by KD Robichaux
Dedication
Also by KD Robichaux
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Copyright © 2018 KD Robichaux. All Rights Reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and other elements portrayed herein are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons or events is coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
Knight Production Crew
Editing by Hot Tree Editing
www.hottreeediting.com
Cover Design and
Formatting by Pink Ink Designs
www.pinkinkdesigns.com
For V.
You’re here because of this novel.
*grins wickedly
THE BLOGGER DIARIES TRILOGY
Wished for You
Wish He Was You
Wish Come True
No Trespassing
Steal You
THE CLUB ALIAS SERIES
Confession Duet (Before the Lie & Truth Revealed)
Seven: A Club Alias Novel
Mission: Accomplished (A Club Alias Novella Boxed Set)
Knight: A Club Alias Novel
COMING SOON
Doc: A Club Alias Novel
Brian
“JUST SEND THE fucking text, you pussy.” Even though my words are whispered to myself, they still sound loud in my perfectly silent bedroom. And although I know I’m alone, I still glance around to make sure there’s no one watching me be a total fucking chickenshit. “She’s your best friend. You want to spend time with her, even if you don’t have a mission at the moment for her to meet you at.”
My cell phone screen glows brightly in my pitch-black room, and I almost want to hold it away from myself in case it bites me. Who knew such a small device that I have complete control over could be so intimidating?
“Yeah,” I respond to myself, rolling my eyes. “My best friend I’m completely fucking in love with.”
I sink deeper into my pillow, my finger hovering over the Send key. “Yep, you’d totally have her babies.”
I stare at the tiny circular picture of Clarice in the middle of my screen, her smile vibrant and unmistakable, even in such a small-scaled photo. That smile soothes me just long enough that my hand relaxes and my thumb sends the message through. I gasp like a fucking damsel, but then I see the three dots dancing in response. “Fuck it. The worse she can do is say no, right?” I murmur.
I read my text once again as I wait for hers to show up.
Me: Can I steal you for a while? Maybe not return you until they do an adult Amber alert on you? I could always return you with a “Sorry” sticker :)
My phone makes its little whomp sound, and my heart gives an extra hard thump.
Clarice: Steal me? I’m just at home. Where’s your mission?
I perk up a little. She’s free to meet up like we usually do when I go on one of my jobs as a mercenary. Our schedules normally have this mystical way of lining up together. Either she’s near where I’m sent, or close enough that I can grab her on my way to get the job done. We usually spend a couple of days in a hotel together before we go our separate ways, until the next time I’m ordered to kill some motherfucker who deserves much worse than my swift takedown. And in those hotels, we create magic together. We fulfill every need, desire, and craving either of us could ever imagine.
Me: No mission.
I take a deep breath. Do I add to that and risk freaking her out? There’s a fine line for Clarice. You get too close to it, and she scampers away like a frightened puppy. She’s my best friend, my lover, my goddamn person. But if I show how deeply my love for her runs, she shuts me out. And I can’t fucking handle that.
Yet…
I decide to go for it.
Me: Just miss you.
There. Oh fuck. The dots dance, taunting me with what she could be replying. Every possible bad scenario flits through my brain by the time her text comes in, so I sigh in relief when I read what she actually sent.
Clarice: Miss you too, big guy :D Where we going then? Florida was fun that time…
Ah, Florida. Yes. Clarice met me down in the Keys for a mission, like she always does—the perks of being a freelance photographer who can make your own schedule—and I’d taken a few days off just to spend with her when I completed it.
Me: Well, I was thinking. Maybe you could come here. To my house. See my club finally.
There’s a pause. And in that pause, every nightmare I’ve ever had of her telling me she finally wants to end everything between us plays through my mind. I’m so deep in self-doubt that when her response arrives, I flinch at the sound.
Clarice: I don’t have another shoot lined up for two weeks. I’d love to! I’ll bring everything with me just in case a job comes in, but otherwise, I’m all yours.
All mine.
“All mine!” I yell, jumping up in bed like a fucking teenage girl who just got asked out by the boy she’s been crushing on. But I don’t give a shit how stupid I look. No one is here to see me acting a fool.
And no one is here to help me if I knock my damn self out, as I feel the top of my head graze my ten-foot ceiling when I jump up and down. Being 6’8”, it had been a requirement when I started searching for a home that I have extra high ceilings and doorframes. As I dust the popcorn texture out of my hair and settle back down on my California King, I’m grateful my real estate agent found exactly what I was looking for, or that could’ve been ugly.
Now that the nerve-wracking part is over, I settle back down into my normal calm, collected demeanor. Anxiety is a foreign emotion for me… unless it has to do with Clarice. That woman. I swear to God, she’s more intimidating to me than the most dangerous terrorist. She makes my heart pound harder than being in the middle of a firefight during my deployment. She makes me sweat more than all my mercenary missions combined.
