Master of Solitude (Mountain Masters & Dark Haven Book 8)

by Cherise Sinclair

  Att was overworked as well. If Sawyer could reduce the Aryan Hammer population, the cops might catch a break. “And?”

  Gustaf shoved a glass of beer across the bar to Morgan, who nodded his thanks before looking back at Sawyer. “Any chance I could hire you to look after the horses and keep an eye on the cattle?”

  Sawyer blinked. Despite the build-up, he hadn’t seen the request coming. The answer was easy. Helping out was what neighbors did. “Sure.”

  Morgan gave a satisfied nod. “We usually pay—”

  “Nah. I figure, if anything, I owe you for the work you’ve done on our shared fencing. Have you seen the other three sides of my fences?”

  Morgan winced. “Yeah, I noticed.”

  “You know, when I was little, mending fence annoyed the hell out of me.” Sawyer shifted his weight and confronted the elephant in the room. “After a year in prison, fixing fences feels like the sweetest work I’ve ever tackled.”

  After a second, Morgan chuckled. “Bet it does.”

  “When can I meet the stock and get a rundown of problems?”

  “How about tomorrow morning?”

  “Around eight?”

  Morgan nodded. “I’ll be in the barn.”

  As Masterson turned to pick up his beer, Sawyer shook his head. Bonding during a street fight. Who knew?

  *

  About the only time Mallory regretted living so far in the country was near Samhain. When she and her mother had lived in San Francisco, they’d elaborately decorate their tiny house for the numerous Halloween trick-or-treaters. Here, no one would see the decorations.

  Still, she had her own rituals and decorations to mark the changing of the seasons, even if she was the only one to enjoy them.

  After she finished attaching her straw man to the garden fence, she set a garland of rosemary on its head. Made of straw and withered plants, the King of Winter would rule over her garden until Beltane.

  At the sound of a vehicle coming up the drive, Mallory rose to her feet.

  A minute later, Becca parked and slid out of her car.

  “Becca!” Mallory waved her friend over to the garden. “You came to visit without bringing Ansel?”

  “He and his daddy are painting one of the cabins.”

  Wouldn’t that be a sight? Mallory snickered. “I’m sure Ansel will be a wonderful helper. Poor Logan.” Ansel was a little over a year old and born bossy. And adorable. His daddy was so terrifying even loggers gave him a wide berth—but Logan was pure putty in his little son’s hands.

  Clad in jeans, a chemise, and a half-buttoned flannel shirt, Becca let herself through one garden gate and the other. As Aslan left his small patch of sun to inspect the visitor, she bent to stroke his golden fur. “You know, I’ve never asked why you have two fences around your garden.”

  “For the deer.” Mallory knelt beside the folded-up plastic of the hoop row cover. Despite the freezing nights, her salad greens looked perky. “To keep deer out, it takes either a nine-foot fence or two shorter fences. They can’t judge distance well and won’t jump if they might get caught in the middle.”

  “Huh. Very sneaky…and good to know if I ever want to try growing roses again.” Becca settled on the old wooden bench, leaned against the fence, and tilted her face up to the blue sky. “It’s nice to have sun.”

  After a moment of fraught consideration, Aslan condescended to settle in her lap where petting could proceed.

  “The sun feels good.” Mallory harvested romaine and spinach for her evening salad, picked up her basket, and moved down the raised bed. “Want some Brussels sprouts?”

  “Sure, I’ll take a handful, but not more. Logan considers them disgusting mini-cabbages.”

  Mallory snapped off a tiny green ball and laughed. “What a perfect description.”

  “Don’t encourage him, Mal. He’d happily ban all vegetables from the kitchen.” Smile fading, Becca gave her a careful look. “Are you ready to talk about the scene you did with Sawyer Ware? Kallie said she saw him here the next morning, and he…”

  Ah, friends. Mallory’d known this time would come. With Serena and Missy gone to San Francisco, Kallie, Sunny, Gin, and Becca were gradually becoming good friends. And good friends shared. “I’m sorry. I should have called you last week, but I wasn’t sure what to say. Wasn’t ready to talk about it.”

