Free and Bound (A Club Volare New Orleans Novel)

by Chloe Cox

  “Even if I didn’t do anything wrong?”

  Cate smiled gently. That arrogance was so hot, so infuriating, and so going to get him into trouble.

  “It’s like you think everyone else is honest, too,” she said. “It’s almost kinda sweet.”

  Wait. Did I just flirt with him?

  Soren flashed a grin at her and then hooked his boot under her chair and swiftly pulled it towards his own, jostling her as he dragged her toward him. Cate gasped, knocked right back into the present moment by Soren’s physicality, yet again. It took her a second to realize she’d lost a shoe.

  Then she felt his eyes on her, and she forgot all about…everything.

  “There’s not much about me that’s sweet,” he said. And then he was up, standing over her chair, leaning down. She felt his breath on her cheek, his hands on the sides of her chair, his thumbs brushing her forearms. He was as close as he’d been when he’d picked her up outside, or when he’d crowded her at the bar, only this time, this time, he knew so much more. He knew her in a way no one else did, knew what she wanted. That she wanted. And he knew who she was. He knew both private and public Cate.

  It paralyzed her.

  “And I’m familiar with liars, Cate,” he said, his eyes roaming over her body. How could he make her feel so naked when she was fully dressed? “And so are you. I’m not one of them. No strings attached, complete honesty, total trust. And your submission.”

  He took her hand.

  Cate let herself really feel it for one, priceless moment. She let herself feel the warmth of him, the roughness, the crackling tension that traveled from his skin to hers, the promise of the way it would feel on her hips, her stomach, her breasts. The promise of the way it would feel inside her. She let herself feel what it would be like to do all of those things he’d told her about with those eyes watching her, seeing her, the real her.

  For a second, it was amazing.

  And then her brain—her obnoxious, killjoy brain—reminded her that he knew too much. Even if she didn’t tell him anything else, right now, as he looked at her—he saw too much. She could already feel herself spinning out of control, could feel the worry, the insecurity, the certainty that this would only be a prelude to finding some way to hurt her.

  The panic closed in.

  “Shit,” she said.

  She snatched her hand back and looked away. Soren seemed to get it—he backed off, making sure she wasn’t trapped, and just watched her from a few feet away.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” she said again, running her hand through her hair.

  Soren bent down, and when he came back up he was holding out her missing shoe.

  Like he knew she needed to run away.

  Somewhere deep inside, this annoyed her. It more than annoyed her—it meant he had still won, in some twisted way, and that just could not be allowed to stand. Soren offered her a freaking shoe, and it meant she would have to see him again, no matter what, because this was the second time today that Soren Andersson had seen her run away from something.

  “Shit!” she said, and snatched the shoe away from him.

  She had always been proud of her ability to seriously book it even while wearing stilettos, and this was the perfect time to show off that particular talent. She stalked to the door, hopping only once while she got that damn shoe on, and made a point of forcing herself to stop and turn.

  Soren was leaning against Ford’s desk, arms crossed, eyes glowing, a smile across his face.

  “This is not happening the way you think it will,” she said.

  He laughed.

  Cate cursed once more for good measure then practically flew out the door. She’d only made it a few steps before she ran into Ford.

  “Hey, where are you going?” Ford said. Crease lines in his forehead marred his movie star face. “I thought you wanted to see the club.”

  Had she said that to him? There was literally no chance she had actually said that out loud to Ford Colson. Were all Doms this sneaky?

  “Nice try,” Cate said. Why was she breathless? “And I don’t know. Maybe. Not now.”

  Ford smiled. Charming when he was caught. Cate was suddenly glad she’d never been attracted to him—he was probably a heartbreaker.

  “Well, are you taking the case?” he said.

  “No thanks to my idiot client, but yes,” she said. “Go explain it to him until he stops trying to fire me. I have research to do.”

  Ford saluted. This time Cate hid her smile until she was back in her car.

  Four

  “Soren, where the hell is your head at?”