If my partners would’ve seen me just moments ago, jumping on my bed, they would’ve had me committed. They’ve never seen me around Clarice. Hell, they don’t even know she exists. The Brian they know is stone-faced, barely has a sense of humor, serious, and 100 percent focused on the job. But little do they know I’m so zeroed in on my missions, because that’s the only time for the last several years that I’ve been able to see Clarice. And when I’m not with her, I’m thinking about her, worried about her out there in the world alone, wishing she was here by my side.
Clarice: Bri? Did you fall asleep?
Me: Far from it. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep until you’re here. I can’t believe you said yes!
While I may hold back from telling her just how much she means to me, I’m always, always honest with her. There are no secrets between us. What’s the point in having a best friend if you can’t confide in them?
Clarice: LOL! I think I’ve gotten spoiled, getting to see you so often lately. But then when I wasn’t able to meet up with you for this last one, it seriously bummed me out. It was… uncomfortable not being there with you, after our adventures in New York, Raleigh, and Nashville.
Her admission makes my chest s
well. I know exactly how she feels. It was incredibly lonely in Charlotte without her. I missed the excitement of meeting her at the hotel, the passion of having her top me, the look of delight on her perfect face when I shared with her the details of the job, and of course my reward at the end for completing my mission.
Her submission.
I’m only ever granted that sweet prize, the Holy Grail when it comes to Clarice, whenever I’m finished with a job. Otherwise, it’s me who gives in to her dominance.
Me: It wasn’t the same without you. When can you come?
Clarice: I have to finish up some edits, and I have a doctor appointment the day after tomorrow. So how about the day after that? Thursday?
Me: Dr appointment? You ok? Thursday sounds perfect.
Clarice: Yeah, just my yearly with my girly doc. Yay! I’m excited.
Me: Me too! I seriously thought you’d say no.
Clarice: You did? How could I ever tell you no, silly?
Me: IDK. But I sure am glad you didn’t. Time is going to go by so slow now.
Clarice: Oh, it won’t be too bad, big guy. I’m tired as hell, so let’s try to get some sleep. See you in 3 days, okay?
Me: Yes, ma’am. Night, lover.
Clarice: ;) <3
I smile as I lie back on my pillow, adrenaline rushing through my veins stronger than when I’m in the middle of hand-to-hand combat with a sex trafficker. But a few moments later, her words remind me of something very important. And I realize I have to make an appointment with a doc of my own.
Brian
THE NEXT MORNING, I sit in the waiting room inside Doc’s office. Usually, we catch up at the club, but I needed to see him ASAP to start downloading a bunch of shit he doesn’t know.
When Doc, Seth, Corbin, and I formed our mercenary team—which we hid behind a legitimate security company, Imperium Security—one of the rules Doc put in place was that we’d have to attend regular therapy sessions with him. And we always follow Doc’s rules. After all, he put our group together.
The door opens, and a middle-aged woman steps out, thanking the towering bearded man behind her for making her feel much better. He gives her a small smile and a nod before she hurries out the front door.
“Come on in,” he tells me, and I follow him into his office, plopping down on his couch as he takes a seat in front of me in his chair.
He takes his notepad off the small side table next to him, uncapping his pen. “Needless to say, I was surprised to receive your text last night asking to meet with me. You do realize it’s usually like pulling teeth getting you to sit down and share any sort of feelings, right?”
I feel a twinge of guilt. He only put the rule about therapy sessions in place to look out for our well-being. I rub the back of my neck, looking him in the eyes. “I know, Doc. But… I’m ready to share now. Actually, I have no choice but to share now.”
“I see.” He crosses his legs, placing his ankle on the opposite knee. Leaning over in his chair to place his elbow on the armrest, he rubs his beard. “Are you saying you haven’t been honest with me during the sessions you have agreed to?”
“Not at all. But our sessions have always been about how I feel about our job as mercenaries. I download everything to you after a mission. You debrief me, making sure killing all the assfucks isn’t doing any psychological damage. Or any more, rather.” I chuckle, trying to relieve some of the tension in the air.
“And this appointment isn’t about that?” Doc lifts a brow.
“Negative. This appointment is about…” I shift in my seat. I’d been in such a rush to prepare everyone for Clarice’s arrival that I never actually thought about what I’d say. Fuck. I guess I’m just going to have to be honest here. “This appointment is about Clarice. My… my best friend. Who… I’m in love with.”
The look on Doc’s face almost pulls a laugh from me. Usually, there’s no shaking the man. He stays calm, cool, and collected through some of the most trying therapy sessions with victims of terrible crimes. But right now, his eyes are bulging and his mouth gapes open.
He snaps his jaw shut and sits up in his seat, clearing his throat. “Well. Okay then.”
“Yeah.”
“I mean, I’ve never forced you to talk about anything other than the job, because you never partake in any of the club’s activities. When Seth initially had the idea to build Club Alias as a backup monetary resource in case Imperium Security didn’t do well, and we all chipped in as partners, we talked about previous relationships in our first therapy sessions. It was agreed upon by all of us that in order to be the head Dominants, we had to know for sure we were capable of handling any situation and nothing from our past would get in the way of that,” he reminds me.
