Secrets in Sanctuary [Sanctuary, Montana 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Zara Chase

“I was taught from the cradle that the McLeans diverted our water, killed our cattle…shit, I’ve even heard that the bad blood dates back to the Civil War when the families were on different sides. The McLeans stole gold donated to the Confederate cause…blah de blah.”

  “We were brought up with similar stories painting you guys as the baddies,” Farah replied, shrugging. “We both know it’s ridiculous, and I can understand why you want to do something about it now. It’s crazy now you’re involved with Will and Josh but can’t enter their family home. The only good thing is that it doesn’t affect our friendship.”

  “But it does. I couldn’t come and see how my best friend was doing after she got shot. How do you think that made me feel?”

  “Okay, I hear you.” Farah frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

  “I thought you’d be cynical.”

  “Cynical?” Farah nodded. “Yep, that about sums up my reaction. Sorry, babe.”

  “Hear her out, Far,” Aubrey said quietly.

  “Okay, I’m all ears. Presumably your friend…what’s her name?”

  “Jocelyn Richards.”

  “So Jocelyn’s down here poking around in our murky family histories. What shook loose? Did she find anything?”

  “Er, my brother and cousin,” Tatum admitted with a broad grin. “Matt and Eric are very cozy with Jocelyn. Not that I blame them. She’s a nice lady and very attractive, too. She’s good for them.”

  “Not another threesome.” Farah couldn’t help laughing. “Definitely something in the water.”

  “Actually, she searched through some old diaries and found out some interesting stuff that made it seem like six of one and half a dozen of the other.” Tatum shrugged. “You know how feuds can start over absolutely nothing.”

  “Do I ever!”

  “Right, well, we were on the way to persuading your parents and mine that it was time to bury the hatchet. Then Jocelyn got up close and personal with Matt and Eric and your family accused her of being biased. Then Jocelyn made matters worse by saying that actually, if she had to castigate blame, she’d place it at the Baldwins’ door.”

  “Oh my!” Farah covered her mouth with her hand. “That can’t have helped much. There are times when it’s better to say nothing.”

  “Right.” Tatum grimaced. “Then the guys and I stupidly found that gold—”

  “I won’t ask what you were doing in the shack that literally made the earth move and revealed the stash.”

  Tatum laughed. “Probably better not to.”

  “She says it was a storm,” Aubrey remarked, rolling her eyes.

  “Yeah, right. But now matters are worse than they ever were.” Farah sighed. “Our families are soooo damned stubborn. I think their feelings are way too deeply entrenched for anything to ever change, no matter what skeletons your friend unearthed. If you ask me, the gold’s just a useful excuse to maintain the status quo. Saves both sides having to admit they’ve behaved liked jerks for all these years.”

  “Agreed. I thought my father would have another heart attack when he confronted me about being with Josh and Will.”

  “It must have been hard, having to tell him that. I’m not sure I’d find the courage.”

  “Love conquers all,” Aubrey said, looking serious.

  “Dad’s out of the hospital now and resting at home.” Tatum swallowed. “The men and I are going to tell him that he has to either accept us or live without me in his life. I pray that he can, accept us, that is. He still has the cancer surgery coming up, so you can see how much ending this feud means to me. And to Aubrey.”

  Farah touched her hand. “I can understand that.”

  “So what can we do?” Aubrey asked. “I think your respective brothers would be willing to forgive and forget but the parents never will.”

  “I don’t know.” Farah sighed. “But I agree things can’t go on the way they are. I mean, what if Tatum was to get pregnant?”

  “Perhaps that would shake them out of their stubborn refusal to be reasonable,” Aubrey said, sounding like she was trying to convince herself.

  “I’m not ready for motherhood yet,” Tatum said. “Especially if I get pregnant for the wrong reasons, like trying to unite warring factions that don’t want to be united.”

  “Exactly.” Farah took a deep breath and gathered up her purse. “I’ll give it some thought and see if I can come up with a cunning master plan. In the meantime, let’s go have some fun.”

