Siren Unleashed [Texas Sirens 7] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Sophie Oak

  If they really wanted her.

  Chase looked down at her, his eyebrow arching. “Seriously? You have more than one piercing?”

  “I went through a phase. I didn’t do the tattoo thing so I pierced a couple of places.” And no one had ever actually played with it before Ben. She’d had the tongue piercing before the incident. She’d pierced her hood after Kitten dared her.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t notice it when you got her naked. I guess you got stuck on her tits. I didn’t get a really good look at those, but I definitely saw the other.” Ben winked at her. “That little gem I saw wasn’t on her nipples, but we can schedule those. I know a master body modifier in Dallas.”

  “Holy shit, Nat. You pierced your clit?” Chase nearly shouted the question. “I’m getting fucking old. My eyes should have gone directly there, but I did get stuck on your tits, baby. They’re so pretty.”

  She was still stuck in Ben’s arms. They tightened around her so she just gave up and laughed.

  “Are you going to let them talk about her that way?” Tate asked Cal, his voice tight with anger.

  Cal was smiling at her. “I don’t think Nat is having a problem with it. Nat, you know you’re kind of accepting them, right?”

  Nat needed to make one thing plain before she made a single decision. “Them? I thought Chase wasn’t sharing.”

  “Chase rethought his position,” Ben replied. His eyes turned up toward Tate, darkening in an instant. “So tell whoever has a problem with our sub, that they’ll have two Doms to deal with.”

  And just like that she froze.

  They would want that. They would need it. Submissive. Slave. They could allow her a bit of power, but in the end they would need dominance, and she couldn’t give it. Not for the long term.

  “Natalie?” Ben’s voice went serious.

  “Please let me down. I need to see my apartment.” She should concentrate on the future. The future wasn’t going to include two hot überDoms. She would brutally disappoint them in the end because she couldn’t submit again.

  Ben set her on her feet, his sadness visible.

  Tate, on the other hand, looked deeply satisfied.

  She turned and walked toward her place without saying another word.

  Chapter Ten

  Ben turned, looking at Natalie who sat beside him and wished he could take back the last three hours. There had been a great moment when Nat had laughed and completely accepted them and then she’d shut down. She hadn’t laughed or smiled since he’d set her on her feet.

  He’d been trying to figure out what he’d done. Because it had been him. Chase hadn’t said a damn thing. Ben had been the one talking when her body had gone stiff and the day had gone to shit.

  “What do you know about Juliet Kirkman?” Chase might not have been talking then, but he was controlling the conversation now.

  Nat looked up from studying the menu. She hadn’t been happy about being forced to come into town, but they didn’t want to leave her behind. Not when she’d proven she could easily get away from Logan. Ben had been the one to sit with her while Chase had interviewed employees from the spa. He’d sat there while rerunning background checks, watching her while she pretended to flip through a magazine. “I know she married Stan about ten years ago, and she’s been spitting out kids ever since.”

  Chase chuckled, but the last damn thing Ben needed was two Chases to deal with. If this was going to work, he needed to be able to take her places without others wanting to kill her. He frowned Nat’s way. Why was he always playing the bad guy with her? “That’s a bit rude.”

  She flushed. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Honestly, I’ve met the oldest two and they’re actually really sweet kids. Juliet is a pain in my ass. Everyone’s really. She seems to think that a massage therapist is really just a whore with a fancy name. She told me I slept with all my clients.”

  Chase’s brow furrowed, a sure sign he was getting pissed. “She said that to you?”

  Nat shrugged. “She told the paper. I didn’t really know about it because I don’t read the Willow Fork Gazette, but one of the maids brought it into the locker room. Juliet wrote an editorial about how the spa was going to kill traditional marriage and we would all end up married to gays. I don’t think she understands much about the lifestyle. Or what gay marriage means. She literally thinks she’ll be forced to give up her husband and marry a lesbian. I think she might have been talking about Jack Barnes and Sam Fleetwood. She called her future wife her lesbian overlord. But she managed to mention me specifically. I’m a whore who’s attempting to lure all humans with muscular pain into my web. The muscular pain comes from Satan. And so do I, according to Juliet.”

