“Marcia? Are you questioning whether or not you’re a submissive, or are you questioning taking a chance on Ramón?”
“Both, I think.” She inhaled deeply. “No, that’s a partial lie, and I don’t want to lie to you. I’m pretty sure I am a submissive. Will you teach me about the lifestyle? I want to help him in his investigation, and I think the one way I can do that is to be his submissive. He told me that he only goes to the Lyons Den because it’s part of his cover.” He’d actually explained his attendance there in detail. He’d told her there were a few members who also went to other bars and open clubs, and that some of those places had connections to Sérgio Torres. If the man was having Ramón’s activities monitored, he’d view his membership at the Lyon’s Den as completely in character. “A Dom going to a club would be more believable if he had a sub, wouldn’t he?” She didn’t wait for Daisy to answer her. “Will you teach me how to act like a sub and teach me about the club’s protocols? That way, if he takes me there, I won’t embarrass him.”
Daisy smiled. “I can do that. I also have some books you can read and websites you can research. There are a lot of misconceptions out there these days about our lifestyle. A lot of assholes think if they say they’re Doms that it’s a license to beat on women.” Daisy shivered.
“I didn’t even go to see that movie,” Marcia said.
Daisy wrinkled her nose. “Me, neither.” Then she nodded her head, as if she’d come to a decision. “We’ll start with presentation. This is the way you greet your Master or your Sir—some Doms like one title and some the other. Some only ask that you use their names. You’ll have to ask Ramón what he prefers.” Daisy got up from the sofa and moved over to an open area of the carpet. She slipped to her knees then spread them open. Her back was straight, her head down, and her hands were open, the backs of them resting on her thighs.
“This is how my Master likes me to present myself, though naked, of course. It’s the same position that I’ve noticed most Doms want their subs to assume when they present themselves to them. If your Dom wants something different, he’ll tell you. Come on down here on the floor beside me, and I’ll help you get it right.”
Marcia felt a tiny bit of excitement course through her at the idea of greeting Ramón this way. Daisy’s posture didn’t look too difficult. Decision made, she moved from the sofa to the rug and slipped to her knees.
* * * *
Ramón stood off to the side, a drink in his hand, and let his gaze wander over the Tuesday night crowd at the Lyon’s Den. He was quite aware of the anti-social vibes he gave off. He really didn’t want to be disturbed at the moment. He needed to try and figure out what Marcia Crane was up to. What game is she playing?
After the meeting he’d attended with his team that morning, he’d taken his time returning to the Lyonses’ apartment, needing to delay that moment when he was alone with Marcia again. His team had suggested a plan of action—or he should say, Joseph Grant, SAC, had suggested a plan of action—and he was left with trying to figure out how the hell he was going to make what the man in charge wanted to happen, happen. Ramón knew he needed to speak to Christopher. He was the only one who could help him with this plan.
He’d been strung tight when he’d told Marcia that there probably was a way for her to help him, but he just had to figure it all out, first. She hadn’t reacted the way he’d anticipated.
Ramón thought she’d demand more of an answer to her plea than that. He’d thought she would press him into telling her what he was thinking about immediately so she could get started right away.
He hadn’t expected her almost docile acceptance and her promise to be patient while he got everything worked out.
The woman is going to drive me bat-shit crazy if I let her.
Ramón wasn’t used to thinking in terms of what a woman might be thinking or feeling or how that might impact him. That isn’t all that’s on your mind when it comes to Marcia Crane. No, it wasn’t. He was honest with himself. He wondered what her naked flesh would feel like underneath his hands and what sounds she would make when he thrust his cock into her hot, wet pussy.
You’re not being as honest with yourself as you like to think you are. There’s more you want to know about her than just that.
Ramón shut that voice down, just shut it down and focused on the crowd around him. He was in the main clubroom, the one that held the bar and where the music played and people danced.
