by Mari Carr
Isaiah rested his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers idly playing with her hair in a friendly, familiar way. “I keep telling myself to be patient. We have forever. Problem is, I want it all right now. I’ve never felt like this, Tess. I’m so drawn to the two of you. It’s magnetic, it’s chemistry, it’s lust, and probably even unhealthy obsession, all rolled into one.”
She grinned, leaning closer to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “I love your words. All of them.”
His hand dropped to her shoulder and he used it to tug her toward him. “That doesn’t help how I’m feeling. I need you to tell me to go slow. To give him time.”
“You really think that’s the best thing?”
He nodded. “If we hit him too hard with questions he’s not ready to answer, he’ll feel threatened. And Caden Anderson isn’t someone you ever want to corner. The guy’s got some serious baggage. They all do.”
“He said some things yesterday that worried me, that upset me.”
Isaiah placed a soft kiss to the side of her head. “Me too. We’re going to have to find a way to prove to him that he is deserving of love and forgiveness. That he isn’t the monster he seems to believe himself to be.”
Tess hoped they could. Then she said the one thing she hadn’t intended to say aloud. “Rose was afraid of him when she first arrived.”
“I know.”
“I can’t understand that. I mean, Caden keeps trying to give us glimpses of who he used to be, but I can’t make that man fit with the one he is with us.”
Isaiah contemplated her words for a moment. She liked that he took his time, considering her comments before answering. “I think that’s a good thing. He seems to take no pleasure in who he was in the past. The fact that he’s different with us, that he’s someone else, is positive. It’s a sign that he wants to be a better person. And I think we can help him get there. After listening to him yesterday, hearing the things he and Rose and Weston were saying, it’s obvious they all have serious issues with trust and love. We’re going to have to show him the way.”
Tess liked the idea of that. “Okay. I’m in. Operation Love and Understanding is officially underway.”
He laughed and ruffled her hair playfully. “You’re completely adorable, do you know that?”
She crinkled her nose. “Kittens are adorable. I want to be sophisticated, sexy, intoxicating…like Rose. Did you see her? She’s freaking gorgeous.”
“You’re gorgeously adorable.”
Tess rolled her eyes. “That was helpful. Not.”
Before Isaiah could continue their teasing banter, the door to Caden’s bedroom opened.
They both turned to watch him walk into the room. His hair was still wet from his shower, but it was neatly combed, and he was dressed in new dark jeans and a black sweater. He had a suitcase in his hands.
“Morning,” Isaiah said, patting the spot next to him on the couch.
Caden nodded a silent greeting and gave them a faint smile, but rather than join them, he placed his bag by the door, then headed toward the small kitchenette, grabbing a croissant from the breakfast tray she and Isaiah had ordered earlier.
“We need to figure out our next move,” he said, all business.
“I thought the plan was to head to Las Cruces.”
“Yeah. It is. And I think leaving today would be better than waiting. Someone else is following the same leads we are. Time isn’t on our side.”
Isaiah reached for his cell on the coffee table. “Let me see if there are any flights from Boston to L.A. later today.”
“That won’t be necessary. Technically, I own a plane. Inherited it from my abusive, psychotic parents.”
“A plane?” Isaiah started to smile.
Tess’ eyes widened. “Seriously?”
He nodded. “Would have had a yacht too, but I blew it up. I made a few calls last night. It’s gassed up and waiting for us at Logan. My bags are packed and I’m ready to go whenever you two are.”
“Okay.” Tess rose and walked across the room to him, hating the distance between them. She lifted on tiptoe, intent on giving him a kiss, but Caden dodged at the last second, so instead of his lips, she hit his cheek.
“Caden,” she started.
He sighed, offering her a chaste kiss with an even quicker, less satisfying touch of his lips to her forehead. “Why don’t you pack your stuff? I’ll go downstairs, check us out, and call for a Lyft.”
Caden was out the door, suitcase in hand, before either of them could lodge a single complaint.
Tess blew out a frustrated breath. “That wasn’t good.”
“No,” Isaiah said, frowning. “Feels like we’re right back to day one. We’ve got the Caden from the altar room.”
“So we’re starting over?”
He shrugged. “Honestly, Tess. I don’t have a clue what we’re doing.”
Unfortunately, as the day wore on, Caden became even moodier. He hadn’t said more than a dozen words on the plane, and all of those were terse replies to their attempts at conversation. Eventually, she and Isaiah stopped trying and simply talked to each other.
The cab ride from LAX to Caden’s place had been uncomfortably silent as well. It was nearly dinnertime when they got to his place, so they’d ordered food from a delivery service as Caden gave them a quick tour of his expensive condo.
It was sparsely decorated and gave them very few insights into Caden’s personality, his likes, or his interests. Tess couldn’t help but notice the complete lack of family photos.
After a quiet dinner, Caden shocked both of them by claiming he was going out. When they questioned him, he said he needed to take care of something and left.
“What the hell?” Tess said when the door closed behind him.
