Salvaging His Soul: Trident Security Book 8

by Samantha A. Cole

  Years later, Angie had been there for Jase when his mother and baby sister had been murdered. A Marine, he’d been overseas in the middle of a nine-month tour of duty when his captain and lieutenant had given him the news. If Angie hadn’t been by his side from the moment he’d gotten stateside, he didn’t know what he would’ve done. It had been a good thing the killers had already been caught by the time he got home, otherwise he’d be the one in prison for first-degree murder instead of them.

  His back was to the bathroom when he heard the latch click. Spinning around, he froze as his jaw dropped and his cock jumped in his leathers. His eyes were huge as they took in the vision before him. “Fuck. Me.”

  His voice had been a hoarse whisper, but that was all he could manage at the moment. Brie hesitated, wringing her hands together. Uncertainty—a reaction he’d never seen on her before—was etched on her face. “Is-Is it okay?”

  Jase stared at her incredulously. “Okay? Is it okay? Okay is not even a word in my vocabulary right now, to describe how you look. Sexy, sensual, gorgeous, exquisite, erotic . . . yeah, they all might sound good to someone else, but none of them fit for me. There’s no way to describe it other than I’m hard as a fucking rock and want nothing more than to fuck you for the next three days straight while you’re wearing that. We’d only come up for air and food before I’d take you back to bed again.” He had difficulty swallowing as his gaze went from her head to her toes and back up again. “Damn, woman, you have no idea how beautiful you are, do you? Turn around, baby, slowly.”

  Her cheeks flamed red as she glanced down at the black corset, panties, garter belt, and sheer, thigh-high stockings, and then pivoted. She’d always been confident in her everyday life—it was one of the things he liked about her—but for some reason, she seemed shy and uncertain as she showed off her new purchases. The corset was made of two leather panels zipped together, which covered her from her breasts to just below her diaphragm, but they stopped before going under her arms. At that point, there were one-inch strips of leather, with exposed skin in between, crossing her back. There was nothing but more skin between the corset and lace garter, which sat atop the leather, bikini panties and was attached to the stockings. Four-inch, “fuck-me” heels and red lipstick completed the effect. Jase had no idea how he was going to be able to concentrate on anything tonight other than the vixen in front of him.

  When she came back around to face him, Jase stepped toward her—he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t stop himself if his life depended on it. Cupping her jaw with his hands, he leaned down and settled his lips on hers. He didn’t care that he was smearing her lipstick. All that mattered was getting his tongue in her mouth to taste her. Her lips parted and granted him entry. Her hands clutched his waist as she swayed on her heels, and he grasped a handful of her hair, tilting her head to give himself a better angle with which to devour her. Moving forward, Jase backed her against the wall, and his other hand dropped to the swell of her breasts. The corset had pushed them in and up, as if offering them to him, and he trailed his fingertips along her skin, just above the edge of the leather. His other hand dropped to her waist and then lower to her thigh. Grasping her nylon-covered flesh, he encouraged her to bend her knee and bring her leg up to rest on his hip, spreading her open for him to settle further against her. His hard erection throbbed within the thin layer of leather restraining it as he aligned it with her mound. When he ground his length against her clit, a gasp and moan escaped her mouth, but he caught them with his own.

  He wanted her. That was nothing new. But what was new was the feeling that being with her was so . . . so right. He didn’t know how to explain it—didn’t even know where to start trying to explain it. All he knew was how much he wanted to keep her locked up in this room, where no other man could see her in that sexy-as-sin getup. He wanted to beat his chest and claim her for himself . . . ruin her for any other man, and those feelings scared the shit out of him. But he couldn’t stop kissing her . . . couldn’t stop making her moan . . . couldn’t stop—

  A knock sounded at the door and Jase silently cursed whomever was on the other side. But then he remembered why they were in St. Lucia in the first place and reluctantly ended the kiss, pleased to see she was panting, her lipstick smeared, and her eyes dilated with lust under her droopy lids.

