The Effing List

by Cherise Sinclair

  Feeling another stab wound cutting through her, Valerie flinched.

  She had no right to be hurt. Ghost was allowed to enjoy whatever good…fucks…came his way. It wasn’t as if they had any commitment to each other.

  She was the one who’d insisted there be no relationship. If he took the redhead up on her offer, it was Valerie’s own damn fault.

  But this was why she’d tried to keep from getting involved. Because she never again wanted to feel like she was filled with jealousy. Feel so miserable she couldn’t even pull in a complete breath.

  Like now.

  Stupid, stupid Valerie.

  “No, I rather doubt we’ll be hooking up,” she told Linda, trying to sound indifferent. The snap of a whip and a scream caught her attention—and provided the excuse she needed. Because leaving the club right now would feel too much like Barry and Kahlua had driven her away. But she couldn’t stand to stay here, attempting to ignore Ghost with the beauty. “I’m going to go check out the single-tail scene back there. Say hi to Sam for me.”

  Linda frowned, but nodded. “All right. We’ll see you later.”

  “Sure.” Holding her head high, she headed toward the other side of the room.

  “There you go.” Ghost seated the pretty redhead in the unclaimed submissive sitting area near the bar.

  “Thank you, Colonel,” she whispered, eyes downcast.

  He smothered his laugh. “Much better. Now, remember what I told you.”

  Not waiting for her response, he strolled away. The beautiful woman wouldn’t have trouble finding a play partner, although he doubted a serious Dom would be interested.

  Most Dominants wouldn’t mind a submissive asking for a scene…although the stricter Doms might take offense.

  But when she knelt and begged after he’d refused, she’d gone too far. Rather than getting a play partner, she’d earned herself a lecture on manners.

  Perhaps, someday, she’d discover a Dom didn’t want someone who was completely self-centered.

  Shaking his head, he headed through the room. He’d spotted Valerie sitting with Linda, but she wasn’t there now.

  Well, it was too early to take time off for a scene anyway. He’d watch for her, though.

  He slowed to watch some wax play, pleased to see the Top was using a drop cloth and had a small fire extinguisher at hand. The young man stretched out on the table shuddered nicely with each drop of wax. Someone was having a good time.

  As Ghost strolled past some younger members, they fell abruptly silent. A glance showed they were carefully not looking at him.

  Discussing the new manager, perhaps?

  Amused, he continued on. But by the time he reached the back of the room, he’d run into several other instances of the same behavior—and his amusement was gone.

  Shades of déjà vu. This felt like Seattle after his reputation had been dragged through the dirt.

  Mood darkening, he checked out the back rooms.

  In the medical room, a gay submissive wiggled vigorously as he received an enema.

  The fucking machine room was popular. Galen and Vance were holding Sally between them. The submissive was sweat-drenched and exhausted.

  The pet play members had taken over orgy central, and somehow there was a baby dragon in there, nipping at a kitten’s paws.

  The dungeon was busy, including someone getting thoroughly hammered on the sex swing.

  He received more side-eye looks, and his gut tightened.

  As he walked back through the main room, he could hear whispers. Stares felt like hot prickles on his back.

  Time to find out what was going on.

  At the bar, he spotted the two veterinarians, Jake and Saxon. Jake’s submissive, Rainie, was arguing with them, her hands waving in the air. At any other time, Ghost would have smiled to see her. She had a personality as vivid as her colorful flower tatts and streaked hair.

  He thought twice about breaking into an argument, but then she saw him and flushed. Right. Guess who was the subject of their conversation?

  Catching the Doms’ attention, he said, “Fill me in, please.”

  Jake hesitated.

  “He’s right, bro. He should know what’s being said, and we need the truth.” Expression grim, Saxon rubbed the back of his neck. “What I’m hearing is you left Seattle because you screwed up a scene and ignored a submissive’s hard limits. She had a meltdown, didn’t get aftercare from you, tried to commit suicide—and ended up in a mental hospital. Apparently, everyone, including her, blames you.”

