by Sophie Oak
Abby’s mouth dropped open. Then a slow, appreciative smile crossed her face. “You little sneak. I love you so much right now.”
He winked at her. The day was looking up. She appeared properly impressed with his more criminally inclined talents. He might be able to convince her to spend some time in Christa’s office. He had fond memories of the desk in there. He wouldn’t mention to her that he’d figured out her password, too. He always kept tabs on those he loved. “I checked his voice mail. There was one he’d already listened to, but hadn’t erased. It was a message from Julian.”
“Why do I know that name?” Abby asked as she took a long drink of iced tea.
This was the part he was pretty sure she wouldn’t like. “He’s the man who runs The Club.”
“That’s right,” she said, obviously remembering. Jack had told her about the time they had spent in Dallas. Sam was pretty sure she’d gotten a nicely sanitized version of what went on there. “Julian Lodge. He’s Jack’s old mentor. He sent that lovely bouquet to the hospital when Jack was there. What did he need?”
“He didn’t say exactly.” Sam took a bite of the burger but everything tasted like cardboard to him today. He put it down. “He told Jack to call him in that voice of his.”
Abby leaned in and glanced around, as though worried someone was listening in. He knew she had a lot of questions about the time he and Jack had spent at the BDSM club in Dallas. While Jack had worked there as a resident Dom, Sam had tended bar.
“Which voice is that?” She gasped as she answered her own question. “He’s a Dom like Jack, isn’t he?”
Sam nodded and fought off his shiver. Julian Lodge scared the crap out of him sometimes. “He’s the Dom of Doms, baby. You know how Jack gets when he’s really in control? That voice he gets that you just can’t disobey?”
A smile crossed her face, likely because she was remembering some good times. Hell, he couldn’t stop thinking about it either. Jack would growl in that voice of his, and Abby would be on her knees at his feet, her clothes lost in a flurry of obedience. He loved watching her submit. He wanted so fucking badly to kneel next to her, to know his turn was going to come.
“I know the voice, Sam.” Her tone was husky with remembered pleasure.
“Well, multiply it by a hundred and know that Julian Lodge uses it twenty-four seven.”
She flushed, her skin turning a pretty pink. “Wow, and he taught Jack?”
“Yep, though Jack doesn’t take it as far as Julian does,” Sam explained. Of course, Jack hadn’t been taking it anywhere lately. “Jack likes a sub when it comes to sex.”
Abby’s smile was wry. “Does he? I couldn’t tell. I can’t see his face when my ass is in the air waiting for him to spank it.”
“Sassy,” he tossed at her and continued. “Jack doesn’t try to make every decision for you. He’s very protective, and he can be overbearing at times.”
“Not lately.” Her mouth turned down in a glum frown.
He ignored her. It wouldn’t help to talk about it. “But for the most part, he’s indulgent. That is not the way it is with Julian. Julian’s lovers fall into the slave category.”
Rather than shirking away in disgust, Abby leaned in closer. She was an adventuresome thing. “Really? So he keeps women around, and he makes all the decisions for them? He chooses their clothes? They have to ask for permission to speak?”
Sam nodded. He left out the part about the collars and absolute obedience Julian Lodge required from his slaves. “Yes, that’s about it. Though in all the time I’ve known him, he’s only kept a couple of subs with him at his home, and no one for more than a year. Still, he’s gone through a string of casual subs. How exactly do you know so much about slaves?”
“Well, Sam, you know I like to read.”
He laughed out loud. Abby liked to read, all right. Abby liked to read erotica. It was her substantial collection that had brought them together in the first place. “I forgot. You’re an expert.”
She rested her chin in her hand and sighed. “He’s going to The Club without us.”
“We don’t know that.” He was pretty sure that was exactly what Jack had done, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.
“Why else would he leave with nothing but a note?” Her eyes were downcast. “I think he’s tired of me.”
Sam leaned forward, catching her hand in his. His heart ached at the sorrow in her voice. “That’s not true, baby. He loves you.”
