The Bad Boys of Eden (31 page)

“Yes?”

“I’m Mr. Sharpton, the manager of the hotel. The master of the island asked me to share this with you.”

Jett took the file folder the manager proffered. “He said he hopes you’ll find the information helpful.” With that, Mr. Sharpton gave them a quick nod and left.

Carissa and Jett stepped away from the bar to a more secluded area where they couldn’t be overheard. Opening the folder, Jett perused the papers inside, explaining it was the doctor’s notes in regards to the way Gregory was murdered.

“So whoever killed him drugged him first?”

“It would appear so,” Jett said in response to Carissa’s question.

“That would have made it easier for a woman to bind Gregory to the chair. If he was incapacitated, he wouldn’t have put up much of a fight.”

Jett continued flipping through the details. “And after the killer had Gregory bound, he made sure the man suffered.”

“How so?”

Jett grimaced as he read Dr. Magdalene’s notes. “The penis was cut off first.”

“Yikes. I was sort of hoping for Gregory’s sake that had happened after he was dead.”

“Me too.” Jett turned to the last page. “The doctor said the amount of blood lost indicates the stab to the heart came later…much later.”

“So this murderer was pissed off and determined to make Gregory suffer.”

“It sounds like it.” Jett studied a photograph.

“What’s that?” Carissa asked.

Jett flipped through the small stack of pictures, showing them to Carissa. “The security team took pictures of the crime scene. Given the splatter pattern around the chair, the killer must have been covered in blood.”

“How do you think he got back into the hotel without anyone seeing all that blood on his clothes?”

“I have no idea.” Jett closed the file folder. “But you’re not stepping foot in that dungeon tonight.”

“Excuse me?”

Jett released a long sigh. “Rissa, please try to see reason. We’re looking at a brutal killing. We have no idea what set this person off. We can’t assume the killer had any personal relationship with Gregory at all. You said it yourself last night. What if it’s someone who sees BDSM as an abomination and has it out for anyone who shows up at the dungeon?”

Carissa shook her head. “No. I was just grasping at straws. Besides, that scenario doesn’t feel right to me. Whoever did this had a definite grudge against Gregory. It was personal.”

“So let me go to the dungeon tonight alone. I’ll ask a few questions, and then come back up to our room where we can discuss what I learn safely. We’ll put the pieces together there.”

“We can cover more ground if I come too, Jett. You can strike up conversations with the Doms, but let’s face it, the subs aren’t going to talk to you so openly. Unless you’re intending to play with them, of course.” Carissa tried to keep the jealousy out of her tone. But she failed miserably.

“I’m not playing with anyone but you, Rissa.”

She rolled her eyes. “You have serious issues when it comes to listening.”

Jett gripped her hips, pulling her lower body forward until his crotch—and erection—brushed against her. “You’re right. I do. I’m much better at reading between the lines.”

She tried to push away, but Jett’s grip was tenacious. Finally, she simply gave in. It was easier. And her resistance when it came to Jett was perilously low. “I’m going with you tonight.”

Jett studied her face. From his chagrined expression, he knew he wouldn’t win. “Fine. But we’re playing it my way. You’ll go in as my collared sub. I don’t want another man even looking at you.”

“Jealous much?”

“Hell yeah. And determined to keep you safe. Any man in that place could be the killer, so you’re going to give them all a wide berth. Understood?”

She nodded, her own unease growing. She’d volunteered them to go undercover for one very selfish reason last night. She had wanted a reason to return to the dungeon with him. One that didn’t involve having to admit she was falling in love with Jett.

Now she realized there was no avoiding that inevitable outcome. So what she’d actually done was put them both in danger.

Unfortunately, even if she admitted the mistake, Jett was determined to investigate the crime. He’d talked of little else today as they’d lounged in the sand, watching the waves lick the shore.

His wheels were turning—analyzing all the clues and searching for motives. Jett’s knack for problem solving was part of what made him such an amazing crime writer. He could see all the angles and twists. Carissa had never once managed to figure out who the killer was in one of his books.

