Free Under Control by Em Petrova Page A

check?”
    “Direct deposited.”
    She stood too, feeling cowed by the difference in their heights. She needed to get back on top of her game to finish this role. “He hasn’t come to work and nobody’s seen him?”
    “No,” he barked. “You can tell your insurance people that we have no liability in this case. Our contract protects us.”
    “Do you have a copy of your contract I can take back to them?” She had no use for it, and would crumple the paper and toss it straight into the first garbage can she passed. “And maybe you can provide me with a schedule for that week?”
    “Yeah, whatever.” He started rummaging in his papers and came out with a few sheets. “I’ll just have Paula photocopy these and you can be on your way.”
    That wasn’t a hint.
    “Alan,” she said when he reached his office door. He spun back, agitation written all over the lines of his body. His shoulders hunched, and she almost felt bad for playing him this way. But it was life or death for some poor victim. “I lost touch with Blaine after we broke up. He moved, and I wondered if you might know his address now?”
    He eyed her, and she realized she’d pushed her the limit of believability. “You want to go visit the man who tried to blow you up?”
    “Well no.” She forced a laugh and then dropped her gaze to her fingers, which she twisted and untwisted as if stressed. Hell, she was stressed. “I thought maybe I could talk some sense to him, get him to give himself up before anything else leaks out. I’m only thinking of blow-back on you.”
    His eyes bulged. “On me? I didn’t hand him those chemicals and tell him to go make a bomb or burn down buildings. This isn’t my fault.” His voice pitched louder.
    “Oh I know. That’s why I need to speak with him.”
    “Fine. I’ll find his address after I get these copied.”
    Within minutes she walked out of Pacific Pools and Spas with the only information she’d walked in for. Blaine’s address.
    Because she was headed over there.
    Before Gabriel and Joey sent out a rescue team—or became a rescue team—she gave them a check-in text. They didn’t need to know she planned to visit Blaine in his own lair. They only needed to know that she was okay and on the move.
    She hailed a cab and gave Blaine’s address. Part of her feared walking into her own demise. He wanted her dead, and his failure to kill her meant that he’d been identified. If she’d died, everyone would have believed she was some crazy woman or even connected her with the arson. But she’d screwed up his plans, and that would make him angry.
    The cab crawled through the city, and her mind had precious time to wander. Of course, she wasn’t thinking of what to say or do if she found Blaine. Her brain was firmly back in Gabriel and Joey’s home.
    In their bed.
    She must have replayed the entire scene a dozen times already.
    Four rough hands on her body, two steely cocks to play with. God, it was the best experience of her life. Whether or not it was temporary insanity was another thing. Surely she was suffering from some type of post-traumatic disorder.
    But if she’d met Joey, say at the bar, and gone home with him? Would the outcome have been the same? They were gorgeous men, and she couldn’t keep her eyes off them. Their lives intrigued her, and she wanted to know more.
    If she was honest with herself, she liked being part of their world.
    While the cab made its slow way through town to Blaine’s apartment, she did some quick research on her phone. She looked up his mother’s address and his sister’s phone number. If his apartment turned out to be a dead-end, surely his family knew of his whereabouts. Of course, the cops would have thought of this too, and they’d be just as harassed as Alan had been.
    But she had ways to wheedle information from people, and she planned to pull out all stops.
    As they passed a certain building, a memory struck. “Stop the cab please!”
    They came to a