by Lynda Aicher
“The partnership was set up so only the names of the original owners are on record.” Noah waited for a response but got none.
The media had kept personal names out of the attacks last year when the then city-councilman Remington Harcourt had gone after the sex industry, targeting BDSM clubs specifically. It had been a personal vendetta disguised as a political move to get back at The Den for banishing him from the club and spreading the word that he abused subs. The irony of Harcourt being a well-known Dom within the BDSM community had killed his political career when a videotape showing Harcourt in action had found its way into the greedy hands of a local news station.
“Why would he do this?”
Vanessa’s question was mumbled, more of a thought spoken out loud. Noah answered anyway. “I’ve been running that through my head all night and can only come up with one answer.”
They both looked at him, but Deklan spoke first. “Revenge.” The most basic motive for so many violent acts. His soft curse mirrored Noah’s feelings on the situation.
Vanessa shook her head in a slow motion of disbelief. “I can’t get my head around it. How could anyone do something so destructive out of revenge? I mean, I get that some people are pure evil, but this…”
Again, all thoughts he’d already had. “We don’t know for certain that it was him. But,” he paused until he had their attention again. “We should act like it is until we know differently. That means you should go home before the police get here.”
“No.”
“Yes,” he fired right back. “As of now, you have zero connection to the accident or the people in it, and it needs to stay that way. We get it. We know you want to be here, but you can’t be.”
Her head was shaking again, the line of her jaw sharp with the tight hold of her rejection.
“I agree with Noah,” Deklan said before she could voice her objection. “You and Marcus have others to think about.”
“But what about you guys?” She flailed a hand at him. “You can’t expect us to just walk away and pretend we don’t know any of you. That we don’t care.” She swung her focus to Noah. “And what about the club? Someone has to be there, too. If you take Marcus and me out of the equation, that leaves you and Rock with everything.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Yes, Deklan.” She glared at him. “You, Jake and Seth have more important things to worry about right now. That isn’t meant in a bad way—it’s just another stinking reality of the situation.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Noah said before Deklan could respond. “We can close for a few days, and then there are others who can step up. Rock and I can meet with the employees. There are things you and Marcus can do, but you shouldn’t be seen near the club.”
“Or here,” she snapped.
“Or here.” He didn’t like it either, but there was really no other option. “Write up a few press statements. Give us pointers on what to say to the employees. Draft up a letter to go out to the BDSM community. We’ll need all of those. Marcus will know the staff situation. He can guide us remotely.” With Quinn being an actress and their having a new baby to protect, Marcus should take them on an extended vacation where the media wouldn’t find them.
“He’s not going to like that.”
“Probably not,” Noah agreed. “But his options are limited. Like yours.”
“What about you?” Deklan asked.
“I’ll be fine,” Noah assured him.
“How do you figure?”
“I’ve spent the last ten years building up my law practice and over fifteen in the local BDSM community. Where do you think I acquire the majority of my clients?”
Deklan gave a low grunt. “Okay. But if things turn bad, you need to bail.”
“I’m the club’s lawyer. It’s part of my job to defend the business against slander and to protect its assets. That includes all of you.” He shook his head, his conviction as firm as his voice. “I won’t be bailing on anyone.”
“But you expect Marcus and me to do just that,” Vanessa countered.
“Protecting your partners isn’t bailing.” Noah held her gaze until she closed her eyes and turned away. “I know you’ll both help however you can.” He understood her resistance, even sympathized. Yet there was no changing the hard facts.
The door swung open from the surgery area, and all the attention in the room went to the women in blue scrubs. There was a collective inhale before she said, “The Sturgeon family?”
A ripple of expelled breath seemed to expand through the room as an older woman stood, two people who looked like her children flanking her.
Noah tracked their progress to the doctor, the brief second of tense expectation draining from his shoulders. The up-and-down rise of hope and letdown had been repeated multiple times since they’d arrived, and each one left him a little more weary.
He was tempted to lean his head against the back of the seat and close his eyes, but there was no chance of his resting. He rubbed his palms together and forced himself to pick up their discussion. “Rock said the police were on their way here.” He stared at Vanessa, hating that he had to push this.
The controlled assurance that made her a hell of a Domme came out in full force. “I am not leaving until we know how everyone is. I’m not moving on that.”
He’d expected no less. He’d be exactly the same way. “Then you should sit across the room so they don’t know you’re with us.”
“Why? What does it matter?”
“It shouldn’t.” He gave that to her. “But do you want to take the chance? Make the detectives do their jobs. I don’t want to give them anything before we must. Your being here is one of those things.”
“What did Marcus do then?” She shifted forward, eyes dark with her intensity. “If the police were already over there?”
“Rock convinced him to take a walk.”
She sunk back, defeat settling hard on her features. She shoved her hair away from her face, which only made her scowl seem fiercer. “I don’t like this. None of it.”
He could only nod in understanding. There was nothing to like.
Deklan shifted, cradling the arm in the sling. The pain etched on his face had sagged with the grief and fear that settled deeper the longer they waited.
“Did they give you any pain meds?” Noah asked.