  Soren scowled and let his fingers dance over the guitar strings, teasing out a defiant, skittering solo as his answer. The whole band was locked away in Declan’s studio—Declan, Soren, Gage, Brian, and Eric now, too, for an added guitar—and they were supposed to be writing the new album. Actually, they had been writing the new album for a month, and they had nothing.

  It just wasn’t gelling.

  Soren tried not to let it get to him, but the expectations for the band’s reunion had been crazy high. Even Soren had thought that they’d get back together after working out all that crap about what happened back in Philly to break up the band, and that then it would be better than ever.

  And it just wasn’t.

  Even more frustrating, Soren knew it was him. Knew he didn’t quite fit. It wasn’t just in the studio, either. Things had changed in all of their lives, for everyone but Soren.

  Or, at least, that’s what Soren had been telling himself for the past month. Sounded like a plausible reason, and like something that would just take some time to fix. But now…

  Where was his head?

  With Cate Kennedy, for fuck’s sake.

  He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her ever since she stormed out of Ford’s office. That had been an impressive exit, even more so when he’d heard her yell at Ford on the way out. He smiled thinking about it—he had no doubt he was in fact an idiot client. He’d never had the temperament for taking orders and playing nice, and he wasn’t going to start now, no matter how legally advisable it was. Cate insisted on taking the case? That was fine by him. Just meant she’d be close. And her trying to give orders just made him want her more.

  Besides, Ford had convinced him that he was pretty much screwed without her. He had to take the best representation he could, if only for these four other idiots that he cared about.

  “Dude!”

  Soren looked up to find Declan staring at him. Gage looked like he was about to take a nap under his drums, Brian was laughing at him, and Eric was just being quietly professional, like always.

  “What the hell, man?” Declan said.

  “Yeah,” Soren said, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t working.”

  “Seriously, though, where is your head at?” Brian laughed. “I bet it’s better than here.”

  Soren smiled. Couldn’t help it. But it was enough—Brian whooped in delight, like a little kid. A sick, twisted little kid.

  “I freaking knew it!” Brian said. “It’s a chick. Definitely a chick. Multiple chicks? Come on, dude, don’t hold out.”

  “Seriously?” Declan said.

  Even Gage was paying attention.

  “All of you can go fuck right off,” Soren said. “This isn’t a slumber party, and who I screw is none of your business.”

  Declan smiled. “Come on, Soren, the only thing you like better than writing your guitar riffs is nailing—”

  “Watch it,” Soren said.

  For some reason he was not in the mood. He knew they were all agitated by how hard it was to write this album, and even though no one would say anything, they were all worried about this stupid lawsuit. Soren knew they needed to blow off steam, but doing it at Cate’s expense wasn’t going to fly.

  Had he really just thought that?

  Soren had to laugh. He was never the white knight type. What the hell had happened to him? Ever since he’d
touched Cate Kennedy, ever since she’d talked to him, open like she was, bare, saying things that he understood even if he couldn’t explain why, it was like he’d woken the hell up. The old Soren, the man who used to plow through several women a night, who just couldn’t get enough—he finally, finally felt like that again, only just for her.

  Which felt weird.

  But it also felt like a goddamn fever. He couldn’t stop moving, couldn’t stop thinking about her and how she radiated need. How it was the mirror image of the things he used to need. If he let himself think about it too much, he’d want to explode. The truth was, when Soren found out the last woman he’d been with had lied to him about a pill addiction then overdosed, it had done more than temporarily break up the band. I had brought back a whole bunch of very personal demons for Soren, most of them having to do with the one woman he never talked about: Julia. And so Soren hadn’t touched another woman since then. It was antithetical to his nature, and it meant he was pent up and ready to explode, but he just couldn’t do it. Not when he feared that every woman would want more than he could offer, and not when he was sure that he wasn’t able to love a woman like she deserved to be loved.

  But Cate?

