Private Dancer (Club Volare Book 12)

by Chloe Cox

  Cole reached his hand down, and Bette took it. The warmth of her fingers unspooled something in his chest. He couldn’t know she was alive, well, warm, safe until he touched her. Couldn’t know it in his body.

  Briefly, she took his hand and pressed it against her cheek, brushed her lips against it.

  Cole glanced down. Everything was going to be ok.

  And then he saw it.

  In the periphery of his vision, Duvall moved. Clumsily, jerkily, an undisciplined motion made obvious by a tweaked out nervous system. But a motion.

  Duvall was reaching for something on his ankle.

  Adrenaline surged as Duvall’s coked up coordination slowed to a crawl in Cole’s eyes. Cole took two big strides and swung, his heavy right hand meeting Duvall’s delicate jaw right on the sweet spot with a sharp crack. Cole’s fist kept flying, following the arc of the punch all the way to the bottom, where he grabbed the tiny .22 strapped to Duvall’s ankle. Cole came back up with his own weapon in his left hand, and Duvall’s .22 in his right.

  Duvall didn’t come back up.

  For a second, Cole stared at Mark Duvall, lying unconscious on his own bedroom floor. It had felt good to hit him. Too good. This couldn’t be his case. Cole didn’t care if he was the man to break Duvall’s empire anymore.

  He was the man who was going to take Bette Liffey as his, instead.

  Slowly, he turned to see her. She was watching him. Cole met her eyes and held them. Watched them calm down, watched them get big, watched them start to brim with tears. For a second it was just the two of them in that moment, in all of time.

  “Jesus Christ,” Holt said from the doorway. “Between this and the guy out in the hall it’s like a bear came through here.”

  “Call it in,” Cole said. “I’m off the case.”

  And without another word, he walked to Bette and took her in his arms.

  34

  Well…it had been a day, that was for sure.

  Bette had no idea how long it took the police to arrive. She’d just let go, once Cole had her in his arms. She knew she’d cried. She knew it probably took a long time. She knew, vaguely, that Holt was calling people he personally knew, all of them cops and law enforcement who wouldn’t be caught dead working for someone like Mark. And she knew she’d probably be working through the aftermath of this entire terrible situation for a long, long time.

  But mostly she was just in Cole’s arms. It was a good place to be.

  Her mind kept going back to the moment when Cole had burst through the door. The moment she knew she’d be safe. And the moment before that, when she realized she’d miscalculated with Mark, right after he’d hit her.

  He had never hit her, before. Not because he wasn’t mean or abusive, but because he thought he was above it. And once Mark crossed that line, Bette didn’t know where else he would go.

  Bette had thought she was going to die.

  And then lot of things had happened all at once.

  She felt her weight against her wrist as she pushed herself up off the ground, where Mark had put her with one backhanded blow that she had not been expecting. She felt something fierce and feral rise in her, something that was determined to live. She heard another part of her, a little voice at the back of her head, that knew the odds weren’t in her favor.

  The next moment stretched out endlessly, and in it she’d seen so many things with clarity. She’d seen Lizzie, already such a light in the world. She’d seen her own past, and how it had shaped her present. And she’d seen Cole.

  She’d seen that the only time she’d ever felt like her whole self was with Spencer Cole.

  If she’d had more time, she might have laughed. The man she’d hidden her identity from was the only person she could be herself with. It didn’t matter that it had only been a couple of months, it didn’t matter that she didn’t know everything about him. It didn’t matter that she was terrified of falling in love with him and had done it anyway. He let her be who she was.

  And then Cole had appeared, like a force of nature, and Bette saw that he loved her enough to try to save her.

  It was the first time she’d really felt the weight of someone else’s love.

  The warmth of it.

  The way it felt soft, all over.

  The way it felt safe.

  And then of course Mark had pulled a freaking gun, like a slime bag, and Bette had been yanked back to real time.

