by India Kells
Mac looked around. “He’s right. Neat. I’ve stayed in worse.”
“And in much better, from what you revealed.”
“That bit of information shall never resurface, thank you.”
Gabrielle chuckled and let it go. “Did you have a chance to meet Lance’s brother? Wesley?”
“Not yet, I wanted to do some grocery shopping first.”
Mac heard Sullivan snicker in the background.
“What? Why is Sully laughing?”
“Ignore him, just make sure to introduce yourself, let him know you are there.”
“By the way, what did you tell him about me? The reason I’m here.”
“Nothing specific. Lance didn’t want to advertise outside our close circle. Sully is the one who called him. He wasn’t happy to accept a new tenant, even though it’s his brother’s, and he sounded grumpy, to say the least. At the end, he told Sully that he didn’t care and that if Owen wanted to rent the apartment, it wasn’t in his business, as he lived at his brother’s only until he came back.”
“I’m lost, I thought Lance was to call Wesley to tell him I was arriving.”
“The relationship between Wesley and his brothers is a little strained right now. Lance phoned Owen to rent the empty apartment beside his own, which he accepted. Wesley is managing his brother’s club while he’s away, strangely they don’t talk in reality. You see how weird the whole thing is. I trust Lance when he says it’s a secure place, but as for understanding the entire Sorenson dynamic, it’s beyond my capacities.”
“So to get this straight, Lance asked his baby brother, who’s away, to rent one of his apartments on top of his club, while the older brother is managing it, although he’s not talking to his two siblings. Got it.”
Gabrielle laughed. “You know me; I like it simple. I have other ways to get information. I spoke to Beatrice’s husband, Admiral Feander, as he often lends us Lance. It seems that all three brothers are officially under the Admiral’s command. All three of them are Navy SEALs, but Owen, the youngest, is no longer part of the teams, he’s working black ops. As for Wesley, the information I got was that he was in recovery.”
“Recovery?”
“Yeah. The admiral didn’t offer much, but I did my own little search. Wesley Sorenson participated in a mission gone wrong, and was captured by the enemy. His entire team was massacred in the firefight apart from him and one of his men. He was presumed dead for six months, all the while tortured. The other prisoner perished and it was miraculous Wesley survived. But he was physically impaired, so imagine his psychological state. He had refused help, determined to get in shape on his own.”
“Whoa.” Mac had heard of soldiers coming back from war with severe cases of PTSD. She couldn’t wrap her mind around what Wesley had endured.
“Yeah. And his returning put a strain on the family. His brothers wanted to help, but he’s pushing them away, too. That’s why Sully called. Wesley wouldn’t even talk to Lance. So don’t expect a lot of interaction with him. He’s your go-to person if you need anything. However, we are not sure how much help he would be if ever Calvi finds you there.”
“Understood. I was planning to keep to myself anyway.”
“Don’t play the hermit too much, that draws more attention than you think. Find some kind of routine, try to blend in the immediate neighborhood, get a job if you want. That’s your best protection. In the meantime, don’t worry, we are doing everything in our power to find Calvi and end this.”
Mac closed her eyes, and hoped she was right. As she looked around, saw the clock on the wall. “It’s eight p.m. here already. I’ll go get something to eat and let the Sorenson brother know I have arrived.”
“You do that. I’m one phone call away if you need me.”
“Find that freak, Gab. I want to go back to work.”
Chapter 4
“You gotta be kidding me.” Mac stood in front of the club’s elegant entrance and crossed her arms in disbelief as she read the golden letters on the door sign once again.
The Wolf’s Den
BDSM Private Club
So that’s why Sullivan was laughing his ass off on the phone. And why Gabrielle carefully kept her mouth shut. Wise woman. Mac considered herself open-minded, she liked sex, just not extreme sex. And now, her safe house was above a place where people were getting whipped willingly. Interesting. Never a dull moment.
“It’s only a club, girl. You’ve seen and done worse. Well, not in the sexual side anyway,” Mac muttered to herself, feeling foolish for even hesitating at the entrance. So she stepped forward and pulled the brass handle.
The lobby was magnificent, a lounge where chocolate leather sofas were lined along gray walls with an ornate fireplace blazing at the center of the room surrounded by plush chairs. A small bar in the corner added an old pub charm.
Nobody in sight. Opposite to the room stood a deep green tufted door. With no possibility of knocking, she pushed it open. In front of her was a long corridor with similar doors on both sides, regularly spaced with dark-gray walls.
Opulence was the first word that came into Mac’s mind. She started walking down the hallway. She couldn’t open a door, could she? Each one was adorned with unique numbered brass plates.
Still nobody in sight, she pushed open a door and blinked.
Mac had stepped into a barn. No, correct that. Not a barn, a very upscale, posh stable. The room was decorated with two stalls doors, ornamented with hand-wrought iron, high wooden posts, and even hay bales. Unable to make up her mind, she exited.
