Chapter Eleven

Alexis wasn't sure how to feel about what she had seen as the club. All she knew was that she was naive to think that the women and men were only there for one thing and one thing only. It never worked out that way.

That women was a junkie and was clearly willing to do whatever it took to get her next fix, which made Alexis scared and worried for the woman, but it also intrigued her. Her actions were those of a sub. She was willing to do whatever it took to please the man in front of her. Maybe her vic had, too.

Maybe she hadn't been a sub at the club. Maybe that was just a place she frequented because people were dealing out of there. Why hadn't that occurred to her before?

Alexis dug through all the information she had on her vic, scanning for the one paper that she needed to confirm her suspicions. The toxicology report showed that there were no drugs in her system. Alexis looked again at the report and bit her lip.

Alexis could have been wrong, maybe the vic had been a sub who got involved with the wrong dom, but the thing with Alexis was that when she had her mind made up and was feeling particularly excited about a hunch, she followed through with it.

To anyone else, they may have seen this as simple black and white case, but that wasn't how Alexis felt. If she could prove that the vic had been killed because of drugs, then maybe she could find out who she was buying from, and if she figured that out, maybe she could put that dealer out of business. Alexis couldn't turn away now.

She bit her lip. If the vic hadn't been going to the club to get drugs for herself, maybe she was going for someone else? Maybe she was just a middleman who got caught in the sights of a dom who wanted more than she could bargain?

She tapped her pen on her desk, as she read over the same file she had read countless time already, but the difference now was that she could look for different things.

Alexis' mind went back to the scene she saw at the club the night before. The woman begging for a fix. Maybe her vic had bought from Mr. O'Connell before. Maybe she didn't have enough to give him, and when he tried to get something else from her, she resisted and things just went to shit from there?

While thinking about the man, Alexis remembered they way that he had looked at her. As if she was somehow a waste of space just because she happened to stumble across him. The look he'd given her sent chills up her spine because she had only seen one other look like that before in her life. It was a look she had seen in Kevin's eyes when he found out about her infidelity. Whenever she thought about that look in Kevin's eyes, she always got shivers that would roll down her spine and it also made her sick to her stomach.

It was weird that she ever thought that O'Connell resembled Kevin in any way, but that look, they had that same look and Alexis didn't know what to think about it.

The next time Alexis went to the club, Fenton O'Connell would be the first person on her list.

She set the files down on her desk and sighed before rubbing her temples. While she was supposed to be piecing together a plan for how to get any information out of O'Connell, Alexis' mind kept going to Kevin. She used to see him in the bullpen, talking to Javi or even Beckett, but he hadn't been around for a while.

"Hey, Javi," Alexis said to her partner. His face was buried in a file.

"What's up?" he said, not looking up.

"Um," Alexis started, feeling a little nervous. "I haven't seen Kevin around lately."

"That's not a question, Alexis."

"No, it isn't, but I think the question was implied."

Javi nodded and then set down the file as he stood up and then sat on the edge of his desk, facing Alexis. "He left."

"Left? Meaning, what?" Alexis asked.

"He accepted a job in Boston, apparently he thought that a change of scenery was needed, so he talked to Beckett about it and then he left."

Alexis' mind reeled over the information. She tried to process it, tried to understand how it could have happened, but her mind was blank. It didn't make any sense to her. Kevin loved his job, he loved New York, he loved so many of the people he worked with. His decision to leave wasn't adding up in Alexis' head.

"Boston?"

"Yeah, it came as a bit of a shock, but," Javi shrugged his shoulders. "It was his decision to make, so he made it."

"Wow," Alexis mumbled, unsure of how to react.

"Yeah, I wanted to tell you before, but I figure it would be best to put it off, you know, wait to see if you even wanted to know."

"Of course I would want to know, Javi."

"Why? You and Kevin aren't close anymore. Every time you two were in the same room I thought you'd kill each other."

Alexis couldn't deny that. "It hasn't been easy, but Kevin and I have a history. If he left, it would have been nice to know. I figured I…" She stopped herself. Why was she unloading on Javi? It wasn't his fault that Kevin left. It wasn't his fault that things were so twisted with her and Kevin.