  Chapter Three

  Tatum helped Farah down from the car, and she approached the club with her arms linked through those of her best friends. It was almost like old times. Except that both of her friends were now in serious relationships. She wasn’t, and so things could never be quite the same again.

  Farah found herself in an elegant barroom. The bar itself was long with dark, polished wood, and brass trim. The lighting was dim in one half and brighter on the other side, providing enough light for patrons to play darts or shoot pool.

  “It’s just like an ordinary bar,” Farah said, her gaze wandering over the sedate, comfortable room.

  “What did you expect?” Tatum replied. “Naked men pursuing chained women with whips and vibrators?”

  “Well—”

  “That’s on the other side of the curtain,” Aubrey said, laughing as she nodded to people she obviously knew. Farah recognized one or two faces as well, but her disguise did its job and they didn’t seem to realize who she was. “It’s busy already tonight.”

  “People can just hang out here and not go any farther,” Tatum explained. “Is that what you want to do, hon?”

  “Hell, no!” Farah grinned. “I want to know what really goes down.” She nodded toward people lounging on overstuffed couches and leather chairs. “Is that what they’re doing? Just hanging out, I mean? They look like they’re waiting for something.”

  “Aren’t we all,” said a male voice behind them.

  “Hey, Aaron.” Aubrey stood on her toes and kissed the cheek of the man who had spoken.

  “You won’t hear me complaining about that.” He turned to Tatum. “How are you, sweetheart?”

  “Good thanks, Aaron. Er, this is our friend, Farah.”

  Aaron shook Farah’s hand, sizing her up as he did so. “Ah, the famous detective. Welcome.”

  Farah elevated her brows. “You know who I am?”

  Aaron chuckled. “This is a small town. Besides, I know all your brothers well. They sure are proud of you, but I gather from the disguise that you don’t want them to know you’re here.”

  Farah winced. “That would probably save me a lot of grief. They tend to have double standards.”

  He laughed. “Tell me about it.” Someone called to him. He glanced over to where some sort of dispute was going on, and winced. “Excuse me, my mediation skills are required. You all have fun tonight.”

  “He seems nice,” Farah said. “Is he single?”

  “Yes,” Aubrey replied. “Are you interested? I think he liked you.”

  “No.” Farah shook her head. “Like I said, he seems like a good guy, but I didn’t feel any vibes.”

  “Fair enough. Do you want to get a drink, or shall we hit the action?” Tatum asked.

  “Soft drinks only,” Aubrey added. “No alcohol in the dungeon.”

  “No, I’m good. Let’s get to it.”

  The girls led Farah down the hallway and through a draped doorway into the dungeon area.

  “Welcome to our world of pleasure and pain,” Aubrey said with a theatrical roll of her eyes.

  “Wow!” Farah stood still for a moment and absorbed the atmosphere. “What a contrast.”

  The beat of music pulsed in time with writhing flesh. The place smelled of sex, leather, and sweat. Its concrete walls and floors, the wooden bondage implements, and the whips and floggers hanging from the walls beckoned to a secret part of Farah that she hadn’t realized existed. She was totally taken up by what she saw and smiled her gratitude a
t her friends.

  “This is awesome,” she said in a reverent tone.

  “We think so,” Aubrey replied with a smug smile.

  “What does that thing do?” she asked, pointing to…well, to an implement she couldn’t put a name to.

  “If you need to ask.” Tatum’s grin made it obvious she didn’t.

  Farah pouted. “I’m starting to feel like you guys have stolen a march on me.”

  “We’ve been having fun while you’ve been locking up the bad people,” Aubrey said. “Sounds like a fair division of labor to me.”

  “Why are those people lounging about on couches?” Farah asked.

  “They’re single subs, watching the early scene, waiting for partners to arrive, or to be propositioned,” Aubrey replied.

  Farah’s attention was taken up on a woman clad entirely in tight-fitting PVC. She even had a studded collar around her neck, secured with a padlock.

  “It means she’s spoken for,” Tatum whispered, obviously having seen Farah staring. “She’s someone’s sub—”

  “What’s all this sub business?”

  “Don’t you know anything about the lifestyle?”

  Farah shrugged. “Obviously not as much as you do.”

