Clarence Wolfe strode up to the entrance of the super-secret sex club as if he had done so a million times before.
Down the street and partially hidden by the branches of a sweeping cherry tree, Dana Mulberry ducked lower in her car and pressed the binoculars to her face so hard they pinched her skin. What in the world was Wolfe doing at a Captive party?
She swallowed. Her heart rate, already thundering, galloped into the unhealthy range. It had taken her weeks to find out about the club and track down the location of the newest party, and yet another week to finagle an invitation to the casual play night as a guest. And the ex-soldier, the beyond hunky badass who’d relegated her immediately to the friend zone, was walking inside like he owned one of the coveted million-dollar memberships?
She shook her head. Twice. When she could focus once more through her binoculars, there Wolfe prowled, clear as day in the full moonlight.
He’d followed the rules for the night, too. Male doms were to wear leather pants and dark shirts, females any leather outfit, and subs were to wear corsets and small skirts if they were female and knit shirts and light pants if they were male. Apparently, Wolfe was a dom. Figured. She had assumed she’d chuckle at seeing guys in leather pants, but there was nothing funny about Wolfe’s long legs, powerful thighs and tight butt in those pants.
In fact, he looked even more dangerous than usual, and she would’ve bet that wasn’t possible.
Where in the heck had Wolfe found leather pants? Was he really some sort of dom who went to clubs? He didn’t like people enough to spend time with anybody in a dungeon. She giggled, the sound slightly hysterical, so she cleared her throat.
What now? She looked down at her tight green corset and a black skirt that was as short as she dared go. At least it covered the still healing knife marks on her upper thighs that she hadn’t told anybody about. Not even her doctor. The guy who’d cut her had been killed in jail, so why did it matter?
Forget the nightmares. They’ll go away soon.
Her more immediate problem was that Wolfe had just walked through the front door of the mansion housing the latest Captive party. The man she needed to find was inside that place, and she’d spent a lot of time gearing up for this.
Would Wolfe blow her cover?
She’d been sitting in her car for an hour watching people arrive. Okay. She might’ve been gathering her courage. This was so outside her experience. She hadn’t even known sex clubs existed until that movie came out about BDSM.
But her boss at the national newspaper where she used to work, had once said she’d do anything for a story, and he’d been right. Well, mostly. Okay. She could do this. In fact, why not look at the fact that Wolfe was inside as a positive? His presence gave her unexpected backup.
Yeah. That was the idea. Forget the fact that the sexiest man she’d ever met was in a sex club right now. Yep. Good plan. She slid from her car and pulled her skirt down as far as she could, which still barely covered her butt.
Her heels tottered on the uneven sidewalk as she clip-clopped alongside a high stone wall that no doubt protected another zillion-dollar mansion. Then she crossed the street, her head high, shivering in the chilly breeze as she reached the front door and knocked.
“Hello.” A man in full tuxedo opened the door. He was about six feet tall with curly blond hair, and he was built like a linebacker. “Can I help you?”
There was no way anybody could get by this guy if he didn’t grant access. She handed over her gold-foiled invitation.
He accepted the paper and held up a small tablet to scroll through. “Ah. Miss Millerton. I see that you answered the questionnaire and have signed all of the necessary documents.” He focused on her, still blocking entry. “A couple of quick questions.”
She forced a smile, feeling way too exposed in her scant clothing. Hopefully the questions weren’t about her cover ID. “All right.”
“What’s your safe word?”
“Red,” she said instantly.
“Good. If you need help, who do you yell for?” His voice remained kind but firm.
She paused, thinking through the documents she’d read online. “For anybody, but especially the dungeon monitors.” The words felt foreign in her mouth. Should she ask him about Albert? Or was that taboo? She didn’t want to get kicked out before she found her source.
“Good.” The guy stepped back to reveal a rather ordinary-looking front vestibule with another wide door directly across from them. “Go ahead and have fun, sweetheart.”