"You figured what?" Javi asked, his arms crossed, eyes focused on her. She opened her mouth to speak, but quickly closed, releasing a sigh.

"Nothing. It doesn't matter. Like you said, Kevin and I are nothing to each other anymore, why should I care where he is?" She cleared her throat and gathered her emotions. "This is a good thing."

"It is?"

"Yes. If Kevin wanted something different, wanted to be somewhere different, then I'm happy for him." Even to Alexis' mind, she sounded like a liar. She nodded to Javi. "Thanks for letting me know."

She knew that Javi wasn't buying her charade, not one bit, but he just nodded and then returned to his work. She sighed quietly, thankful that he'd given her an out.

How was she supposed to feel about this? Was it crazy to assume that if Kevin was going to move that he would tell her about it or was she just expecting too much? Maybe he had lost all respect for her. She shook her head slumped down in her chair, looking at the file in front of her. She was definitely going to the club tonight. She'd never needed a distraction more.

Alexis had been at the club for over an hour, casually walking around and scanning the employees and patrons for Mr. O'Connell. He was nowhere to be found. Her mouth twisted in defeat, and she found herself at the bar.

"What can I get you?"

Alexis looked up and caught the gaze of the bartender, the same dominatrix she'd seen her target talking to the night before. Alexis shook her head as an idea occurred. "Nothing to drink, but I am looking for Mr. O'Connell. Have you seen him?"

The bartender frowned. "Who's asking?"

"Me. I want to talk to him."

"Well, I've not seen him yet tonight, but I'll let him know you asked. What's your name?"

"Thanks," Alexis said, brushing off the bartender's question. She left the bar and began moving through the crowd again. Should she just go home? That guy was the best lead she'd gotten since setting foot in the place. She didn't want to waste her night waiting around, but she didn't want to miss out on a chance to speak with him, either.

As she stepped into the hallway leading to the locker rooms, a heavy hand gripped her upper arm. "Where're you going, little sub?"

A dom towered over her, a dark smile on his face. Though he was handsome enough, tall and blond, with white, perfectly straight teeth, there was something in his face that made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. His grip on her bicep was tighter than comfortable, and though her instinct was to push him away because she rarely allowed anyone to touch her anymore, she let his possessive touch remain.

Alexis recognized the look on his face, the purpose in his eyes as they raked over her frame. She'd seen that expression before, countless times, in the faces of every criminal she'd put away. Unlike the other doms she'd dangled herself in front of, this man wasn't looking for control or pleasure. He wanted to hurt her.

Her heart picked up in excitement. Was it possible that the murderer had fallen into her lap? Would it be so easy? She made her body soften, tilting her head in a submissive posture. "I'm looking for you," she purred.

His free hand slid around her back, into her hair, twining his fingers through her locks in a gesture of complete control. "Is that so?"

Alexis nodded, capturing her bottom lip between her teeth.

The dom leaned forward, so their noses were almost touching. His eyes were cold and apathetic. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Does it matter?"

He looked momentarily taken aback, then he sneered. "Guess not." His fingers fisted in her hair and he shoved her in front of him, pushing her down another hall to the private rooms.

The security cameras in the club made for entertaining television, if you were into that kind of thing. There was an endless supply of couples in power exchanges, playing out their kinks and most secret desires in public spaces. The exhibitionists.

Fenton, however, was not into either exhibitionism or voyeurism, so he gained little joy from his time spent reviewing security footage. It was a necessary task, but not a particularly enjoyable one.

He stopped the footage, zooming in when a familiar redhead passed into view. Alexis.

Tonight she was dressed to the nines in a short black skirt, fishnet stockings, stilettos, and a dark green corset top that she was practically spilling out of.

He'd seen all sorts of outfits over the last several nights, just like he'd seen her throwing herself at one dom after another, often two or three in the same night. He'd watched as she'd sought them out, batted her eyes at them, played the part of desirable submissive, chatted them up in a way that clearly meant she wanted something from each man.

