Resisting Double Trouble (North Bay Pursuits Book 8)

by Kenzi Bond

  RESISTING DOUBLE TROUBLE

  North Bay Pursuits: Book Eight

  Kenzi Bond

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  1. Malcolm

  2. Beau

  3. Drake

  4. Drake

  5. Beau & Dean Seventeen

  6. Malcolm

  7. Dean

  8. Beau & Dean Eighteen

  9. Beau

  10. Beau & Dean Nineteen

  11. Drake

  12. Dean

  13. Malcolm

  14. Beau

  15. Beau

  16. Dean

  17. Beau & Dean Twenty

  18. Drake

  19. Dean

  20. Malcolm

  21. Twenty-one at last!

  22. Drake

  23. Malcolm

  24. Dean

  25. Malcolm

  26. Dean

  27. Malcolm

  28. Drake

  29. Beau

  30. Dean

  31. Beau

  32. Malcolm

  33. Drake

  Epilogue

  More from Kenzi Bond

  Finding Steele

  Catching Butterflies

  Hunting Hawke

  Discovering Dragons

  Tempting Phoenix

  Obeying Archer

  Releasing Death

  Band of the Goddess

  Kinky Santa

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  To all my NBP readers who have been asking for the twins!

  Thank you so much.

  And to Karen, an amazing woman who shouldn’t ever have her name used in a negative way.

  Resisting Double Trouble Copyright © 2020 by Kenzi Bond. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning

  This book contains material that is intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations.

  1

  Malcolm

  Standing shoulder to shoulder with his brother, Malcolm Tallon looked down from their window overlooking the nightclub. Together, they monitored the crowd below through the one-way glass, keeping an eye out for trouble. Malcolm’s keen eyes ran over the throng of bodies on the dance floor and toward the back of the club where he could just make out the shapes of men taking advantage of the dim lighting. Wearily, he ran a hand over his face. Was it time to sell? Should they gut the club and start again? Maybe he was just getting old, but the scenes playing out on the floor below only bored him. He owned three clubs in total with his brother. Severus was exclusive and catered to the BDSM clientele. It was hugely successful, and membership was highly coveted by the community. In the five years it had been open, they’d never had any trouble. Their first club, Club Neon, was popular with the younger party crowd. The patrons leaned toward the LGBT community, who wanted to dance and have fun in a safe environment. No worries there, either. The venue’s reputation was solid. But Beat Boys was barely breaking even. It attracted the rough, undesirable crowd looking for a quick score. The type of clientele that caused them the most stress. He closed his eyes in contemplation.

  “Is it just me, or has this place become a cesspool of humanity?” Malcolm asked his brother.

  He grunted as Drake slapped him hard on the shoulder and laughed. Unlike Malcolm, Drake was the more carefree of the two. He often joked that it was because Malcolm was a year older and suffered from “older brother syndrome.”

  “This place has always been a bit of a cesspool,” he responded with a shrug. His slightly darker brown eyes glanced at Malcolm. “We could sell up and find something new,” Drake said. He tilted his head in thought. “On the other hand, we are the owners, so if we don’t like the clientele, let’s set higher standards. You know I’ll go along with whatever you decide.” Frowning as something caught his eye, Drake grabbed the walkie-talkie attached to his hip. “Ronny, drug deal in section three.” He paused. “Yeah, that’s him, blue hoodie. Depending on what he’s selling, kick him out or call the cops.” Drake watched as the efficient security guard removed the man with minimal fuss. “It drives me insane that they think they can come in here and sell that shit.”

  Malcolm knew Drake was waiting for a response, but his gaze had been caught by a disturbance near the main bar. His muscles tensed as he leaned toward the glass to get a better look. “What the hell?” he growled. “Drake, please tell me the twins didn’t just walk into our club.”

  “Twins? What twins?” Drake asked as he looked in the direction Malcolm was staring.

  Malcolm could tell when Drake spotted them by his indrawn breath. “Oh god, please tell me Beau-Dean didn’t just enter our club. How the hell did they even get in? They’re underage!”

  The twins walked toward a man hunched over the bar with his head in his hands. It was a perfect storm—a crowded room of horny, drunk men and the hottest property to hit the news. Malcolm had avoided reading the various stories regarding the twins, but you had to be deaf and blind not to hear the gossip and speculation. Reportedly, the twins had been rescued from a sex cult or something. Sexy twins who would fulfill your every fantasy. They were infamous. As news of their presence spread among the patrons, the crowd turned toward the boys and moved as if they were being pulled into the twins’ orbit.

  “Fuck, if we don’t get them out of here fast, we’re going to have a riot on our hands.” As he started down the stairs, he was happy to see Ronny had noticed the problem too and was making her way toward the bar with additional security. Forming a wall between the twins and the rest of the club, they looked to Malcolm for orders when he reached them.