Deklan grunted, motioning toward his head. “Not with the head wound. The whole concussion thing…” There was no point in arguing that he shouldn’t even be there.
The door to the surgical area swooshed open at the same time that two men in suits pushed through the door from the hallway. The tension in the room twisted tight in the second it took everyone to eye both doorways.
There was no doubt in Noah’s mind that the men in suits were the police detectives they’d been expecting, but it was the doctor who held his attention. His heart rate increased in the short time it took the lean man to tug his surgical mask away from his mouth. He glanced at the clipboard in his hand, then looked up to take in the room.
“Mr. Bakker?”
Noah’s heart dropped to his twisting stomach as he bolted to his feet, Deklan and Vanessa right behind him. The detectives were forgotten, along with the other concerns that hung over him as he headed toward the news that could change everything.
Chapter Six
Liv pushed on the heavy wooden door and stepped through the back entrance to Noah’s home. The scent of cinnamon and cloves hit her as she took in the wood-framed arches that matched the hardwood floors and the unlived-in neatness a glance into the living room and kitchen provided.
Nothing was out of place. No random stack of mail or pile of shoes by the entry. Missing was the forgotten newspaper on the bar or side table, the dirty dish in the sink or chair left pulled out. Even the line of coat hooks next to the door stood empty. The place was Realtor-ready, and that left her a bit creeped out in a don’t-want-to-mess-it-up way.
She laughed to herself and sh
ook her head, the wet ends of her ponytail tickling her nape. To save time, she’d shoved her things in a bag and showered at Rock and Carter’s place before they’d headed to the condo complex where three of the others lived.
Carter had explained how Deklan, Kendra, Cali and Allie all had condos in the same building unit where he’d lived before moving into Rock’s loft. The closeness was somewhat weird, and he’d chuckled at her expression. But it also reinforced the family-like nature that bonded the friends together.
Carter came up behind her and closed the door. “Have you been here before?” he asked, shuffling his feet on the rug. The ends of his dark hair were still damp like hers, and his cheeks were pink from the cool morning air. His fresh face and confident air gave him an intriguing contrast of handsome suitor or boy-next-door. He was also openly gay and in love with the man who’d spent hours creating a new website for her youth center.
“No. You?” She lifted her brows.
“No.” He glanced around, shoes squeaking on the hardwood with each step down the hall. “I’m guessing his bedroom is upstairs then.”
They’d been through this same scenario three times now, and she still couldn’t shake the sense of invasion that tickled the hairs on her nape as she followed him up the wooden staircase, appreciating the well-preserved charm of the older Tudor-style home. She had to clench her fist to keep from reaching out to tilt one of the pictures on the wall or move a knickknack on the hall table. Would Noah notice? Her lips quirked. He’d definitely notice.
They passed two smaller bedrooms before finding the master at the end of the hall
“I’ll grab his bathroom kit,” Carter said, his voice hushed. “You can find some clothes.”
The cool tones of the slate gray walls were accented by the dark area rug and black duvet on the large bed. The lack of clutter on the nightstands wasn’t a surprise, but she had to turn away to keep from tugging one of the drawers open just to see if anything was in it.
His walk-in closet was probably part of the attic at one point. Two steps up from the main room, the ceiling sloped with the roofline and was completely done in wood—floors, walls, shelves and ceiling. The scent of cedar filled the room and instantly reminded her of Noah and her grandmother’s antique hope chest. Both brought a warm sense of comfort.
She stood at the entrance, too in awe to proceed farther. Rows of neatly hung suit jackets, pressed shirts and creased pants filled the racks in color-coded perfection along both walls. Sweaters were stacked in ordered piles on shelves over the racks, and a long shoe cubby held more variations of black and brown men’s dress shoes than she’d known existed. Did he really need that many shoes?
She walked down the center of the closet, grazing her fingers over soft cotton and smooth silk. Names of top designers jumped out at her from the collars in a parade of influence and wealth she’d previously guessed at but now confirmed. The value of the items in that closet was probably more than she spent on rent for the entire year.
Did he even own any jeans?
She turned around to scan every shelf and hanger. Not a single pair of jeans, sweats or comfy pants in sight. He’d even worn slacks to the hockey game last night. If that was his concept of relaxing, then he needed more help than just a clean set of clothes.
“You ready?”
Carter’s voice filtered in through the doorway, prompting her to action. She slid a pair of black pants from a hanger, paired it with a white button-up and grabbed a gray sweater—cashmere, of course—in case he wanted layers. There was a black gym bag in the corner, so she tossed in a pair of shoes and set the folded pile of clothing on top.
“Got everything?” Carter asked as she exited the closet.
“Need socks and underwear,” she said, scanning the floor-to-ceiling set of drawers and doors. Maybe that was where he hid his casual clothes. She quickly cracked drawers open until she found what she needed. Boxers, briefs and boxer briefs were stacked in neat piles, ready for whatever Noah felt like wearing that day. And today?
“Which ones do you think?” She turned to Carter.
He frowned and moved in to glance in the drawer. “Hell if I know.” He grabbed a pair and shoved them in the bag. “Let’s go.”
