Finders Keepers (Fairy Tales After Dark Book 2)

by Jessica Collins

  “Why not?”

  “When we first talked about it, during the ‘bodyguard interviews’, I hadn’t told him anything about Jeffrey. I was still too scared, worried that if I talked about my past it would come back. Literally. When I finally did tell him about Jeffrey, I never really made our relationship status clear. It wasn’t intentional, I just … I don’t consider myself married.” She shook her head. “I only ever refer to him as my ex.” Scoffing, she added, “Even that is too good for him.” The back of her eyes pricked with tears, realizing how bad she was sounding. “I never meant to lie to Alistair.”

  Gene’s lips lifted in a sad smile. “I get it, trust me. But, you should definitely tell him the truth.”

  The truth. Would he think of me any differently?

  Could I handle it if he did?

  “The truth about what?” Alistair asked, his voice cutting in from the stairwell.

  Jayla blanched, her anxiety revving up at the thought of him overhearing their conversation. She licked her lips, trying to think her way out of being caught, when Gene stepped in. No! Please don’t—

  “About The Cave, li’l buddy. Why haven’t you taken her yet?” he lied.

  Jayla let out a breath and mouthed the words “thank you” in Gene’s direction.

  Alistair looked at Gene with an inscrutable expression. “She’s not going there.”

  “Why not?” he asked, for them both.

  “No.”

  Gene looked to Jayla, his expression meaningful — about their conversation, about Alistair, about the club — all rolled into one sincere look. He stood, slapping Alistair on the back. “Fine. But if you don’t take her, I will. Your girl wants to go. Bring her.”

  As his footsteps descended down the stairs, his voice rose above. “Seriously, Al. Victory isn’t found in delaying the inevitable.”

  Jayla shook her head, knowing his comment was as much for her, as it was for Alistair.

  Later that night, Jayla was troubled. Alistair could sense it in the air as she lay in bed beside him

  Tucked into his side, her fingers trailed over his stomach, something she did often as they lay together. The motions relaxed him, but tonight, she seemed … tense.

  “What’s wrong, Princess?” he asked, needing to clear the air.

  She responded with a question of her own. “Can I ask you something?”

  Alistair laughed softly. “You already did.”

  “You know what I mean,” she said as she sat up beside him.

  He immediately missed her warmth. He tried to pull her back, but she tugged away.

  An important question, hmmm?

  He sat up with her, evening the field. “What’s on your mind?”

  She looked down at her hands for a moment before lifting her eyes to his. “Why won’t you take me to that club?”

  Oh, no. Not this again. He made a mental note to punch Gene in his big, fat mouth the next time he saw him.

  Jayla had asked before about The Cave of Wonders, the BDSM club he and Gene belonged to. Since meeting her, he hadn’t even thought about attending. The club was fun and a lot of great people went there. It was clean, the members well protected, but it was not something for Jayla.

  Besides, he only went on days he was looking for fun, days he wanted to entertain a sub. He’d never gone “just to hang out”, as some others did. She may be learning to trust him, but she wasn’t ready for a scene.

  He settled on that as the excuse. “You’re not ready.”

  Crossing her arms, she replied, “Bullshit. You don’t want me there.”

  He cocked a brow at her astuteness, yet played it off. “Why wouldn’t I want you there?”

  Pulling her legs under her, she matched his direct stare. “Who knows? Any number of reasons, maybe. Maybe you don’t want me to see how … in demand you are.”

  He laughed, playing off his nervousness. “Maybe I don’t want to see how ‘in demand’ you might be.”

  “I’d be with you,” she said softly.

  “It wouldn’t matter. You’re not wearing my collar.”

  “Your collar?”

  “Uh, yeah.” He ran his fingers through his hair, having not been ready for this conversation. It would be moving them forward — or backwards, depending on her response. “A collar is a type of … symbol — in the lifestyle, at least. In a nutshell, a Dom presents their sub with a collar to wear to signify their exclusive relationship. It would mean you’re off-limits to everyone else.”