Her laugh was a hollow sound. “He doesn’t seem to want me the way he used to. I’ve got to face the fact that maybe Jack is one of those men who loves the chase more than anything else. Now that I’ve been caught, someone else will be more interesting to him.”
“No,” he said fervently. “I’ve known Jack Barnes my entire adult life. He’s never loved anyone the way he loves you. He would never have married you if he didn’t know he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. Something’s wrong. We need to find out what it is. When he comes back, we need to confront him. We need to sit down as a family and figure out what’s wrong.”
Abby thought for a long moment. “I don’t know if talking about it will work. He doesn’t want to talk. I’ve tried. You’ve tried. I don’t know how he would handle it if we put together something with a therapist. I can’t go on like this. I need to know if it’s time for me to walk away.”
“Don’t even talk like that.” He was shocked that she would suggest it. He couldn’t imagine his world without Abby in it. He also couldn’t imagine a world where he would have to choose between them.
“I hope that’s not the reason he’s been distant, but I fear that he wouldn’t tell me even if it was,” she said with grim resolve. “Sometimes a patient needs a shock to the system to get him going again.”
“Shock to the system?” He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.
“I’m only saying that Jack thinks everything is fine and that he can handle whatever is going on in that head of his alone. Part of the reason he thinks that is we’ve done everything we could to make him comfortable. Maybe it’s time to make him uncomfortable.”
“How do we do that? It’s kind of impossible to make him anything if he won’t talk to us.”
“I think we should go to Dallas.” Abby sat up straighter than she had before. “You still have a membership to that club, don’t you?”
There was a mixture of horror and excitement flowing through his veins at the thought of what she was saying. It was ninety-nine percent horror, though. He could imagine what Jack would do if they showed up at The Club without his permission. This was a very, very bad idea. “I don’t think going to The Club without Jack is a sound plan, baby. The Club is hardcore. It’s not a place for normal women.”
Her big hazel eyes rolled, and she did that cute little snort she used when he was acting like a dumbass. He thought she used it an awful lot. “Yes, I’m so normal. I’m married to two men. I think I can handle The Club.”
He wasn’t so sure. Her only experience with the world of kink was through romance novels and two men who loved her enough to marry her. Sam knew that the men who inhabited The Club would eat up a sweet submissive like Abigail. She would be the softest thing any of them had seen, and he worried that without Jack, she would be unprotected. He doubted he could convincingly play the Dom. Sam was honest enough with himself to admit he was every bit as submissive as Abby, maybe more so.
He tried for logic. “Besides, we don’t know for sure that Jack went to Dallas. He could be anywhere. We could go up there and be all on our own.”
“Then we’ll view it as a vacation.” Abby picked up her fork again. She smiled, and it melted something in Sam. She seemed more animated than she had in weeks. “We never got our honeymoon and the farthest either one of us has been from the ranch in months is Tyler. If Jack isn’t there and he’s off doing some sort of ranch work, then we simply indulge in a big-city vacation. Jack’s always telling me how I should enjoy my posit
ion as the wife of a wealthy man.”
“I think he meant you should do more in the community,” Sam pointed out. “He was talking about taking on charity work. You know you’ve been discussing opening a clinic for a while now.”
“And I firmly intend to do that. If I’m still in a position to do so. In the meantime, I’m going to apply a very liberal meaning to Jack’s words. I’m going to Dallas, and I’m going shopping. Come on, Sam. I know what you want. You’ve always wanted a motorcycle. Let’s get a big, gorgeous hog and drive to Dallas. We’ll get a room at The Club, preferably a suite, and tear up Neiman Marcus with Jack’s credit cards.”
Sam’s jaw dropped. “You know Jack won’t let me buy a bike. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been trying to convince him to let me get a motorcycle? He always tells me I’ll kill myself on it, and he won’t allow it. Besides, I don’t want a Harley, baby. I want one of those ninja bikes like Tom Cruise rides in Mission Impossible. It’s called a Ducati.”