  When a fist hit the door again, it was louder, followed by Carter’s amused voice. “C’mon, A-man. You can get laid later. Let’s go.”

  Jase growled and barked, “Shut up, asshole. We’ll be out in a minute.” His gaze roamed her face as he tried to figure out what was rushing through that pretty head of hers. Unfortunately, she must have suddenly remembered her missing sister, as she paled and the worry returned to her eyes before he could analyze her response to their kiss—a kiss that went beyond anything he’d ever shared with her before. Stepping back, he gestured to the bathroom and lowered his voice, which now sounded gravelly. “Go on and fix your makeup.”

  Brie nodded before tearing her gaze away and doing as she was told. Adjusting his disappointed cock, Jase wondered what the hell had just happened between him and the woman he’d thought he’d one day be able to leave behind. Because whatever it was, it had just been a game changer and he had no idea what the new rules were.

  C

  HAPTER 8

  B rie’s knees shook as she exited the SUV along with Jase, Jordyn, and Carter—the men were carrying their toy bags. Perdition wasn’t a traditional club in a strip mall or business location somewhere. Instead, it was a huge residential home, probably worth over three million American dollars if she had to guess. It was on the east side of the island, about forty minutes from their hotel. The nearest house was about a half mile up the road, and the back of the property looked over the beach and ocean. If she hadn’t known it was an underground sex club, she would have thought some rich movie star lived there. With the nearly full moon, she was able to see the immaculate landscaping. There were tropical plants, flowers, and trees strategically placed amid the lush, manicured lawn, making it feel like a forbidden paradise.

  She forced herself not to glance around to see if she could spot Ian, who’d been casing the property for the past hour from somewhere nearby. As they met at the front of the vehicle, Carter put his arm around Jordyn and tucked her into his side, but his gaze was on Brie. If anyone was observing them, they’d think the foursome was just having a friendly chat before heading into the club. “Little one, I know we’ve said this a few times, but I just need to make sure you completely understand what it’s going to be like in there. This is a place where any kink goes—even taboo stuff. It’s okay to look nervous and even be put off by some things, just try not to freak. Ian’s got his eyes on the place. If we tell you to run, you do it, and he’ll get you out of here. Do not hesitate. This is what we do, and even though we’re not carrying any obvious weapons, the three of us can handle anything that might come up, so don’t try to interfere. Just run. Perdition isn’t like most clubs we go to, so don’t think this is the norm, because it’s not. That being said, with that collar on your neck, no one should touch you. Even in places like this, ownership is respected.”

  “Ownership? I’m not sure I like that word,” she said, fingering the collar Jase had put on her before they’d left the hotel. It was a simple, black, leather choker, but for some reason, knowing it would tell everyone in the club she belonged to him, did something to her insides. She liked it and that bothered her, because she didn’t really belong to him.

  Jordyn smiled, touching her own platinum collar with a black, onyx, heart-shaped charm padlocked to the front of it. “I didn’t like it in the beginning either, but now I understand that Carter owns me just as much as I own him. I’m his to protect, respect, and cherish—that’s what ownership means in the lifestyle.”

  That was a better definition than the one she had in her head of slave ownership back in the 1800s or sex slaves back in the time of Roman gladiators and orgies. “Okay. I’m ready for anyt
hing . . . I think.”

  Jase took her hand and cupped her jaw with his other one. She could tell he still wasn’t thrilled about taking her in there. “If we’re forced to do a scene, I’ll keep it simple and try not to make you too uncomfortable—although I’m sure you’ll have some embarrassment—anyone would in this setting. Just concentrate on me and trust me to keep you safe, okay?”

  As much as she was still trying to wrap her brain around the fact that he wasn’t exactly who she thought he was, she did trust him to keep her safe. “Okay.”

  “A few other things, Brie,” Carter added. “First, keep your eyes cast downward. Do not look directly at any Doms, other than Jase or I, unless given permission. And do not speak at all unless spoken to. Follow all of Jase’s commands as if you do it every day. If another Dom gives you an order that’s out of the ordinary, look to one of us to see if you should comply. If you’re not sure about something, follow Jordyn’s lead.”

