by Anthology
* * *
Marianna Banta followed the real estate agent inside a condo overlooking Hillsborough Bay. As she walked through the empty space, she made a beeline for the window that had a view of the bay. It was perfect, and the view had sold her. It reminded her of the fishing trips she and Luc would take down the Texas coast. Whenever they stayed in Port Aransas, they would get a condo with a similar view. This view and her memories would keep her focused. She had a mission, and the waterfront view along with the scents of the salt water and its sea life would keep her purpose front and center.
Marianna was barely listening as the real estate agent droned on, “As you can see this property has a—”
“I’ll take it,” Marianna said abruptly.
“Uh, do you want to know about the amenities of the property?”
“I said, I’ll take it. Let’s go draw up the paperwork,”
“Are you sure? I have five more I’ve scheduled us to look at.”
“Do any of them have a view of the water better than this one?”
“Not exactly but—“
“I’m not interested. I’ll take this one.”
“Okay then, I’ll meet you back at my office?”
“I’m right behind you,”
As she drove out of Hyde Park toward her real estate agent’s downtown office, her phone rang and the app announced the caller over the Bluetooth in her car. Before she could answer with a greeting, an overjoyed voice interrupted her.
“Are you here yet?”
“Hello, Dessie, and yes, I’m here. I’ve been here for a few days now.”
“Wait. What? Why didn’t you call when you got here?”
“I had a lot to do. I’m buying a condo and I needed to get settled besides I know you’re busy.”
“You are in some serious trouble!”
“Des—”
“No! I’m kicking your ass when I see you! Where are you?”
“I’m not telling you if you’re out to kick my ass.”
“Can we meet for lunch?”
“I guess…I’m following the real estate agent to her office to get a contract in place.”
“Whohoo! You really are moving here!”
“I told you I was. Let me call you as soon as I’m done. We just pulled up to her office.”
2
“So… how’s it going?” Mac asked as he picked up his glass and took a drink. Lars looked around the tavern and didn’t say anything. “Val, I saw you when you walked in to the baggage terminal. I know how you feel, and it’s going to take some time to get your head right again. Guys like us don’t need to be sitting around cutting ourselves open and spilling our guts in group therapy, but believe me when I say you’ll need to at least talk to a professional to help you transition. Until you’re ready, I got what you need.
“What’s that, Mac?”
“You need another mission, and… I have one for you.”
Lars picked up his beer and took a long drink. He’d already come here on a mission, one Mac couldn’t possibly know anything about. “Oh? What kind of mission?”
“You know about my security firm, I also have a club that needs a strong manager, and until you feel like a normal person, running my club will give you something to do.”
“You own a club?”
“It’s a very exclusive club, Val. The kind that requires tight security and access for the safety of the patrons.”
Lars caught the meaning of what Mac was trying to explain without him coming right out with it. All the long days and nights waiting for a target or just doing recon didn’t go by in total silence. Lars had gotten to know the men he’d served with, and they’d gotten to know him.
“I don’t know about this whole club thing. That shit is your thing, not mine.”
“Well, I’m looking for a guy to do mall security. Is that more your speed?”
“Jesus Christ, Mac!” Lars shook his head, “I’ll figure out something that doesn’t involve a mall security gig or running your freak show.”
“Seriously, man, the club is something very important to me. Of all the people I could ask, I’m asking you because I trust you.”
“If I do this, it’ll be short-term, understood?”
“What the fuck else are you going to do? Become a monk?”
Lars laughed at the comment. It was the first time in a very long time he’d heard something that made him laugh a deep belly laugh. He’d missed the camaraderie of his brother in arms.
Mac’s phone rang, and he glanced at the screen and answered. “Yeah, baby? What’s up?” He listened for a minute, “Seriously? How long has she been here? You tell her…”
Lars picked at his food and thought about Mac’s offer. Mac was right about one thing: Lars wasn’t the type to hand out tissues in group therapy, and he had been meaning to get some help for his PTSD. He’d even made an appointment with a private doctor in Virginia where he’d been a few months ago. He’d gotten as far as the doors of the office before he turned around and left. As he thought about Mac’s offer, he knew it would be just the thing to get him in the right place. Since Lars had come back from all the endless tours, nothing had been right in his life. Steady work and biding his time could get him going in the right direction and finally free him.
Mac ended his call. “Sneaky little shit!” Mac mumbled as he put away his phone. He redirected his attention to Lars, “So?”
Lars shrugged, “Sure, why the hell not.”
* * *
Marianna waited at the bar for her cousin Dessie to arrive. Instead of lunch, they ended up having dinner. Getting the contract in place and settling up the money for her new digs had taken the better part of the afternoon. As she sat waiting, she made notes on her phone and added to her lists of things to do. Soon, she’d meet with an informant who could possibly lead her to the most elusive criminal the world had seen since the infamous Jackal, la Viuda Negra, the Black Widow. She needed to finish her investigative series on the ghostly Mexican drug lord, but had no intention of returning to Austin or the Austin American Statesman. As soon as she was done and the Black Widow was either in custody or dead, she would make a complete move to Tampa and seek journalistic opportunities in Florida.
