Hearts Under Fire (6 page)

Clark’s baggage was the only issue. And he certainly knew how to deal with that.

Practice does, indeed, make perfect.

***

Eating his lunch, Daniel watched Clark’s ramrod-straight figure march away. The tension in Clark’s body told Daniel that the bartender was hiding something behind the all-business attitude. Thoughtfully, Daniel chewed the last of his pizza, tossed his dishes and the half-eaten piece Clark had left, and went to the front counter with the untouched slices.

“Want a box for that, Prof?” Andrew asked, leaning against the counter.

Looking up at the menu board, Daniel said, “Yes, please, but I might as well have the box include a pizza as well. How about a large Kitchen Sink?”

“Meeting?” Andrew laughed.

“You know my kids far too well,” Daniel said, with a wry grin.

“Sure thing, Prof. Hand over those slices. I’ll heat ‘em up for you. Did the gray-haired guy not like his food?” Andrew asked when Daniel handed over the plate.

“He seemed to, but then he started talking business. I guess that put him off,” Daniel said, Then he realized that he didn’t believe that at all. Daniel knew how to read people, and Clark didn’t have the look of a man who’d been there for business. When Daniel had asked about the blackmail possibilities, Clark had covered the panic in his eyes with the smooth delivery of the pass into Break, but only barely.

The whole thing still didn’t add up.

Daniel mulled everything over as he paid Michelle, took the giant box, and walked back to the department building. Balancing everything on one hand, Daniel reached for the handle with the other, and was taken aback when the heavy door swung open for him.

“Hey, Danny,” said Bernard Wilson, looking very stolid in his campus security uniform, as opposed to the rumpled suit and tie he’d had on at the wedding. All of Daniel’s police family and step-family had been there. Bernard was an ex-cop, and he, his wife, and his children were all good friends of Daniel’s uncle, aunt, and their kids. “Looked like you could use some help there.”

“Thanks, Mr. Wilson.”

“No problem.” Bernard touched his fingers to his cap and entered the security office. Bulletproof glass allowed Bernard to see into the main entry way, but the door was closer to the entrance than the glass. People could get into the office without ever going in front of the glass, and that made no defensive sense to Daniel; however, every time he brought it up at staff meetings, there simply weren’t the funds to change it.

Daniel continued up the double-wide stairs, flowing with all the students going up to classes. At the top, he went right and found Ashley, Derek, Laurie, and Anne outside his office.

When they spotted Daniel coming down the hall, dark-haired Derek Wells whooped and jumped into the air with a fist pump. “All right! Pizza! You got drinks?”

“Nope. Go ahead and get some,” Daniel said, and Derek ran off. “Paul’s not here yet?”

Everyone shook their heads.

“Let’s use room two-nineteen,” Daniel suggested.

Ashley Davis flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder, opening the door and holding it for everyone as they all trooped in. Daniel neatly maneuvered the huge box through the narrow doorway and deposited it on the table. Derek came flying in two minutes later with six cans of soda in his large hands and a stack of paper plates from Daniel’s office. Derek loaded his own plate and dropped into one of the chairs.

“What the hell’s up, boss?” Anne Carter pulled a slice onto her plate and took a bite, her teeth white against her dark skin.

“Pop quiz results,” Daniel said, opening a soda for himself. “I’d like for you and Paul to give your input. I need more minds to help me figure out what to do, but it’s not required if you need to get back to your thesis after lunch.”

Anne and Paul were Daniel’s research assistants, helping out in the lab and doing advanced work of their own. The others managed Daniel’s classes as teaching assistants, taking the burden of class paperwork and answering basic questions. He couldn’t do his job without them.

Anne laughed. “Ha. Like I could eat a slice, hear a fucking problem, and leave without solving it.”

Daniel grinned back. “I was hoping that would be the case.”

The door opened and skinny Paul Roberts peeked in, glasses flashing, nostrils widening.

“Don’t let him catch you, too!” Anne said. “TA problems on RA time!”

Paul paused, distaste clear on his face. “I’m no babysitter.”

“Don’t be such a prick,” Derek said, his feet up on the table. “It’s the problem definition section. Prof needs our help.” Then his voice dropped. “You know you want it,” he teased.

Daniel watched, fascinated, as Paul looked anywhere but at him and blushed.

“Right, yeah, pizza. Haven’t had lunch yet.” Paul trailed off.

Ashley’s eyes rolled. Then Paul grabbed some pizza, obviously pretending that the food was what Derek was talking about, and settled in a seat.

