The Darkest Corners (The Club Book 4) (3 page)

THREE

Stepping off the bus, Liam immediately shook his head. The little upscale town was nearly too cute for words. It had that pioneer frontier feel to it, with buildings lining the main street he could see standing on either side of a dirt road with horses moseying around under the command of their riders. The wrought iron railings on the second and third floor showed an odd French influence, as if someone had fled from New Orleans to this sleepy little town trying to recreate the charm.

But now, instead of hitching posts and horseback, there were wrought iron street lamps and modern cars. People hurried from Starbucks and the picturesque Gap to the parking lots where their shiny new Lexus or Corvette waited for them. Mothers herded children into SUVs and Minivans, in a strange reminder of the cattle-ranching days.

The main street was preserved as a throwback, but he could see a few blocks over there were some medium rise buildings, ten storeys, maybe fifteen. A few looked like offices, but there were definitely a few that were apartment buildings.

He turned and walked the other direction. There was no way he was going to find a place that he could afford in that direction. The job he was here to do paid well, but not that well. As he walked down the intricate interlocked brick sidewalk, Liam started to get the feeling that he was going to have a hard time finding a place to stay anywhere near the center of the town. The room he was staying in for a few nights was down at the end of the main street—thank God for AirBnB. He would have wound up in the Shady Pines Rent-a-Room.

There had been too much of that shady hotel crap, thanks.

The temperature in Karim was already on the rise for mid-May, forecast to be nearly eighty-two degrees. Very different from the cool, damp fifty-eight he’d left behind in Chicago. It was going to take time to get used to the heat.

The trees around him were in full leaf as he headed through the town. He started counting the ways it was different from all of his other jobs that he’d held over the past five years. Contract to contract he had gone from Seattle, Los Angeles, New York, Boston, Atlanta, a little town in South Dakota called Tea, and then to Chicago.

In all of those places, he’d searched and searched for a reason to stay, but he couldn’t find one. He didn’t hate any of those places. All of them had been interesting and filled with interesting people. The jobs had all been good, the pay had been generous. His nomad lifestyle didn’t allow him to accumulate things; he never knew where he would end up next.

Next, for now, was Karim.

The main street had turned from a busy commerce center into a tree lined residential area. Dotted along the street, between newer houses, were the Gothic and Victorian and Edwardian mansions. Floor-to-ceiling windows, wrap-around porches, grand sweeping driveways that would have allowed for horse and carriage in an earlier age.

The address he’d been given by AirBnB was across the street, and he spotted the house. A Gothic mansion, probably close to a hundred and seventy years old. It had a sign out front declaring that it was a Guest House, and that made Liam feel a little better. There would be people coming and going, and probably breakfast.

In less than an hour, he was back out on the street. He had to find his new work place, so that when he had to be there the next day at nine, he wasn’t meandering through the quaint town. He had been informed that there was no sign, but the building was prominent and there was a street number by the entrance.

There had been quite a few questions asked, but the answers were elusive at best. Still, the money was right and the information had all come back clean. The job was fairly straight forward: install a better biometrics and tracking system. The budget was ‘get it done’. He was one of the best with advanced biometrics, it had been his first contract in Seattle and he followed with it as he moved from place to place. The job in Atlanta had been pure biometrics, and he loved it.

And now he was here. He still wasn’t completely clear on what the company did, but they had sought him out and offered him unlimited budget and very good bank. Perhaps enough to finally start all those important retirement accounts that he kept hearing about.

The oddest thing about the job, though, had to be the NDA. He hadn’t expected to find that in the paperwork packet. He was always discrete anyway, but that they wanted it signed in triplicate was a bit of a surprise. The money was good; he’d put his name on it and sent it back.

Liam found the address and was underwhelmed by the building. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. The building was gorgeous, with false windows shuttered on the first level, and two balconies above them, wrought iron wrapping around the building. The windows that he could see on the second floor were real windows with the shutters closed. The door was on the main street, and it was solid wood, giving it an almost medieval look.

There was a sign on the right of the door with some hours and a door bell. But the sign explained that the door should be open for happy hour. Liam grabbed the handle and pulled, and was rewarded with the door swinging open.

He could use a beer after the ride.

To say that the entrance of the place was intimidating was probably a gross understatement. Everything was done in blacks and gold and dark woods, and the woman at the hostess desk was dressed in the tiniest little outfit he’d ever seen, completely pulling his attention away from the rest of his assessment.

“Good afternoon, sir. How can we help you?”

“I’m just looking for a beer.”

The woman looked him up and down. “You’re really not dressed for The ClubThe Club, sir.”

“Oh.” He looked down at his jeans and button-down. “What is the dress code?”

“Business casual for happy hour, sharp and smart for evenings.”

He wasn’t getting in for a beer right now. “Let me ask you then, what door do employees use? This was the only one I saw.”

“Sir, unless you’re a member here or an employee…”

“I am an employee, sort of,” he said. “Liam Dunfrees. I’ll be starting Monday on upgrading the security systems.”

“Ah.” She nodded and picked up the phone. She turned away from him as she spoke, her voice quiet and difficult to hear. It was a short conversation, and she replaced the phone a moment later. “Mister Dunfrees, please feel free to enjoy our Happy Hour. A dress code exception will be made this time, but please be aware that we do have one and do try to enforce it.”

Liam nodded and stepped into the rest of The Club.

He was speechless.

What the hell have I gotten into?

*  *  *

Liam Dunfrees was a
man
.

