Tickle His Fancy: Trident Security Book 6 (Trident Security Series)

by Samantha A. Cole

  She used her remote to unlock her Altima, and Corey opened the door for her. “It could be, but I’d still rather go with you to the bank.”

  Smiling up at him as she climbed in, she tossed her purse and the deposit bag on the passenger seat. “Who am I to turn down a six-foot-one firefighter who wants to double as my bodyguard?”

  “Smart ass,” he retorted with a grin. “I’ll follow you over.”

  It was only four blocks to the bank she used, and when they arrived, Corey got out of his pickup truck and escorted her to the outside money drop-box. “Are you sure you don’t want to go grab dinner? Or we could bring something in.”

  They strolled back to where they’d parked after she’d deposited the canvas bag into the secured box. “I’m sure. Sorry, but it’s just one of those days and I’m exhausted.”

  Gently grabbing her elbow, he stopped her in her tracks. “Don’t apologize, Fancy. You’ve come a long way this past year, and you should be proud of yourself. But I don’t want you pushing yourself to the point of exhaustion. And if you’re tired, you’re tired. No big deal. Go home and get to sleep early, and maybe we’ll go out tomorrow night. After that, I’m on duty four nights straight.”

  She went up on her tippy-toes and kissed his cheek. “Dinner tomorrow sounds great. You can pick me up at the shop, and we can go to that new Mexican place.”

  His grin widened. “Now you’re talking. I’ll see you tomorrow, but text me when you get home now, so I know you got there safe.”

  It wasn’t an odd request from him. When Fancy started driving again after recovering from the accident, she was so tense she was surprised she didn’t get into another one. At first, Corey had followed her home, but then she gained more confidence so he didn’t need to. However, he still insisted she call or text him when she had gotten to her destination without incident.

  After saying goodbye, she started the engine and drove home to her little apartment. It was much smaller than the house Patrick and she had bought a year after they’d gotten married. While the three-bedroom ranch had been more than they needed for the two of them at the time, they’d hoped to fill it with children as soon as they could. Sadly, they never had the chance.

  Locking the door behind her, she dropped her purse on the couch on her way to her bedroom, undressing as she went. No matter how clean they kept the kitchen in the shop, she always felt sticky and covered in flour when she got home, and the first thing she wanted was a shower or bath. Today, she was going with the latter.

  Passing several pictures on the hallway wall, she stopped and adjusted the one of Patrick and her the day he proposed to her on a picnic. They’d gone to the Tampa Riverwalk, and after they’d eaten lunch, he’d pulled a small ring box out of his pocket. He’d told her he’d been trying to think of a memorable way to ask her to marry him, but everything he’d thought of was too cliché. In the end, he just did it on the spur of the moment after carrying the ring around with him for two weeks, waiting for the right time. People enjoying the beautiful, sunny day had stopped to watch him get on one knee and waited for her to say yes before applauding. Another couple offered to take several pictures with Patrick’s iPhone, and the one in front of her had been perfect for blowing up and printing. They were smiling while gazing into each other’s eyes, the world at their feet and happy times ahead. Who knew it would all end far too soon?

  Stepping away before the tears she’d fought for the past two and a half years started up again, she entered the bathroom and turned on the tub’s faucet. After checking the temperature of the water, she left it to fill while she shed the rest of her clothes and grabbed her robe from the back of the bedroom door.

  Her phone rang, and she checked the caller ID. It was her cousin, Kerry. Sighing, she sent it to voice mail because she wasn’t in the mood for another lecture on why she needed to get on with her life. She was getting on with it. In fact, the only thing she hadn’t done, yet, was date…and she still wasn’t ready for that. But her mind flitted to the handsome man who’d come in with her new client today.

