by Anya Summers
“Appreciate it.” He stared at her through his aviators and she wished for the hundredth time his eyes were visible.
Flustered more than a little bit, she stuttered and stood up from her seat. “Thanks for the brats. I need to get ready for work tonight at the club. See you around.”
With the beer bottle in her hand, she scurried back over to her place, trying to make it look like she wasn’t running away from him and the magnetic pull she always felt whenever they were around each other. She headed inside, where she planned to take a very cold shower before her shift tonight.
Chapter 5
His first objective had been achieved. If he had to use his injury to do it, gain her trust, then so be it. She was a soft touch with one hell of a killer body. The moment they began talking about his injury, her shoulders had relaxed, and the ever-present tension drained out of her.
It had been decided with Agent Carson that Jack would infiltrate her life in a friendship capacity, which he hated doing without giving her a heads up on the situation. But Carson was adamant that Rayna would run if she knew the truth.
Even though Jack now knew her real identity, to him she was Rayna, the tough-as-nails waitress who would stand her ground when pressed. She’d always been skittish around him and had been more at ease with Spencer today than with him. He wondered why.
Jack managed to get about half of the things in the boxes unpacked. His bedroom and the master bath were set, including his nightstand filled with all the supplies he used with subs. The spare room with all the surveillance equipment was running smoothly. He connected the video system to his cell phone. It would notify him of any movement in or around her place when he wasn’t in the surveillance room. And he knew it worked because he tested it by approaching her front porch.
The video feed notified him with a jingle when he spied the headlights on Rayna’s vehicle as she pulled out. Time to go. Jack headed out to the club. He followed roughly an eighth of a mile behind Rayna. He was far enough back in his truck that in the dark, she wouldn’t be able to discern it was him.
He followed her all the way into town that way, even letting a small Mazda get between them, all while keeping her in his sights. She pulled in and parked around back in the well-lit employee parking lot. Normally he would have to go find parking in one of the public parking areas. Often, empty spaces in the public parking areas were difficult to find. Luckily for him, Spencer had provided him with a parking code to use the back employee lot since he had to stick to Rayna like white on rice.
Jack wasn’t brandishing his badge in public. Since Rayna couldn’t know he was there in an official capacity, he kept it hidden in case he needed it. And most of the time, he would never go into the club armed. But these were difference circumstances. Spencer knew he would be carrying for the foreseeable future whenever he attended. He had left his black, loose-fitting tee shirt untucked to hide the waistband holster with his Glock underneath and badge clipped to it.
Once he’d made certain Rayna had entered the club through the employee entrance in the back, Jack exited his Ram truck and followed her in. The back entrance led into the storeroom of the Teton Cowboy. The room was lined with shelves holding dry goods for the restaurant. There was also an elevator entrance that you had to have a keycode for that was used by employees. Regular club goers had to use the front entrance in the Teton Cowboy and take the stairs down. The keycode function was how Spencer kept his employees in the Teton Cowboy—and anyone else, for that matter—from venturing forth into their private club.
Jack rode the elevator down. This was his first time being back at Cuffs & Spurs since getting shot. He’d not been up for the company, too lost in his own misery over the state of his lonely existence to rise to the occasion. The elevator doors swooshed open with a small ding. Jack strode inside, past the men’s and women’s locker rooms and coat rack. He wasn’t taking off his shirt tonight. If he did, folks would get a real surprise.
While this might be an open carry state, Spencer strictly forbade firearms on the premises both here and up in the restaurant. It was early yet in the evening, and a weeknight. Only about a fourth of the tables were occupied. And no one was scening yet in any of the alcoves lining two of the walls. Each one held a different type of BDSM furniture, from saddlehorses to St. Andrew’s Crosses and everything in between. Each alcove also contained a small chest of drawers that carried all manner of single-use butt plugs, cock rings, condoms, packs of lubricant and more. Jack ambled over to one of the bar top height tables near the center of the joint along the outskirts of the couch section. From this vantage point, he would have space to keep his eye on Rayna while maybe catching a scene or two.
The bar itself was a long, glossy lake of golden wood. It was lined with a row of barstools with seats shaped like horse saddles. They were great for disciplining a sub. There were loops at various intervals to attach both wrist and ankle cuffs to and restrain the sub to mete out that punishment, which was especially useful since they no longer had the bull to use as a disciplinary tool, courtesy of Spencer. A few months back, Jack had left one of the private rooms in the back, feeling satisfied and ready for bed, only to find Spencer taking a baseball bat to the thing. Spencer had stepped out of line with Meghan while they were still in the ‘getting to know you’ phase of their relationship and taken out his frustrations with himself on the bull he had used to discipline Meghan earlier that evening.
In the end it had worked out for Spencer, mainly because Meghan loved him and was willing to forgive him for being a moron. Jack had been the one to pull Spencer back from the ledge so he could apologize, before he took out half of the club in his anger.