  He’d never asked a sub to wear a collar. There had never been one he wanted to claim so fully as his own. He’d often scene with them, he’d even played around a time or two, but they’d always been free to stray during the night.

  Jealousy roared through his veins at the thought of her even being curious about a scene with another Dom. Not like he’d allow it to happen. He’d never allow someone else to push her further than she was ready for.

  Not that it’s my choice.

  “Well, I am off-limits to everyone else. So just show me the collar and I’ll wear it,” she commented, shrugging.

  His eyes narrowed as he watched her, trying to ascertain if she really was as comfortable with the idea as she appeared. It was the first time, the first real time, they discussed exclusivity, though for him it had already been a forgone conclusion.

  He shook his head, not wanting to deceive her. “It’s not just that. Collars have different meanings to different people, and there are different, uh, rules, so to speak. Some subs wear them 24/7. And some people take it as a life-pairing. They have ceremonies and elaborate collars, and sometimes even an actual wedding.”

  “Wow, really?” she asked, scooting closer.

  He laughed. “Yeah, really.”

  “Well … what about you? What does it mean to you?”

  He swallowed. “I think that would be more of a question for us. I’ve never collared someone before.”

  Her eyes widened a brief moment, before a smile slowly graced her face. “You haven’t?”

  “No, Jayla. I haven’t.”

  “So … I’d be the first? I would actually get to be a first for you?”

  Laughing at her reaction, he kissed her. “Who says I want to collar you?”

  She smiled back, into his lips. “You do. I just know it.” As she pulled away, she continued “I, uh … I’d like to be collared by you. I think.”

  “You think?” he asked back, crossing his arms in jest.

  “Well, I mean. If you wanted to. I wouldn’t mind, being, you know … yours. Just not like … I’m not going to, you know, change or anything. I wouldn’t start kneeling at your feet every time I saw you and calling you ‘Master’. And I don’t want you to make decisions for me or anything. Like, outside of us playing and all.”

  He laughed again at her nervousness. “I don’t want a slave, Jayla.” Turning serious, he continued. “I want … this. I really like us, just the way we are.”

  Her eyes lit up at the admission, pushing him to keep going. “I love how you give me your trust,” he paused, kissing her cheek. “I love you staying here with me at night.” Another kiss, to her nose. “I love when we try something new, and you realize you love it too.” A kiss, to her eyebrow. “I love working with you, getting to see my sweet, sexy, girlfriend every day,” he kissed her lips at this one, throwing in the g-word, liking how it sounded on his tongue. “I love our conversations,” another kiss, her chin. “I love—”

  You.

  Stopping himself just before he said the word, he pulled her into him, taking her mouth. She kissed him back deeply, rolling her tongue over his. He was exactly where he wanted to be.

  She tensed a moment before leaning into his kiss. As they parted, he still sensed something was off.

  “Now that we’ve got all that out of the way, how about you tell me what’s really on your mind, Princess.”

  Her shoulders lifted in a breath. Instead of answering, she curled under the covers, meeting his side and
settling in.

  “That was it. There’s nothing else,” she replied, softly.

  In the darkness, his eyes narrowed, not entirely convinced she was telling the truth.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The following Tuesday, Alistair blew air through his lips, willing the night to be over. He stood outside the entrance to the Robin W. McLaurin Orphanage, the very building he’d spent a good deal of time in as a kid. Two women, in long, silken gowns, smiled politely as he checked their identification, allowing them entrance. While Alistair and most of the “Lost Boys” spent a significant amount of time at Madame Lily’s, his company still took on additional work; PI jobs here and there, security for various fundraises or functions throughout the city. For the past five years, Alistair’s company had provided security for the annual children’s home gala — a charity fundraiser to help support the orphanage. He’d never turn this job down.

