Authors: Christina Crooks
Rough Play (19 page)
Sure enough, in the line just outside the front door, Peter shoved the battered photo of his daughter into the face of his next victim, a flannel-wearing guy who had numerous silver piercings from eyebrows to chin cleft. Peter’s voice was raised, meant to be heard by as many as possible. “Please. This is Elizabeth. My daughter. Have you seen this girl? Anywhere?”
“That does it.” Martin vibrated with fury.
He barely felt Amethyst’s light touch on his arm. “Hey. I didn’t mean to get you worked up. It’ll be okay. Chill.”
He shook her off, strode to Peter. Took him firmly by the elbow and hauled him away. “You’re causing problems. I’ve asked you nicely. I get your pain. But you can’t just harass people—”
“You get my pain!” Peter reared up. Straightened, he rivaled Martin’s six feet. He wasn’t as frail as he first seemed. Or as old. “You haven’t a clue about my pain. She ran away from home last month. With a disreputable boy. She had every advantage, and now she’s gone. Kidnapped. She’s somewhere in your club.”
“She’s not in Subspace!” Martin exploded. “Don’t you think I’d have seen her by now? After a month? She’s not in there!”
“Last seen inside. Never came out.” Peter began shaking. “Let me in to look.”
“I did. Twice.”
“I might have missed something,” Peter whined. “Elizabeth is very young. You don’t want me going to the police again, saying you let in a minor?”
“My permits are in order, as you found out.”
“Just let me look—”
Martin seized him by his shirt. Shook him. “You are bothering my patrons. I’ve been more than patient. I’ve tried to help you. Over and over again. What do you really want, huh? Is it the club? Is it you, slipping those envelopes in the door, are you the one with the phones . . . ?” Martin shook him back and forth, until the sight of the trembling flesh on Peter’s drunken, desperate face sickened him. Still, Peter stared, his eyes alight with determination, or avarice, or who the hell knew what. Martin didn’t care too much at the moment.
Anger and resentment and frustration filled him. He pulled back his arm to punch the guy.
Amethyst knocked him off balance, making him lose his grip on Peter. “Stop it,” she hissed. “You’re making a fucking scene.”
Peter stumbled back. “It’s your fault!” he yelled. He turned, still shouting over his shoulder. “I know she’s in there. You haven’t seen the last of me!”
“He’s a nutcase.” Martin stared after him, the venom subsiding.
“A nutcase you nearly punched.” Amethyst frankly stared. “Since when do you solve problems with your fists? This makes twice in three days. You slug the street people now? What the hell is the matter with you lately?”
Martin started inside.
She kept pace. “Well?”
“Peter was harassing the patrons. He’ll scare them away.” Martin pushed into the club with a nod to the doorman.
Amethyst followed, raising her voice to be heard over the music. “Well, yeah. But you think knocking him out in front of everyone will result in a collective sigh of relief? What is this actually about? Is it about Charlotte?”
When he wheeled angrily on her, Amethyst squared her shoulders and tilted up her chin. “Go ahead. Take a shot, asshole. The lawsuit will be very helpful. Can’t think of an easier way to pluck this club from you. And the mandatory angermanagement courses will do you good.”
Martin checked his anger with difficulty. Normally he took Amethyst’s bitchy, acerbic wit in stride, but she was pushing it. Really pushing it.
On the other hand, he hadn’t been sure until this moment she wasn’t the one blackmailing him. “Okay, Amethyst. You win. You want an explanation, so sit down and listen. The booth, there.” He didn’t quite shove her into it. He slid in opposite and spoke before she could take offense at his mild manhandling. “Shut up, please,” he instructed as she opened her mouth. “I’m talking now. I’m being blackmailed.”
He told her the details, about the mystery person’s pressure on him to sell Subspace for next to nothing, about the delivered phones, about the threat to mail incriminating photos to his partner at Pavlov’s Pet Joy. “Let me be frank with you. I need money from both that pet supply business and from Subspace for my mother’s hospital bills. If Richard sees those images of me, all he’ll think of is the negative publicity destroying both his reputation and our chance of selling the business to the buyer. But if I sell Subspace at a huge loss to the blackmailer, I’m screwed that way, too.”
She started. “Richard? Richard Corvine, the Petclub tycoon?”
“That’s one of his other companies, yes.” Martin felt tired, suddenly. “Richard Corvine’s about as vanilla as they come. An older, Bible-thumping, politically conservative country-club good ol’ boy. Straight as an arrow. I checked him out.”