  Felt like he was getting shot right in the gut. Again. First, a punch through the skin, then the shock, and finally the explosion of pain.

  This same bullshit had swept through Chains two years ago. He braced his feet and sought his balance. “I see.”

  Jake’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t appear surprised. How much of that is true?”

  “Some of it, actually, but—”

  A scream from a nearby scene interrupted him. A bottom had gone hysterical. The screams continued, bringing back far too many memories of Faylee. The Top desperately tried to free the woman, and a flailing arm knocked him on his ass.

  Hell. “Excuse me.” Ghost hurried over to assist. The dungeon monitor, Sam, approached from the other side.

  A while later, with the woman released and wrapped around her Top for calming, Ghost rounded up Peggy to clean the scene area.

  “Of course, Sir. I’ll get right on it.” She beamed at him.

  Such a sweetheart. After Z terminated the lazy young women Wrecker had hired, Ghost had been delighted when Peggy agreed to return.

  “Thank you, Peggy.”

  All right. The disaster averted, now what to do about his own? He headed for the bar to give Jake and Saxon their answers.

  A bright red skirt caught his attention, and he paused.

  Valerie. And she was beautiful in that outfit. He’d hoped to see her tonight, but—now, what with the gossip, he wasn’t sure what to do.

  She’d seen him, though. Had she noticed his hesitation?

  “Valerie, it’s good to see you.” Only it wasn’t. He had a mess on his hands, and she was still a newcomer to the lifestyle and to him. He could hardly ask her to believe his word, to stand with him against the onslaught of gossip.

  His mouth tightened as he tried to find the right words.

  “Ghost. I…” Her brows drew together, and she took a step back.

  So…she’d heard the rumors.

  Her withdrawal wasn’t a bullet to the gut, more like the slide of a dagger between the ribs, slicing into his heart. Hauling in a pained breath, he gave her what she obviously wanted.

  What she needed.

  “I have things to deal with right now, Valerie. I’m afraid I won’t be able to join you tonight.”

  Her gaze dropped, hiding her reaction. Her face held the calm overlay she donned when she didn’t want to share her emotions. The one he would normally call her on.

  With persuasion and care, she’d normally give him everything.

  But this time, when she said, “Of course. Perhaps some other night,” he stepped back and let her pass.

  As she walked away without a backward look, he felt as if he stood in Dresden as two thousand tons of bombs and incendiaries blew the city apart.

  * * *

  So…that was that, Valerie thought.

  Ghost had found someone he’d rather play with than her. She had to give him credit. He’d had the courtesy to let her know so she wouldn’t wait for him. So, she’d be free to find someone else to play with.

  Very polite of him, wasn’t it?

  Like a wounded animal, Valerie stepped behind the screening plants in an empty sitting area. It felt as if she’d laced her bustier so tightly, her lungs were compressed, and she couldn’t get any air.

  Surely that was why her chest ached enough to bring tears to her eyes.

  Bracing her hands on the back of a chair, she breathed through the pain, much lik
e she did when Ghost flogged her.

  Trying to turn the hurt into something else.

  I guess the technique doesn’t work for this kind of pain.

  She knew better. These wounds were only cured by time and endurance. Her lips tightened. Wasn’t it nice she was a pro at enduring?

  She’d endured her parents, endured being eighteen and penniless, endured the fading and death of a marriage, endured Alisha and Kahlua.

  Straightening, she swiped a finger beneath each eye, eliminating the few tears that’d spilled over.

  She could endure this, too.

  Another breath.

  She tugged at her bustier and smoothed her skirt.

  Another breath.

  Better.

  Ghost had headed toward the rear of the room. Good. She could leave without making him feel badly about her decision.

  Yes, his rejection hurt—and maybe she wouldn’t mind kicking him a time or two. In the balls. Nonetheless, it wasn’t his fault he’d found someone he liked better. He’d been polite when he let her down. Kind, even.

  At least, he hadn’t dumped her the way Olivia had Natalia.

  She blinked hard…because it still hurt…and headed for the front and escape.

