Kaylin's Pursuit [The Black Iris Club 1] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) Read online

  The Black Iris Club 1

  Kaylin’s Pursuit

  Homicide Detective Kaylin Gallagher and her partner, Delaney Lord, are called to the parking garage of a skyscraper in downtown Fort Lauderdale on a muggy Sunday morning in July. The body of a young woman had been found in the Dumpster on the first level.

  With little evidence, they tour the premises of the private and very luxurious BDSM club in the penthouse called The Black Iris Club, looking for a crime scene. The club’s owner, handsome bachelor Jack Dalton Brown, has an iron-clad alibi, but Del Lord is still suspicious.

  Brown has his pick of women, but beautiful, slightly quirky Kaylin catches his eye. When the investigation goes nowhere, Jack Brown offers to let the detectives run an undercover operation in his club. With Kaylin as his sub they attempt to draw out the murderer while three more bodies have turned up. Jack and Kaylin’s relationship blooms but then hits some rocky ground. Can the Dom and the Detective get the bad guy and work out their problems?

  Genre: BDSM, Contemporary

  Length: 42,228 words

  KAYLIN'S PURSUIT

  The Black Iris Club 1

  Skye Michaels

  EVERLASTING CLASSIC

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Everlasting Classic

  KAYLIN'S PURSUIT

  Copyright © 2014 by Skye Michaels

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62741-641-2

  First E-book Publication: May 2014

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

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  DEDICATION

  For all of my family, friends, and readers.

  I hope you all enjoy this new series set in my own backyard, South Florida.

  Life happens. Enjoy the journey.

  With many thanks to my beta readers, Patricia Walker, Jennifer Torlone, Donnette Hawley, and Eileen Dix for all their help.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  KAYLIN’S PURSUIT

  The Black Iris Club 1

  SKYE MICHAELS

  Copyright © 2014

  Prologue

  Behind the Kitty Kat Klub on Federal Highway in Pompano Beach, Florida, Sunday morning, May 4, 2014, 3:15 a.m.

  He watched as the waitress wearing the short, tight black latex dress with the little white apron and “fuck me” pumps hobbled to her beat-up Toyota parked behind the club. Her feet had to be killing her. It was a long night, and all of it had been spent on her feet. He laughed. Yeah, they were definitely going to be killing her. Or he was.

  He had bought a couple of drinks from her and tipped her well. But when he asked her if she wanted to get breakfast after her shift was over she said no, she had to get home to her family. Too bad. She might have survived breakfast, but she wasn’t going to survive this.

  He stepped out from behind the Dumpster and bashed her head against the frame of the car door. He quickly pulled her behind the Dumpster, pushed her dress up to her waist, and pulled her black underwear down. He got down to business and finished in record time. Then he cracked her head against the pavement a couple of times for good measure. When he was sure she was no longer breathing, he picked her up and tossed her into the Dumpster. He brushed his hands off, zipped his trousers, and walked to his car. “Good-bye, Candy. Have a nice night.”

  Chapter One

  Kaylin Gallagher’s bungalow in the Rio Vista section of Fort Lauderdale, Florida, Sunday morning, July 6, 2014, 6:15 a.m.

  Kaylin Gallagher’s cell phone blasted out the chorus of “Bad Boys” on the table beside her antique brass bed. She could see through the sheer curtains over the French doors opening to her pool that it was just barely getting light. She swept her shoulder-length wavy, dark brown hair with auburn highlights off her face and rolled over. She reached for the annoying but necessary piece of equipment as she glanced at the screen. She saw it was her partner calling at this ungodly hour on a Sunday morning when they weren’t even supposed to be on duty. Well what had she expected? A peaceful Sunday morning in bed? She’d had a fun Saturday night barhopping by boat on the Intracoastal Waterway with a group of friends. She had had a fair—or maybe more—amount to drink, and her head was pounding just a bit. Not a full-blown hangover, but she knew she wasn’t in top form. Margaritas and tequila shots—too much of a good thing. She silenced the annoying ring tone by answering. “You freaking have to be kidding me, Lord. We’re off.”

  “The Sergeant called me a couple min
utes ago and asked that we take this one. It might turn out to be high profile. The uniforms have already secured and taped off the crime scene.”