“Well, as far as I can see, he’s not been in the mood to allow or disallow anything lately,” Abby said simply. “You know what they say. When the Dom’s away, the subs will play. What do you say we play, Sam?”
He sat back and thought for a moment. Since he’d been fifteen years old, his whole life had revolved around Jack Barnes. He’d never seriously thought about disobeying his friend. Jack always knew what was best, and he always looked out for Sam. In return, Sam did what Jack told him to do.
But Jack didn’t know what was best now. Jack was floundering, and he doubted that an intervention would help. Maybe Abby was right. Maybe the only thing that would get through to Jack was a shock to his system. Jack believed in a well-run house. In Jack’s mind, a well-run house had one leader—him. What would happen if they questioned that right of his?
Especially since lately he hadn’t been leading at all.
Sam pulled out his cell phone and called information. In the end it was easy. While Jack had all the ambition and power in the relationship, he’d given Sam half the money. Money, Sam rapidly discovered, was power all on its own. Twenty minutes later, he hung up with a smile on his face.
“They’re going to deliver the Ducati out at the house. Can you imagine? They’re going to bring it to us,” he said with a little thrill.
Abby’s smile was perfectly Cheshire Cat-like. “Yes, Sam, that’s what happens when you pay forty-thousand dollars in cash to a salesperson who lives off of commission. He’d probably kiss your feet if you asked him to.”
He could picture himself on the back of that sleek bike. Abby would be behind him with her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. He envisioned himself driving up to The Club with her and tossing the keys to the valet before leading his lady in. Yeah, he could do this.
He then envisioned Jack taking him apart piece by piece for allowing their wife on a motorcycle.
“Don’t.” Abby snapped her fingers and pulled him out of it. “It’s going to be fine. We’ll have fun, just the two of us. The truth is I don’t know if he’ll care that we’re gone at all.”
“He might kill me.” He picked up the burger again. If he was going to die, then it would be on a full stomach. It tasted better this time. Perhaps it was the idea of doing something rather than sitting back and waiting that made everything seem better.
She shrugged. “Then we’ll know he still cares.”
He was going to worry about Jack’s revenge later. For now, he would concentrate on the positive. He had Abby to himself, and he was taking her on a road trip. Where it would lead them, he couldn’t tell. He knew that with Abby, at least he would enjoy the ride.
* * * *
Four hours later, Sam watched as Abby strapped on her helmet. Sam stood quietly looking at his unbelievably cool new bike as Abby got prepared for the trip. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and she wore the leather jacket he’d ordered her to wear. He wasn’t letting her on a bike without her skin being protected. She was dressed in a leather jacket, T-shirt, heavy denim jeans, gloves, and motorcycle boots.
It was a good thing he wasn’t the world’s most obedient sub. Though Jack had told him he couldn’t buy a motorcycle, Sam rode them as often as he possibly could. He had friends who let him practice on theirs, teaching him the ins and outs of how to handle a bike.
“I feel like a biker mama.” She grinned as she settled on the back of the motorcycle. She looked hot sitting on the back of his brand-new Ducati Panigale V4 Speciale. She was so cute, he could eat her up. He leaned over and kissed her, slipping her a bit of tongue before breaking off and sliding in front of her.
He smiled as she leaned against him. Why he hadn’t done this a long time ago, he had no idea. He could feel her pressed against his backside. He might never get in his car again.
He started the engine, satisfied with the way it purred to life.
“You ready?”
Abby wrapped her arms around his waist in response.
He took off, and they left the ranch behind them.
Chapter Three
Jack was shown to the austere waiting room outside Julian’s office by a lovely young woman in her twenties. She kept her head down and her eyes averted, and he realized she probably spent a lot of time in the club downstairs. His eyes briefly skimmed her body. She was dressed conservatively, as Julian would have anyone working in the business end do. She wore a skirt, silk shirt, and a jacket. The only thing that marked her as anything other than an office drone was her shoes. They were a scarlet red, the heels at least five inches of pure stiletto. He had no idea how she managed to walk in them, but he admitted those shoes were hot. They would look nice on his Abby. On the blonde, he was merely able to appreciate them on an aesthetic level. The girl was pretty and obviously submissive. She probably never talked back or disobeyed. Julian wouldn’t have it.
