Lyss’s eyes widened, and she looked around sharply before hissing, “Hush! Don’t say things like that here, Tatum. This isn’t Club S. I have to work with these people.”
“Seriously?” he said with a laugh. “We’re talking about…never mind. Sorry. Slip of the tongue. But, it’s still a valid question. Do you want to find someone just for Ryder, or are you hoping to find someone for yourself, too?”
Trust her cousin to take the bull by the horns. She squeezed her coffee cup, sloshing the cooling liquid around. After a pause, she admitted, “Both of us.”
Tatum nodded. “Thought so. And now I ask again, what brought this on?”
She dipped her fingertip in the coffee again and started tracing the rim of the tiny cup. “Oh, lots of things.” When Tatum just sat there, waiting, she sighed. “I miss it, okay? I didn’t think I would, but…”
“Wait. Miss what, exactly? Spell it out for me, ladybug. Spell it out for yourself, too.”
Lyss lifted one shoulder. “Before I met him…I was different.” She glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to their conversation, then leaned forward, lowering her voice. “I was a damn good Domme, Tatum. You said so yourself. Hell, Sidri said so herself, and that’s a damn big compliment coming from someone like her. Considering where I came from, the shit I went through before you helped me move to Houston, that’s saying a lot.”
“You still are,” Tatum said, eyes soft. “You always will be a good Domme. That won’t change just because you Switch for Ryder.”
“But that’s it, don’t you see?” she asked pleadingly. “Before I met him, I didn’t even know I had it in me to”—another glance around—“to submit like that. Didn’t know what it was like on the other end of a D/s relationship. He taught me how to kneel…and how to enjoy the experience. And I love him for it. Truly, I will never stop loving him for it. But…the feelings never went away like I thought they would. I mean, I thought once I chose to Switch for him, that’s all I’d ever be—his sub. But I’m still me, you know? And it’s been so long…” She trailed off with a wistful sigh.
Tatun regarded her with a thoughtful frown. “What does Ryder say about all this? I assume you’ve spoken to him about it.” His tone said she better have, or he was going to be very disappointed in her.
Lyss nodded, biting her lower lip. “We have. Talked about it, I mean. And he says he always knew I’d want a little piece of that back. We shared someone at the club a few weeks back. It was…intense. To say the least. But…it was just a Band-aid. The feelings are still there. Just like I know his feelings for men are still there, too. Which is why we started talking about finding a third. Like with you and Allen and Sidri.”
“Ah,” Tatum said, sitting back and folding his big hands on the tabletop. “I get it, now. Sharing someone made the craving worse instead of better, right? And now you’re wondering if Ryder is going through the same thing, only missing the chance to indulge his bi half.”
She nodded, reaching up to adjust the pins that kept her long, wavy brown hair pinned in a neat bun. Lord have mercy, she would be glad to get home and take the damn stabby needles out of her hair. Better to have it up when she was on shift—where distraught patients couldn’t get ahold of it—but it hurt like a son of a bitch by the end of the day. Her shift would end in another couple of hours, thank God.
Tatum let out a gusty sigh. “I wish I knew how to help you,” he said. “Lord knows, we had a hard enough time finding Allen. Wouldn’t it be great if there was a store, or something like that? ‘Thirds ‘R Us?”
She snickered. “Right next to ‘Doms ‘R Us’ and ‘Subs ‘R Us.’ Wouldn’t that be a trip?”
He flashed that winning smile of his, the one that made most women want to throw their panties at him. “Best trip in the world, as far as I’m concerned.” Then he sobered. “You guys are going to the auction, aren’t you? Maybe you’ll find someone there.”
Lyss made an “I don’t know” gesture with one hand. “We’ve talked about it. Far as I know, we’re going. We got that reservation certificate from ya’ll a while back, and I know Ryder already booked a room. But…”
“What?”
“Well, it’s like this. Every time we talk about finding a third, he’s all gung-ho. But whenever we talk about going to the club to meet people, he sort of, I don’t know, waffles on it. Doesn’t do that when we’re just talking. When it’s just us talking about it, he seems…interested.”
