Everything inside her surged with happiness before her brain turned on and shut it all down.
She retreated a step, then met his eyes. “Ghost. I like you, and if I were at a different point in my life, I wouldn’t hesitate to agree. But right now, I’m not interested in anything other than…than what the kids call quick hookups. What we just did.”
Still holding her shoulders, he studied her, his thoughtful gaze drifting down her body and back.
She realized her arms were around her waist and forced them to her sides. “I’m sorry.”
“I am, too, Valerie,” he said softly. Bending, he kissed her gently. “Drive safe, then.”
* * *
Hell of a night, eh? From finding out about the damage Wrecker had done to the club, discovering the high schoolers, tossing the asshole manager out, and then…
Well, he’d never anticipated how much he’d enjoy being with Valerie.
He’d missed that sense of connection with a submissive during a scene.
With a sigh, he took a seat at the bar. He was ready to head out now, but he should give her time to leave so she wouldn’t feel he was stalking her.
She’d been honest with him—and damn, but he’d appreciated the way she told him how she felt and the straightforward way she met his gaze.
He shouldn’t have been surprised by her rejection. She was divorced, after all, and might even have been burned a time or two in past relationships.
Would she even be interested in a man who was missing part of his leg? Some people couldn’t deal with it. But she hadn’t seemed revolted.
He listened to the harsh dungeon music for a minute, preferring the baroque concerto playing in the Versailles room.
Damn, she’d been beautiful when she’d come.
The bartender noticed him. “Colonel, what can I get you?”
“A beer would be good, Josie. Thank you.” He probably had some of his Scottish ale still there.
She moved to the fridge.
He eyed the row of bottles and notepad on the bar. “What are you working on?”
Handing him a bottle of Dark Island, she scowled. “Last night, I poured Edward a shot from his private bottle of Balvenie 21, and he said his bottle had gone down faster than it should, considering he’d only had one shot from it.”
She pointed at the wall behind her. The sadist’s bottle was barely half full.
“There’s quite a bit more than a shot missing.” And it was an expensive alcohol.
“Exactly.” Her lips quirked. “I happen to know Edward keeps a rather close eye on his Balvenie. I wanted to see if his Balvenie was the only one coming up short, so I’ve been asking anyone else who keeps a bottle here.”
To avoid selling alcohol, drinks were included with a membership. If someone wanted more expensive alcohol, they’d bring in their own, and the bottle would be reserved for their use only.
Josie scowled. “I know Master Z’s bottle of Glenlivet was mostly full, and now it’s down to a quarter. He certainly hasn’t been here drinking it.”
Damn. “Someone’s stealing the private stock.”
“So, it seems. I haven’t been here for a month, so I don’t know what’s been poured. However, none of the Masters were here while I was gone, so their bottles are the ones I’m checking.”
She caught his raised eyebrow and held up his Elijah Craig. Half full.
“I bought it after New Years when everything was on sale.” He tapped his fingers on the bar. “I had, at most, two shots from it.”
Aside from the open house, he hadn’t been in the club at all in February, and not in March until tonight.
The notepad in front of her was almost full, and he frowned. “It seems I have a lot of company.”
“Most of the private bottles are down at least half of what they should be.
Ghost rubbed his neck. Another problem. The club was a mess, dammit. “Who has access to the alcohol when no one is around?”
She frowned. “When the bartender leaves, the club closes, and Wrecker locks up. He said his friends took over bartending while I was gone. Aside from them… Well, it used to be Andrea and her cleaning crew who came in during the week, but she’s proud of her work and keeps a close eye on her people.”
Andrea was Cullen’s submissive, and Josie nailed her sense of honor. “Used to be?”
“Wrecker fired Andrea right after I went on vacation, so we have a new cleaning crew.”
“Fired her?” What the hell? “Did Cullen know?”
How was Wrecker even still alive?
Josie moved her shoulders. “I don’t know who knows what. I only found out because I called her today.”