  “People who’re serious about this stuff,” Tatum explained, “enter into binding contracts. Wearing a collar with a lock on it means that lady’s in a relationship with a Dom and her Dom isn’t willing to share.”

  “Oh.” Farah grinned. “Seems like a lot of sharing goes on.”

  “That’s the viewing gallery,” Aubrey said, pointing above her head to a circular walkway that surrounded the dungeon.

  “What, you just stand up there and watch these guys making out?” Farah tried not to sound shocked. Or worse, excited.

  “That’s one of the reasons why people come here. They like to watch, and the players like to…well, be watched.”

  The three of them walked around the edge of the dungeon, but Farah kept her eyes averted. She wasn’t quite ready to take in what was happening in there yet, nor did she think she could cope with the stairs up to the viewing spot. The sound of whips cracking and cries of pain made the cop in her reach for her gun. Then she remembered where she was, and reined in the impulse.

  “There’s seating over here and a buffet,” Tatum said, heading in that direction.

  Farah felt like she was having an out-of-body experience. “Very civilized,” Farah said.

  “Like we already said, no alcohol,” Tatum told her. “Aaron doesn’t want people getting carried away while under the influence.”

  Farah giggled. “Bad for business, I guess.”

  “Down that corridor they have private rooms,” Aubrey said. “Rooms without doors so the Dungeon Master—that’s Aaron—”

  Farah chuckled. “He’s a busy guy.”

  “Right, and he can check the rules are being obeyed by keeping an eye on the occupants of the rooms.”

  “There are rules?”

  “It probably doesn’t look that way, but the rules are strict,” Aubrey said. “No one’s supposed to be forced to do anything they don’t want to. Women are a damned sight safer in here than they would be outside, say, the Bandit Bar at quitting time.”

  Farah rolled her eyes. “That’s not saying much.”

  No one seemed to pay them any particular attention, and Farah started to feel a little less self-conscious. They took seats near the edge of the dungeon and Farah finally took a look.

  “Oh my word!”

  All shapes are sizes were on very graphic display. A lot of spanking, whipping, and chaining up appeared to be the order of the day.

  “That lady will be disappointed,” Farah remarked, pointing to a guy with a very small erection.

  “Size ain’t everything, babe,” Tatum replied.

  “It’s not what you’ve got,” Aubrey said in her best schoolmarm voice.

  “It’s what you do with it,” the three of them finished together, laughing as though they were back at school themselves.

  “What’s that contraption over there?” Farah asked.

  “A St. Andrew’s Cross,” Tatum said.

  “A what?”

  Aubrey and Tatum exchanged a glance. “For a city cop she’s got a hell of a lot to learn,” Aubrey said.

  Farah shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a late developer. So would you be if you had five brothers as protective as mine are.” She shared a smile between her friends. “Okay, so tell me about this St. Andrew’s Cross thingy.”

  * * * *

  A pretty girl walked past Drew Baldwin and Isaac Kincaid, making her availability readily apparent. Both men smiled at her, but didn’t take her up on her invitation.

  “This place ain’t what it used to be,” Isaac complained.

  “Ain’t that the truth.” Drew sighed. “I leave town for five minutes and the entire place goes to the dogs.”

  “Make that five years, buddy.”

  “On and off,” Drew conceded. “But I’m back now, and you couldn’t even be trusted to keep this place running along the right lines while I was gone.”

  “Shit happens.”

  Drew rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it.”

  “Anyway, don’t blame me. I’m just a customer like you.”

  “Yeah, and I’ve made things tough for you by coming back. Without me here you only had yourself to please. Now we have to go back to sharing, like we used to, and we can’t find a babe to fit the bill.”

  “Don’t be such a quitter. We still get a lot of out-of-town talent coming in, and the night’s young.”

  “Let’s just split. I’m not really in the mood.”

  “Me neither…hang on, perhaps I am now.” Isaac leaned farther over the railing and eyed up the three girls who’d just walked in. “Oh shit, your sister’s here.”

  Drew scowled. “What the fuck—”

  Isaac laughed. “I guess that’s what she has in mind.”