“I hear another ‘but’ in that statement.”
She gave him an ironic smile, nodding. “But, he also seems…reserved. Like he wants to find another man, too, but doesn’t want to…I don’t know…commit to anything. Almost like…like…” She heaved a frustrated sigh. “This is going to sound ridiculous.”
Tatum snorted again. “This whole conversation is ridiculous, at least from an outsider’s perspective. Fire away, ladybug. I’m sure I can handle it.”
She shot him an annoyed scowl before reluctantly admitting, “It’s almost as if Ryder already has a guy in mind. A guy he already wants. But if that’s true, why hasn’t Ryder brought this guy home, huh? I’ve told him I want it as much as he does. If he has a candidate already, why isn’t he here?”
Tatum’s eyes went distant. “Huh. Now that you say that…”
“What?” she demanded.
He met her gaze. “Has he ever told you about A.J.? His college roommate?”
If Tatum expected to shock her, he had another think coming. “Of course. He told me about that when he told me he was bi. But what’s A.J. got to do with anything?”
“If he’s told you about A.J., then you know they parted without having any closure.”
“Oh, I know,” she said, scowling. “And I’ve told him what a dumb-fuck move that was. He never should have let that man go if he cared so much. At least not without saying good-bye.” She paused, cocking her head. “Wait, are you saying A.J. is the reason Ryder is waffling on us finding a third? That A.J. is the guy he already has in mind?”
Tatum nodded slowly. “It could be. You should talk to him. Because if that is the reason…”
Damn the man and his bated pauses. “What, for crying out loud?”
But he only smirked. “Just talk to Ryder. See what he has to say about A.J. If that is the reason he’s holding out, then one or both of you need to call me.”
“You know something,” she accused hotly, glaring now. “Out with it!”
Tatum shook his head, still smirking, and stood. He leaned over the table, kissed the top of her head, and said, “Talk first. Then we’ll see what else needs to be done.”
And the bastard walked away.
Seething, grinding her teeth hard enough to make the muscles in her jaw jump, Lyss stayed at the table for a long time after Tatum left. Rat bastard. He knew something about A.J. Something important. But now that he’d gotten her to spill her secrets, he’d shut his mouth like a Venus fly trap trying to catch a fly before the frog could get to it. The guy was family, for crying out loud. He was supposed to try to help her, not send her into a tailspin of rabid curiosity.
The prick.
Composing herself, Lyss downed the last swallow of her cold coffee and started making the long trek back to the ER. At least she and Ryder would both be home tonight, so they could talk this out right away. With her working crazy doubles and his long hours since he made Detective, they hardly ever got to see each other anymore. Thank God she had a few days off coming up, and he’d requested light duty—not on call—to catch up on paperwork. Hopefully, they’d have a few days to catch up with each other.
Maybe do more than just “catch up,” too.
Smiling, she wended her way back to her station, alternately fantasizing about what Ryder would do to her when they got a little alone time together—and what she’d do to Tatum’s secretive mouth next time he got in range of her fist.
* * * *
A.J. sat on the steps that lead up to his apartment, staring at
the phone number that had been hastily scrawled on a scrap of notebook paper, thinking, Someone somewhere is laughing his ass off at me right now.
The meeting with Street Smartz had gone extremely well. Fantastically well. Better than he ever could have hoped. And, up until he got that phone number, he’d been certain this day couldn’t get any better.
Now, though…
When he got to his meeting, Amber Henley-Jones had met him at the door of the converted townhome that was used as the main office for Street Smartz. She was a tiny little thing with big blue eyes and long blonde hair, and she had squealed with delight when A.J. introduced himself. She’d ushered him inside with a bright smile and launched into an explanation of what the charity needed without A.J. having to say a word. By the end of their conversation, he’d been certain he could help them work out the kinks in their security system, help streamline their back-end workflow with an integrated server, and come up with a dozen ways for them to operate more efficiently.
