Dangerous (13 page)

“Are you taking care of me?” Ken asked softly, his lashes lowered over his eyes almost shyly.

“That depends. Do you like it?” Brady stood up and pulled him close, burying his face in the crook of Ken’s neck.

Ken leaned into him. “I think so. I’m not used to it, but I think so.”

Brady closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. They were one hell of a pair. “Let’s get you home.”

“That sounds good. Take me home, Officer. It’s the least you can do after that thorough cavity search. I’m not sure I could drive.”

Lifting his head, Brady smiled down at Ken before reaching for his shirt and slipping it back over his head. “I take my job seriously.”

He drove them back to the warehouse in silence. He knew every bend and curve and warp in the road, and Ken’s eyes were closed as if he’d fallen asleep, so he let his mind wander.

That was a little more than their usual round of rough sex.

A little?

Okay, it was a hell of a lot more than sex. Brady hadn’t felt like himself. He’d done things—tying Ken up with his own belt—that he would never think to do when he was clear-headed.

Maybe he was making too much of it. They’d both been impatient to get home and, on impulse, they’d given in to a harmless fantasy. Sexy cop and the traffic stop with a happy ending.

Only it hadn’t felt harmless.

Ken sensed it too. Brady had seen it in his eyes. Had he crossed some kind of invisible kink line? Should he apologize for going too far? For making the decision to pull over without asking first?

He seemed to recall Tasha talking about rules at the club. About being safe, sane and consensual. There were a lot of rules, but those were the easiest to remember. And they sounded normal enough. Everyone wanted that.

But he wasn’t sure that they’d been
any
of those in the last few days. He glanced over at Ken and revised his statement. Ken was all about being consensual, no matter what Brady did. He never turned him away and never turned him down. But one out of three still didn’t sound like that great a track record.

There was a part of him that wanted to apologize. Even wanted to be ashamed of himself—the way he’d been after he watched Ken shower. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

It was Ken. It was hot as hell, dirty as fuck, and it was Ken. His body was still recovering from how good it was and he’d be willing to do it again. Nothing with Ken Tanaka felt wrong.

If Brady was guilty of anything, it was of being wrong about what he did and didn’t find arousing. There was no way he could have known he had this in him. That he wasn’t as vanilla as everyone—including himself—believed. He didn’t know he had another flavor. No one had ever made him feel kinky. Well, kinky enough. But Ken did.

What about Ken’s kink?

Brady frowned. It hadn’t come up. So far everything had been about him, about what he wanted. Was Ken okay with that because he wasn’t expecting this to last? Or was he hoping for more give and take? He hadn’t said anything, hadn’t mentioned anything about it since their fight in the gym.

He needed to stop thinking about this. He didn’t want to waste a minute of tonight worrying about rope and kink and whether or not commitment was on Ken’s radar.

A lot depended on what happened tomorrow. If everything went according to plan, the day after would be for reunions and celebrations. And the day after that? If Ken gave him a chance, Brady promised himself he would tell him how he felt.

He wasn’t backing away again. 

Brady did his best to blend into the wall as he waited for Cal Grimes to finish his phone call. The club was so loud he’d had to take it outside, leaving Brady alone as an out-of-place extra in a Rob Zombie movie.

From the outside, the nightclub looked like a nondescript furniture outlet off the highway. An ordinary building, with a few oddly dressed club kids smoking near the entrance. Brady had been imagining an old church on a desolate stretch of road or a private high rise with no escape, but this was a populated area. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. He’d started to relax until they’d pushed through the large metal doors and the atmosphere had shattered his illusions and punched him right between the eyes.

This is what he imagined Hell looked like. Or at least, one level of it. He was pretty sure it wasn’t his age talking. Even Jen would turn around and run home after hearing what they were pretending was music—horrifying screams set to a dance beat. The lights above the crowd were swinging and swirling and pulsing enough to make the strongest stomach queasy, and men and women—most wearing latex, black lipstick, and apathy—shuffled their boneless bodies around the dance floor as if they were undead and this club was where they’d all been confined for everyone else’s safety.

