Free Scorching Desire by Mari Carr Page B

What’s really going on?”
    She shook her head. “It’s not my place to tell you. But I do need something from you.” She looked at Damon.
    “What?”
    “Do you have any friends in the police force here?”
    “Not really. A few in the DA’s office. Why?”
    “Jennie should be on her way to the hospital right now. I reported her for trying to sell drugs. We need to make sure she stays alive.”
    Damon processed that and then nodded. “You think that someone put her and Sandra up to this. That it’s not just about money.”
    Tasha didn’t respond.
    Marco was leaning forward, his dark hair falling over his head. “And if that’s true, and they realize we know who Sandra and Jennie are, they may want to get rid of them.”
    Tasha shrugged. “I think we were intended to find them—this was too easy. The best we can do is to do the unexpected. That means involving the police, which we have been avoiding.”
    “I’ll call the DA’s office,” Damon said. “Tell them she’s a friend’s sister. They’ll pass that on to the cops. And I’ll push my flight back another few days. I need to be back in L.A. by next Sunday. I have court on Tuesday.”
    Tasha nodded as the limo glided to a stop outside the condo.
    “Are you coming up with us?” Marco asked her.
    “Yes. It’s safer.”
    Damon wondered who she thought it was safer for—them or herself.
    Together they made their way across the elegant lobby. The security agent looked alarmed until Marco waved and said, “Costume party.”
    “Of course, Mr. Corzo. There was a food delivery while you were out. Per your standing instructions, we used a master key and placed it in your refrigerator.”
    “Good man. Food is exactly what we need.”
    Once in the suite, Damon went to the spare bedroom to gather his things. He’d keep them in Marco’s room and sleep on the couch, giving Tasha the bed.
    He heard Marco unpacking their forgotten Persian food delivery.
    Sitting on the edge of the bed, Damon took a minute to think, looking down at his right hand. He was a big guy, always had been. As a teenager, he’d been so awkward his mother had put away the breakables since he was prone to falling over for no apparent reason. As an adult, he’d learned to control his body, learned to be still and to move slowly—and, when the situation called for it, to use his size to his advantage.
    He’d never hit a woman before—outside of sparring in the gym he’d only a hit few people, and only when he was drunk while in college. For the most part, he and his adversaries ended up taking shots together later.
    The back of his hand tingled, and he could still feel the blow—the hard bone of her cheek and jaw as he made contact. Part of him was angry at her for asking him to do it, and at himself because he hadn’t come up with a better solution.
    He stripped off the vest and threw it aside. His self-loathing was made worse by the fact he’d been aroused most of the night. Having Tasha kneeling before him mostly naked, combined with her devotion and obedience, fake though they were, had played on some very base sexual desires. It had been too easy to play her Master, too easy to enjoy spanking her with his belt.
    *****
    Tasha stood in the doorway, looking at the blond man’s bowed shoulders. “Damon.”
    “Tasha.” He stood. Seemingly unsure what to do with his hands, he crossed his arms. “How is your face and your back and your…” He gestured vaguely.
    She’d taken off the coat and her shoes, leaving her once more in nothing but the leather bra and tiny shorts. It covered as much as bathing suits, but standing in this bedroom, so close to him, she felt naked—hyperaware of her bare skin. She’d taken off the cuffs but still wore the collar, the leash dangling over her shoulder.
    “My ass? All are fine. You were perfect.” She came into the room, and without her heels she was almost a head shorter than him. He had a look she’d seen before—guilt over what