Daniel went to the white board and presented the results of the last quiz from memory. His kids brainstormed ideas on how to cover the material the students had missed, and an hour later at his desk, Daniel wrote class instruction notes for himself for the following week. He emailed handouts, homework assignments, and a copy of next week’s quiz to his TAs. He sat back and sighed. It was only three, and he had no more scheduled meetings or deadlines before Monday.

Frowning, Daniel considered the fact that tomorrow night, Clark would be showing him around Break. It was very clear from their conversation over lunch that Clark knew more about him than he knew about Clark. Knowledge became power far too often, and Daniel felt he knew too little about the inquisitive bartender.

Now he had the time and resources to fix that problem. Daniel settled and started doing
his
kind of research into the life and history of one Maxwell Clark.

Chapter 4

A pleasant breeze blew through the trees and across the parking lot next to Bliss. Clark shivered, goosebumps breaking out on his arms as he leaned against his Jaguar. It was fifteen minutes until nine. Clark wanted to arrive early to make sure he beat Daniel, should the professor be the chronically early type. Smirking, Clark suspected the man would be here any moment, and he watched for Daniel’s Tesla. Knowing things like what Daniel drove helped him feel like he still had the upper hand.

Or, at least, the keep-your-distance hand.

After the lunch fiasco, Clark had gone home and changed for a trip to Green Dojo. On his way out the door, Clark spied his calendar and froze. April thirtieth was right around the corner. Normally he felt that date approaching like people felt the beginnings of the flu: lethargic, cranky, and in need of a dark sickroom for a few days.

Because of the Daniel distraction, the date had snuck up on Clark this year, and that explained so damned much that Clark nearly collapsed in relief.

April thirtieth was the date Clark lost an eye, his first choice in career, and...

Him. You lost him that day, too.

In a strange mixture of calm, grateful, and numb, Clark went to the dojo. He trained hard and came away with a mind almost completely consumed with new aches, pains, and bruises. Clark texted Heather to tell her he wouldn’t be coming into Glow, ate well, and went to bed early. He didn’t dream and woke up the next morning eight hours richer in sleep. He warmed up, ran ten miles in the cool fog of morning, and was pleasantly surprised when the first real thought he had came to him in the shower.

You lost focus. Daniel, like you, is good at what he does. And maybe he reminds you just a little of what you lost. There’s nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong at all. Identify, strategize, and solve, Clark.

By the time Clark fumbled in his closet to get dressed to meet Daniel at Break, he was mostly good with what had happened at Orsino’s, and with what Daniel called forth in Clark’s brain.

Professor Germain was a professional dom. He was obviously intelligent, good at understanding people, intuitive, and someone Clark had a hard time reading. All traits of a man good with being on top.

Germain rejected Clark, he assumed, because Clark didn’t sub and rarely bottomed. Clark was as aware of his own reputation as he was of others, and Daniel’s words and actions had confirmed that for Clark at the bar and at Orsino’s.

Since Daniel didn’t sub or bottom, either, all hopes of anything like a relationship had met a quiet death. Clark regretted that -- and in admitting the regret, he found some relief.

It was okay to regret the fact that he couldn’t be with someone who was obviously a force of nature. And hot. Never forget the hot. And brilliant. Ah, yes, that was nice, too. Kind, perceptive, and those
eyes
.

After much chuckling at his hormonal self, Clark went on to theorize that it was a combination of that regret and the fact that Daniel was very good at inspiring the need to please that left Clark feeling off his game. Add to that Clark’s difficulty reading Daniel and the date of April thirtieth, and hell, it was a wonder Clark wasn’t already seeking sweet oblivion with two bottles of whiskey.

Understanding all that helped Clark organize his mind and put memories back into their cages. Daniel was a job: a friendly kind of job, to be sure, and Clark relished the idea that he could help Daniel out by introducing him at Break. That made him feel good -- and there was nothing wrong or unusual about that, either. He liked helping others whom he respected. Daniel was certainly worthy of Clark’s respect, and there was nothing wrong with liking such a person. It made the job easier, after all.

Clark would just need to guard himself better around Daniel. He needed to nix this crush, and he needed to get through tonight without burdening the guy with any more of his emotional bullshit. Daniel already seemed worried about Clark, and that was unacceptable.

