Shattered Bonds: Book Seven of Wicked Play

by Lynda Aicher

  “Not here.” He nodded toward the room without saying more. She was curious about what that meant, but it wasn’t her place to dig further.

  “Is there more?” The building was huge, and this area took up only half of the second floor.

  “You saw the dance and bar area.” He motioned toward the stairs leading down. “There are exhibitionist and voyeur rooms on the first floor as well.” He turned to the set of stairs leading up. “Most of the third floor is private rooms that members can use for an hour or the night. They’re all different with various themes and equipment for private play.”

  Liv digested the information. It was basically what she’d expected, but it wasn’t the answers she was seeking. Carter explained the logistics, not the experience. That was where the mystery was.

  “Thanks for showing me,” she said, meaning it. She wandered into the Dungeon, weaving between a low bench and a wooden stockade that had been upgraded from the seventeen-hundreds’ model to include padded neck and wrist holes. Had Noah ever locked someone into it? “Do you know what they’re talking about downstairs?” she asked instead.

  She skimmed her fingers over the edge of a large X-shaped cross, the wood smooth and cold. Had Vanessa strapped Holden into the cuffs and flogged his back? She passed a pommel horse, the top worn a deep brown from use. What about Jake and Cali or Deklan and Kendra—did they use this stuff? The silver choker that always hugged Cali’s neck took on a whole new meaning now.

  Carter followed her into the space, his boots thumping on the wood floor where her tennis shoes had been silent. “The outpouring of support from the leather community has been surprising.”

  “How so?” She passed a metal bar suspended from the ceiling, a set of cuffs dangling from the ends. Would Noah want to bind her into those? Then what? The memory of him holding her wrists over her head, his teeth on her nipple, the heat racing to her core as she let him, begged him for more, flashed in her mind. She sucked in a breath and turned away to focus on Carter’s reply.

  “They see it as an attack on their community, not just The Den. Like you, they want to help. The Den is well respected in the area. They’re closing ranks and preparing to defend, similar to what we were doing yesterday, only on a larger scale.”

  “I had no idea.” She caught their reflection in the large mirror that ran the length of the room on the far wall. She saw two people dressed in jeans looking out of place among the strange equipment. An echo of how she felt.

  “It’s not that different from most close-knit families. You attack one, you attack them all.”

  “Is that what happened with Harcourt last year?” She’d had some time today to look up the old stories on the internet. The coverage had been extensive and harsh. The media hadn’t been kind to either side, despite their claim to be reporting the truth. However, every story can be spun to show the most incriminating aspects.

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t with Rock then.”

  More questions. “Should we head back down?”

  He sighed and nodded. “We can listen, but I don’t recommend butting in.”

  “What? Are our opinions and ideas too lowly for the mighty Doms?” What an archaic mind-set.

  “No.” The thud of his boots rebounded on the stairs as they headed down. “It just means more to them, and they’re all riled up and passionate about it right now. It’s their life and beliefs that are being attacked, not ours.”

  She stopped outside of a set of big red doors at the end of the downstairs hall. “But we support them. We’re on their side.”

  “True, but we’re not in it like they are.” He brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. “It’s like gay rights. You can be as open and supporting as you want, but it will always mean more to me because every biased opinion and unjust action against the community as a whole is a slight against who I am. A judgment intended to make me a lesser person based on who I love.”

  The urge to argue his point was right there. She’d never stood for any type of discrimination. That was what he was talking about, a prejudice against a minority group. Heck, she championed the “at-risk” kids on a daily basis. Yet, outside of being female, she’d never been a minority. What did she really know about it?

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.” She reached out to rub his arm. “I sometimes speak before thinking. I didn’t mean to offend.”

  “You didn’t.” His smile was gentle. “You just need to understand how they’re thinking out there.” He nodded at the door. “It’s not about you being a woman or not a Dom. It’s about them defending who they are.”

