The Song Bird (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

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The Song Bird (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 6

by Beth D. Carter


  “I’m not…Never mind.” She took a deep breath. “My name is Avilon Chambert. Thank you so much for seeing me on short notice. I’ve traveled to San Francisco looking for my younger sister, Amelia.”

  “Of course, Sister Avilon,” Sheriff Scannell said. His tone was consoling, and he gestured to the empty chair in front of the desk. “Please, have a seat and tell me a little about your sister.”

  Avilon sat, perching on the edge of her chair as she placed her valise beside her on the floor. She hadn’t realized how much it would mean to her to have a person of authority listen, but a weight she didn’t know she carried suddenly lifted a little.

  “All right. Let’s see, I had just returned to New Orleans and received a letter from Amelia stating she had been living in San Francisco for about a year—”

  “Was she with the sisters as well?” Marshal Richardson asked.

  Avilon shot him a surprised look. “Pardon?”

  “I was just wondering what she was doing here in the city.”

  “She was working for Mr. Eli Masters.” She saw the two men share a look.

  Sheriff Scannell cleared his throat. “In what capacity?”

  And suddenly, Avilon’s sense of relief vanished. The muscles of her shoulders tensed, and she gripped the folds of her skirt tightly. “She worked as one of his upstairs girls.”

  Sheriff Scannell closed the ledger in front of him with a snap. Avilon flinched.

  “So your sister was a…working girl,” Marshal Richardson stated.

  “My sister is in a difficult position in her life,” Avilon stated, acid dripping from each word. “Missing, perhaps hurt.”

  “Perhaps all you can do now is pray for the Almighty to forgive her soul,” Marshal Richardson said sarcastically.

  Avilon frowned at him. “I came here to see if there were any unclaimed bodies matching her description in the past six months. Brown hair, brown eyes. She has a red birthmark on her right shoulder.”

  It seemed to take an eternity before he shook his head. “I can assure you, Sister Avilon, I’ve had no deceased women matching her description.”

  Avilon felt a band around her heart ease. “Then I’d like to declare her missing.”

  “Missing? She’s a whore.”

  Rage flooded her. “Don’t call her that!”

  “But it’s true, Sister Avilon,” Marshal Richardson stated. “San Francisco has become a city flooded with all walks of life. Five years ago, the population was a thousand. Now we’re pushing forty thousand, where men outnumber women a hundred to one.”

  “What does that have to do with my missing sister?”

  The marshal set down his drink and walked to stand behind the desk, near the still-seated Sheriff Scannell. She looked back and forth between them and saw the stigma of her sister’s profession blanketing their faces.

  “Whores are…a necessary evil, Sister Avilon,” the sheriff said. “We’re working hard to put an end to that way of life here in San Francisco, but truth is, women of that ilk come and go all the time.”

  Though Eli had said the same thing to her, it stung a bit more ferociously coming from someone who was supposed to serve and protect the public. She stood and grabbed her valise.

  “Remember the Gospel according to Matthew, judge not that ye be not judged, and what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you. I’m sorry to have wasted your time,” she said. “Good day.”

  “Wait, Sister,” Sheriff Scannell called out.

  Avilon paused, but she didn’t turn back.

  “If a woman turns up matching her description, I’ll make sure to let you know. I assume I can reach you through the Sisters of the Sacred Heart?”

  Avilon swallowed back her bitterness. “Yes. The message will get to me.”

  With that, she opened the door and walked out.

  * * * *

  When she returned to the club, the fiery anger that had ignited at the sheriff’s office had cooled, giving way to practical logic. It had been a wise decision to talk to the sheriff, because now she understood that she was the only help her sister would get. The few clues she had managed to acquire thus far pulled toward a grim outlook for Amelia, though it was hard to make sense of them. She really needed to get Homer to open up. But since Homer was still a closed book…for now…she turned her mind to her other dilemma: Eli Masters and Jason Braddock, two of the most exasperating yet handsome men she’d ever met. She had thought appealing to their sense of morals would be enough to entice them into opening up about Amelia, but so far, all she’d gotten was nowhere. It was time to try a different tactic.