  “Keep everyone back,” Malcolm instructed as he gave a warning look at the leering men trying to push past. “Back the fuck up!” At first, he thought they would ignore him, but one by one, they took a step back.

  Knowing Ronny would keep watch, he turned and got his first look at the twins he had heard so much about. There was no getting around the fact that the boys were beautiful. Their silky black hair was tucked behind their ears so their delicate, elfin features could be seen. Malcolm felt his gut clench as he took in their exquisite appearance. Golden eyeshadow and black eyeliner had been used to enhance their large, dark eyes, giving them an exotic look. His eyes fell to their full lips that had a slight sheen of pale lip gloss. Holy hell, these boys were trouble. He wanted to run his fingers over the unblemished olive skin to see if it was as smooth as it looked. An overwhelming feeling of disgust rose from the depths as he remembered how old the boys were.

  “Hey, Beau-Dean, suck my cock and show us what you can do,” an obnoxious voice yelled from the crowd.

  Malcolm flicked his eyes at the nearest guard. “Throw ‘em out,” he demanded. The guard nodded before swiftly locating the culprit.

  The twins hadn’t acknowledged the man who had called out, or anyone for that matter. Their whole focus was on the man at the bar. One of the twins leaned forward and spoke in a soft voice that Malcolm struggled to hear.

  “Joel, put the drink down. It’s time to go”.” When the man named Joel ignored him, the twin
reached over and took the glass of alcohol from his hand and handed it over to the bartender. “I’m not kidding, Joel. If you don’t get up, we plan to stay here till you do.” His voice was surprisingly firm.

  The twins were identical, but already, Malcolm noticed slight differences. The one who was speaking seemed to be more assertive than the other, who was happy following his brother’s lead. Malcolm wondered if Drake’s theory held true and the assertive twin was the older one.

  The other brother stepped forward and spoke, his voice gentler than his brother’s but no less imploring. “Please, Joel, don’t do this. The limo’s outside. Let’s go. Everything will be alright, you’ll see.”

  The crowd surged forward, shoving his security team. Malcolm didn’t care what Joel’s response would be. He had to get the twins out of the club. “How the hell did you two get in here?”

  Both boys turned toward him, their large, dark eyes widening as they stared first at him, then Drake. As one, they stepped forward, walking with a soft sway of their hips. Everything about the boys’ moves was sensual. He felt unwanted lust heat his body but pushed it down. There was no way he was going to let them know they had any power in the room. He had a feeling they would enjoy toying with him and spitting him out. Angry with himself for even noticing how they walked, he glared at them.

  “We apologize. We wanted to bring our friend home. As to how we got inside, we made an offer to the bouncer at the door that he couldn’t refuse. He let us in and left.” They both shrugged as if that answered everything.

  Rage clouded Malcolm’s mind. He was furious that one of his workers had let the boys in, but he was even more enraged by the thought of what the boys could have offered him in exchange.

  Drake spoke before he could vent his fury. “What did you offer him? What’s so valuable that he put this club and us in danger?”

  The quieter boy spoke up. “We promised him an introduction to Greg Hawke, co-owner of Hawkeye Security. Apparently, he thinks he would make a good bodyguard.” He smirked at his brother, sharing a joke as the other gave a wicked smirk back.

  “And do you plan to make this introduction?” Malcolm asked curiously.

  Looking smug, the more confident of the two laughed.

  The fine hair on Malcolm’s arms stood up at the musical sound. Crossing his arms, he squared his shoulders.

  “Yes. We always keep our word. Everybody knows that. But he won’t get the job. Do you want to know why?” the boy asked, moistening his bottom lip with his tongue.

  Malcolm forced his eyes away from that tempting mouth. He was barely keeping it together. Their beautiful laugh was still echoing in his mind. Even with the men behind him calling out obscene suggestions, he had to ask. “Why?”

  “Because he let two underaged boys into a dingy club, no offense.” He shrugged one slim shoulder. “And he walked away from his responsibility. He knows who we are, and yet he didn’t hesitate to make a deal with us. That makes him a weak fool who takes bribes for his own benefit.” He stepped closer to Malcolm. “We just want to collect our friend Joel, and we’ll leave.” He held out his hand. “I’m Beau, by the way, and this is my brother, Dean.”

  Malcolm wanted to take the small, delicate hand in his but held himself back. He was not going to encourage them to stay longer. “I didn’t ask for names, and I don’t care. The only thing I do care about is you leaving before the paparazzi or cops arrive.” Not that it would matter. He could tell by the bright lights that people were recording them on their phones. He turned to Joel, who was slumped on the bar like he’d passed out or fallen asleep. “Hey, you. You’re cut off. Get up and don’t come back.” The guy didn’t move. Grabbing Joel by the arms, he roughly dragged him off the seat. Drake moved forward and grabbed Joel from the other side. The guy was so plastered, he couldn’t even stand.

