by BJ Wane
“It doesn’t matter,” she muttered, stowing the vacuum in the hall closet. If she stayed away from the club, she wouldn’t see him again, and that would be that. Her stomach cramped at the thought of once again giving up the only social and sexual outlet she’d allowed herself in the last three years. But what choice did she have? Master Kurt would demand answers and explanations if she returned next week, and she didn’t have any to give him, not without revealing her enrollment in the Witness Protection program. That was the one thing Detective Reynolds had drilled into her as he and Agent Summers laid out the details of her relocation – never reveal her real name or the circumstances that had forced her to change it. In this day and age of advanced technology and computer savvy techs willing to do anything for the right amount of money, it was too easy for Edwin Glascott to use his wealth and influence to track her down, not to mention to hire someone to do his dirty work for him.
The break-in at her house following the trial was solved, but there was no mistaking the threat when a car drove by the next day, the driver taking aim and shooting as soon as she’d opened her front door. Leslie still broke out in a cold sweat when she recalled the loud rapport of gun fire and her neighbor’s painful exclamation and shocked face as the eighty-something man’s arm was grazed. Even though the injury was superficial, it forced her hand into accepting witness protection. There was no way she’d risk someone else’s safety, or her own.
Leslie finished lunch and then booted up her computer to go over the week’s lesson plans, hoping work would keep her from thinking about a black-eyed cowboy who could turn her into a hot mess of longing with just one searing look. She managed to get finished in an hour, making a note of which students still needed help in some areas, and then spent an hour in the apartment complex’s gym, working out the last of the soreness from her physical exertion last night. Two months abstinence from the club activities left her out of shape for the intense scene Master Kurt put her through.
Returning to her apartment, she allowed a satisfied smile to curve her lips as she admitted the orgasms he’d wrung from her were worth the discomfort after weeks of inaction. As soon as she shut and locked the door behind her, her phone rang and she dug it out of her bag. Her throat went dry upon seeing Detective Reynolds’ name displayed and well-remembered ripples of misgiving trickled through her. Once a month, Agent Cathy Summers from the Witness Protection program checked in with her, but she hadn’t heard from the detective in charge of Alessandro Carmichael’s murder since right before she was flown to Montana.
Leaning against the door for support, she pressed the button to answer. “Detective. It’s been a while.”
“Yes, and I’m sorry to contact you out of the blue like this, but I wanted to be the one to tell you the Glascott brothers were in a knife fight at the prison last night. Jason was killed and Jake is in critical condition along with two other inmates. None of them are expected to make it,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of worry.
Leslie closed her eyes as she recalled the Glascotts’ cold faces right before Jake shot Alessandro in the head. She didn’t understand why her abdomen tightened with guilt or why her heart turned over in sympathy for how their young lives ended. They were evil, neither showing an ounce of remorse for the horrible act they’d committed, just nerve-racking hatred toward her in the courtroom.
“I’m sorry. You don’t think I should be happy about this, do you?”
“No, but I’m giving you a heads-up. Edwin Glascott is on a rampage. He’s been fighting tooth and nail to get both boys’ convictions overturned or, barring that, a new trial. I want you to be aware of what’s going on. You’re safe where you’re at as long as you don’t tell anyone who you really are.”
“I haven’t. I’d say pass on my condolences, but I don’t think that would go over well with the family. Thank you for letting me know.”
He hesitated then said, “Take care, Leslie, and remember, you did the right thing, a good thing.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that.” Leslie hung up, wishing doing the right thing wasn’t always so damn hard.
Kurt leaned his forearms on the top rail of the corral, chewing on a blade of straw as he watched the mustang pace back and forth along the opposite side. The stallion couldn’t understand why he was confined when there was all that open space for him to run and enjoy. He figured the animal had suffered worse than being penned up and hoped six months from now, the horse would know he only had his best interest at heart. It would take at least that long to put the weight back on him. For the next few weeks, his plan, other than nutrition, was to simply get the mustang used to his presence and let him know no one here would hurt him.
In time, he would discover what made the stallion tick, just as he was determined to unearth what had driven Leslie to invite a stranger home with her and prompted her to lie about her identity last night. Her eyes portrayed the same desperate need as the stallion’s, the look irresistibly sucking him in in both cases even though he was still pissed about Leslie’s deliberate subterfuge. She might think she had a good reason for it, but as far as he was concerned, no rationalization was good enough for lying to a Dom. He could forgive her that infraction if he could learn the cause for her behavior. Like most dominant men, he was a sucker for a woman with needs, whether they were physical or emotional, it didn’t seem to matter.
Strange, he mused, his gaze shifting to the mountains he never tired of looking at, he knew next to nothing about Leslie, and yet couldn’t stop thinking about her. No woman had occupied his thoughts to this extent, not even those he’d come to know very well. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was about her that made him want to pry every secret out of her. That urge hadn’t abated in the weeks following their first encounter, and last night seemed to have whetted his appetite to learn more instead of appeasing it. After she’d left the club, he had pulled Caden aside to glean as much information as he could without asking his friend to breach her privacy. Kurt had no problem doing that himself.