  Brody Evans was definitely drool-worthy, as Jamie had pointed out after he’d left with Ms. Beckett, however, the man knew it. He was an obvious flirt and the complete opposite of Patrick, or any other man she’d ever been attracted to. So why couldn’t she forget how her skin had tingled when his lips had brushed the back of her hand? Her body’s response to him had startled her, and she’d tried to yank her hand away, but he’d held on tight for a few moments longer before finally releasing her. Well, whatever it was about the man which had triggered her reaction wasn’t something she would act on. She wanted stability in her life, not some charmer who probably had a new girlfriend every week.

  Before she tossed her cell phone on her bed, she typed a quick text to Corey to let him know she’d arrived home safely and would talk to him tomorrow. Grabbing her new book, Velvet Vixen by Kristen Anders, she decided to open a bottle of red wine and have a glass. Between the fruity alcohol, a good fictional story, and a hot bath, she would sleep well tonight, and that was all she needed for now.

  * * *

  Leaving the locker room, Brody took the stairs back up to the bar area of The Covenant, dressed in his usual Dom-wear of snug, faded jeans, a black T-shirt, and his favorite cowboy boots. He’d seen several people at the bar who he wanted to say hello to first before going into the pit, as the play area of the BDSM club had been dubbed. That was on the lower level, with the bar and sitting areas in a balcony above it.

  At the far end of the pit were two hallways leading to private play rooms. A club member Parker Christiansen, who owns a construction company, had started on a new addition last week. More private rooms, a few with themes, were being added, but the plans for the second floor were amazing. The area would have a retractable roof for play under the moonlight, weather permitting. And for ensured privacy when the roof was open, there would be a specially made netting in its place. It would let the air in and the people could see out, but anyone trying to take pictures via a helicopter or satellite camera would only get a fuzzy, dark gray photo. The Sawyers—brothers Ian, and Devon, and their cousin Mitch—take their club’s security seriously, and no expenses are spared when it comes to safeguarding their members. It helped that Ian and Dev’s father was a self-made, real estate billionaire, and the brothers have enormous trust funds. But you would never know it unless you were close to them, as Brody and the rest of the Trident team were. The men didn’t flaunt their wealth and had successfully established their own businesses and reputations while only using the trust funds for start-up expenses.

  Glancing around, Brody noted it was a little quiet in the bar area for a Thursday night, but based on the volume of noise coming from the pit, the level of activity down there was apparently high. A few people were enjoying a pre- or post-play drink, and he headed toward a small group he knew well. The rules for pre-play drinking were strict—only two alcoholic beverages allowed—and with the computer system Brody had set up for the business, the bartender and wait staff kept track of who was served what. Then the security guards had hand-held computers which scanned the club members’ access cards before allowing them entry to the pit. No one was permitted in the play areas if they had exceeded the limit, but they were welcome to relax at one of the pub tables or sitting areas along the balcony and watch the scenes from there.

  As he approached the four women and two men he wanted to chat with, he noticed the serious and worried looks on their faces. His teammates, Ben “Boomer” Michaelson and Marco “Polo” DeAngelis were there with their fiancées/submissives—Kat Maier and Harper Williams, respectively. The other two women were a married couple, Dr. Roxanne London and her submissive/wife Kayla, and it was the latter who seemed the most upset.

  He signaled the bartender, Dennis, for a bottle of his regular beer, then joined the discussion. “What’s everyone frowning about?”

  Kayla London gave him a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes, and it reminded hi
m of the cute baker from this afternoon. But the sweet sub greeted him politely as always. “Good evening, Master Brody. We were just talking about a friend of mine from Heat, Christie Lawrence. She’s been missing since last Friday night, but we just heard about it today.”

  Heat was the second most popular, private BDSM club in the Tampa area behind The Covenant. Roxy and Kayla had been members there before they’d been granted memberships here.

  Brody’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t heard about any missing persons cases recently, but then again, he’d been busy with some upgrades to the Trident computer system for the past two weeks. “Where’d she go missing from?”

  His best friend, Marco, handed him the beer the bartender had placed on the counter, since he was standing between the bar and Brody. “From what we’ve heard, there’s no sign of foul play. Her car was parked and locked in front of her condo as usual. Her phone was in the car, but her purse is gone. No sign of a struggle. She left her friends at some bar downtown, drove home, and disappeared from the face of the earth. There’s no indication she made it into her condo either.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.” He took a swig of his beer.