  “Where are we taking him?”

  “Our limo’s outside.”

  “Sure, you have a limo. What teenager doesn’t? Lead the way,” Malcolm said.

  He told himself not to look, but his gaze was drawn to the sway of the boys’ hips. He cringed with the shame and looked away. Damn it. This had to stop. He tried to recall how old the boys were but couldn’t think.

  The drunk raised his head and caught him staring. “Don’t you fucking think about it, asshole,” he slurred. “You make one move, and I’ll break your fucking nose. I don’t care who you are, I will make you suffer. Get your fucking eyes off my friends.” Joel tried to stand on his own and stumbled over his own feet before Malcolm and Drake caught him.

  Malcolm bristled at the warning, but he couldn’t fault the man for trying to protect his friends. “If you hadn’t come here and gotten totally shitfaced, then they wouldn’t have been here in the first place. If anyone has caused them to be in danger, it’s you.” He took satisfaction with the look of shame that spread across Joel’s face.

  “Yeah, well, I won’t be back. This place is only good for bad decisions, bad sex, and cheap drugs, and I’m done with all of it.”

  Those words hit home—they had obviously neglected this club, and it was way past time to shake shit up. He looked at his brother and saw that Drake had reached the same conclusion. They made it outside where there was, in fact, a black limo waiting with a driver holding the door open.

  Malcolm was stunned to see the twins waiting for them in the perfect submissive form, with their heads lowered, legs shoulder-width apart, and hands behind their back. He had seen a similar display on subs at Severus. Malcolm and Drake weren’t into the BDSM scene anymore, but they recognized the pose.

  “Thank you, Masters. Is there any way that we can repay your kindness?”

  From the earlier introduction, Malcolm knew it was Beau, the more confident twin, who had spoken. “Heads up. Look at me,” he ordered.

  Both boys instantly obeyed.

  “Did we give you permission to address us by that term? I don’t think we did. You know what I think?” He waited until he had their full attention. “I think you’re both spoiled brats who get whatever they want. I don’t appreciate you coming into my establishment, throwing your weight around. I don’t appreciate you presenting yourself to perfect strangers. Get in the damn limo like good little boys and go home.”

  Drake grabbed his arm in a firm grip. “I think they get the message,” he said.

  Dean threw Drake a grateful look and reached for his brother’s hand while Beau stared defiantly at Malcolm with fire in his eyes. Unwelcome lust caused Malcolm’s dick to harden. He would love to experience such raw fire like that, but it wasn’t going to happen, and not with some damn kid. That didn’t stop him from taunting Beau. “Do we understand each other?”

  Just when he thought Beau was going to lose his temper, a smiled transformed his face. “Yes, um…I’m not sure what to call you since you don’t appreciate the word Master and won’t give us your names. Maybe next time?”

  Malcolm was struck mute by the boy’s audacity. Luckily, Drake spoke up.

  “There won’t be a next time.”

  As they walked away, Malcolm could swear that Beau whispered, “Don’t count on it.”

  2

  Beau

  B

  eau lay on his bed, thinking about the men they had met the previous night. His body heated with the memory of the way they were both so commanding and in control. Just the thought caused an all-over shiver. When the older of the two told him there wouldn’t be the next time, Beau felt a rebellious urge to prove him wrong.

  In tune with his brother, Dean reached for his hand. “They didn’t like us kneeling. Did we do it wrong?”

  Beau pictured the reactions of the man. They didn’t seem to approve of the twins kneeling at all; in fact, they looked angry.

  “It wasn’t our training that was the problem. I hated that they were displeased with us. The disappointment on their faces made kneeling feel wrong. I don’t know why they were upset with us. Maybe it was because people were watching, or maybe they didn�
��t want us.”

  That was the hardest thing to think about. Beau wanted—no he needed—to be wanted and to give over control. No decisions to be made, no responsibility, just tell him what to do and he would do it. Yet the men had acted as if they were displeased with them and their actions.

  As far as Beau could tell, they were honorable men. They had helped the twins get Joel out of the club, they had protected them from the crowd, and they had not taken advantage of them.

  He admitted that he was fascinated by the older man. He had challenged Beau just by his words and actions. They acted like Dom’s, as far as he imagined a Dom would be like: forceful, powerful, controlled. It felt natural to kneel for them, but Dean was right—they had not been pleased with their perfect poise. The only way they could find out what they had done wrong was to see the men again and ask them.

  “I wished we knew their names. Let’s go back and see if we can find them,” he suggested.

  “One of the men said it was their ‘establishment.’ That means they must be the owners. I don’t want them upset with us, so we shouldn’t try sneak in again, but we could ask one of the security guards for information.”