Shattered Bonds: Book Seven of Wicked Play

by Lynda Aicher

  Like Beth had done for him. Or at least he’d thought she had at the time.

  He winced as another unexpected hit of guilt stabbed at his heart. Thought she had? He’d thought a lot of things that had turned out to be false before she’d killed herself.

  He leaned on his elbows and pressed his lips to his clasped hands, breathing through the ache until it subsided. The surprise attacks had lessened over the years since her death to where he’d thought he was over the guilt and loss. Guess he’d been wrong about that, too.

  A hand smoothed over his back in a soothing rub between his shoulders. No words, just a touch to let him know he wasn’t alone. How did Liv know he’d needed that? That he didn’t want to talk, but the touch was welcomed. He’d never ask for it.

  Hadn’t wanted it since…

  He glanced over his shoulder to thank her, but it didn’t seem needed. She gave him another soft smile, her palm still moving over his back. Vanessa sat on her other side, her eyes narrowing when she looked up from her tablet and spotted what Liv was doing. He gave a slow shake of his head at her, narrowing his own eyes in silent warning to not start something. Vanessa pursed her lips then quickly smiled when Liv swung her head around to look at her.

  “Don’t say a word,” Liv whispered to her sister.

  Vanessa returned Liv’s stare, her features firm. “And what word would I say?”

  “Exactly.” Liv smiled, a full grin that was forced and bordered on snide. The sisterly byplay brought a smirk to his lips. Liv knew how to handle the Ice Queen, but then, she’d had a childhood of experiences to learn from. Liv swung her head around to face Noah, grin still in place. “So. Is this a good time to fill me in on all that stuff I’m not supposed to know about?”

  A puff of laughter came out before he could suppress it. Of course she wouldn’t let it go. And she shouldn’t. He met Vanessa’s gaze. She was the one who’d laid down the ultimatum that her little sister wasn’t to know about the club or that side of her life. But there was no way to keep that from Liv now.

  “Do you want to be a part of this talk?” He kept his focus on Vanessa but caught the quick head turns in his peripheral vision as Liv parsed her attention between them.

  Vanessa closed her eyes, a brief flicker of misgiving twinging over her face before she looked to Liv. “There are some things you need to know.”

  Liv’s sigh went through her whole body. “I’m guessing it has something to do with Seth’s club. Right?” She crossed her arms over her chest, her touch going with her. He missed it immediately.

  “How do you…” Vanessa frowned then nodded when understanding dawned. “The clothes.” She shot a glare at Carter, who was completely unaware of the ice daggers coming his way.

  Liv rolled her eyes toward the ceiling in a move that would’ve gotten any sub a hard spanking from Mistress V. “What was he supposed to do? We got clothes for everyone. Should we have skipped Seth because apparently you don’t want me to know that you own part of the club?”

  Vanessa’s jaw dropped before she snapped her mouth closed. “How do you know that?” This glare was aimed directly at Noah.

  He arched a brow. “Wasn’t me.”

  “Oh, come on.” Liv’s retort was loud enough to garner the attention of others in the room. “I’m not stupid. Or naive. The line of personalized parking spots pretty much spelled out how you all know each other.”

  Noah ducked his head right along with Vanessa. He’d forgotten about that.

  “What I don’t get,” Liv continued, “is why you all thought you had to hide it from me.” The hurt in her eyes was quickly hidden behind closed lids.

  Vanessa stared at him, a mix of indecision and regret communicated. Her grip on her tablet tested the durability of the electronic device.

  This was just the first fallout from the shit-storm Harcourt had started. Noah wanted to believe that Liv wouldn’t judge them when she found out what the club was about. Yet Vanessa had worried about it, so there must’ve been a reason for her concern.

  He touched Liv’s knee to get her attention, but she jumped up to gather empty snack bags and cups from around the room. He straightened, back cracking as he did. His neck joined the musical when he twisted his head to stretch the muscles.