“Okay, now what?” Still stunned, Mac turned and decided to open another door. Curiosity had definitely gotten the best of her. Steam billowed out and humidity clung to her skin as she stepped into an amazing reproduction of a Turkish hammam. The decor was beautiful and for a moment, she completely forgot where she was. A fountain poured into a deep basin. Only the very explicit mosaics on the wall reminded the true purpose of this room.
Mac closed the door and was now impatient to see what the third one may hold. The door led to a room that was the epitome of what BDSM represented in her mind, or more precisely what she thought it was supposed to be. A four-poster bed draped with crimson curtains at the side of the room almost made her shiver. There were two leather chairs with strange-looking attachments, a spanking bench, a St. Andrew’s cross, and so many straps and rings on a deep ruby red upholstered walls, her mind reeled. And by the opposite the door, a magnificent dark throne. It was one thing to read novels about that, it was a complete new experience to be in such a place.
“Who the hell are you?” a male voice boomed in the room, making her jump out of her skin.
Heart pounding, she clutched her breast, looking around. She was still alone, though. The words came from everywhere inside. There must be cameras, too.
Catching her breath, she answered loudly, “Hello? I’m searching for Wesley Sorenson. There was nobody at the front door, and—”
“End of the hall, last door to the right.”
Well, for a dungeon god, he was anything but polite. He had the voice, though. Could it be part of the character?
As she shut the door behind her, Mac bypassed all the other doors—although curiosity almost got the best of her—and went for the last one on the right. Again, as the door was tufted, she didn’t knock.
When she pushed the door open, it was as if walking inside a spaceship. The light gray walls were covered with screens. And behind the desk looking like a helm, sat a very angry captain. When he stood up, Mac made sure her mouth stayed shut.
The man was tall with wide shoulders, but not bulky. His black Henley shirt fit him, hinting lean muscles and trim waist. His legs fascinated her, strong under his dark wash jeans. His hair was on the long end of a classic crew cut and a dusky kind of blond. His square jaw was set, his face attractive despite his hard features. Undoubtedly, in front of her stood Wesley, the older brother of Lance. To where Lance was the most handsome man Mac had ever seen, hence hi
s nickname of Norse god, Wesley looked more rugged, dangerous. A god of war. The way he moved, Mac recognized the operative he was. Apart from the slight limp, he approached with studied efficiency as he rounded the desk in her direction.
No smile, no hand shake—this warrior god was overall displeased with her, and didn’t bother to hide it.
“You’re the new tenant? I’d been told you were to arrive.”
The man’s searing blue eyes looked her up and down. Was it disgust she saw? Mac struggled to keep a friendly face and not kick him in the balls.
“The club will open in an hour; you’re not supposed to be here. The barman will hear about it.”
Mac clenched her teeth. Could he be more irritating? It would have been so tempting to punch some sense into him, but she had to remind herself of her cover. “Okay. I was only to tell you I had arrived anyway. Which is done. I’ll leave now. Sweet dreams.”
The man nodded and stayed there, arms crossed and still vexed. Good thing she wouldn’t have to deal with him from now on. He was as irritating as he was pleasing to look at. Perhaps he would be in a better mood if she bent him over the spanking bench for an hour or two.
Smiling at the enticing thought, Mac made her way back to the entrance, but this time, the lobby wasn’t empty. Besides a barman, who was busy before the opening behind the counter, two women and one man were chatting by the fire. They all stopped talking when she appeared. Mac felt underdressed in her jeans and green long sleeve T-shirt.
“We didn’t see you come in. Please tell me you’re my nine o’clock appointment.”
The man stood, his body encased in a navy suit, cut to emphasize his shoulders and trim waist. All smiles, he extended his hand to her. Pure Latin charm, black hair perfectly framing his face, his dark eyes twinkled with anticipation.
“I’m Sebastian.”
Mac grinned, amused. “And I’m not your appointment, I’m afraid. I’m the new tenant, upstairs.”
“Oh.” Did she notice disappointment? “Well, at least we will see you around often, I hope.”
Instead of releasing her hand, he gently pulled her to the seating area in the corner. The two women already there were as breathtaking as they were different.
The first woman, sheathed in an intricate bandage dress made of deep burgundy leather, smiled. Her skin gleamed like polished onyx with beautiful shimmering eyes. Her black hair was curled down over her shoulders in a very stylish manner.
“I’m Margot. You have already met Sebastian, and may I present Lilianne.”
Mac turned to the pixie blonde-haired woman, batting her baby blues at her with a mischievous smile, wearing an electric blue latex cocktail dress that looked as if it had been poured on her naked body.
“Very pleased to meet the brave soul willing to sleep on top of our modest club. I admire your courage!”
“No courage needed, I assure you. Please, call me Mac.”
Sebastian kissed her hand and made her sit beside him. Mac was amused. Charm and seduction oozed from him and it made her wonder what he hid underneath that handsome veneer.
“Mac, strange name for such a lovely woman.”
