Page 81 of To Catch a Sub

Landon wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. Her arms squeezed him, and he was aware of her naked breasts pressed to his chest, only the thin cotton of his shirt between their bodies. But wasn’t sexual, or wasn’t only sexual. The nakedness highlighted how soft and vulnerable she was. How small in his arms when her personality so often made her seem ten feet tall.

“Who did this to you?” This time it was a soft query.

“Did Interpol arrest them?” She tipped her head up. “The information I gave, was it enough to arrest them?”

So that was who’d cut her. The fact that she’d been up close and personal with criminals who viewed human beings as commodities left a bitter fear taste in his mouth.

“Them being the Russian organized crime group?” he clarified.

“Yes.”

He wished to God he could say yes.

“Not yet.”

Fear sparked in Colette’s eyes and she jerked out of his arms, backing up. She turned to her suitcase, which was open on the small desk, and grabbed a long shirt, pulling it on.

“Your information checked out,” he said. “They told me that much this morning. But the lead investigator wants more information.”

Colette reached up under the hem of the shirt which reached the top of her thighs, and tugged down the yellow club sub panties. “I told them everything I know.”

“Clearly you didn’t, because you never mentioned the confrontation or fight that ended with you cut up.”

“Because it wouldn’t help Interpol find or arrest them.”

“You don’t know that.”

She tossed first the yellow panties, and then a black thong, to the side. He stared at the fallen underwear for too long, then looked back at her, waiting for her to take the final step and undo the collar.

Colette faced him one more, her arms crossed under her breasts.

She didn’t touch the collar.

“If my information is good, why haven’t they been arrested yet?”

“Because your information is good. The lead investigator wants to take out the whole network.”

She shook her head, hair lashing her cheeks. “You have to arrest him—” Colette cut herself off.

“Him who?” A white-hot rage sparked and crackled to life in Landon. “Who took a knife to you, Colette?”

Her shoulders slumped and she sank down on the edge of the bed. “Damien.”

Landon joined her, one knee pulled up on the mattress so he could face her. “Last name?”

“I don’t know, but if Interpol checked my information, they have it. Though maybe Damien is an alias. It’s what he called himself.”

“What happened?” Landon kept his voice calm and soothing, not wanting to upset this confessional.

“He decided I should…stay with him. When I said no, he objected.” She motioned vaguely to her side.

Landon shook his head. “Decided you should stay with him? Come on, Colette. I need actual information.”

“Fine.” Her eyes flashed with fire when she looked over. “Here’s information. Damien is looking for me. I tried to hide, to evade him, but he has too many resources, and too many people. I need him locked up, which is why I came to you.”

“Is he looking for you, or whatever you stole from him?”

She flinched as if he’d struck her, and Landon felt like an ass, though the question was valid.