  Cate didn’t want any of that. He could see it, feel it. She wouldn’t even trust that if he tried to give it to her. Cate might be the only woman on the planet who needed exactly what he could give. And that was a relief, a fucking purpose, and it made him feel lighter than he had in months.

  And it meant he could get laid. Soren was pretty sure he could actually punch through walls at this point if it meant he’d get to bury himself in Cate Kennedy on the other side.

  “Fuck, we have an album to write,” Soren muttered.

  “You thinking what I’m thinking?” Declan asked.

  Soren smiled. So did Brian.

  But it was Molly who got them moving. “Christ, it’s quiet in here,” she said, popping her head in the soundproofed door and flashing that mischievous grin. “You boys forget how to play?”

  Soren watched Declan’s face light up brighter than a stage light. It was like that woman could flip a switch just by walking in the room, and it made Soren happy by association every time she did it. Declan had had a rough time when they were kids—the man deserved to be happy.

  “Soren has,” Declan said with an evil grin. “You wanna come see how we used to write back in the day?”

  Brian was already packing up his bass, and Gage was explaining to Eric. Soren felt himself smile wide—they hadn’t done this in years, and just the idea of it was getting his blood pumping already.

  “Hell yes,” Molly said. “But only if we take the Challenger.”

  “That’s my car,” Soren said.

  “And by the time you’re done with whatever you crazy people are going to do to work your creative mojo, you’ll be so jazzed that you’ll let me drive it on the way back,” Molly replied. Then she buffed her nails on her sleeve and looked up through impossibly long eyelashes, smiling.

  Soren just stared at her. The thing was, she was one hundred percent right. He’d tell himself no one was driving his car, but when push came to shove, if he’d gotten a song written, and he was still thinking about Cate, he wouldn’t give a care. He’d let her drive the 1970 Challenger. He looked at Declan, who was no damn help at all.

  “Sometimes I can’t tell if I feel happy for you or if I pity you,” he told his friend.

  “If you were smart,” Declan laughed, “you’d envy me.”

  Soren thought about Julia and shook his head. Nope. He’d learned he wasn’t built for it. But Declan apparently was, and the man was building himself a family, so that was the kind of thing Soren was going to keep to himself.

  Which was why he was thinking about family as he waited by his car for Molly and Declan to get their asses ready to go. Thing was, Soren almost never thought about his sister when he thought about family. He’d left all that back on Long Island a long time ago and intended to keep it there.

  Except there was a text from Sonya. His sister.

  Ten years with nothing, except when they wanted money, and then the band gets in the papers because of the break-up and his older sister starts texting. Made no goddamn sense. She’d sent him pictures of her vacation, some pictures of her kids—he felt bad about the kids, a little boy and a little girl, about how they might have to grow up given what his family was like, but didn’t know what he was supposed to do about it, and that made him angry. So now every time he got a text from Sonya he could practically feel his blood pressure rise.

  This time all she said was, “Just checking in.” Like they had a normal relationship, like they knew each other at all—what the fuck did that mean? There’d already been headlines about a rumored lawsuit, and the timing seemed suspicious. He was already more worried about the lawsuit than he’d ever let on, because it was every Dom’s worst nightmare: hurting a sub. He knew he hadn’t, knew it in a rational sense, and yet the uncertainty, the not knowing, the pacing around, unable to act, like a caged animal…

  What if he had hurt a sub?

  The doubt was new to him. The doubt was maybe because that connection with Cate had reminded him of Julia. And now his sister poking her nose in?

  Soren shifted his weight, feeling the old familiar adrenaline response, the same thing he had seen flow through Cate not that long ago. Except in him flight or fight always meant fight, and that led to some dumb choices. He was on the defensive, primed for an attack that he knew wasn’t going to come, and he knew it would screw up his night if he let it.

  So he thought about Cate instead.

  He drove his beloved car hard down Sunset with Molly in the passenger seat and Declan laughing in the back, thinking about nothing but Cate. Letting the lights streak by like liquid, letting Molly’s laughing screams wash over him, letting everything but the memory of Cate’s curves, the softness of her skin, the set of her jaw, let it all fade.

