Grace Page 9

  She was shocked at the displays of aggression as well as the number of exhibitionists. This was crazy, ludicrous and made absolutely no sense to Grace. How could places like this exist, go undetected and keep doing business?

  Grace suddenly thought about the chance she took tonight along with the what ifs. What if the Master chose to take her to the back room? What if she was taken prisoner and the whole club was some kind of front for the illegal sex slave business? No one would have been there to help her or save her. The fear of being forced into such a serious and uncontrollable situation made her body shake.

  She thought about the past, her childhood, and the time she spent as a prisoner.

  God that was insane! What the hell have I gotten myself into?

  Grace pulled down the road then into the large gravel parking lot near her studio apartment building. At first, she was startled to see the black blazer parked in front.

  Immediately, she placed her revolver on her lap.

  Then Max emerged with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He was at the driver's side door before she could put the car in park.

  She hated to admit it but considering the events of the evening, she was grateful Max was there since she wouldn't have to enter her home alone. Then she pushed the thoughts aside. What is wrong with me? She was independent, a loner, and she definitely didn't need a man, especially one like Max Mathews, a street cop. Specially trained, she could handle this.

  Grace didn't have time to prepare for Max's verbal assault. He pulled the door open, and she placed her revolver back into her purse before she stepped out of the car.

  "What the hell is going on?” Max yelled.

  "Hello to you, too.” Grace didn't hide her annoyance, but her voice faltered slightly at the end due to the migraine.

  "Mary was upset and she needs some space."

  "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Max raised his voice again as Grace closed and locked the car door.

  Max looked her over. He obviously was worried about her and damned if she wasn't acting like she didn't give a shit. Grace knew he had seen her revolver sitting on her lap when he opened the driver's side door. All the while in her mind, she tried to minimize the repercussions of the evening's events. The possibility of having to convince Max as well brought on the pounding sensation in both her temples. If she could just get him to leave so she could gather her thoughts then maybe by morning she could explain. Max followed Grace as she walked toward her front door.

  "There's nothing to talk about. I'm going inside now. It's pretty damn cold out here.” She held the coat tightly against her body.

  Max grabbed her arm as she headed closer to the front door. “You're going to tell me what went down tonight."

  Grace froze a moment. Those damn blue eyes of his pierced through to her soul. She promised Mary she wouldn't tell Max anything, but that wasn't her style. This was a police investigation, and she may have just had a conversation with their only suspect.

  Turning her face away from Max, Grace tried to hide the sensations of fear that engulfed her body at the touch of the so-called Master.

  "What is it, Grace?” he asked softly, holding the collar of her winter coat.

  Grace turned away.

  "I'm freezing.” Her voice shook.

  Max followed her inside, through the metal entrance, then up the enclosed staircase to her front door.

  "Wow! This is one hell of an apartment."

  "Thanks. Do you want a drink?” She walked past the refrigerator, not waiting for his response and continued to the dining room to the small liquor cabinet.

  Her hands shook, her body was cold and she was scared. She still felt the control the Master had restrained her with.

  Anger built up inside her. She had vowed a long time ago to not allow her past to resurface and become a barrier in her life or her work. Now in one brief encounter with a possible killer, she was losing her fight against past demons.

  Grace kept her coat on and poured herself a snifter of brandy.

  After she took a deep long drink, she added some more. She held the table a moment, knowing damn well Max Mathews watched her every move. She glanced toward him just as he removed his coat and draped it over the back of the stool nearest to the counter.

  "So when are you going to tell me what happened?” he asked.

  Grace wasn't stupid and she suspected Max read her body language and her lack of enthusiasm at his presence. She purposely avoided making eye contact with him as she started to head in his direction. Grace immediately brushed past him and further across the kitchen. The dim light above the cabinets shone in her eyes.

  "I'm fine.” She leaned against the island and held the snifter with two hands.

  "I have to wind down and get out of my undercover mode ... you know what I mean?” She took another sip of brandy and avoided eye contact.

  Why am I suddenly so scared? What is it about the man in the mask?

  Max stood in front of her, silent. She feared she would give in to his demands, any of them. He had a way with those deep blue eyes of his, as well as those long, carved legs, trim waist, and muscular chest she could make out through his white dress shirt. She tried avoiding his eyes, but as she scanned his body, their gazes locked.

  He was handsome, yet rugged with strong features and white teeth. But for some reason when he got angry, she felt like running and hiding, or just taking cover as fast as possible.

  Max stood only a few feet across from her, leaning against the counter eyeing her as a suspicious detective would eye a guilty person. She looked away.

  She tried to ignore her body's response to the closeness of his as she attempted an escape.

  "Tell me what happened."

  It was too late. Now Max was right in front of her with one hand against the counter, the other lightly on her hipbone. The burning desire traveled down to her thighs as she fantasized about the detective.

  Grace gave into the fear and intimidation, telling herself it was only to avoid her sexual attraction to Max. At first, she stuttered, then regained some composure. She began to describe the club, the patrons who frequented it, the things she observed and finally, the Master.