  “What’s up?” She started to roll out of bed with the phone pressed to her ear as she reached for a light cotton robe and headed toward the kitchen to fire up her Keurig coffeemaker. A cup of dark roast would not go unappreciated right now. In fact, it might just be a lifesaving necessity. Six effin’ fifteen on a Sunday morning when she was not on duty. Hell’s bells. She definitely didn’t have the luck of the Irish that she was entitled to by birth, or at least by ancestry.

  “DB in a Dumpster in the parking garage at the JDB Building at Broward and Federal Highway—you know, that big white building on the corner. Caucasian female, midtwenties. Some homeless guys Dumpster diving found her and flagged down a BSO unit. They were pretty upset—I think more at having their treasure hunting interrupted than at finding a dead woman in the trash.”

  “Now, do you actually know that’s true, Lord, or are you just projecting?” Kaylin was waiting patiently for the last drops of coffee to drip into her big pottery mug decorated with overblown pink roses.

  “Let’s just say I’m speaking from experience. The uniforms got a preliminary statement and then took them to the BSO office on Broward for breakfast so we can question to them later.” She could hear the annoyance in his voice. Delaney Lord had a fair amount of contempt for the chronic homeless that tended to hang around the streets in downtown Fort Lauderdale instead of at the shelter. Kay had a little more compassion for them, but not much patience either.

  “Why does the Sergeant think this will be high profile?”

  “Building’s privately owned by Jack Dalton Brown. That’s enough to make it high profile, but that private club of his in the penthouse ups the profile rating into the stratosphere.”

  “There’s a private club downtown, and I don’t know about it? How can this be? If I don’t know about it, certainly one of the girls would.”

  “That I cannot answer, Gallagher. I’ll pick you up in thirty.” He hung up.

  Kaylin reached for the coffee cup and took a sip. Mmmmm, heaven. Uggggg, better get moving. She walked out the back door to the pool, dropped her robe on the coping, and dove in. Yikes, the only way to wake up. Even in July, the water was cool, but by midafternoon it would be like jumping into a pot of soup. She swam ten laps to get her blood moving and walked up the sloped area that was supposed to replicate a beach—she really didn’t get that. The pool had been there when she’d bought the bungalow in what passed for one of Fort Lauderdale’s few historic areas. Kaylin stood on the Spanish tile patio and reached for a fluffy white towel in the straw basket beside the pool. She glanced at the big Invicta Pro Diver watch on her left wrist that had belonged to her brother. Danny had been killed in Afghanistan, and she missed him every day. She grimaced. Six thirty. Better get moving or Del would walk in and find her standing here dripping wet and naked. Not a good idea. That just might be TMI for her partner. She grinned. They danced around each other, but had never done the deed. That really wasn’t a good idea for partners. The fallout and hurt feelings later when it inevitably didn’t work out could destroy a good working partnership.

  Kaylin walked back into her bedroom, stepped into the open shower that overlooked her overgrown butterfly garden, and turned the water on full blast. The waterfall showerhead and the view of the butterfly garden enclosed by sliding glass doors were two of her favorite things about this house. It felt like showering in the open in the jungle or something. The gay couple who had renovated the house had turned one of the small bedrooms into a huge walk-in closet and a big master bath. She really didn’t have time for these ruminations this morning.

  Just as she thought. She heard Del coming in the front door. “Make yourself a cup of coffee, and there are bagels in the bread box. I’ll be right out.” She knew he’d make himself at home in her kitchen. He had been doing it for two years. She had to admit Delaney Lord was delicious, with the mess of curly, streaked blond hair that he tried to keep tamed down while on duty and his chocolate brown bedroom eyes. He had a sleek but muscular swimmer’s body. Judging by the early call, he had not had time for his customary morning habit of surfing off Fort Lauderdale beach if there was even a suggestion of waves big enough to bother with. If not, he usually swam a couple of miles every morning. He also biked and ran as training for the triathlons he loved.

  She quickly stepped into a pair of white cotton slacks, a sleeveless white blouse, and low-heeled shoes. She grabbed a lightweight, navy blue Ralph Lauren linen blazer just in case she needed it, clipped her badge to her waistband, slipped her nine mil Glock into the holster she wore in the small of her back, and grabbed up her cross body leather handbag. It was going to be hot today. This was Fort Lauderdale in the summer. She knew that the suggestion of a cool breeze this morning would totally disappear by noon and then turn into the reality of a blasting hot breeze by afternoon—and then the skies would open in torrential rain. Del had said the crime scene was in the undercover parking garage of the JDB Building. At least it was protected.

