Hard to Serve: A Hard Ink Novella

by Laura Kaye

  “Good. But you’re still unhappy.” He frowned.

  She smiled, but it quickly faded from her face. “It happens.” What else could she say?

  They finished eating and her dad left, but now he had her thinking about Kyler, where earlier in the day she’d been distracted by the excitement of the newly arrived pieces for the show. She worked through the afternoon and into the early evening hoping to find her excitement again, but it felt like it was just out of reach.

  Part of her wished she’d kept her Blasphemy membership. It would be painful to see Kyler, but maybe if she did, maybe she could tell him…

  What?

  Hey, Kyler. Guess what? My dad said he doesn’t disapprove of us. Want to get back together now?

  Ugh. Lame.

  Because what a twenty-seven-year-old woman really wanted to do was have to convince a man to be with her. Using her father’s permission as a selling point.

  The ridiculousness of that made Mia laugh out loud, the sound echoing in the large space of the gallery.

  Bone tired, she cleaned up the last of the trash, turned out the lights, and locked up.

  Later, when she was in her bedroom and comfortable in her pajamas, Mia spied Master Quinton’s card on her dresser. Her heart gave a little pang for him, too. Not because she was interested in him sexually or romantically, but because she felt like he could’ve been a friend. And it felt like one more loss.

  Dropping onto the edge of her bed, Mia debated. And then she shot off a quick text message. Hi, Master Quinton. It’s Mia Breslin. We met at Blasphemy last month. Just wanted to thank you again for your kindness that night.

  She read it over once, twice, feeling kinda stupid. But there was a question she’d been thinking about, and he might be able to answer it. Or refer her to someone who could. On a yawn, she reached to plug her cell into the charger on her nightstand when it buzzed.

  He’d written back already? She smiled. Yes, he had.

  You’ve been thinking about my superpowers, haven’t you? Admit it. Q

  Laughing, Mia nodded. How could I not? Who can resist a great mystery? She stared at the phone, hoping he’d write back again.

  He did. When are you coming back in?

  The smile dropped off her face. What should she say? I don’t have a membership. She stared for another minute, then added. I was actually hoping you might be able to recommend another club in Baltimore. I love Blasphemy but it’s outside my range.

  Her phone rang immediately. Master Quinton’s number.

  Mia’s heart thundered in her chest as she answered. “Hello?”

  “Mia, I’m not your Dom,” he said by way of greeting, “but I’m about to give you an order. You ready?”

  “Um. Maybe?”

  His deep chuckle came down the line. “Get your ass over here right now.”

  “What? I’m in pajamas.”

  “This is Blasphemy. Clothing is entirely optional. Problem solved. What else you got?” he asked, humor plain in his tone.

  “Master Quinton, maybe you didn’t get my last text. I can’t come back to Blasphemy—”

  “I got it,” he said. “You can come back. You have a membership.”

  “I returned it,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Uh huh. Which is why your card is waiting for you at registration. Memberships are nonrefundable, Mia. You have one. Please use it. This is the only place where I can guarantee your safety, especially given some of your interests.”

  Meaning the breath play, no doubt. She sighed, confusion and competing reactions roaring through her.

  “Are you on your way yet?” he asked.

  She chuckled, a little exasperated. “Anyone ever tell you you’re bossy?”

  He barked out a laugh. “All the fucking time. See you in less than thirty.” He hung up.

  “Wait—” She groaned and flopped back on the bed. Now what was she going to do?

  Her phone buzzed. Better get moving, little subbie.

  Oh, my God. Why were Doms such pains in the asses? She chuckled, the pun tripping her tired, stupid-humor buttons. But she got out of bed, freshened up, brushed her hair into a ponytail, and put on an easy but sexy black cotton sheath dress with a big, deep cut-out in the back. “Good enough,” she said to her reflection.

  Mia arrived at Blasphemy with three minutes to spare. At the registration desk, she picked up her card and asked after Master Quinton. She found him tending bar.

