Natural Law

He stayed to make her breakfast. And to give her information. While she watched him make muffins from the scratch materials in her kitchen, he told her about his case.

She had heard about the two murdered men, but he gave her a high level of detail so she could offer her opinion, complimenting her instincts in a way she could not miss or deny being flattered by.

"You're moving in the same circles as the murderess," he explained, "and you're trained. The more you know, the more likely you'll remember something you saw, or you'll see something that will help. " He hesitated. "I brought pictures of the victims. I thought you might want to take a closer look, see if you remembered them." She examined them, the family-provided photos next to the gruesome remains of those smiling portraits. "They must have come on different nights from me." She tapped Rodriguez's face. "This one is familiar, but I didn't know him at The Zone. Most of us have a regular schedule when we go, and those of us with day jobs can't come as often or stay as late. Did they have memberships in other clubs?"

"None in common except The Zone."

"Well, why even have that commonality?"

"She wants the top of the line, the ones who are obsessively careful and well established. She's saying something by killing them."

"Well, if that's the case, and she's as smart as you say, I'm willing to bet she finds her mark at The Zone, but she approaches them and picks them up elsewhere, so she's never seen with them at the place that they had in common." Violet slid the photos back in the envelope.

"Possible," he agreed, rising to put the case file away. "It's an angle we're investigating now."

Violet rubbed her stomach, eyed the steaming blueberry muffins. Her brow drew down over her forehead.

"I don't have fresh blueberries."

"No, you don't. You do have some raisins that look about two years old. I pitched them before you poison yourself."

"Did you bring a toothbrush in one of those grocery bags, too?" She asked archly.

Mac grinned, bent down and kissed her cheek, didn't appear at all surprised when she turned and bit his throat. "A good slave is always well prepared."

"Smooth talker."

When he went back to the sink, she indulged herself in breaking off a piece. "You're dangerous to have around, Nighthorse. I'm going to have to spend all my time in the gym."

"You can work out with me, sugar. I'll keep you in shape." She rolled her eyes at him, then abruptly sat up straight in her chair. "Mac, that's it.

The gym. That's where I saw Rodriguez. The guys who visit the clubs like The Zone, particularly subs, they're workout-aholics. Maybe...what if your perp scopes them out at The Zone, notes the bag they carry in and out of the club? It's what most of us use to bring our change of clothes. Most of them have the logo of whatever the fitness club is.

All she'd have to do is notice that, get herself a guest membership to that gym, stake out the parking lot a few days, show up on a night he's there.

"A guest membership is just a slip of paper, with no name on it," she continued, thinking hard, "So it gives her an excellent cover. She initiates a contact, gets to know him, lets him know by the vibes she's a Dom, wires into that part of him, wins his trust and - "

"Bingo," Mac said softly. "She has her victim, without ever having been seen together at The Zone, where she first selected him. Possibly not even the same place as the other vics, if they all had different workout memberships. And a gym is a meat market. Defenses are down, open to physical contact and stimulation." He pursed his lips, nodded, pulled out his cell phone, dialed. "Consuela. Mac. Do me a favor, sugar. See if the workout clubs of our bondage vics keep any kind of guest membership rosters, and if there's any record of our victims visiting there with a guest in the past couple months. I've got a good tip. I think it will pan out." His eyes shifted to Violet, who picked up her orange juice, set it back down. "Just leave what you find on my voice mail. Appreciate it."

He disconnected, studied Violet who was staring moodily now at her plate. "What's bothering you, sugar?" he reached out, covered her hand on the table.

"Her." She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm going to sound stupid and naive, and I'm not."

"No, you're not," he agreed. "So nothing you're going to say is going to sound that way. Tell me."

Violet rose, went to her window, stared out through the sheer panel. "It offends me," she said at last. "Deeply. I... To be given the trust of a sub... every Mistress, every Master longs for that. It's a gift beyond comprehension to the vanilla world. Maybe even to subs. From what you told me, this isn't a random one night fuck, two people just living on the edge. She chooses a careful sub, a person who lives his life in a moral, responsible way. She wins his trust, builds that bond. She likely achieves that gift. And I think that's when she does it. That horrifies me." She turned to face him, raised her chin. "Now you can tell me I'm being too sensitive, too green." He shook his head. "I've worked on this case for over two months. When I leave you, I go to the station, stare at the pictures, try to connect the dots and sack out in the break room. I'm pouring my soul into this one. For the same reason you feel as you do now. I understand the deep breach, the line she's broken, and it hits very close to home.