  Becca’s face darkened. “Was it a bad scene?”

  “It was wonderful.” Mallory picked more sprouts. “He was wonderful, Becca. And that’s the problem.” She sighed, thinking of his resonant voice, his powerful hands, and his generosity in bed. “He told me quite honestly—beforehand—he doesn’t want a relationship. However, during sex? He was amazing.”

  “Oh.” Becca slumped back against the post. “Well, there’s a complication. You know, it would be easier if I could hate the man.”

  Mallory grinned. Her friend was quite as protective as her husband. “I know. Having him as a neighbor is awkward.” She had to drive past his place every day. If she was up late, she’d hear him leaving and couldn’t help wondering who the lucky woman was. If she sat on her front porch, she saw him working on his fences or playing with Achilles. She couldn’t keep from looking, and her heart would lift…then ache.

  Becca scowled. “Want Logan to beat him up anyway?”

  Mallory said gently, “A person has the right to decide what he wants—or doesn’t want—from a relationship. He was honest and upfront. I’m sad he doesn’t want more, but I can’t fault his character.”

  “Fine.” Pouting slightly, Becca took a minute to stroke Aslan into low purrs. “I guess the next question is if you enjoyed the BDSM portion of your evening. Since you needed a check-in, I’m assuming bondage and maybe some pain? Or did you like only the Sawyer and sex part?”

  “You know, it’s scary to understand what you’re asking.” Feeling her cheeks heat, Mallory moved to the end of the garden bed to pull a few beets. “Your guess is right, and I did enjoy it all. I trusted him to take care of me, and he did. The BDSM part fulfilled a part of me I hadn’t realized was needing something. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

  “Oh, it totally does.” Becca smiled. “I always thought sex was overrated until I met Logan, and he went all Dom in bed.”

  All Dom. Like the way Sawyer’s voice had taken on an edge of steely authority. Mallory sighed.

  “All right, then.” Becca’s gaze met Mallory’s. “Wasn’t this the weekend you’re going to San Francisco to see your friends?”

  Mallory nodded.

  “While you’re there, do you want to visit a BDSM club? Logan and I can get you a guest pass into Dark Haven.”

  Pulse quickening, Mallory considered. She’d heard of Dark Haven. Had even met a couple of the members who’d attended the Mastersons’ Fourth of July parties. “Going by myself sounds a little dangerous.”

  “I wouldn’t recommend it normally, but we’ll ask Xavier to watch out for you.”

  “I wouldn’t have to…do…anything?”

  “No.” Becca smiled slightly. “It’s good to see the various kinks and power dynamics. Since they’re having a Halloween theme night, your costume should be easy. And you’ll get an idea of whether it’s Sawyer who attracts you or merely the fact he’s a Dom.”

  Go to a BDSM club. Serena would think she was crazy.

  Mallory huffed a laugh. Serena would be right. “Sure. I’d love to see the place.”

  *

  Friday afternoon, Sawyer wandered around the reception room of Demakis International Security. The receptionist, an older woman, didn’t seem concerned with his restlessness. Come to think of it, a security and bodyguard business probably had plenty of uneasy clients.

  While driving to San Francisco, Sawyer had recalled that Atticus had helped rescue the girlfriend of a Demakis International agent named deVries.

  It was a good bet deVries would know where to find reliable, easily concealed equipment.

  A shame there wasn’t equipment
to stop a crime before anyone got hurt. Sawyer shook his head. At least the elderly woman who’d been hurt last night was going to be all right.

  At a concerned look from the receptionist, Sawyer realized his hands had closed into fists. He gave her a reassuring smile and saw her relax.

  “Mr. Ware?” Two men entered the reception room. With the lethal grace of a martial artist, the one who’d spoken was a muscular six feet. In his mid-forties with black eyes and silvering black hair, he studied Sawyer for a moment before extending his hand. “I’m Simon Demakis.”

  The owner? Jesus. Sawyer shook his hand, noting the scarred knuckles of a fighter. “Good to meet you.”

  “DeVries,” the other man said in a sandpaper-rough voice before shaking Sawyer’s hand. DeVries was a couple of inches taller than Demakis, hair cut military short—like Sawyer’s—and possessed a fit build and military posture.