She smiled. “A nickname from a long time ago. It stuck, and now all my friends call me that.”
Margot smirked. “It must be the red hair and green eyes. I’m sure you must have Scottish ancestors in your lineage. Well, if it’s your natural color, of course.”
Mac winked. “Of course.”
“Margot! That’s not something to say! Excuse her, Mac. She clearly got sidetracked and not focusing on the real matter. Why did you end up in Owen’s second apartment?”
Mac hesitated and realized her mistake. Those three musketeers had sensed a juicy story, probably involving their boss, and they were not ready to let it go. They leaned forward, riveted.
“Well, it’s not very interesting. Quite dull, I must say.”
Lilianne clapped her hands in glee. “She blushes. I smell a torrid affair!”
If only they knew. Mac shook her head, but before she could control the damage, a low, rumbling voice boomed behind her.
“What are you still doing here?”
All attention turned to Wesley, standing ominous and frowning on the threshold. The cold stare traveled from Mac to the three others, laser-beam sharp.
“Your first appointments are due in less than fifteen minutes and she has nothing to do in here.”
Lilianne rolled her eyes and got to her feet. Margot followed suit, straightened her gown, and leaned closer to Mac. “He’s a natural slave driver. With some training he would make a world-class dungeon master.”
Mac couldn’t help but bite her lip and replied in the same conspiratorial manner, “Yeah, I had that impression, too.”
As she stood, Sebastian grabbed her hand again, skimming his mouth over the sensitive skin. “I can’t wait to know every inch of your mysterious soul, sweet angel.” His eyes, fixed on her, would certainly melt glaciers.
“Nice to meet you, Sebastian.”
He winked. “To chance encounters, my lady.”
The three of them scurried away, leaving her again with their temperamental babysitter.
“Do you need help finding the door, or the concept is too difficult for you to grasp?”
Mac turned to leave but caught herself. She never could stand bullies, even wounded ones. Led by inspiration, she marched in front of him. His reaction was subtle as if bracing for an attack. She also noticed how he minded his leg. This infuriating man needed to be taken by surprise, the only way to reach him in her opinion. She didn’t slow, and before he could react, Mac grabbed his head and pulled him down to kiss him.
The main idea had been to startle him, and it obviously worked, as their teeth clashed. Afterward, she had the intention of pushing him back, leaving him lost and breathless. It didn’t exactly work the way she had planned. Strong hands grabbed her hips and drew her closer and the worst-ever lip lock turned into a heated response. Mac was now plastered against every single inch of hard body she could touch, and her head buzzed with flooding lust, being kissed like there was no tomorrow. On their own volition, her hands traced his straining neck and felt the vibration of his groan. Just before she was about to lose all her working brain cells and remaining good sense, she pulled back. Wesley released her, breathing hard. They looked at each other for a long minute, panting, before she finally smiled.
“Well, at least you’re not frowning anymore.”
Not the comeback she imagined, but she decided that it was enough for her to make her exit, without turning to a puddle at his feet.
Chapter 5
Routine wasn’t something Mac had been accustomed to in her life. And when it came close to it, she only had to sleep it off or hop onto a plane to her next mission to stop her misery.
Now, she didn’t have a choice but to remain at the same location and face that routine demon. The building was in a busy street by day, so to avoid unwanted encounters, she established her daily schedule by night. Fewer people around and it was easier to keep an eye on possible threats.
Weeks passed as she found her rhythm to her great surprise. Her evening started with a run, followed with grocery shopping before returning to her apartment to bake until dawn. It had been a real pleasure and true blessing to be able to indulge in her hobby. It reminded her of when she spent time with their cook in the kitchen. Her mother would have been so shocked to see her daughter enjoying something so mundane and unfit to her rank.
To her great delight, Mac even had a small contract with a local coffee shop. It was a relief to keep herself busy. The only thing missing was her rifle. Her hands itched for her weapon and a target range. Impossible here, and with each passing day, she grew more anxious of losing her skills and accuracy. When the sky started to light up, the sun not quite showing itself over the horizon, often restless, she would go for another run or simply walk, to calm her whirling mind before finally falling on her bed.
Every nigh
t, she refrained from calling Gabrielle. Every night, she held back from grabbing her cell phone and checking once more if she hadn’t missed a message telling her that they had found Calvi, finally allowing her to get back to her life.
No luck on that part. Impatience and frustration darkened her mood in such a way that when she saw a little note pinned on her door from Sebastian, inviting her for coffee, she was only mildly interested and God knew she needed some sort of distraction. The thing was, she wasn’t sure the naked tango with Sebastian was the answer. Not when her mind wouldn’t allow her to forget the lips of an irritating man who should not be named.
In her apartment, awaiting sunrise, she opened the fridge door for the third time and closed it with more force than necessary. She wasn’t hungry, her delivery had been completed, and it was only a question of hours before the sun would be up, the city bustling with life again, and she went to bed. Mac had energy to burn despite a grueling run earlier. She needed to go out again before exploding.