“And I was honest back then. I told you about the only two relationships even worth mentioning. There was nothing extraordinary. Just two short instances where I dated, had regular ol’ vanilla sex, and then we went our separate ways. Relationships in the military are hard. That’s why I never really tried to have one,” I explain.
“Yet you’re saying now that you’re in love with someone. Your best friend, you said?” He looks down at his notepad, only to find it empty. Since I shocked him so badly, he forgot to write anything down.
“Clarice,” I supply, her name instantly bringing warmth to my chest.
“Clarice.” Doc eyes me, and then he smiles.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing.” Then tries to hide his grin.
“What?” I growl.
“I just never… Bri, I thought you might be gay. I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with being gay. Nothing at all. But… I thought you were gay and that you were in the closet, and that’s why you never participated at the club,” Doc says. “And as it wasn’t my place to force you to out yourself. Since it didn’t affect your ability to get your missions done nor take care of the club, I never brought it up. Little did I know, you had a… best friend. Who you love.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “Not gay. Just wrapped around one tiny little woman’s finger.”
“So why the sudden need to share?” he asks curiously.
“She’s visiting me in a few days. It’s the first time she’s ever come to me, and I want to show her my life here. Introduce her to everyone, take her to the club. And in order to do that, I knew I’d have to open up to you if I wanted to bring a guest.”
He nods. “And is she aware of your feelings for her?”
“She’d have to be blind if she wasn’t. And one thing Clarice is definitely not is stupid. But she is… closed off to them. Whenever I try to display my love for her, her walls go up. She changes the subject or laughs me off,” I explain.
“Well, let’s start from the beginning, shall we? How did you two meet?”
I settle into the cushion of the couch, lean my head back, and close my eyes, letting the memory overtake my mind.
Eleven Years Ago
Khost, Afghanistan
“DO YOU MIND if I take your picture?”
At first, I ignore the soft female voice as I take another bite of my dinner. The mac and cheese has gone cold already, but it doesn’t matter. It’s so blistering outside one wouldn’t really want to eat steaming hot food anyway.
“Sir?” comes that sweet voice again, only this time it’s louder, with more authority behind it.
I glance up from my plate of orange, sticky noodles and into the most beautiful brown eyes I’ve ever seen. With my mouth full, my bite half chewed, all I can do is grunt. “Me?”
She smiles, her perfectly white, straight teeth standing out against her tan skin. In fact, that gorgeous, bright grin looks completely out of place in the chow tent. Everything else is dull and dirty, like a painting that’s been kept in an attic and hasn’t been dusted in decades. It makes you want to take a rag and Pledge the shit out of every fucking thing, but there’s no getting rid of moondust.
“Yes, you.” She chuckles, and it’s a sultry sound t
hat goes straight to my cock.
“Um…” I look around, wondering if this is some kind of joke my superiors are playing on me.
“I work for Sands of Time Magazine. Just taking some shots of soldiers during their daily routines. Nothing big. Thought I could get a good pic of the chow hall,” she explains, lifting her giant black camera in one hand from where it had been hanging from a thick strap around her neck.
I swallow my macaroni. “Oh. Well… sure, I guess. Do you want me to, uh…?” I stand up from my seat, and her eyes widen as she peers up at me.
“Whoa, you’re a big guy, aren’t you?” she breathes, her gaze traveling over me from my buzzed hair to where the lower half of my legs covered in DCUs disappear behind the table. “How tall are you?”
If I had a nickel for every time someone asked me that… “I’m 6’8”, ma’am.”
She laughs again. “Oh my God, don’t call me ma’am. I’m not that old.”
“How old are you?” I groan at myself. “I’m sorry. Don’t answer that. My mind-to-mouth filter seems to be missing.”
“Oh, honey. Don’t worry about manners with me. How long do you think I’d survive around a bunch of soldiers if I cared about y’all being couth? I’m twenty-six,” she tells me, waving away my rudeness.
“Yeah, probably not very long, or you’d spend the entire time you’re here offended.” I glance down at my half-eaten dinner.
“How old are you?” she asks, and I look up to find her pressing some buttons on her camera before lifting the viewfinder to her eye.
“Twenty-one,” I reply, fidgeting where I stand as she takes a photo. “Do you want me to like… pose or something?”
“No, you can go back to eating if you want. I didn’t mean to disturb you. Candid shots always turn out the best, yet I have to have permission for the magazine.” She rolls her eyes. “Kind of a catch-22.”
I lower myself back onto the bench and grab my fork. “I’ll just pretend you’re not there.” Yeah, right. As if in a million years I could ever ignore her presence. Every word out of her mouth is mesmerizing. I hear the shutter go off a few times as I try my best to look like a badass while eating mac and cheese.