  Liv dumped her collection into the can by the door then exited into the hallway. Everyone was touchy. He’d seen stress do that to people all too often. Hell, he’d gone after V that morning for no real reason. He rubbed his eyes, working his fingers over the arch of his brows to push away the pain that had returned at some point. Maybe it’d never left.

  “Can you tell her?”

  He turned to Vanessa. The desire to fake understanding was right there, but he didn’t have it in him to pretend. “Are you really afraid she’s going to react that badly?”

  Vanessa glanced at her tablet before slapping the case lid closed. She tucked her hair behind her ear, the blood red of her nails contrasting with the black tresses. “I don’t think so. But what if she does?” She bit the edge of her lip, just a nibble that showed her apprehension. “The risk of losing her has always been too high.” When she finally met his eyes, her fear was staring back at him. “But the choice is gone now. Harcourt stole that, too.”

  Bastard. He didn’t say that aloud, but it rang in his mind hard and fierce.

  “We need to head to the club soon,” he said. “I can tell her in the car. That way she can’t run and can see the club for herself before she makes a judgment.”

  Vanessa shoved her tablet into her purse. “Thank you. I drafted some letters. We can go over those with Marcus and Rock.” He understood the tight rein that had her emotions tucked back away. Holding things in was one of his strengths. Or weaknesses, depending on the viewpoint.

  Two people entered the room, and everyone seemed to turn in unison to study them. A man and woman who appeared to be in their early to midtwenties stood just inside the doorway. The woman wore a blue hoodie with a university logo on it and the man, who looked too much like her not to be her brother, appeared as if he’d been pulled from his office job to come here. More cavalry.

  Noah stood and approached the pair. “Are you looking for Cali Reynolds?” She’d said her children were coming, and the woman had her features.

  “Yes,” the man said, extending his hand. “I’m Logan. This is Stephanie.” He motioned to his sister. “Where’s our mom? Is she okay? What about Jake?”

  The worry and concern on their faces were all too familiar now. “Cali is in with Jake. I’m a friend, Noah. She asked me to greet you when you arrived.”

  Logan stepped around him to study the room. “God. Is Allie okay?”

  “What happened?” Stephanie asked. “Mom only said there was a car accident, and Jake was badly injured. Were others in the car?”

  “Let me get Cali.” Noah was at an unaccustomed loss. With no knowledge of what Cali’s children knew about her relationship with Jake or any of their other friends, he wasn’t about to say something that might expose her. “She’ll want to know you’re here. It’ll be better if she answers your questions.”

  He made his escape from the room, a deep breath filling his lungs with sterile-scented air. The room was becoming claustrophobic. The activity was good. Action. He needed to stay focused or they’d all be hurt, intentionally or not. Vanessa and Liv’s situation was proof of that.

  He left a message for Cali with the nurse at the ICU desk then dug out his phone and added two more items to his To Do list. There was nothing they could do sitting there. It was a wait-and-see game now for the three out of surgery. However, time was ticking and the more prepared they were, the more likely they all were of surviving the pending media attack.

  Almost on cue, a text arrived from his assistant. Remington Harcourt’s name had been released, and the sharks had started to circle.

  Chapter Eight

  Sun streamed through the car window to warm the interior, fulfilling its earlier promise of a gorgeous fall day. Liv l
eaned her head back and let the surrounding comfort sink into her.

  The kids at the center loved days like this. Growing up in Minnesota, everyone learned to appreciate the last warm ones before the brutal cold of winter set in. But for Liv, everything seemed incidental today. The weather, the low drone of the news station on the radio, the traffic backup from the late-season road construction—it all went by with barely a notice.

  What energy she had left was centered on the man driving the car. Him and the big secret he had to tell her. Ironically, the buildup and delay had sucked the climatic impact right out of it.

  Possibilities had wandered in and out of her mind. Everything from a secret sex den that promoted orgies to a biker haven that sacrificed innocent virgins—all of which were discarded. An illegal gambling hall, maybe? But V wouldn’t risk her career by getting involved with anything illegal.