“Ghost, I’m glad I caught you.” Saxon walked up to the bar. “Z wants a meeting tomorrow afternoon in his office here. You good for then?”
Hell of a way to spend a Sunday. “I’ll be there.” Ghost tilted his head at Josie. “Are you planning to tell Z about the missing alcohol?”
“I hate to add to his problems, but yes. I’ll call sometime before your meeting. He needs to know.”
Ghost rose and clapped Saxon on the arm. “Tomorrow looks to be a regular clusterfuck of a day.”
Chapter Seven
The next afternoon, Ghost shut off his pickup in the Shadowlands parking lot. As he swung his legs out, he was once again grateful it was his left lower leg he’d lost and not his right. At least his driving hadn’t been impacted by the amputation.
No whining, Colonel. Two men had died during the extraction in Afghanistan. He could have stayed at the base like the rear-echelon motherfuckers he’d despised as a young grunt. Not about to be one of the REMFs, he’d jumped on the transport. During the firefight, he’d carried two injured onto the helicopter before getting shot himself.
A foot was a small price to pay for two young men’s lives.
Striding up the sidewalk, he pushed the memory away and grounded himself with the scent of freshly mowed grass. A freshening breeze rustled the palms lining the long drive. The sky was a heady blue with bright white, round clouds. Everything around him felt like a celebration of life.
Sure, his days were more complicated, what with lacking a lower leg. The loss was why he’d left the military after the twenty-two years he’d put in, rather than going for thirty.
Life is change.
Working as a professor was interesting. So was testing different prostheses for a prosthetics company.
But he missed the sense of fulfilling his duty, of being responsible for others. Being needed. Helping change the world for the better. The military had given him that in spades.
The Shadowlands door wasn’t locked, and Ghost entered to see Ben at the reception desk, reading a book. Behind him, portable play panels created a kid-space where a toddler ruled.
Ghost grinned. “I swear each time I see him, he’s bigger.”
Wyatt’s dark brown hair and big blue-gray eyes came from his mama. The boy was a few months past his first birthday now and looked as if he’d grow to be a goliath like his father.
“Go-es!” Wyatt made it over to the panel and lifted his arms. “Go-es.”
“Go-es, now, hmm?” Ghost lifted the boy and bounced him to get a rolling toddler laugh. “I do have another name, you know.”
“Too late to change.” Ben’s New York accent was always a shock here in Florida. “Besides, I’m not sure anyone here even knows your real name. When did you get stuck with the label, anyway?”
“Mmmph. Way back around 1990. Sneaking around in Panama during the invasion.” He’d had the handle a long time.
When Wyatt waved his toy hammer in the air, Ghost held out his palm to get pounded on. “Excellent swing, lad. You’re a good carpenter. What are you working on down there?”
Letting the boy down to show off his work, Ghost turned to Ben. “I see you’re back to holding down the desk.”
“It’s like old home week, too.” Ben motioned toward the door. “Z said to swing by the bar and grab
a soda or beer from the fridge if you want. Beth and Gabi sent cookies with their men. Seemed to think you’d need a good sugar high.”
Thinking of the mess, Ghost rubbed his neck. “They could be right.”
With a Coke in hand, Ghost entered Z’s office. The couch and chairs had been pushed to the perimeter, leaving room for long, modular tables to form a square with an open center. If one couldn’t have a round table, this was the next best thing.
Damned if everyone hadn’t already arrived. He checked his watch to find he was still a few minutes early.
Nearby, Z broke off from talking to Marcus. “Ghost, I’m pleased to see you.”
“Welcome home, Z.” As they shook hands, Ghost assessed him. Tall, leanly muscular, in his mid-forties with black hair silvering at the temples. “You look rested for a change. How is your mother doing?”
“Well, thank you.” Z smiled slightly. “We flew back with her and helped set her up at her home in Sarasota. Not that she appreciated what she called being mother-henned.”
Ghost laughed. He’d met the indomitable Madeline. He’d give her a general’s five stars any day of the week. “She’ll be all right?”