  Cole had put her ex down, Holt had shown up, and things quickly became very official. But through it all, Bette couldn’t let go of him. Cole had wrapped his arms around her and she’d breathed him in, great, unembarrassed gulps, squeezing her body against him, needing to feel the realness of him. The sureness. He felt like a future.

  When the police finally did arrive, Cole refused to be separated from her.

  “Not until her lawyer gets here,” he’d grunted, and stared at the detective until the detective had shrugged, and walked away.

  “My lawyer’s all the way up near Baton Rouge,” she’d said. “I haven’t even called him. And this isn’t really, um, his area of expertise.”

  “You have a new lawyer, if you want her,” Cole said, smiling down at her. “Pro bono.”

  Then he’d kissed her on the top of the head.

  What he meant by that, apparently, was that one of Club Volare’s powerful members was Rose Lawson, a partner at one of the biggest—and most expensive—law firms in Louisiana. And that she was insisting on representing Bette in this investigation, in any other criminal investigations that might result from the first investigation, and in her custody dispute.

  “Well, I’ll second chair that,” Rose said, with mild but clear distaste for the idea of being second-chair anything. “I’ll get one of our family law specialists to help, obviously.”

  Bette just stared at her like a dummy.

  To be fair, Bette wasn’t the only one. Rose was the most intimidating woman Bette had ever encountered, and judging by the expressions on a few of the male uniforms who were milling about Mark’s house, she was the most intimidating woman most people ever encountered. She looked like a Valkyrie, and when she spoke the men around her actually listened. It was like she had a superpower.

  And if a Valkyrie wanted to defend her, Bette wasn’t going to argue.

  “Good,” Rose said, as though she could read Bette’s mind. “I’ll talk to the officer in command, and you two will be allowed to go home to get a good night’s rest. We’ll go over what happened in the morning, and you can give your statements in the afternoon.”

  Then Rose studied her, the same way Cole might have. Bette’s Valkyrie lawyer was definitely a Domme.

  “Or not,” she said. “What do you prefer, Bette?”

  “I want to get it over with,” she said. “I want to be able to stop thinking about this as soon as freaking possible. And I want to be able to tell Lizzie it will all be ok.”

  At that, Bette’s voice broke. Goddammit. It was like once the danger was actually passed, her body had the luxury of truly feeling all the fear and stress she’d been repressing. Stupid body.

  Rose looked from Bette to Cole, and Cole’s arms tightened around her shoulders.

  “I’ll meet you at the station,” Rose said finally. “Connor Kelly will drive you. It will give him a chance to talk to Cole.”

  Bette nodded as a tall, broad wall of muscle appeared out of seemingly nowhere. She had no idea who Connor Kelly was, but if looks were anything to go by, he was a terrifyingly tattooed blue-eyed Boston Irish military heavyweight MMA champion spy of the world. In reality he was probably another investigator working for Rose’s firm, but Bette liked her version better. And judging by the looks he exchanged with Cole on the way out to the car, the man was also a Dom who knew when to give a Dom and sub some privacy.

  Cole didn’t break contact, all the way to the car. He opened the door to a very fancy town car and ushered Bette inside, his every gesture watchful, protective. Maybe in different circ
umstances it would feel over the top, but right now, at the moment, it was perfect. He was perfect.

  He locked eyes with her, for a moment, standing over her while she sat in the car. Wordlessly, Bette reached for his hand, and he gave it. Then he slid into the car, put his arm around her, and squeezed her tight.

  This.

  This was what she’d been missing for so, so long. For her entire life, possibly.

  Safety. Love. A port in the storm. Someone she could trust with her whole body, and her whole heart. Someone who did what they said they’d do, and meant what they said. A good man.

  Bette sighed, and let herself feel the love she had for this man, blooming warm in her chest. It was followed by a kind of grief, the grief of relief, of uncertainty, and she let that come too. She was too tired to fight her own damn feelings anymore. They always won anyway.