The grief she still harbored for her husband had become unbearable in the house they’d shared for twenty years. She wasn’t a weak woman given to bouts of weepy depression. She was strong, able, and independent. Being an investigative journalist, one could say she had a dangerous career. But losing her husband to a murderer with no conscience and trying to sleep in the bed they’d shared had exacted an extremely heavy toll, and she had decided she needed a fresh start in a new town. She hadn’t broken the news to anyone in her family other than Dessie, and even then, had sworn her to secrecy until she was ready to cut all her ties in Texas.
She began to realize that her obsession with finding the woman who’d murdered her husband had kept her from moving forward with her life. It had been nearly impossible to move on from her strong, incredibly devoted marriage to her best friend. The union had been made even stronger yet by open, honest communication because Luc had not only been her husband, he had been her submissive. And the trust built on the foundation of their honesty, devotion, and communication brought them inseparably close.
In order to better understand her needs and the needs of her husband, she had written a series of articles that resulted in controversy but had also become a springboard for more open-minded discussion that led to a better understanding of a long misunderstood lifestyle, and in the end, won her the Pulitzer Prize for Explanatory Reporting. Her research helped her to understand why Luc didn’t fit the generally accepted profile of a submissive man; he wasn’t weak or effeminate, nor had he been psychologically damaged. He was a straight, well adjusted, happily married man. He’d been a highly decorated US Marine and police officer. He was by far one of the best officers the Austin Police Department had and had been handpicked to lead their new Gang Violence Uni
t to try and stop the ever-increasing threat the Mexican Mafia posed in Texas.
Together, they took a journey into meeting each other’s needs both sexually and psychologically. She’d learned that submission for him was much deeper than pain and sexual pleasure. He dealt with violence and chaos at work, but when he got home, he needed stability and calm; he needed to let it go. He needed release. She would be his soft place to fall, the lee of the wall.
Her husband had been gone for three long, painful years. She worked by day and spent countless nights rediscovering her identity. And it had taken her every hour of that time to find the animal who’d taken Luc from her. She’d funneled her grief into finding what seemed like a ghost.
Marianna had been relentless following up on every lead. Finally, she’d found a woman who’d been arrested on minor drug trafficking charges, and playing a hunch, she went and talked to the woman. Being a seasoned investigative journalist and promising anonymity, the woman gave her a name– Jimena Montez, or as her associates called her, la Viuda Negra. It was no wonder the Black Widow was so elusive; she’d started her criminal career by forging documents for the human trafficking trade and, from all accounts, was the best in Central America. Marianna took that information, less the source, to a DEA agent who’d been investigating Luc’s death and its ties to the Mexican Mafia and ultimately the drug cartels in Mexico. Her information had proven invaluable to the investigation, and little by little, the DEA, FBI, ICE, Texas Rangers and Austin PD had chipped away at the Black Widow’s vast holdings within the United States. They had her on the run and had made her a liability to her cartel partners.
Moving to Tampa would allow Marianna to have some kind of family support system and still have the ability to start over again. A voice shouted her name from across the restaurant. She turned slowly and saw a well-dressed woman rushing toward her. When she arrived, they hugged and Marianna felt as if a weight had been lifted.
“Dessie!”
Coming from behind was her cousin’s husband, Chase. Words failed her when she saw him. Chase MacKennzie was a handsome, mountain of a man who exuded power and strength. He reminded her of a big silver bear. But it hadn’t always been that way. She recalled when they had moved to Texas while he’d been stationed at Fort Sam Houston. He’d been a Green Beret in the Army and had been sent to the Brook Army Medical Hospital after being wounded in Iraq. His discharge from the military had left him angry and violent. She recalled the night Dessie had been in a panic because he’d locked himself in a bedroom and had a gun. Luc had managed to talk Chase into putting down the weapon and the two men had talked for a while. After that incident, Chase had gotten help, and together, he and Dessie worked through his demons. They moved back to his native Tampa where he started a private security firm. Marianna wrapped her arms around him and held on for a moment. He was the rock she’d been missing since Luc had been taken from her.
“You sneaky little shit! Why didn’t you call when you got here?”
“I’ve had a lot to do, and I didn’t want to call until I could spend some time with you.”
Releasing her, he stepped back and took her hands. “Are you all right?” Swallowing hard, Marianna took a deep breath and nodded as she looked away. He cupped her face and redirected her gaze. “Really?”
“Yeah, I’m good. It’s getting better.”
“We’ll talk later.”
3
Lars tossed the empty beer bottle in the recycle bin and wiped down the bar. Apparently, being the manager at this club also meant being a bartender when someone called out, as well as security staff. Mac was sure making good on his promise to keep Lars busy and tired. Since Lars found himself running the club, he’d hired two of the other guys from their old unit to help with some of the heavy lifting. Mac had known about the problems with the personnel in this club, and because he was split between two businesses, it was hard for him to maintain a handle on this one. So Lars immediately took charge and was in the process of cleaning up the business to allow it to thrive the way Mac had intended.
