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Chapter Two
Leaning back against the porch pillar, waiting for Avalon to open, Thane Isaacson checked his watch and frowned. He was sure the opening hours of the BDSM club he'd been scouting were from twenty-hundred hours on a Friday night—at least, the place had already had cars in the lot and people in the bar the last time he came. It was now almost twenty-forty-five, and the doors were still locked.
He glanced over to the lot and noticed that aside from his jeep, there were three hefty trucks and a car parked in the glow of the security lights. More headlights were coming slowly down the drive, so he figured he wasn't going to miss out on his first night of play in a month. A very long, frustrating month.
This was his third night at Avalon, and he'd finally taken the plunge, applying for membership earlier in the week—finding it suited his tastes better than any of the clubs in Phoenix. When he got the time to play, he wanted to do it in friendly surroundings, knowing the people around him. Phoenix clubs just didn't have that vibe, and he'd seen some shady shit going down that didn't sit well with him.
This place? It checked all his required points, and then some.
Hopefully, tonight he'd get a chance to integrate with the members more. While everyone had been friendly on his previous visits, welcoming even, he hadn't been included yet. He couldn't blame them—new faces couldn't always be trusted for numerous reasons. Visit number three, with a security clearance passed and a membership card in his wallet, might prove to be a more fruitful night.
Thane wondered if the curvy brunette whose hair was a tawnier shade of brown would be here tonight. She'd caught his eye the last time he'd come, and she'd hit his radar with all the right notes. He'd only managed to catch a glimpse of her eyes—she'd been sitting with her friends most of the night, withdrawn and unhappy—but the shade of gray fascinated him.
After tonight, it would be another week before he could come again—relocating was taking forever, or so it seemed. He just wanted the whole thing over with. His career as a sniper for hire based out of Chicago had been brought to a close after the car accident in which his truck had been written off had also fucked up his leg. Limping around like a one-legged duck had made him realize he was too old to be flying around the world at the behest of other people, navigating the shadows and dodging authorities, to put bullets in bad guys.
Eighteen years in the military had been enough for him. Thane admitted without hesitation that the army had made him the man he’d become. Rigorous training had shaped him from a knock-kneed adolescent with pencil arms into a fit, healthy soldier with muscles designed for a purpose.
At eighteen, Thane had worked his ass off to ascend the ranks, from lowly private until he finally made it into the special forces—thanks mainly to an exceptionally sharp eye and steady hands. Eighteen months into his stint as a Green Beret, he’d been selected for a top-secret project at the age of twenty-eight, fulfilling a dream.
By the time he turned thirty-four, he’d had enough. The travel, the killing, the lack of control he had over his own life couldn’t be glossed over by the friendships he’d made in his unit anymore. They’d become his family, but he wanted more—strange pussy in quantities every few months didn’t cut it anymore, and he found himself craving a solid home base. If it had a yard and a dog, even better.
So, he’d taken his leave of the institution that raised him and used the skills they’d provided him to strike out on his own as a sniper for hire. Settling in Chicago, he’d found his home—minus the dog—and his bed no longer hosted one-night stands…until the accident.
Now, at forty-six, he felt too old to be starting again. Life in Chicago had changed after the accident, had become…stale. So after a great deal of thought, he’d made the choice to sell his house, distance himself from his past, and head somewhere where his goddamn leg wouldn’t scream with pain from the cold.
Two cars pulled up in the parking lot. Thane watched three females alight from one, and a middle-aged couple disembark from the other while another set of headlights were heading down the drive. Apparently, there'd been a change of opening times he hadn't been made aware of, but no matter. He found he liked it out here—quiet, open skies, and the peace that came with being out in the country.
The club doors opened, spilling more light onto the porch, haloing the tall man framed on the threshold. Thane recognized him as the bartender-slash-manager. Blond, shaggy haircut and full beard. Young, maybe thirty at a push. “Hey, there. Sorry for the later opening,” he said, stepping back as Thane stretched. “Just a minor complication we needed to sort out.”
“No worries,” Thane said gruffly, reaching for his wallet and his membership card as he followed him into the club foyer. “Liam, right?”
“That's me.” The blond slid into the desk chair and logged into the computer. “I'm short-staffed for the next ten minutes, so if you need a drink, I'll be there as soon as I've checked everyone in.” He took the membership card, brand new and shiny apart from a couple of fingerprints, and swiped it. “Isaacson, Thane. You're all done, thanks.”
Taking his card back, Thane nodded and wandered into the club as the trio of women behind him began to flirt with the blond Master. There was no one in the club. All the lights were on, but even the background music was absent. Whatever had gone on, whatever minor complicationshad transpired, it had thrown Liam off his game for the night.
With a painful hitch in his stride, courtesy of the metal that had sheared through his thigh, he meandered to the bar and eased down onto a stool to wait for Liam to finish stretching himself too thin. Under normal circumstances, Thane would have offered to help with the bartending or the signing-in duties, but he knew he wouldn't have been drafted to the task.
Movement caught his attention in the walkway. Thane cocked his head as he recognized the larger of two figures slipping out of view—the big Master of Avalon, Atticus, and a second, smaller person—female and familiar. The brief glimpse he caught of her reminded him of the woman who’d caught his attention on his previous visits, only he was convinced she was dominant. Interesting.
His eyes slid to the right as the three women who'd been behind him in the foyer made an entrance, strutting through the swing doors and making a beeline straight for the bar. Correction, he thought in exasperation as the middle one's bright blue eyes locked on him. They were making a beeline for him, where he sat all alone without so much as a drink to lose himself in.
They surrounded him.
“Hey there,” the first one purred, giving a good attempt at infusing seduction into her voice. “You look lonely.”
She couldn't be more than twenty-five in body, eighteen in the brain. Far too immature for his liking, even if she'd hit his arousal button. Sadly, neither she nor her partners in crime held any interest for him. A pity, but he'd learned many years ago that playing with someone he didn't have the slightest ounce of attraction to just soured what should be a pleasurable exchange of power.
“Alone,” he amended, circling his finger to encompass the area. “Not lonely.”
Number two stepped closer, running her fingers down his arm. “There's a difference?”
College girls, he mused. Maybe on a rite of passage mission. Sorority dare? Did they even know what Avalon was? Stifling a laugh, Thane lifted his hand to his mouth and ran his thumb over his lips. “Is this your first time at the club, girls? Because you know the rules, right?”
“Rules?” Number two asked, confused. “It's a nightclub. A really sucky one,” she added with a pout. “There's no one here, and there's no music. We just want a really good night out, y'know? Get drunk, have some fun, maybe find a handsome man to do naughty things with in the bathroom…” She gave him a coy smile that didn't suit her in the slightest.
“Mm-hmmm. Two questions. Number one: how did you find this place?”
“Oh well, see, Amy overheard her stepmom talking about Avalon and how things happen here that don't anywhere else. Amy's stepmom is like the same age, so she's not gonna recommend somewhere for her friends to party that's gonna blow, is she?” Number three jumped in with a beaming smile. “We looked at her dad's navigation system in the BMW, and it gave us the directions.”