  “Thank you,” she murmured as the car they were in slowed to a stop, just in front of what looked like a police building.

  She felt Cole’s frown more than saw it, and she looked up at him. He was studying her again, in that Dom way.

  And suddenly Bette realized she wanted to see that look for the rest of her life.

  Could this really be happening?

  Cole was still studying her when the door behind him opened, Connor Kelly standing outside it like the world’s most Dominant bodyguard. It was time.

  She willed herself to say it. But she wasn’t brave, like a Dom.

  Instead, Cole threaded his hand through her hair at the back of her neck and leaned in to kiss her, hard, hungry, quick. The promise of more. So much more.

  “You will be fine,” he said when he let her go, his voice rough and low, his eyes locked on hers. “Tell Rose the truth, and do what she tells you. That is an order. Understood?”

  Bette smiled slowly.

  “Yes,” she said. “Sir.”

  After that, it was basically a whirlwind.

  She told Rose her story, as much as she could remember, in a windowless room with a fluorescent light that was probably designed to intimidate the hell out of suspects and witnesses alike, and then she answered the cops’ questions like Rose told her to, over and over again. They turned out to be very impressed with the recording Bette had made of Faulkner, which had apparently automatically backed up to her iCloud account. Bette had never felt such love for a piece of modern technology before. Meanwhile, Faulkner had already been picked up, and he’d already “rolled” on Mark, which meant it was only a matter of time before they got Mark and everyone else involved.

  That, and Rose said she thought she could have Lizzie back home within the month.

  Within the month!

  She was freaking dizzy with joy. Bette would still have to answer more questions as they came up, or as she remembered stuff, but it all…it all looked like it was going to work out.

  So of course Bette was nervous, watching the cops leave the room. It took her only a second to figure out why. Maybe it was the way Rose was looking at her that did it.

  “Is there anything you need to ask me, Bette?” Rose said.

  Freaking Doms.

  Bette sucked in a breath, and forced out the words.

  “Why are you so nice to me?” she said. “When you know why I came to Club Volare. What I was supposed to do.”

  Just saying the words lifted a weight off her shoulders, but Bette knew that Rose wasn’t really the person she wanted to ask. She wanted to ask Cole. It’s just that she was kind of a wimp.

  But this time it was Rose who fixed her with that Dom look, turning towards her, recrossing her legs.

  “You were coerced, Bette,” she said. “Lots of us have been in that situation. We all remember how it feels. You put yourself at risk to try to save us and your family, without ever asking for help. That’s where you screwed up, and that’s what you’ll be disciplined for.”

  She smiled then, an eyebrow raised.

  “At least, if I were to have anything to do with it,” she said. “But I’m not your Dom. There is one thing you need to understand, Bette.”

  “What’s that?” Bette choked out.

  “Your family is bigger now,” Rose said, standing up.

  Bette swallowed. Did she mean Cole? Or…all of Club Volare?

  She was so used to offers of love or friendship being conditional, costing her something. Maybe that was why she was afraid to ask for help, or afraid to tell Cole the truth. Whatever it was, she would have to learn to get over it if she wanted to teach Lizzie how to accept love when it was genuinely offered.

  And that made things simple.

  “Thank you,” Bette said. “But I have to know—what will happen to Cole? I know he broke a bunch of laws for me. He wasn’t even supposed to be on this case.”

  This time, Rose raised the other eyebrow.

  “You’re going to have to ask him, Bette.”

  Cole paced.

  He never liked zoos. Thought they were sad. But the big cats, they always managed to keep something of their dignity, even in a zoo. It was always the panthers that would get up, when they saw you coming, and pace. Pace in a way that let you know, in no uncertain terms, that they were still at the top of the food chain, and you were just a weird, hairless Happy Meal on legs.

  He felt like one of those panthers now.

  Everyone and anyone who kept him from Bette Liffey was on goddamn notice. It had ceased to matter that they were just doing their jobs. Cole was losing his patience.

