Beneath the Scars Page 18

  “They’re rotating every half an hour. It’s good discipline for them, having to stay immobile, no matter what happens.” Ghost deliberately smacked his cane over a bare thigh.

  The male submissive’s eyes dilated with pleasure as he held perfectly still and absorbed the stinging pain.

  “They’re improving,” Ghost said with a faint smile.

  The circle of submissive “tables” brightened at the hard-ass Dom’s words. If they could have wiggled in pleasure without earning punishment, they would have.

  After eating a couple of quiches from one face-up table, Holt started to move away, but Ghost shook his head. “Reward the table for being a good girl.”

  With a huffed laugh, Holt drew the two sharp toothpicks in a slow line down her bare stomach, increasing the pressure as he went…until the happy masochist moaned in pleasure.

  “Good,” Ghost told Holt, and then slapped the cane across the subbie’s breast in reprimand. “Tables do not make noise.”

  She quivered her delight at the added pain…silently.

  Nodding to Ghost, Holt moved on.

  Josie was still missing from the bar. As Holt crossed the lawn, he noticed a Dom was using a tall wooden frame for a suspension scene. Beautifully meticulous rope work patterned the submissive who was already well on her way into subspace. Nice.

  Near the scene, Anne lay on her side on a long lounge, one hand on her gravid belly as she watched. Kneeling on the grass, Ben was feeding her grapes.

  Holt slowed. “Io, Saturnalia, you two. How goes the countdown to delivery?”

  “You just had to ask, didn’t you?” Anne pushed a lock of brown hair back and scowled. “I wanted the baby to come early. But noooo. This kind of fucking behavior does not bode well for our future mother-child relationship.”

  As Ben tried to cover his grin, his Mistress backhanded him in the belly hard enough to get an oomph. “It’s not funny.”

  Giving up the struggle, Ben roared with laughter. “Yeah, it is.” When he took her hand and kissed her fingers, her glare softened.

  “Mistress Anne, I have your drinks.”

  Hearing the light Texas accent in a husky voice, Holt felt his spirits lift. He turned.

  Josie’s attire looked vaguely Roman. Her white halter-tie sundress had a gold metallic rope tied below her breasts. The sprinkling of freckles on her bare shoulders cried out to be kissed.

  As she set drinks on the low table beside the food, Holt smiled at her. “I didn’t know you waited tables.”

  “I make exceptions for women who carry our next generation.” Her glance at him was cool, her tone even colder.

  What the fuck? Holt gave her a long look. The last time they’d spoken was Tuesday when she’d walked him to the door after supper and acting out the book’s action scene. Out of sight of Carson and Stella, he’d taken himself a long, warm kiss—which she had enthusiastically returned.

  Tonight, she acted as if she’d be happy to walk over his corpse. In stilettos.

  Turning away, she patted Anne’s shoulder. “I remember my last month of pregnancy. My feet hurt, I needed to pee constantly, and I walked like a penguin. I just wanted the nine months to be done.”

  Anne grinned. “You nailed it.”

  “Josie,” Ben said, “I’m capable of fetching drinks for my Mistress.”

  “I know, but I’d rather you stay beside her.” Josie glanced around. “Out here, if she needed help, it’s possible no one would hear her yell.”

  She made sense. Scenes were going on around the perimeter of the lawn as well as farther back in the secluded nooks of the Capture Gardens. Considering the screams, groans, and shouts of pain, one more yell might go unnoticed. So Josie had carried Anne and Ben’s drinks over herself. She had a caring heart.

  And she still wasn’t looking at him. Hmm. He stepped in front of her as she started to leave. “How is bartending going tonight?”

  “It’s busy enough that I need to get back. Enjoy your evening.” Her nod to him could be considered polite…if a man didn’t mind having his balls frozen off. With a quick sidestep, she moved around him and away.

  Anne looked up. “All right, Holt, what did you do to our new bartender?”

  “The way she talked to you, she could have iced the drinks without adding the cubes,” Ben said.

  “Very funny.” Holt watched Josie take her place behind the makeshift bar. As she chatted with members ordering drinks, her smile lacked the joy and enthusiasm normally present. “Unfortunately, I don’t know what I did.”

  “I hate when that happens,” Ben said seriously. “Women.”

  Anne raised an eyebrow. “Don’t make me hurt you, guard dog.”