Caden had smirked at his interest and was happy to relate her full name, that she’d been absent from the club for two months without an explanation, and that she wasn’t close with any one Dom. Kurt figured she would either stay away from the club for a while to avoid him or ignore him if she returned, so if he wanted answers, his best option was to track her down on her turf. He ruled out showing up at her apartment as she would likely shut the door in his face. That left researching which school she taught at and surprising her where she’d be less inclined to risk attention by arguing with him.
It should give him pause how much he wanted to see her again, how much he longed to know what made her tick, and he craved to sink balls deep inside her snug pussy again. But it didn’t. He hadn’t felt this rejuvenated in a long time, and the fact it was because of a woman with trouble written all over her didn’t faze him in the least. He loved a challenge.
Speaking of challenges. Kurt turned from the corral to see Leland roll out onto the porch by himself, which was an improvement over sitting by his bedroom window. But his focus was still on the family plot instead of on therapy or the ranch. With a sigh, he strode toward the house noticing the cooler air for the first time. Or maybe it was the cold response he expected from his father when he offered to push Leland over to the graves that caused the chill racing over his arms.
Pausing at the steps leading up to the porch, he nudged his hat back and looked up at him as Leland turned to face Kurt. “I see you didn’t have any trouble getting out here.”
Leland scowled. “It doesn’t take much effort to push my skinny frame around.”
“You wouldn’t be so skinny if you’d eat better and put more effort into your exercises.” He held up a hand to ward off the rebuttal he saw forming on Leland’s face. “I don’t want to argue with you today. If you want, I’ll help you over there. Babs picked up the new arrangements yesterday.”
“I can feel their loss here the same as I can over there, or anywhere else.”
Leland swung his gaze back to the small plot. “Do you miss them?”
The abrupt question caught Kurt off guard. His father had never asked him how he felt about his mother or sister’s deaths. He’d been too busy grieving after Angela’s passing and too intent on blaming Kurt for Brittany’s to give his son’s heartache a thought.
“Of course I do, Dad. I loved them too.” He waited for Leland to say something else, but he just nodded, keeping his face averted, his eyes on the graves, dismissing Kurt yet again. Tugging his Stetson down, he spun on his heel, tossing over his shoulder, “I’m going for a ride.”
Kurt ate up the ground between the house and stable with long, frustrated strides, figuring if the stubborn old man could get himself outside he could wheel back in with no problem. He swore the longer he was home the more his father baffled him with uncharacteristic remarks and irritated him with his mulish refusal to put more effort into getting better. The man who had raised him to take pride in working the ranch alongside their employees, no matter how much money they possessed, would never have been content to sit back and wallow in self-pity for this long. He couldn’t figure out why Leland seemed to accept he was stuck in that chair for good when his doctors all said otherwise.
“I should’ve picked up another sub to fuck last night,” he muttered as he saddled Atlas. At least relieving his pent-up lust would have settled one of the issues plaguing him today. Unfortunately, once he’d learned Leslie’s identity, he’d wanted only her, before and after their scene. The question remaining – what to do about it now?
“Whoa. I was about to ask if you wanted to go for a drink, but I see you already have plans.”
Frowning at Amanda, who taught third grade, Leslie followed her co-worker’s gaze across the school parking lot and almost dropped her satchel when she saw Kurt leaning casually against the front of her car. She’d stayed at school later than usual to watch the faculty volleyball game, determined to get out of her self-imposed, unsociable rut and find other ways to entertain herself besides going to The Barn. Eying his tall, lean frame and relaxed pose, she went hot all over, her betraying body leaping on board with seeing him again even as her head was telling her no, stay away.
“Who is he and where have you been keeping him?” Amanda wanted to know, the appreciation in her eyes revealing the same thing Leslie remembered thinking when she’d first set eyes on him.
With his arms crossed, emphasizing his thick biceps and corded forearms, tight jeans molding to bulging quad muscles and black Stetson tipped low so the eyes were drawn to his rugged, sun-kissed jaw, was it any wonder both she and Amanda had stopped in their tracks as soon as they’d exited the building? But more important than her body’s quick spin into overdrive upon seeing him waiting for her was, what was he doing here?
“He’s…” What? A friend? Lover? Neither applied to them. “Someone I recently met, and I have no idea what he’s doing here. Mind if I take a raincheck on that drink?”
“Not as long as you promise details.” With a teasing grin, Amanda waved and veered toward her car as Leslie took slow, measured steps across the lot, willing her heart to quit racing and her happy girly parts to settle down. The wind blew her calf-length skirt around her legs and whipped her hair into her face. She wore a long-sleeved knit top, but still shivered as a chill invaded her body the closer she got to the first man to leave her still shaken hours after leaving her bed.
Sucking in a deep breath, Leslie clutched her satchel to her chest as she reached her car, and Master Kurt. “How did you know where I work?” was all she could think to ask as he straightened and those coal black eyes tracked over her face.
“It wasn’t hard once Caden gave me your last name. You’re cold.” Reaching behind him, Kurt opened the driver’s side door and placed a firm hand on her lower back. “Get in. The wind kicked up in the last hour, making the temperature drop.”
