The Connaghers Series Boxed Set

by Joely Sue Burkhart

  “We’re thinking it could be set up very much like Top sub, but with all pony themes and challenges. If you’re interested, of course.”

  “Interested? You’d have to horsewhip me to make me leave now. What are you thinking it’ll be called?”

  She moved the next board up. A woman in a Victorian riding habit stood by a man easily recognized as Patrick, dressed in jodhpurs, with his famous whip whirling around the pair like a frame. “Pony Games.”

  “Thank you.” Patrick cleared his throat and nodded vigorously. “It’s perfect. Yes. Let me know what you need.”

  The man actually looked like he was near tears, and Mal suddenly found herself a little watery too. She knew what it felt like to be accepted, after a lifetime of never feeling like you fit in, that you were different, odd, strange. A twinge of guilt made her wince. She’d teased Patrick about his pony gear on the last show, all in good humor, but she hadn’t realized how important it was to him.

  “You showed us that there’s a strong interest in our viewers for more pony play.” Victor even stood and leaned across the table to offer his hand. “So thank you, Patrick. I’m looking forward to seeing what else you can teach us.”

  Patrick shook his hand sheepishly. “I’m sure that most of those interested viewers are probably more shocked and titillated than truly interested in my stable, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

  Mal leaned closer to him and squeezed his arm lightly. “So what if they are? Most of our viewers start out that way, watching for the shock value. But our shows speak to the silent truths in all humans, and eventually, we start to unbury something they never understood about themselves.”

  Victor sat back down. “You’ve always claimed that everybody is on the kink scale, whether they know it or not.”

  “Like that cop,” Shiloh added. “Nobody would look at him and think submissive.”

  But they hadn’t seen Colby last night. So needy and hungry. He might not think he was a submissive, but he’d sure been starved for a woman with her kind of power. Not ready to talk about him yet with anyone, she shrugged and gave them a hopefully mysterious smile. “What’s our ideas for a new season of Top sub?”

  Victor’s eyes narrowed a moment, not fooled in the least by her changing the subject, but he wouldn’t force a conversation. Especially in front of people outside of their immediate circle. He gave a nod to Shiloh and she set the Pony Games storyboard aside.

  “I promised Brandon that we’d do something for the queer folks in the scene,” he said. “I’d like to invite at least one homosexual dominant for the next season. Anyone have a recommendation?”

  Ryan nodded. “I’ve got several people in mind, though I haven’t approached them yet. I’m assuming you’ll do the same sort of set up with masks and secret identities? This is Texas after all, and you’re going to have a lot of die-hard pissed-off conservatives up in arms if you’re not careful.”

  “Of course,” Shiloh said. “I know all too well how much media attention we drew last season, though V played it up and welcomed it.”

  “We’ll take extra care to protect everybody’s identities,” Victor said. “The point of the show isn’t how gays do BDSM differently. It’s to be inclusive, but not make a big deal about it. We’ll have dominants and submissives who just happen to be attracted to the opposite sex. Everything else on the playing field is the same.”

  “He’s right, though,” Mal added. “How many hate letters did we get last year because I was playing with a white submissive?”

  Just thinking about those nasty letters made her stomach hurt. So much hate in the world. So much misery. What did it matter to anyone who anyone else dated or loved? She’d never understand it.

  “Let them write us.” Victor smiled his grim reaper smile—fully dominant, confident, and welcoming any battle. The kind of look a general would give his hopelessly outnumbered troops as he led them to glorious victory. Everyone at VCONN would charge into the fray with confidence they’d win, just because of his leadership. “Let them call. Or even protest out front. I welcome it. The more attention we bring to issues like this, the better. It’s the fucking twenty first century and people need to get over this petty shit. I want interracial and same-sex couples and we’re going to be in their face doing what we do best. We won’t play to any racial stereotypes or flinch from the truth. This is what we are. Get over it.”

  “Amen,” Patrick said.

  “We do have to be smart and careful, though.” Shiloh set up three story boards: last season’s silhouette of her at Victor’s feet, another with an obviously male-male pair, and the last with two women. “We don’t want to advertise only one or the other, while making it clear at the same time that we are inclusive and there are heterosexual and homosexual couples involved. What I’m thinking is that we start with last season’s for recognition, but then flash through all three.”

  “Maybe with a large question mark and our tag line,” Mal said. “’Who will be this year’s top sub?’”

  “Exactly. That way we’re making it clear before anyone turns on the show that anything’s game.”

  “Sounds good.” Victor leaned back in his chair. “So. Two new shows. We need two producers. Mal, which do you want?”

  With that simple question, he reiterated all over again why she loved working for and with him. It would have been easy for a take-charge boss to simply assign roles to each show as he saw fit. The second season was definitely going to need a confident, strong leader with a clear vision. Someone not afraid to take risks, but also open to others’ advice and sensitive to issues and the needs of people used to being portrayed badly by media. He could have demanded his second-in-charge take the show to be sure it was handled correctly. Or he could have assumed his fiancée was the best choice, because the show was her idea in the first place. Instead, he made no assumptions and fully trusted both of the women employed by him to make the smart, best decisions for their shows.

