Filthy Dirty Secrets: Filthy Dirty Alpha Book 2

by Morgan, Grace

  Filthy Dirty Secrets

  Book 2 in the Filthy Dirty Alpha Series

  Grace Morgan

  Copyright © 2015 Grace Morgan

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Cover Design by Sara Eirew

  About the Book

  My unique brand of kink has most women dropping their panties.

  But not Lola.

  Which makes her all the more interesting. You know the old cliché that men love the chase? Hell yeah we do. I want her to fight me. Resist me.

  Because when I finally take her, I’ll have conquered not only her body, but her mind. And to a Dom like me, there is no better victory.

  This is book 2 in the Filthy Dirty Alpha series, continuing the erotic journey of Lola and Burke, and the dark, and troubling secrets he's been hiding.

  Chapter 1

  Lola

  I feel like I’m floating a million miles over Burke’s BDSM club tonight. I’ve been disconnected from reality ever since I saw the security tape revealing the dirty truth: Burke lied to me. He knew Hope. He fucked Hope. He was probably even the last person who saw her before she disappeared. And he lied to my face before he fucked me. He left me broken and weak. Weak because I still wanted him, and broken, because seeing Hope on that video tape made her more real to me than ever. With her thin body, and ribs showing, her huge eyes that were two dark pools following Burke’s every movement, and now she’s gone, vanished into the night after an intense BDSM session with the man I’ve grown to care about.

  I’m standing on an interior balcony overlooking the shadowy lounge below. My eyes have adjusted to the dimness, and I can make out the familiar faces of workers and clients now, but no Burke, not yet. He’ll be here soon, though. He can never stay away from this place for long. This club is his baby—his entire life.

  The smell of expensive vodka and even more expensive perfume drift up to where I stand along with the quiet hum of low, sensual music. I shouldn’t be up here. This balcony is reserved for the club owners, Burke and Carter, as a place to monitor the action below, but sleeping with Burke has awarded me certain privileges. The employees see me as Burke’s girlfriend, or something near to it. It gives me a lot of freedom, which I’ve happily abused in order to investigate Hope’s disappearance.

  I wish I’d never requested that security tape. My relationship with Burke was so close to becoming something more, and now it’s wrecked all over again. I want to believe that this is a good thing, that I should have kept my focus on the investigation from the start, but… who am I kidding? Burke is more than just a suspect to me.

  “Lola.”

  Every hair on my body stands on end when I hear Burke’s voice. I don’t turn to face him. One glimpse into those devastating eyes and I’ll crumble like a sandcastle at the first brush of the tide.

  Staring out at the crowd below, I straighten my shoulders, forcing some confidence into my stance, and—I hope—my voice.

  “You knew Hope,” I say, keeping my focus on a couple in the lounge below. A man and a woman, leaning close to whisper in each other’s ears. The woman wears a skimpy sequin top that sparkles in the light.

  “We’ve already been over this. Just because I own the club doesn’t mean I know everyone who walks through the doors.” Burke’s fingers brush against my bare arm. I should have worn long sleeves, but all the clothes I have here are meant to help me fit in. The top I’m wearing now is sleeveless and low-cut with a necklace of linked silver rings to draw the eye downward. I need to look like I belong here, because it’s obvious that I don’t fit in. I’ve spent my life walking a hard ethical line and believing in the stark difference between right and wrong. The people here act like the line is so stretchy as to be nearly non-existent. They live in shades of gray and thrive when the lighting is low.

  “And I should trust you because you’ve been so very cooperative,” I say, still unwilling to look at him. Part of me can’t even believe I’m back here. After I packed my bags and left for home, I’d sat there stewing for two days, avoiding Burke’s phone calls. But I knew I couldn’t rest until I had the truth, so here I am. Back in the lion’s den. Burke had stood against me at every turn of this investigation, all while pretending to be transparent. I’m only now beginning to see how deep his lies ran.

  “Lola.” His fingers curl around my arm, and he turns me around to face him. I stare directly into those navy blue eyes that light me up like fireworks going off deep inside of me. My knees melt, and my head falls back in the expectation of a kiss.

  No, no, no, I scream at my body. I’m stronger than my lust. I have to be. I pull my posture straight, but my breaths are still coming harder than they should.

  “What the hell happened to you?” Burke demands. “You just left. Wouldn’t even answer my calls… What the hell was that about, Lola?” Even angry, his voice slides over me like honey, and I hate that my body still responds to it.

  “I saw the security footage of you fucking Hope.” I want him to feel the venom in my voice, to understand how he’s cut me open after everything we shared. But most of all, I want him to have an explanation. Something that will make sense of all this, and ease the huge knot in my stomach.

  Burke releases my arm, but I can still feel the impressions his fingers left, hot on my skin. “Fine. I knew her. I fucked her. Is that what you want to hear?”

  I steady myself against the balcony railing. “Were you in love with her?”