  Who they are. Was that what Noah was? Vanessa? Logic said yes, but she couldn’t wrap her head around either of them in that role. None of them, for that matter. And why should she? She didn’t go around envisioning the sex lives of any of her other friends.

  There were so many things to think about, and this was another layer to sift through and contemplate when she was already struggling to stay afloat.

  They pushed through the red doors to emerge into the lounge area. Once again, every head in the room swiveled to watch them.

  “Can I get anyone another drink?” Carter asked, striding to the table.

  She met Noah’s even gaze and for the first time didn’t know what to think. He was the same man she’d arrived with, but somehow not. Seeing the proof of his world, of what he truly desired—maybe even needed—left her questioning both him and herself.

  What were they doing together?

  A sinking sensation twisted around her confusion to land hard in the pit of her stomach. Carter was right. She was a bystander, not a participant, which also meant she was an outsider, and she had no clue if she wanted to be an insider or where she fit.

  She gripped the edge of the barstool to keep from reeling as her world shifted once again. She’d been pushing so hard to be there for them all, to be a part of their lives. Now she understood exactly how much she wasn’t.

  *

  Noah saw the last man out the door and tugged on it to ensure it was locked. The quiet closed around him, and he savored it for the respite it offered. No one hounding him for answers, demanding action or direction or help. There was nothing but him and the silence.

  And the three people waiting for him in the bar. And the friends pacing at the hospital. And the media snooping into their lives. And…

  He tugged on the lapels of his suit, drove his fingers through his hair and sucked up the self-pity. It was a waste of energy he didn’t have.

  The tables and chairs had been wiped down and returned to their former state when he came back to the bar. Carter and Liv were sitting on stools, and Rock was behind the bar, filling a glass with pop.

  Noah studied the gentle slope of Liv’s back and the tilt of her head as he approached the three. He’d declared his claim on her to a room full of Doms. He’d done it on instinct to protect her, but that didn’t explain the possessiveness that had raged to life when he’d seen the other Doms eyeing her up or the warmth that had eased through his chest when she’d cut off her protest.

  “Can I get a water?” he asked Rock.

  The man grabbed another glass and filled it with ice. The cubes clinking into the glass was his answer.

  “Do you think their plan will work?” Liv asked him. She was studying him with a guarded look. One that hadn’t been there before her little tour with Carter. What had she seen? Thought? The questions had been circling in the back of his mind since she’d returned.

  “It could.” He took the water from Rock. “We need to discuss it more.”

  “It has merit though, right?” Liv continued to push when all he wanted was to drop the subject. It was another decision that impacted so many people. Another call he was expected to make.

  “You heard Marcus,” Rock said. “Our staff wants to work. They’re not afraid of the press.”

  “I know that.” Noah slammed his glass down. The water splashed over the rim to soak his shirt cuff. Son of a bitch. He sho
ok it off, his temper simmering on two days of stress. They’d conferenced V and Marcus into the discussions, but there were still the other three to talk to. The men who maintained the majority partnership in the business. It felt wrong to decide anything about The Den without them.

  And when would any of them be in the frame of mind to make a decision?

  “We don’t have to decide this tonight.” Carter eased from the stool and pushed it in. “It’s late, and we’re all tired. We can do inventory tomorrow.”

  “I thought the order had to go out in the morning?” There Liv was, reminding him of the things he wanted to forget. Like Beth and his dominant nature that should stay buried.

  Damn it. Noah pinched the bridge of his nose and winced. “Maybe we can get Wes and the twins to do it tonight.” Like the security crew didn’t have enough to worry about.

  “I’ll talk to them,” Rock said, doubt in his voice. “Do you know where Jake and Seth keep the paperwork?”

  He did, but Seth’s brief explanation of the steps and ordering process with the various suppliers wasn’t written down. What did he know about managing a club? Nothing. Marcus was the one who could probably pick it up the fastest, but that wasn’t possible.