Fun? She nodded and tottered on her heels across the dark marble to the door, which, somehow, he reached first and opened for her.
“Thank you,” she murmured, instantly hit by a wave of noise and heat. Music blasted from the ceiling, and in front of her, a palatial living room had been set up with a dance floor on one side and a full-length bar on the other. Bar. Definitely bar. She could have a drink and maybe chat up the bartender. A quick glance around the darkened room, highlighted by deep purple lights from far above, didn’t reveal Albert’s location. She didn’t see Wolfe, either. Good.
She made her way through a crowd of people in leather and other gear, finally reaching the bar.
A six-foot-tall female bartender wearing a full leather outfit leaned over, her full breasts spilling out of the tight V-neck. “What can I get you, hon?”
“Tequila. Shot,” Dana said. Should she ask for a double? No.
“Sure thing.” The woman poured a generous shot and pushed it across the inlaid wood. “You a guest tonight?”
Dana tipped back the drink, sputtering just a little as her throat heated. “Yes.”
The woman grinned, revealing a tongue piercing. “You new?”
“Yes.” Dana coughed.
“I’m Jennie.” She tilted her head and poured another shot. “Mistress Jennie.”
Oh yeah. Dana had tried to memorize the appropriate lingo from the online sites. She accepted the second shot, her hand shaking. “Thank you.” Was she supposed to add the “mistress”? The website hadn’t said.
“You bet. Just have some fun and remember you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. The playrooms are all over the house, and if there’s a red sign on a door, it can’t be closed. You can just watch if you want,” Jennie said, moving down the bar as somebody caught her attention.
Good advice. Definitely. Dana took the second shot and let the alcohol warm her body.
“Hello.” A man appeared at her elbow. “We haven’t met.”
She partially turned. The guy was about fifty with shrewd eyes and an iron-hard body. He wore leather pants and a red leather vest that showed muscled arms. “Hello. I’m Dana,” she said.
“Charles.” He held out a hand to shake and kept hers longer than necessary. “You here to explore a little bit?”
Oh, crap. “I’m just here to ease my way in.” She tried for a flirtatious smile, but her lips refused to curve. “In fact, I was looking for my friend Albert Nelson. Any chance you know him?”
Charles slid closer, his pupils dilated. “No. But I could make you forget him.” He took her hand again, and she tried to pull back, but he just smiled. “How about we check out some of the rooms? I could show you around.”
“No, thanks.” She forced a smile in place as panic began to rise.
“Come on—” Charles began.
“She said no.” Charles’s hand was instantly removed from hers, and he was tossed toward the dance floor, barely catching his balance before he collided with two people slow dancing.
Dana gulped, tasting tequila on her lips as she looked up, knowing the voice well. “Wolfe.” Only training kept her from blanching at the raw fury in his bourbon-colored eyes.
He leaned in, his full lips near her ear. “What the hell are you doing here?”
She shivered and dug deep for her own anger. Then she pressed her hands to her hips. “What are you doing here?” she snapped back.
His gaze swept from her revealing top, down to her toes, and back up to her blazing face. “Subs don’t use that tone, baby. One who does ends up over a knee. Quickly.”
Oh, he did not. She glared. “I am not a sub,” she whispered.
“You’re dressed like one.” His dark T-shirt tightened across his muscled chest as he leaned closer again. His buzz cut had grown out to curl a bit beneath his ears, giving him a wild look.
“There weren’t many options,” she hissed.
“Wolfe.” A man also dressed in leather, his brown hair slicked back, moved up beside Wolfe. He was about forty with tattoos down one arm. “I see you found a friend. Finally going to play?”
Wolfe didn’t look away from Dana, his gaze going from furious to calm in a second. How in the world did he control himself like that? “I’m normally not a public player, as you know.”
What did that mean? Dana began to ask, but Wolfe subtly shook his head.
The man held out a hand. “In that case, I’m Master Trentington. How about I show you around tonight?”