Isaiah, however, was already on the move. “No. Fuck no. He’s not going to keep running from us. I’ve hit my limit.” He rummaged around in a basket sitting on a table by the front door. “Jackpot.”
He waved a key chain.
“Keys?”
“Grab your purse. He took the Jag, so we’re stealing his Porsche Cayenne.”
“We’re following him?”
“Only if you shake a leg and come on.”
Tess laughed and hurried out the door behind Isaiah. They saw Caden’s taillights disappear as he turned left at the end of the street. “Never a dull moment with you guys,” she said as they hopped into the car and peeled tires out of the driveway.
* * *
Caden drove faster than he should have, especially at night, the car sinking down as he took the curves of Sunset Boulevard fast enough that he sometimes felt the back tires start to skip. This far west, Sunset wound and looped through residential areas, rather than being lined with the glitz and glam most people associated with the most famous section of the road, the Sunset Strip.
He had to stop and wait at the light where Sunset hit PCH near Gladstones. On the odd occasion, he and Rose used to stop at the fish restaurant, which was touristy, but the food good enough to make it worth braving.
His jaw clenched and he threw the car into neutral and revved the engine. The black BMW stopped in front of him inched forward nervously. He wrapped himself in the icy control he’d used to shield himself for all of his adult life.
When the light changed and traffic started moving, he put the car in gear, and once he’d turned onto PCH, he started weaving through the traffic. The ocean was a wide expanse of dark blue on his left, and on his right, the hills and cliffs of Malibu rose into the night.
He slowed as he reached his destination. It was a nondescript turn off the highway, easy to miss if someone didn’t know where to look. The road snaked through a small canyon, rising steadily as it moved away from the ocean. Fifteen minutes later, he turned left and stopped in front of the gates of a massive estate.
A small plaque that read simply “Las Palmas” was mounted in the tall adobe wall that surrounded the estate and supported the heavy gate. A security sensor in
stalled in his car triggered the gate to open and he pulled through.
The long driveway curved just enough that, from the gate, the estate itself was hidden. Palms lined the driveway, and the grounds were a mix of drought-tolerant xeriscaping, gravel paths, and the occasional grass. This was the part of Malibu that few people knew—almost rural, with plenty of room for horses or other livestock, and a rugged, hilly terrain.
He came around the curve and Las Palmas, the estate that housed Las Palmas Obscuras, L.A.’s most exclusive BDSM club, came into view.
* * *
“You’re sure he turned onto this road?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” At least she had been. They’d turned off the coastal highway nearly fifteen moments ago and had seen only a few other cars, none of them Caden’s Jag.
“Hold on, there’s a driveway coming up. I’m going to turn around.” Isaiah sounded tired. It was late, dark, and what had started out as a law-abiding car chase had turned into an exercise in futility. Isaiah turned left into the pull-off in front of a large set of iron gates. He twisted to look over his shoulder as he started to back up.
“Uh, Isaiah…the gate’s opening.”
“It must be automatic.”
“But look.” She pointed to the small light in the driver’s side visor, which had started glowing green as soon as they were close enough to the gate. “I think the car opened the gate.”
“Like the Knight Rider car?”
“The what?” she asked.
“You clearly did not watch enough reruns growing up.”
They sat side by side staring at the open gate. Landscape lighting lit the palm trees that lined the long drive beyond.
“So, either it just automatically opens when any car pulls up, or Caden’s car made it open, in which case this is probably where he was going and sheer dumb luck let us find it.”
Tess said what they were both thinking. “Let’s be honest, we’re not just going to drive away. You want to know where those palm trees lead as much as me.”
“Caden is the one who would try to talk us out of this.”
“You’re right.” She grinned. “Let’s go find him and give him the chance to try.”
* * *
Caden was met just inside the large iron-banded wooden doors by one of the overseers. Mistress Faith looked lovely as always, elegant in a tailored dress.
“Anderson. I’m surprised to see you here.”
The fact that she’d called him Anderson, instead of Master Anderson, was indicative of his diminished status within the club. “Mistress Faith.”
“I was led to believe you were resigning your membership. You declined to participate in our checklist game.”
Caden raised a brow, still encased in the icy calm. “I had no need of your game.”
“Participation was mandatory.”
“I was shot.”
It wasn’t what Caden had meant to say, but it had the desired effect. She looked taken aback. “Oh, dear. Come to the library. We’ll have a drink and chat.”
“I need to scene.”
“Where is Darling?”
“Darling is gone.”
Mistress Faith’s face drained of color. “What happened? What did you—”
She stopped herself, but Caden knew how she’d wanted to end that sentence. Wanted to ask him what he’d done to her. It probably wouldn’t be an unfair question either.
“She’s no longer part of the scene. No longer Darling.”
Membership at the club was exclusive and expensive, and club members had to fill out more paperwork than government contractors did, so Mistress Faith, as one of the overseers, knew that Darling wasn’t Rose’s real name, and would understand the implications.
“Oh, that’s…that’s a shock, to be honest. The two of you were so perfectly matched.”