  “Got it. Let’s do this before I lose my nerve.”

  Leaning forward, Jase kissed her forehead. “You’ll be fine.”

  Jordyn stepped away from her Dom and pulled the jersey-knit dress up and over her head. “These have to stay out here.” Her outfit was even more revealing than Brie’s. The black, leather bra and tight, matching boy shorts, hugged her size six curves. The bottoms had a zipper that went from under her belly button, down between her legs, and up to just above the crack of her ass. Her five-inch stilettos could do some serious damage if she kicked someone, and Brie figured that was the point.

  Taking off her own cover up, Brie handed it to Jase, who placed both garments on the front passenger seat before locking the vehicle. “All right, ladies and gent, let’s do it.”

  With his submissive’s hand in his, the spy led them to the front door of the mansion. Two huge, muscular bouncers, dressed in black cargo pants and black T-shirts, stood sentry, and their eyes narrowed as the group approached. The slightly taller man on the left asked, “Who are they?”

  Brie assumed he was talking to Carter, but she couldn’t be sure since he was eyeing the two women. She also didn’t miss the holstered gun on his hip and the coiled bullwhip hooked onto his belt on the opposite side. His partner also had a gun strapped to his side in a shoulder holster. Stopping in front of the man who’d spoken, Carter let go of Jordyn’s hand and wrapped his arm around her tiny waist. His tone was non-confrontational. “Master Alphonse, this is my sub, Jordyn, and these are friends of ours, Master Jase and his submissive, Brie.” Ah. This was the owner’s right hand man that Carter had mentioned earlier in his suite when they were going over the floor plans and security measures in the club.

  “Master Taye didn’t put your name on tonight’s list, and he definitely didn’t know you were bringing friends. You know you’re supposed to let us know you’re coming.”

  Carter shrugged nonchalantly. “Sorry about that—it slipped my mind since this was a last-minute vacation. I’m sure if you let Master Taye know I’m here with guests, he’ll be more than happy to accommodate us for the evening.”

  Master Alphonse silently glared at the other Dom as if trying to make up his mind about bothering the boss. Seconds passed before he pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and made a call. When someone answered, he simply said, “Need approval at the door.” There was a pause. “Master Carter and a few friends.” Another pause, this one longer. Then without another word, he disconnected the call, put the phone back in his pocket, and crossed his arms.

  The other guard held out his hand. “Bags.”

  Carter and Jase handed over their duffels. Setting them on a nearby bench, the man inspected every item in them and felt around for hidden pockets.

  Master Alphonse stared at the foursome as he waited for something. Or, rather, someone. Carter and Jase, however, began to chat about baseball of all things as if they weren’t worried about anything. Brie’s breathing and heart rate increased and her knees were shaking so badly, she was surprised no one could hear them knocking against each other. The urge to lift her gaze and look around was almost as strong as the compulsion to ask what the hell they were waiting for. But Jase squeezed the hand he was still holding, mutely reassuring her they were okay . . . at least, for the moment.

  Brie had no idea how long they’d stood there, but it had felt like an hour when in actuality it had probably been less than five minutes. Despite Jase’s calm outward appearance, Brie could feel the tension rolling off him. Anyone looking at him would think he was just another guy hitting a nightclub with his friends.

  And there was that damn word again—friends. Even though Carter and Ian threw out phrases like “your girlfriend” and “your woman” toward Jase, Brie wasn’t sure what she was anymore. Yes, she was his lover, but she found herself longing to be more than that. The jealousy she’d felt toward Angie earlier still remained, but she was afraid if Jase knew about it, he’d start to back off from her. He’d made it crystal clear in the beginning of their friends-with-benefits relationship they wouldn’t be going any further than that. And Brie had thought she’d be okay with having some fun with a hot guy with no commitments. Perfect, right? Except it no longer was perfect. She feared she’d done something incredibly stupid—fallen in love with Jase Atwood—or whoever he was. Damn it.