He took a seat in one of the antique chairs Julian insisted gave the office an elegant feel. They always made him feel like a hulking beast perched on something fragile. He sighed, stretched, then pulled out his phone. There was one message, and he bet it was a doozy. He could almost hear Abigail tearing him a new asshole for leaving that note. He smiled at the thought of her face flushed with anger. Her whole face went red when she got really mad, and her eyes flashed fire. She was pretty when she was pissed. She could spout some seriously filthy language, too. When she got going, she could rack up the punishment time. He could give her five every time she cursed. That gorgeous ass of hers would get a lovely shade of pink. He frowned and tried to think of something else.
“Sir?”
He glanced up, surprised to see the secretary still there. He’d forgotten about her completely. His mind had been on his wife.
“Yes?” He found himself slightly annoyed. He didn’t want to be here in the first place, wanted to deal with Julian’s subs even less. There were always at least two, one male and one female. Julian believed in variety.
She sank to her knees, placing her slender body in between his legs. Her hands went to his denim-clad thighs, her perfectly manicured nails sinking in slightly. “Mr. Lodge told me to see to your every need, Mr. Barnes. Might I offer you the comfort of my mouth? Or would you prefer something else?”
“I would prefer it if you took your hands off me.” Even he could feel the room’s temperature drop by several degrees. He made no move to remove the offending hands. He didn’t need to do anything physical to put a sub in her place. “I didn’t ask you to put your hands on me, nor do I want your attentions. Do we understand each other?”
Her hands dropped to her thighs, palms up. She looked straight down. “Yes, Sir. I was—”
“Nor did I ask for an explanation.” He didn’t need one. She was only following orders. She didn’t have to spell it out. He also knew that a soft explanation wouldn’t work on her. “Move back, sub. You’re invading my space, and I do not like it.”
The blonde sub quickly moved back, though she found her position again. She remained still and silent.
“You are dismissed.” He wanted to be left alone. This was why he hadn’t come back in a while. He’d known exactly what he’d be offered the minute he walked into The Club again. Sex. Submission. Drama. So much damn drama.
The blonde’s head came up. Her mouth opened and closed as though she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite make it happen.
The door to the office opened. Julian took in the scene in front of him and shook his head. “He said you were dismissed, Sally. Are you so improperly trained that you don’t obey a direct order?”
“No, Master Julian.” She gracefully got to her feet and was back at her desk in a moment.
Jack stood up quickly. “And what was that scene about?”
He knew he should give the man who had mentored him some leeway, but he was feeling restless. That anger he held inside him was looking for an outlet, and Julian was a big boy. He could handle it.
Julian Lodge cocked a single aristocratic eyebrow. Jack could tell a lot about Julian’s mood from that one brow. Julian could say the same thing in exactly the same voice, but it held a different meaning when that dark brow was climbing off his face. “Am I not allowed to be hospitable, Jackson?”
He was annoyed. Well, good for Julian because Jack was annoyed, too. “I’m a married man. I doubt my wife would appreciate that scene you tried to play out.”
Julian shrugged in his custom-made Italian suit. If he followed the habits he’d had while Jack worked for him, Julian went to Milan once a year for a new crop of the slick suits. “As I have yet to be introduced to this paragon of virtue, I have no idea what she would find offensive and what would be acceptable to her. Would you care to join me in my office? Our guest will be here soon.”
It was posed as a question, but there was no way to mistake the inherent command behind it. He nodded shortly and followed his former mentor. The door closed behind him. It had been years since he’d been called into Julian’s office. He remembered the last time he was here. He had been informing Julian of his decision to quit. He was buying his ranch. He was taking Sam with him.