“Come on, Rissa. Let’s head back to the room. We can discuss our plan of attack for tonight.”

She took the hand he offered, relieved that with crime on his mind, at least Jett was distracted from his previous intentions. Seduction seemed to be off the table this afternoon.

She’d dodged that bullet again.

For the moment.

Chapter Seven

Jett sat at a table in the dungeon, watching as Carissa crossed the room to get him a drink from the bar. There were two unattached subs sitting at the counter—one the woman they’d seen with Gregory the previous night. Carissa had insisted on going over to strike up a conversation with the woman and Jett couldn’t come up with a good enough reason for her not to. Simply saying he didn’t want her more than two feet away from him wasn’t going to fly with his headstrong lady.

He shifted in his seat, trying to covertly adjust his cock in his tight jeans. He’d been rock hard ever since Carissa had stepped out of the bathroom an hour earlier in the outfit he’d purchased for her in the boutique downstairs. Roan had told him during the tour of the dungeon last night about the boutique’s “back room,” that specialized in fetish wear.

He’d dragged Carissa into the shop on their way back from the bar and picked out the sexy leather corset that zipped up the front, laced loosely down her back and framed her breasts perfectly. He’d thought she would balk when he finished the ensemble with a g-string, garters, black stockings and sexy fuck-me heels. Carissa hadn’t blinked twice. Once they got this messy business of murder out of the way, the two of them were going to explore every single one of his little submissive’s kinks.

Glancing around the room, he spotted several Doms looking in Carissa’s direction. Fortunately, he’d been smart enough to add a collar to her outfit. Though BDSM was more play than lifestyle to him, he liked the idea of Carissa belonging to him more than he cared to admit.

His feelings for her had snuck up on him, taking him down like a ton of bricks falling on his head. In two days, he’d forgotten what it felt like to regard her as nothing more than a friend. He couldn’t figure out how he’d felt such lukewarm affection for her for so long. He’d been a blind fool, but those days were over.

“She’s quite beautiful.”

Jett looked up, surprised to see another Dom standing next to his table. He was usually more aware of his surroundings, but with Carissa in the room, everything else seemed out of focus.

“Yes. She is.”

The man gestured to a chair and Jett nodded. “Please. Join me. I’m Jett.”

“Phillip,” the man responded as he claimed the seat Carissa had vacated a few minutes earlier. “Jett, huh? That’s an unusual name.”

Jett had heard that a lot. “Yeah. I know. My mother wasn’t big on family names. If she heard a name she liked, that was it.”

Phillip chuckled. “Only other Jett I’ve ever heard of is that author. Writes pretty good crime novels.”

“Jett Lewis.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Phillip said. “You a fan?”

Jett shrugged. “Sort of. I’m him.”

Phillip reared back in his seat. “Is that right? How about that? I’ve read all your books. Haven’t seen one lately though. You got anything new out?”

If he’d met this man two days ago, this conversation would have been a lot more painful. Today, however, he was a writer with a plot and the words were screaming to hit the page. “Not recently. But soon. I’m working on a story right now.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Jett glanced in Carissa’s direction to check on her.

Phillip followed his gaze. “I saw you and your lovely lady here last night. She wasn’t collared.”

Jett had been concerned someone would notice that fact. After all, Carissa had made quite an impression on the Doms last night. It wasn’t surprising the man had recalled her unattached status, especially if he’d been interested.

“We traveled to Eden together. I wanted to solidify our relationship here.”

“Very romantic.”

Jett nodded. “Exactly.” Then Jett decided to test the waters. “At least Gregory isn’t here tonight to bother her again.”

Phillip nodded and it struck Jett that there wasn’t much the man had missed last night. “The night’s still young. Gregory could always make an appearance later, although I’ll admit I’m confused by Stella’s presence here without him.”

“Stella?”

Phillip nodded toward Carissa and the other woman at the bar. “Gregory’s sub. She appears to be flying solo tonight. I can’t imagine she’s here with Gregory’s permission. The guy is possessive as hell.”