  Looking up, he noticed how little things seemed to change. The dark red brick, crumbling in some areas, still reminded him of a prison, just like it had when he was younger. Smiling, he remembered his favorite counselor, Ms. Laura. She’d always allow him and Gene to hang out in her office, even when they were supposed to be at school, or doing chores. She’d come from behind him, ruffling his hair while he played his handheld game, shaking her head as he repeated a crude joke. Between him and Gene, the poor woman had her hands full.

  He often hoped Ms. Laura would return for an event, just so he could see her one more time — and let her know that he and some of the others had actually made something of themselves. Last he’d heard, she moved back to Louisiana to care for her sick mother.

  Aside from the “Lost Boys”, most of the other men he hired had spent at least some time in the occasional foster home. They all knew how important places like these were to kids like them, just as they knew how truly terrible some of the foster home and orphanages could be. But not Robin’s. The staff was well vetted, always kind, and in all the years the place had been in operations, never a single accusation of abuse.

  A low whistle sounded in his earphone. “Daaaamn. The redhead you just let in is sexy as hell. Is her number on the sheet?” Dante, one of his men, asked through the mic.

  Alistair shook his head, smiling. Probably the best part of the night was getting to spend time with the guys. Their constant bickering, jests at each other’s expense, and jokes, helped the time move along quickly.

  “Sorry, D. Looks like you’ll have to try — and fail — at getting it yourself,” Alistair responded, laughter sounding in his ear after his jab.

  “Dante strikes out more than a professional bowler,” Gene added, his belly laughs apparent through the earpiece.

  “Shuddup, numbnuts.” Dante retorted, spurring another round of laughter.

  Peter’s voice rang through the mic. “Hey, Dant, got her on the camera up here. You can trade places with me — it’ll be the closest you get to her.”

  Alistair chuckled as the insults started flying. Every time the guys got together, it always ended like this. From the outside, they might seem like assholes to each other, but it was only in good fun, and each of them knew, if push came to shove, they had each other’s backs.

  “I’m getting her number tonight,” Dante spoke, through what sounded like a clenched jaw.

  “Oh, that reminds me. Got your mom’s number last night, tell her I said thanks,” Gene commented. Alistair knew he only said it to piss Dante off. Dante’s mother had given birth to him at fifteen and given him up for adoption. He was about the same age when she found him again. She’d rescued him from a pretty crappy shelter and been there for him ever since. She loved all the guys, always teasing them that she wished Dante’s father was like them.

  “You’re a sick fuck.”

  “So was she,” Gene continued.

  “I think you’re confusing her with the pile of dildos stashed in your closet. You know, for your ‘alone’ time,” Dante quipped.

  “Dude … are you saying your mom’s got a dick?” Max chimed in, his quick observation no doubt flustering Dante.

  “I can personally guarantee your mom doesn’t have a dick. Except, of course, when I’m inside her,” one of the others added.

  Dante just mimicked their laughter, obviously bested under their relentless onslaught.

  “Sorry to break up the fun, kids,” Alistair spoke, quieting them, as the bank van pulled up. “Pick up’s here. Who’s on the safe?”

  “Me,” Max called. “Eyes on it, I’ll follow it out.”

  Alistair nodded to the two hulking security guards who climbed out of the armored car. He’d hired an outside company to secure the cash donations from the fundraiser and take them directly to the bank.

  “Straight to the back, fellas. Max is waiting for you.”

  Alistair watched them until he heard Max confirm their arrival.

  “Hey, Teddy, follow it out with Max.” Alistair directed. “I need a replacement,” he called.

  The sound of a cracking whip graced his ear. “Replacement? Already? What… has it been too long without a check-in?” Dante joked.

  Alistair took a breath, ready to respond, when Gene cut in. “Nah, Jayla’s not like that. Our boy probably just needs to change his tampon.”

  What the… “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, irritation evident in his voice.

  “Nothin’,” Gene replied.

  Alistair narrowed his eyes. Three … two…

  “’Cept the fact you’ve turned into a pussy in the past month.”

  “Oh … yeah, how are things with Jayla?” Max asked, a light tone to his voice. “She’s got one hell of a voice.”