Shifting to cross his arms as he leaned against his car, Clark smiled as he recalled his image earlier tonight, standing naked in his apartment in front of a full-length mirror. In one hand, he’d held a wad of fabric headed toward the reject pile. And when he caught sight of his reflection, Clark paused, went still, and thought of beaches and tides. Closing his eyes, it was easy to recall the feeling of sand under his body as the water came in. As a child, every trip to the beach found his mother under an umbrella, his father absent, and Clark lying just where the waves broke and buried his small, tanned form. Inevitably some good Samaritan would drag Clark away from the water, scolding and asking where in the world his parents might be.

But before Clark got so rudely interrupted, he would lie on his back with his eyes closed, feeling sun and salt warming and chafing his skin. He loved the way the water moved over him, found it fascinating and inevitable. Clark remembered the way the water would cover his face, the odd peace that came when he couldn’t breathe for a moment.

Ten minutes later, Clark had opened his eyes and continued to get dressed. He went for simple, as it suited his mood. The velvet, blood-red vest had black buckles that criss-crossed the back. The deep vee of the neckline stopped an inch above his solar plexus, and the three black buttons on the front were linked with small pieces of silver chain.

To go with the vest, Clark slid on a pair of snug black pants. Black and silver buckles ran down both legs, stopping mid-calf. They clung low enough on his hips that flashes of skin stood out between vest and waistband when he walked. Clark took a length of small-test chain and wrapped it twice as a belt. He grabbed a pair of black combat boots and laced them up his calves so they stopped just below the last buckle on the pants. Over all of it, he threw on a lightweight duster. Clark was never one for jewelry, but he did cinch on his wide-band leather wristwatch that mimicked a manacle just enough to amuse him. Besides, cell phones weren’t allowed in Break, and the watch would serve its true purpose along with its decorative one.

Clark threw together dinner, cleaned up the mess, and then headed down to the garage he rented along with the loft. The Jag offered a nice, lulling ride, and Clark kept the windows down along the way. He breathed deeply and evenly and felt like his usual self when he pulled around the stone-and-stained-glass structure of Bliss to find a parking space toward the very back. Two safety lights gleamed overhead, and Clark opted to wait out in the cool air as opposed to inside the car.

Being so early, the only other cars in the lot when Clark arrived were Lucian’s and a few other staff members’ vehicles that Clark recognized. While he waited, three other members pulled up, one with a new boy in tow and the other two by themselves. Clark nodded and waved at them all, enjoying the appreciative gaze Tristan flashed at him. He looked forward to seeing Tristan work over his choice of sub later in the evening; it was always a good show.

The breeze rustled the trees nearby, and Clark calmly watched and waited.

***

Daniel stood in front of the mirror and tried to sooth nerves that were making his stomach knot. He knew what crazy could be in the world of kink. This was not even close.

A sleeveless, silk mesh shirt, shimmering with deep-water blues, greens, and hints of silver, clung closely to his torso. All the practice he did with impact tools showed itself in the lean lines of his upper body. Daniel wanted something other than the basic black so many BDSM people wore, and the mesh allowed the koi tattoo that wrapped about his left side to glimmer like a ghost amid the waters.

Daniel paired the shirt with dark blue leather pants laced at the top with diagonal straps that hugged his hips. Buckles held on the front pockets and emulated chaps. The blue wouldn’t show in the low lighting, but after Clark’s reaction to his eyes, Daniel wondered what Clark would think. He looked at his shoes and went with simple, steel-toed industrial boots.

“Shit. It’s as if I’m dressing for a date, not a business meeting,” he said, glowering at himself in the mirror. He thought about tossing it all and just wearing a pinstripe suit with sapphire silks, but he also didn’t want to appear a complete fool.

“Fuck it,” Daniel muttered, and broke out the eyeliner, laying a deep blue line.

He sighed at himself and threw on a black leather duster, remembering Clark’s instructions about the walk. He left his small professor’s bungalow, slid into his Tesla, and pulled out of the driveway.

The GPS told Daniel he’d be ten minutes early, but Bliss was across town, and he wanted to account for traffic. Once he was through town, a four-lane highway brought him out to the mountains, and he found the turn-off for Bliss Road.

When he started up the deserted mountain road, Daniel let caution fly and pushed the Tesla all out, delighting in the handling and the constant torque of the electric engine. The road twisted and curved, right on the edge of a ridge, and each W-turn of the road brought a new, spectacular view of the city below. Daniel didn’t let the nimble car slide for each turn, but he knew he was close as the tires protested. He loved the dance up the road, more for the precise control he had of his vehicle than any adrenaline rush at the speed.

