The Greatest Risk

by Kristen Ashley

  Stellan, not entirely relaxed, felt his body string taut.

  “You two tight?” Dillinger queried quietly.

  “Unbreakable,” Stellan said with firm determination.

  “Okay then, not my business, but you shutting down those activities, with what they were and her rep out there, that says to me she doesn’t know you made that play. Who she is, if she wanted to end that, she’d not get her boyfriend to do it for her.”

  Stellan didn’t reply.

  Dillinger didn’t need one.

  “I get why you made that play. The company she keeps isn’t good, and she’s got a sweet gig with that law firm. They get wind of that shit, could fuck that up for her. She gets a job that goes bad, other worse shit can get fucked up.”

  “These are all things I know,” Stellan said low.

  “She know you went that way?”

  Stellan remained silent, though that was an answer, and Dillinger read it correctly.

  “None of my business, but man to man, when she finds out, that might not go good for you.”

  Stellan again didn’t reply.

  But this, he feared, was the other shoe that was going to drop.

  He needed to talk to her about it. He needed to get them through that important part of how her life needed to change.

  He hadn’t because he was concerned she was too fragile after all she’d given him on Sunday. He wanted her to feel safe. To have time to enjoy the calm that had settled in after that storm.

  But perhaps he should reconsider waiting.

  Dillinger nodded brusquely. “Right, what you don’t know is that she just took a job lookin’ into something going down at the Bolt. She spent yesterday recruiting informants to keep an eye on the activities of one of the three partners. Word travels, this word is so far relatively tight, but it still traveled to me.”

  Stellan drew in breath, turned his head, and looked out his wall of windows.

  “I don’t know what’s happening,” Dillinger continued. “I don’t have a lot of time on my hands to poke around either. Which sucks since one of the other three partners is a buddy of mine. And if I had to make a blind take on what’s happening, I know which of the other two partners is doing fucked-up shit. I know with the kind of guy he is that it’s probably seriously fucked up. And I know he’s not gonna take kindly to someone, especially, Lange, it’s important to say, some woman sticking her nose in.”

  I’ve got a job on tonight, but since Ami and Naya aren’t set to start until ten thirty, I think I’ll be good. I might have to meet you at the Honey though.

  He did not tell her about all of his business.

  They had, of course, only been together for three and a half weeks, very together for only two and a half of those, but all of those weeks had been enlightening and eventful.

  That said, she had not shared the job she had on was extracurricular to her paid employment.

  It could be read she was keeping that from him.

  He’d give her the benefit of the doubt that they simply had just not yet gone there as they were learning about each other and there were other, far more important issues to tackle that took precedence.

  However, it was disappointing. He wished they had more time to settle in. But it seemed his earlier thoughts were correct.

  It was time to go there.

  “I didn’t think this was something I should get into on the phone,” Dillinger carried on, and Stellan looked back at him. “And it’s uncool I blindsided you with it. But I only found out an hour ago, and after talking with Angie, we both thought I shouldn’t sit on it and should tell you straight away.”

  “It’s appreciated,” Stellan replied. “And speaking of Leenie, does she know to keep this quiet?”

  Dillinger nodded. “Yeah. Though I really can’t keep shit that might or might not be goin’ down in Barclay’s club from him, Lange. He’s my next visit. And I’ve already started wheels in motion to find out what’s happening, and if it turns out to be a situation, sort it.”

  With this information, Stellan made a decision.

  “That’s understandable and commendable,” Stellan told him. “If it was my business and a friend knew something, I’d be angry he didn’t let me know. However, I’d ask that neither you, nor your friend, intervene with Sixx. I need to handle this with her.”

  Dillinger nodded again, muttering, “I get that too. Not my place, but gotta say, careful with how you handle that.”

  He wasn’t sure that “careful” was the right play.

  He didn’t share that with Dillinger.

  He said, “Again, I very much appreciate you sharing this.”

  “Not a problem,” Dillinger replied and again looked right in Stellan’s eyes before he said in a cautious tone, “It’s tough to break the habit. It starts as a job. Earning a buck. For some people, it can become a high. That work for the firm, it might not do it for her, brother. It’s vanilla when it’s clear your woman in a lot of ways needs the spice. I’d say, because it’s true, we need someone skilled at the Honey, so we could throw her more work on background checks I deem need to go deeper. But my guess would be that wouldn’t be much better. Bottom line, she’s gotta break the habit, Lange. And she’ll never be able to lose that rush. She’s gotta keep it. It’s just gotta come from somewhere else.”

  “Is this spoken from experience?” he asked.

  Dillinger didn’t lose hold on Stellan’s eyes, and he delivered another shock by sharing openly, “It doesn’t suck, washing off the filth, finding your way to clean, or as clean as you can get since that shit seeps in down to the soul, and that’s something that you can never get out. But if that’s the only thing you had to make you feel alive, something has to replace it, and that something has to be real, Lange. Tangible. And solid. Or it’s never gonna take hold.”

  Stellan was now seeing why Dillinger gave nothing (until recently, and very recently for Stellan) to anyone … but Evangeline.

  “Then no worries, Branch. I have that part covered.”

