by Tony Ramagos
Conroy was getting out of his marked patrol car outside the home of Nicolas and Connie Calvert and their children, Temperance and Josh, when she pulled in behind him. He frowned as she and her passengers got out of the car, closing their doors quietly behind them.
“You didn’t mention you were bringin’ an entourage.”
Tamara didn’t miss the disapproval that rang in his tone. “Dillon and Korbin are the ones who gave me the tip. They have a connection to Temperance Calvert and wanted to be here for moral support. Seth is here because…” She shot Seth a look and then gave Conroy a shrug. “Well, because he’s Seth.”
She swore she saw the corner of Conroy’s lips twitch at that. “At least you managed to leave Colt and Darryl behind.”
Yeah, that hadn’t been easy, but she’d finally convinced them that a swarm of people showing up unsuspectedly at the Calverts’ wouldn’t be good. It was bad enough Seth and the boys had insisted on tagging along. She hadn’t been able to talk them out of it.
“You’re sure about this?” Conroy asked, his attention landing on Dillon and Korbin. “About the Calverts’ boy?”
Before either of them could answer, the front door of the house opened. The girl, obviously Temperance Calvert, given the fact that she couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen, slapped a hand over her mouth, her light brown eyes instantly filling with tears as her gaze landed on Dillon and Korbin.
“You told them. You said you would help me figure out what to do.”
“We figured out what to do, and we did it.” It was such a Seth-like comment, a Seth-like thing to do, that Tamara felt herself gape at Dillon’s back as the boy headed toward Temperance.
Temperance was shaking her head. “I trusted you. How could you let him do this?”
That question was aimed at Korbin as the boy fell into step beside Dillon. “Temperance…” Korbin began, but both boys stopped in their tracks when an adult male came into view behind her in the doorway. The man was dressed in loose-fitting pajamas. Temperance was wearing an oversize T-shirt that covered her to her knees. Given the early hour of the morning and their attire, it was clear they had just begun to stir, although, from the looks of Temperance, Tamara would’ve bet the girl hadn’t slept in the last twenty-four or more hours.
“What’s going on here, sheriff?” Nicolas Calvert demanded, his voice loud enough to carry to the driveway, where Conroy and Tamara were still standing by the cars. The man slid an arm around Temperance and drew her close. “What have you said to my daughter to upset her?”
Tamara didn’t give Conroy the chance to speak. She started slowly for the front steps and pasted her best comforting smile on her lips. “Mr. Calvert, I’m Tamara Royce with the state fire marshal’s office.”
Confusion mixed with recognition and suspicion in his eyes. “You’re the arson investigator.”
“Yes, sir. I’m here to speak with your son. Is Josh home?”
Nicholas shot a quick glance over his shoulder into the house behind him. “He’s in his room in the basement. Why do you want to—”
“Not anymore,” Seth said loud enough to bulldoze over Nicolas.
Tamara spun around, catching sight of a figure running around the side of the house in her peripheral vision.
“Josh!” Nicolas called after his son. “What are you doing? Get back here!”
The boy wasn’t stopping. If anything, he was picking up speed, making a beeline for the street.
“I’ll get him,” Seth said and bolted after the boy. “Josh, stop!”
This time, he did stop, right at the edge of the front yard. He whirled around, and Seth skidded to a halt.
“Shit,” Conroy cursed.
Tamara glanced at him, saw him reach for his holstered gun, and looked back at boy and man facing off near the street. That was when she saw the gun in Josh’s hand pointed straight at Seth.
“Josh!” Temperance screamed, moving out of her father’s embrace. She stepped onto the narrow front porch, tears streaming down her cheeks from eyes wide with fear. “No. You can’t do this.”
Josh looked at his sister, his young face twisted in an expression of pure scorn. “You did this. I came to you, told you what I did to protect our family, and you turned me in to the cops!”
“Temperance,” Nicholas said as he stepped onto the porch beside his daughter, “what is he talking about?”