  Mal deliberately didn’t answer right away. She looked at the three story boards and let ideas for the show bubble up in her mind. It’d be a fun show, for sure. She could participate again if she wanted—though it’d probably be better just to produce the show and concentrate on making sure everyone was well protected and heard as the show progressed. The show had already set records and this season could easily break those viewing records again. There’d be interviews and plenty of opportunities to be in the spotlight and build her career, both on and off the set.

  Pony Games, on the other hand, was brand new and untried. It had difficulties to work through but was an unknown. Lots of opportunities for new games and exploration of new issues. Many of which would be uncomfortable for her personally. She didn’t fully understand the kink and would really need to push herself and widen her boundaries to make sure the show received the best opportunity to succeed. Which was exactly why she answered, “I’ll take Pony Games.”

  Victor nodded. “Good. I’ll take lead on Top sub with Shiloh as assistant producer. Ryan and Patrick, if you could get us the list of candidates for each show, we’ll start interviewing and prepare contracts. Any questions?”

  Everyone stood and made small talk as they headed out. Shiloh was beaming with excitement and for good reason. Assistant producer was a huge opportunity for her. Some people might snip that she’d only gotten the chance because she was in the boss’s bed, but she’d easily prove them all wrong. She’d done a fantastic job last season and Mal didn’t have any doubts she’d be able to handle the new show. Shiloh paused at the door, unconsciously checking with her dominant to see if he had a command before leaving.

  “That might be her only difficulty,” Mal said softly as the door shut.

  “Yeah. Most of the time it’s not an issue for us, but it does take work to separate out boss/employee from dominant/submissive sometimes.”

  “It’s good work though.”

  She’d tried to keep the wistful tone out of her voice, but by the way his intent gaz
e settled on her, she hadn’t been successful. “You were supposed to see the cop last night, right? How’d that go?”

  “Good. Great, actually.”

  She knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t push for details. Though he’d open the door and invite her in if she wanted to go there. “No problems?”

  “Oh he has plenty of problems. That’s why he’s interested. Nothing I can’t handle, though.”

  “Former soldier, now cop. I can imagine he has a lot of baggage.”

  “He’s had a good family life, which helps. I mean he wasn’t abandoned, doesn’t have mommy or daddy issues. But leaving the military has definitely left a void that he hasn’t figured out how to fill yet.”

  “PTSD?”

  She nodded. “Not as bad as it could be, but it’s definitely affecting him.”

  “Don’t try to fix all that shit by yourself. He needs to be seeing a therapist. I don’t have to tell you that those issues can seep out during a scene and turn something sexy into something scary in a hurry.”

  Of course Victor would be protective of her. “He’s been seeing someone and I’ll be careful. Nothing too heavy. Like Shiloh said, he doesn’t seem to be fully submissive.”

  “That’s exactly my worry. At some point, you’re going to tell him to do something and he’s not going to want to do it. If his head’s not right, you could get hurt.”

  “He’d never hurt me or any woman for that matter. I don’t think it’s in him.”

  Grim lines deepened around Victor’s mouth. “You can’t really know one way or the other until it’s too late. If he feels trapped, he might strike out. His training will take over and he’ll lose himself in the battle. He might feel terrible later, but that doesn’t change you hurt, in the hospital, or worse, with his kind of training. I’m pretty sure Elias said he was some kind of Special Forces.”

  “Marines, but I’m really not worried.” That didn’t change the tight, grim lines on Victor’s mouth, so she softly replied, “he needs help, V. He’s desperate for help.”

  “And you were able to help him last night?”

  She let her eyes simmer, her voice going husky. “Oh yeah.”

  Some of the tightness in his shoulders eased and he huffed out a laugh. “The Mistress of Dallas strikes again.”

  “Let’s see if the Mistress of Dallas can get into pony shit now.”

  Victor laughed again as she stood and they moved toward the door. “I was hoping you’d pick Pony Games for that very reason. Maybe you’ll get the cop into one of those tails.”

  She laughed too but his words lingered long after they split ways and headed to their individual offices. For all she knew, Colby might be into pony play. He wouldn’t know either until he saw it. Or he might like humiliation play. Or punishment. Or puppy play. Who the hell knew? That was part of the fun playing with a new-to-the-scene submissive.

  Exploration was the name of the game. As long as he trusted her to lead the way.

  9

  Standing over a tarp-covered body in the street, all Colby could think about was Mal. If he closed his eyes, he could see the luminous glow of her skin against that golden dress she’d worn. He could smell the perfume of her skin. Feel the strength in her hands, the lush rumble of her voice telling him what to do next. He hadn’t realized what a… comfort that could be. A relief.

  So better than where he was stuck right now.

  “Reyes and Wade just rolled to the scene,” Elias was saying on the phone to dispatch. “Looks like another cartel hit. Yeah. We got it.”

  We got it. Which meant he’d be out all night canvasing the street, trying to find anyone brave enough to describe the car or the gunmen who’d mowed down this poor bastard in broad daylight. He’d lain in the street for hours before anyone had even called 911. Just when they were getting close. Again. Witness dead in the gutter.