  “What doesn’t sound good?”

  They all turned to greet the newcomer, Master Carl Talbot. The middle-aged man with slicked back, salt-and-pepper hair was distinguished-looking, but when he dressed in his black pants and dress shirt, he could pass for a vampire in a movie. At least the older movies. Nowadays, the Hollywood men with fangs were young and handsome, catering to the teenagers who thought it would be romantic to have a vampire shower them with attention. It also didn’t help Master Carl’s image when the subs found out the man was a sadist as well as a Whip Master at the club—not that he minded, of course. But there was also a gentle side to him, which he showed during the aftercare for a sub following a scene—after he inflicted whatever pain the sub was into.

  As another couple, Master Reggie Helm and his submissive/fiancée, Colleen McKinley, joined the group, Kayla and Marco went over the details again. Reggie was a lawyer whose firm handled the legal business for Trident Security and The Covenant, while Colleen had been Trident’s secretary for over a year. It had taken her awhile to break the habit of calling the team members “Master” during business hours, but she was damn efficient and had just received a handsome raise for all she did for them.

  Sipping his beer, Brody scanned the bar and sitting areas. Sometimes, he and his former ménage partner, Marco, tag teamed Harper, but that was only when his friend approached him about it. Brody would never ask to join them since it came off as him sounding like a desperate third-wheel, which he was definitely not. There were plenty of available submissives in the club who he’d played with before, and he honestly had no preference over a duo or trio scene.

  When the subject changed among the group once again, he turned back toward Kayla. Between her and another sub, Parker’s wife, Shelby Christiansen, they kept up-to-date on the status of the submissives—who was currently collared or in a contract. They were kind of the mother-hens of the club, along with Mistress China, a Domme and one of the Whip Masters. “Hey, Kayla. Have you been down to the sub area yet tonight?”

  “Yes, Sir, about fifteen minutes ago while my Mistress was busy.”

  “Who’s available this evening?” he asked.

  “Sasha is working in the store, Sir, and Georgia was negotiating with Master Cain earlier. Oh, and Cassandra signed a temporary contract with Master Stefan last night.”

  His eyes narrowed, but Mistress Roxanne beat him to it. Her voice was deep in reprimand. “My little subbie, I don’t think that helps Master Brody at all. Instead of telling him who’s not available, skip the gossip and tell him who is. Then we will have another discussion about your chattiness when you’re asked a direct question.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” An apology was evident in her eyes, but Brody wasn’t concerned about Roxy disciplining her sub. Kayla was a bit of a brat and masochist at times. “I apologize, Master Brody. Several new submissives passed their final training class last night, so they’re available. A few of them are downstairs already.” She paused. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Sir?”

  He shook his head, not needing any further help from her since he’d overseen several of the training classes and done the initial background checks on all of them before their memberships had been approved. He analyzed every aspect of a potential member’s life before forwarding all the information to Ian, Devon, and Mitch for the final approval. “No, thanks. I’ll wander down there and do my own negotiations.”

  Excusing himself from the group and leaving his half-empty beer on the bar, he ambled over to the stairs, nodding hello to several people on the way. When he reached the security guard dressed in black dress pants, a red, button-down shirt with a black bowtie, he handed the man his membership card. The only people in the entire club who didn’t have to have their cards swiped before entering the pit were the three owners since they had written the rules.

  After getting his card back, he descended the stairs to find out what fun there was to be had for the evening. He was sure no matter what he found, it was bound to be entertaining.

  Chapter 3

  Whistling loudly, Brody drove toward his destination with the anticipation of seeing her again strumming through his veins. Her being Fancy. She would have arrived at the shop ten minutes ago at 5:00 a.m. on the dot. Through her talkative employee Jamie—the cute blonde—he’d learned a few things about the bakery owner, but not enough to satisfy his curiosity. While he could easily find out anything he wanted via the internet, for some reason he’d held off doing a background check on her past. He wanted to hear it from her instead.

