Page 100 of To Catch a Sub

She jerked as if he’d struck her. “My safety. Of course, it’s your job to protect me, and you always do your job.”

Still holding the pillow against her front, she marched towards the connecting door. This time Landon didn’t grab her, but he did follow her into her room. She snatched up her discarded pajamas, but to his surprise marched to the other door, slamming it open and stalking out into the hall.

He followed her, stopping short when she dropped the pillow and disappeared into the bathroom.

Further down the hall, several people including Andrei were standing outside a playroom. They were all turned to watch this little drama unfold.

What else did he do to her?

He felt sick with fear for her, and nearly blind with rage aimed towards the man who’d hurt her. Landon rolled his shoulders and shook out his arms as if he could shed some of the emotion roiling through him.

Colette was whip-smart, capable, and clever. She could out think most people, including him and every other LEO he’d talked to when trying to build a case to arrest her over the years. She always had a back-up plan, an explanation, a way out of any situation.

Something had gone badly wrong for her to end up captive and helpless. So wrong that she’d come running to him for help and safety. He hadn’t forgotten what she’d said—that sleeping in a room beside his was the safest she’d felt.

He’d assumed, hell Interpol had assumed, that she’d stolen something, almost gotten caught—or at least was identified as the thief—and the people she’d stolen from were coming after her either to get back the item or to make an example of her that they weren’t to be fucked with.

She’d never tried to hide the fact that she was using Interpol to solve her problem. Fuck, she’d even come with a massive diamond bribe in order to get him to dance to her tune.

It hadn’t occurred to him that there was a more visceral and personal element to her need for protection.

The bathroom door jerked open, breaking him out of his dark, spiraling thoughts.

“Since you’re so worried about doing your job, tell me, Landon—” Something glinted in Colette’s hand, catching the light from the bathroom as she raised her arm. “—was this part of your job?”

She threw the butt plug at his head.

Landon ducked, then whipped around to look at the dent it had made in the wall.

“Did you just throw a butt plug at me?”

A bark of laughter sounded from down the hall, but Landon ignored their audience.

“Oui.” Colette smiled sweetly. “Parce que tu es un fils de pute.”

That he understood. Yes, because you’re a son of a bitch.

“Tonight, this scene, has nothing to do with my job.”

“Really? You spanked me, plugged my ass, made sure I was deep in my submission, and then questioned me.”

“The fact that you’re still withholding information is fucking stupid. Especially if this Damien guy made it personal.” He stepped close. “And it is personal for him, isn’t it? He’s not just pissed you stole something, he wants to…hurt you.”

She smiled, but her eyes were haunted. “He wants to do more than just hurt me.”

The words were like a punch to the gut, even though it wasn’t unexpected.

“Then answer my fucking questions. Let me protect you.”

“Ah yes, protecting me. Your job. How noble of you to go so far as to be my Dom so you could get information out of me…in order to protect me.”

“That wasn’t…”

Except that was exactly what he’d done, and it hadn’t occurred to him how fucked up it was. There was supposed to be a clear line between their interactions as protected witness and agent, and their Dom/sub scene.

But that line was blurry for him, and he’d just made it worse.

“I shouldn’t have—” Landon started, but Colette held up a hand, cutting him off.