It struck Jett that Phillip knew more about Gregory and Stella than what a random stranger would notice at a glance. “Are you and Gregory friends?”

Phillip crossed his arms. “Not exactly.” His tone said “not at all.”

Jett tried to think of a way to keep the conversation going, but Phillip gave him a hand, explaining the acquaintance without further prodding. “My work takes me to D.C. quite often. I’ve crossed paths with Gregory a few times in a club there.”

The look on Phillip’s face told Jett the man wasn’t fond of Gregory. “Small world. Guess you weren’t expecting to run into him here as well. And it doesn’t sound like you’re happy about it.”

Phillip scowled. “The BDSM community isn’t that large.”

Jett started to ask another question, but Phillip rose. “Congratulations to you and your sub. If you’ll excuse me.”

Phillip left hastily and his retreat made Jett suspicious. Of course, Jett had looked at everyone in the club tonight with an eye toward murder. Phillip hadn’t done or said anything that made him a suspect apart from the fact he knew Gregory and didn’t like him. Jett was certain most people who’d met Gregory weren’t fond of the asshole.

“Jett?”

He looked up, surprised to realize Carissa had walked back across the room without him noticing. Some bodyguard he was. “Excuse me?”

She bit her lip. “I mean Sir.”

He grinned and pointed to the chair next to him. Carissa was still a bit uneasy about her role in the dungeon. When they’d arrived, he’d told her that they may be undercover, but this place wasn’t a game to him. She still hadn’t accepted what he wanted from her, so instead he intended to show her. He’d instructed her to call him “Sir” while they were in the dungeon, explaining she would be his submissive within these walls.

She took the chair, then leaned closer. “I met Gregory’s sub, Stella.”

He nodded. “I noticed the two of you were chatting. Did you find anything out?”

Carissa shrugged. “Not really. I don’t mean to sound cold, but Stella’s not exactly the brightest bulb in the lamp.”

Jett chuckled. “Did she mention Gregory?”

“Yeah. She’s actually here looking for him. Said he was furious last night after Roan kicked him out of the club. Apparently the asshole blamed
her
for bleeding. She said he stormed off and she hasn’t seen him since.”

“And she wasn’t alarmed enough to report him missing? We’re on an island, for God’s sake.”

Carissa gave him an exasperated look. “She didn’t seem to think his disappearance was all that unusual. I get the impression she views his absence as some sort of punishment.”

“So she’s here, sitting at the bar in the dungeon alone, dressed like that?” Jett turned to study Stella. Though she wasn’t sending out any obvious signals, her mere presence and attire suggested she was looking for a Dom—any Dom. “I don’t think Gregory and Stella have a clue how this community works.”

Carissa grinned ruefully. “They’re not exactly alone.”

Jett turned his attention to her. He’d allowed her to come to the club under the ruse of participating in this investigation. Truthfully, he had an ulterior motive. One he intended to move on now.

“You look beautiful tonight, Carissa.”

She stopped looking around the club, her gaze finding his as she flushed. He got the impression Carissa hadn’t been paid a lot of compliments in her life. He planned to make up for lost time.

“Thanks. You know, you never call me Carissa unless you’re pissed off at me. Or we’re here.”

He nodded, glad she’d picked up on the distinction. “I know.”

She bit her lower lip. She was adorable when she was nervous.

“Stand up, Carissa. And turn around.”

Carissa hesitated for only a moment before rising slowly. Jett wondered how he’d ever missed seeing this part of her. She’d always come off as hard as nails, the type to take no prisoners back home at the bar. Somehow he’d failed to see this softer side. The one that longed to give herself completely to someone she trusted.

Jett was honored she’d given that trust to him. Carissa stood with her back to him, her posture straight and sure. She may be out of her element, but she didn’t let her unease show. Jett admired her confidence, the way she never backed down from a challenge.