He could ignore the nudity—a body was just a body. Well, except when it came to Marcia’s body. He’d seen her naked and defenseless, and he’d behaved like a gentleman. That didn’t mean he could get the sight of her, or the feel of her in his arms, out of his thoughts—thoughts that weren’t all gentlemanly.
Ramón clamped down harder and focused on the crowd, analyzing the scene before him. Some couples were bound by a collar on one, a wrist band on the other, and a leash or chain in between. Aside from the fact that most of the submissives here were showing a lot of skin, their demeanor set them apart from the Doms and Dommes. The submissives tended to be…almost docile.
Docile. Ramón straightened, his inner alarm bell going off. Could Marcia have already figured out one way she could help him? She’d spent several hours with Daisy Lyons, the most docile woman—and yet strangely, not—that he’d ever met.
“Fancy meeting you here, Estévez.”
Ramón recognized the voice, of course. He’d recently spent several days in the man’s company as they’d worked through the evidence in a kidnapping/double homicide that had exposed a prostitution ring being run out of a private women’s college just east of Waco.
Ramón turned to greet Clint Parrish, a sergeant with the Texas Department of Public Safety, and found he couldn’t say a word. No sign of the serious, by-the-book police officer could be seen. In his place stood a fit, blond-haired man wearing brown leather pants, an open leather vest, boots—and nothing more.
Before he could open his mouth to say anything, one of the waitresses approached, a single glass on her tray.
“Here’s your drink, Master Clint.”
Clint focused on the young woman. The attention made the woman—the sub, Ramón mentally corrected himself—blush. “Thank you, Vanessa.”
Ramón felt his right eyebrow arch. Clint took the drink, dismissing the young woman, and turned his attention back to Ramón.
“If you think for a moment that you’re going to find any vestiges of illegal activities here, Special Agent Estévez, you’re very much mistaken.”
Ramón doubted anyone else heard Parrish’s statement. He kept his voice just as quiet when he replied. “I had thought that might be a possibility in the beginning, when Christopher offered to ‘sponsor’ my membership to assist in my investigation. But the Lyon’s Den, its principals, and its membership have all been cleared by my team.”
Clint grinned. “And yet, you’re shocked to see me here.”
Ramón shrugged. “I really didn’t care so much who was on the membership list, just that they all passed a security clearance, which my team conducted.” Then he raised his glass to the other man. “I am shocked to see you, Master Clint. But I don’t think you were that surprised to see me. And that makes me curious.”
Clint shrugged. “Nothing curious about it. I knew you were a Dom. I just didn’t know if you knew that you were one.”
Ramón took a drink from his glass. Clint moved to stand beside him. It occurred to Ramón that anyone looking might realize they were both cops, simply because they stood with the wall at their backs and their gazes sharp on their surroundings.
Then again, there were a lot of men here who seemed to be doing that very same thing.
Clint’s matter-of-fact assessment had taken him by surprise. “What makes you think I’m a Dom?” He kept his gaze on the people in their immediate vicinity and not on the state cop. But his not looking didn’t mean he wasn’t aware. He could almost feel a hole being drilled where Parrish looked.
�
��Ah, you didn’t know. And you’re going to be difficult about the truth, aren’t you?”
Ramón shrugged. He really didn’t know what to say to that.
Clint Parrish took a sip from his own glass and sighed. “I suppose the easiest way for me to explain it is that, sometimes, it’s as simple a matter as like recognizing like.”
“The two of you look very serious. Am I interrupting?”
That was the second time tonight someone approached and caught him off guard. It’s a damn good thing I know I’m among friends here. Inattention like that could get him in serious trouble fast when he was on the job.
“Nah, we’re just having a minor difference of opinion, Master Christopher. One of us believes Ramón is a Dom, and one of us doesn’t, necessarily.”
Chris Lyons smirked. “You had to go there with him, didn’t you, Master Clint? I was waiting for just the right time, myself.”
Ramón met Christopher Lyons’s gaze. “I was actually hoping to talk to you about this subject—and something else, as well.” He made a point of looking around the clubroom.