“She can walk with a cane, her lungs are clear, and the exhaustion is lifting,” Z said. “We arranged help for her for another couple of weeks.”
Overhearing, Raoul made a disbelieving sound. “Madeline accepted help?”
Z’s jaw set. “It was either a nurse’s aide or stay with us here in Tampa.”
“Compared to that discussion,” Cullen called, “I’m guessing today’s meeting will be a piece of cake.”
Doubtful.
Ghost sat down with Vance and his partner Galen, both retired FBI to his left. On his right was slender, brunette Anne who’d been a bounty hunter and now worked for Galen and Vance’s firm.
Jake and Saxon, the veterinarian partners, and Doc Alastair held down the right table, with Marcus, Olivia, and Sam across from Ghost.
“Ghost, try some of these.” Marcus pushed a plate of cookies across the table.
Oatmeal cookies were always welcome. “Thank you—and thank Gabi for me.”
“I will.”
Z took a seat between Cullen and Nolan, with Raoul at the end. “Dan and Max were called out on a homicide, but everyone else is here. Let’s begin.”
Conversations stopped; when Z spoke, even the Masters listened.
“First”—Z folded his hands on the table—“please accept my apology for abandoning the Shadowlands over the winter.”
Shrugs and variations on “Life happens” came from the Masters and Mistresses. They were all experienced Dominants, none of them younger than thirty.
“Z, we could have done more. Should have done more,” Nolan said.
“People, I know you all put in extra time during the first month I was gone. It’s why I hired a manager. My mistake was in not asking you to oversee him. But you all have lives—and limited time.”
“Now, see, there’s your weakness,” Cullen said. “You rarely ask for help. Hasn’t Jessica taught you anything?”
“Not enough, apparently.” Z’s faint smile was rueful. “You’re correct about asking for help.”
Very few Doms liked delegating.
“But even though I’ll be around more than in the past months, I can’t be here every Friday and Saturday. Not with a pregnant wife and a toddler.” Z shook his head. “The same applies to many of you. Families come first.”
Ghost glanced around the table. Nearly all the Masters and Mistresses were in solid relationships. Quite a few had children.
Z continued. “Which is why I still feel having a manager is essential. Unfortunately, the one I hired created more problems than anticipated.”
Ghost understood. Stuck in Europe, Z had taken recommendations for people who’d do well at the job, but none had wanted part-time work. After all, the Shadowlands was only open on Friday and Saturday nights. So, Z ended up settling for Wrecker.
And Ghost had heard the asshole looked good on paper.
“Ghost,” Z said. “Since you were here last night, can you tell us about the girls? Not everyone has heard the complete story.”
As if to illustrate his point, Vance leaned forward. “Girls? Girls?”
“High school seniors, barely over eighteen,” Ghost told him. “It’s lucky Valerie happened on them.”
“Who’s Valerie?” Jake asked. “The name’s not familiar.”
“A submissive who was here on the free-night pass given to people attending the open house.”
Several what-the-fucks came from Masters who hadn’t heard about the guest passes. It was another few minutes before Ghost returned to the high schoolers.
“In the restroom, Valerie heard two girls talking…” Ghost explained what had happened with the girls and with Wrecker.
Anger suffused the atmosphere. Good Dominants were protective, and the Shadowlands Masters and Mistresses were some of the finest he’d ever known.
“Is the asshole still alive?” Sam asked Z in his sandpaper voice.
“Unfortunately, yes.” Z’s expression held cold annoyance. “Dan said he’d be pissed-off if he had to arrest me for murder.”
“Law enforcement. Always so fussy,” Anne said and caught frowns from Galen and Vance, as well as Cullen, a fire investigator.
Ghost exchanged a smile with her, because in his opinion, she wasn’t wrong.
“Scott Hicks—Wrecker—expressed himself quite virulently about being terminated. As a precaution, the Shadowlands’ locks and security codes have been changed.” Z shook his head. “Josie discovered there is expensive alcohol missing. Some smaller items have also been stolen. Nonetheless, I’m disinclined to prosecute. Sorry, Marcus.”