  “So she’s a scholar,” Chase mused. He looked up and smiled as his quarry walked out of the kitchens, an apron over her jeans and tight white T-shirt. Christa Wade looked damn good for a woman approaching fifty. She was Abigail Barnes’s best friend, and she owned the café they currently occupied.

  She was also the epicenter of gossip in Willow Fork. It had been Chase’s idea to casually interview her. It was Ben’s job to make sure Christa Wade didn’t kill Chase because sometimes his version of casual was just plain rude.

  “Hello, welcome to Christa’s Café. You’re Natalie, right? You work out at the spa?” Christa smiled down at Nat. There was nothing in her demeanor that made Ben worry, but the rest of the café he wasn’t so sure about. The minute they had walked in, murmurs started and several of the patrons had openly stared at Nat. Ben had made sure to take the booth in the back and to sit Nat where she couldn’t see that she was the center of attention. But she hadn’t let him herd her against the wall. She’d waited stubbornly until Ben had scooted in.

  Nat flushed. “Yeah. I work out there.”

  Christa’s smile widened. “Well, I knew it by the hair. You’re the only one in these parts with pink hair. I think it’s cute. You look like Katy Perry. I just love her. I thought about going blue, but my hairdresser shut that right down. Apparently eclectic hair colors are one of the signs of the apocalypse. Like that bright yellow she has on her head is natural looking. I don’t think so.” She stopped herself, her voice slowing down. “I was actually going to call you sometime next week. I have a horrible pain in my lower back. Abby says you’ve really helped Jack out. That man can be a real bear when he’s in pain. Apparently he twisted a couple of vertebrae trying to get Olivia out of a tree. She was rebelling against carrots. She doesn’t like carrots. Sorry. I tend to ramble.”

  Ben was counting on her rambling. He needed some information the sheriff didn’t seem capable of giving them. “I’m sure Natalie would love another client.”

  “Uhm, I think I’m on leave or something since the last dude died,” Nat whispered his way.

  And then Christa just pulled up a chair and sat down, her eyes wide. Ben caught Chase’s self-satisfied smile. He hadn’t been forced to say a word, and the woman didn’t realize she was being interrogated.

  “I heard about Stan. I always knew he would come to a bad end.” Her voice was just above a whisper.

  “Why a bad end?” Ben asked. It was his job to be the innocent tourist, interested in a little gossip.

  Christa took the time to look around. She seemed satisfied no one could hear her. “Well, you know there are rumors about old Stan.”

  Ah, rumors. The lifeblood of the private investigator. “No. What kind of rumors?”

  Even Nat seemed interested now. She put her menu down and turned toward Christa. “Are you talking about the rumor that he jacks up the prices of his sofas or the one where he’s actually selling stolen goods? Because I’ve heard both.”

  So she listened to gossip. She didn’t just sit in her sad little apartment. She was still somewhat interested in what went on around her.

  Christa shook her head. “No, hon. Stan put out the rumor about the stolen goods himself. He thought that if people around here believed they were really buying cheap, fell-off-a-truck desig
ner furniture, then they would come in droves. No. His stuff came from just over the border, and let me tell you, he did charge too much for it. I bought a dining room set from him. It lasted two days before it started to wobble. How can a table be perfectly stable one day and then slightly wobbly the next? I don’t understand it. Now it takes two and a half People magazines to get it level.”

  Chase growled a little, a sure sign that he was going to take over in a minute and then the whole interview thing would go straight to hell. Chase didn’t do bad cop. He was more like evil cop.

  Christa looked at Chase, her brows rising. “Is there something wrong with him?”

  Nat took a sip of her water. “I think that’s how he communicates.”

  Eyes narrowed, Chase leaned toward Natalie. “I’ll show you how I communicate later, sweetness. Your backside will appreciate my version of Morse code. Benjamin?”

  Yep. That was code for get this moving or the big bad wolf would take over. “So what are the rumors about Mr. Kirkman?”

  Christa leaned back. “You’re from Julian Lodge, aren’t you?”