Why
wasn’t he drinking again? A bottle or three of rum sounded like it would hit the spot right now. Brady sighed, taking it all in and knowing this wasn’t the worst of it. This was only the facade for the real horror story going on one level up. He doubted any of these Goth groupies even knew it existed. That there was a private club where people who were too rich to be famous gathered and played games with other people’s lives.

There was no reason they should know. According to Cal, the elevator was hidden and the only way up was with a special key card. For VIP members, the same elevator allowed access through a separate entrance in a secure garage.

Cal wasn’t a VIP yet, but he did possess a card.

Was Ken already up there? He’d left several hours earlier to pick up his play partner and get set up, giving Brady the kind of good luck kiss that made him want to drag his lover back to bed and never leave. Fucking tease.

Brady left the loft shortly afterward, still turned on but grateful to Ken for trying to keep him distracted. He’d spent the whole day describing the club he was a member of—the potlucks and Halloween parties, the laughter and lighthearted demonstrations. Whatever his friends had told him about
this
place made Ken nervous.

Ken didn’t get nervous, so Brady was a walking ball of stress. He used his short motorcycle ride to exorcise a few of those demons. He needed to bring his A game tonight. Needed to keep sharp and alert, and above all, to look like he was enjoying himself. This could all go to hell fast if he didn’t.

He met Cal in the parking lot of Finn’s Pub, a black dress jacket over his t-shirt and jeans. How Ken had managed to purchase something that fit him so well was a mystery, but one that met with Cal’s distracted approval.

Right away it was clear something was different. Cal was wired. Excitement and anticipation were making him restless as the car took them to their location. Underneath that there was something else. Fear? He didn’t proposition Brady once, which had to be a first, and he honestly wasn’t sure what to make of it. It was strange, being with Grimes without Ken in his ear keeping him sane and telling him what to say. But it wasn’t possible tonight. Brady was, for the most part, on his own, and he couldn’t fuck it up because he’d made Ken a promise to help bring Terry home.

Almost there
, he thought.
Almost done.

Several of the nightclub’s patrons noticed him leaning against the wall and sent him curious looks. When Brady smiled tightly, two of them came closer, staring at his hair with wide eyes.

Brady’s smile widened with genuine amusement. Did the color red confuse them?

Cal appeared in front of them and took Brady’s hand, glaring until the strange creatures backed away. “Looks like I got back to rescue my prize just in time.”

Brady let himself be led, noticing the dampness of Cal’s palms. “It’s easy to forget they’re just kids.”

“They’re foul demon spawn who have no respect for authority. I’ve spoken to the other members about either finding an alternate location or closing this lower floor down for good. Let them hate the world in someone’s basement.”

Someone got teased the first few times he came here
, Brady decided.

“That’s a little harsh,” he said. “They’re young. Having no respect for authority is a given when you’re young.”

“Says the cop-turned-Marine.”

Brady shrugged. “I’m a regular civilian now. But a Marine would say that good people fight and die for their right to wear those outfits and hate the world, so who are we to judge?” And now he felt guilty, because he’d definitely been judging.

Cal guided him to the back of the club, past the DJ booth and down a hall. He kept moving beyond the little Goth’s room—a unisex restroom with a bored-looking stick figure on a black door—until they came to what looked like a utility closet. Cal swung open the closet door and slipped inside the small room with Brady following close behind.

Cal moved around him, surreptitiously glancing back down the hall before shutting the door behind them.

Brady was bemused. “Are we in stealth mode?”

Cal rolled his eyes. “You can be pious all you like. I don’t want those bottom feeders getting too nosy.”

He motioned toward an open elevator that seemed out of place on the far wall of the dingy room. As they stepped into the sparkling clean cubicle, Cal took his key card out of his pocket and then stopped to stare at Brady for a long, tense moment. “Sometimes I’m not sure if I’m right about you.”

Shit.
Brady tilted his head, trying to send Cal one of the sensual smiles Ken used that always worked on him. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t have to put on a show like the rest of them. You don’t have to pretend to be the perfect moral specimen, like your cousin.” Cal’s laugh was strained. “I mean, you’re not angling for sainthood, are you?”