  “You’re quiet,” Noah said, startling her.

  She studied his profile for a moment, noting the square chin that contrasted with the soft curve of his lips. Lips that were currently parted slightly instead of pressed tight, like they so often were. The dark sunglasses covering his eyes added to his appeal.

  “I’m waiting for you to talk,” she finally answered when he glanced her way. “I’m assuming that’s why V practically shoved me into your car when she’d been glaring daggers at us earlier.”

  Noah’s low chuckle rumbled through the air to flow around her. “You’d be right on that.” A shallow inhale had his scent filling her, too. Somehow, they were both soothing.

  “It’s not like V to avoid something.” She thought about that then amended, “Most things anyway.”

  “She’s worried.” He checked the rearview mirror before changing lanes. “About what you’ll think.”

  Her sigh was heavy with fatigue as she shifted to face him better. “Just tell me. Okay?” He looked at her, but the sunglasses shielded his thoughts. “Can it really be so awful it warrants this huge buildup? I’m almost beyond caring at this point.”

  His faint smile had her returning her own. “You two are more alike than I originally thought.”

  “Is that good or bad?” She was used to people comparing her to Vanessa, but the comments were usually about how different they were.

  “Neither.” His answer stumped her before he continued. “It simply is.”

  And that did nothing to clear it up. She let it go though, as it really didn’t matter in the scale of things. She had no problem being like Vanessa, someone she admired for her fierce determination and loyalty.

  “Have you ever heard of a club called The Den?” he asked.

  She ran the name through her mind, an inkling of recognition sifting around until it solidified. “It’s that sex club that was in the news a year ago. The one that city councilman went after before he was outed as being a Dom himself?” It’d been the big local news story for weeks last fall.

  “That’s the one.”

  When he didn’t expand, she went with the thread and filled in the rest. “So that’s Seth’s club. Or the one you guys all own. Including V. Right?”

  “Yes.” He spared her a quick glance, his features neutral like usual.

  So sex club was the winner after all. And that was what she was supposed to react to? “I don’t get it. Why the big secret?”

  He ran a hand over his nape, head tilting to stretch his neck. He’d done that so often over the morning that she doubted he realized he was doing it anymore. She clasped her hands to keep from reaching over to knead at his sore muscles. But another second had her doing just that. She would do it for any friend.

  He stiffened when she tucked her hand under his shirt collar and pressed her thumb into the hard lump at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. His soft moan and subsequent slant of his head as she stroked downward on the knot countered his initial resistance.

  “Damn, that feels good.” His voice was low with gratitude that seemed to flow right down her arm to ignite the awareness that simmered within her. The more she saw of this gentler side of him, the more he intrigued her.

  “So BDSM, right?” She shifted closer to get a better angle at his neck, her focus split between working the knot out and watching his features relax and cringe as she dug into the spot causing him pain. “Bondage, dominance, submission and masochism—that’s what it stands for?”

  “Or sadism and masochism,” he confirmed. “But yeah, it all falls under that umbrella.”

  “Okay.”

  He frowned at her, a clear look of doubt that was definable even behind the dark lenses. “That’s it? ‘Okay’?”

  She shrugged. “What do you want me to say?” Her thumb was getting sore, so she shifted her attention to the other side, using her fingers to stretch the muscles down his neck until another knot stopped her progress. His soft curse confirmed her find. “Should I assume you all engage in the lifestyle? Is that why V didn’t want to tell me?”

  “Not all of us. But yes, V does.”

  A soft laugh escaped as a vision of Vanessa and Holden dressed in leather popped unwanted into her mind. “That explains so much.”

  “How?” She couldn’t tell if his frown was confusion or a result of her massage.

  “Getting through Vanessa’s icy shell isn’t easy,” she explained. “I couldn’t figure out how Holden managed it. It’s obvious he loves her, but that had never swayed V before.”