  “Mistress, I’m fucking looking forward to when you can,” Ben said, his voice a low rumble.

  “Oh, me, too. It’s been forever.” She heaved a frustrated sigh before turning her attention back to Holt. “We’re having a barbecue tomorrow afternoon if you’re free.”

  Wasn’t she due…like now? Without thinking, he looked at her belly.

  Ben barked a laugh. “Yeah, the gathering is a last minute deal, mostly to keep someone from stewing.”

  Holt didn’t even have to think. “Sure. Want me to bring something?”

  “Yes.” Anne smiled slowly. “Bring the bartender if you manage to get back into her good graces.”

  “I’ll do that.” Holt patted Anne’s shoulder gently and headed for the bar.

  When a honey-smooth deep voice said her name, Josie turned with a smile…and wanted to smack herself. Holt.

  In a black vest, black T-shirt, and black jeans, he leaned on the bar. As he smiled at her, she saw he hadn’t shaved. His beard stubble, shades darker than his hair, shadowed the stern line of his jaw.

  And why was she noticing that?

  She lifted her chin. “Good evening. What can I get you?”

  It was annoying that her mouth wanted to add “Sir” to the end of the sentence.

  “Answers would be good, thank you,” he said politely, despite the unyielding expression in his gaze. “When’s your break?”

  “I-I’m not a-available for anything.” She firmed her voice back to cold. “My break time isn’t your concern.”

  “I see.” He glanced behind him at the closest sitting area where several people were gathered. “Raoul, can you babysit the bar for fifteen? The bartender and I need to chat.”

  “Of course, my friend.” The Dom’s Hispanic accent was familiar, but she didn’t remember meeting him. His black leather vest couldn’t conceal the thick muscles of a bodybuilder…or the gold band around his arm.

  Wait, was he the Dom who’d helped release her from the restraints last weekend? When she was naked? She felt herself flush.

  Raoul—Master Raoul—reached down to the slender brunette kneeling beside him. “Come, gatita. We have work to do.”

  “Yes, Master.” The woman with vibrant blue eyes took his hand and rose.

  And Josie was losing control of the situation. No. No, she wasn’t going to get pressured into a…chat. She set her hands on her hips. “Listen, Master Holt, I’m an employee here and not at your beck and call for a chat or a scene or anything.”

  His expression didn’t change, as if her words had hit a shield and bounced off. “No scene. Merely a chat—an honest one.”

  “Honest? You?” Her laugh came out bitter. As she turned her back on him, her gaze ran right into Master Z’s. Oh…damn.

  A bartender’s personal life was never supposed to affect her work. Talk about unprofessional. She pulled in a breath. “Can I get you a drink, Sir?”

  Master Z studied her for a long, uncomfortable moment. “As an employee, you are not required to participate in any activity here. However, you did—and there appears to be a problem.”

  “No, there—”

  He kept talking. “A submissive may always say no to a scene—or any advances, for that matter. However, if a Master wishes to discuss a problem, especially one related to a
session in the Shadowlands, you are required to listen and be respectful.”

  She stared at him in dismay. Seriously?

  Running straight for the exit would be immature. Still… Note to self: No more scenes in this place. Ever. Then again, since she’d sworn off men, that shouldn’t be a problem, right?

  Aaaaand, her boss was still waiting for her response. How someone could be both reasonable and terrifying, she didn’t know. He sure hadn’t left her any choice. It seemed she’d be talking with Holt. Fine. “Of course, Master Z. I’ll listen and be respectful,” she said ever so politely.

  His lips quirked.

  Oh, he thought this was funny? Jaw tight, she turned. “Master Holt. If you wish to speak with me, I’m ready.”

  “Very good.” His steel-blue eyes held no amusement.

  When she moved from behind the bar, he led the way to two chairs at the far edge of the lawn. “Sit, please.”

  Stiffly, she settled onto one chair. “Well?” She lifted her eyebrows.

  He took the other chair and leaned forward with his forearms on his thighs. His gaze slowly ran over her face, down her body, and back to her face in a measuring look rather than a sexual one. “You’re angry with me. Tell me why.”

  “Seriously?” Was he insinuating she was unreasonable? She wanted to throw something at him. Was it a law of nature that testosterone and truthfulness couldn’t exist in the same body? “I don’t see the need.”

  “I do. I obviously hurt you enough to cause this anger; however, I don’t know what I did. I’d like to know.”