Tally was delighted as he stepped into The Club, his jaw dropping as he looked around, giving her a wonderful view of the whole package. There was nothing nerdy or geeky or techie about him—he was six foot one of pure, well built, trim male. She had truly been expecting something like a lost relic of the early ‘90s who clicked his pen and screamed, “I am inveencible!”

That this contractor she had hired was easy on the eyes was all bonus. He walked to the bar, staring around, agape at what The Club was. That reaction was what she and Jet had planned for the main room.

Sitting down, he finally turned around and looked at her. “Hi.”

Tally smiled. Even of the timbre of his voice was smooth and warm, and she was delighted to see that his eyes were that comfortable, vivid chocolate that caught hers and pulled her in. “Hello. A little underdressed for The Club, aren’t you?”

“I was warned,” he answered. “I had an exception made for me.”

Tally was so very glad that she did. “What can I get you?”

“Something cold on tap,” Liam said, nodding at the taps.

“Strong or mild?”

“Midrange to strong,” he answered. “Preferably local.”

Tally nodded. “Velvet Hammer.” She pointed to the tap. “Local, strong, imperial red.”

“Red?” His voice was surprised. “I’ve only had Imperial stouts.”

“You’ll like this, then.” Tally held the cooled glass under the tap. “I haven’t seen you around town before. New?”

“Just got off the bus about two hours ago,” he said. Shit, she wanted this man to keep talking. His tenor hit all the right spots in her body.

“Where were you coming from?”

“Chicago. I’m grateful for the warmth.”

Tally laughed. “So was I, until August happened.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” His laughter was melodic and deep.

“What’s brought you here?”
Please, keep talking
.

“A job, here actually,” he answered, looking around. “What is this place? Why—”

“This is The Club. We are the only club like this in a very large radius and we have a very exclusive clientele.”

“Just The Club?”

“Just The Club.” Tally put the glass on the counter for him and watched him study it. He held it to the light and turned the glass. He took a drink through the foam, clearly familiar with good beers and how to drink them.

A moment later and a nod of satisfaction, he put the beer back on the counter. “Good stuff.”

“One of my favorites.” Tally wiped the counter and headed down to another customer looking for a refill. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Liam at the bar. He was curious and appalled at the same time. The Club wasn’t something that the casual drinker or bar troll would expect.

She and Jet had spent months designing the place. He had brought his sense of aesthetic and connections in the town of Karim and she had brought her knowledge of the lifestyle. They had meshed perfectly, and The Club had rocketed into success. Tally knew there were many, many who were curious about BDSM, but were in no way ready for what it was, or even remotely interested in really learning. And at the same time, there were also many who were genuine in their curiosity and were compatible in some form with the lifestyle. Maybe not fully integrated, but was something they could indulge in once in a while.

There was nothing more important to her than to make sure people who were really curious were introduced correctly. And because of that, she worked the bar at Happy Hour and on Friday night for open house. Friday night was the only night they opened to non-members. The rest of the time, the doors were strictly controlled.

The first floor, however, while it was a membership area, was more restricted. Beebee the bartender was one of the most popular main-floor bartenders. She was proud of that, and it was her chance to find the people who belonged further up in The Club.

Over the past eighteen months of operation, they had found and brought in at least one new high-floor member every week. There were people who came from quite far away to find out more, but it was only her inconspicuous assessments of them that they got anywhere within The Club. Tally knew that it sounded somewhat greedy when she laid it out like that, but the real satisfaction she got from it were the sounds of screaming pleasure behind the closed, and occasionally open, doors on the upper levels of The Club.

There was nothing better in the world than discovering a person’s real needs and having them filled at an expert hand. She was even happier when it happened at her hand.

All things considered, Liam was taking The Club well. He hadn’t run, he wasn’t staring like a pervert, he wasn’t trying to hit on the women and or men who were there. He watched.

Tally made some mental checkmarks. Curious, fazed but not freaked, a taste for good drink, distressed by dress code but not put off, reserved, and interested. Handsome was in the bonus column.

Tally made her way back to him, taking care of other customers and the occasional employee. When she was behind the bar, every employee knew she was Beebee. Not Tally
Fremanis, part owner. And she wanted to keep it that way.

“So, what kind of club is this?” Liam asked, nursing his beer.

“What kind of club do you think it is?”

He glanced around again and took a sip before answering.
Add thoughtful to the check list.
“A…um…well, kink club. Or at least, one that caters to the crowd.”

“Very astute,” she praised.

“The half naked waitstaff with whips and crops kind of gave that one away.” Tally laughed at that. “Well, hey. I’m nothing if not observant. Is it a kink club? Or does it just have the façade of one? Are there dungeons in the basement?”

“I’m not at liberty to say, Mister…”

“Dunfrees, but please call me Liam.”

“Liam.” She nodded, accepting his name. “I’m just the bartender.”

“And you are?”

“Beebee.”

Liam reached his hand across the bar top. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Same here.” His hand was soft, but the handshake was pleasantly firm and warm, and the touch of his skin on hers set a buzz through her whole body. She wanted to lean across the bar, pull him in close and make demands at those sensual lips he was licking the beer from. Oh, the things she would do to him—

Someone across the bar signaled for her, breaking into her fantasy. “I have to take care of these people, and it’s about to get busy. But come back tomorrow night, Liam, dressed properly. I’ll get permission to give you a tour so you know where you’re going when you get here on Monday.” Liam nodded and headed to the other end of the bar. She hoped he’d be back.