  “Don’t talk about my sister that way.”

  “Easy, man! Aubrey’s with her too, and I rather like the look of the redhead who’s with them.”

  Drew, still annoyed about Tatum being there, took a quick look at the woman who appeared to have gotten Isaac’s attention. She was limping and walked real slow, like she’d had a long session on the end of a Japanese flogger. Nice figure, he conceded. She was wearing loose pants, but he could see she had long legs, a nice, tight butt, and slender hips. She must have been about five seven, he thought, but that was all he could tell from this distance. There was something vaguely familiar about her, and he had a feeling he knew her. Tatum and Aubrey obviously did, so he probably did, too.

  Something inside Drew changed as he watched the mystery woman. A premonition, a feeling…hell, he didn’t know what it was. All he knew was he couldn’t take his eyes off the woman and, like Isaac, desperately wanted to know who she was.

  As though sensing him looking, she glanced up and Drew sucked in a sharp breath. Could it really be? He’d heard she was back, but Tatum had told him she’d been shot. Even so, it must be Farah. Those three ladies had always been tight, and the limp, presumably, had been caused by the shooting. Hell, she could have been killed! Panic surged through Drew, reminding him that some things never changed. He hadn’t spoken to her yet, but already she was messing with his mind like only she knew how.

  What the hell was Farah doing here? If her brothers found out, there would be hell to pay, and like always, the Baldwins would get the blame. Tatum would be accused of bringing a wounded McLean into a den of iniquity. It didn’t matter that Aubrey was involved, too. Only Tatum would be held culpable.

  Things were worse than they’d ever been between the families since the discovery of that damned gold and Tatum’s admittance that she was involved with Will and Josh McLean. Their old man had just had a mild heart attack, and was now scheduled for cancer surgery. His illness coincided with Drew’s return, just in time for him to play referee between the warring factions whi
le Dad was out of action.

  Welcome home!

  Drew had hoped to somehow bridge the divide, if only for Tatum’s sake. Yeah, he was a real optimist! If the McLeans learned that the girls were here together, it would put paid to his noble ideas. The McLeans were tigers when it came to protecting their only sister. Feelings were running high enough, and now this. What the hell had Tatum been thinking?

  “What’s wrong, buddy?” Isaac asked. “You look ready to commit murder. I know she’s your sister, but she’s old enough to…hell, that’s not it, is it?”

  Drew didn’t answer. He was already pounding down the stairs, and Isaac had to run to keep up with him. He approached his sister and tapped her on the shoulder.

  “Drew, I didn’t—”

  “Drew,” Farah said at the same time. “What are you doing here?”

  “I might ask you the same question.”

  Drew’s eyes locked with the woman’s who was responsible for driving him out of Sanctuary. Even with that ridiculous wig on she still looked beautiful. She had McLean eyes. Beautiful eyes. Sapphire blue with silver specs, flashing liquid fire that was obvious even in the dim confines of the club, compelling him just as they always had. His mouth felt dry, and for a moment he was unable to speak. Instead he just drank in the sight of her and allowed himself to pretend things were different.

  The spell was broken when Aubrey’s cell phone rang. Several people looked at her and tutted. Cell phones were supposed to be switched off in the dungeon. She glanced at the display and shook her head.

  “Sorry, I need to take this.”

  “And you need to get out of here, Farah,” Drew said.

  “I don’t think so.” She squared her shoulders and inhaled sharply. “When did you become my keeper?”

  “She’s with us,” Tatum said. “You can’t just—”

  “Go home, Tatum,” Drew said, his tone brooking no argument.

  “Just a minute…argh!”

  Drew cut off Farah’s protest by bodily lifting her into his arms and carrying her out of the club.

  * * * *

  Farah felt a red-hot bolt of raging lust surge through her body when Drew’s strong arms swept her from the floor. How often had she dreamed of this moment? She glanced down at his forearms, fascinated by the roped muscles decorating them as he effortlessly carried her out of the club. She wriggled like crazy, trying to catch him with a swift kick to his most vulnerable place. How dare he manhandle her like this!