Brady braced himself and walked purposefully toward Cal, towering over him until he’d backed up against the elevator wall, clutching his key card. “You know me better than that by now, don’t you, Cal?”

Cal’s lips parted and he started to pant. “I…I thought I did. But I don’t know why you didn’t tell me you were staying with that man.”

Fucking hell. “Tanaka?” He shook his head and laughed, scrambling for a smooth answer. “I’m staying on the floor in an office in his building. It’s embarrassing to admit to someone you want to impress.”

Cal frowned suspiciously. “He hasn’t tried anything? He’s a rope Dom with a lot of money to throw around and friends in high places. He never came on to you?”

Brady moved in closer and lowered his voice, knowing how important this was. “If he did, I haven’t noticed. He’s a friend of Tasha’s and she knew he had extra space. So she did me a favor, getting the guy to let me crash at his place when Owen not-so-subtly kicked me out. That’s all it is, Cal. You’re the only one I’m dating. The one I’m on the phone with every night.”

“I know,” Cal whispered.

“Either I’m a sinner or a saint, Cal. You decide. If you want me to play saint, I will,” he offered smoothly, hating himself. “But I’d rather not with you.”

Cal’s free hand reached between them, slipping under Brady’s shirt to touch his flat stomach. Brady flinched in surprise but Cal closed his eyes and moaned, the hand holding the key card shaking. “I don’t want a saint, Brady. I want you to be the big, hard Marine who came back wanting more. Wanting what I can give you. You’ve kept me waiting and teased me for days. You’re bad and I want a bad boy. A big, bad boy that I can take home and punish.”

Don’t throw up. Keep smiling when you back away. Almost done.
“Then we’re on the same page.”

He moved back until he was leaning against the opposite wall and started his internal countdown to calm himself down. He didn’t want this to take more than an hour. Especially now that Cal had brought up Tanaka.

How had he found out?

Cal was more relaxed than he’d been since he picked Brady up. He smiled and inserted the key card, pushing a few buttons on a keypad before the doors closed and their short ascent began. Brady pretended he didn’t notice.

“I knew you’d come around, Brady. Knew you were different. When you told me you were interested in exploring your darker urges, it took a lot of restraint on my part not to bring you here right away. But you weren’t ready. You needed to know me. To feel safe with me. Even trust me. I think that’s happened, hasn’t it?”

No.

“Definitely,” he said instead.

“That’s why, when I found out your roommate was crashing the party, I made sure it was canceled. I don’t want anything distracting us, or anyone reporting back to the senator’s wife. After tonight, things will be different between us,” Cal promised, obviously unaware that he’d thrown Brady a surprise punch in the solar plexus. “It might shock you at first, what you see here. The senator’s wife thinks she knows what kink is, but she has no idea. Try to keep an open mind. If you can do that for me, I’ll make sure you won’t regret it. And when you meet my friends, you’ll finally understand what I can give to you. What being with me will do for everyone you care about. Your family.”

Brady’s shoulders tensed and he forced himself not to throw Cal against the wall for mentioning his family. “And here I thought it was just a party with some kinky toys.”

“It’s so much more than that, Brady. It changed my life.” The elevator stopped and the doors opened, but Cal stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Before you take another step, you need to know that you can never talk to anyone but me about what you see here. My friends are serious about their privacy. They’ll do anything to ensure it.”

Brady made himself smile and relaxed his posture, still feeling like a heel for leading him on. “Of course, Cal.”

“Stay close to me. Don’t wander off by yourself and don’t talk to anyone unless they speak directly to you first.”

Brady had no desire to talk to anyone but Vargas, so he let Cal’s strict instructions slide. He would behave until he could get close enough to shake his hand. That was all that needed to happen. Ken’s program would do the rest.

At least it was quieter up here. If you ignored the sound of floggers and the blood-curdling screams of pain. He followed Cal and took in the large space as he went, making note of all the possible exits out of habit. The place was surprisingly utilitarian—the walls were gray with black trim, the furniture was red and the lights were bright and unflattering. No one cared about aesthetics or ambiance, that was clear. The only decorations were living and begging for mercy.