“So all that’s why you changed your mind about selling me Subspace.” A small smile played about Amethyst’s lips and her eyes twinkled.
Martin couldn’t imagine what she had to smile about. “Yeah. So now you know. It’s made me a bit short-tempered lately.” He wasn’t going to explain himself further. He felt stung. Why the hell was she smiling? “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you to keep this strictly confidential.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She waved it off. “You should’ve told me sooner.”
Tired of Amethyst’s attitude, Martin stood. “I’ll be in my office. Hi, Ratty.” He walked away without waiting for a reply.
Ratty looked after Martin. “What’s eating him?”
“Just about everything. But we’re about to change all that.”
“Are we?” Ratty remained standing even as he looked hungrily at Amethyst’s well-displayed cleavage. “Maybe I’m not interested. Maybe I’m not at your beck and call anymore. Your fetch-and-carry boy. Your willing sex slave.”
“And maybe you are, if I make it worth your while.” Amethyst widened her eyes at him, mock innocent.
Ratty shook his head. “I’ll probably regret asking. All right. What are we doing, and how will you make it worth my while?” He cocked his head at Amethyst, looking down at her crossed legs, then up to the purple streak in her hair. “Especially that last one.”
“Ratty,” she purred, snaking one long-taloned hand out to grasp his multicolored cloak, dragging him closer. “I’m so glad you asked. See these boots?” She uncrossed her legs, crossed them again in the opposite direction. “These boots were made for licking.”
His reaction was explosive. “No way. Forget it. I’m not licking anything made of latex, leather, or rubber. If you can’t see me as anything but a bottom—”
Her laughter stopped him. “Not you, silly. In fact . . .” She looked at his fierce expression, speculative. “If you help me with something very important, we can try a session together where you top me. Tie me up. Take out some of your problematic frustrations.” She grinned at him. “I’ll play along this time. Promise.”
Ratty slowly grinned back. “That’s more like it.”
20
C
harlotte’s body moved to the rhythm, swaying to the music’s throbbing imperative.
harlotte’s body moved to the rhythm, swaying to the music’s throbbing imperative.
In her black jeans and faded black T-shirt, wearing dark eye makeup and bloodred lipstick, she knew she looked more like the other Subspace patrons: dangerous and ready to play.
She almost smiled as she made her way across the dance floor toward Martin’s office, nodding her head and moving her shoulders and hips ever so slightly in time to the beat. Her hair, long and tamed to straight sleekness, gleamed in the low colored lights. Her black leather boots were old but serviceable.
Martin would be so surprised to see her. Pleasantly, she hoped. The doorman had given her a once-over and let her right in. But when she’d asked for Martin, he’d given her a strange grimace. He’d still pointed the way.
Tonight she meant to make the dirty movies with Martin come to life.
Shivering with anticipation, Charlotte remembered the last time she entered Subspace looking for Gail. Gail’s phone call still struck Charlotte as odd. Odd enough that she found herself checking faces, still looking for her.
She tried to forget Gail. Now that the matchmaking business was stalled without her last client, Charlotte needed to find new ones. Maybe even here, at Subspace.
But first, she had unfinished business with Martin. Or rather, play.
At the end of a short hallway off the main floor, a crack of fluorescent light repelled the eye with its real-world business reminder. Martin’s office, of course.
She made for it.
Though the bass still throbbed, she could hear his voice. Low and respectful. Caring.
A stab of jealousy speared her, unexpected.
Of course Martin had girlfriends. His talent, his charisma, hell, his position as manager of the club ensured he could have a harem of his own if he wanted. And why wouldn’t he? What man wouldn’t?
“I love you, too.”
Her eyes narrowed when she heard the words. Love?
He hung up, and she saw him massaging his temples. Problems in paradise, she thought with mixed feelings as she pushed the door open.
As his gaze snapped to her, scanning her coolly from head to foot with no change in expression, her confidence deserted her. She consciously straightened her shoulders, walked in. “Hi.”
“Back for more?”
It was such a change from his tone of voice on the phone that her back stiffened. Maybe coming here again was a mistake.
He looked down, rearranged paperwork. “I’m glad to see you’re healthy, after leaving with Kartane. Being back with your ex seems to agree with you. But if you’ll excuse me, I have important matters to attend to.”
She poised on the cusp of fleeing again, this time for good.
She looked at his hands, grasping stacks of paper, sliding a finger into manila file folders to open them, tapping receipts with a slow, deliberate gesture.
Charlotte remembered his touch. “I am back for more.”