  Well, she wasn’t a dummy. “Yes, ma’am. Julian prefers to investigate these things on his own rather than relying on local law enforcement entirely. We’re not trying to take over, simply enhance what I’m sure will be a thorough investigation of the matter.”

  A booming laugh filled the café. “Well, aren’t you the politic one?” She turned to Chase. “I bet you aren’t. Tell me what you think of our sheriff, handsome.”

  Chase didn’t hesitate. “I think he’s a lazy motherfucker who couldn’t find that enormous hat of his even if I shoved it straight up his ass.”

  Christa smiled at Nat. “I like him. You should keep him, hon. Wait. Is this one of those crazy threesome things? It happens more often than you would think.”

  “Ms. Wade,” Ben said, desperate to get this whole thing back on track. “The rumors?”

  She flushed just a bit, and Ben knew this was going to be good. Maybe not true, but damn good. “You know how the spa has certain levels? Like anyone can go to the lobby or the restaurant but you can’t get to level three without the right credentials?”

  Level three was the dungeon and the playroom. A guest had to have the right access codes to get in. They had to be vetted carefully before Julian allowed them a membership to his club. “I understand what you’re saying.”

  “Well, there are some locals who tried to get in at the resort and couldn’t, so the rumor is they started their own club.”

  Now that was very interesting. He’d heard Chris Linwood had vetted some potential members from the community and turned down almost every single one for one reason or another. Most because they offended Julian’s sensibilities. “There’s a private dungeon in Willow Fork?”

  Christa nodded. “A couple, really. Jack and Abby and Sam have a whole guesthouse with the craziest stuff in it, but they are very, very private. This isn’t so private from what I hear. They don’t just let anyone in, but there’s a whole bunch of them. I don’t know if it’s the whips and chains stuff, but I think there’s a lot of swinging going on, if you know what I mean.”

  Chase huffed, his nose turning up slightly. Ben nodded. They were on the same page. They didn’t swing unless it involved putting a sweet little sub in suspension for some play. They were both far, far too possessive to share their subs, and Chase was deeply picky. “No, we wouldn’t consider those types for club membership. The Club and its subsidiaries tend to encourage relationships between Doms and subs.”

  “Well, I don’t think they’re real interested in relationships at this place,” Christa replied. “And it’s maybe not the cleanest place. I heard from Genna Sue who works for Doc Bob that they’ve had three cases of the Hep in the last year.”

  Hepatitis. Easily caught from unprotected sex or needles. And Stan, it seemed, had been into both. Ben would really like to get an invite to that little club. “Do you have any idea where this not-so-private club might be found?”

  “Out on the interstate, a couple miles past the old Haverford place. But I don’t know exactly what place they’re at. There’s a whole bunch of trailers and buildings out there that no one uses anymore. That’s unincorporated territory, so naturally that’s where the bars are and the triple-X stores, if you know what I mean.”

  Oh, yes, Ben knew what she meant. He bet the sheriff never got out that far. It would be a strain on his system to drive out there. Ben cast a look at his brother who seemed to be lost in thought himself.

  If Stan was into underground sex clubs and drugs, then Nat might be in deeper than they thought. He couldn’t see Nat being involved in either, but someone wanted to drag her down. The question was, who?

  Those drugs had been planted. Even the sad-sack sheriff’s office had done its job and dusted for prints. There had been absolutely nothing on the small bag of pure China White heroin. Nat’s prints had been everywhere else along with the other two techs, but the needle that stuck out of Stan’s back and the drug paraphernalia had been mysteriously wiped clean. It was the only reason Nat wasn’t in jail on drug charges. The sheriff couldn’t prove she was the owner of the drugs.

  The bell over the door to the café chimed, and Ben heard a restless murmur go through the crowd.

  Christa turned, her face flushing. “Damnation. Sweetheart, maybe you should head out the back.”

  Ben turned from his place beside Nat and saw a petite woman dressed in a perfectly pressed business suit. She was polished from head to toe, not a thread of her platinum-blonde hair out of place, but her eyes were red and there was a distinct downturn to her artfully painted mouth.