In Jack’s opinion, intimate relationships and emotions weren’t worth the cost to his soul. Growing up, he had witnessed their destructive power. His father had been an abusive bastard. His mom took the brunt of his angry beatings—not that Jack hadn’t garnered a few backhands, because he had—but she never left his father. She should have. It would have been better for both of them if she had. When Jack looked back, he realized his mother’s love for his father had been like an addiction. She had been addicted to the pain of the manipulative love and stayed in the cycle of abuse. In the end, it had killed her. He had killed her.
Jack had been sixteen when it happened. And his mother’s murder at his father’s hands cast a pall over any potential relationship he might have one day. It was why he needed the club, with its rules and its boundaries. Whatever happened here, stayed here. It didn’t bleed over into the rest of his life. This club gave him an outlet for his sexual needs without impacting the rest of his life. Just the way he preferred it. Or he had, until recently.
“You didn’t tell me you were going to be here tonight.” Rayna’s voice, the sexy alto tenor that always made him think of languid sex in the rain, broke him out of his reverie.
Swiveling his head, he stared into eyes the color of burnt caramel, and his being electrified. He smelled the faintest hint of the sweet amber perfume she wore and that, combined with her barely-there costume made a ball of lust slam his system. His dick swelled against the confines of his jeans and he wondered what her voice sounded like when she came.
It had been a long while since Jack had wanted a woman with such fierce desire. In fact, he couldn’t ever remember being this aroused merely from the scent of a woman.
“Last minute decision. Cabin fever and all.” She’d done something different with her makeup since their dinner together, some trick with her eye makeup that made them appear luminescent.
“Understandable, Sir. What can I get you?” She had a pen gripped in her hand, poised over her black server booklet, and he wanted to give her instructions on the position he would like her in: preferably bent over the nearby sawhorse with her perfectly shaped ass directed his way.
He cleared his throat and said, “Michelob draft and a water.”
“Anything to eat?” She looked at him with a combination of innocence and suspicion
. It was intoxicating.
Jack wouldn’t mind eating her sweet pussy until she screamed his name in ecstasy, but that wasn’t what she would want to hear. Not from him. He shook his head, mainly at the direction of his own thoughts. If all he was going to do was think with his dick, he needed to have Agent Carson put someone else on the case. “No, I’m still full from the brats earlier.”
“Me too. I’ll have those both right out to you.” Rayna moved off and he watched her retreat. She’d been right about the uniforms. The Daisy Duke style jean shorts ended not an inch past the swell of her succulent, heart-shaped bottom. It was an ass that was made for discipline, a few hard swats of a palm or the firmness of a leather paddle.
He shook his head and mentally berated himself.
Get a hold of yourself, detective.
He was only here to keep an eye on Rayna, nothing more. If he couldn’t pull his act together and calm his dick the fuck down, he would remove himself from the club. He could set up a post outside and wait for her shift to be finished for the evening, then follow her home. It wasn’t like Travino would be able to reach her inside their private club. He wasn’t a member, which meant she was safe here. Inside, at least.
Then why was Jack in here and not staking out the place until she left for the night?
Before he could answer that, a hand trailed over his shoulders and someone took a seat on the stool beside him. He glanced over. Tibby. She wore a pink teddy that was really nothing more than three-inch strips of lace in a suspender style that covered her nipples and met in a vee at her crotch, with a horizontal band of lace around her hips and garters that held pink stockings in place.
Tibby was gorgeous, in a pin-up model way. Taller than average, the sub was always up for a good time. But as beautiful as she was, as many times as they had performed a scene together, there was nothing there. She didn’t even make his dick twitch.
“Tibby. Good to see you.”
“Master Jack, I’m happy you’re back. It’s been forever since you flogged me,” she purred just as Rayna set his beer and water on the table.
“Thanks, Rayna.” He nodded her way and noticed her gaze slide over him to Tibby and back. A flash of anger entered her eyes for a moment before she covered it up. What was that? Was she jealous? Of him with Tibby? That was a new development. Or perhaps he had never allowed himself to pay attention to her because she wouldn’t give him the time of day.
“No problem. Tibby, can I get you anything?” Rayna asked, her smile back in place.
Tibby lifted her drink up, a mojito, if he guessed correctly, judging by the mint leaves. “I have one, honey, but thanks though.”
“Well, holler if either of you need me.” And then Rayna scurried away, leaving them alone.
Tibby took that opportunity and placed her hand on his thigh. Normally, it would have gotten him hard in about two seconds flat and he would be inviting her to scene with him. But ever since he’d been shot, nothing that used to please him seemed to satisfy him any longer. Jack had enjoyed their scenes together. She was a particularly fun and enthusiastic fuck. Yet there weren’t any feelings involved other than friendship. And those feelings were mutual.
Very gently, so he would not hurt her feelings, he gripped her hand and removed it from his thigh. “Tibby, I appreciate the interest, but not tonight.”
She pouted and cocked her head. “Why not? It’s been months since I’ve been with a Master who knows how to flog me precisely the way I need it.”
Fuck. He didn’t have an answer for her. Not a real one, anyway. “My arm is not up to snuff yet, sweetheart. It will be a while longer with PT before I can get back to flogging you.”
