Collaring Colleen [Tales from the Lyon's Den 2] (Siren Publishing Menage Everlasting)

by Cara Covington

  Daniel tilted his head. “There really isn’t. Except in one crucial area. The biggest difference is that submissives languish under the burden of making decisions and being in charge, of having to assume total control of their environments, both professionally and personally, whereas Dominants thrive on being in control, sometimes of every single aspect of their lives and the lives of their submissives.”

  It was all Colleen could do not to let her emotions show just then. Memories came, like photographs, freeze-frame images of that long-ago knock on the door, of the shock of the weight of the sudden responsibility for raising her sister, of having to hire help, and having to be the boss at home all the time. She could and did assume responsibility in the operating room, and in point of fact, that kind of responsibility suited her to a tee. She never wished that away and never, ever wavered. Not the way I sometimes wished all the rest of it away. It didn’t escape her understanding that the turmoil roiling inside her right that minute, mixed with the terror she felt for Mercy’s safety, seemed to have put her right back there again—emotionally. Colleen pushed aside thoughts of submissives and focused, instead, on the concept of the Dominant. She wasn’t certain why Daniel was talking about this, but she knew one thing without a doubt.

  “That would be you,” she said. “You’re a Dominant.” She met Daniel’s gaze head-on.

  He nodded, slowly. “Yes, I’m a Dominant. I’ve no desire to live the D/s dynamic twenty-four, seven. You need to know that right up front. What we call the high protocols are reserved for the bedroom—and the club.”

  “So…what would that dynamic, as you call it, mean for the submissive?” It occurred to her she should have specified “other than being a sexual slave” but decided any talk of sex should be censored. At least on her part.

  “It’s a power exchange,” he said. “The submissive surrenders control with regard to her personal life, not her professional life, never that. Remember, a submissive is not a doormat. And in return, the Dominant sees that the submissive has all she needs to function well in life, especially stress relief, and never having to be in a position to make those decisions that can weigh so heavily upon her.”

  “Colleen, don’t make the mistake of thinking a submissive is weak.” Rob sat forward and waited until she was focused on him before he continued. “Submissives are some of the strongest people I know, and in point of fact, the power in the D/s relationship resides in their hands.”

  “It doesn’t sound like it.”

  “It really does, as you’ll soon discover,” Daniel said. “The Dominant’s goal is to care for and take care of his submissive. But there are rules, and safeguards, that are sacred. Sometimes, contracts will be written between the parties, setting down in black and white what the parameters are of the arrangement between them—Doms and subs. In addition, nothing is done without consent, and that consent can be withdrawn by the submissive at any time with the use of a safe word. Remember, please, that I will never lie to you.”

  Colleen must have been more tired that she thought she was. She looked from Daniel to Rob. But it was Daniel whose presence seemed to draw her, and so it was Daniel she looked at. “What did you mean, ‘as I’ll soon discover’?”

  “The price for our taking the case and finding your sister is you giving yourself into our hands—letting go of all you’ve had to clutch tightly, and letting us be your Dominants as we also help you to uncover and then celebrate your not-very-inner submissive.”

  * * * *

  Rob had wondered, during that drive from the club to her house, exactly what Colleen’s reaction was going to be when Daniel presented her with their proposal. Would she become angry and deny she was a submissive? Would she threaten to call the cops, citing his unexpected offer as an unwanted personal advance, characterizing it as an attempted sexual assault?

  Of all the visions of what could possibly happen flitted through his mind, none of them came anywhere close to the reality of Colleen Duncan’s response.

  Colleen looked from Daniel to Rob with an expression on her face that made his gut clench. Dr. Collen Duncan looked like a woman who’d reached the end of her considerable rope. A lone tear trickled from her left eye and slowly slid down her face. She swallowed visibly, and when she spoke, her voice sounded…broken.

  “I can’t. I want to, but I can’t. I…I don’t…”

  “You can, sweetheart.” Daniel’s voice had taken on a timber Rob recognized. He’d heard it on more than one occasion. Daniel’s not-so-inner Dom had emerged. What would happen next was anyone’s guess.