  Dillinger jerked up his chin. “If you need backup with this, or she does, however you’re gonna play that, I’m in town for a while and will do my best to carve out time to give it to you two. If you need anything else that might have to do with code, chords or surveillance, got a bud who’s moved to town with a variety of skills and an attention deficit disorder. He works better when he has fifty things on the go. And whatever that asshole partner of Barclay’s has got goin’, my man will have no problem helping fuck it up. In fact, he’s the wheels I right now have in motion.”

  “So you’ll be offering these services to Barclay?” Stellan asked.

  “Absolutely,” Dillinger answered.

  “Can you ask Barclay to give Sixx a wide berth while I handle her?” Stellan went on.

  “Absolutely,” Dillinger repeated.

  “Again, appreciated.”

  They shook hands again, and Stellan walked him to the door.

  Dillinger stopped at it in a way that Stellan didn’t open it.

  “By the way,” he began, “Angie wants you guys over for dinner. She’s offered up my chicken enchiladas. I’ll try to talk her into making her spaghetti. That shit is fucking amazing. Either way, she’ll have my ass if I don’t leave here with your promise we’ll be setting something up.”

  Stellan’s lips quirked at his wording.

  Dillinger shook his head and shocked Stellan yet again when his cold eyes lit with humor and more openness came out of his mouth

  “Brother, you were the talk of the control room last night, coming all over the floor for Sixx. Don’t think you can hand me shit for having a Mistress who owns my ass.”

  Stellan lifted his brows. “Did I hand you shit?”

  Another something moved through Dillinger’s eyes that was not chilly in the slightest.

  Solidarity.

  “Told you you’d enjoy the dark side,” he said low.

  Stellan did not get into the differences of what they h
ad and who they were in the scene.

  He didn’t because he was not the kind of man who didn’t take advantage of every opportunity, especially the important ones.

  Having a friend in Branch Dillinger was such a thing. Not only because of what Stellan sensed he was, and the skills that came with that, but because he was Evangeline’s, and Stellan cared a great deal for Dillinger’s woman.

  And also because Stellan had learned in his life you could trust few, but those few you could trust were worth anything.

  And last, because Stellan had sensed from the first time he met him, under all that cold, whatever his reasons, he hid the fact he was a good man.

  So if Dillinger was moved to give his trust, Stellan knew he could return that unreservedly.

  “Is Leenie partial to restraint?” Stellan asked.

  “She seriously rocks that shit.”

  Stellan smiled.

  “I’ve seen your woman work,” Dillinger shared. “Hand her the ropes, brother, but after you hand her a whip. You’ll visit another world and won’t wanna leave.”

  “We’ll see,” Stellan murmured amusedly.

  “I bet,” Dillinger murmured back and then stunned Stellan again by lifting a hand and clapping him on the shoulder. “Later, brother.”

  “Goodbye, Branch, and thank you again.”

  Dillinger opened the door and Stellan followed him through, but he stopped two steps out and watched as Dillinger dipped his chin to Susan before he sauntered through the outer door.

  When he turned his attention to his assistant, she was staring at that door.

  She must have felt Stellan’s regard because she turned to him and declared, “If you tell Harry I drooled, you’ll lose your ability to make children.”

  Stellan shook his head at her, went into his office, closed himself in, walked to his desk, sat down, and picked up his phone.

  He scrolled to a number he used frequently, deciding not to go with Sylvie or Tucker Creed as both were friends and would sometimes partner with Simone.

  He hit the green button and put the phone to his ear.

  “Mr. Lange?” the man answered.

  “I want everything you can get on the owners of the Bolt,” he ordered. “And I want it fast.”

  “On it.”

  Stellan disconnected, gazed out his windows for long moments.

  Then he went back to work.

  twenty-two

  Pixies and Warlords

  SIXX

  At nine o’clock that night, Sixx, definitely kitted out as Mistress Sixx, sat at a small, round table on the elevated platform that spanned a set of high, stool-less tables that disappeared where they led to a dancefloor that was flanked in the back corners with two large bars.

  The Bolt.

  The music was loud and thumping. The lights were flashing. The bodies were heaving. There was a smell of booze, sweat and sex in the air.

  And Sixx was taking it in wearing skintight, zip-at-the-back, low-riding, black leather pants and a close-fitting, low cut, cropped leather vest, which meant she showed some skin at her tits, hips, back and belly. On her feet were platform black pumps with a scary-high, pencil heel. From her ears dangled long, black tassel earrings.

  And around her neck was her rose gold choker.

  She was out of sorts.

  She should feel in her element. Seemingly on the prowl at a sex club. Something she’d done innumerable times before.

  It should have felt natural.

  It didn’t.

  It felt like something was missing.

  Not the Sixx part of Simone “Sixx” Marchesa being fully out, taking over, her other half protected, but that not being the case anymore. The child in her had now grown up, and because of Stellan was safe anywhere.

  Even there.

  Because that world was a part of her, just like it was for Sixx.

  It was that she wasn’t there with her Master, and it felt wrong.

  “You’re not here to play,” she muttered to herself. “It’s just a fucking job.”

