Cuffed by His Charm: A Dirty Little Secrets Novel

by Stacey Kennedy

“Let’s start at the bar.” I know better than anyone that bartenders are the people who see it all, and usually pay attention to their surroundings, especially the people.

  The closer we get to the bar, where two women wearing tight red leather teddies are working, the more the blond woman watches me. By the time we get there, I realize she’s recognized me. “Mr. O’Keefe, what can I get for you?”

  McKenna narrows her eyes at blondie then slowly turns to me, eyes wide and brows raised to her hairline.

  “No, I’ve never been here before,” I reassure her. “Don’t forget I am in the tabloids quite often.” I gesture at her phone. “Let’s move on, shall we?”

  She gives me another look before her expression goes lax, telling me she believes I’m telling her the truth, which I am. I wouldn’t be caught dead in this place. I like my women to be with me willingly, not because they’re paid for their time.

  McKenna finally clicks a button on her phone and holds the screen up to the bartender. “This is Evan Archer,” she says, “have you seen him in here before?”

  Blondie gives the screen a good look. “Yeah,” she says, wiping down the bar in front of her. “He’s a regular.”

  “Have you see him lately?” I ask.

  “Not in a few days,” she replies.

  McKenna hits the button on her phone, shutting off the screen, then asks, “Do you know when you saw him last?”

  The woman snorts. “I don’t know him personally, honey, so why would I?”

  Just as I’m about to tell McKenna we should move along, see if any of the dancers know him a little more personally, a deep voice behind me says, “Get back to taking orders, Crystal.”

  I turn toward the curt voice, finding an obvious bodybuilder in a tailored suit. He regards McKenna, who’s stiff next to me, and then focuses on me. “Your attendance has been requested. Please follow me.”

  “Uh-oh,” McKenna says.

  “It’ll be fine,” I reassure her, taking her hand, reminding her I’m there with her. Then I address the suit again. “Who wants to see us, and what do they want?”

  “The boss, and you’ll find that out when you meet him. Follow me.”

  I assume it’s because we were flashing a photo, asking questions, and I know I’d likely do the same thing at the pub. Besides, if we want answers, the boss is likely to have them, so I nod at McKenna. She squeezes my hand a little tighter as we follow the suit, passing the stage where the topless stripper is sliding down the pole. When we move through an open doorway, there’s a bodyguard stationed on either side.

  Inside, we pass men sitting on a bench, with women dancing atop them, giving the show they’re paying for. The suit passes through another doorway that leads to a set of stairs. I keep McKenna behind me, and soon, we’re stepping into the top floor of the club. From the crimson leather couches, to the crystal chandeliers, to the bar with premium alcohol, this space screams wealth.

  I glance around at the men sipping their scotches and smoking their cigars, with women fit to be Victoria’s Secret models dancing around them, and I know what kind of establishment this is. This space is meant for the elite, and is designed for men who are willing to pay for sex. I squeeze McKenna’s hand, and she gives me a quick smile; obviously, she’s thinking along the same lines.

  When we reach the back of the room, there’s another doorway, and when we enter the space, I’m immediately aware that Alex and Ryder haven’t led us wrong. Against the far wall there’s a large bar with two bartenders wearing white shirts, black ties, and vests, and in front of the bar is a large card table. We pass that, heading to where there’s a seating area, and a lone man is sitting in a leather chair, a scotch in his hand. One man flanks him, obviously his guard. I study their faces, but they aren’t the men we saw taking Evan in the video.

  I keep my attention on the man coolly regarding me. Early fifties, a slight beer belly, salt and pepper hair; he’s got a presence that I’ve seen in both Micah and Darius. This guy doesn’t watch, he assesses his target. And there in his black eyes is a warning for me to tread lightly with McKenna so vulnerable standing next to me.

  “Gabe O’Keefe,” he says, not bothering to stand.

  “I’m afraid that I’m at a disadvantage and don’t know your name,” I say to him.

  “Marcus Draken.” He keeps one arm on the armrest, the other resting on his thigh with his scotch glass in hand. “So now that we’ve gotten introductions over with, you can tell me why you’re in my club showing a photo to my employees.”

