Chozen: Gritty, fast-paced police suspense-drama where nothing is as it seems! (Headspace Book 1)

by J Paton

  “It’s warranted as you well know,” I pointed out, making him chuckle again.

  “Then let’s see if you can earn it and find this young man.” Phil leaned over his desk to drop a file in front of me. “This should be right up your street. Immanuel is a sub, and it seems the last thing he did before disappearing was complete an application to join Dom’s Haven.”

  “It’s not a place I’m familiar with.” I’d been a member of a BDSM club called The Playroom since it had opened about eight or nine years ago. Nathan and Carl, the co-owners of the club, ran a high-class establishment that ensured members followed the strict rules that had been set. Those rules meant I hadn’t needed to search out any other establishment when I had some downtime and was looking for a sub to play with.

  “I think when you’ve read what’s in that file, you’ll know why you’re not a member of this place.”

  A shiver of apprehension ran through me. I picked up the thick file and flipped through the first couple of pages that gave the details of the young man we were looking for. He had dark hair and doe eyes—a pretty-looking boy.

  The back of the file contained a large amount of information on Dom’s Haven. My brows rose as I skimmed the copy of the application form for a sub, and then the one for a Dom. My pulse skipped a beat, my instincts kicking in as I compared the two forms and pondered why they were so different.

  When I lifted my gaze to meet Phil’s, his expression was unreadable. I tapped the file. “My best guess is that there’s a filter system for the subs. The Dom’s application form is pretty standard, and should for all intents and purposes be worded the same for a sub.” I waved the piece of paper in my hand. “These are blatantly different. If you don’t have any experience in BSDM, you wouldn’t realise that this application form is a piece of crap.”

  I held up the sub form and laid it on the desk, Phil leaning forward to ask, “Talk me through why you said that.”

  “Hang on.” Phil had no experience of BDSM lifestyle that I was aware of. I tilted my hip to pull out my phone and tapped on the screen to do an internet search for The Playroom. I pulled up the application form before handing my phone to Phil. “This is the only form, The Playroom has.”

  His dark brows rose as he took it and started to read. I tapped my fingers on the desk which looked like something out of Star Trek. He had three monitors, all doing different things, and there were other pieces of electronics I didn’t even attempt to figure out. The man was a genius when it came to electronics and computers. When he’d approached me after we’d met through a mutual friend, his skills were the reason I’d agreed to work with him. I’d not long left the police force, having had enough of the pressure to achieve an outcome over proper investigative work. “Close cases” was the mantra, and I’d got sick of it.

  “Shit, this is completely different to Dom’s Haven, and you say The Playroom only has this one?”

  “Yep, there’s no need for two. Those applying, if new to the scene, might not have figured out what it is they’re into yet. That goes both ways, Dom and sub. The application for The Playroom is about highlighting interests and ensuring that those looking for a membership understand what the club has to offer.” I lifted the form again. “This clearly has another purpose. I’m not going to make any assumptions yet as to what they are, but it feels off to me. Why does someone need to know who your next of kin is? It’s irrelevant unless it’s for another reason.” Knots formed in my back at the thought of what it could be for.

  “Immanuel hasn’t been seen since he was accepted into that club. His family let me have his laptop. I’ve gone through it and pieced together a timeline of what he did prior to the fight and for the three days after it.”

  “What was the fight about? Do we suspect the family of anything?”

  “The father was a little shocked by his son announcing he was gay. It seems they didn’t have any clue to his sexual orientation before his big reveal. His father’s reaction wasn’t great, and Immanuel left, threatening not to come back. Hence why the police aren’t that interested after they let that little nugget of information out. Anyway, the family seem genuinely distressed. Either that or they have the skills of award-winning actors and actresses.”

  “It has been known.”

  “It has, but my gut is telling me they’re the real deal, that they’ve got nothing to do with their son’s disappearanceꟷ”

  “What, other than the father’s reaction to him being gay?”