“That’s kind of you.” Dana shook his hand, her lip trembling annoyingly. “I was actually looking for a friend named Albert Nelson. Do you know him?”
Trentington reluctantly released her. “I do, but he’s not here tonight. I’d love to be your guide in his stead.”
“No,” Wolfe answered before she could, angling his body closer and partially blocking the other man. He glanced over his shoulder at Jennie. “Spare cuffs?”
Jennie grinned, reached under the bar, and tossed over a pair of bright pink wrist cuffs.
Wolfe snagged them out of the air and snapped them on Dana’s wrists before she could blink. They were fur lined and soft, but felt restrictive nonetheless. “We’ve already reached an agreement,” he murmured.
“Well. In that case, have fun.” Trentington moved to leave.
“Charles was being pushy again,” Wolfe said quietly. “It’s time you kicked him out.”
Trentington sighed and turned toward the dance floor. “Thanks.”
Dana looked down at the pink cuffs. She kind of felt like Wonder Woman. “Why did you—”
“They show ownership,” Wolfe said, clipping the cuffs together easily.
Her abdomen rolled, and her head snapped back. “Excuse me?” She tugged hard, but they wouldn’t separate, effectively binding her wrists together. She eyed his shin. With her heels, she could do some damage.
He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. It slid over her skin, burning her from within. “Right now, you’re playing a sub, no doubt for a story. But I’m playing a dom, and if you kick me, I’ll toss your ass over that bar and beat it.”
His words slid right through her to pulse between her legs. For Pete’s sake. That scenario was not sexy. The idea of Wolfe’s hand anywhere near her butt sent her already sensitive body into hyperdrive. Oh, she’d handle him later. For now, she had work to do, so she shook off all emotion and leaned closer. He’d said “playing.” “Are you on a job?” she whispered.
“Yes.” He glanced around. “Who’s Albert Nelson?”
“Someone I need to talk to,” she said, looking again. “I scared him off last week, but I know he’s a member of Captive, so I came here to ask him questions.” She planned to pressure him into answering all of her questions this time. She no longer cared about subtlety. Finding out who’d killed her friend was all that mattered. “Your job?”
“Confidential. You know a guy named Clarke Wellson?”
“No, but I could do a background check later,” she murmured. They’d helped each other with cases before.
Wolfe glanced down at her, his gaze warming. “You look incredible.”
“Thank you.” It was nice he’d noticed, although the outfit wasn’t really her style. She was more a jeans and flannel type of girl. She shuffled uneasily in her heels. That way he had of switching topics had thrown her ever since they’d met. “Okay. I’m going to mingle and ask questions. You?”
He smiled, the sight daunting. “I just cuffed you. No dom would allow a sub to mingle.”
Allow? Oh, heck no. She blinked. “Then uncuff me.”
“No. Last time you didn’t have backup, you nearly died.” He crossed his arms, somehow scouting the entire room while also watching her.
Her back teeth gritted together. “You’re not in charge here, Wolfe.”
“The cuffs say otherwise,” he said, angling his head to take in the dance floor.
She couldn’t help it. She really couldn’t. Full on, she’d chased this story, and now she was pretty much tied up because of a guy who only wanted to be her friend. She kicked him, as hard as she could, right in the shin.
He stiffened and rapidly pivoted, and both hands went to her hips to lift her. She was in the air, halfway to the bar, before she even thought to struggle. A heavy thud sounded from behind Wolfe. A woman screamed.
Wolfe dropped Dana to her feet and shoved her behind him, angling toward the dance floor. He looked up to a balcony high above.
Dana craned her neck to look around him, staring down at the dead man on the ground with a bullet hole in his head. His eyes were wide open and frighteningly blank. Her stomach lurched, and she coughed. “That’s Albert,” she whispered.
Wolfe looked over his shoulder at her. “Well, shit. That’s Clarke, too.”
Sirens sounded in the distance. Wolfe grabbed her bound wrists. “We have to get out of here. Now.”