At first, Fenton didn't care much about it. If she wanted to play, that was her right. She'd certainly been submissive enough when she'd caught that junkie soliciting herself to him in the back hallway.

Fenton had been convinced that he was fucked, but instead she'd turned her gaze downward and hurried away. Not so much a detective as a startled animal. No, Fenton didn't see her being an issue. She was just another woman seeking release. The detective in his mind wasn't overly pleased by this new development, and Fenton could sense his frustration, his disapproval. But Kevin knew better than to get involved.

Until Fenton realized that she might not be looking for sex or submission. Rumors had started about the redheaded sub who loved to lure a dom in and give him a case of blue balls. She was building a reputation as a tease.

A sad possibility had occurred to him then, that maybe the redhead was looking for something else that the club dealt in, that she was more interested in the drugs that were peddled under the table rather than anything the dom could offer her.

Kevin had immediately shot that down. That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. She's a cop. She's not looking for drugs. She doesn't use.

She wouldn't be the first of New York's finest to develop a habit, Fenton had responded. Fenton was much more pragmatic about the possibility; he didn't have the history that Kevin had, so it was easier to suspect the redhead for the likely answer. If she wasn't hanging around the club to play, then what was she there for?

Not drugs. She's smarter than that.

Kevin had been adamant, so Fenton left it alone. To be fair, the redhead didn't look like a user. Still, he'd made a point to look into the club's recent transactions and clients. Even if she wasn't using, there was something strange going on. Fenton had seen her draw men in with her body and mannerisms, he seen her chat with them, and some of the men disappeared with her into private rooms. Then, in far too short a time for any sort of fun to take place, he'd seen the doms reappear on the floor, more often than not looking furious. Alexis would usually follow after a fashion, looking nothing like the seductive woman who had lured them in. If anything, she looked pale, thin, lost. Like she was searching for something impossible to find.

Kevin lurched at that image. He knew something was wrong. It was almost eerie, unsettling to see that siren mask fall back into place as she sought her next target.

"What are you looking for?" Fenton murmured as he watched the live security footage.

Alexis was near the bar now. She'd looked like she was talking to Tessa, but now Seth was talking to her. Unease prickled in his stomach. Seth wasn't a dom; he was an animal. Cruel, vindictive and easily offended.

He watched her simper at Seth, falling back into her persona. Their exchange was short, and soon Seth was pulling her by her hair to the private rooms.

The camera caught Alexis' wince as she was dragged away, and a snarl ripped out of Fenton's chest. No, not Fenton's. That reaction was all Kevin, and he wasn't about to let Alexis continue her game with one of the resident psychopaths.

His phone chimed with a text. A picture of Alexis, no doubt taken by Tessa. "She was asking for you," the text said.

"Shit." He rubbed his face and stood, toggling through the security footage in the hallway outside the private rooms to determine where they were holed up. He left the room, allowing the door to lock behind him as he walked briskley to his destination.

It was time to put a pin in this.

Alexis took a deep breath, keeping all of her instincts at bay. Don't lash out. Lure him in. Find out if he was the man she was looking for first, and then she could put him back in his place.

He kicked open a door and shoved her in front of him so hard that she stumbled. Protective instincts were on high alert, and she scrambled to her feet, flipping her body around to face him. He reached for something on a table next to the door, and her eyes landed on a black bag just a second before her brain understood the implication.

"Wait!" Her hands flew up, and she caught one of his wrists as he tried to shove the bag over her head. Bright light burst up the side of her face, pain echoing through her cheekbone, her ear ringing in disorientation, and her took advantage of her moment of weakness, shoving the bag over her head and cinching the drawstring shut under her chin. "Stop!" she shouted, tasting blood in her mouth. "Red! Red!" She reached for the bag, but he gripped her wrists painfully, pulling her against his chest.

"Did you really think you'd get away with it? Running around like a cocktease every night?" He leaned closer, and she could feel the heat of his breath through the bag. "It's time you learned your lesson."

With a snarl, Alexis smashed her forehead into his face, then, gripping his shoulders for leverage, slammed her knee upward between his legs.