  Keeping a slight distance from the bar and the Masters there, she walked past a sitting area with two women and a man.

  “Are you bullshitting me?” A screechy blonde in a pink negligee spilled her drink. “She attempted suicide because Ghost messed up a scene?”

  What? Valerie almost tripped

  “Yeah, but she didn’t die.” The Dom wore shiny black latex. And…she knew him. Who could forget his dangling Fu Manchu mustache? Dogget worked in the same realty as Barry’s buddy, Scott Hicks.

  Stalling, she fiddled with the clothing bag Natalia had given her.

  “I don’t remember anyone here attempting suicide.” The second woman had green-streaked brunette hair and a soft voice.

  “Didn’t happen here.” Dogget tugged on one side of his mustache. “It was a club named Chains in Seattle.”

  “Ohhh, maybe that’s why he’s in Florida, huh?” The blonde grew increasingly worried.

  “No shit. Yeah, the so-called colonel ignored her hard limits and kept going until he reduced her to wanting to kill herself.”

  Ghost hadn’t honored someone’s hard limits? Valerie had a moment of doubt. Something had happened in Seattle that sent him here, and he’d said he had a scene go bad. It still bothered him.

  No, she didn’t believe what they were saying. He was far too honest. Honorable. And careful. Look at the way he’d negotiated everything first with her, then kept checking in, never doing anything he hadn’t covered.

  Dogget leaned forward as if he were trying to persuade the two women. “The Shadowlands owner sure shouldn’t have fired Wrecker and put that incompetent bastard in. Ghost has fucked everything up and—”

  “I like the changes,” the petite woman with green-streaked hair interrupted. “And I know Master Z wouldn’t put anyone in as manager who wasn’t a good Dom. Ghost never seemed—”

  “Shut up, Tabitha. You know nothing,” Dogget snapped. “The asshole ignored her hard limits even though she was screaming at him to stop. He—”

  Valerie struck the back of the leather couch so hard the sound filled the air—and made them all jump. “Enough. Ghost would never ignore someone’s hard limits. If there is anyone in this club who is honorable, it is the Colonel.”

  Dogget scowled. “Jesus, you’re Barry’s ex. What the fuck would you know? You have no clue what—”

  “On the contrary, I’ve scened with the Colonel; you haven’t.” She stared him down. “I don’t know what bullshit you’re trying to peddle, but you’re not only lying, you’re setting yourself up for a lawsuit, as well.”

  He turned pale, and his mouth snapped shut.

  Bringing up lawsuits to a realtor? Easy score. Heh.

  Now, should she give Ghost a call and warn him about this turn of events? She turned and…

  Oh-oh. Perhaps she’d been a…bit…loud.

  Every person on this side of the bar was staring at her—including several of the gold-banded Masters. Master Sam nodded to her. Arm around Gabi, Master Marcus was studying Valerie. Master Cullen was grinning.

  Her face heated to the point she knew she must be dark red. No meditation was going to quiet her nerves tonight.

  At least, the Masters would tell Ghost about the rumor-mill.

  Valerie swallowed. Or they would once he finished scening with the redhead. The thought was like a drenching of icy water. Straightening her spine, she headed out the door.

  “Yeah, Scott, we pushed the gossip big-time.” Barry grinned at the sound of gleeful laughter over the phone. “The rumors are all through the club. Some members are planning to call the owner to get GI Joe’s ass fired.”

  As the noise in his kitchen escalated to slapping sounds and screams, he muffled the receiver against his chest. “Jesus fuck, you bitches stop fighting. Alisha, fetch me a drink.”

  Damn, he missed Valerie. Kahlua and Alisha hadn’t been nearly this bad with her around.

  Putting the cell back to his ear, he heard, “You’re a good friend, Barry. I owe you.”

  “No problem. That’s what friends are for.” Barry took the glass of whiskey Alisha handed him and started to fondle her breasts, but she moved out of his reach.

  Great, what got up her ass?

  On the phone, Scott was still complaining.