Marcus, an assistant state attorney, inclined his head. “I do understand, sir. Discretion is part of what we owe to our members.”
“Precisely. However, Scott Hicks will no longer be welcomed in any clubs in the state—or wherever I have influence—which will curtail him targeting those in the lifestyle. Dan and Max—and their colleagues—intend to keep an eye on him, too.”
Last night, Ghost had wanted to pound the bastard into the ground. Today, after some thought, he’d arrived at the same conclusion as Z. The girls and the Shadowlands members wouldn’t be helped by trying to arrest the bastard.
“Going forward…” Z glanced at some notes in front of him. “I’ve terminated anyone Hicks hired—the dungeon monitors, the guards, the cleaning service, and the two women who replaced Peggy.”
Peggy had worked during club hours, cleaning scene areas if the participants weren’t able for some reason. A kind woman. Maybe she could be persuaded to return.
“The cleaning service? You mean Andrea’s company?” Marcus turned to Cullen.
“Aye, he fired Andrea and her crew at the beginning of February.” The big fire inspector’s face was dark, although, after a month, surely his anger would have faded some.
Unless he’d just found out?
Ghost pressed his lips together to stifle a laugh. That explained why Wrecker was still alive.
“Unfortunately, catching up with my patients will take the majority of my time, which makes hiring a new Shadowlands manager imperative.” Z leaned back and steepled his fingers. “Hiring from outside the club was a mistake. We need someone who already belongs here and has the same high expectations for the club and the membership as we do. Someone who is comfortable being in charge.”
Now that wasn’t going to be an easy person to find. Ghost rubbed his chin, trying to think of someone.
Z’s gaze met his. “I’d like the person to be you, Finlay.”
The statement hit Ghost’s gut with the impact of a .50-cal bullet. What the hell? “No.” Surely not. “There are others who would do a better job and who have been here longer.”
Cullen’s hearty laughter echoed off the walls. “You’re not going to get out of this, me boyo. We’re all in favor.”
Ghost
swept his gaze around the table. Aside from Olivia, each person wore a shit-eating grin. “You bastards. You started the meeting before I got here. This is a set-up.”
Raoul swore, dug out his wallet, and handed Marcus a five-dollar bill.
The attorney smirked. “He’s as smart as a fox. I knew he’d figure it out.”
Z cleared his throat. “Finlay, I know you’re a professor at the university. Still, I think you could handle the added commitment.”
Ghost eyed him. “Because you managed to balance the club and your job for years.”
“Balancing wasn’t difficult until we had children.” Z rubbed his face. “Part of being a parent is simply being present. During my first marriage, I was in the military, then college, and my boys grew up mostly without me. I want to do better this time around.”
Easy to understand—and appreciate.
Kelly couldn’t have children, but… “My tours of duty were why my wife and I decided against adopting. Her health was poor enough she wouldn’t have been able to handle parenthood with me deployed so often.” There were times he regretted their decision.
In the military, he’d enjoyed working with young soldiers. Now, teaching helped fill the need.
As if Z had heard his thoughts, he said, “We all want to help the next generation along. The university is one way.” Z paused. “So is mentoring new Doms.”
Ghost sipped his Coke as he thought.
He didn’t need the money. The question was: Could he do the job and do it well?
Probably.
Did he want the job?
Hmm.
Z held up a hand. “I do have a condition: the manager must live on the premises. Upstairs. Rent-free, of course.”
“Is there a reason?” Ghost asked.
“Indeed. There has been vandalism in the Capture Gardens and in the private gardens.”
“Isn’t there a security system?” Holt asked.
“There is, and the alarms were set off. Unfortunately, the property is quite distant from the nearest police station. Having someone living here again might eliminate the problem.”
“That’s logical.” However, the main reason for being the manager was the club, and it wasn’t a job he could do alone.
The Effing List Page 11