Unexpected Protector (Isthmus Alliance)
Page 8
“I know you want to believe that, but I have a hard time she’s made such a drastic change so quickly and it’s going to be permanent.” Dylan stares straight ahead, his brow furrowed, as the tires break free from the pavement. It would be nice if the roads were just a bit slicker so that he had to focus solely on keeping his beloved car on the road.
“Look,” he continues. “Holly has Tasha so messed up in the head I’m not sure she’ll ever be right. I’d rather not have to deal with helping you come out of that mindfuck too. All I’m saying is you need to be careful.”
“You think I don’t know that?” My tone is more biting than intended, but dammit, he’s talking to me as if I’m his kid brother, not a friend and equal. “Right now, I’m trying to help her see what’s buried deep inside of her. I get the feeling no one has ever done that before and I want to help her.”
My stomach churns as I think about whether I am fooling myself. It’s easy to say I’m not rushing anything with her, but the truth is the girl has had me tangled in knots since long before the night she went to the hospital. I used to see her around with Nathan and wanted nothing more than to find a reason to pull her away from him. If she had never gotten messed up with him, who would she be today? If I had followed up with her after that accident, could I have convinced her to break free? Would it have been too late, even then?
We pull into the parking lot next to Marquee and sit for a moment in the dark, neither of us saying anything. Dylan runs a hand over his bald head after pulling off his winter cap. I never understood why he does that, it looks almost as if he’s smoothing the hair he doesn’t have.
“You know her friends are going to be here, right?” Dylan’s trying to prepare me for the inevitable confrontation. I haven’t seen the bondage bitches since the night I kicked them out of Holly’s hospital room and I could sure as hell do without seeing them tonight. But Dylan’s right, those skanks never miss the chance to come out and play.
“Yep.” I stare straight ahead, reminding myself that it will be much harder for me to talk myself out of any legal problems now that I quit my job. While some of the guys understood that my departure had nothing to do with Holly or the investigation, more of them think I’ve lost my mind to the promise of a hot woman in my bed. Knowing my luck, assholes like Preston would be the ones on duty if one of those so-called friends starts something with me and then decides to cry foul.
“Keep your fucking head in the game tonight, Tommy. You can tell me whatever you need to make things seem better in your mind, but I know you’re sitting there worrying about her right now.”
I glance his way, prepared to dispute him and he raises an eyebrow. “Tell me I’m wrong, I dare you. Look, you have the same look in your eyes that Tasha gets when I give her the same warning. I love both of you, in different ways, and I’m not going to be able to sit back and watch anything happen this time.”
We step out of the car and make our way across the parking lot. Because Vic appreciates us helping him make sure things don’t get out of hand back in the playroom, we’re able to bypass the growing line outside the club and make our way inside.
There used to be a time when I loved coming here. Despite the fact that things have quickly grown more and more out of control over the past year or two, thanks to a renewed interest in casual BDSM, it was my first introduction into the lifestyle. I was twenty-two and fresh out of the Army when Zeke brought me to Leather & Lace night. At that time, the back bar didn’t serve alcohol and there were bouncers standing guard making sure no one went back who was unable to make good decisions.
Until then, I had spent much of my life feeling like I was the strange one because when I was attracted to a woman, my thoughts immediately ran to a place where she was tied to my bed, her eyes blindfolded to keep her guessing what I was going to do to her next. Seeing scenarios similar to the one consuming me helped me realize that there was absolutely nothing abnormal about me.
It’s almost sad to see how far things have fallen since then…
Things are going well tonight. While the roads haven’t deterred people from coming out, there is definitely less alcohol being passed across the bar. It would be nice to think this could be a turning point for the club, a way for them to get back to the way things used to be, but chances of that are slim.
Unlike most nights when I volunteer to monitor, tonight I’m enjoying watching the scenes unfold in the back room. There are even a few Alliance members here, likely with partners who aren’t comfortable enough with the raw sexual nature to visit the warehouse for our private parties.
I just about fall off my bar stool when I see a blond man gently rubbing his sub’s bare back on the spanking bench. His technique is superb as his hand runs the entire length of her spine, gently cupping and caressing the globe of her ass before landing a sharp swat. The entire time, his other hand is buried deep between her legs, and I can only imagine the wet warmth coating his fingers.
What has me in shock isn’t how beautiful it is to watch him work; it’s whom I’m watching.
“Damn, he’s good,” Dylan says with a whistle.
“Yeah, he is. He’s about the–” I don’t finish my thought because I’m not sure where I want to go with it. I’ve had situations before where someone from the Alliance has popped up in professional situations, but this is the first time I’ve had the opposite happen. I hate being caught off guard.