  Barry scowled. “We won’t be there long either. Can’t afford the fees without the huge discount you gave us. Any chance you’ll get the job back?”

  “No way,” Scott griped. “Grayson was a real cold bastard on the phone…the fucking asshole. The extra money was sure nice. My bitch-wife’s a real tightass about what I spend. I don’t suppose you have some you could spare?”

  “Fuck no. I’m broke.” Two more potential contracts had fallen through, all because he’d lost his temper with a nitpicky asshole client who wasn’t satisfied with the work he and his crew had done. Who said he’d been drunk on the job.

  Didn’t take much to mess up a man’s reputation.

  A twinge of guilt ran through him…because he’d spent the evening destroying another man’s rep.

  Then he shrugged. Served Ghost right for stealing Scott’s job—and being a stick-up-the-ass prick.

  Chapter Seventeen

  In her bedroom, Valerie squinted blearily in the bright light. There should be a law the sun wasn’t allowed to be so bright when she was in a crummy mood.

  Bah. She blinked, trying to find a particle of energy. None. Her muscles, her bones, even her hair felt tired.

  How long had she been awake last night?

  Worrying about Ghost and those rumors had turned into thinking about making love with him and then into a misery-fest. Because she wasn’t what he wanted, and it hurt.

  She should have known better. Naturally, he preferred a prettier, sexier, younger woman.

  And then, in front of an audience, she’d defended the guy who dumped her.

  Did that make her honorable…or pitiful?

  Just stop. Tossing the covers back, she sat up. She didn’t feel bad about standing up for him. Their non-existent relationship was a separate matter from Dogget’s smear campaign. Defending him had been the right thing to do.

  Hoping to outrun her…ghosts, she went for a morning jog and let the cool, salt-laden air soothe her.

  But not too much. Because she could hear the Colonel’s deep rasping voice. “Always maintain situational awareness. Move like a badass, not a victim—head up, shoulders back, look straight at each person.” She carried pepper spray in one hand, wore a personal safety device on her wrist, and had her phone in her pocket.

  Each day, she changed her route, keeping to the more populated trails.

  It worked. Although she’d spotted possible muggers in the past week, none tried to approach her.

  I’m a badass
.

  After a long, hot shower, she did her meditation, then rewarded herself with a mocha coffee.

  Settling down at the tiny balcony table, she tried to pretend she didn’t miss having Ghost across from her and didn’t miss reading the news on their devices, sharing interesting tidbits, and making their plans together for the day.

  Her chest couldn’t be aching because she was sad.

  It was merely a nice heart attack, right?

  Rolling her eyes, she turned her thoughts to less fraught subjects…like rumors.

  Dogget was Scott’s friend, and Scott was a vindictive creep. Could Scott be trying to destroy Ghost, who had tossed him out of the club and then replaced him as manager?

  Gods, this was ugly. Because…Barry had always trailed after Scott like a street dog after the meat wagon. What were the odds her ex was also involved in spreading lies about Ghost?

  And they were lies. Because she knew Ghost. Whatever had happened in the past, he hadn’t behaved dishonorably. She could understand he might have made a mistake in a scene, but he was nothing like the monster Dogget had described.

  She tapped her fingers on her thigh and scowled because Ghost might not defend himself. Not to his accusers, not to the club members. The idiot would be all honorable—and would lose. His enemies didn’t play by the rules.

  They’d lie. Manipulate. Cheat.

  No, she wouldn’t have it. Not if there was something she could do.

  But if she was going to act, she needed more information.

  Taking a sip of coffee, she studied the puffy clouds in the sky. Someone must know what had happened in the Seattle club.

  As manager, Scott would’ve had access to all the files in the Shadowlands. She’d bet it was where he’d located information about Ghost.

  But…records never gave the complete story. That would come from the people themselves. From people who’d been there at the time. She needed to talk to them.

  How?

  At the housewarming, hadn’t someone been talking about a Seattle club named Chains? A Master had mentioned he’d known Ghost at that club and hadn’t recognized him here because he’d shaved off his beard.