  Holy fuck he wanted her.

  It was strange to want someone so badly again. So strange that it was starting to get to him, to buzz around in his head. He couldn’t stop replaying certain moments in his mind, couldn’t stop—

  “Hey Mr. Serious Face!”

  Soren blinked and looked at Molly. She was grinning like a cat.

  “No, you can’t drive my car,” Soren said.

  “Yet,” Declan added.

  “Give me the dirt, Soren.” Molly smiled. “I hear you had an interesting meeting with your brand new lawyer.”

  Soren frowned. The gossip in a club like Volare was almost as bad as it was in a band. He was screwed no matter what.

  “From who?” he asked.

  “Ford says she’s one of us,” Molly went on. She was enjoying this way too much. “Says she’s a sub.”

  Soren screeched to a stop at a red light and turned sharply on Molly. “How the hell would Ford know?”

  That woman was never fazed.

  “Is it any of your business how Ford would know?”

  “When was the last time I cared what was and wasn’t my business?” Soren growled. He eyed Declan in the rearview mirror. “Stop laughing, asshole. Are you telling me Ford went after her?”

  He’d kill him, friend or no. Not only because Soren thought of Cate as his, even though that was kind of crazy, but because Adra Davis was his friend. Adra had become friends with all of Savage Heart ever since she’d helped bring Molly into their lives by hiring her to write that book, and while no one knew exactly what was going on between Adra and Ford, whatever it was, it wasn’t nothing. If Ford had hit on the one woman Soren wanted and hurt Adra in the process, he’d only discovered a creative way of getting himself killed.

  Molly looked indignant. “Do you think any of us would be ok with that?”

  “You are a difficult woman,” Soren grumbled.

  “He says he has a vibe,” Molly said. “And he says you tried to scare her away and only succeeded in pissing her off. So I like her already.”


  “You would,” Soren said.

  “Even I have to love a woman who can make you look dumb, bro,” Declan said.

  Molly flashed that evil grin again. “I’m trying to decide if you blush, Soren,” she said.

  “Hey,” Declan warned. It earned a peal of laughter from Molly and Soren shook his head, knowing he’d just been drawn into the game these two constantly played with each other. It didn’t bother him; it was worth seeing his friends happy. He bet Declan would give Molly exactly what she was asking for later.

  And he kept thinking about Cate. And what her skin looked like when she blushed.

  Suddenly Soren started to laugh.

  The way Cate had turned red and had hopped toward the door with dignity? He’d never seen anything like it. He wouldn’t have thought it possible for one woman to be sexy and silly and still kind of scary all at once, but somehow Cate managed it. If Soren possessed the capacity for embarrassment, he hoped he’d handle it like that. It was endearing as fuck.

  He couldn’t wait to see how she blushed under his hand.

  He thought about that long enough that it took him a while to notice both Declan and Molly were looking at him funny.

  “What?” he demanded.

  “You’re laughing,” Molly said.

  “So?”

  “I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen you laugh,” she said. She was looking at him all wide-eyed.

  “Come on,” Soren said, frowning. “I have a sense of humor.”

  “Not lately,” Declan said. “Sorry, man, it’s true. Since all that drama with Bethany OD’ing and the band breaking up, you’ve been a little dark, dude.”

  “Bullshit.”

  But Soren shifted in his seat, eyes ahead on the big marquee lights of the club ahead of them, looking for the valet but thinking about how they might be kind of right. He’d always been a reserved kind of guy, more so after Julia, but since Bethany OD’d, maybe things had been different. He hadn’t known he’d stopped laughing, for Chrissakes. He sounded like a frigging robot.

  “Soren,” Declan said sharply. “Why are you still beating yourself up over this crap? Bethany even knows it wasn’t your fault. She lied to you about her pill habit, you broke up with her, done. What she did after that, she did for her own reasons. She’s pissed that you think it was your fault.”