  “Christa Wade? Since when did you start serving whores in this café?”

  Fuck a duck. Stan’s wife. No doubt about it. Nat had gone pale, her fair skin turning a chalky white. It was obvious she was scared, but she didn’t reach for him or Chase. She simply sat there, her eyes staring down at the water in front of her, her hands in her lap.

  Christa stood. “Don’t you start with that kind of mouth in my house, Juliet. I understand you’ve had a shock, but I won’t put up with it.”

  “This place has always been where the trash of the town comes, anyway.” Juliet stalked across the floor, her heels clacking. It was easy to hear her move because there wasn’t another sound in the entire place. Everyone had stopped, not a single person moving a muscle.

  “Sweetness, I think it’s probably time we left,” Chase said, his voice a laconic roll. “I think I’ve lost my appetite anyway.”

  Nat nodded and started to scoot out of the booth.

  Before anyone could move, Juliet bolted across the diner toward Nat. Before Ben could pull her back, Juliet’s hand flashed out, the smack across Nat’s cheek ringing through the café.

  “You fucking whore. You got him into that shit. You think I don’t know what goes on there? You think I don’t know about that disgusting club? You ruined him, you piece of filth.”

  Nat shrank back, Ben finally able to get her in his arms, but he didn’t have much of a place to go. He put his arms around her, ready to block whatever the insane chick decided to throw next.

  Chase stood, his six-foot-four-inch frame seeming larger as he stood over the petite blonde, and Ben prayed he didn’t actually kill the bitch.

  “Chase,” a deep voice called out. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t get yourself thrown in jail.”

  The whole café seemed to stop at the sound of Jack Barnes’s voice. He stood in the doorway, all six foot four inches of pure muscle blocking out the sun. A well-worn Stetson sat atop his dark hair, and there was a toddler version of himself clinging to his side. Ben searched his mind. Josh. The kid had a hand on his dad’s jeans, but his eyes stared out of his small face, dark like his father’s.

  “Why is that lady hurting my Nat?” Josh asked.

  Nat sniffled a little, wiping her eyes as she shoved herself out of the booth. “I’m fine, sweetie. Don’t you worry about me.�
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  Ben followed Nat out because he didn’t give a flying fuck if that woman had just lost her husband. Juliet didn’t get to lay a hand on his sub. He knew he shouldn’t think of her that way. It was too soon, but he couldn’t help it. She was theirs, and they wouldn’t let anyone lay a hand on her. Nat raced around the petite blonde, and Josh let go of his father and actually put his little body between her and Juliet Kirkman.

  Yeah, that was Jack Barnes’s kid.

  “You okay, Nat?” Barnes asked, his voice low.

  She nodded, her hand reaching for Josh’s. “I’m just fine. It was an accident.”

  “It wasn’t an accident,” Chase said. His eyes didn’t leave the blonde, and she’d started to get the idea that this was serious.

  Juliet’s shoulders squared. “I’m not going to apologize to that piece of…”

  “You finish that sentence in front of my son and we’re going to have a serious problem, Mrs. Kirkman,” Jack Barnes swore. “You watch what comes out of that mouth in front of children.”

  Juliet turned, her face beet red. “You’re a good one to talk about children, Jack Barnes. You flaunt your perversions in front of everyone. You think you’re such a big man, but you’re going to hell. You just think you can take the rest of us with you, and I won’t allow it. I’ll take you down if it’s the last thing I do.”

  The little bell over the café door jingled as she stomped out.

  Josh looked back at his dad. “Daddy, I don’t like that girl. She’s mean. We should take Nat home with us.”

  Barnes ruffled his kid’s hair. “I think you might be right, buddy, but we’ll have to take those two with us, too. Christa, could you get my to-go order ready? I think we need to take this conversation out to the ranch.”

  Nat picked up Josh, letting him hug her. She looked sweet and frail and deeply maternal, the last bit pulling at Ben’s heart, an odd longing taking over.

  Chase stared at the door, his voice going low. “Did you notice her shoes?”