Holding Dana tight, ignoring her sweet orange blossoms scent, Wolfe ran past the gaping onlookers to the vestibule, where Thor with an attitude tried to stop him. Not halting his stride, Wolfe lifted the moron beneath the neck and tossed him against the far wall. The fancy wooden paneling cracked, and the guy dropped to the marble floor.
Dana gasped but kept pace with him as he charged out the front door and into the street, scouting for threats. “Where’s your car?” he asked.
Trembling, she pointed down the quiet street to a compact lime-green bug.
His steps faltered and then quickened again. “Where did you get a tiny green car?” he snapped.
“Rented it,” she panted, her eyes wild. “Figured it’d be tough to trace me if something went wrong.”
It was freaking easy to trace a properly rented car if she had used her real ID, which no doubt she had. “Good idea,” he rumbled. Why scare her even more than she already was? Or maybe he should. When he’d turned around and seen her at that sex club party, his head had almost exploded—and not just because of the danger she seemed to hunt like a bluetick hound. That outfit should be illegal.
He opened the passenger-side door and settled her inside, lifting his head. The skin of his neck prickled in warning. Slamming her door, he ran around and tried to force his six-foot-six body into the driver’s seat. Groaning, he reached down and pushed the seat all the way back, which still wasn’t far enough, then slammed the door, wincing as his knees pressed the steering wheel up. He turned the key, impressed she’d left it in the ignition.
The car bucked, and he punched the gas.
“Hey.” Dana stabilized herself with her hands on the dash. “Slow down.”
He didn’t bother to answer, settling both hands on the steering wheel and taking a turn on two wheels.
Sirens trilled, rapidly approaching.
Going on instinct, he turned down another residential street in the subdivision, heading for the rear entrance. The emergency vehicles would use the main entrance. He hoped. “Put on your seat belt,” he said, increasing his speed.
“Wh-what if we need to jump out?” she gasped.
“Seat. Belt.” He didn’t have time to argue.
She did as he ordered, mumbling something and no doubt rolling her spectacular green eyes. “You need to release these damn cuffs.”
Without looking, he reached over and freed the clasp before taking another turn, swiping some rich person’s rosebush. “I like you bound.”
She snorted, tearing off the cuffs and tossing them in the back seat. “Don’t flirt if you can’t follow through.”
He swallowed down a retort, because she was right. He had no intention of dragging her into his disaster of a world, because he knew, without a doubt, that she deserved much better than he’d ever be able to offer. “Want to tell me why you were at a sex party undercover, without backup?” One of the many skills he’d learned in the military was to keep his voice mild when his temper was spiking.
“Oh, no,” she said, stabilizing herself by grabbing the oh shit handle above her head. “I’m not giving you a thing until you spill it all. Not this time.”
Darn stubborn woman. He slowed the car as he caught sight of two kids tossing a football in front of a well-lit mansion. Shouldn’t they be in bed? It was after midnight.
She cleared her throat. “When you picked me up after I kicked you—you weren’t really going to . . .”
He sped by a cul-de-sac and headed for the exit, hitting the brakes as the gate slowly started to open. “I said I would.” They’d both been undercover, and he’d provided warning. “Have I ever lied to you?”
“Probably,” she returned, her voice a mite snappy. “You have no idea what hell you would’ve unleashed.”
Amusement flitted through him like a ghost of the sense of humor he’d had years ago. He turned to face her, his gaze dropping to the sexy corset. “You don’t think I could spank you?”
A startling pink flushed up from her breasts to her face, catching his attention as her cheeks darkened. Then her eyes sparked. Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating. He focused back on the infuriatingly slow gate. “I’ve never lied to you, Dana.” He never would, either.
“Maybe you haven’t lied, but you sure don’t tell—” She yelped as bullets impacted the vehicle.