Josh wasn’t paying any attention to his father. His focus had landed on Seth again, and he was poking the barrel of the gun accusingly in the air between them. “You! You knew they’d brought my mother in your slave club.”
“I didn’t, Josh,” Seth told him calmly, speaking barely loud enough for his words to carry across the yard. “I didn’t know.”
“How could you not know?” Josh’s scream was full of derision. “You own that fucking place.”
“No one knew it was me.” The new voice in the commotion had everyone jerking their heads to the door of the house. Connie Calvert stepped onto the front porch, her hands fisting closed the long, flowing robe she was wearing. “I always wore a mask when I went to the Cowboy’s Den, son. I didn’t want anyone to know it was me.”
“Except for Nathan and Guy Johnson,” Nicholas said softly, understanding dawning in his voice. “That’s who took you there, isn’t it? That’s who you’ve been having an affair with.”
Connie nodded as she looked at her husband. Then she closed her eyes and whispered, “Yes, and, oh God, all of this is my fault.”
No one argued with her. Whether out of shock, hurt, or hatred, no one moved closer to her or made any attempt to comfort her when she crumpled.
His expression etched with pain and betrayal, Nicholas turned back to his son and started slowly and cautiously across the yard toward the boy.
“Josh, I know you’re hurting. I am, too. So is your sister.”
Connie’s sobs got louder at that, but they went ignored by everyone in the yard. Tamara didn’t feel an ounce of pity for the woman. She’d had an affair Nathan and Guy Johnson, one her son had somehow discovered, and one that had not only ripped the whole family apart but one that had also led her son to commit a terrible act of hatred in the stupid hope that it would keep his family together.
“You’re angry, and you’re feeling betrayed,” Nicholas went on. “So are we, but we’ll get through this. Nothing has been done that can’t be fixed yet, but if you don’t give me that gun—”
“Yes, it has, Dad.” Even from the distance, Tamara saw Josh’s bottom lip quiver. “I set those fires, and they’re going to take me to jail.”
Tamara’s mind whirled as options slammed into one another in her head. The boy had committed a crime, but he was so young. He would have to face the consequences of his actions, but was there something that could be done to see that his mistakes didn’t truly ruin the rest of his life?
“Come on, Seth.”
Tamara swore she heard Dillon mutter the words and wasn’t the least bit surprised when Seth said, “I’ll help you, Josh.”
Josh looked at Seth as if he’d suddenly sprouted a second head. “Why would you help me? I just told you I’m the one that burned down your place.”
“Yeah,” Seth drawled, “but I know why you did it. You were angry with your mother, heartbroken. You lashed out on my club and then lashed out on the men you believed were taking your mother from you.” He paused as tears began to stream down Josh’s face, but the boy’s hand was still holding the handle of the gun in a death grip poised to shoot. “I’ve got a lot of influence in this town, Josh, but I can’t use it to help you if you shoot me.”
Tamara didn’t think anything could’ve cut through the tension-filled silence that followed. No one moved. She was pretty sure no one was even breathing. She knew she was holding her breath as she waited for Josh to make a decision. Then, she heard sighs and whimpered cries of relief as the boy finally lowered the gun. Josh passed the gun to Seth, and Nicholas tackled the boy, drawing his son into his
arms in a tight bear hug.
Seth turned, met Tamara’s gaze, and she knew by the determined expression on his face that he’d told the boy the truth. No matter what it took, Seth would use his influence in this town, and any other, to help the boy in any way he could.
* * * *
“Will you stop your damn pacing? Mom’s going to be pissed if she and the dads come back from Honduras to find you wore out her favorite Persian rug.”
Darryl halted, glanced down at the rug beneath his booted feet, and wrinkled his nose as he lifted his head to look at Colt. “The damn thing is ugly anyway.”
Colt barked a half-laugh and toasted the air between them with the glass of whisky in his hand. “Never said it wasn’t, little brother, but Mom loves it.”