  "Did he hurt you?” Max asked, full of concern. He pushed the sleeves of her coat up to see her wrists.

  They were red but no bruising.

  "I didn't want you going there. I told you this was dangerous.” He raised his voice but still held her hand.

  Grace turned her head to the side. “I'm fine."

  Max moved closer.

  Although their legs weren't touching, Grace felt his body heat against the nylon stockings covering her legs ... that began to shake.

  Max cupped Grace's chin in his hand and turned her head so she would have to look into his eyes. “You're not fine. He scared you."

  She tried to pull away, but Max held his position close to her, with his hand still holding her face. He stared at her as if reading the fear in her eyes. Her hands were shaking, too.

  "Don't pull away. It's all right. Tell me what went down,” he whispered.

  Grace didn't want to give in to his seductive methods of getting her to talk since he made it clear at the office the other day that this was his case.

  Her body couldn't help but want him closer. What sane woman in her right mind wouldn't be attracted to such a charismatic man?

  She would fight his low-down tactics.

  Grace tried to push him away.

  "Nice try, Lieutenant, but your tactics won't work with this woman. Let go of me."

  Max pulled her against him. Did I misinterpret his intentions? Did he really care or did he just want information for ‘his’ case?

  It felt good to be in his arms.

  "You're wrong, Grace, and I'm interested to know what guy caused you to have enough distrust to fog your ability to see when a real man is honestly showing concern?” he challenged her, prepared to engage in the fight she started.

  Once again, she
tried to wiggle her way free, but it was no use as Max pinned his body against hers and the counter.

  "I don't know what you're implying."

  "This isn't some tactic to get you to talk. However, if you withhold information from me, that's detrimental to this case. There are other means I can use to get you to talk."

  Max slowly slid his leg between Grace's. His arm pushed her coat open and his hand made its way over the leather and around her waist.

  Grace tried to put some space between them by placing her hands against his chest, but even that move backfired on her as her palms began to sweat and the rhythm of her breathing increased.

  Max gazed deeply into her eyes, with his face inches from hers.

  "Does bullying always get you the girl?” she snapped at him with his body wedged against hers.

  He seemed amused by her defensive response. “Am I bullying you, sweetheart? Is that why you're shaking?” he whispered with his lips inches from her own.

  "I'm a big girl, Lieutenant. I'm fine, really."

  She tried to convince Max as well as herself. She didn't need any protection. Despite the seriousness of the case, she was strong enough to handle this. It was her attraction to this overbearing, sexy cop that made her wonder and her body crave for his attention.

  Max deeply inhaled the scent of her perfume. Her heart raced and so did Max's. She felt it against the palms of her hands resting against his chest.

  He leaned his face down, kissing the bridge of Grace's nose as his hand held her neck and his thumb caressed her chin. Their gazes met and there was no doubt they wanted one another.

  "Don't...” Grace barely got out, but Max didn't hesitate.

  His lips covered hers, the hunger great and equal. Their hips pressed together, and he maneuvered his leg between her thighs, again allowing his pants to caress against her stockings and her skin.

  His mouth was on a mission to devour hers and he hardened against her.

  Max was skilled in the kissing department and as if that weren't enough to set her thighs on fire, one of his hands embraced the back of her head while the other caressed her neck.

  The kiss was long and hot, and Max took it to another level by moving his lips across her cheek, then chin and finally against her neck.

  Grace was on fire, her breathing rapid and short. She let out a moan of pleasure and was embarrassed he could do this to her. As if sensing it, he did the same, moaning against her neck, tickling her skin.

  "Damn, woman, you get under my skin.” His hot breath caressed her neck with each word he whispered.

  Grace held Max's neck, letting her hands caress his head, his scalp, then across his shoulders to his arms and down to his waist. She wanted to touch every part of him, to feel his hands all over her body

  Then the fear set in when she felt the lines of his cut stomach, and her imagination traveled further down.

  Max was aroused and ready, a realization to Grace that things had gone way too far.

  She sensed the strength, the power in his hands as they explored her curves from her hips to her breasts. She had to stop this, put an end to it now. What the hell am I thinking?

  His mouth covered her neck again and her head rolled back in defeat as she gripped the island counter. She was losing the fight against herself, allowed Max to pull her coat the rest of the way off.

  He stopped a moment, letting a small amount of red hair slip through his fingers. She was afraid he would stop, that he didn't want her as much as she wanted him, needed him.

  This was crazy. It was another outrageous reaction to a complete stranger. This night would surely cause nothing but problems for her.

  "Take this off.” He didn't give her the chance to remove the wig herself. Grace shook her head as the brown thick locks covered her shoulders.

  Max ran his hands through the curls, pulled them to his lips, then continued to stare into her green eyes.

  "You're too classy for this, way better than this.” He ran his hands against the black leather.