“He get you all worked up?” he asked, his voice deceptively mild. “And now you’re here to scratch an itch?”
“Don’t be crude. I’m here because of you.”
“I’ll be crude when crude’s called for. You left me for your ex. The one who branded you.” He gave her such a cold stare she stepped back.
“True,” she admitted. “But it’s not the way you think. We’re not back together.”
“It’s not your relationship status I question, it’s your judgment. That man makes normal Goreans look benign. And believe me, that’s an accomplishment. At least when Gail took off with him, I knew she’d tell him off within the first five minutes. He likes to own females ‘for real,’ but the smart ones don’t stick.” His look was pointed.
Charlotte stared at him. “Gail left with Kartane?”
“Just like you did. Even Amethyst did, for a while. And about a dozen others. Is it those big blue eyes? The blond good-looks thing? I don’t get it.”
She frowned. “This is important. Gail left with him?”
He nodded. “They went down into the dungeons. Lots of people around, nothing could’ve happened to her. Like I said, she doubtless left him in the dust as soon as he showed his true colors.”
Charlotte reluctantly had to agree. “She doesn’t put up with very much. She had to have ditched him right away . . . but where did she go from there? Why the weird phone call, then nothing till today?” Charlotte pondered. “Why did she want to come here at all? I don’t know why she even gave you a chance, after your profile didn’t complement hers. She wasn’t looking for a dominant.”
“What was she thinking?” Martin looked honestly curious.
“I suppose she figured she’d reform you.” Charlotte looked at him. A smile threatened, but she controlled it. “Bring you to your knees, show you the error of your ways. That sort of thing. She must’ve been in the mood for a challenge. You’re not a politically active vegetarian, you’re not looking to start a family right away, and you’re way too kinky for her.”
“But not for you?” His voice was warm molasses. A smile quirked his lips, quickly hidden.
She made a show of considering. “I’m afraid not. You’re not nearly kinky enough for me. You’re just a tease, aren’t you? There’s rougher and tougher than you.” Her blood surged and sang in her veins as she deliberately provoked him.
She gave him a ballsy wink.
Before she turned to leave, she was gratified to see his mouth fall open in surprise. “Bye-bye,” she tossed over her shoulder, sauntering out. She gave a little extra sashay to her hips as she opened the door.
He was at her back, grasping a handful of her hair. “Not just yet.” She felt her neck muscles straining as he gathered more hair. The large hardness of his body pressed against her, making his erection painfully evident against her still-bruised rear.
She tried to blink but her eyelids were strained open. “Mmmhmmm?”
His fist moved up and down, making her nod. “Mmmhmmm,” he mocked. He flung her from him, making her stumble, then whirl to face him. “I know exactly what you need. The same thing I do, darlin’. But my way. Not yours.” He gave her a wolfish smile, watching her pause in confusion, clearly enjoying the way she panted with lust. “I’ve got your number, little one.”
“You think so?” She tried desperately to regain a sense of control, even as she paradoxically savored his taking it away from her. Her heart beat so fast it seemed to want to burst out of her chest. Her nipples were rock hard, her pussy wet and wanting. Would he take her now?
He confused her more by simply leaning against his desk. Folded his arms. Smiled knowingly. “So you’re a dating coach. A matchmaker. How do you stay in business, I wonder, if you make a habit of mistakes like matching up Gail and me?”
“Gail’s a difficult case.” Charlotte considered. “Was a difficult case. Business isn’t so good now, partly because I am quite adept at the job. My movie visions never lie.” She resisted an impulse to rub her scalp where he’d pulled her hair. Not because it had hurt, but because it tingled. Alive. She wanted that feeling deep inside, where only his most brutal thrusts would ignite her. But clearly he wasn’t going to ravish her just yet. “I’ve matched up dozens of people. It’s a gift,” she declared, boldly meeting his gaze. “But because of it my clients only stick around and pay me for a little while before they go off together to get married and live happily ever after. Gail was my last client. Who knows what’ll happen to her without my help.”
Her clients’ excitement and happiness when they connected with their soul mate rubbed off on her each and every time. She felt it in the crackle in the air around them at some of the weddings, their happiness conveyed by osmosis.
“What about the movies?” His voice prompted her.
She glanced at him guiltily. She’d just been thinking of the movies starring the two of them. His demanding, naked body. His face twisted with lust.
Now Martin’s gaze, curious and skeptical, encouraged her, but with the graphic images of their violent coupling in her mind, she spoke with forced lightness. “I have X-rated visions, sometimes. Or maybe it’s just a really good imagination.”