  Alistair’s cheeks heated. Why, he had no idea. “She’s fine.”

  “She’s unsatisfied,” Gene quipped.

  “We’re not going there again,” Alistair started, which only sparked a round of laughter.

  “Safe’s loaded. Going where?” Max responded. The breathing through his earpiece indicated Max was on the move.

  Gene responded quickly, “Not The Cave, that’s for sure.”

  Dante hooted. “She wants to go? Damn. I’ll take her.”

  “Focus on the redhead,” Alistair commented, through gritted teeth.

  “Safe’s out the main door,” Peter’s voice crackled through. “By the way — redhead has a date. She’s getting rather hot and heavy with some guy in the back corner, by the stage.”

  “Damn,” Dante answered. “Oh, well, use that POS Fast and Furious face recognition thing and find me someone who looks like her.”

  “God damn that movie! It was my idea,” Pete answered, voice just lower than a yell. Alistair smiled, knowing it was a point of contention for him.

  Less than two minutes later, Teddy moved out the door, followed by the two armed guards and Max. The three of them watched as the truck was loaded and locked. Another year of food for the kids, he thought, watching vehicle pull away from the curb.

  “So, Al, I just have to know. What’s it like being settled down. You know, to someone who isn’t a psychotic bitch,” Dante asked, fake coughing to add, “Vanessa.”

  Peter, mouth full of food, added, “You really should take Tink up on that offer, Gene. She’s convinced Vanessa’s hiding something, probably got all kinds of cash stashed in a secret account somewhere, just so she can squeeze every last dime from you.”

  “That’s just Tink being nice.” Gene added, seriously, “Would hate for her to get in trouble for me.”

  “Trust me, Tink’s not nice,” Pete laughed.

  “Just ’cause she friend-zoned you doesn’t mean she’s not nice,” Max laughed.

  A chorus of “oooohs” and even a “ouch, burn,” rang through.

  “Friend-zoned you too, dickbreath.” He caught himself a moment too late, “I mean…”

  “Too?” Gene laughed. “Ah, the kid finally admits it!”

  “Shut up.”

  Alistair laughed quietly to himself, not wanting to
bring attention back to him. Normally, he’d be slinging insults with them, if only just to ruffle their feathers. Especially Dante’s. He was hilarious when he got all worked up.

  Nodding to Teddy, he took off, walking down the stairs for a stroll down the block. “I’ll be out of earshot for about five, guys. Taking a walk.” He turned off the earpiece before any of them had a chance to respond.

  The night was only half over and he’d gotten off easy. So far.

  Only a few references to Jayla, and what’s better, all the guys genuinely liked her. But that only added to his discomfort.

  She’s funny. She’s smart. The guys like her. I like her.

  Hands in his pockets, he stopped in front of the destination that had been on his mind the whole night.

  What’s the worst that could happen?

  Convincing himself one more time that he was ready, he pulled open the large wooden door and stepped inside.

  Jayla sat up in bed at the sound of Alistair opening the closet. “Alistair?” she called, sleep straining her voice.

  Walking over to her on the bed, he kissed her. “Sorry, Princess. I tried to be quiet.”

  “You were, I’m a light sleeper,” she smiled.

  “Except when you’re snoring,” he laughed, rubbing her hair.

  “I do not snore,” she added.

  “Yeah, okay, if believing that makes you happy, then go right ahead.”

  He sat at the edge of the bed and flicked on the small side lamp before running his fingers through his hair, stopping at his neck.

  “Okay, spill. I can tell there’s something on your mind.” She tensed, reading his nervousness.

  His sly smile sent a thrill through her, and calmed her. “I have a gift for you, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to give it to you tonight.”

  She shrugged. “Then give it to me when you’re ready,” she replied honestly.

  His grin turned into a full-fledged smile, pulling her in for a kiss. “That’s the thing, Princess,” he spoke against her, pulling back, rubbing her leg through the covers. “Tonight, I realized I was ready to give it to you. I just hope you’re ready to receive it.”