  “Not our place to judge.” Phil frowned at me. “Is this going to be an issue for you?”

  He was aware of my past. Revealing any potential skeletons in the closet that could cause future issues had been a requirement of working for him. “No. I’m just stating the obvious. The reaction has caused a ripple. Cause and effect. It’s a bitch.”

  Phil nodded, the furrows on his forehead deepening. “You’ll need to speak with Immanuel’s family, again. Is that going to be a problem?”

  “I’ll deal. You don’t need to worry about my own Daddy issues.”

  “Have you heard from him?”

  The question threw me for a second. “He’ hasn’t had any reason to reach out since our last conversation. He understands that I’m not interested in conforming with his expectations to fit into his world. It’s a hard limit for me, and it seems he can’t accept his only son for the man he is.” I shrugged off the old hurt, accepting that some things couldn’t be fixed.

  Phil scratched the side of his head with a thoughtful expression on his face.

  “I’m fine, Phil. Let it be. Now, have you filled in an application form for me, or do you want me to do it?”

  I breathed a little easier once Phil let me switch the conversation back to the case. An hour later, I strolled out of his apartment building, leaving my motorbike in his underground garage and, needing some fresh air, choosing to walk through Canary Wharf.

  For some reason, the case was already making me twitchy. I’d done undercover work in the police force, and I’d developed a nose for cases that were going to be, in a word… difficult. This one had all the hallmarks of being an utter bastard. There were too many loose threads, which meant it was going to take time and patience to tie them all together and see what was truly going on. I’d normally relish this kind of work, but all I felt was a deep sense of trepidation. I’d learnt to listen to my instincts, given that they’d kept me alive more than once.

  The cry of the gulls overhead sounded ominous as I glanced up at the dark, foreboding sky. It seemed like choosing my bike to travel to Phil’s had been a mistake. I carried on walking to the river’s edge and leaned on the railing to look out over the Thames. The city was shrouded in heavy cloud, and didn’t look the slightest bit inviting. The city had been my home now for over ten years, and I still craved the Dorset coast where I’d grown up. There was no scent of salt in the air here.

  Time passed as I stared at the city, wondering if after this case, it might be time to consider moving on. During the past year, I’d become more and more unsettled as I’d watched those closest to me settle down with their subs. First, Carl, who was the co-owner of The Playroom, then Nathan, Carl’s business partner. The latest was Isaac, a close friend of mine and the manager of The Playroom. They’d all found their matches, and I was struggling with the knowledge that I was lonely, that I’d left it too late to show the man I was interested in that I wanted more. It was particularly galling because I didn’t have any idea why he’d stopped coming to The Playroom months ago. Should I have gone looking for him?

  My sigh was lost in the chilly wind as I straightened and shut down my negative thoughts. It was time to get back to work. I sent up a silent prayer that this case would turn into a simple lost and found case which would be easily solved.

  As I strolled back to the underground car park, tension at the base of my neck reminded me that sometimes life didn’t give us what we wanted no matter how many silent pleas we made.

  Gabriel


  The message from Phil to say my application to Dom’s Haven had been accepted was unexpected, due to the fact he’d only submitted it a few hours earlier. Had they bothered to check out my references?

  The feeling in the pit of my stomach said they’d done fuck all follow-up to see if I was the real deal. That spoke volumes and told me that they didn’t give a fuck about protecting those in the club from pretenders and wannabe Dom’s.

  Once I was out of the shower, I went over to my built-in wardrobe and rifled through my clubwear. It was eleven pm, the chilly night air outside a factor in my choice of clothes as I reached for a pair of soft leather trousers in a chocolate-brown colour. I pulled out a matching harness, and a thick enough jacket to keep the chill out and cover what I was wearing.

  I got dressed and then styled my hair, adding several leather bracelets to my wrists. A splash of cologne and I was ready. I gave myself a critical once over. I wasn’t worried about not fitting in. I’d been a Dom for fifteen years so I wouldn’t need to put on an act. My own personal lifestyle choices would make the job easier, or so I hoped.