The dom shouted in pain and surprise, and Alexis took the opportunity to back up and yank the bag off her head.

"You fucking bitch!" Still holding his injured parts, blood streaming from his nose, the man stumbled back against the door. There was so much hatred in his eyes, she honestly couldn't tell if he would back off or try to finish what he'd started. Her mind was spinning with adrenaline and bits of information, but now wasn't the time to process it.

Alexis stepped forward, sizing him up, showing him she wasn't afraid. That he wouldn't make her cower. To her satisfaction, the dom took a half-step back, pressing himself against the door. Their scene wasn't going according to his plan, either, Alexis realized. The thought only made her angrier.

"I'm leaving now," she said quietly, her face throbbing. "Get out of my way."

He spat at her, his saliva and blood landing at her feet. He clearly wasn't used to his victims fighting back.

Alexis bristled, ready to push him out of the way if necessary, when the door was shoved open, and the dom was knocked against the wall.

Mr. O'Connell stomped into the room, looking from the bloodied dom to Alexis, who was somewhat disheveled from the man's rough handling. His eyes narrowed on Alexis' face, and she suddenly felt self conscious about her swollen, heated cheek.

He didn't raise his voice, but Alexis felt both his authority and his displeasure sink into her bones, even as he quietly said, "What the hell is going on in here?"

"This is the sub Antonio was talking about," the dom supplied. "The one that's been poking around and acting like a—"

"Enough," O'Connell snapped. "You," his eyes locked on Alexis. "Come with me."

He held out his hand, and Alexis hesitated. She wanted out of that room, away from the man who had hurt her, but she wasn't exactly eager to end up in another situation with another criminal. And even though she'd been wanting nothing more than a private audience with Mr. O'Connell, in that moment all she wanted was to return to the refuge of her locked, safe apartment.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, then stepped forward, taking Alexis by the arm and physically pulling her from the room. She resisted, but his grip, though gentle, was unbreakable. It wasn't until they were several paces down the hallway that he allowed her to jerk her arm out of his grip. She backed against the wall, watching him warily. "Thanks for the help, but I think I'm gonna go home now."

"I'd like to hear what happened." He looked around. "In private."

"I think it's pretty obvious," she mumbled, avoiding his gaze. This man watched her like he could read her thoughts. Like he could see past the bravado and knew about all the broken pieces beneath it. Alexis realized her hands were shaking, and she curled them into fists at her side. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off, though she wasn't yet out of danger.

"You look like you're about to be sick," he said it matter of factly, not an ounce of worry on his face.

Cold sweat clung to the back of her neck and she felt goosebumps rise on her skin. She couldn't lose it in front of this man, this drug dealer. And she would certainly lose it if she kept standing in that hallway. She pushed off the wall, forcing her shaking legs to continue in the direction he'd been taking her. "Where are we going?"

He fell into step beside her. "My office." She saw him glance sideways at her out of the corner of her eye. "Do you need to sit down, or something?"

"I'm fine." She let him lead her, ignoring the way her heartbeat was pounding in her skull, the way her legs felt both a hundred pounds and brittle as a dried reed. She kept her breaths as even as possible, riding out her body's response. She'd had adrenaline crashes before, during dangerous encounters with suspects and criminals, and she'd eventually been fine. The only difference now was that she didn't have anyone to back her up. She needed to handle it herself.

By the time they reached a shining wooden door on the second level of the club, her vision was beginning to tunnel. Alexis leaned against the wall, vacantly watching O'Connell's hands as they inserted a key into the lock. He pushed the door open before turning to her. A far off mumbling sound echoed dimly in her head. She didn't understand it.

She flinched when warm hands cupped her chin, tilting her head up to look him in the eye. He was terribly handsome, she realized. Even the blurrier parts. He must not have liked what he'd seen in her face, because that beautiful face twisted in displeasure, and suddenly the world slipped out from beneath her feet and she was surrounded by the warm steel of his arms and a rich, masculine scent.

Realization hit her. Oh, shit. She was going to pass out. Not acceptable. Not safe. Not advisable. The fear only made the world recede faster.