The Playground was a BDSM club catering to tourists in town for conventions. Sort of their home away from home, and Mac ensured their safety; everyone who came had to have a reservation made well in advance. They had to subject themselves to a background check and, depending on their pleasure, had to submit certification they were free of any STIs. No one came in unless they possessed the encrypted access card and the thumbprint matched. The club’s security was a sophisticated system based on encrypted QR code and biometrics. In the couple of weeks since he’d been here, he’d cleaned out the waitstaff and now he was in the process of cleaning up the cooks and bartenders.
Now Mac could relax when he came in to check on things and Lars was establishing a good routine in running the business. It was a Wednesday night, one of the slowest nights of the week. Lars had figured out how to best utilize the time by cleaning, restocking, looking over the food orders the cook had left for him, and doing paperwork when he didn’t have to tend bar. Today he found himself shorthanded, and the coolers and bar well were sadly empty. The club had less than twenty people with reservations tonight, but from Thursday to Tuesday the club would be packed to capacity, and he’d need to be walking around.
As he filled the far cooler, electricity tinged the air around him, making the hair on the back of his neck rise. His sharply honed sniper senses made him keenly aware that something had changed in the huge open space of the bar and main floor of the club. In his periphery, he noticed someone approaching. As he reached down to place the bottles into the cooler, he glanced up and straight into the eyes of a woman unlike any other he’d encountered before. She moved like a panther, her gait and bearing making it clear she was accustomed to commanding attention when she entered a room and didn’t care who stared. His cock hardened to steel.
Lars’ jaw slackened as he watched her walk toward him. As she deepened her silent hold on him, he stood transfixed, like a deer in the headlights. This woman was definitely out of his league. His skin tingled as her eyes touched every erogenous zone in his body while she looked him up and down. His pulse quickened making his arms tremble, and he became keenly aware that he’d lost his prized control. The loud crash of the bottles he’d been holding falling against the ones inside the cooler made him blink and look down. He quickly glanced back at her and saw her lips curve into a slight half smile. What the hell had just happened to him? Thankfully he blinked, breaking the spell she’d cast on him, and he quickly got back to the business of arranging the bottles he’d dropped, thankful nothing had broken.
“Christ! You okay? I heard that all the way in the kitchen.” Cade rushed to his side.
“I’m all right,” Lars growled a little harsher then he‘d intended.
“Let me help you—”
“Back up, dude! It’s fine. Nothing broke; they just slipped. Go finish what I asked you to do,” Lars said waving him off.
“Fine, motherfucker, go ahead and destroy the inventory. See if I try to assist again,” Cade mumbled as he walked off.
Lars rolled his eyes and arranged the rest of the bottles. Stocking the coolers gave him a chance to center himself and regain some of his equilibrium before he went to her.
“What can I get you?”
Her eyes glistened like polished obsidian as she stared at him. He couldn’t help feeling as if she was sizing him up.
“A glass of shiraz…for now,”
Her voice was low, sensually intimate, and her siren’s tone set fire to his imagination as he wondered if her husky tone would get more sensual in his bed. He turned around and picked up the wine bottle. Setting the glass in front of her, he poured and with the acuity and insight of his military training, he assessed her. She seemed to be a delicate, petite woman. He could tell by the sheen of her blouse, even in the dim light, that her clothes were of good quality. The deep creases of her sleeves told him she paid attention to detail. The heavy collar necklace sparkled richly when she
moved and caught the light. Her watch was understated, elegant, high class. The tantalizing for now, at the end of her request sent his dirty mind into overdrive as he struggled to concentrate and gain control of his body’s reactions.
“Let me know when you’re ready for something else.”
The bubbly giggle as she took her first drink made him shoot her a flirty smile.
“Oh, I will.”
He continued watching her off and on as he went about his chores. It was odd that she was alone; this wasn’t a pick-up club. Usually the guests came in pairs or multiples. In the three weeks since he’d been working here, he’d been able to call it since the first week. Dominant or submissive, pet or Master, Daddy or little one. He’d also become keenly aware of a phenomenon known as the female Dominant. But this woman wasn’t like any of them. It seemed to him as if they played games, and when it was all over, they went home and led normal lives. This woman was different. She radiated a quiet dominance that never left her. It seemed very much a part of her everyday life.
While he cleaned up and made drinks, he could feel her watching him. Then it occurred to him that she might be waiting for someone. Evil jealousy overtook him. It was powerful, and he struggled to understand why he was jealous of someone who may or may not be meeting a woman he’d barely said ten words to and knew nothing about. As he wiped down the bar again, he noticed her drink was getting low. He could start a conversation with her if he got her another glass of wine. Before he could get to her, one of the guests took a seat next to her. Lars’ hackles rose as a sudden twinge of hatred needled him. Who the fuck was this guy? His reaction to what was happening made him blink and regroup. He didn’t know what the hell had just come over him but it took everything he had not walk over and break the weaselly little fucker talking to her in two. He tried to focus on his task but couldn’t. Instead, he casually eavesdropped to determine how serious these two were.