  He wasn’t sure what it was about the sexy baker, but she hadn’t been far from his thoughts since he’d met her two weeks ago. Although seeing her practically every morning when he stopped in to get pastries for the office probably had something to do with it. Add in the fact his usual flair for seducing a woman was falling flat at her feet, he was craving Ms. Fancy Maguire like mad. But she seemed immune to his flirting and charm, so he was trying to think of a new way to get past her barriers.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t appear to be interested in him, it just seemed she was a little more standoffish than the women he was generally attracted to, and for some reason that made her more appealing. Sometimes things were better the more one had to work for them, and he had a feeling Fancy was worth the effort—at least, he hoped so. Each time he saw her, she seemed a little more at ease with him, but when it came to his subtle, probing questions, she would clam up or suddenly need to do something in the kitchen.

  Usually, his seduction of a woman lasted only a day or two, if that, before she fell into bed with him, or, as in the past, with him and Marco, who had been his best friend since boot camp. His buddy had introduced him to the pleasures of sharing a woman when they’d visited an underground BDSM club in Paris while on a joint training mission there between the U.S. and French militaries. From then on, they’d participated in many ménages together. The only thing which had taken some getting used to was the occasional, unintentional contact between them while pleasuring a woman, since they were both straight as arrows. Now, he didn’t even notice it most of the time.

  Since Marco and Harper had permanently hooked up, Brody had been an occasional third with them, once every four to six weeks or so. The only other ménages he’d been involved with in the past seven months had been with Carter, when the U.S. government spy had been in town, and once with Mitch and Cassandra for the cute waitress’s birthday.

  While he enjoyed ménages—it was a great way to please a woman—he didn’t necessarily need them like some people did. He could take them or leave them. As long as the woman he was with was completely sated by the end of the night, along with himself, then all was good.

  Making a left into the parking lot of the bakery, he was surprised to see a police car and the Tampa PD Bomb Unit’s truck
. The sun wasn’t up yet, but it was light enough to see one uniformed officer was standing on the sidewalk with Fancy and Sal, staring at the store’s shattered front display window. Fuck! What the hell had happened?

  He didn’t see the bomb guys, but since the cop, Fancy, and her employee were standing so close to the shop, he assumed there wasn’t any chance of an explosion. Throwing his truck into park, he jumped out and hurried toward the trio. Unable to keep his concern from showing, he headed straight for Fancy and gently took her elbow until her troubled gaze met his. There was no mistaking the tears which were threatening to fall, but she was managing to keep them at bay—barely. “What happened?”

  Shaking her head, she was about to answer him, when the cop interrupted. “Who are you?”

  Annoyed, but knowing not to step on any local law enforcement toes unless it was necessary, he turned toward the uniformed man. “Brody Evans. I’m with Trident Security.” The recognition of the company name flashed in the officer’s eyes, so Brody knew no further explanation was needed. “What’s going on and why’s the bomb squad here?”

  “Hey, Egghead. What are you doing here?”

  He sighed in relief when Sgt. Barry Templeton and Officer Freddie Mendoza appeared in the doorway of the shop, sans their bomb gear. Mendoza was talking to someone on his cell and stepped to the side as his supervisor approached the group. “I was going to ask you the same thing, Sarge. I was stopping in for my morning sugar rush to bring to work with me. We’ve got some early training today since it’s supposed to be over 100 degrees later. Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”

  Templeton offered his hand, which Brody shook. “No explosives. Just a shattered window from a brick thrown through it.” He tilted his head in Sal’s direction. “Sal is Freddie’s cousin. He was in the kitchen when he heard the window shatter about twenty minutes ago.”

  Brody switched his attention to the shorter man, who held up his hands in frustration. “But I didn’t see anyone. I wish the fuck I did. I would’ve kicked the bastard’s ass.” He grimaced when he realized his employer was still standing next to him. “Excuse the language, Fancy.”