  She walked into her dressing room and went to the armoire. She opened it, found the purple satin dress, and pulled it out. From her valise she pulled out her sewing kit and sat down, determined to make something out of the dress.

  Sometime later, a knock sounded on her door. She set aside the dress, the needle, and thread, and stood and stretched, easing the knot between her shoulder blades. When she opened her door, Jason smiled at her.

  “Morning, love.”

  “You shouldn’t call me that.”

  “It’s an endearment, and you are endearing.”

  She wanted to smile but managed to keep her lips straight. “You hardly know me.”

  “I’d like to get to know you better. May I come in?”

  She turned from the door, leaving it open in invitation, and he followed, closing the door with a soft click. Instantly, her heart jumped into her throat.

  “Are you fixing a dress?”

  She sighed. “Trying is the correct word. I’m not much of a sewer, and this isn’t much of a dress.”

  He chuckled. “I’m sure whatever you can accomplish will be fine. I came by to see how you’re doing after last night.”

  “From the singing or the attack of Mr. Behr?”

  “Mainly the second, but we’ll start with the first.”

  “The singing was…amazing. I felt like I was soaring. But then I crashed when Mr. Behr grabbed my arm. I’ve been replaying his words in my head, and I’m still confused by what he said.”

  She saw his mouth tighten fractionally.

  “You know, don’t you?” she asked.

  He gave a small nod. “Eugene Behr was the client.”

  “Wait a minute,” she said, holding up her hands. “Eugene Behr was the man who accused the upstairs girls of cheating him? Who was his, er, lady that night?”

  Jason shook his head. “The girls work the crowd downstairs by pushing more drinks, edging the men to bid higher. They find their johns among the men, and that night, almost all the girls had approached him at one point or another.”

  “So then anyone could have stolen…By the way, what was taken?”

  “A coin.”

  “One coin? My sister disappeared over one coin? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  Jason walked to her. All thoughts of her sister and Eugene Behr faded when he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her into his body. She threw up her hands, pressing her palms against his chest. Immediately, the world melted away as excitement poured through her system like a tidal wave.

  “You know what doesn’t make sense?” he murmured into her ear. “Why is it that I’ve just met you, but I think about you every minute of the day? I walk away from you, and all I want to do is run back to hold you.”

  “Please don’t,” she whispered. “I can’t think when you hold me like this.”

  “Then don’t think.” She felt him bend his head and place a kiss on her neck.

  She shook her head. “I…I kissed Mr. Masters.”

  He paused and pulled back to look at her. “I’m not surprised,” he said ruefully.

  “That I kissed him?”

  “No, that he wants you. Do you want him, too, Avilon?”

  She met his gaze and couldn’t look away. She had expected derision, or perhaps mockery, yet what she saw in his bright green eyes was acceptance. Maybe even relief.

  “I don’
t understand myself anymore,” she told him quietly. “I’ve behaved shamelessly, first with you and then with him.”

  “There’s nothing shameful about wanting someone,” he told her. “Or, in our case, about wanting two men. Eli can do things for you, to you, that I can’t. And vice versa.”

  That intrigued her. She hadn’t actually thought of it like that. “Like what?”

  He smiled at her, a wicked slash of his lips. “Eli likes being dominant in the bedroom,” he replied, his voice dropping to an intimate caress. “He’ll bring you to pleasures you’ve never even dreamed about. Perhaps he’ll tie your arms and bend you over as his cock takes your pussy. Maybe he would tell you to get on your hands and knees and order you to give him a blow job.”

  Avilon felt heat engulf her face as words failed her. She swallowed, trying to push down the large lump that had formed in her throat.

  “Are you shocked, love?”

  She nodded. “I…ah…I’ve never heard those words before,” she finally managed to whisper.