  “There she is,” he said, his handsome face breaking into a big smile. He poured a glass of champagne before she’d even settled into the chair. “On the house.”

  “Aw, you’re too good to me, Master Quinton.” Seeing him again was bittersweet because she wasn’t at all sure coming here was a good idea.

  “No such thing,” he said, winking. “Get your card?”

  She smirked. “Yeah. Still not sure, though.”

  He shook his head. “Nothing to be sure about. It’s yours whether you use it or not. Might as well use it.” He gave her a pointed look.

  She nodded and sipped at her champagne.

  Mia hadn’t come to play. She wasn’t in the mood. But she enjoyed the music and the champagne and the company of talking to Master Quinton in between his other customers. But it was late, and she had another long day of work in front of her tomorrow. She waved for her friend, because that was definitely how he felt to her, and Master Quinton made his way back to her. “I’m going to head out. Thanks for ordering my ass here tonight. It was good to see you.”

  He gave her a crooked smile. “Good to see you, too. Don’t wait too long ’til it happens again.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good girl.” He winked.

  On her way back to the front of the club, Mia stopped at the restroom. When she came out again, she froze in her tracks. Because Kyler was standing at the far end of the hallway. Looking right at her.

  Her belly went for a loop-the-loop. There was no way to avoid him. And, if she was seriously going to consider taking Master Quinton’s advice, she was going to have to face him sooner or later. Might as well be now.

  “Master Kyler,” she said, giving him a cool nod. Her body tightened in his presence, muscle memory of all the incredible things they’d shared.

  “Mia, I’m glad to see you’ve come.” Thick arms crossed, back against the wall, he was even sexier than she remembered. Damn him.

  “Your gift was far too generous, but I understand it can’t be returned.”

  “That’s right. So please use it.” He met her gaze, and she couldn’t read anything in his eyes. Not anything at all.

  But what did his words mean? Use it so they could play together? Or use it and play with someone else? Anyone else? What did she have to lose by asking? Because part of her needed to know what he’d say. “Use it to be with you? Or…”

  He flinched. She would’ve sworn he did. He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. But there are…plenty of other…” He shifted feet and raked a hand through his hair. “Others who will be better. For you.”

  A sickening tingling spread outward from her belly. He really didn’t want her. And he was encouraging her to play with or find someone else. “Sure, sure.” She crossed her arms, anger and hurt flooding through her anew. “So, what would you recommend? Are Friday and Saturday the best nights to meet someone? Is there another Blasphemy Master you think I should meet? I mean, Master Quinton is pretty awesome. What do you think of him for me? I’d love your advice,” she said, screwing with him.

  His eyes narrowed on her, heat sparking in the dark depths. “Uh, well…” Discomfort rolled off of him, and not a little agitation, too.

  She sighed. “Bye, Kyler. See you on Friday night, if you’re around.” Because his idiocy was pressing her buttons, making her resolved not to let him run her off from this place she loved and this lifestyle she needed.

  Yeah, she’d be back. She’d be back and ready to move on. From him.

  Chapter 12<
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  Captain Burkett caught Kyler in the hall. “Your investigation has been concluded. Word just came down to me. I don’t know anything else yet, but we’ve got a four o’clock meeting with Breslin and Foster. Upstairs in the commissioner’s office. Don’t be late.”

  “I won’t. Do you have any sense of the findings?” Kyler asked, his gut twisting in anticipation and a little fear, too. Because everything he cared about was on the line. Being a detective, protecting and serving, carrying on the family legacy.

  Not everything, a little voice interjected. Not Mia.

  But Kyler shoved that whole line of thought away. That wasn’t going to happen. No matter how hard it was going to be to watch her find someone else at Blasphemy, she wasn’t his. Even if he thought her father might come around to accepting them and even if they could beat the odds and survive despite the demands of his job, both of which were seriously fucking debatable, Kyler had now pushed her away on multiple occasions. Fuck, he’d told her to find someone else—a fact that made him want to puke every time he remembered the stricken look on her face. His second chance with her had come and gone several times over now. He’d had a shot—a long shot—at something great, but even if he could see a way around all the obstacles, he’d fucked it up. And he couldn’t imagine what would make her take him seriously again.