Carissa didn’t move as he let his gaze travel from the graceful curve of her neck, along her back and down to her shapely ass. The thong she wore revealed way more than it covered. She had a sexy body—one she’d kept hidden from him for years.

Jett stood and stepped closer. He let her feel the heat from his body against her back. He grasped her hips in his hands, tugging her until her ass brushed the front placket of his jeans. His cock was hard, aching. He’d told her he wouldn’t take her until she agreed to a relationship. He didn’t doubt he’d pay for that promise. Carissa wasn’t going down easily. While she was willing to play with him here, she still viewed this time as a short-term escape from reality.

Something that wouldn’t follow them back home.

She was wrong.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands rising until he found her breasts. He dragged his fingertips along the tops before burrowing beneath the tight leather in search of her nipples.

“I want to show you off,” he whispered, enjoying the way she shivered when his breath tickled her ear.

“Okay.”

He kissed the side of her neck. “You aren’t allowed to speak anymore. The rest of the evening is about feeling. Nothing more. The only word you’re permitted to say is your safe word.”

She nodded once, clearly wanting what he was offering.

Leaning closer, he found the front zipper to her corset. As he slid it downward a couple of inches, he said, “You’re going to be tempted to say that word, Carissa.”

She turned then, tilted her head to look at his face. He sensed she was seeking reassurance that it was still him. Still Jett, her friend. He didn’t give her the comfort she sought. He’d lowered his mask, making sure she realized this wasn’t the Jett she knew.

She frowned at the serious expression on his face. “Jett.” Her voice was quiet, uncertain.

He scowled. “Not here, Carissa. Tonight I’m Sir. And I told you not to speak. You disobeyed me.”

She licked lips he imagined had gone dry due to nervousness. He released her breasts and gripped her upper arm, leading her to one of the leather tables in the main room. It was in a fairly prominent spot, well-lit, visible to almost everyone around them. He’d offered her privacy last night, choosing to initiate her slowly and without the watchful eyes of others. Tonight would be different.

She started to bend over the table, but he tightened his hold on her arm. “Don’t do anything I don’t tell you to do.”

She froze and he watched a myriad of expressions cross her face—confusion, annoyance and a smattering of fear. He was stronger than her and he made sure she understood that through his tight grasp.

For a few seconds, they stood there in a mini face-off. Carissa was the first to relent, her body relaxing, the stiffness in her frame going softer. Then, she lowered her eyes.

Jett took in a deep breath, fighting for control. He’d never wanted anyone more than he wanted her.

He released her arm, and then reached for the zipper to her corset once more. Carissa glanced nervously around the room as he lowered it, revealing her breasts to anyone who cared to look in their direction.

“Keep your eyes on my face, Carissa. I’m the only person in this room who matters right now.”

Her gaze flew back to his, her breathing more erratic.

The corset fell away easily once the zipper was undone. It was one of the reasons he’d picked it out. Given his eagerness to see her, he knew he’d never have the patience to fool around with tightly tied laces.

He placed the corset on a chair nearby as Carissa held still. The woman was a hundred and thirty pounds of pure courage.

Jett reached out to touch her breasts, cupping the firm flesh before pinching her nipples roughly. She winced at the quick, sharp pain. He leaned forward to kiss away the sting, enjoying the sound of her light sigh.

Jett suckled only a moment before he bit the distended nub. Carissa jerked slightly, her arms rising as if to push him away. He stood quickly and gave her a warning look. “Arms at your sides. You’ve already earned one punishment for speaking without permission. You don’t want to add to that tally, Carissa. Trust me.”

She lowered her hands, the fingers forming fists. Jett wondered if she’d throw a punch if he pushed her too far. Carissa wasn’t afraid to show her physical side, to use force if provoked. He’d actually intervened once at the Royal Lunch, pushing Carissa out of harm’s way when she threw herself between two drunks picking a fight. He’d started to read her the riot act afterwards for putting herself in a dangerous position, but she’d cut his diatribe short, launching into one of her own, giving him hell for getting in her way.