“Why don’t we go upstairs, to the private lounge? Daisy and Rory are in the apartment right now, so we’ll have complete privacy. If that’s something you need? Well, beside Clint and myself, of course.”
Of course. Actually, it wouldn’t hurt to get Parrish’s opinion, too. “Yes, relative privacy would be appreciated.”
As soon as they were alone inside the upper room, Clint turned to Chris. “How’s Miss Crane doing?”
Ramón recalled then that the man had interviewed her at the Lyonses’ apartment two days after he’d brought her there. Clint had wanted to know about her scholarship arrangement, in the aftermath of Edith Claymore and Victor Swift shooting each other. Ramón recalled Clint had been not only gentle but respectful in his approach to Marcia. He’d also spent time with her—well, with both of them, really, at that engagement party in Lusty.
“Don’t ask me,” Christopher said. “Ask Ramón.”
Clint’s gaze snapped to him so fast Ramón wondered if the maneuver had hurt Clint’s neck. “Why should I ask you?”
“Because Miss Crane is currently staying at my apartment.”
Ramón caught a couple of surprising emotions cross Parrish’s gaze. Disappointment was the one he seized on.
“You’re interested in her?”
“It doesn’t matter now, I guess.”
“It damn well does. She had no place else to go. For some reason, she feels safe with me. I think she might feel something else, too. But nothing can ever come of that.”
Clint’s eyes went to slits, and Ramón had the sense that cop was trying to read him. Good luck, son. Many before you have tried—and failed.
“If you’re hoping for advice for the lovelorn from me, forget it.” Chris had walked over to his private bar. He looked over his shoulder and met Ramón’s gaze. “I’m not one of those Doms you might have read about who does that sort of thing.”
Ramón snorted. “No? Well, color me disappointed as shit. So, what kind of a Dom are you, then?”
“The kind who teaches other men how to be the Doms they already are. You interested in that particular service, amigo?”
The question seemed to reverberate in the room. Ramón took another sip from his drink. Then he exhaled heavily. “Yeah. Apparently, I am.”
Chapter 3
“Why?”
Clint wondered if he needed to explain his one-word question. His emotions were all over the map right then. He was so emotionally compromised at that moment that if he had a willing sub on her knees before him right now, he’d have to walk away.
Ramón Estévez met his gaze. “Marcia has begged to be allowed to help me put that bastard, Torres, away. I told her I’d discuss it with my team.” He shook his head, and Clint had a feeling he knew what the rest of the man’s confession was going to be.
“You thought they’d tell you it was out of the question, giving you an ironclad reason to turn the lady down—and they didn’t.”
“Worse. The special agent now in charge of my team suggested that Marcia could learn to be a sub to my Dom, cementing my cover.”
Clint felt everything inside him go on alert. “So, what? You’re going to play at being a Dom for that sweet little submissive and then walk away from her?”
“Clint.” Chris’s one-word warning didn’t stop him.
“Fuck that, Estévez. Hasn’t she been through enough already? If you’re going to do this, you need to fucking step up to the plate and be the Dom that Marcia Crane needs you to be.”
“I’m a shitty bet for the long haul, Parrish. She needs someone she can depend on to be there for her, and it’s only a matter of time before I fuck it up and leave her in the dust. I can’t be that man, no matter how much I might want to be. I don’t have the right to even try.”
Clint saw genuine regret in the other man’s eyes. He’d done his best to try and forget Marcia Crane, but the damn woman came to him under the cover of sleep, coloring his dreams with an emotion he’d just about given up on—hope.
“I have a question.”
Clint blinked. He’d almost forgotten Christopher was there. By the startled look in Estévez’s eyes, Clint knew the FBI agent had, as well.
Clint looked at Chris.
“What’s your question?” Estévez asked.
“It’s a question for both of you—and for each of you. What comes first, nailing Torres or taking care of Marcia?”