“This is marvelous!” Amber had said happily, practically vibrating with delight. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell the guys. We’ve been trying to figure this out for months. I’m so glad Austin recommended you.”
“Glad to help,” A.J. said, his smile genuine. “The equipment we need to pick up isn’t that cheap, but…”
She waved that away airily. “Oh, we’ll figure out a way. We’ve got a charity event coming up. If that doesn’t cover the expense, we’ll ask our contributors for a boost. They all know we need this, sooner rather than later. With the system you’re designing, we’ll be able to keep more of our kids safe.” Her eyes suddenly darkened with sadness, her voice falling into a pained whisper. “If we can save just one more kid…”
The door downstairs suddenly banged open, saving him from having to find an awkward platitude. A.J. shot to his feet and placed himself between Amber and the door, facing the hallway and the stairs beyond. He started to take a step forward when Amber lightly gripped his arm.
She looked up at him with a bemused smile. “It’s okay, I promise.” Then she shot him a wink and called out, “Is that you, Ryder?”
Wait…Ryder?
“The hell is the door doing unlocked?” yelled a deep, masculine voice. A.J. breathed a silent sigh of relief, relaxing because the voice didn’t sound threatening—or familiar. It wasn’t his Ryder. Couldn’t be his Ryder. Unless his voice had dropped a couple of octaves in the last few years, there was no way it could be the same man.
Amber patted A.J.’s arm and called out, “Sorry, Maddox! I forgot to lock it. The nice gentleman from IT Matters is here. I can’t wait until you see what he’s come up with for our systems.”
“Just a sec,” the voice said, followed by a bunch of bumping and thumping that sounded like a dozen bowling balls banging against the walls. “I stopped for groceries,” the voice called. By way of explanation, A.J. guessed. “Those kids cleaned us out last night.”
Amber gestured toward the office door. “Come downstairs and meet my husband. He works as a counselor for Street Smartz. We both do, actually, but I also run the admin.”
A.J. agreed, still trying to shake off the tingles that flitted over his skin when she’d said Ryder’s name. Stupid, really. Even if the guy had been named Ryder, there was no reason for A.J. to assume it was the same guy. He had no idea where Ryder had ended up after college. No reason to think the man might be in Houston, especially when A.J. himself hadn’t been here all that long. No reason to think that his old flame would show up out of the blue like that, just because A.J. had been thinking about him today.
Get it together, Johannes.
Amber led them downstairs and into the spacious kitchen. There she threw herself into the arms of a dark-haired, painfully handsome man who towered over her and probably outweighed her by a hundred pounds. But, he treated that tiny woman like she was the perfect size, squeezing her ass while he hugged her as if it didn’t matter that they had an audience. Grateful his dark skin hid his blush, A.J. waited until the hug ended before clearing his throat.
“A.J. Johannes. Nice to meet you,” he said, holding out a hand. “I’m looking forward to working with your wife. Street Smartz sounds like an amazing charity.”
Maddox gave A.J. an obvious once-over. There was reservation in those eyes. Distrust? Did he think A.J. had designs on his woman? Shit, that would not be good for business. But Maddox’s voice stayed friendly. “Oh, it is. And difficult, annoying, exasperating…”
Amber giggled, squeezing Maddox’s arm while giving A.J. a sunny smile. “It is all that, and more. But don’t let his grumbling fool you. We all love working with the kids. At the end of the day, they’re the ones who matter most.”
Maddox nodded solemnly, then looked down at Amber. “Why did you think I was Ryder?” he asked.
Holy shit, there really was a guy named Ryder here? What the fuck?
Amber frowned. “Because he was supposed to be here. To meet with us. He’s our HPD liaison. He has to approve any security measures we put in place. You know that, Maddox. He was supposed to be here at four.”
“I know he was,” Maddox said, a slight frown creasing his brow. “Didn’t he call you?” When Amber shook her head, Maddox sighed. He looked over at A.J. before speaking. “Sorry, man. Ryder was supposed to come by, but he got hung up. His captain called him in for a meeting, so he had to reschedule. Actually, he said I could just give you his number, if you wanted to talk to him directly.”