Boxer briefs it was then. She found the color-coded array of socks in the next drawer and added a black pair to the bag before she followed Carter downstairs. If her hand accidently nudged one of the wooden bowls on the hall table, it was definitely because of the duffel bag.
Carter had two bottles of water and a bag of trail mix when she found him in the kitchen. She set the bag on the marble counter, and he added the items to Noah’s stuff. They’d done that for Deklan, Allie and Cali, too. Clean clothes, snacks, water, toiletries—whatever they could think of to ease their wait.
“Let me get his briefcase,” she said as she left the kitchen. The office was in a room off the front. Sedate yet refined, it matched the rest of the house. She’d thought there might be a glimpse of the real Noah here, but evidently this was the real man. Neat, tidy, closed up with everything in its place.
The soft-sided leather briefcase sat on the big wooden desk, like he’d said. She was tempted to explore further, certain there was some clue here about the man behind the controlled display, but there wasn’t time.
“Seth is next then?” she asked when she returned to the kitchen.
Carter swung the duffel bag over his shoulder and headed toward the back door. “Umm…” He ducked his head.
“What?”
She locked the door behind her and hurried down the walkway to the truck in the back driveway. The yard was on the smaller side, but neatly maintained. Fall leaves scattered the lawn with shades of reds and yellows that begged to be kicked and tossed around while parents watched from the brick patio. It had a cozy appeal that contrasted with the reserved interior of the home. No doubt there was a gardener to thank for that.
“You know where Seth lives, right?” She checked her phone as they left Noah’s driveway. Nothing. “Or do I need to ask someone?” A scowl drew deep lines in Carter’s brow when she looked to him. “What? It can’t be worse than the two-star apartment I live in.”
Her place wasn’t exactly a dive, but the small space she shared with her mostly absent roommate rated well below the homes they’d visited today. Vanessa had offered many times to get her a better place, just like she wanted to buy her a new car. Succeeding on her own merit filled a large part of Liv’s self-worth and she refused to give that up.
Carter shifted in his seat, hands flexing on the steering wheel. “How much do you know about all of them?”
She frowned. “What do mean? They’re friends of Vanessa. People she knows through work.”
“Okay.” He wet his lips. “Seth lives above the club he owns.”
“I thought he owned a restaurant.” That was what she’d assumed after he’d donated the food for the carnival.
“They do serve food there.”
“So what’s the big deal?” Now she was confused. “So he owns a club. Does it really matter right now? Wait. Does he have anyone to run it for him? Will he need help with that?” Her mind was already off with a dozen things she could do. It also made her think of everyone else’s jobs. “They’re all going to be out for a while. Noah was making calls last night. I think—”
“Hold up.” Carter chuckled. “You’re thinking too fast for me.”
“You were there,” she insisted. “There’s no way any of them are going back to work soon. The ones who aren’t seriously hurt are going to be with the ones who are.”
The silence filled in around them as the truth of that settled in. She checked her phone again, annoyed and relieved at the blank screen. They’d been gone for almost two hours and still no word.
“Have you heard from Rock?” She glanced at him. “Anything from the other hospital?”
“Nothing recent.”
They drove in silence until Carter exited the highway into the industrial sectio
n of town. He weaved through the area, passing warehouses and manufacturing plants before he pulled up to a lot secured by a gated chain-link fence behind a four-story brick building. The structure itself was well maintained but nondescript. What kind of a club had this level of security? Maybe the area wasn’t that safe at night.
Carter texted someone, and a few seconds later the gate slid back, allowing them to enter.
“Well, isn’t that special,” she intoned. She might be functioning on no sleep, but the entire setup felt like overkill for a simple nightclub. “What kind of place did you say he owned?”
Carter pulled into the underground garage and parked the truck in a spot that had a Reserved for Rock sign posted on the wall. A quick scan down the row noted similar plaques for Seth, Deklan, Jake, Marcus, V and Noah. The puzzle shifted into order that quickly.
Vanessa had been hiding something else from her. But why?
Carter was out of the truck before she could drill him with questions. The scent of oil and gas fumes slammed into her when she shoved her door open. She reared back, gagging against her hand. The reaction was new and instant. Her stomach heaved and she fought it back with a hard-won swallow. Her skin was flushed and clammy and in that second, she was back at the accident scene.
“You all right?” Carter’s voice reached her through a hollow echo that could’ve been from the garage, but she doubted it.
She blew out a breath and forced herself to answer. “Yeah. I’m coming.”
More prepared, she slipped out of the truck. Another hesitant inhale proved that the smell was typical to most parking garages, one that had never bothered her before. Hopefully she wouldn’t have that reaction every time she caught a whiff of gas fumes.
She was almost back to normal by the time she stepped into the elevator with Carter. He didn’t comment about her nose being tucked into her collar. She was thankful she’d switched coats at home so all she smelled was the scent of the spicy dinner her roommate must’ve made last night.
They exited the elevator on the top floor. A cubed warehouse-sized window distorted the sunlight where it shone through at the end of the empty hallway. Carter went straight to a doorway on the left and used the key to let them in.