It was a bond of trust, and that trust should never be betrayed." Icy fear touched her abruptly at the flash of anger in his tone. "Mac, you aren't...I'm the only Dom you're involved with right now."

"I told you, I don't - "

"I wasn't questioning your fidelity. I meant for your job." She came to him. With him sitting, she had a slight height advantage to stare hard into his face, try to impose her will on him through sheer determination. "Your undercover work."

"Yes, right now. There hasn't been a need to branch out, because I felt hooking up with a well-connected Dom in the scene would be enough, and I've been just trawling through on my off nights, watching the rooms and the action, trying to make connections. And see some connection I've missed," he added quickly, at her narrowed eyes.

"You won't go there alone anymore."

"Violet," he scraped back the chair, stood. "This is my job."

"And it's your ass you're carrying around, and it belongs to me." She was riding on fear, because she could see clearly what he did not seem to. No safe words, no boundaries.

Silver eyes could become steel very quickly, she found, and she remembered the expression on his face when he had wanted to go after Jonathan, that first night. And the picture in the paper. The unbridled fury wasn't there, but the icy edge of danger was.

"Careful, sugar. There's a big difference between a sexual submissive and a lap dog.

I don't take orders from anyone but the sergeant when it comes to my job."

"No," she shook her head, staving off his annoyed response. "She knows what she's doing, and as a sub, you could be vulnerable to that."

"Violet, I've been on the force for twenty years - "

"But you're too close to it - "

"And I'm with you," he finished, startling her into silence with the forceful statement. "I'm with you," he said, more softly, touching her face.

"I know," she put her forehead on his chest, closed her eyes, listened to his heartbeat. "I had to try. I care about you, Mac. I care a lot. Let me help you."

"You are."

"Why are you the undercover person for this? They don't usually put in an established detective. You'd be too easily made."

"Because it's plausible that a cop who is really a sexual submissive would choose to indulge it in a heavy security place like The Zone."

"Then why is your sergeant letting you be in there without back up?" She said, frustrated. "This isn't my area of expertise, but shouldn't somebody be watching your back?"

"Somebody is," he said. "She just wasn't aware of it until this moment."

"Not if you're going in there when I'm not around," she said, not mollified. "Don't try charm, Mackenzie. It will only piss me off more." Patiently he explained the call-in contact arrangement he had with Darla. Violet's eyes widened as he briefly touched on their conversation.

"You told your boss." She shook her head. "I knew you had impressive balls, but they're even larger than they look."

"It wasn't easy," he shifted, obviously uncomfortable with the flattery. "It just had to be done."

She nodded. "I get that. So you're going to do two things for me."

"What?" he asked warily.

She went to her phone table, came back with another card like she'd given him, scrawled her cell phone, pager and home phone on the back. "You give that to your sergeant. Tell her I'll be the inside person watching your back."

"Violet, that means she'll know. I don't want to risk you or your reputation in your department. It was hard enough for me to do it. You know cops work on the streets, close to the hookers and peep shows, and they don't see a big difference between what we do and the criminal side of it."

"You trusted your sergeant enough to tell her. Now I will, too. We both want the same thing. You, alive. If you trust her, I trust her." She held his gaze. "I won't crowd you, I'll defer to your experience, but I won't let you be in there unprotected. This is a smart, smart Dom, Mac. If she figures out you're there for her, I'm willing to bet she won't run. She'll want to stand and fight. And because she's a woman, she'll fight dirty.

She'll try to take you down when you're not looking."

"I'm hoping not. I'd like the chance to take her down."

"Then we can do it together. Though I expect to get my department a stroke if I'm right about the gym bag."

"A full month's worth of Krispy Kremes, I promise."

"Arrogant creep," she retorted, but some of the stress eased out of her as he raised his hand, threaded it through her hair and stroked.

"What was the second thing?"

"What - oh." Her eyes crinkled. "You ever call another woman 'sugar' again, other than me, and you won't sit down for a week."

He grinned, the tension leaving his shoulders as well. "Yes, Mistress."