Page 17 of To Catch a Sub

“There are residential facilities in the club,” Anu said. “You’ll be staying there, and I assume also working at the club when it’s open.”

Anu finally looked at Landon, holding his gaze. There was no mercy in his boss’s eyes.

“Agent Malik is one of our leads on the Club Alibi initiative. He’s one of the Doms in residence.”

Colette sucked in air, going perfectly still.

Anu studied Colette before speaking. “He’ll be your case manager. If you want our protection, you’ll do what he says.”

Feeling like he were moving in slow motion, Landon looked at Colette. Just as slowly she turned to look at him. Her eyes were wide with shock and maybe…something else?

Then she dropped her gaze submissively to her hands, and it took everything Landon had to hold still.

The idea of Colette as a submissive wasn’t new. It featured heavily in his fantasies in fact. But jerking off while imagining her kneeling and needy was very different than the reality of trying to get the least submissive woman he’d ever met to act like a proper submissive in a club full of people who would know if it was a lie.

But the way she’d lowered her gaze…

No. It wasn’t sign of submission, she was just processing, or thinking. Probably scheming.

“Agent Malik, I understand you’re the expert on this particular issue, so I want to check with you: do you foresee any problems in taking Ms. Beaumont to Club Alibi and having her work there as one of the submissives?”

Yes, a thousand problems.

“No,” he ground out.

“Good. Then I suggest you make arrangements to travel to London.” Anu rose, pinning Landon with her gaze. “And, Agent Malik? Get me that information.” Her attention shifted meaningfully to Colette.

Landon watched his boss walk out of the room.

He was about to take his nemesis, the one criminal he’d never been able to catch, into protective custody.

At a BDSM club.

As a submissive.

And in order to keep her safe, he was going to have to become her Master.

* * *

Colette slipped out of the NCA offices once Landon, who’d been waiting for her outside the restroom, was distracted.

She should probably feel bad for leaving, but she needed a minute to herself. As he’d escorted her to the toilet—silently while practically radiating anger—Colette had tucked a card into his pocket with her primary mobile number on it. It might take him a minute to find the card, but he would eventually.

That would be a fun conversation. Assuming he actually spoke to her when he called.

He hadn’t said a word to her once they left the meeting room, and that had contributed to her need to sneak away for a few hours to gather her thoughts.

She shook her head as she walked along the brick-paved roads of Manchester. She got what she needed, but the specifics of it were wildly different than she’d imagined.

An Interpol-owned BDSM club.

Huh.

Colette was hard to surprise, but that had done it. She should probably be more worried about going into protective custody at a fetish club, but right now all she felt was relief.

Interpol would investigate Damien, arrest him and everyone he knew, and while they were doing that, she’d be safe. Once Damien was in custody, she’d resume her normal life.

And hopefully never see Landon Malik again.