  And it was a good one. Not doing something for the likes of Fred Carvelo, who she was going to need to scrape off.

  That kind of thing didn’t enter the life she had with Stellan.

  But still.

  That something was missing.

  And it was important.

  She’d stationed herself at a table at the front of the club, dead center, with a view to the entire area.

  The position was out there, visible, but also secluded. The tables were not the scene.

  The dancefloor was the scene.

  And the rooms beyond the heavy curtains over the two doors wedged between dancefloor and bar on either side at the back of the club were the scene.

  But Sixx wasn’t there for the scene.

  She turned her attention to the length of elevated platform to her left, all the way down at the far end.

  It was in shadows, as she was, but frequently lit with the flashing club lights that strobed the floor.

  Pete Beardsley sat there, lounged back like he was the king of all he surveyed, a sub on her knees between his feet, her body twisted and her head not visible in a way that Sixx had a good idea how her mouth was engaged.

  But his relatively decent-looking face did not register ecstasy or even pleasure, and this both enraged and sickened Sixx.

  His sub was holding his balls, or his cock, in her mouth. If the latter, probably instructed to keep it hard, nothing else.

  That was something Stellan would require of her.

  And this was what enraged Sixx.

  Because the woman at his feet was more than likely not there because she trusted her Dom with her heart or simply her kink.

  But because her Dom had her fix, and it wasn’t a sexual one, and she needed it.

  That was not the life.

  Submissiveness was not subjugation.

  And that perversion of Sixx’s way of life right there on display instead of being spoken of as a possibility made it hard for Sixx to keep her seat rather than make her way on her heels across the platform and show that asshole how it felt to be sexually coerced in a way you very much did not like.

  On this thought, a trio of bodies strolled across the front of Sixx’s table.

  Two hulking warlords trailed by a pretty pixie wearing a short skirt, a laced, lime-green corset and matching gossamer wings.

  Sixx caught the movement of the pixie’s hand.

  Even if she hadn’t, the woman was one of Sixx’s recruits. Her name was Molly, and those two warlords were her Doms. They all lived together and apparently learned very well how to share seeing as they did it in the scene and in life.

  As Sixx watched them go, she made a mental note to discuss scholarships to the gladiator pit with Stellan.

  Because both those dudes would rock it, and Sixx didn’t know the cost of the buy-in, but if it was hefty, she could tell by the decent but not luxury car Molly had, not to mention the streetwear, shoes and handbag she’d sported when Sixx had met with her about the Bolt job, that they probably were not rolling in it.

  She also made a mental note to request Stellan do a night of slumming when she knew Molly and her warlords were at each other. Stellan was absolutely not into roleplay or costumes, and neither was Sixx, but she had a feeling he’d find that trio at the very least interesting, and she herself wanted to see how that all worked out in play.

  She looked down at the table to see a square of white against the black tabletop.

  A note.

  She picked it up, opened it, and read the words, Station 7—back left—paid play—wait for an escort.

  She folded it, tucked it in her cleavage, and studied the dancefloor, ignoring a preening male sub who was shaking his ass her way.

  Seriously, she had to bring Stellan here and give these folks the news that Mistress Sixx was out of commission.

  Another time.

  She turned her head and saw pixie and her warlords were cozied up at a
table three tables down, both men with backs to the wall, Molly with her ass in one of their laps, his arm around her, her forehead tucked into the side of his neck, her legs thrown over the lap of her other guy, but akimbo.

  Those wings were going to get crushed.

  The other guy had his hands full. One up his pixie’s short, lime-green skirt, the other she couldn’t see, but she could tell by its movements he was fisting his boy’s cock.

  But his gaze was aimed her way.

  When Sixx had recruited her, Molly had shared her men were not fans of what was going on, and they’d offered to take her back when she was in the club.

  She didn’t need it, but from the note, the look and head motions this guy was giving her, he wanted her to chill while he took care of his pussy and his meat before she went in.

  Nice, but unnecessary.

  Unfortunately, since she had to leave in an hour, that night was only reconnaissance. She wasn’t going to make any moves.

  Further, that wasn’t the job she’d been hired to do.

  Get the evidence, give it to Josh, he’d take it to Barclay Richardson, and they’d do whatever it was they were going to do.

  Still, she might slip up and have to hand someone his ass.

  She was unpredictable that way.

  In a case like that, it was always good to have backup.

  Just, you know, should anyone try to intervene.

  Not to mention, anything could happen, and if backup was on offer …

  Especially from a tall, seriously built warlord.

  Therefore, she found herself dipping her chin to the warlord and turning away, wondering what would happen if she told Stellan about this job. He knew she took things on outside the firm. But this one, he’d have a particular response. She was in no doubt he’d find it as offensive as she did, and he’d want something done about it.

  Though she might have learned the hard way he could take care of himself, he was still a businessman—not an investigator, not a fixer, not of this part of her life, this part of the world, and maybe that was also what she missed, since they shared everything else, but this was still the great divide.

  Sixx put these thoughts of out her mind and gave the dancefloor a good scan, trying to differentiate players, possibly identify the girls Beardsley was using, or, if luck turned her way, witness a solicitation.