  There’s a tug in my subconscious. Something about how he’s watching me raises my alarms. He doesn’t seem surprised I am here, and considering who I am, and what type of establishment this is, that’s odd. I take the cellphone from McKenna’s hand, click the screen on, and offer it to Marcus. “We’re looking for Evan Archer. From what we’ve learned the last place he was seen was here.”

  “Is that so?” Marcus barely looks at the screen. “Ah, yes, I think he’s been here before.” He hands the phone to the suit next to him. “Isn’t that right, Tommy?”

  Tommy doesn’t even look at the screen, handing it back to me. “Yeah, he looks familiar, boss.”

  Marcus gives a cool smile. “Though as you can see”—he waves around the room—“he’s not here now.”

  McKenna stiffens, going rigid. “Can we cut the bullshit? It’s obvious you know my brother. So, what did he do to you? How much does he owe? What do I have to pay to get him back?”

  Marcus takes a long sip of his drink, those dark eyes regarding me before he sends his focus back to McKenna. “I’m afraid, I don’t—”

  “Bullshit,” McKenna shouts, hands fisting at her sides.

  Marcus has the gall to look insulted. “My dear, such hostility.”

  I place my hand on the small of her back, feel her trembling beneath my touch. “McKenna,” I say softly.

  She snaps her head to me and scowls. “What? He knows were Evan is, Gabe. You can see it all over his fucking smug face.” She turns her glare back to Marcus. “Where have you taken Evan?”

  “Taken him?” Marcus blinks.

  His surprise is an act that even I can see, and I sense McKenna stiffen further. Before she gets us both in trouble, I interject, “We don’t want to involve the police, so I suggest you answer her.”

  Marcus’s amused eyes flick to mine, and they slowly begin to narrow. “Involving the police would be a very bad idea. Wouldn’t it, Tommy?”

  “Yes, I would not suggest you go down that road,” Tommy says with a dangerous smirk.

  I draw in a deep breath, regarding the men around me. From the way Tommy is standing with one hand on his hip, I get the distinct feeling he’s carrying a gun. There’s an edge of danger in his expression that concerns me. I don’t want McKenna anywhere near these people. I grab a card out of my wallet and hand it to Marcus. “If you happen to see Evan, it’s imperative we speak with him.”

  “Of course,” Marcus says, tossing my card on the table in front of him.

  I don’t doubt in a second that card will be in the trash. But I won’t have McKenna getting more involved in this than she already is. The last thing I need, on top of everything, is fearing for her life, and these are men I need to know more about before I take a step farther. There’s a stink of violence and crime in this room. I squeeze McKenna’s hand, and turn, intent on getting her out of here.

  “What are you doing?” she asks softly, keeping the conversation private, as we take a step forward.

  “He’s not going to tell us anything,” I tell her just as softly. “We cannot force him, not without something to bargain with. Besides, it’s not safe for you here,” I remind her.

  Her mouth presses into a firm line with obvious frustration.

  Just as we reach the first table, Marcus calls out, “I do hope your brother makes it home safely, Ms. Archer.”

  The next seconds are a blur, as McKenna drops my hand, spins, and runs toward the man. I’m hot on her heels,
reaching out to grab her, but so is Tommy, and he’s running straight for her. Hot fury storms across me as I watch Tommy’s elbow connect with her face, taking her down to the ground.

  By the time I reach her, McKenna’s on her side with Tommy pressing her into the floor. I can only assume every pair of eyes in the room are narrowed on us, but my eyes are on McKenna, only her. “Remove your fucking hands,” I warn Tommy.

  Silence falls, and it’s in that silence I hear McKenna’s soft whimper. “Now,” I growl, exhaling the long breath controlling the fury burning my blood. If she weren’t here, my fists would have taught Tommy never to touch what’s mine, but she is here, and I need to get her to safety. That’s all that matters.

  A tense moment passes, then Marcus chuckles. “She’s not your thing to play with, Tommy. Release her.”