  Then Daniel held out his hand to Colleen. She hesitated just a moment, and then she reached out and put her hand in his. Daniel used her concession to move her from the chair she’d been sitting in so tensely and bring her to his lap.

  He used one hand to press her head against his shoulder and the other to hold onto her securely. “All you have to do is let go. We’re here now, and we’re going to take care of what needs taking care of. We’re on duty. It’s time for you to rest, pet. Rob’s going to take your shoes off you and rub your feet. He’s going to make you feel so good. Just relax and let go. You need to sleep.”

  Rob moved his chair just a bit closer then slipped Colleen’s low-heeled pumps off her feet. She hadn’t bothered with stockings. As he took her right foot in his hands, Rob realized that even her feet were tense. He kept his touch firm but soothing as he began to massage the arch of her foot with his thumb while using his fingers to caress the top.

  “I don’t know how to let go. I…I’ve been the one doing it all for so long. Everything personal feels frozen inside me. I go to work, and the minute I step foot in the hospital, the surgeon is there, on point, alert, in charge. I’ve found myself operating on patients with very little chance of survival and I keep it together and do my job, and they survive more often than not. I’m a damn good surgeon.”

  “I’m sure you are. Can you think of it this way, Colleen? Each of us only has so much capacity for stress, for the hard choices in life. You use yours every day saving lives. That’s damned impressive, from where I’m sitting.”

  She lay against Daniel quietly. He stroked her arm, shoulder to wrist. As Rob continued to massage her right foot, he could see she was beginning to relax. He switched to her left foot, and as he continued to observe closely, Colleen nearly melted into Daniel’s embrace. He wondered if she would end up falling asleep and really hoped she did.

  Rob was in full agreement with his best friend. Sleep was what she needed right then more than anything.

  “How do you use yours?” Colleen’s question sounded slightly slurred, and her eyes had closed.

  “Beginning right now, by taking care of a reluctant submissive while I search for her missing sister. You’ve eaten some and drank some milk. Now it’s time for you to go to sleep. We’ll be here when you awaken. While you sleep, I’ll begin looking for Mercy. For now, I have you, and you’re safe. Go to sleep, Colleen.”

  “All right.”

  Rob didn’t think for one moment that the argument to convince Colleen to submit to them was won. It hadn’t even started yet. But in the meantime, they were here, in her house with her, and that really was a huge part of the battle. She clearly trusted them enough to close her eyes and go to sleep.

  When Colleen dropped, she dropped. In barely two minutes she was solidly, deeply asleep.

  “Probably comes from being a doctor,” Daniel said quietly. “Do you recall that conversation we had with Robert Jessop not that long ago when he was talking about med school and his residency?”

  Rob did remember. “He said he learned to fall asleep instantly, even sitting up, and to sleep in five-minute increments.” Rob sat quietly for a moment, his focus on Colleen, on the steady rise and fall of her chest as she slept in the arms of his best friend. “Carter was going to email me the HPD’s file on Mercy’s disappearance. I’ll check to see if I have it as soon as we get her tucked in.” He looked up at Daniel. “I’ll also put
a call in to Porter West, to get him to loan us Damion. But first, I’ll go ask Ellie where Colleen’s bedroom is.”

  The sound of a soft step to his right alerted him bare seconds before the quiet words.

  “Hers is the bedroom at the end of the hall, upstairs. There’s a small light on that usually stays on all night.”

  Rob knew his face likely showed amazement as he turned to face the older woman.

  Ellie nodded toward Colleen. “She tried to protect me from knowing what sort of club it was Mercy had visited, but I do my own research. I’ve also got a few years on her and I lived my own life before I came here.” She met first Rob’s gaze and then Daniel’s. “For a long time, I’ve prayed for her to find someone who can take the reins and give her a break, and I’m not the least surprised that her someone is actually two someones. She’s a complex woman and does, in my opinion, need more than one man to meet her needs. My bedroom is the one at the end of the downstairs hall, past the kitchen.” She turned to leave and then stopped and faced them once more. “I’m proficient with a handgun, gentlemen. Please don’t damage her heart.”