  Burke’s head jerks back as he crosses his arms. “In love with her? I don’t run a sex club because I see love as a requirement of fucking. She was a submissive I saw a couple times. We had an arrangement, but we broke it off. Hope was an … extremist. She wanted things in a Dom I wasn’t willing to give to her. I’m not going to say we parted ways on the best of terms, but we both knew we needed different partners.” Burke sighs and runs a hand back through his hair.

  I want to grab onto that hand and hold it close to me, but I resist. I am still capable of resisting him. It feels like a lie.

  “You lied to me,” I say.

  He nods, solemnly. “I made the decision to keep my personal relationship with her out of this.”

  “But why?” Nothing is making sense anymore.

  “I hired a private investigator when she disappeared. I was worried, and not just about the club’s reputation. But I don’t know anything, Lola, I swear. The investigator didn’t turn up anything. I have no clue where Hope went, that’s why I didn’t tell you. Knowing her, she got mixed up in something too big and dark for her to handle, and whoever she disappeared with didn’t leave anything to find.”

  “You think she’s dead.” I hate saying the words out loud, but … Burke’s thoughts make sense. If Hope really was into extreme BDSM, she might have taken the thrill too far and done something dangerous. I’ve read about some of the more extreme forms of play—fire play, cutting, breath play—and they all carry serious risks if you indulge with the wrong person. There could’ve been an accident, and her partner might have covered the whole thing up by burying Hope God-knows-where. I know from experience how unlikely it is that a body would surface after something like that.

  Burke’s eyes are shining with so much sincerity that I want to believe him, but he’s already lied to me. Fool me twice…

  “Show me the report,” I demand.
<
br />   Burke takes a step back. “What?”

  “If you hired an investigator, he should have given you a report. Show it to me.”

  Burke curls his hands in to fists and looks down at the lounge. A woman below us laughs. I hold my breath as I wait for his answer. I need to believe him so badly, but I’m afraid to trust him now.

  “I can do that,” he says at last. “It’s on my laptop. We’ll go back to my apartment, and I’ll show it to you.”

  An image flashes through my brain of Burke luring me back to his place to silence me because I’ve learned too much, but I dismiss it as my crazy imagination running wild. I don’t believe Burke would really hurt me. Or maybe it’s just that I won’t let myself believe it.

  I follow him down the steps leading down to the lounge floor. There’s a velvet rope across the bottom of the stairs with a huge, bald bouncer standing beside it. Burke waves the bouncer off, and we walk past. The couple sitting nearest the stairs stops talking and watches us go by.

  A rush of power sizzles in my veins. Burke owns this club, and the respect given to him by both his employees and customers is total. I’m not used to being anyone important, but when I walk through the club on Burke’s arm I feel like a goddess descended from Olympus. I must not get used to this feeling. I doubt I’ll ever get to experience it again after I wrap up my investigation and leave the club.

  And I will find Hope. Failure is not an option for me. I don’t care how cold Burke thinks the trail is. There’s got to be something he’s missing. Or hiding.

  He leads me to the elevator that will take us to his private apartment on the top floor. We get on, and he uses his key to access the elevator to take us up. Honestly, Second Circle has so many crazy security measures and secrecy involved it’s surprising it hasn’t had more conspiracies surrounding it before Hope disappeared. But Burke and Carter have been very careful to protect the image of the club.

  I let out a shaky breath when we reach Burke’s suite. I love this apartment. It has the same expensive feel as the rest of Second Circle, but it’s more modern and streamlined. I could never forget that I’m in Burke’s space, but I could definitely forget that anyone exists besides the two of us.

  Burke heads straight to the granite kitchen island where his laptop sits.

  I sink into the cushions of the soft gray sectional and wait for him. I hope what he shows me exonerates him. I rub my sweaty palms on my jeans.

  Burke carries the laptop over to me, his eyes weary. Is he still hiding something? Or is he afraid of me? The thought is a bit ludicrous. I’ve been in awe of him for so long that I can’t imagine him being afraid of me. Sure, I’ve managed to make lesser men quake in their shoes with my cool reporter stare, but never Burke. Not even once.

  Burke sets the laptop down in front of me with the file open. There’s a fancy header for the firm that he used, then a wall of text. I skim through it, pages and pages worth, and it says about what he told me. They looked and found nothing. They searched credit card trails and gas station security cameras, everything they could come up with, and it all came up empty. Hope may as well have stopped existing after she stepped out of Second Circle that night. How is that even possible?

  I click the laptop shut. Burke is studying my face intently. “Well? Am I a liar or an honest sinner?” he asks. A vein jumps in his jaw, betraying his tension. He wants to pretend he doesn’t care what I think, but he does.

  “You were right. They didn’t find anything. That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop looking.”

  Burke grits his teeth so hard I think his jaw might strain. “Why can’t you just let this go? Hope is long gone, and she was never your responsibility in the first place. You’re not a cop; you’re a journalist.”

  “I can’t let this go because what happened to her should matter to someone. I won’t let her be forgotten.” My voice cracks. I swallow back the tightness of threatening tears. “I’m not going to stop until I find the truth. If it makes you feel any better, I do believe you. This report looks legit. You really did look for her, and you don’t know anything. I just wish you’d told me sooner.”