“Sure,” A.J. said, wondering why his own voice sounded so high and faint. “I don’t mind. You have a liaison with the Houston Police?”
Maddox nodded, tearing a sheet of paper off a notepad attached to the fridge and searching for a pen in a drawer while he spoke. “Yeah. Long story. Short version is Ryder was once part of a security detail associated with this property.” Why did Amber gasp and blush furiously when Maddox said that? “And he’s been involved with Street Smartz from the beginning. He knows what security measures we need better than Amber or I do. Riley, too, for that matter, although the big ox won’t admit it.”
“Who is Riley?” A.J. asked, watching as Maddox started scribbling.
“Our husband,” Amber answered for Maddox, beaming when A.J. looked at her sharply. She giggled again. “Unconventional, I know. And not legal, sadly. But the three of us got married a couple of months ago. I even changed my name to include both of theirs—Henley and Jones. I belong to them and they belong to me, end of story.” She paused, giving him an odd look. “That’s not going to bother you, is it? Us being in a ménage relationship?”
Bother him? Holy hell, it sounded fucking perfect. A.J. cleared his throat. “No. No, it won’t bother me.”
Maddox finished writing, stood, and held out the piece of paper. “Good,” he said with a little wink, as if that settled the matter for him. “Now, that’s Ryder’s cell number. He said you could call him this evening if you want. His full name is Ryder St. Claire. Spelled the old-fashioned way, but pronounced like ‘Sinclair.’ He’s a really good guy. I think you’ll like him a lot.”
And that was when A.J.’s brain shut off.
He didn’t remember driving home. Didn’t remember walking halfway up the stairs before sinking down to sit and stare like a spaced-out idiot. Didn’t remember taking out his phone so he could stare at it and the number, side-by-side.
What the hell was he supposed to do? What were the odds that this was his Ryder St. Claire? Then again, what were the odds that there were two of them? How the hell was it even possible? This whole move to Houston was supposed to be a chance for him to make a new future for himself, not bring up painful shadows from his past. How the hell was he supposed to move on when shit like this happened? How the hell was he supposed to deal with seeing Ryder again?
How could he not see Ryder again? Maybe this was a sign. A chance for him to finally make things right. If he could talk things out with Ryder, maybe explain why he left all those years ago, they could…what? Get back toge
ther? Probably not, but maybe A.J. could at least have that last bit of closure to finally get himself past those memories and move on to something greater. That’s what this move had been about, right? New job, new home, new life.
And, if he could make himself dial the phone number in his hand, perhaps something else.
Eight years ago, A.J. had made the worst mistake of his life—running from the man he loved simply because he was a man. That grievous error had led to every other disaster in his personal life. Every emotional heartache he’d suffered had happened because of that one mistake.
But now he had the chance to start over. Not just with his professional life. With his personal life.
If he could bring himself to call that number.
A.J. stared at his phone. Stared at the number. Then, with shaking fingers, he dialed and put the phone to his ear.
Ryder answered on the second ring. “Detective St. Claire.”
A.J. froze as little shivers set the hairs on the back of his neck standing straight up. God, he remembered that honeyed Texas accent. That voice, so deep and so masculine, haunted his dreams as much as the memories of Ryder’s body.
“Hello?”
Impatience made that deep rumble sound harsher, but A.J. knew what it sounded like when Ryder was aroused…and in control. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t speak past the lust that closed his throat. God, I haven’t spoken to him in eight years. Haven’t seen him in eight years. I left without saying good-bye. What the fuck am I supposed to say to him?
“Whoever you are, speak, or I’m hanging up in three…two…”
“No!” A.J. squeaked, mortified that his voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “No, please, don’t hang up.”
“Who is this?” Ryder barked. “I don’t have time for games.”
A.J. winced, glad the other man couldn’t see his furious blush. He strapped some steel to his spine and took a deep breath. “I don’t…I don’t know if you’ll remember me,” he said quietly. “We went to college together. My name is Andre. Andre Johannes?”
Saints United [For Love of Authority 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 6