  “Our goal is to help her, not hurt her.” Daniel’s words came softly. Rob wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d bitten them out, but he seemed to accept Ellie’s challenge without a qualm.

  “Of course, it is.” Ellie left them alone with her sleeping employer. He looked back at Daniel and saw an expression on his face that made him want to cheer. Then it was gone, and Rob hid the hope he knew was showing on his face. It would seem that Ellie wasn’t the only one who was going to get what she wanted.

  Rob had the feeling that Colleen Duncan held the key that would finally unlock his best friend’s frozen heart. He would do everything he could to see that happened—for all of them.

  Chapter Four

  “Well?” Fitz Symington stopped his pacing. He didn’t care if his temper was showing. His entire life could go for a massive shit if his so-called silent partner, Jack Malone, didn’t get a handle on this situation, and fast.

  “My people are on it. In this day and age, with all our technology? No one can disappear as completely as they think they can, especially a twenty-something reporter. She’s lived her entire life in the Houston area. We have our feelers out, and we have electronic measures in place. We’re monitoring her apartment, her cell phone line, her credit cards, her bank…you name it, we have it covered. Sooner or later, Mercy Duncan is going to make a mistake, and when she does, we’ll have her.”

  “Sooner or later? Are you serious? Now I know my instincts were spot-on. She obviously has something on us—something solid. It’s only a matter of time before this entire operation blows up in our faces. Maybe the police already have her in protective custody!”

  Malone shook his head. “None of the cops—not local, state or federal—are as ‘on the ball’ as you might think they are. I have…friends everywhere. Mercy’s name only shows up in one place—and that’s at the HPD. Her sister reported her as missing four days ago.” Malone smiled. “So far, the cops are just telling her the kid’s likely on a bender and will show up eventually.” His smile disappeared, and he met Fitz’s gaze. “I’m not convinced she has anything on you at all because there’s nothing to find. Not anymore. I think you’re jumping at shadows.” He walked over to the corner bar in his living room. He held up a bottle of bourbon. Fitz nodded then returned to his pacing.

  He stopped when Malone stepped into his path, a glass half full of amber liquid extended toward him.

  “We knew this scam wasn’t going to last forever, Fitz. It’s been a good run, and we raked in a hell of a lot of dollars. Over the last two years, you’ve built yourself a fine nest egg. We both have. Hell, Fitz, you’re damn near a billionaire, and so am I. Perhaps it’s time to end this farce and disappear ourselves. Reap the rewards of our labor, as it were.”

  “I never agreed we couldn’t go on indefinitely.” For Malone, it was all about the money. Fitz, however, had a higher purpose. As a research doctor, there were other causes he wanted to take on. He’d already appeared in several national newspapers. He was considered a savior by those who’d taken his medication. No, he didn’t care so much about the money—though it was nice—as he did finally being a man, a doctor, of great achievement. “I’ve been damn careful with every step taken. I’ve changed all the test results and erased any suspicions about possible cardiac side effects. You arranged for that car accident for the FDA tech who helped us. As far as the world will ever know, methodipirate has no cardiac implications whatsoever. It’s truly just what it’s marketed as, a miracle drug for the treatment of migraine headaches.” Fitz held Malone’s gaze until the man nodded in response. Then he took a long drink from his glass. The liquor burned a fine path down to his stomach, warming every inch of him along the way.

  Jack had been his only friend in high school. They’d been called the Nerd and the Thug. That hadn’t bothered him at all. While Fitz had gone on to college on a full academic scholarship, Jack had gone straight to work. It wasn’t until several years later Fitz realized his old friend’s idea of work was everything from petty larceny all the way up to major crimes.

  Jack had built himself a solid organization, one that brought in more money than most hard-working people would see in ten lifetimes. When Fitz had needed a partner, someone to invest a few hundred thousand and to help him take care of the unexpected problems with his wonder drug, he’d naturally turned to Jack, who had immediately jumped at the chance to “invest” in Fitz’s discovery.