Clint knew the answer, at least for him. He was surprised for the second time that night when Estévez answered with him, “Marcia.”
Chris looked from him to Estévez and then back. Their host’s smile was slow and, Clint thought, just a little bit sneaky.
“Excellent answer, gentlemen. I have a follow-up question. Did you consider that, perhaps together, you both could be the Dom that Marcia needs?”
“You really believe she’s a submissive?” Estévez asked.
“Hell, yes, she’s a submissive. And you, my friend, are a Dom down to your bones.” Chris nodded. “I’m going to go upstairs for a moment. I’ll give you a few minutes, and when I return, with Daisy, you can tell me if that is a solution you’re both willing to embrace.”
Christopher Lyons didn’t give them a moment to stop him or ask him to explain. He simply left the room.
“Well, fuck.” Ramón ran his hand through his hair.
Chris figured the reason he was allowed to wear his hair a little longer than regulation had to do with the undercover assignments he’d worked in his career.
Pretty much from the beginning of his career, Ramón Estévez had worked undercover. He’d said that during their first meeting, and Clint had let it go then. But now he had to ask.
“Why such devotion to undercover work? Who are you after, really?” He thought for a moment that Estévez wasn’t going to answer him. Then the man sighed, and Clint had an idea that the last half-hour or so had knocked the usually under control G-man off his pins.
“The bottom-feeding piece of shit who kidnapped and murdered my sister when she was twelve years old.”
“How old were you at the time?”
“I’d turned eighteen a few months before. I managed to get a job, start night school, and I even had an apartment close to the group home where I’d just left and my sister still lived. The next step was waiting for a few months until I could petition the court for custody of her.”
Clint had always been able to see patterns with minimal hints. Now he thought he understood where Ramón was coming from, emotionally.
In his mind, he’d failed his sister and, therefore, didn’t believe he deserved to have any chance at a good life with Marcia. Clint took just a moment to identify his own goals. There were three things he knew for certain. The first was that Marcia was indeed a sub, and she was attracted to both Ramón and himself. The second was that Ramón had probably already fallen for the woman.
The third thing was th
at he had, too.
There’s one more thing you know, and you’d best admit that to yourself here and now. That perfect family you’ve been craving, the kind Adam Kendall, the sheriff of Lusty, Texas has, is right here in front of you. All you have to do is be brave enough, and smart enough, to reach for it.
Clint didn’t doubt his courage, just his smarts. Patterns. Ramón and Marcia would both have to let go of past failures if they wanted a future worth having. Clint’s challenge would be bringing the three of them together in the kind of triad that would be strong and would flourish. His personal challenge would be to accept the truth—he, alone, was likely not all the Dom that Marcia needed. If he wanted her as his sub, then he needed to promise himself he’d do what was necessary to give her everything she required. He would have to put her ahead of himself. That was what a good Dom was supposed to do. He hadn’t been that good Dom last time out.
He wouldn’t fail again.
Mentally gambling, he took the first step. “You went to that engagement party a couple weeks back, over in Lusty.”
“Of course, I did. I was surprised to see you, just as you were surprised to see us.” Estévez looked at him. “Part of the night—most of the night—it was you, me, and Marcia. Huh.”
Clint raised one eyebrow and waited.
“I’m just now realizing that she was as tuned into you as she was me.” He shook his head. “I guess the culture shock of that evening did a number on me.”
“Same thing happened to me the first time I drove into Lusty and spent time with Adam Kendall and his family. I know you get that Christopher, Daisy, and Rory are a family. Did you see the families in Lusty? Adam Kendall, his brother, and of course Ginny—their wife. Then there’s Rich and Donny, with their Iris.”
“Brothers.”
“You also spent some time talking to Mel Richardson and Connor Talbot. Adam told me they hadn’t known each other very long at all when they decided that they wanted to share Emily Anne as their wife.”
Avenging Angel [Tales from the Lyon's Den 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 3