  Without warning, the front door swung open, startling her—and only her. Jase squeezed her hand again as a handsome, bald, black man, with a trimmed mustache and goatee, appeared in the doorway. He had hard, dark eyes and a grotesque scar running from his left temple to the coarse hair at the corner of his mouth. Instead of diminishing his movie-star looks, the scar actually enhanced them. Even though her gaze was somewhat downcast, Brie was able to study him with her mid-peripheral vision. She wondered what had caused his injury, but then, remembering why they were here, realized she didn’t want to know.

  He eyed the foursome, before addressing the one man he knew among them. “Master Carter. What a surprise. Not really a pleasant one, unless you’re offering me the use of yer subs for the evening.”

  His low, gravelly, British voice and unveiled proposition sent a chill down Brie’s spine and she dropped her gaze even further. She was surprised when Carter’s response sounded like he was turning down the other man’s request to bum a cigarette or something. “They’re not available for sharing tonight, Master Taye. I apologize for the unannounced visit, but it was a spur of the moment thing. I didn’t think you’d turn away an old friend who just wanted to show his other friends what a great club you have here on St. Lucia.”

  Master Taye snorted. “We are not, nor have we ever been, bessies, Carter . . . however, if you and Master . . .”

  “Jase,” Carter filled in for him.

  “Ah. If you and Master Jase would come into my office and answer a few questions—to guarantee the safety and anonymity of my members, of course—then I might consider letting you stay for a bit. It’s been a while since we’ve had fresh entertainment in the house. I’m sure everyone would love to watch you scene with your submissives.” He took a few steps back and to the side, into the foyer, and swept his hand up in a welcome gesture. “Now then, if you’ll follow me.”

  The only thing keeping Brie from puking and then fleeing was that Jase let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her into his side as he and Carter got their toy bags back. His comforting embrace didn’t ease her anxiety by much, but at least it gave her the courage to let him lead her into the foyer. Trying to be subtle, she glanced around, not that there was much for her to see. No one else was in sight although Brie was certain there were plenty of other people there based on the number of vehicles outside. The decor was red and black, with the latter being the predominant color, covering the floor, walls, and ceiling. Wrought iron sconces and a chandelier gave it a medieval feel, which seemed out of place in the normally paradise-like setting of St. Lucia. Sliding wooden doors blocked their view of the “dungeons” on either side of them, barely muffling the thumping m
usic that was vibrating the foyer floor, and the screams of pain and ecstasy. A hallway leading to the back of the mansion was to the left of a staircase. From what she remembered about the floor plans, the dungeons were on this level in areas that would normally house a living room, dining room, ballroom, conservatory, library, and any other rooms found in mansions of this size. A bar was set up where the kitchen and a breakfast nook used to be. On the two floors above them were twenty “playrooms” where people could scene in private—that is, if they didn’t mind the CCTV cameras in each one.

  When the front door shut behind them, they followed Master Taye Chaplin to an office off the center hallway. The black and red decor didn’t extend to this room. Instead, it was done in warm earth tones. Three of the walls were paneled in a rich, dark-stained wood, while the fourth, behind the large mahogany desk and a black, leather chair, was covered in floor to ceiling shelves filled with books, most with leather covers and spines. The carpet was a mossy green, which was also an accent color to the burgundies and golds in the fabrics used for the two couches, throw pillows, and a wingback chair. The only things missing were curtains since there were no windows in the inner sanctum.

  Once they were all inside, Carter closed the door as Chaplin strode across the room. The music from the play areas was further muffled, almost to the point of not being heard at all. Brie stood in silence next to Jase, wondering what was going on and why no one was talking. Wasn’t that the whole point of them coming into the office? Their host took a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked a desk drawer. After moving some items around, he pulled out a small, black box, about the size of two decks of playing cards. He flipped a switch on it and a flashing red light came on.