  “We need help, don’t we?” He looked to Rock, the admission cinching around his neck like a noose. “We don’t know how to order stock or pay our bills or do payroll or the fuck-ton of things Seth seems to do on his own.”

  “Chelsie can probably handle the accounts,” Rock offered. She was the bookkeeper who worked with Seth.

  “We can’t dump it all on her.” He braced his hands on the edge of the bar and tried to roll the stiffness out of his neck. “And there’s too much for us to do ourselves.”

  They’d gone from a team of seven to two in one day. Rock could handle the security, but neither of them could run the business. They weren’t qualified, and he wasn’t arrogant enough to try and do it, even if he had the time to do so.

  “So taking those men up on their offer of help sounds like a good possibility, right?” Liv asked.

  Nudge. Poke. Prod. Make a decision.

  He met Rock in a long stare that provided no answers. In some ways it was like letting the enemy into their camp. Some of the Doms who’d been here tonight owned their own clubs, and others were simply respected in the community. Three were members of The Den, but that didn’t mean they were qualified or trusted to run the club.

  He pushed off the bar, slung his jacket off and draped it over a stool. “I’ll go find the paperwork for the inventory. Hopefully we can get some staff in here tomorrow morning who know what they’re doing to fill it out.”

  He didn’t wait for a response before he left to track down the needed information from Seth’s office. The unscheduled two-hour meeting had sucked up time he didn’t have to spare. He checked his phone when he entered Seth’s office. Nine forty-five.

  He flicked on the light and scanned his emails to find nothing from his media contacts on what the ten o’clock news would be reporting. Even Rock had come up empty, despite his computer hacking skills. The unknown loomed with the pending attack he couldn’t avoid or prepare for.

  He found the inventory information, pages of items with numbers and quantities that meant nothing to him, then hustled back to the bar. The TV was already on. He grabbed the remote and jacked the volume up when the news broadcast started. No one said a word. In some ways, it would be easier if the news just broke so the limbo of wondering would be over.

  When the tenacious little Deborah Coats came on the screen, it took one sentence for the waiting to end. “The people injured in the Harcourt accident-turned-suicide have been identified.”

  Liv’s sharp inhale was timed with Rock’s low curse and his own silent one. His stomach churned with every name that came out of the woman’s mouth. Jake McCallister, Tyler Wysong, Kendra Morgan all critically injured, the last two still in comas and on life support. Deklan Winters, Seth Mathews, Allison English, Cali Reynolds admitted and released with non-life-threatening injuries.

  And the reporter went on to include details of the three owners of The Den, the link to Harcourt and speculation on their connection to the other passengers. The story had all the elements the media hungered for. Sex, mystery, murder—they wouldn’t let this go anytime soon.

  He clicked it off as soon as the piece ended. One thought roared through his mind: now what? It was on the expressions of the three who looked to him. It’d be on the lips of the friends whose private lives had just become public. It’d been the catalyst for every action he’d made since the accident.

  His deep inhale and slow release did little to center him, but it had to be enough. The list of To Dos shuffled into prioritized actions that he moved on.

  “Rock.” The man straightened away from the bar. “Dig deeper. I don’t care what laws you break, just don’t tell me about them.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” Rock said. “But I can’t find it if it’s not electronic.”

  “Someone has to be doing searches. Digging for backgrounds, connections, whatever. Find those trails so we have an idea of what’s coming. I’m putting Marcus on the hunt for a temporary business manager to run the club. Every day closed is profits lost. Butch and I go back years,” he added, referring to one of the men who’d been there earlier tonight. “I trust him and his skills as a Dom. I’ll see if he’s willing to oversee the Dungeon and BDSM activities. We’ll cut off new memberships for now, but let’s shoot to reopen on Saturday night with the annual Halloween party.”

  There was a second of silence before Liv said, “Been thinking about that much?”

  He frowned. She grinned. Carter laughed. Fucking day.