Her face dropped the hurt expression and turned sympathetic. “Well, maybe you don’t have to flog me. Maybe we could go into one of the private rooms and I could take care of you instead.”
He appreciated the hell out of Tibby. She was open in her wants and her desire, always willing to try something new and put her faith in whatever a Dom asked of her.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m not there yet in my recovery.”
Tibby eyed him up and down, then nodded in understanding. “Well, when you are ready, Sir, let me know.”
“Derrick’s at the bar, eyeing you. Why don’t you go play with him tonight?” Derrick was a good man, a good Dom, and would do right by Tibby tonight. He was nearly as skilled with the flogger as Jack.
“You don’t mind? I could just sit here with you and keep you company.”
And not have her needs met. Especially when he knew she had to have her sister watch her daughter. No, he wouldn’t keep her here with him. “Go on and have fun with Master Derrick.”
She gave him a flirty little grin, said, “Yes, Sir,” then slid off the bar stool and walked over to Derrick. She didn’t walk so much as gyrate. Jack couldn’t stop himself from looking; he was a guy, and the back of her ensemble was nothing more than a string thong holding everything in place. Derrick lifted his beer in thanks and turned his attention to Tibby.
They’d wear each other out tonight and have fun.
Jack was here for work, not for play. And he didn’t want Tibby, which were words he’d never thought he would utter. Tibby was uncomplicated. She didn’t want anything permanent or resembling a relationship. She never took Doms home with her, in deference to her daughter.
Most of the subs here tonight were attached and had a Dom they were with.
“Can I get you another beer?”
Rayna. She ignited the launch systems in his blood. He’d love to strap her to the sawhorse and take a flogger to her sweet ass cheeks.
“No. I’m good, but thanks for asking.” He’d barely sipped the beer. It was for appearance’s sake only.
Rayna nodded politely and headed off to another one of her tables. She was a good waitress. Always had a smile for everyone, a kind word. And Jack caught more than one Dom staring at her cleavage or her ass as she walked by them or stopped at their table. The urge to beat his chest and challenge each of them for the right to claim her infused him. Where the hell was the sudden possessiveness coming from?
Christ. He never got possessive when it came to subs. Possession meant permanence and that was something he never did. Plus, he didn’t even know if she was a sub. It was not a requirement for the waitresses at the club. Moreover, he had worked plenty of cases before with female victims and not once in all his years with the police department had he ever made it personal or had intimate relations with one.
Jack tore his gaze away from Rayna and redirected his attention to a few of the scenes taking place. He made it seem like he was interested in watching Derrick whip Tibby in the dungeon room, which was basically a stone wall with chains. She was spread eagle against it with her back exposed. Then there was Josh, Derrick’s business partner, who had put Natalie, the cute pixyish redhead, up on the St. Andrew’s Cross and fixed clover clamps to her nipples before he used a double penetration cock ring to screw her brains out.
In reality, Jack knew where Rayna was at all night long. He wasn’t going to be able to do this out in the open each night. It would raise suspicion and he might end up looking like he was stalking her. But this first night, he wanted to get a feel for what her night was like. And a sadistic part of him wanted to know if she was going to end up with one of the Doms by the end of the night. Joe Avery, the District Attorney, with his darker, Native American complexion, his black hair cut short, was present that night at the bar, eyeing Rayna like she was a delectable prize he wanted to win.
Someone else took the stool that Tibby had vacated a while ago. Jack glanced to the side and found Spencer staring at him. They had been friends pretty much their entire lives. They had met in grade school, and that was that. He, Spencer, and Carter were the original bunch. Spencer was dressed like he was about to hold a shareholders meeting in some swanky boardroom in Manhattan.
“Everything go okay after I left today?”
Jack nodded. “Yep. I
t’s all up and running perfectly.”
In fact, he’d gotten an alert of movement near the back deck and had checked the feed while he was sitting there. The family of deer he had spied earlier were out for an evening stroll, since the temperatures had dipped below one hundred, and had been grazing on the grass near the deck.
Spencer pegged him with a stare. “You should scene with one of the subs. Otherwise it will look—”
Jack blew out a frustrated breath. “I know how it’s going to look. And I won’t lead her on. But I need to keep an eye on her.”
“I can take over for a bit. He’s not going to get in here. This is one of the few places in this town short of the police station where she is completely safe. So, Detective, go take a load off and do a scene with someone.”
The problem was, Jack couldn’t feign interest when there was none. He didn’t want any of the submissives who were here. Except one. And he didn’t know if she was a sub. What she was, was his charge to protect.
“Dude, I’m saving you from yourself. Go flog Paige. You don’t have to fuck her if you don’t want. But she’s being mouthy and difficult tonight and could use the discipline.”
“I really don’t care how it looks. I’m here for one reason and one reason only. I have no desire to flog Paige, or anyone else, for that matter. Just leave it and let me do my job, will you?”
A shit-eating grin spread over Spencer’s face. “So that’s how it’s going to be? Not so long ago, if I recall correctly, you swore you would never tie yourself down.”