  "I...” She didn't know what to say and she thought it was his way of stopping things from continuing. She attempted to move away but Max abruptly pulled her back by her hips.

  He was about to kiss her again when she turned her head, once again attempting to stop him.

  "This is a bad idea. We shouldn't..."

  "You're shaking, Grace. Let's sit down."

  Max took Grace's hand, and they made their way to the sofa in the living room. He sat beside Grace, laying his hand on her leg as he stared into her eyes. They were full of concern.

  "Tell me what he said to you, Grace."

  After a moment, she began to tell him the story. She would have left out the part about the Master knowing her name, but her professionalism and her instincts told her not to.

  Max immediately stood up from the couch. “Damn it, Grace, this is exactly what I was worried about. Why didn't you tell me this right away? We don't know who this guy is or what he's involved in, and somehow he knows your name? I shouldn't have let you go there!” he yelled as he ran his hand through his hair and paced in front of her.

  "No, Max, this isn't your fault. I had an obligation to go. Besides, as scary as he was, he was also strangely familiar."

  Max stopped in front of her with his hands on his hips, his gun, holster, and badge in plain view.

  Grace took in the masculine vision in front of her. She wanted him to hold her again, and that realization made her angry with herself. She didn't need the comfort of another human being's arms. Another person to tell her it was going to be all right, that time healed and things would get better.

  Grace closed her eyes. She was obviously exhausted. Why else would she remember statements from the past and from a time she'd rather erase from her mind? Tears filled her eyes but none fell. She was thankful for that.

  "You think you know who this guy is?"

  "I'm not sure really. There was something familiar about his eyes, and then his cologne ... I don't know."

  She put her head down, and Max knelt down on one knee on the carpeting in front of her. Max cupped her chin and tilted her head toward him.

  "You're not telling me everything, Grace."

  She waited, knowing as soon as the words left her lips, he would flip out.

  "Celina was seen there the night she went missing."

  "What? With whom?"

  Grace stayed silent a moment. Max was staring at her intently, forcing her to give a reply to his question.

  She whispered, “The Master."

  He immediately let go of her and rose from the floor. “Damn it, Grace, this just keeps getting worse. Now you've put yourself in danger, and we still don't know who this guy is."

  "Mary was scared, Max, but she knows more. She needed to think things through. She did tell me that there are people willing to pay big money for their own personal sex slave."

  "What? You mean against their will? Kidnapping, forced prostitution?"

  "A sex slave. Their own personal fantasy fulfiller."

  Max remained silent as if letting her words sink in. Grace had a feeling he was thinking the same things she was. That this was way more than any of them expected.

  "This is why we're connecting missing women with the murder cases. They're still alive."

  "How many are you certain of, Max? I mean we could give the names and show pictures to Mary. She can find out if these women were seen at the clubs and with this Master guy. I could—"

  "No way are you going to any of those clubs again. If what Mary told you is true, then he already knows your name and who you are. He could have someone who's in the market for a gorgeous brunette. Wait a minute...

  "The similarities in the other cases we thought could be connected were the women's hair color, height, build, and the locations they disappeared from. Their apartments were ransacked the same way. There was blood in only one woman's apartment, but all of the cases appeared as if the women were leaving in a hurry.

  "S
omeone forced them to pack their bags and leave somewhat willingly."

  "They must have recognized the person. It has to be the Master. They would know him from the club and what his high position is,” Grace offered.

  "What do you mean?” Max wasn't understanding Grace's meaning.

  "Max, there's a whole different way of thinking there. They have the Master, who's the owner and the person in ultimate control. Then there are different positions people hold. I tried to get away with playing a part that was obviously seen through. This short guy attempted to control me until the Master intervened. There's so much we don't understand about this lifestyle. I'm sure there's even worse things going on.” Grace explained about the hallway and the peep show.

  "Clubs like this, Grace, usually stick to illegal drugs, organized prostitution with willing participants. A sex slave business? I don't know."

  "What's there to question, Max? This Master guy is intense, forceful, and completely in control. You weren't there, Max! This is not just some hidden club where your typical illegal drugs, prostitution and pornography take place. As bad as all that is, it's nothing compared to the possibility that the Master is using the club as a front for an illegal sex slave business."

  "Vice would be on top of that."

  "You don't know that for sure. Check with them and see what you come up with. I'll check on my end."

  Max looked intrigued by the fact Grace knew someone in vice, an informant of some kind. She was resourceful as any good detective was.

  Grace's head pounded now as she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. After kicking off her high heels, she rose from the couch and sighed out of exhaustion.

  "We'll call Mary tomorrow and schedule a time to meet her. She knows more. She can explain everything better."

  "It is tomorrow, Grace."

  She looked toward the clock that hung on the wall. It read 4:20 a.m.

  Max moved closer, placing his warm hand against her cheek. Without her heels, Max was much taller than she.

  The look on his face revealed his worry and concern. This was complicated. She knew it and needed to get Max out of her home. Then they needed to question the Master.