I’m also not thrilled with the fact that the moment I put Holly’s problems in the back of my mind, Jeff shows up and I’m obsessing over her again. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I see a text message from Mary.
Mary: Did you read the list of charges?
Me: I glanced over them, what’s up?
Mary: There are federal charges here. Pretty sure they’re going for a deal. Is she going to be game?
Me: Why don’t you ask her?
Mary: I want to know what you think. She really needs to do this.
Me: I’ll go up during visiting hours tomorrow and talk to her. Tell her, if you can…
Mary: Will do.
“Hey, lover boy! Are we working or are you going to have your face glued to that screen all night?” Dylan’s tone is a bit more relaxed now that a little bit of time has passed.
“Sorry, Mary had a question for me about Holly,” I admit reluctantly. This could open another can of worms that I would rather stay closed. To his credit, Dylan keeps his mouth shut.
“What’s going on?” He’s no longer sneering at the mere thought of Holly; he seems genuinely interested in her case. Perhaps we’re turning a corner and he’ll accept the changes in her.
“Mary said there are federal charges,” I say, turning my head slightly to gauge Dylan’s reaction. “She’s pretty sure, and I would have to agree, that it’s a scare tactic. They don’t want her; they want her testimony against Nick.”
Dylan raises his glass, his mood obviously shifting at the thought of his girlfriend’s ex-husband going to federal prison on more serious charges. “Well, here’s to her making the right choice for once.”
Once I’m processed, the officer leads me into an interrogation room. Sitting in one chair is a middle-aged man wearing a button-down shirt and jeans. I don’t see a badge anywhere on his body, so I’m wondering whom it is that I’m meeting with. He assesses me with a critical eye, likely looking for signs that I’m high off my ass right now. Sucks to be you buddy; I’m staying clean this time.
Across the table from him, next to the only vacant seat, is a woman who doesn’t appear to me much older than me, with long red hair. After taking in her black lace dress and red patent leather peep toe heels, I feel bad, knowing that I’ve interrupted her Friday night with my problems. Just another person I’ve screwed over, great.
“Holly?” The woman asks, standing as she reaches to shake my hand. “I’m Mary Brunner and Tommy Reed has asked me to represent you. Before we proceed, I need to know that you will accept my assistance with this issue.”
“Ladies, if we may.” His voice compels me to sit, but I resist when I see Mary continuing to stand. I love the fact that she’s not willing to cower to whoever this man is. Only when she motions for me to take a seat do I sit.
Over the course of the next hour, the man who I quickly learned is a federal prosecutor explains the charges brought against me. They’re attempting to charge me with human trafficking, which is completely ludicrous. I wasn’t trying to sell my friend into slavery or prostitution; I just needed to get Nick Romero off my back. Hearing him explain the technicalities of the charges, my heart is racing because I start thinking he knows something I don’t. Well, he knows a lot that I don’t seeing as he’s on that side of the table and I’m the one sitting next to a defense attorney.
After nearly ninety minutes of going back and forth, protesting the charges against me, my attorney interrupts him. “Excuse me, but you and I both know this is a smoke screen. You have no intention of seeing this to trial because you know you don’t have a chance in hell of winning,” she points out confidently. I’m impressed. Mary might be one of the few women who could render me speechless. I need to thank Tommy for calling her because she might be my saving grace right about now.
“Ms. Brunner,” the prosecutor starts. “If you will bear with me, I think you will come to see that there is a method to the madness. May I continue?”
Mary nods, the strawberry curtain of hair now pulled back into a low bun. When I first walked in, she was a beautiful woman whose date my situation had obviously interrupted. Now, even though her clothes are the same, she comes across as a woman on a mission, one that will hopefully result in me being able to go home sometime in the next decade.
Without fail, the later it gets, the more inebriated the crowd is. The majority of the patrons are hanging in the front bar tonight and the play room is occupied by a number of people I’ve seen before and know won’t go overboard. I turn my attention back to obsessively checking my phone for any word about Holly. It’s crazy how this girl has managed to get under my skin so quickly. We’ve only been apart for a few hours and I’m already jonesing to see her again. More than that, I need to know that she’s okay.
“Is that thing superglued to your hand?” Dylan asks as he returns from a smoke break. I sometimes forget that he smokes when we’re here because he has managed to break the habit everywhere else. “You know Mary will call you as soon as she knows anything. Now, let’s get through this last hour and then we’ll head to the diner.”