  Tommy rises, returning to his spot behind his boss. I stare at him, wishing we’d met in a back alleyway, just the two of us, as I gather her to me. I rise with McKenna in my arms, her cheek on my chest, and I catch Marcus’s gaze. There’s something there in the depths of his cold black eyes. Something that tightens my arms around her, flaring my desire to protect her. Something that promises danger.

  McKenna

  By the time, we get back to Gabe’s, the small mark beneath my eye from Tommy’s arm has become a red circle that I can’t stop poking. My head’s pounding when I move straight to the couch, hearing Gabe shut and lock his front door behind me. I take the pillow on the couch and place it on the armrest, and then proceed to drop myself onto the couch and gently toss my arm across my face, blocking out the light. I shut my eyes against the deep throbbing behind my eye, never intending to move ever again, when suddenly I hear soft breathing next to me.

  Before I can drop my arm, Gabe says gently, “Here, take these, my little warrior princess.”

  I sit up, find him standing there, expression serious, eyes pained. “What are these?” I ask, examining the pills he’s placing in my hand.

  “Tylenol for the pain and vitamin C to reduce how easily you’ll bruise.” Then he grabs an ice pack wrapped in a towel off the coffee table. “This will help with the swelling.”

  “I take it you have experience with shiners.”

  I accept the glass of water he’s offering and toss the pills back, chasing them with the cold water, when he adds, “Before O’Keefe’s became what it is, I couldn’t afford bouncers, so I dealt with the rowdy bunch that drank too much.” The side of his mouth arches playfully, chasing away some of the tension in his eyes. “There was a good year when my face was permanently bruised.”

  “Now that is a shame,” I comment, handing him back the glass of water.

  “Why is that?” He places the glass on the end of the coffee table and then moves to sit on the other edge, right in front of me.

  “Because it’s such a pretty face.” I smile then cringe as the bite of pain blasts across my eye. “Ow, bad idea. No smiling.”

  Gabe’s brows pull together, confliction racing across his expression. He leans forward and swipes the hair off my face, gesturing to the ice pack. “Put it on. Twenty minutes, no less.”

  I gently apply the ice pack, keeping one eye open and on Gabe across from me. He’s leaning his elbows on his knees, his gaze is so focused on me that I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking.

  “Is this the time you reprimand me?”

  He frowns. “What you did back there was stupid.”

  Maybe not my finest moment, but . . . “He knows where Evan is, Gabe, and he was fucking playing with me.”

  “I don’t disagree with you, but we were greatly outnumbered in there. We’re dealing with violent people, obvious criminals, McKenna. You’re goddamn lucky I didn’t kill that guy or we’d be in a very different spot right now with bars across the doorway.” He stared at me, eyes intense. “Do. Not. Ever. Do. That. Again.”

  “But . . .”

  “Ever,” he says, voice low, eyes narrowed. “Tell me.”

  “Okay, fine, I won’t ever try to pile drive the bad guy again.” I sigh, seeing that his concern is due to fear. “Hell, I don’t even know what I planned on doing. It’s not like I could have hit him or anything. My temper just got away with me, and I acted on pure impulsivity.”

  “I understand that completely,” he says softly. “But if either of us is dead at the end of this then what was the point of it all?” He pauses then shakes his head, obviously frustrated. “We need Ryder to give us something to make Marcus talk. He wants something, I don’t doubt that.”

  “Then why didn’t he ask for it?”

  “That, I’m afraid, I don’t know.”

  Before I can either scream in frustration or break down in tears, Gabe’s phone rings in his pocket. He takes it out, looks at the screen, then presses the speakerphone. “Ryder, you’re on speakerphone. Kenna is here, too.”

  “McKenna is why I’m calling,” says Ryder. “Are you okay?”

  I blink my open eye. “How do you know I’m not all right?”

  Gabe gives me a little smile, obviously knowing things I don’t, when Ryder replies, “We tapped into Marcus’s security cameras and watched the incident.” He pauses, then says, “Alex has just joined us now.”

  “Howdy all,” Alex says in a chipper voice. “Way to go all kickass, McKenna. Seriously, watching you lunge for that guy was the highlight of my day.” A pause. Then, “What? It was badass.” Another pause. “I’m sorry you got hurt, McKenna.”