Alexis clung to that last thread of consciousness like the lifeline it was, and even though her senses blurred and ebbed, she was aware of certain sensations: her back pressing against sometime soft and supportive, something light and warm cocooning her, a cool cloth pressing against her heated face, her neck. Gently murmured words washed over her, though she couldn't understand them.

Slowly, the haze shifted, and Alexis lifted her ten-ton eyelids. The first thing she saw was honey-brown eyes framed by those black-rimmed glasses. There was a crease between his eyebrows. Words tumbled and bounced around in her ears, but it took several long seconds before they registered.

"You with me, Red?"

"Lexis, " she mumbled, her voice rough as she thoughtlessly replied. "My name is Alexis."

A half-smile pulled at his lips and he gently pressed the cool cloth against her forehead. "Fenton. Fenton O'Connell."

His surname sent a stark dose of reality plummeting through her hazy brain. A drug dealer. A criminal. A suspect. Alexis sat upright, her head spinning and protesting the sudden change. Fenton was there, his hands firm on her shoulders.

"Take it easy."

She jerked his hands off her shoulders, ignoring both his frown and the pang of disappointment. It had been so long since she'd been touched, and he'd been so soothing and gentle. A soft blanket had slipped down, pooling in her lap. She shivered as her bare arms were exposed to the air, then tensed as she caught Fenton watching her every move. He sat in front of her on an ottoman, his elbows resting on his knees. "Thank you," she said, more to fill the silence than anything else.

"Don't mention it." He watched her for a second. "How are you feeling now?"

"Good enough." She looked around the warmly light, ornate office and back to the chaise lounge she'd been laying on. "How long—"

"About ten minutes."

She nodded. "Good thing you knew what to do."

"I know sub drop when I see it. You're in the right place for that, at least."

Alexis tensed, and her eyes flicked down to her lap before she could stop them. From what little she'd gathered, that phrase was meant for a slew of physiological responses to a scene, usually bad responses, the symptoms of which were not unlike her adrenaline crashes. Aftercare usually helped alleviate and prevent most of those responses, hence the blanket wrapped around her frame, the cool cloth against her skin, and the kind and gentle way it had been dragged over her skin.

She couldn't believe the man in front of her was the same one she'd seen the night before with that user. That man was all coldness and hard angles and…. Feral. There was an predatory quality to the snarl marring his features and the way his body turned to face hers that night. Now, his body casually folded over the ottoman in front of her, he merely looked concern. Clinical, yes, that coldness was still there, but, and this was the stupidest part, Alexis felt a measure of safety with this man. Just because he'd come between her and that other dom, just because he'd been kind to her and had administered to her when she hadn't been entirely lucid… That didn't mean he wasn't a threat. He was a dealer, after all. And, judging by the state of his office, he held a lot of power at that club. Yes, he could definitely be a threat if he wanted to, and, here in his office, her body coming down from its shock, she might actually be more vulnerable than she'd been with the dom in that playroom.

"He didn't give you anything, did he?"

"Huh?" she asked dumbly, her thoughts yanked to the present.

Fenton's response was to lean forward, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his fingers testing the temperature of her skin. "Are you dizzy again?"

"No," she said, equal parts wanting to smack his hand away and savor his touch. She allowed herself two extra seconds of the gentle contact before pulling back. His hands returned to his lap. "What did you say?"

His gaze seemed almost microscopic. "I asked if he gave you anything. The man you were with."

"Oh. No, he didn't."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," She nodded. "We didn't drink together. Or anything else, really."

"Good. No need to add inebriation to the mix."

There was a certain amount of judgment in his words, and Alexis frowned. "What do you mean?"

Fenton shrugged. "You've been teasing a lot of the doms in this club lately. Drinking would likely worsen the consequences."

"Are you saying that it's my fault this happened?"

"No, the fault lies with that man alone, but actions have consequences and because of the attention you've drawn, I can't guarantee your safety at this club. The men here can be…" His mouth twisted, " surprisingly sensitive if their authority is challenged."