Darryl shook his head and started to pace again. “Whatever makes the woman happy.”
“You know what the dads have always said. That’s the golden rule.” Colt took a swig of his whiskey and snacked his lips. “Can’t say they weren’t right, either.”
Darryl knew their fathers were right. Hell, they’d been right about most things in their lives. “What the fuck is taking them so long to get back?”
“Last I heard they’re not coming back for another two weeks. The dads said Mom is wanting to—”
Darryl rolled his eyes. “Not the parents, numbskull. I’m talking about Seth and Tamara. They’ve been gone all damn day.”
And hadn’t bothered to call to fill them in on what had happened this morning at the Calvert place or what they had been doing since. Darryl had considered going to town to look for them, but Colt had put the brakes on that idea, reminding him that, even though Seth was with her, Tamara was doing her job.
“There must have been something to the information those boys gave her this morning.” Colt crossed the floor of the front parlor to the wet bar in the corner, poured two shots of whisky and passed one to Darryl. “Drink that. It’ll calm you down, little brother.”
Darryl was grateful for the shot, though he didn’t tell his brother as much. He took it, knocked it back, and enjoyed the burn all the way down his throat. If did help to calm him, if only a little. “If Dillon and Korbin were right and the Calverts’ boy set fire to the Den because their mother had been running around on their father with two of our members…”
“Yeah.” Colt sighed and polished off what remained of the whisky in his glass before taking Darryl’s from his hand and heading to the bar to refill them both. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about that. I never saw Connie Calvert in the Den, and I’m the one that oversaw everything that went on in the back rooms. She had to have come in disguise.”
“She did.” Darryl was certain of that. He’d been thinking a lot about it, too, while wandering around the house most of the day waiting for Seth and Tamara to return. “I remember seeing Nathan and Guy Johnson with a collared pet a few times. She was always decked in leather from head to toe with a mask covering her face. Could’ve easily been Connie Calvert.”
“I’m thinking we should change a few rules when we reopen,” Colt told him.
Darryl was already in agreement, even without hearing his brother’s ideas. Females had been allowed into the BDSM part of the club only when accompanied by their Master or Masters. The only exceptions were the willing submissives they employed to please the single Dom members and the few Dominatrices who frequented the club with their pets. That rule could stand, as far as he was concerned, but the full liberty they gave those Doms and Dominatrices to bring in their sub without question, identification, or background check needed some serious altering. Still…
“We didn’t cause this.” Darryl was certain of that, too, even if he had beat himself up for an hour or two after Seth, Tamara, and the boys had left, wondering if they were somehow at fault.
“No,” Colt agreed slowly. “If Connie Calvert hadn’t been able to enter the Den without the certainty that no one except her Doms would know that was her beneath that mask, she likely never would’ve walked through the doors.”
“You’re right, and we need to change a few things before we reopen the Den,” Darryl said as he took the second offered shot of whisky from his brother.
Colt gave him a considering look over the rim of his glass as he took a small swig. “How would you feel about not reopening it, about accepting the total loss and finding something else to do with our time?”
Darryl lifted a brow as he met his brother’s gaze. “You mean like Tamara?”
Colt chuckled. “She’d definitely my first preferred time consumer, and I got the impression last night she doesn’t want us to reopen.”
Darryl thought about that for a moment before he asked, “You’re thinking she has a problem with her men running such a business?”
“I think she has a problem with her men being involved with such a business. Seeing what goes on inside the back walls,” Colt elaborated. “I doubt she’d have the first problem with us reopening the restaurant, but the rest of the Den…”
Darryl might not have ever been as dominant as his older brothers, but he’d spent more than his fair share of time enjoying and partaking in the events the BDSM end of the club offered its members. He hadn’t known exactly why when he’d first started. Then he’d come around to the understanding it was an attempt to find his heart. When he found Tamara and had to swallow her rejection because of her desire for Seth and Colt, too, it had become a place to lose himself, to try to forget whom he really wanted, and maybe even find a replacement.