They were perfectly matched because they’d been raised to be that way. Because they were both broken and hurting in exactly the same way. Rose had gotten out, found happiness, found love. She deserved all that and more.
“I know it’s not a big night,” he said, “but is there anyone around?”
“A fair number. We have regulars who prefer to play on the quieter weekdays instead of the weekend.”
“I’ll change and find something to use for the night.” He inclined his head to her.
Mistress Faith raised her hand to stop him. She was frowning, but wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at something behind him. He turned to see the bank of monitors beside the entrance doors. They were encased in a heavy, carved armoire with doors that could be closed to hide the screens and maintain the early Spanish adobe-style architecture of the estate.
One of the screens showed a Porsche coming up the drive. The monitor below showed the name of the member who had just entered the grounds.
Caden Anderson.
That wasn’t just a Porsche. It was his Porsche.
“Damn them,” he snarled, the ice cracking.
“Since you’re here, who is in that car?”
“They’re my…my…” There was no rule that prevented members of the Trinity Masters from living openly as a triad, as long as they didn’t mention the society as part of why they were living an alternative lifestyle. Still, he didn’t know how to describe them.
“Master Anderson, who is coming to my club?” Her voice was velvet-covered steel.
“They’re my partners,” he blurted out. “After Darling…left…I decided to try something else.”
“Polyamory? Two women isn’t a bad idea for you.”
He shook his head. “One man, one woman.”
“Oh.” She paused, then said, “I think that’s lovely, and I like that for you. Once they’re advanced enough, if they meet our criteria, I’ll help you return to full member status and have them added.”
“They’re not subs.”
“You haven’t collared them?”
“I mean they don’t know anything about BDSM except what they’ve learned from porn or the Internet.”
“Oh dear.”
“They followed me. Damn it.” He stepped closer to the monitors, watching as they parked beside his Jag and got out, each of them looking around curiously. His heart clenched—and he was gripped by the urge to run out there and kiss them, then get in the car and drive away forever.
“It won’t work. We won’t work. They don’t understand who I am. How cruel I can be. They don’t know the things I dream of ordering them to do. How sometimes I plan out their training. Because that’s all I know.” His words were as much for himself as for Mistress Faith.
He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. He’d lived in a fantasy long enough. It was time to make them understand.
He turned to face the overseer. “I need a favor.”
“And what is that?”
“I need you to let them in. Let them see. After that, after tonight, I won’t ever come back.”
“We do not allow guests.”
“You said yourself there’s almost no one here. We’ll say they’re potential members. I need them to know who I am.”
“If they make you happy, don’t destroy it. BDSM is not a weapon.”
“No, but I am.”
Mistress Faith looked at him, then sighed. “Xavier is here. I’ll have him help you bring them in. I’ll clear everyone from one of the courtyards, except those willing to put on a show. They stay hooded.”
“I need a sub, someone to scene with.”
“Not in the mood you’re in now. Not without extensive negotiation, and I’m not giving you that kind of time. You can stay until sunrise. After that, you leave, and you don’t return without first talking to myself or Master Mikel.”
Caden nodded. “Fine.”
“I’ll get Xavier.”
Caden turned and watched as Tess and Isaiah tentatively walked through the parking lot and then the squat-palm-lined path up to the front doors.
* * *
“He’s here. Ring again.”
A mask covered his whole head and neck except for his mouth, lower cheeks and chin. He was bare-chested and wore leather pants. A long, coiled whip hung from a clip on his belt.
Isaiah stepped in front of Tess. “Uh, hi. We’re looking for Caden Anderson.”
The masked man slowly tipped his head to the side, as if in question.
“We know he’s here.” Isaiah’s voice remained strong, which was pretty damn impressive.
“He’s here,” Mask said. “If you want to enter, if you want to see him, you’ll obey.”
“Obey you? Fat chance,” Tess said, peering over Isaiah’s shoulder. “Just text him, Isaiah. Tell Caden we’re here.”
Mask continued, “If you want to enter Las Palmas Obscuras, you must understand where you are.”
“And where are we?” Tess asked.
A woman appeared beside the man. She was gorgeous, intimidatingly so, with soft red curls and the sort of classic European beauty that was found in the portraits hanging on the walls of galleries. She was soft to Mask’s hardness, and wore leather and lace underwear and a sheer teddy that hit the tops of her thighs. It did nothing to hide the piercings in her nipples. There were leather cuffs on her wrists and ankles and a gold collar around her neck.
She smiled at them. “Welcome to the most exclusive BDSM club in Southern California.”
Oh.
Ohhh.
Oh shit.
“Um,” Isaiah cleared his throat. “Maybe you could just tell Caden we’re here.”
“Oh no,” the girl said. “If you come in, you have to call him Master Anderson. You’re not members, but he arranged for you to have special one-night passes.”
“We’ll just wait for him out here,” Isaiah said stiffly.
“Wait.” Tess stepped around in front of him. “Is he okay? He must know we’re here if he arranged for us to get passes. What did he say?”