"Isn't consent supposed to be paramount?"

"Yes, to a good dom." He nodded.

"You're a dom?"

"Pretty obvious deduction, there. I think the less obvious thing is whether or not you are truly a submissive."

"Of course I'm a sub." Alexis shook her head, like his doubting her was ridiculous. Like she wasn't worried about her paltry cover being blown.

"You dress like one, but I somehow doubt that you've ever submitted yourself. Or that you seek any kind of submission." He reached out to her again, a gentle brush of his fingertips along the inside of her wrist. Alexis shivered at the touch, something blooming inside of her for a potent half-second before she pulled her wrist back.

"What really brought you here tonight, gorgeous?" Fenton pressed.

Alexis forced her expression to remain neutral. One part of her screamed to leave, to go home and quit the stupid charade. The other was desperate to know how he'd discovered her so fast. She met in the middle and stuck to the original plan.

"I'm looking for a dom," she said.

Fenton leaned closer, watching her like he wanted to have her for dessert. "You're looking at one. What can I do for you?"

She shook her head. "I don't want—"

Long fingers wrapped loosely around her wrist in an imitation of a much more intimate act. Her skin tingled where he touched her. His gaze was unyielding, those amber eyes looking like they could see through her act completely. Still, his expression was nothing but amused, and he licked his lips. Alexis felt her own mouth water as she watched that simple action.

"I didn't realize you were so selective," his voice was a low rumble.

The implied, or perhaps overt, insult shook away the sinful haze that was settling around her brain. She yanked her arm back, and was surprised when she met resistance. Fenton didn't move any closer, didn't take up any more of her personal space, but he also didn't allow her to retreat.

"A real sub looking for a real experience doesn't throw herself in front of a string of doms and then bail before any of them touch her." His fingers gripped her wrist just a little tigher. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to make his point clear. "I'll ask one more time: what are you doing in this club?"

She pursed her lips, a long history of defiance straightening her spine and steeling her resolve. "Why do you care?"

"Because I can already tell you're looking for trouble." He leaned closer, one hand still on her wrist and the other reaching out and gripping her chin. Alexis gulped at his heated, unrelenting gaze. "You've already found it once, but somehow I think you still haven't learned your lesson."

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

A feral grin tugged at his mouth and those honey eyes flashed with amusement. "The man who just saved you from your own mistakes—you never did thank me for that—and more important, I'm the man who can have you barred from this club."

Desperation hit her hard, and the words slipped out of her mouth before she could decide whether or not they were a smart thing to say. "If you ban me from this club, I'll go to the police. I'll tell them what I saw. What's the going rate for drug dealing and prostitution these days? Ten years in prison?"

Just like that, the feral animal surfaced. Fenton's eyes widened, then his lips drew back in a snarl. His body caged over hers, one arm on either side of her head, forcing her to lean back on the chaise to not touch him. "What proof do you have about any of that?"

His face was inches from hers, his body betraying a need to conquer and control this new threat. Still, she didn't back down. "My word counts for a lot with the NYPD—certainly enough for an inspection. I wonder what they'd find here if they did a drug bust?"

His nostrils flared, and she could see the tensile energy in the limbs that caged around her. He was just barely restraining himself.

"What do you want?" he spat

"I told you—"

"Don't fucking lie to me!" His chest heaved, his breath was hot on her face, and something about his tone pinged on her internal frequency, made her want to give in and become soft, to stop the charade.

"I'm not," she hissed. "I'm looking for a dom and—"

"Go find one somewhere else. There are other clubs."

She shook her head. "No. I'm staying here."

For half a moment, Alexis thought Fenton might touch her, how cruel his touch would be, she had no idea. Then, that beat passed, and Fenton retreated back at the ottoman, running his hands through his hair.

"Fine," he said, his voice clipped. "You can stay. But if you want a dom, it'll have to be me."

"What?"

"I obviously can't let you keep up this… whatever the hell it is you're doing here. You can stay here, but it'll be on my terms. You want a dom? You can have me. I'll teach you what I know and try to help you find whatever it is you're looking for. It's me or the door. End of discussion."