  Jacket on, I ordered an Uber before heading out the door. On the street, I waited at the curb under one of the streetlights. The clocks were due to change the following week, the summer well and truly over, and the sky was pitch black with no stars. It felt like only weeks since it had been the longest day of the year. The time of the year when the nights stayed light were my favourite time of year.

  I inhaled and exhaled several times as the nerves started to kick in and the time ticked away. It was never any different when I started a new case, with the knowledge that someone’s survival was potentially in my hands. The car arrived seconds later and I climbed in the back, the scent of grease and sweat unpleasant as I sank back in the seat. The driver wasn’t chatty, so I stared out of the window, thinking about what I needed to do tonight.

  The file on the club highlighted a number of people I needed to connect with, Riley, the owner, being top of the list. He was my target, but seeking him out immediately would arouse suspicion, so tonight was about getting the lay of the land, figuring out what the club was all about, and seeing what kind of men frequented the place. I’d double-checked, and there were BDSM clubs that catered to all genders, whereas Dom’s Haven was purely for men.

  The driver pulled up outside Dom’s Haven a few minutes later. It was situated in Dungeon’s Wharf, an area going through regeneration. The building in front of me had been a warehouse at one point, and its large windows had all been blacked-out. The once bright red brick was now dark and dirty-looking, the sign on the building the only thing that looked relatively new. From the outside the place looked a little seedy. Had that been done on purpose?

  There were men queuing outside the black double doors. I exited the cab and walked over to join them, nodding at several men as I passed, but keeping my face neutral. Sometimes it didn’t do to try and be too friendly too soon. There was some excited chatter from the two guys in front of me, but it was hard to get a read on them in order to ascertain whether they were Dom’s or subs, and neither their conversation or clothes gave away any clues. They both wore jeans and thick jackets, but that wasn’t unusual. Patrons of this type of club sometimes didn’t want to advertise what they were into, clubs tending to offer lockers for members to store their change of outfit in.

  Only half-listening to the conversation, I eyed the guy manning the door. He was large and muscular, dressed head to toe in black leather, and wore a ‘don’t fuck with me’ expression. He was alert and watchful, letting only a few men in at a time through the doors.

  He did no more than grunt as I reached the front of the queue, passing him once he’d deemed I could go in. The foyer was dated, the smell of stale sex lingering distastefully as I went over to the chipped, wooden counter which housed a bored-looking sub, his mouth moving constantly as he chewed gum.

  He didn’t bother to look up as he asked, “Name?”

  “Gabriel Winters.” I’d kept my first name and changed my surname to keep things simple. That always worked best in these types of situations, a slip-up could be costly for all involved.

  After tapping a few keys on the keyboard in front of him, he glanced up from the computer, his mouth opening to reveal the lump of chewing gum. “You’re new, you’ll need to wear a green bracelet.” He nodded at the glass bowls holding several different bands.

  “Green signifies what?” I asked politely, giving the guy a wide, friendly smile.

  It worked and I got an answering one in return. “A newbie. It lets others know that. It helps if you just decide to watch rather than play.” He gave me a flirty wink. “If you’re looking for someone to play with, I’ll be more than happyꟷ”

  “Chris, stop flirting,” said a deep voice with enough force that it immediately removed the smile from Chris’s face.

  “Sorry boss.”

  I turned my attention to the man who’d come from inside the club. His long, dark hair hung limply and looked like it needed a wash. The fact his face had seen a lot of action made it hard to determine his age. Deep lines were etched around his eyes, nose and mouth and his jaw was covered in scruff. But it was his eyes that held my attention—mean and cunning the words that sprang to mind as he assessed me.

  What before had only been a slight hum of nerves under my skin heightened to an electrified level as my instincts kicked in. Offering a bland smile, I held out my hand. “Gabriel Winters.”