  “Morning. I’m ready.”

  * * * *

  When they pulled up behind the JDB Building, one of the city’s skyline makers, Del sighed as Kaylin hopped out before his dark green Jeep had rolled to a stop. She had less patience than anyone he knew, but more naturally good instincts as well. She could read people, and she missed very little. Kaylin left her handbag and the navy blue blazer on the seat. Her dark brown, wavy hair was still damp, and the suggestion of cinnamon freckles across her nose and cheeks stood out against the fair Irish skin she was always trying to tan. She never had much luck with that.

  They checked in with the uniforms who were guarding the scene while waiting for the Broward County Crime Scene Unit and Medical Examiner to arrive. A small gathering of people stood outside the crime scene tape—a uniformed security guard, a tall, dark-haired man wearing jeans and an untucked white dress shirt, who had a natural air of command about him, a beautiful blonde woman wearing a cocktail dress and heels, and a few of the curious who always managed to gather around a crime scene. How had they gotten wind of this so quickly?

  Del approached the crime scene tape and ducked under. He held it up for Kaylin, and she followed him over to the Dumpster. They both glanced in, being careful not to touch anything. The concrete floor of the parking garage was clean so there was no possibility of footprints to disturb. Del saw Kaylin gasp and pull back just slightly before she got control of her facial expression and body language. She looked again, and he knew she was taking in all the details. He thought the victim bore a slight resemblance to Kaylin. They seemed to be similar in coloring and build, but the victim was younger.

  The woman’s short, tight dress was hiked up around her upper thighs, and she wore only one bright-red high-heeled shoe. Blood had flowed out of the wound that was visible on the side of her head and was now matted in her long, brown hair that was mixed with the trash in the Dumpster. He couldn’t be sure, would need to hear it from the ME, but it looked like her head had been slammed against something hard.

  “Jimmy Choo shoes,” Kaylin said. “The dress is pricey, too. I don’t know the designer offhand, but it’s not off the rack from Walmart.” Kaylin snapped some quick shots with her cell phone. The CSI guys would fully document the scene when they got there, but she wanted to have some pictures of her own, especially of the Jimmy Choos, the dress, and facial shots for identification as well.

  One of the Broward County Sheriff’s Department uniformed officers approached them. “That guy in the white shirt is the owner of the building, Jack Dalton Brown. The guy with him is the security guard who was on duty in the building last night. I told them you’d want to speak with them.”

  “Thanks, Johnson. We’ll see what they have to say.” Del was wondering how long the building’s very high-profile owner had been standing around the crime scene and if he had gotten a close-up view of the contents
of the Dumpster. Brown, eligible and good-looking, was one of the movers and shakers in the small South Florida city, and was frequently seen on the pages of the local newspapers and glossy lifestyle magazines. He was a Fort Lauderdale native, a rare breed in itself, and very well known around town. Del had to laugh. Did that make him a Florida cracker in this town of transplants and transients? Del didn’t think so. He came from old money. Del had to admit that Brown really didn’t seem to seek the spotlight. It seemed to seek him. Del and Kaylin walked over to the crime scene tape.

  “Good morning, Mr. Brown. Detectives Delaney Lord and Kaylin Gallagher, BSO. Can you tell us anything about this?”

  “The officers were already here and had everything taped off before I got downstairs. Mr. Smith from the building’s security detail phoned me when he saw the cruiser pull into the garage and start taping off the scene. Unfortunately, he didn’t see what happened before that.” Jack Dalton Brown looked none too happy about that fact, and Smith looked nervous.

  Kaylin stepped up with her cell phone in her hand. “Can I show you a picture, Mr. Brown? It’s not pleasant, but if you can identify the victim, we would be miles ahead in our inquiries.”

  “Sure. Let me see.” He gasped and had to steady himself a moment before he continued. “That’s Lucy Evans. She works in the building’s leasing office as a receptionist.”

  “Do you know what she was doing here last night?”