  Assuming he wanted to ask that of her.

  Which he didn’t.

  Except he kinda did.

  Fuck.

  This was why he didn’t do relationships.

  The day crawled until his meeting, and Kyler was a fidgeting, caffeine-overloaded mess by the time he and Burkett were being called into Breslin’s office.

  The four men settled around the meeting table at the far end of the commissioner’s office.

  Foster started speaking, a long preamble about the investigation’s purpose and process. Kyler was on the verge of losing his fucking mind. “Can you please cut to the chase?”

  The IA guy looked bored. “You’ve been cleared, Detective. As soon as you can meet your target-shooting qualifications, you can return to duty. There won’t be any permanent mark on your personnel file.”

  Elation roared through Kyler’s blood. “I’m cleared? It’s really over?” He glanced from one man to the other and found his captain smiling and nodding. And the news was even better because two days ago, for the first time, he’d come within points of passing those quals. He was going to beat the consequences of this injury. His arm and shoulder were getting stronger with each workout, each physical therapy session, each new round of shooting practice. For the first time, he breathed a sigh of relief because he actually believed he was going to get his life back now. He hadn’t really believed it until this moment.

  “Congratulations, Detective Vance,” Burkett said, rising. He offered his hand, and they shook.

  “Thank you, Captain.” Kyler gave Foster a nod and then looked at Commissioner Breslin. Kyler had seen him around headquarters, of course, but this meeting was the first time since the uncomfortable conversation at that restaurant that they’d spoken.

  Breslin rose and offered his hand. “I’m glad it worked out, Detective.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “You’re dismissed,” Breslin said.

  Burkett clapped Kyler on the back as they turned from the table. They were almost out the door when Breslin spoke again.

  “Detective, one more thing?”

  Kyler retraced his steps into the big office. “Sir?”

  “Detective Foster, would you give us the room, please?”

  The IA investigator blinked up. “Oh, of course.” He slipped out of the office, and Burkett left, too. The door closed behind them.

  Here it came. The warning away from his daughter. Kyler had been expecting it for weeks, so he wasn’t surprised it was coming. Though delivering it on the heels of his good news seemed kinda harsh. For fuck’s sake.

  But at least the man hadn’t let knowledge of Kyler dating his daughter impact the investigation. He had to respect that much.

  Breslin finally sighed. “What you do on your personal time is your business, Detective.”

  Kyler waited. And waited. Okay. What the hell was that supposed to mean? “Yes, sir.”

  “It’s none of my business.”

  The fuck? What was happening right now? “I appreciate that,” Kyler managed.

  “Aw, for Christ’s sake,” Breslin said. “Were you this dense with Mia, too?”

  The commissioner could’ve smacked him over the head with a frying pan and Kyler would’ve been less surprised. “Uh, probably.”

  Breslin smiled, and then the smile grew into a chuckle. “Yeah. Well, then stop that bullshit now and get your head out of your ass.”

  Was he…giving Kyler permission to date his daughter? Or his blessing? Or, at the very least, not threatening to cut off Kyler’s dick? Because that’s what it seemed like. “Uh, roger that, sir.”

  “We clear here?” Breslin gave him a pointed look.

  Kyler inhaled to reply in the affirmative, but other words came tumbling out. “You seriously have no reservations about your daughter dating a cop?”

  Breslin dropped into the chair behind his desk and gave him a droll stare. “Only about a million.”

  “Then why—”

  “I have my reasons. The rest is between the two of you.” The man clasped his hands over his stomach, his eyes observant and open.

  Kyler grasped the back of one of the leather chairs. His brow furrowed as he debated.

  “What’s on your mind, Kyler?”

  He met Breslin’s dark eyes, so like Mia’s. And in that moment, the two men in that room weren’t boss and employee, they were just two men who cared about the same woman. “My parents divorced. My grandparents. I was trying to stay away. Because I didn’t want to do that to Mia.”