In one smooth motion, he grabbed the back of her neck and bent her, shoving her torso below the window while pressing hard on the gas pedal. The car lurched through the gate, which scraped along the passenger side, flicking sparks.
To her credit, she didn’t struggle. “You think they’re shooting at you or me?” Her voice was muffled against her legs.
“Good question.” Trusting her to remain down, he released her to put both hands on the wheel and zip out to a main traffic artery, searching for the enemy in the rearview mirror. “I think they shot from the bushes at the exit. Hopefully no vehicle near.”
A black truck swerved around the corner behind them, its headlights cutting through the darkness. He’d spoken too soon.
She partially rose up to look over her shoulder. “You have a gun?”
“Where would I put a gun in this outfit?” He wouldn’t be able to lose the truck in this small vehicle.
She coughed, her eyes wide, her face pale. “How are you so calm right now?” Her soft voice rose to almost shrill.
“Training?” He ripped around another corner and had to swerve to avoid a woman walking a poodle. Why wasn’t anybody in bed at the damn late hour? “I don’t feel things like other people do, not anymore.” The truck was getting closer.
“As much as I like you opening up, maybe we should talk about your emotions later? After we get rid of these guys?” she gasped.
“Good point.” One of the advantages of his lack of emotion was that the adrenaline flooding his system focused him. Keeping calm and rational was the only way they’d get out of this. He drove up the on-ramp to the interstate just as bullets grazed the back of the bug. If one hit a tire at this speed, the car would roll. “Hold on.” He swerved in and out of traffic, ignoring the blaring horns. An elderly lady in a massive Buick missing a headlight flipped him the bird and he moved onto the shoulder, increasing speed. The truck followed.
At the last second, he veered across multiple lanes of traffic and shot down an off-ramp, barreling through a red light and swerving onto a busy street.
He skidded, hit the brakes, turned the car, and accelerated again.
Dana sat fully up, her blond hair flying over the back of the seat. “I should’ve brought a gun,” she muttered.
“Why?” He turned the wheel and drove the car to the rear of a fast-food joint, whipping around to face the main street. The VW was partially hidden behind the building and foliage as well as the darkness of night.
“To shoot,” she muttered.
He kept his hands light on the wheel. “You can’t get into a shootout on a busy street. This isn’t the movies.”
She rolled her eyes. “Do you have to be so literal all the time?”
He mulled the question over. “Yeah. I think so.” Several minutes passed without any sighting of the black truck. He tugged his phone from his back pocket, wincing as he caught his fingers in the tight leather of the pants. Hitting speed dial, he waited until Angus Force, his boss, picked up.
“What?” Force snarled.
Great. He was in another mood. “Have someone drop off my truck at . . .” Wolfe flipped open the jockey box to pull out the rental agreement and read quickly. “Squishy’s Car Rental on Third Street.” He clicked off before Force could ask questions, turning to face Dana. “We’ll get rid of the car, fetch your things, and then you can come home with me.”
She faltered. “I’m not going home with you.”
“Sure, you are.” Sometimes things were so clear to him, he truly couldn’t understand how anybody else could be confused. “Either those guys were shooting at you—”
“Or maybe you,” she countered, her fragile chin lifting.
He nodded. “Or maybe me. In which case, they surely got the plates of this thing and will investigate the hot blonde in the passenger seat. Even though it’s dark, their headlights were bright enough to get the license plate and your hair color. The guys after me wouldn’t hesitate to go through you to get to me.”
She rubbed her nose. “What guys are after you? I mean, besides the guys in the black truck, who could be after me and not you.”
There were too many guys after too many people. He had to take care of his problems sooner rather than later, and he needed to ensure her safety first. “I like you.” The words rolled out, surprising him.
She drew back, confusion clouding her emerald eyes for the briefest of seconds. “I like you, too.”
“I don’t have many friends, Dana.” It was hard to find the right words, especially when dealing with someone who used words all the time in her work. She was an excellent journalist and writer, and he knew he wasn’t putting this right. “You’re my friend, and I can’t let you get hurt.” There. That made sense.
