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Fuck.
“You think they heard a fan wanted to meet them?”
Rider’s negative shake is sharp. “I’m the only one who knew you’d be able to make it.”
“Anyone else have scores to settle?”
“Against those guys? Probably hundreds. But vengeful motherfuckers like that won’t get past my front door. What sort of club do you think I’m running here?”
A woman walks by in classic dominatrix gear, ignoring the man behind her who’s whining, “Please, Mistress. Unlock my cock cage for just thirty seconds…”
Before I can answer Rider, he presses his fingers against an almost-invisible earpiece. “Put him in holding room one. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Adrenaline spikes the base of my brain. “One of our guys?”
Rider shakes his head. “Just someone…very high up in the mayor’s office. Upset that his mask got pulled off in one of the private rooms.”
“Good luck with that,” I say.
He takes one more look around the room. “I don’t have to warn you to be careful, do I?”
“You just did. And no.”
He swaggers through the crowd, cutting a swath wide enough for two men to follow in his wake.
I want to believe the Herzogs are just late arrivals. Maybe they got tied up handing out candy to neighborhood kids. They could be delayed by a hyper-competitive bobbing-for-apples contest.
But in my gut, I know they aren’t coming.
Nevertheless, I take another circuit around the club. It’s getting late. The initial frenzy of the party guests has died down, and a lot of people are just standing around and talking. In fact, I don’t see any real action until I reach the large room at the back.
A stage is framed by a bright spotlight. A Dom sits on a hard wooden chair, his little blonde sub balanced over his lap. She’s dressed in a classic schoolgirl outfit, plaid mini-skirt, white top that shows half her tits, her hair in braids. Her skirt’s flipped up, and her ass is bright red. She’s begging, “Please, Daddy, please.” From the sound of her squeal as he spanks her again, she’s about one smack away from coming.
I’m staring at her ass, but I’m not seeing it. I’m listening to her moan, but I’m not hearing her. I’m back in Dover, back at the freeport, standing over Alix with my belt in my hand.
She wanted it. She begged me for it. If it was too much, if I gave her more than she bargained for, she would have used her safeword.
But she didn’t safeword here, when she was with Jonas and Ansel, surrounded by a crowd of curious party guests. She let those cumrags bind her tight enough to dislocate a less limber woman’s shoulders. She let them gag her with a tool she hates. She let them draw blood with a cane.
I know the argument. Rider’s security guard choked it into me: Alix didn’t set a safeword. The club wasn’t responsible for stopping the Herzogs because Alix exercised her own free will.
But was she truly free to act that night? Was she in her right mind? Or was her past with Jonas and Ansel simply too overwhelming?
And what about tonight? Did I take things too far? Was Alix capable of telling me when to stop?
She trusts me. That’s why what we have works. I respect her one hard limit: no anal. And everything else, she draws the line—if it hurts too much… If it dredges up nightmares… Hell if she’d just rather curl up with her stuffed panda and watch stupid videos on her phone for the night.
She’s the one in charge.
She’s safeworded before. But when was the last time she stopped me? What if she’s forgotten how? What if Jonas and Ansel broke her here, and I’ve been too blind or too horny or too fucking confident that I’m the man she needs?
The little blonde is coming now, putting on a show, bucking and screaming and peeking out at the crowd to make sure everyone appreciates how hard she’s working. I turn and push my way out of the room.
I barely waste time in the Green Room, pulling on my shirt. I make Charles pull the car around the corner, and I get out to tell Best’s guys the deal is off. I toss the syringes in a storm drain as I get back in the Mercedes, and I tell Charles to hurry, to get us home. I don’t give a fuck about John Law.
I just need to get to Alix.
29