  “Atticus’s brother, right?” deVries said. “You got shanked trying to keep the assholes from taking Gin?”

  “Yeah. They got her anyway.” He’d failed…and the prisoners had captured both women.

  “You’re not God, man,” Demakis said. “It was six to one, and you took out two of them.”

  “Bad odds,” deVries agreed. “You wanted to see me about getting equipment?”

  “Ah, yeah.” Sawyer hesitated. Talking to deVries about operations against the Aryan Hammers was one thing, discussing illegal tactics in front of the company’s owner was entirely different.

  From the glint in Demakis’s eyes, he knew. “Let’s talk in here.” He led the way to…hell, his office. It was a comfortable room. The cream walls and carpet were balanced by a mahogany desk and dark leather furniture. Richly colored abstract paintings depicted the Golden Gate Bridge and San Francisco’s skyline at sunset.

  Rather than establishing a distance behind his desk, Demakis took a chair in a sitting area off to one side.

  Mrs. Martinez entered with a coffee pot and accessories, asked Sawyer’s preferences, and served everyone before disappearing quietly.

  Talk about being spoiled. Sawyer shook his head…and realized from Demakis’s raised eyebrows he’d seen. “Sorry. I was thinking you’re well served, Demakis.”

  DeVries laughed. “He’s fucking spoiled, you mean. You’re right.”

  The owner’s grin showed he’d taken no offense. The laughter faded from his face. “Last time I talked with Atticus, he was pleased you were setting up as an outfitter for local guide businesses. Did your plans change?”

  “Ah, no, I’m working toward that goal.”

  “This got anything to do with Atticus getting attacked?” deVries asked.

  Didn’t it just figure deVries would catch on?

  When Sawyer hesitated, deVries frowned at Demakis. “You know, boss, having you here is putting a choke hold on the information.”

  Demakis’s gaze on Sawyer was uncomfortably perceptive. “Ware, let’s put the cards on the table. I’m not a cop. My company doesn’t break the law. Nonetheless, if you need equipment to keep Atticus from being hurt again, I’d like to assist. If this is for revenge, I’m out.”

  Sawyer considered. After dealing with prisoners, submissives, and insurgents, he had a well-developed lie detector. These two were as straightforward as they came, and they could help.

  “All right, it’s like this…” Piece by piece, he laid it out for them. A violent gang bent on revenge. A town overwhelmed by violence. A brother and civilians in harm’s way. An ex-con who couldn’t act openly, but who had a shitload of experience in covert operations.

  “Sounds clear enough.” DeVries smiled slowly. “I wouldn’t mind visiting and lending a hand. It’s been a while since I had a good fight.”

  Sawyer gave him a hard stare. “Atticus met you because your lady had been kidnapped. She’s had enough trauma in her life.”

  DeVries scowled.

  “He has a point, Zander.” Grinning, Demakis turned to Sawyer. “However, my equipment comes with a stipulation—you will call us if you get in a bind. I have friends in Bear Flat, and I don’t like knowing they’re at risk. Deal?”

  Sawyer couldn’t speak for a moment. He’d left the Teams, had no backup. These were men he could work with, could trust to have his six. “Deal.”

  “Good.” Demakis leaned back, coffee in hand. “On another subject, Atticus also mentioned you’re a Dominant in the lifestyle.”

  Sawyer set his jaw. His BDSM practice wasn’t something he shared with others. “When did my brother turn into a gossip?”

  Demakis’s grin flashed. “When I asked him. I got the impression you two shared most of your hobbies.” He set his cup down. “Zander and I belong to a local club and will be there tonight. Would you like a guest pass?”

  The question was…unexpected. More than the offer of a backup, this was an offer of friendship. “Yeah. I would.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‡

  Serena had thrown a hissy fit when Mallory’d revealed her plans for the evening. “A BDSM club? By yourself? Those people are into whips and…and whips. Have you gone stark raving bonkers?”

  But once assured that Mallory would have someone watching over her, Serena had been a wonderful help in figuring out a costume.