  “Do you know what they mean?”

  “No. At least, not all of them.”

  He took her hand. Slowly, he maneuvered it down his body, to his groin, where she felt him, hard and heavy, straining against his pants.

  “This is a cock,” he explained. “And this cock wants very much to bury itself inside your pussy.”

  She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “And…that last word?”

  “A blow job is when you take a cock into your mouth and suck it like a piece of candy until it melts.”

  “Oh,” she replied, her voice breathless.

  Jason raised his hand to cup the back of her neck, pulled her firmly against his body, and took her mouth with his. His firm lips teased hers apart until his tongue swept in to dance with hers. Avilon breathed in his scent, an intoxicating blend of male and raw sexuality, and raised her arms to encircle his neck. He shifted his foot forward and inserted his leg between hers. Through her skirts she felt the hard ridge of his cock and, before she could even think about what she was doing, parted her own legs and brought him flush to the area where she needed him the most.

  One of his hands cupped her breast and squeezed lightly, flicking over the area where her nipple had hardened. She half wondered if he could feel the nub through her clothes.

  “Mmm,” she gasped.

  It took only a moment for him to flip her skirts up and ease his calloused fingers up her inner thigh, sliding over her sensitive skin with featherlight teasing. When he touched her curls surrounding the spot that pulsed for him the most, she was surprised that his hand didn’t get singed from the heat.

  “And this,” he murmured against her ear, “is your pussy. Your delicious, wet pussy.” She meant to close her legs, but he shook his head. “No, let me. Please. Trust me, Avilon.”

  Slowly, she relaxed. His finger dipped inside her curls, teasing before it found a rhythm that quickly escalated the fire in her blood.

  “Feel this?” he asked as he flicked over the bud that throbbed with need. “This is your clit, and all I want to do is draw it into my mouth and suck on it until your cream flows into my mouth.”

  The words enflamed her, the mental picture so stimulating that her body almost convulsed. Then he slipped another finger inside her as his palm applied just enough pressure to make her writhe. In and out he pumped with his hand, her hips mimicking as she gasped.

  “Let go, love,” he whispered, and she felt his lips brushing over her cheek, her eyelids, her forehead. “You’re so much tighter than I imagined. I can just picture you clenching around my cock as you ride me.”

  In and out his fingers pumped as he managed to rub her clit at the same time. Seconds later, her body tensed as waves of energy rolled over her, making her light headed. Stars exploded as every nerve ending blazed. Avilon was helpless to do anything but ride it out, humping his hand, which still tantalized her pussy.

  Every bone in her body liquefied. She would have melted onto the floor if Jason hadn’t been holding her up. Contentment filled her, and all she wanted to do was purr. When he finally withdrew his hand, she didn’t want him to leave, so she wrapped her arms around him. She felt his erection and gasped. She pulled back to stare at him with wide eyes.

  “Jason? Does that…hurt?”

  He gave a long-suffering little moan. “Yes, actually. All the blood seems to have drained from my brain because the only thought I have is that I want to lay you on that bed and fuck you until we pass out.”

  She blinked, and he stepped back from her. Her hands fell from him to hang limply at her sides.

  “And as much as I want to obey those primitive instincts,” Jason muttered, “I don’t want to completely overwhelm you. So I will take myself from you right now, let you finish mending that dress and digest what happened.”

  When he got to the door, however, he turned back to her.

  “But this is your only saving grace.”

  And he closed the door behind her with a decisive click.

  Chapter Eight

  If Jason thought she’d be able to concentrate after that little scene, he was sadly mistaken. Her body refused to cooperate and settle. For the first time in her life, she yearned, and she finally figured out why women succumbed to men. She wanted his hands on her, wanted him to finish all those promising little things he was teasing her with.

  She gave up trying to sew and decided to have something to eat. Perhaps settling her rumbling stomach might settle the need blooming deep in her…well, her pussy. Heat bloomed across her face at the thought of the word and how she had learned it.