When he only raised his eyebrows, inquiring, she continued. “It works in person, and with dating profile photos. Sometimes I just, you know, see people together. I’ll be working with a woman to help find her a date, and I’ll see a guy’s dating profile. And the movie starts. The two of them touching, kissing, making love. Sometimes—usually—it’s pretty graphic. I can see them being intimate.” She let her lips curl up in a smile. “When I see that, I make a strong case for the date, and most of the time they take my advice. And the rest is always history. They meet, they fall into each others’ arms, I lose another client.” She shrugged. “I got a lot of referrals for a while. But it’s tapered off.”
“I take it you didn’t see Gail and I doing the horizontal tango?”
Laughter bubbled up inside her at the thought, but she quickly sobered. “I haven’t seen Gail with anyone yet. She craves a bunch of kids and a husband accessory, but she’s impossibly particular.”
“And what about you?” he asked, his voice soft. “Are you particular?”
“Extremely,” she breathed. “But not impossibly.” He had no idea how appealing he looked to her, reclined like a lord, smiling like the devil.
“Did you see us together, Charlotte? You and I?”
When he levered himself up and started toward her, no power on earth could have stopped her from gasping.
He only grinned. “Let’s go on a walkabout, shall we? Put your talent to the test here at Subspace. If you convince me, I’ll introduce you to a bunch of single friends of mine who’ll be very interested in your kind of professional help.”
“I don’t have to prove anything to you.” She looked at him in dismay. This was not going the way she’d planned. She wanted to act out their movie, not watch new ones.
“You don’t have to do anything,” he agreed. “I’d never force a lady against her will. Unless she wanted me to.” He winked, a mirror image of the wink she’d given him earlier.
She had to laugh. She let him lead her back to the dance floor and the bar beyond. Her gaze took in the grinding couples, the gyrations of singles, the clump of thirsty club-goers waiting for the bartender’s attention. Her gaze snagged on the bartender.
“Him. That bartender. And . . . huh. Interesting.” Charlotte peered from the whipcord-thin, long-haired bartender—more hippy than goth—to the enormous black bouncer who’d tangled with Ratty two nights before. “Yeah. Him and the big bouncer who wants to be his submissive. You should see what I’m seeing. Now there’s a movie.”
She felt Martin’s body convulse with laughter before registering the sound. The movie was drawing most of her attention. How very odd to see the powerful bouncer on his belly, his large, muscular ass stuck up in the air like that. And the skinnier bartender covering him, handling him with a grace and strength that made the cords of his forearms stand out. “Wow. He’s strong for his size. Huh,” she said again, then focused on Martin. “What?”
He gave her an open-mouthed grin, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “I knew it. They’ve been hiding it from me. Afraid I’d think it’s a conflict of interest and fire one of them.”
“You won’t, will you?” She rounded on him. “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”
“No. I won’t. So long as they’re discreet and it doesn’t affect their work. They’re so busy hiding it that they’re my hardest workers.” He smiled, unrepentant. “I took Tyro over there for a switch, though. All that bouncer bluster. He can be pretty intimidating.”
“I don’t think Amethyst believes in switches. Ratty is one, though. I’ve seen them.”
“Ratty and Amethyst?” Martin stared. “Those two are meant to be together?” He shook his head with small, regretful smile. “I want to believe that, but I think you just blew your credibility. He needs more topping with her, but she won’t give him the respect a top needs.”
“No. I’m sure of it.” Charlotte remembered the images. It was beyond doubt. Amethyst performing disciplinary moves on Ratty, and torturing him, but she’d seen Ratty working on Amethyst, too, in an undeniably toppish role.
She relayed the movie she’d seen of him with the Christmasthemed pins, and the other intimacies indicating a more flexible power exchange. Some of the back-and-forth and sexual combinations wouldn’t have seemed possible to her if she wasn’t watching them right there on the movie screen in her mind. “They might not know it yet. Couples often don’t, at first. But they’ve got lifetime potential.”
“Amethyst and Ratty.” He smiled, wondering. “You’re right, he doesn’t want to be just a bottom. But can Amethyst hand him the reins, I wonder?”
“She will eventually.”
“You sound certain. So, tell me. Did you ever see yourself with Kartane?”
The question was so unexpected, Charlotte answered without thinking. “Never.” Was Martin jealous? Was he in any position to be jealous? Was he even available? His conversation she’d interrupted had sounded fairly intimate. “By the way, who were you on the phone with earlier?”
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