  Dressed appropriately—she hoped—Mallory stepped out of the taxi she’d taken from Serena’s place. No flashing signs. No floggers lying in the gutter. Just a huge brick building. Was this the infamous BDSM club? Only a small gold plate served to identify the place. Dark Haven. Looking up at the ominous black door leading into the club, she felt as if she’d shrunk to hobbit size. “I think we might have made a mistake leaving the Shire, Pippin.”

  Still, Becca and Logan had gone to some effort to get her in. “Courage, Merry.”

  She swallowed, pulled the door open, and saw only a normal-appearing reception room. Whew.

  Behind the wide desk, a young man attired in what she’d call faun-in-bondage gave her a blinding smile. “Welcome to Dark Haven. Can I have your card?”

  She shook her head at his extended hand. “I’m not a member.”

  “Oh, sweetcheeks.” He looked at her woodland nymph attire. “I love your costume. It’s perfect for our mythical creatures theme, but the club is a private one now. You have to join before you can come in.”

  Last chance to escape. Unfortunately perhaps, Becca’s friend was expecting her. It would be rude to be a no-show. “Actually, someone named Xavier was to vouch for me. My name is Mallory.”

  “Really?” He consulted a paper on the desk. “Awesomesauce. You’re cleared, but the note says you’re to wait so he can take you around.” He waved at the far wall. “I’ll have someone let him know you’re here. I’m Dixon, if you need me.”

  “Thank you.” Relocating to the wall, Mallory stood for a minute. Having an escort was wise, yet being accompanied could be awkward. The members inside would probably be doing…intimate…things and there she’d be, attempting to converse with a stranger while her face got redder and redder.

  All she wanted to do was look around; surely, she didn’t need a guide for that.

  A glance showed Dixon was occupied with a noisy crowd of elf lords and maidens. Okay, then. When a black-clad, dragon Domme walked past to enter the main clubroom, Mallory followed.

  And came to a sudden halt just inside the door.

  Holy cats. After sidling along the wall a couple of feet from the door, she simply stood and gawked. The huge room was decorated to look like a dark forest, with walls and pillars of green trees and a silvery moon overhead providing light. The costumes ranged from cute pixies to terrifying monsters, and the amount of clothing sure varied.

  Two female fairies wore nothing more than flowery tattoos.

  A Sasquatch in a full-body fur suit stomped by and, unlike the Big Foot figurines in tourist traps, this one was…ahem…anatomically correct.

  The back of the room held a flower-and-leaf-wreathed bar. Spotlights lit raised wooden stages on the rig
ht and left walls. On one stage, a horned demon in black robes was flogging a young, furry-legged, shaggy-haired Pan.

  Shouting drew her attention.

  “I don’t see what the problem is, dammit! Let me go!” A rotund drunk was purple with anger as two tall men pulled him past Mallory and out the door.

  A minute later, the two escorts reappeared and stopped inside the door.

  The taller man’s aura was a dark, dark red, and his black eyes snapped with anger. Clad in an impeccably tailored, 1800’s black suit, he wore his black hair in a long braid down his back. “He was actually going to use a whip. In his condition.” His deep voice held a slight European accent.

  In a modern black suit, the other man shook his head. “They know if they drink here, they can’t play, so some will have a few first. You can’t stop them, not unless you demand a Breathalyzer on entry and a drug test as well.”

  “You have no idea how tempting that is. Liars anger me.”

  Oh, that was the understatement of the year. She could feel fury radiating from him.

  He noticed her watching, and his black gaze met hers with a punch of power. His dark brows drew together, and his face hardened as all that anger came to bear on her.

  Uh-oh. She took a step away from them.

  He advanced. “You’re not a member. How did you get in here?”

  Under his scowl, she had an overwhelming urge to scurry into a dark corner and hide. “I was—”

  “Back off, Leduc. You’re scaring her.” To her surprise, Sawyer appeared. He put an arm around her waist and turned to get between her and the angry man.

  “S-Sawyer?”

  He squeezed her waist. “I know you wouldn’t break the rules, pet. Can you tell Leduc how you got in?”

  “One of the members, someone named Xavier, cleared me to visit.” Mallory hated the way her voice shook.