gestured for her to sit. Then he circled around and eased into his own chair. He reached up and loosened his tie then proceeded to unbutton the cuffs on his long-sleeved dress shirt.

“I hope you don’t mind me making myself more comfortable,” he said.

“Not at all,” she mumbled.

He laid his arm back on the table and met her gaze. “You look beautiful.”

She shifted uncomfortably on the chair. For some reason, she felt that the Damon she’d talked with, had met at The House, was not this same man she now sat across from. And now she felt foolish for calling and asking him to talk to her.

“What would you like to drink?” he asked. “They have an excellent selection of wine, or if you prefer, something stronger.”

She sighed. “I don’t suppose you can get a root beer here.” The last thing she needed was alcohol. Her head was muggy enough without adding liquor to the mix.

He laughed, perfectly straight white teeth flashing. “Root beer it is. I live to serve.”

He gestured for a waiter Faith hadn’t seen standing in the corner. When the young man moved to Damon’s side, Damon requested wine Faith wasn’t familiar with and a bottle of their finest root beer.