Her shoulders relaxed. “You’re my friend, too, but I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time, Wolfe. I’m on a story, one that matters to me, and I’m not letting up.”
Her tenacity and dedication had impressed him from the beginning of their friendship. Oh, if she were tough or hardened, they would’ve taken it temporarily beyond friendship. But she was sweet and soft and kind . . . and he was none of those things. Probably never had been. “Would you please relocate to my place while we figure out what’s happening with both of our cases?”
She blinked. “You just said please.”
“Yeah.” He was the muscle for his unit, and when it came to safety, he usually gave orders. She wasn’t his to protect unless she allowed it. Although, if she said no, he’d camp outside of her apartment out of sight. But she didn’t know that.
She sighed. “If I don’t go with you, you’ll just skulk around my apartment complex and scare people.”
Maybe she did know him better than he’d thought. “I don’t skulk.” The idea was a little insulting. He started the engine and drove sedately out onto the main road, turning quickly to use back roads to the car rental place, which took longer than he’d planned. By the time they reached the business, his truck was already waiting on the front curb, gleaming beneath the streetlight.
“Angus Force sure gets things done,” Dana mused.
True. Wolfe parked the car, tossed the rental agreement and keys in the after-hours box, and once again took Dana’s hand to lead her to his truck. Her hand was small and her skin soft against his, and he tried not to notice. He really did.
She hesitated at his truck, pulling free. “I’m not sure I should stay with you.”
He turned to face her, knowing exactly what she meant. Even if he had it in him to be coy, he wouldn’t be with her. Her green eyes glowed in the dim light, matching the corset that pushed up her breasts, creating enticing mounds. Her legs were bare to the heels, and somehow, even her knees were sexy. She was the girl next door, the ambitious professional, the sweet woman who’d befriended him when she’d had no reason to be nice. Somehow, she brought out a side of him he’d thought had died on a dusty road a million miles away, along with his teammates. With her, and only with her, he wished he could be different from the man he’d become.
Worse yet, she had a penchant for barreling headfirst into danger, and everything about him spelled danger. He felt the draw between them, and he’d fought it since day one.
He swallowed as desire hit him so hard he couldn’t speak for a moment.
Her eyes darkened and she shifted her weight, knowledge tilting her lips. “So. I stay at my place and you stay at yours?”
It was a smart plan, except for the fact that she might be in danger. “I’d rather have blue balls than you dead, sweetheart. Get in the truck.”
Her face flushed. “Wolfe. Geez. You’re not supposed to say everything that pops into your head.”
He reached for her arm, assisting her into the truck. “Hazard of a brain injury, I guess.” He waited until she settled and then gently shut the door, wishing he could shut down his attraction for her as he crossed in front of his vehicle and jumped into the driver’s seat. Once he’d ignited the engine, he drove away from the curb. He’d already survived the closest thing to hell he could imagine, but something told him the next few days with her at his house would be worse. He needed to find the guys after them and take off their heads, now.
“Wolfe. Geez.”
Crap. He’d said that out loud. Yep. This was going to be tough.
By the time Dana had packed her clothes and research files and returned to Wolfe’s truck, she was starving, and still uncomfortably turned on, or maybe her breathlessness resulted from the aftermath of the car chase. An image of Wolfe in those pants flashed through her head. Nope. Turned on, for sure. At least she’d had a chance to change into worn jeans and a comfy flannel shirt. As she retook her seat on the passenger side, he slid his phone into the cup holder between them.
“Force just called and I need to drop by the office,” he said, starting the engine and pulling the truck out of her lot.
She glanced at the clock on the dash, frowning. “It’s one in the morning.”
Wolfe shrugged. “We work when Force wants to work, and that’s usually late. I didn’t see any activity around your building, so you’re safe for now.”
Her adrenaline had finally ebbed so she could think clearly. She shivered. Getting shot at. . .
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