  So instead of heading home for a shower and maybe a late dinner with Mal, he’d be guzzling coffee, eating shit out of a paper bag, and cranking out paperwork most of the night. Great.

  Elias hung up and immediately made another call. “Hey, babe. Yeah, another late one.”

  A surge of jealousy took Colby’s breath away and he actually turned and walked back up the street a ways under the guise of searching through the refuse for clues. He wanted someone to call. Someone who’d worry whether he came home or not. Would Mal want a call from him? Would she be surprised if he called? Or glad?

  Before he could talk himself out of it, he called her number. Daylight was fading fast. Coroner would need the big lights to take the initial pictures.

  “Detective Wade.” The husky timbre of her voice was like a punch in his gut. “I didn’t know if you’d have the balls to call me back or not.”

  Despite the frustration of yet another solid lead against the drug cartel going cold, he had to laugh. “Oh I got the balls all right. Thought I showed you that last night.”

  “You showed me a lot last night, sugar. The question is, whether you’ll let me explore some more.”

  He glanced over his shoulder to check on his partner. Elias was still on the phone, so Colby kept walking, slowly searching through empty beer battles and musty newspapers for anything useful. “Yeah, I’d like that. I’d like that a lot, actually. But I’m going to be working late tonight.”

  “All night?”

  He blew out a sigh. “Yeah, probably.”

  “Is that an often occurrence for you, detective? Working all day, and then all night too?”

  Resignation tightened his throat. He’d seen if often enough with the other cops. Hell, even Elias. Busted relationships, angry wives and girlfriends. The stress and worry gnawing away any love they’d been able to nurture. Better that Mal knew what his life was like now and move on, than be disappointed. “More often than not.”

  “I’m not happy about that, detective.”

  He nodded and blew out a breath. “Figured as much.”

  She was quiet a moment. Long enough that he flashed through memories of last night again. The challenge in her eyes. The light. The insane sense of immediate trust he’d felt with her. He could almost taste that cobbler and ached to hear her tell him to eat every bite again. Not that he needed the command, now. He just wanted to hear it.

  “I guess I can’t punish you for things out of your control.”

  His ears rang a moment and he wasn’t sure if he’d heard her correctly. “Ma’am?”

  She laughed, that husky slide of velvet that made him shiver. “Oh there you go again, detective, talking so sweetly and politely. That’s not fair if you’re not even going to come see me tonight. If I’m going to punish you for something, it’ll be because you deliberately did something to earn it. Not because you had to stay out late for your job.”

  “I guess you’ll never have cause to do that, then.” He deliberately kept his words vague in case Elias was listening with half an ear.

  “I wouldn’t say that at all, sugar. You’d be surprised what a desperate man will do when he needs a little attention.”

  The way she said attention sent shivers running up and down his spine again. The Mistress’s unwavering, intense attention. He could only imagine what a force of nature that would be like.

  “Why are you having to stay out all night, if you can tell me?”

  “Body.” He kept his response vague, but she’d be able to guess enough.

  “Are you safe?” Her voice sharpened.

  He couldn’t answer right away, too moved by the concern in her voice. “No worries. Not tonight.”

  “We’ll have to set up some kind of code word for when you’re going to be in danger. That way I won’t worry about you—until it’s time to worry.”

  He heard footsteps coming behind him, so he smiled and put some cockiness back into his voice. “Don’t you worry about me none, ma’am.”

  “Call me when you’re done. I don’t care what time it is. I want to know when you’re home. That’s an order, detective.”


  “Yes, ma’am, I will.” He hung up and turned to face his partner. In the fading light, he didn’t need to see Elias’s face to know curiosity would be eating him alive. “You want to split up and hit this faster?”

  “Sure,” Elias replied slowly. “You take the north side, I’ll take the south. Thirty minutes. Then meet back here.”

  “You and I both know that we won’t find any witnesses.”

  “But we’ve got to check that box on the report anyway.” Elias hesitated, not walking away to start their work yet. “You called Mal?”

  Colby shrugged, playing it off. “Didn’t want her to think I was blowing her off.”

  Elias patted his pockets until he found a pack of gum. A few months ago, he’d have pulled out a pack of cigarettes, but Vicki had put a stop to that. “What did you tell her you’d do?”

  Colby flashed that cocky grin again and headed for his side of the street of rundown buildings. “None of your business.”

  Elias grunted with disgust. “Thank God.”

  It was after four in the morning before Colby was able to climb into his truck, watching while Elias took off in the opposite direction. His eyes were gritty and hot, but he felt wide awake. Just the promise of calling Mal had kept him going through what seemed like an endless losing battle. Junkies too high to know what year it was, terrified immigrants afraid of getting hauled off for deportation, or people too poor to live anywhere else than across the street from a known drug house. None of them had seen a thing. Naturally.

  He held the phone to his ear, counting the rings. She picked up on the third, her voice thick with sleep. “Colby?”

  “Yeah, it’s me. I’m done.”

  Sheets rustled, and he could picture her lying there on her pillows. “You okay?”

  “Sure. Just tired.” In more ways than one.

  “Come over. If you want.”

  “Ah, I’d love to, but I don’t want you to have to get up or anything.”