Turning, she pressed a hand on his chest, felt the heat and muscle through his shirt, and shivered again, this time for a completely different reason. “Why are you here?” Over his shoulder, she spotted Alan coming out of the school with another teacher, his look curious as he stiffened. Swearing under her breath, she hissed, “You need to leave. I can’t afford for anyone here to start gossip about me or to get wind of my membership at The Barn.”
“Well, I’m not going to tell them about the club,” he replied with a bite in his tone.
Rolling her eyes, she reminded him, “I may not have known who you were that first night, but I’ve heard how well-connected your family is since. Please, just go. I know I wasn’t honest Saturday night and you’re probably pissed, but I’m not discussing anything here.”
Shaking his head, he pressed her shoulder to nudge her down behind the wheel and then placed himself between the door and the seat, blocking the wind. “Nor would I ask you to, and I’m not mad,” he replied, leaning down and surprising her with his answer. “But I am curious about what drove you to ask me to come home with you when you didn’t have a clue who I was, and why you kept your real identity a secret the other night. Have dinner with me, and we’ll talk.”
Leslie wasn’t sure she heard him right but breathed easier as she noticed Alan driving off. The two times they were together there had been nothing but sex between them, and he wanted to have dinner? The small part of her she’d tried desperately to keep tucked away thrilled to the invitation, and the interested look in his eyes, and she didn’t welcome that reaction. Once she’d developed a reputation as a submissive only interested in the physical appeasement of her needs, the Doms at the club had refrained from pushing for more. She’d suppressed the desire for a relationship for a reason, and she only had to recall her neighbor’s pale, pain-filled face when he’d been shot at her front door to remember why.
“Look, I’m sorry I lied. I value my privacy. I appreciate the invitation, but it isn’t necessary. As you can see, I’m fine, no traumatic aftereffects from our scene.”
Cocking his head, he regarded her for one long, expression-examining moment that set her on edge before answering, “I wouldn’t have let you leave the club if I didn’t believe you were good to go. I’m offering you dinner, and a chance to get to know each other better, to make it more comfortable the next time we’re at the club together. Besides, accepting is the least you can do after trying to pull the wool over my eyes. According to Caden, you’re experienced enough to know why you should never lie to a Master.”
Guilt, that annoying emotion that wouldn’t let her be, reared its head again. Or, maybe the cramp in her abdomen was a continuation of the culpability she’d been experiencing since hearing about Jason Glascott’s death and Jake’s dire condition. That discomfort went along with the first thread of worry about possible repercussions for her deliberate deception.
“You’re thinking too hard, sweetheart, and making too much out of this. Come on, follow me to Rowdy’s Steakhouse. It won’t be crowded this early on a Monday.”
She wanted to, and that’s what bothered Leslie – she really wanted to, more so after hearing him call her sweetheart in that slow drawl that curled her toes and made her forget about possible consequences for her dishonesty. Because she hadn’t been able to forget him in the weeks between their two encounters, she’d be lying to herself if she denied being as curious about him as he seemed to be about her. She didn’t want to forgo going to the club again, and having a platonic dinner with Kurt would ease the way for when they saw each other again in the sex-charged atmosphere of The Barn. Given his appeal, it would test her skills at maintaining an emotional distance, but watching several other teachers exit the school, a few casting speculative glances her way, pushed her into accepting without further thought. “Fine. I’ll meet you there.”
“Excellent. In case you change your mind after I leave, remember, I know where you live.” Following that veiled threat, Kurt shut the car door and strode to his truck without a backward glance.
Resisting the childish urge to stick her
tongue out at his broad-shouldered back, Leslie started the car and drove behind him all the way to the restaurant. She’d dined at the popular, casual steakhouse a few times and liked the food, but as they parked, her stomach churned with queasy unease over her ability to keep secrets from a Master. None of the Doms she’d played with before Kurt had probed to know anything beyond her physical needs. Not that they were inattentive, but because they respected the boundaries she’d thrown up. This Master didn’t seem to care for the dividing line she’d drawn, and given his tenacity in tracking her down, wasn’t one to be satisfied with evasive answers. If she couldn’t forget him as a stranger who shared her bed one night, what made her think she could keep him at bay now?
Kurt approached her with a crooked smile tilting the corners of his sexy lips and a knowing glint in his eyes. “You’re doing it again,” he drawled as he took her elbow and steered her toward the doors.
Leslie couldn’t deny she liked his firm grip that helped settle her nerves, and the rough scratch of his palm against her softer, smoother skin. “Doing what?” she managed to ask around the distraction as he held the door open.
“Thinking too hard. Relax, It’s just a friendly meal between two acquaintances.”
She tilted her head in question as she looked up at him. “Is that what we are? Acquaintances?”
“For now.”
That smooth, confident reply set the butterflies to fluttering in her abdomen again. She tried pulling from his hold, but he only tightened it on her elbow as he spoke to the young hostess who eyed him as if she’d like to have Kurt for dinner. Leslie couldn’t blame the girl as they followed her twitching butt across the peanut-shelled wood-planked floor to a corner table. But she could, and should control the frisson of jealousy that irritated her to no end. If he was interested in the immature, flirty type, that was all the better for her.