  “You okay with that?” He ignored the other two and stared at Rock. “I’ll clear it with the others, but we don’t have a lot of options.”

  “Agreed.” Rock’s arms were crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed in thought. “I’ll work with Marcus to clear whoever he finds. Get me Butch’s info, too, so I can start the background check.”

  “I need to run this by Seth and Deklan.” He also needed to get the legal letters ready for the morning to cut off any slander or libel attacks.

  “So go.” Liv waved him away and leaned over to scoop up the papers he’d dropped on the bar. “Carter and I can do this.”

  Carter shot her a dubious look but nodded.

  “You don’t—”

  “It’s just counting,” she cut in, and he had to hold back his reflexive sigh. She shuffled through the pages. “I do this for the center. It’s not that hard.” She tapped the papers on the bar and gave him a smile. “We can do that part. I texted Marcus, and he’s contacting the cook and head bartender to come in in the morning and finish the actual orders.”

  Why in the hell hadn’t he thought of that?

  Carter attempted to suppress his smile, with minimal success, where Rock didn’t even try. Noah wavered among frustration, gratitude and acceptance. He rubbed a hand over the tight muscles on his nape, wished for a crystal ball, then let it all go.

  “Okay,” he said, slipping his suit coat on. “I’ll come back when I’m done at the hospital.”

  “Why?” She frowned. “Just head home. We’ll take care of this.”

  “She’s safe,” Rock said when he started to object. “I’ll follow her to the highway.”

  His need to protest was irrational and he clenched his teeth until he’d wrestled his control beast back. “Fine,” he finally agreed, the word clipped. “If you’re sure.” He held Liv’s gaze, half hoping she’d change her mind.

  “I’ll be fine.” She came over to him, her smile gentle like her touch on his arm. “I’ll text you when I get home.”

  There was the issue. He wanted her at his home. In his bed, to be exact. He ran the back of his fingers over her cheek, wishing they had time to talk. Time to sort out what was developing between them. Time to…

  She pressed a kiss to his lips, another soft touch that wasn’t
close to enough. The rest of his concerns fled as he grabbed her nape and tugged her in until she was a solid length against him. Her mouth was the warm haven he remembered, her lips open and welcoming. Her low moan ripped through him to trigger images of last night that he wanted to repeat.

  He slid his hand down her back to find the two small dents at the crest of her bottom. He rubbed over them, down, up, then down again and back. Those he had to see again.

  He swirled his tongue with hers one more time before he leaned away. “Be careful,” he said against her lips, uncaring what the other men thought.

  “I will.”

  “Call me if—”

  “I will.” She smiled at his frown, gave him one more kiss then stepped back. Her hand was tangled in his hair and she fixed the strands when she withdrew it. The gentle strokes sent tingles over his scalp and down his neck.

  “You do that a lot,” he said absently.

  “What?”

  He let her go. “Cut me off.”

  “Only when you’re protesting something you shouldn’t.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Yes.” She raised her brows, her smirk teasing. “You do.” Right. He wasn’t going to argue the point with her. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

  “I’d sleep better if you were at my place.” She sucked in a quick breath, and he silently cursed himself for speaking on impulse. “Until we know what the media is going to do, I don’t like you being alone.” He tossed in the last sentence in a rush to justify his words.

  She narrowed her eyes in an analysis that was eventually tempered by the hint of a smile. “Yeah. You’re probably right. Maybe I should stay with V for a while.”

  He held back his own smile at her not-so-subtle teasing. “She’s out of town, and my place is closer.”

  She slowly nodded, the spark in her eye dancing with mischief. “It is…but I would hate to impose.”

  “I insist.”

  Her brows lifted. “Insist? Really?”

  He chuckled. “If insisting worked with you, I’d have done it yesterday.” Her mouth dropped open, and he tapped the bottom of her chin to close it before placing one last kiss on her lips. “Please. I don’t want to worry about you, too.”