  The older man tilted his head, giving him an appraising look. “Lots of jobs are hard on relationships. And not a single relationship offers any guarantees. You get out of a relationship what you put in. And Mia’s a hundred-and-ten-percent kinda woman. So I guess I have to ask, what kind of man are you?” He arched a brow.

  Well, fuckity fuck. When he put it like that…

  When he put it like that Kyler suddenly saw the whole pile of his rationalizations and justifications melt away like a sand castle made without any water, soft and unable to hold shape.

  Could it really be that easy? Not the relationship itself, but the leap of faith that they could make it work. If they wanted it and fought for it hard enough.

  And, oh shit, just two nights ago he’d told her to find someone else to play with. And she’d said she’d see him this weekend. Which meant, she’d be at Blasphemy tonight.

  “We clear now?” Breslin asked.

  “Crystal, sir.” Kyler’s heart thundered in his chest, urgency rushing through him.

  “Glad to hear it, Detective. Dismissed.”

  Kyler came to attention, then turned and left before Breslin changed his mind.

  Back at his desk, the room wouldn’t stop spinning. Because what the commissioner said could change everything. If Kyler let it.

  Question was, did he really want to open himself up that way again?

  The answer pounded through him with every beat of his pulse. Yes. Yes. Yes.

  Because Mia…Mia was worth the risk. Mia was worth everything.

  Don’t be a goddamned coward, Vance.

  Fuck. Fuck.

  He dropped his head into his hand and scrubbed at his face. Fact, he wanted her. Fact, not too long ago, she’d wanted him. Fact, the things he thought stood in their way no longer did—or maybe they never had, and he’d had his head up his ass just like Breslin said. Fact, Mia was going to be looking for another play partner. Fact, he didn’t want her to find one.

  Which meant he had to make amends. And he had to do it in a big way. Because unlike that first time, a simple apology wasn’t going to cut it this time. He knew that into his v
ery soul.

  Looking at his watch, Kyler found that he had two hours until Blasphemy opened its doors, maybe four until things really got hopping. Opening an e-mail, he read over the schedule to see who was on tonight. Master Griffin was on the registration desk. Perfect. He shot off a text.

  Can you please let me know if Mia Breslin shows up tonight?

  No doubt the other man was going to have a field day with this, but it would be worth it. Worth it to have a chance with her.

  Griffin’s reply came back quickly. About fucking time.

  Kyler shook his head and put away his phone. He checked out a few things online, and then he grabbed his jacket and headed out.

  Because he had a woman to win back tonight. He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

  * * * *

  Blasphemy was crowded and pulsing with life, the sounds of sex and submission in the air. Mia had gone out and purchased a new leather mini-dress with spaghetti straps, a zipper that ran from the low neckline to the short skirt’s hem, and a plunging back. She’d needed the confidence boost of something new and sexy and fun.

  Making her rounds to watch the different public scenes, she chatted with a few people, but no one who truly captured her attention. She stopped at a ménage scene with a woman bent over and tied down to a fuck bench. One Dom hammered into her from behind, while another mercilessly fucked her mouth.

  Taking it all in, Mia’s pulse raced and her core grew wet. What would that be like? She’d never had multiple partners at once before, and it was something that definitely intrigued her. And clearly turned her on.

  And it would be different from being with Kyler, a little voice whispered.

  “How are you tonight?” came a deep voice.

  Mia turned to the Dom, tall and tan, with shoulder-length blond hair. Beside him stood another man, a little shorter, but seriously built, and with a close buzz cut of his dark hair. The blond especially radiated the kind of hallmark authority of a true Dom. Mia’s body hummed, recognizing it instantly.

  “I’m good, thank you,” she said with a smile.

  “I’m Jonathan,” the blond man said. “And this is Cruz.”

  Mia shook their hands and gave them her name. They both wore the cuffs identifying Blasphemy’s Master Dominants.