  “Thank you,” I say with a laugh.

  Now it’s Gabe’s turn to glare, so I promptly stop laughing.

  He turns his glare onto the phone in his hand. “Draken knows something.”

  “Yeah,” Ryder says. “We got that feeling, too, from his body language. What did he say to you?”

  “Sadly, nothing,” Gabe replies. “He taunted us. This is a game to him.”

  “What game is the question,” Ryder says, then hesitates. When he speaks again, his voice is grim. “Hold on one sec. What’s that? Zoom that in, Alex.” Then Ryder’s voice deepens with clear annoyance. “You have another situation.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When you were outside the club, someone else was there, too.”

  “Who?”

  “A photographer.”

  “Fucking perfect,” Gabe says, dropping his head into his hands.

  I watch him, all this strain, all this hell is because of me, and guilt storms into me. Who knows what the tabloid will print about us tomorrow. Maybe they’ll say that now we go to shady strip clubs. Or maybe they will print worse. As much as Gabe tries to help me, it seems to only make him look worse. My head hurts for all new reasons now.

  “Let’s stay on point,” Gabe says, lifting his head, watching me closely. “See what you can get on Draken. We need something on him, anything at all.”

  “We’re on it,” Alex says, and then the phone line goes dead.

  Silence falls, and as Gabe stares at me, there’s a lot in his expression, so much emotion that it’s hard for me to identify what he’s feeling. So much so that I can’t stay quiet.

  “What are you thinking about?” I ask.

  He pauses, examines me intently. Then, “What would you say if I asked you to stay out of this now?”

  “I’d say no.”

  His jaw muscles clench once, then he’s placing his hand on my thigh, and it feels like the most protective move, as he adds, “The game feels like it’s changing now. Tonight”—his eyes hold mine, worry heady in their depths—“those men . . . that’s a different show. I don’t want you anywhere near these people.”

  “Okay, I understand that they are a valid concern.” I mean, they even scared me but I don’t think it’s necessary to tell Gabe that. Still, my heart tugs a little. No one’s ever protected me; I’ve always been the one protecting everyone else. “Thank you for wanting to keep me safe,” I tell him, truly meaning it.

  I make a move to lower the ice pack to see him, and he shakes hi
s head. “Back on. Your twenty minutes aren’t up yet.”

  I sigh and keep the ice pack in place, staring at him with only one eye. “I appreciate that you care about me, Gabe, I do. But this is my mess, my brother. I need to be there with you.”

  He draws in the longest breath I’ve ever seen him take before he’s addressing me again. “There’s something about all this that feels very wrong. Tonight, did you feel as if they were unsurprised when we showed up there?”

  I ponder. “They didn’t seem shocked, no, but wouldn’t they expect us to come after Evan?”

  “Possibly.” He slides his hand up and down my thigh. “Perhaps Evan told them he knew you’d be coming for him.”

  His mouth pinches shut. “But that’s not enough of an explanation for you?” I ask.

  Gabe hesitates, then sighs, running a hand over his face. “I can’t put a finger on it exactly, but something about this”—he lowers his hand—“doesn’t sit right. Maybe it’s how Marcus spoke to me, a look in his eye. I don’t know, just something felt . . .”

  “Wrong?” I offer.

  “Very wrong,” he agrees with a nod. “Did you feel that at all?”

  “Not really, but I’m not sure I’m the right one to give an opinion on other people’s motivations.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I’m emotionally invested in this. I’m likely not seeing things straight.”

  He scoops up one of my hands, placing both of his around mine and kissing my palm, eyes on me. “We’re both probably too emotionally involved to think straight about this.”

  I nod, the only response I can really give. I wish there was something I could say, because I see the tension in him; it’s all but radiating out of him. I understand, too. Because as much as I can’t read other people, I can read him. He wants to protect me. He wants this over, not for Evan’s sake, but for mine, and I guess I like that he has my back. “Why don’t we talk about something else for a while,” I say, hoping to ease whatever is going on in his mind. “Something normal.”

  He keeps my hand in his and exhales a long breath before addressing me. “We haven’t had very much of that, have we?”