  As a Dom, it was a novel experience. As a man…

  He had to keep his mind occupied. He did another lap of the police bullpen, not caring that he was starting to make the inhabitants a little uneasy. Cole had finished his own interview a while ago, and from the way the detectives who pulled the case looked at him, he knew he was on thin ice. He would be on even thinner ice with the Bureau. In fact, he was pretty much done with the bureau. Possibly with law enforcement. It no longer suited him.

  He had an offer with Holt’s high end security firm. He expected more to come in. It was the kind of job where you had better hours, much better pay, and less stress. The kind of job you wanted if you had a family.

  Family.

  Cole stopped his pacing right in front of a half-drunk, half-unconscious red-haired man who was handcuffed to a chair next to a detective’s desk, slumped over in a denim jacket, body twisted where his hand was cuffed. Cole had been like this without even knowing it. In a kind of frozen stupor, not really living. And then Bette had showed up.

  The scariest moment of his life had been right before he’d busted through that door. He’d known he loved her, but Cole now thought he’d almost walled himself off from that, too. Bette brought warmth and color into the world, but he had only allowed himself a little bit at a time, still keeping things to himself, still being the damn stereotype of a strong and silent Dom. What a waste.

  The second he heard her get hit, the second he thought he might be too late, that spark she ignited inside him had roared to life.

  And now that she was safe, it was all he had to think about.

  He knew all the reasons Bette was wary, all the reasons most people would be skeptical. It was too fast, they didn’t really know each other yet, she had a kid. None of it mattered to him.

  Hell, with his ex-wife, everything had looked good on paper. They’d been together the right amount of time, they’d lived together first, they knew everything there was to know. There sure as hell hadn’t been any fake identities, blackmail attempts, or criminal conspiracies. And they’d loved each other, for a time.

  But there wasn’t this knowing. This feeling, when he looked in her eyes, that they got each other, knew each other, saw each other, down to the core. That whatever the odds, they were two people on this planet tuned to the exact same frequency. And now that Cole knew what that was like, he could never go back. Bette was it for him.

  More than that. For a long time, Cole thought he knew what his family would look like. He’d been wrong. Club
Volare had tried to show him that, but it hadn’t gotten through his stubborn skull until Bette appeared.

  Not until Lizzie showed him that house, and drew a gargoyle on top.

  He still didn’t know exactly what his family would look like in the long run. But Spencer Cole was pretty damn sure he had found it. He would give Bette and Lizzie all the time and space they needed. But he was their man.

  “’S bright.”

  Cole looked down. The red-haired drunk was straightening, trying to stretch, squinting into the fluorescent lights.

  “Bad night?” Cole said.

  The man blinked hard, several times, until he thought better of it and just shut his eyes.

  “’S there any other kind?” he said.

  “Yeah,” Cole said. “There is. You getting locked up?”

  The man shook his head. “Not this time.”

  Cole searched his pockets, found one of Charlene Bastien’s cards. She was a sub over at the club, and she ran a charity, mostly for kids. But they had work for adults, too. Charlene never turned anyone away.

  Cole tossed him the card, and a twenty.

  “Get cleaned up, get breakfast,” he said. “And go there.”

  The man opened his eyes in surprise, and Cole just shrugged. If Cole was getting a second chance, he might as well pay it forward.

  And it was just then that his second chance made her entrance.

  If you could call it an entrance. Cole did. Bette walking into any room would be a freaking entrance, even this stuffy, smelly, no sunlight-having bullpen.

  Bette was done with her interview. Looking around. Looking for him. She wasn’t going to have to look far ever again.

  When she finally locked eyes with him, he was about five feet away, and moving towards her. He saw it all in her eyes, then.

  It broke his heart.

  Bette still felt guilty. Felt responsible. Felt like it was all her fault. He could see in the way she held herself, her arms crossed, her hands on her elbows, she was wary. Expecting more loss.

  Cole stopped just short. Cut to the chase.