  “I still don’t follow.”

  “She’s the Domme, right?” The thought of Vanessa kneeling for any man had her chuckling again. “My sister is not submissive.” She cocked her head, her hand resting on the warmth of his neck. “Kind of like you. Dom, right?”

  He shook his head, a smirk lighting the curve of his mouth. “Why in the hell was V so worried about telling you?”

  “I have no idea.” She noted the easy way in which he avoided her question about him, but let it go as well. It wasn’t her business, even if the thought of it sent a sizzle of interest through her.

  “So this doesn’t faze you?”

  “To each their own.” She pulled her hand to her lap to rub the slight soreness out and perhaps savor the lingering warmth of his skin. “I have better things to do with my life than worry about what others do with their sex lives.”

  She swallowed down the rise of hurt and anger that rushed up to batter her weary emotions. The fact that Vanessa thought she’d have an issue was a discussion she’d have with her later. Secrets she understood, even expected from her sister. However, the repeated and unearned distrust kicked at her. Especially now, when she’d done everything she could to help.

  “It’s not all about sex,” he murmured.

  “What?” She jerked around, unsure she’d heard him correctly.

  “Nothing.” His lips thinned back to the stern line she now disliked with a passion that surprised her. “You might not be so accepting once you hear the next part.”

  “Doubt it,” she grumbled right back at him. He didn’t know her at all if he thought something as benign as that would have her turning her back on them.

  They’d left the highway and she recognized the area Carter had driven through to get to the club. Noah turned into a half-empty parking lot and shifted the car into Park. Her unease returned with each action. The almost sick churn of her stomach came back. But really, what else could there be?

  Noah removed his glasses and shifted to face her, all traces of lightness gone. “Remington Harcourt, the former city councilman, was the driver of the truck.”

  Once again he let the statement stand for her to sort out. And like before, the picture aligned itself quickly. Like a cascade, the implications tumbled right behind. The media would be all over the story when they found out.

  She tried to form words, but they evaded her. The questions piled up in her mind, each one more detailed than the last until she finally shook her head to clear them away. In the end, she simply raised her brows at Noah and waited for him.

  “Harcourt wa
s the one—”

  “From last fall,” she cut in. “I know. I get it. So what do we need to do?”

  She knew nothing about how the club functioned, but she couldn’t imagine the people who went there wanted their private lives exposed to the world. It was the last thing the people waiting in the ICU needed, and only reinforced her compulsion to help.

  “Do you ever think of yourself?” A bemused frown wrinkled his brow.

  The question was odd and irrelevant. She matched his frown and ignored the tangent. “I assume you have a plan, so where do we start?” She dug out her phone, found her calendar and looked through her schedule for the next few weeks.

  “You don’t have to do anything,” he said, all calm and controlled. She jerked her head up to glare at him. “You have nothing to do with The Den. This isn’t your fight. Your name is on the police report, so there’s no way of hiding that. But it would be best if you distanced yourself going forward.”

  The urge to laugh was squelched when she realized he was serious. Did he really think she was that shallow? “I don’t walk away from friends.”

  “What if your association impacts the youth center?”

  His seriousness had her setting her phone down. “How would that happen?” The answer filled itself in before he could answer. Would people want a woman who associated with a BDSM club caring for their children? As if that would change how she treated the kids. Prejudices were everywhere though, and assumptions about the lifestyle, including the people who practiced it, were generally bad. “Oh.”

  “Right now, you’re a witness to the accident. Nothing more.”

  “But I am more,” she insisted. “You can’t expect me to simply disappear like I don’t care.”

  He studied her for a long, silent moment, his lips compressing into that thin line that had her wanting to wipe it off any way possible. “As stubborn as V, too,” he grumbled.

  He shifted the car into Drive and left the parking lot after that. Her “Damn straight” went unacknowledged. They pulled up to the gated parking lot a few minutes later. Noah swiped a card in front of a box, and the gate rolled back to let them enter.