"Not end of discussion—" she interjected.

"Or," he continued, "you can walk out of here and go to the police, and when they can't find a single fucking piece of evidence to back up your claims, you'll be blacklisted."

"And what if they do find evidence?"

"You willing to bet on it?"

Alexis hesitated, and a smirk spread across Fenton's stupid handsome face. They both knew he'd won. "Unless, you're not interested?" he said smugly. "I'm serious about there being other clubs you can go to—"

She shook her head, her mind racing. If he was the man she was looking for, she'd just struck gold. If not, she was limiting herself to one man when she could be checking out many others. She sighed. "Fine," she said with a note of finality. "You can be my dom."

Hours later, when it was closer to sunrise than midnight, Fenton let himself into his apartment. He hung his jacket in the closet and proceeded to the kitchen to pour himself a drink.

Fenton savored the smooth Scotch that slid over his tongue and down his throat, drinking slowly because he would only allow himself the one glass.

The detective inside his mind, his own personal Jiminy Cricket, was up in arms over the night's events. He should have known that Alexis' presence at the club wasn't a coincidence and wouldn't be easy to gloss over. He should have known it'd put his assignment at stake.

He couldn't stop the night from replaying in his mind: Alexis in her sub clothes, her hair mussed, a bruise rising on her cheek, her large blue eyes alight in fear and anger. Kevin's kitten had claws, and she knew how to use them.

Seth, the Dom who had tried to teach her a lesson, sported a broken nose and, when Fenton had last seen him, was icing his family jewels. He'd definitely been worse off for his interaction with the redhead.

The passing out had been a surprise. At first Fenton wondered if she'd been faking it, but Kevin helpfully reminded him of a couple frantic calls he'd gotten from Javier Esposito, telling him that Alexis had passed out after being held at gunpoint in an alley on a case. She'd talked the gunman down and had kept him from hurting his hostage or herself, and when the danger had passed and the adrenaline had stopped pumping through her veins, she'd crumbled.

She was so sweet when she'd started coming back into consciousness. Fenton couldn't help but be charmed by the soft way she'd told him her name. It elicited a response that Fenton didn't think he was capable of, and Kevin's fond memories told him that, claws aside, this sweetness was very much a part of her personality.

Of course, that bit of knowledge did little to ease to bitterness in the detective's feelings for her, and it didn't change the fact that Alexis was a huge fucking liability.

She wasn't looking for a Dom, at least not one to play with. After sending her home, he'd followed up with Seth and Antonio, looking to get their side of the story. They weren't the only ones she'd pissed off. Though she looked like a wanton sub who couldn't be satisfied, she'd barely let any of them touch her. At least four other doms had her in their sights and were determined to teach her a lesson. Give her the firm hand she clearly needed, Antonio had said.

Fenton had shut that shit down fast, telling the men in no uncertain terms that she was his sub, and he'd be the one to decide how to deal with her defiance. Hopefully that'd be enough to keep her out of their way for a while. Fenton had better things to do than babysit than unruly sub. No, she wasn't a sub. She was a detective with just enough smarts to get herself in serious trouble.

He should have cut her loose; he shouldn't have gotten involved. But Kevin wouldn't allow that. Much as it made him sick with anger to even look at the redhead in her skimpy outfit, throwing herself at man after man, the idea of leaving her to the wolves was even worse.

Fenton tipped back the glass again, disappointed to see it empty, and the detective on his shoulder whispered that another glass wouldn't hurt. Instead, Fenton washed the glass and set it on the dish rack to dry. He replaced the scotch in the cupboard, and headed to his bedroom. It was four in the morning, but there was nothing better than exercise for working through frustration. He stripped off his suit, opting instead for some sweatpants and a t-shirt.

He started at the punching bag, letting his mind work as his body fell into a rhythm.

Antonio had been right. Alexis did need a firm hand, though Fenton's methods would undoubtedly be different. Whatever her goal, she was being reckless and stupid about achieving it. And it would be Fenton's responsibility to rein her in.

He would get her under control and out of his operation, for both their sakes.