When a car showed up in front of him, Daniel stayed on its tail until there was an empty hundred-yard straightaway. Then he floored it, and it seemed as if the other car stood still. Smiling, Daniel braked for the next turn and caught his rhythm again. When the road turned, it led to a cathedral on the mountain top. White stone lit by floodlights soared into the sky.

When he reached the entrance to the Bliss parking lot, Daniel slowed down. Glancing at the GPS, Daniel realized he was still ten minutes early. He shrugged. Early was better than late, and he could wait. Daniel remembered Clark’s directions and went around to the right. When he approached what seemed to be impassable trees, he saw a connector snaking down to another, lower lot. That was when Daniel saw the black Jaguar with a man leaning against it. Daniel pulled past the low-slung car and smoothly backed the Tesla into the space to the left of the Jag.

Daniel turned off the car with a press of a button, pulled the electronic card key and tucked it into his wallet. Excitement, nerves, and anticipation surged, and he balanced on top with practiced ease. This was no different from any first impression with a client; he just wasn’t going to do anything to anyone. He got out and looked over to see that it was, indeed, Clark.

“I’m not late, am I?” Daniel asked.

Clark’s eyes lingered on Daniel just enough to raise Daniel’s hopes.

“Nope,” Clark said with a shake of his head, pushing away from his car and heading toward the sidewalk. He looked over his shoulder at Daniel. “I figured you’d be early, so I thought I’d schedule appropriately.”

“It was accidental,” Daniel said ruefully. “I didn’t mean to be early, but that ridge road is spectacular.”

Daniel admired Clark’s easy swing of step and posture far too much. Gray and white hair gleamed in the low light from either side of the path, and Daniel wondered what it would feel like to run his hands through it.

Stop it, damnit. For having so much pride in your self-control, you’d better get some back.

Daniel hurried so that he was beside Clark, and he tried to see through the trees. “About how far is it?”

“Not far, really,” Clark said. “Just wanted the entrance to be far enough away from the lot that people think it’s a utility building. So Tim tells me.”

A squat, stone structure came into view ahead. Two lights were attached to the wall, and no door was visible from the path.

“There we are,” Clark said, nodding.

“That’s the way in?” Daniel asked curiously, and walked up to the wall.

Clark laughed and surprised Daniel by grabbing his arm. “Other side, Professor,” he said gently. Daniel tensed and cursed in his head as, hand still on Daniel’s arm, Clark led them around to the other side of the building.

Two mammoth men in black suits, shirts, and ties stood guarding a set of doors. Beyond was a small room lit with an industrial chandelier that hung over a set of stairs leading down into the earth.

“Master Clark,” said one of the guards. Daniel was surprised to see both men wearing sunglasses at night. “Good to see you, Sir.” The guard spoke without moving anything but his mouth.

“Gentlemen,” Clark said. “Good to see you’re blocking those dangerous moonlight rays and holding up this wall with sheer force of willpower and intimidation.”

The other suit chuckled. “Go on in, Sir. You, too, Master Germain.”

Nodding his thanks to the guard, Daniel forced himself forward, still in Clark’s grasp. He knew the other man meant well, just as Clark had meant well with the terse list of instructions and recommendations at lunch, but it was hard going for Daniel; he was relieved when Clark finally let go.

“Be careful of the stairs,” Clark said. “They’re narrow, and I damn near trip over my own feet if I’m not careful.”

Daniel nodded as anger and adrenaline rushed through him. It wasn’t fair of him to take his own emotional turmoil out on Clark. Daniel could only bring himself to say, “Thanks.”

“It’s why I’m here,” Clark said calmly as his foot hit the last stair, and they entered a long tunnel. Clark whistled as they passed by piping and beneath overhead lighting.

“We call this the Gauntlet,” Clark said, as they approached double doors at the far end of the passageway. “It leads from the Tomb to the club, itself.”

“Is there another way into Break?” Daniel asked, pausing with Clark.

“There’s a door from the personnel offices upstairs in Bliss, but that’s for the staff or for event nights when everyone’s here by invitation. And you need one of these.” Clark reached for his pocket and removed what appeared to be a set of dog tags. Inscribed on one was a bas-relief of a rose. On the other was simply “Clark” etched in black, block letters.

“We all get specialized pass keys,” Clark explained, waving the tags in front of a sensor next to the door. It beeped, and Clark stepped into the hallway beyond, turning to look at Daniel. “You will, too, should you decide to become a member.”