“We could get her more involved in the club,” he suggested and felt his dick stir to life at the idea.
Christ! Despite how he’d handled the situation when he’d walked into the playroom yesterday and found Seth spanking her while she was gloriously naked and bound to the swing, the image of putting on their own exhibition show on the stage or enjoying her incredible body while other members watched had his balls drawing up tight in their sac. He might not enjoy sharing his woman, but he did get his rocks off on letting others see him fuck her.
“I’m all for that.” Colt shook his head. “But I’m not sure Tamara would be, no matter how many spankings and commands Seth gave her.”
“Or,” Darryl said slowly as he took a swig of his whisky, “we could bring in a few more partners, let them run the show, and simply provide the financial backing.”
Colt unfolded one finger from around his glass and used it to point at Darryl. “That’s the idea I’ve been leaning more toward. I’m even thinking we should start talking about expanding, maybe open another Den in the city. Cherish would be even better. I don’t know how big the BDSM community is, but I know the ménage population there puts ours in Pleasure to shame.”
It was definitely food for thought and something Darryl knew he and both his brothers would chew on once the three of them decided to get together and hash it out.
“It does.” Seth’s agreement as the man entered the parlor had Darryl and Colt spinning to face him. “What it doesn’t have is a lot of cowboys, but we’ll hash that out later.”
Darryl didn’t need his brother to say it to put the conversation on the backburner. His mind instantly did it for him as his gaze landed on Tamara. She was standing in front of Seth, sadness and remorse clouding her angelic face. Instinct more than thought had him stepping closer to her and offering her the remainder of the whisky in his glass.
She glanced at it, gave him a soft laugh, accompanied by a, “Thank you,” and downed it in one swallow. She shivered as the liquid slithered down her throat, tipping her head back to expose the full length of her neck.
Darryl’s mother watered. He didn’t give a shit about the whiskey no longer in the glass she blindly passed back to him. He wanted to taste her. But he put that on the backburner right along with expanding the business, knowing the comfort a woman needed didn’t always mean sex.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She lifted her head, met his gaze, and gave him a small smile. “
I don’t like what’s had to be done, but I think it’s for the best, at least for now.”
“Dillon and Korbin were right, then?” Colt asked as he moved in to stand at Darryl’s side.
She sighed. “Josh Calvert started both fires. He’s a confused boy. He was devastated by his mother’s philandering, lashed out on the men and the club he held responsible, and confessed to everything.”
“What’s going to happen to him now? Where is he now?”
Tamara raked a hand down her beautiful face. “Things that I can’t stop,” she said in answer to Colt’s first question. “He committed arson. He’s confessed to it.”
“No matter what we say or do or what the Johnson brothers say or do, he’s going to have to face those charges,” Seth chimed in, sounding as solemn as Tamara. “Nathan and Guy Johnson aren’t holding him responsible, despite his confession. They’re apparently head over boots in love with Connie.”
“But that still doesn’t mean we can stop what’s going to happen to him. With the right counsel and backing, we may be able to lessen the charges against him,” Tamara rushed on, “but he’s still being charged with arson. Even at his age, the state demands it.”
“He’s with Conroy,” Seth answered Colt’s second question. “The sheriff didn’t want to put the boy behind bars, given the circumstances, but he refused to release him back to his parents just yet. He took Josh home with him for the night. I put a call in to Bower. He’ll be picking up the boy’s case in the morning.”
Author Bower was the Barlow family attorney, legally licensed to handle whatever matter the Barlow family faced.
“Then we’ve done all we can for now,” Darryl said after a moment. Seth nodded, but Tamara’s despondent sigh was what tore at his heart. He reached for her, folded one arm around her slender waist, and pulled her in against him. God, holding her was pure pleasure, but it wasn’t enough for her just now. He could see that in the plea that swam in her hazel eyes when she tipped her head back to look up at him. “What do you need, darlin’?”