  “Secrets are my business. I wasn’t about to share this one with just anyone who asked.” His thumbs traces a line across the hammering pulse in my wrist.

  “But I’m not just anyone.” I look up into his eyes. His gaze sears into my soul.

  “Lola.” His thumb brushes my lower lip. “Just leave this alone. Whatever happened to Hope is probably unsolved for a reason.”

  “No.”

  “I just want to keep you safe.” His hand cups the back of my head. He’s going to kiss me. He can get anything else he wants from me with a touch of his finger, but he can’t get me to give up Hope.

  “I have to find her.”

  “For the love of God, why?”

  “Because she has a mother, and a father, and a sister. She has people who need to know what happened to her.”

  “Hope was a loner. I doubt she’d contacted her family in years. What is this really about?”

  I run my teeth over my lower lip. He’s so close, I can smell the soap he uses. It’s a clean, sharp scent, probably called something innocuous like Summer Rain. It’s such a contrast to his aura of debauchery that it’s irresistible.

  “I lost someone.” The cold claws of memory wrap themselves around my heart. It hurts. It hurts too much to think of. But I need to tell him, to make him understand. “When I was sixteen, my best friend disappeared. She was an orphan, so no one really looked hard for her. She was the best friend I’d ever had, and I was so pissed that no one seemed to care. So I tried to find her, but every time I asked a question, I was told I was wasting my time. That it was hopeless. It was like beating my head against a wall. So finally, one day … I stopped asking questions. I never found out what happened to her. Everyone else might have forgotten about her, but I never did. Instead, I’ve lived with the guilt of knowing that I gave up.”

  I dig my fingers into the stiff fabric of his shirt. “They found her body a few years ago. She’d been kidnapped, forced to take drugs, abused. She survived for years and no one was looking for her. I wasn’t looking for her.” My hand shakes but I keep my eyes locked with his. I need him to understand so badly. How much it hurts me to know that my best friend was out there—needing me—and I didn’t do enough to find her. “No one deserves that. No one deserves to be forgotten. And now it’s like everyone has just forgotten about Hope, and I am not okay with that. I’m not going to stop. I am not going to let anyone tell me there’s nothing left to do because Hope deserves better than that.” I don’t even mention the layoffs looming over my head at the Austin Tribune, because there’s so much more at stake here than just a job. This is about human decency and compassion, and I need Burke to understand that, or he doesn’t understand me at all.

  Chapter Two

  Burke

  Lola’s eyes burn into mine with a fire I can’t begin to comprehend. I knew she was holding something back from me, but I never suspected she had this much pain contained inside her.

  I want to kiss her until I can drag the pain out like venom from a wound, but I know it won’t work. This is Lola’s pain, and all I can do is help make bearing it a little bit easier.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I get it. This is personal for you, even though you never knew Hope.” The words feel inadequate, but they’re all I have. I feel like a jackass for trying to get her to quit. I want to turn back time and throw every piece of information I have into her lap to make her search a little easier.

  She’s right. I did forget about Hope. After paying that PI an ungodly amount of money, I didn’t see anything else to be done so I shrugged it off and walked away, just like I did with every problem that gets too big for me to handle.

  “I won’t ask you to forget about her. You’re right—I owe Hope more than just hiring a PI and shoving the report in a drawer. I want you to be safe though. Can you at least promise me that you’ll be careful? I
don’t want to lose you too.” I touch her hair softly. I’m so afraid of how breakable she is. Her spirit is all fire, but her body is soft—vulnerable. I want to wrap her in my arms and keep her safe from the world, which is ironic because I’m the dangerous one lurking in the shadows. I huff out a breath. This woman has turned me upside down and inside out. Next I’m going to start acting like a teddy bear instead of a Dom. Fucking hell.

  Lola lays her hand alongside of my face and smiles. “I don’t want you to lose me either.” She leans forward and I meet her lips. Her mouth gives easily under mine. She offers up control to me, but for once I don’t take it. I slide my hands down her back and stroke her soft curves. Our lips dance together in an easy give and take. We are a tangle of limbs and hands on the couch. I lower her down until her back hits the cushion. Her brown hair fans out like silk across it. I pause a moment to admire the view, and she gives me an inviting smile.

  “I think—,” I start to say.

  “No,” she interrupts me. “Don’t talk.”

  She’s right. The feelings swelling in my chest bear no resemblance to anything I’ve ever felt before. I wouldn’t know how to explain them if I tried. They have hard edges and soft centers, and I’m worried if I press too hard against them I’ll slice through the hard exterior that’s kept me from forming an attachment to any woman.

  Lola wiggles her ass and swings her legs up to wrap them around my waist.

  We’re both still fully clothed. I have no idea how this is going to work, and I don’t care. I’m too caught up in the moment to plan ahead now. I trail kisses over her exposed collarbone, and she hums with pleasure. I never want her to stop making that sound. For me. Only me.

  I move lower until my lips hit the edge of her top. I catch my teeth on it and pull the fabric down over her nipples. Lola laughs and swats at me. “Don’t rip my shirt!”