  The kitchen was active with people preparing the evening’s meals, but she smiled at one of the cooks and asked if she could have tea and biscuits to take upstairs. Balancing the heavy tea set, she navigated carefully up the stairs.

  But she almost dropped the whole ensemble she carried as she saw the bruise engulfing Annabel’s left side of her face, the majority of the swelling centered around her eye. The sleep mask had hid the horrendous blackening of the skin. Quickly, she set the delicate china on the dresser to hurry over to her friend.

  “Annabel! What happened?”

  “Fucking john decided to be a little rough with me,” she said angrily, though the words were a little garbled. “Face is okay, but he bruised my ribs. I’m gonna lose at least a week’s worth of money because of this.”

  “You won’t get paid for a week?”

  Annabel looked at her as if she was crazy. “No man wants to hump someone looking like this and can’t hardly move worth a damn.”

  “But you should still get paid,” Avilon argued. “From Mr. Masters.”

  Annabel gave a bitter little laugh. “You don’t get it, dearie. The only money we earn is what we make on our backs. The more johns we coax upstairs, the more we earn for him.”

  “But that’s not right.”

  “Yeah?” Annabel demanded, anger darkening her face. “Just how thick are you? Nobody cares about us. We’re whores, the lowest scum on the earth, hell, maybe even lower than the Chinese. I started spreading my legs when my father sold me for rent money when I was ten. And every day was a struggle until I was lucky enough to get hired here. I have a steady roof and steady food, but only if I make enough money every night to justify my keep. Do you get it now, Avilon?”

  Avilon felt tears gather in her eyes. First the attitude from the sheriff, and now this. It was almost more than she could bear.

  “Do you think upon yourself that way? That you’re nothing?”

  Annabel shrugged and ran a hand through her mussed hair. “Just get out of here. I’ve had enough of your holier-than-thou routine.”

  “What can I do to help you?”

  “I said get the fuck out of here! Are you deaf, too?”

  Avilon swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her head. “No. I just…Please, what can I do to help you?”

  “Come on, Avilon, a woman like you has no idea what it’s like
for someone who was born a nothing.”

  “Don’t! Don’t use your past as an excuse. My sister wasn’t born a nothing, and yet here I am, figuring out her life and what brought her to a club like this in San Francisco. Desperation leads to desperate circumstances, I get that, but never think of yourself as less than a person.”

  “Pretty words, dearie, but Eli Masters only cares about the money I can make him.”

  Avilon frowned, suddenly unsure. She had no idea who Eli Masters really was, let alone if he would sympathize with the pain and hurt Annabel had endured. His words played through her mind. They move around, head to different places, and they sure as hell don’t leave forwarding addresses. And she knew, right then, he had meant someone in his life. Someone had left him.

  Avilon smiled at Annabel. “It’ll be all right,” she told the blonde. “I’ll talk to Mr. Masters.”

  Annabel just raised an eyebrow as she walked to the dresser and picked up the teapot.

  Chapter Nine

  Avilon found Eli and Jason seated at one of the tables, and all the dealers encircled them as Eli talked. As she moved closer, she heard him explaining tricks people use to try to cheat the house. It sounded like a routine lecture, and she didn’t doubt the staff had to be constantly on guard.

  She stayed back, waiting patiently for a chance to talk to both men alone. Her gaze stayed on them, taking in how beautiful each man was in his own way. She felt gossamer threads pulling her, indelible bonds forming a path toward them, and it confused her. Where could these feelings possibly go? Could she eventually walk away when she found Amelia and forget Eli and Jason ever shared a part of her life? Already they tested parts of her resolve. Would that only deepen the longer she sang at the club?

  Finally, the men started to break up. Eli stood up, talking with Jason, and nodded to his workers as they moved to their tables. It was late afternoon, and the entire place was busy preparing to open. She took a deep breath and walked up to them.

 

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