“Tasha meeting us there?” I ask, hoping the sound of his woman’s name and the knowledge that he’ll see her soon will get him off my back.
Dylan signals the bartender for another soda. When the quirky woman places full glasses in front of each of us, Dylan places a twenty-dollar bill on the bar. “Thanks, Cami,” he says with a flirty smile. I’m pretty sure Tasha could have his nuts in a ring so tight they were turning purple and he would still flirt with the girls. Then again, hopefully she knows him well enough to know that it has never been more than that for him. She’s his only exception.
Just when I think we’re going to get out without anything major going down, I see the bondage bitches walking down the hall connecting the front bar to the back. “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. If I’m lucky, they won’t see me sitting here and come over to start shit. They’re still pretty salty that I am helping Holly turn her life around. After tonight, they can all kiss my ass.
“Let it go, man,” Dylan warns me as his eyes track mine. “They’re not worth it.”
That’s easy for him to say. His girl isn’t the one that got fucked up with them on a regular basis. Where the fuck did that thought come from? Dylan’s right, you’re falling deep.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the fun police,” Aimee sneers. Out of the three remaining freaks, it appears she has taken it upon herself to be the new ringleader in Holly’s absence. “Not sitting at home making sure Holly doesn’t piss at the wrong time?”
Without warning, I lunge off my chair, getting within an inch of Aimee’s face. “No, you stupid bitch! Holly’s in jail right now because of what happened. The only saving grace is the fact that she was smarter than to fall off the wagon again and the prosecutors might take that into consideration. Now, why don’t you three go back to the corner where you belong and leave the play to real men and women,” I shout, oblivious to the crowd gathering around us.
“Fuck you, Tommy,” she shrieks, her words slightly slurred from the alcohol she has already consumed. “Holly’s a big girl and more than capable of fighting her own battles. She doesn’t need you as her Daddy, holding her hand and making sure she’s sober.”
“That obviously worked well for her in the past, didn’t it? God, are you three really so fucking shallow that you are more concerned about losing a party buddy than you are about the fact that she’s in some serious shit because of her actions?”
Before I can continue, I feel Dylan’s strong hands grasp my shoulders. “I told you, not fucking worth it,” he snarls over my shoulder, looking directly into Aimee’s eyes. “Let’s get the fuck out of here before you do something really stupid.”
I allow him to pull me out of the bar, not letting go of me until we get to the car. “You know I’m not your fucking sub, right?” I ask sarcastically. I don’t appreciate the way he manhandles me out of the bar as if I’m incapable of controlling myself.
“Yeah, you’re too fucking ugly for my tastes,” Dylan laughs. “And if I thought you wouldn’t go after her if she didn’t shut her dirty little mouth, I wouldn’t have had to drag you out the front door.”
I hate to say it, but he has a point. “Come on, let’s go see your woman,” I say to him, dipping into the passenger’s seat.
Mary is out with the prosecutor, taking care of the details of my release. I have no clue how I managed this one, but I’m not even spending a night in jail. And all it’s going to cost me is every ounce of security I’ve ever possessed. Not a day will pass when I won’t be looking over my shoulder, worried that Nick’s thugs are going to retaliate for me betraying their boss.
The prosecutor was kind enough to leave a legal pad on the interrogation room table, along with a pen. I’ve never been one to write, but the words keep racing through my mind and I know the only way to quiet them is to write.
I tried to savor the quiet, to reflect and grow.
The silence consumed me.
I tried to cherish the darkness, to find peace.
The abyss suffocated me.
As I lay in the dark, the door opens.
You found me.
Slowly, you approach, soothing my shattered mind.
You quiet me.
You open the window, flooding my senses.
I begin to see.
The timbre of your voice fills my soul.
I begin to feel.
I'm drifting toward the light.
I've found my strength.
You reach for my hand, guiding me.
I've found my equal.
The amazing thing is, it was always there. It was up to me to choose happiness over pain.
I re-read the words once they’re in front of me, trying to draw meaning from them. The only terrifying conclusion I can come to after reading it so many times I can recite it is that these words are about Tommy. When I get out of here, the first thing I want to do is find him and let him know that, even when I seem like an ungrateful bitch, I owe him my life.
I’m still not sure what to do about his insistence that I’m more sub than Domme, but we will have time to explore that theory. As long as he’ll have me, I have no intention of leaving now that we’ve reached a deal for me to testify against Nick Romero on federal drug charges.
When the door opens, the federal prosecutor fo
llows Mary back into the room. Judging the look on her face, my time in this dank yellow room is coming to an end.