  At six-foot-four, I could meet the guy’s gaze head on as he narrowed the distance between us to take my hand. “Riley, I’m the owner.”

  I kept my smile in place as I shook hands, his palm clammy. “Nice to meet you. It’s my first visit.”

  The way his gaze travelled over me made my skin crawl. “You’re not new to the scene, though. I have good instincts.”

  The hard edge to his voice felt like a warning. “As I indicated on my application, I’ve been a Dom for a while.”

  His dark brows rose. “I see so many applications it’s hard to recall all the details.”

  I’d bet my last pound that he remembered all the sub’s details, but I kept my thoughts to myself as I nodded slowly. “Must be hard.”

  A huff came from the bloke behind me, who clearly wanted us to move along. I lifted a green bracelet and slipped it on my wrist. Taking off my jacket, I glanced over at Chris. “Do you have a cloakroom?”

  “Yes, give it to me, and I’ll give you a ticket to claim it back later.”

  Riley had disappeared by the time I’d shoved the cloakroom ticket in my wallet and I was ready to head inside. Once I’d entered the club, I was glad he’d left me alone. One sweep of the room and I was struggling to contain my disgust and derision at what was happening around me.

  Alcohol flowed freely, the tables littered with empty bottles and glasses. Men appeared to be drunk and carrying out scenes. One sub was crying so hard that it was difficult as a Dom not to intervene, another was yanked by his arm so roughly that it looked like the Dom was trying to dislocate it.

  Dirty rotten bastard!

  I shoved my hands into my pockets to hide my fists as I stared at what could never be called a BDSM club by any self-respecting Dom. The wandering Dom’s, of which I spotted five, didn’t seem interested in the distressed sub. In fact, if anything one of them was amused, a smile on his face as he passed by without questioning the young man’s obvious anguish.

  After years of police work, and being a Dom myself, I’d learnt to read people. What was happening was non-consensual, my fears about the job becoming a reality. What the fuck had I signed myself up to this time?

  If I’d thought meeting Immanuel’s family might be the hardest thing I was going to have to do, this place dispelled that myth. I walked up to the bar, dread curling inside my gut at the realisation that in order to do my job, I might have to do things as a Dom at Dom’s Haven that I would never normally consider. Clinging to the hope of being able to locate Immanuel fast so that I
could still bear to look at myself in the mirror, I leant on the bar and indicated to the bartender that I wanted a drink.

  The bartender wouldn’t be drawn into conversation so, drink in hand, I inhaled deeply. Then I turned to face the room and what would come next, where I would have to mingle with the fuckheads.

  Phil

  “Three months have passed, and it’s like wading through syrup going in there every day getting no further forward than a fucking millimetre. I’ll give them this, their set-up is better than I expected. Though I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing?” Gabriel complained, not for the first time since he’d taken on the job. His attractive face was drawn, the lines around his mouth much deeper than the last time I’d seen him a month ago.

  Once it had become apparent that this case wasn’t going to be straightforward, we’d scheduled a monthly update meeting. The men in the club were wary of new members and so far, had remained tight-lipped about what was going on. That was the reason Gabriel was getting irritated, and I got it. I didn’t have to go in there night after night and act like I was enjoying myself.

  Leaning forward, I picked up the file of information Gabriel had brought with him. He wasn’t wrong about this case feeling like we were both wading through syrup.

  Dom’s Haven had a far more complex security system in place than I’d have suspected. It had taken weeks to get through the many layers of protection and illegally access their database. Once I’d managed it, I’d downloaded a huge amount of stored data. Only, I’d been kicked out of the site about two thirds into the download, when something or someone had detected my activity and blocked me out. I’d spent a few frustrating days trying to regain access in order to get the rest of the information. But so far, I’d failed miserably and it was pissing me off greatly.

  I’d set aside a few days to search through the files I’d managed to get access to, instead. On initial inspection there were thousands of files, which was still a huge amount of data to go through when I didn’t have anyone available to help me.