  Jack Malone was good at what he did, but Fitz was a hundred times smarter.

  Jack would eventually end up in prison. It was only a matter of time. In fact, Fitz had planned to see that he did exactly that, that he would be charged with the murder of Mercy Duncan.

  But first they had to find the fucking bitch. He let that last thought be heard, and he didn’t care about the edge Jack could hear in his voice.

  “We’ll find her. You need to chill out. If you give in to this rage, if you let it show, you won’t have to worry about Mercy Duncan sinking your precious image. You’ll do that all by yourself.”

  Fitz turned away from Jack, from that shit-eating grin of his, and struggled to get control of his emotions, to put his anger back into the box he usually kept it in. Not because Jack had suggested it but because he needed to get himself under control.

  He also needed to sit down and plan how the rest of this situation was going to play out. He, too, had friends everywhere—everywhere in his own world. And he knew what he would do to protect himself, his image, and his freedom. He’d do anything and everything, no exceptions.

  He just needed a little time to put everything in place. He’d get his assistant, Jefferies, to help him.

  “Find her, Jack.”

  “I’ll find her, Fitz. Don’t worry.”

  “Good. Because our futures depend on you doing just that.” More than you could possibly know. Once Jack found that damned reporter, and killed her, Fitz would rid himself of the only loose thread that could hang him out to dry—his old friend, Jack Malone.

  * * * *

  Colleen came awake instantly, as she usually did, fully cognizant of where she was and what had happened just before she’d fallen asleep. Yes, she was in her own bed, yet this was different than any other awakening. Two separate realities gobsmacked her at the same time.

  The first was that she’d fallen asleep on the lap and in the arms of Daniel Welsh. The second was that Daniel was, at this very moment, in bed with her, spooning her.

  “Shh, pet. I’m just holding you. Take a moment to get your bearings.”

  Colleen blinked. She didn’t understand how he’d realized she’d awakened because she hadn’t moved. What’s one more thing added to the list of things I don’t understand? Instead of reacting with a knee-jerk insult, or with anger, Colleen did as Daniel asked her to do. She got her bearings and realized that, while Daniel did indeed have an arm around her and was hold
ing her and was undeniably on the bed with her, he wasn’t in the bed.

  She was still wearing the briefs and sports bra she’d had on under her clothes the night before, and her comforter formed a solid, safe layer between their bodies.

  “I’m not used to any of this.”

  “Consider this to be a case of extreme circumstances, where none of the usual rules apply. How do you feel?”

  She didn’t have to think about her answer to that, but she certainly did edit it. She wasn’t going to tell Daniel Welsh she felt protected and cared for. No way, no how. However, “I feel rested. I must have been more exhausted than I thought because I don’t recall coming to bed.” She sensed him waiting and decided she could give him one more tidbit. “I’ve also got a slight headache. I’m not used to sleeping so long at one time.”

  “It’s very possible your headache is from caffeine deprivation. You need to consider cutting back on that stuff.”

  Colleen would have taken issue with his imperious-sounding decree except for one tiny fact. He was right. She’d been aware for some time that she needed to cut back on her coffee. If she could find a decaf she liked, she’d work on that little thing.

  Colleen sighed. “You’re right. I know you’re right.” She sensed Daniel waiting for her to say more and felt herself smile. She could get used to sparring with someone with more than half a brain, someone who treated her as if she was a thinking human being. I don’t know why every man I’ve dated until now thought I was some hapless bimbo, treating me as if I was a lesser being just because I didn’t have a dick. As that thought echoed in her mind, she slammed on the brakes, metaphorically speaking.

  She was not dating Daniel Welsh, and that was that. The last thing she needed was some damned Dom pushing her around and giving her orders. Hell, they weren’t even in a relationship and he’d already done that.

  Colleen frowned as her inner imp came awake. Just imagine the nerve of him telling you to take small bites of food to keep it down and to go to sleep and to give yourself a break! The very nerve of the man, taking care of you like that!