  All right, since this Shadowlands was all about open communication, maybe it was time someone laid some honesty on him. If he could even recognize it. “You told me you had no girlfriend, fiancée, or wife. You said ‘None of the above,’ in fact.”

  He looked puzzled. “That’s right.”

  She stared. He was still holding to that story? Her anger rose until it felt as if it would shear off the top of her head. “You are such a liar. I saw you, you—” She bit back the ugly word. Adults didn’t name-call; that’s what she told Carson. “I saw you and your redhead earlier, and Oma said you’ve been with that woman for a while now. So, Mr. I’m-Single, what about that?”

  He looked as if she’d slapped him, then leaned back. “Got it.”

  “Can I go now?” She rose.

  “Sit. Down.” His voice had gone dangerously low.

  To her annoyance, her knees obeyed and dropped her back onto the chair. “You can’t—”

  “It’s your turn to listen without interrupting. That’s how this works, pet.”

  Pet? How dare—

  “Nadia—the redhead—showed up today because she wanted to get back together. I said no.”

  She had a second of hope and then shook her head. Another lie. She gave him a cynical look and let her disbelief show in her words. “You’re saying you broke up with her.”

  His smile held no warmth as he ran a finger down the long scar from his temple to his jaw. “She visited me in the hospital, saw this, and couldn’t bring herself to get near me. I told her we were done. Today was the first time I’ve seen her since.”

  Come to think of it, she’d have remembered seeing that flashy red BMW if it’d been in his driveway before. “Oh.” Weak, Josie. Her gaze dropped as guilt slid a knife between her ribs. She hadn’t waited to ask. Had simply assumed he’d lied. “I jumped to conclusions.”

  “Yes, you did.” Taking her hands, he pulled her up, over, and onto his lap. His grip on her hips kept her firmly in place.

  “Holt, this—”

  “You screwed up, sweetheart, because you didn’t come and talk with me. Even yelling at me would have been better than the cut-and-run.” He brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “In a relationship, you first try to work shit out. And then, if you can’t, you walk away.”

  She tried to rise, but he didn’t release her. With an annoyed sound, she sat still. Each breath brought her his clean scent—that of a beach after a thunderstorm.

  Dammit, she hated that he was correct about her behavior and hated that she had to say the words. “You’re right. But we don’t have a relationship.”

  “No, not formally, but we’re neighbors and I thought, friends.” He waited.

  Neighbors, true.

  Friends…he’d saved her son. Had been over for meals. True.

  She nodded.

  “And more,” he said softly. “Josie, to me, the scene we did was more than a simple pickup scene. Didn’t you feel it?”

  His words were like boulders being piled on her chest until she had trouble drawing in air. Their scene… She’d watched other quickly arranged scenes and the aftercare. How Holt had treated her and how she’d responded hadn’t been…casual. There had been more, during and afterward. True.

  The words wouldn’t come. She nodded.

  “Ah, progress. So, you decided I’d lied rather than checking.” Keeping one arm around her waist, he picked up her hand, tracing the veins and ligaments. “All because of Everett?”

  She stiffened.

  And he waited. Silently. Expecting her to answer.

  She didn’t want to wade through the bitter memories again, yet his silent patience was a trap.

  “Not all, but mostly, yes.” The sigh she gave was a capitulation. “I believed all his lies. I was so…stupid.”

  Holt’s mouth thinned into an angry line. “And, at sixteen, you’d have had a wide experience to call upon?”

  He was angry for her?

  “No experience at all, actually.” Small Texas town. A church-going, honors student. A virgin. “You read his letter. At the time, it was…devastating.” She’d adored him with all her sixteen-year-old heart. How could she explain the pain of realizing he’d lied just to get in her pants? Of learning she’d never been more than a fun diversion?

  “And…? You said not all. What’s the rest of it?”

  She sighed. “As a bartender, it feels as if I’m surrounded by deceit. People lying about relationships, jobs, finances, interests. Women, sometimes. Men…a lot.”

  “Ah. I hadn’t considered that ugly aspect of your profession.” Holt’s gaze ran over her face. “Josie, I don’t lie.” His lips curved slightly. “Of course, any liar would say that. You should check around. I’ve been a member of this club for quite a few years now. Ask the members about me.”

  “But…”

  “It’s always wise to research the reputation of the person you want to play with.”

  Actually, from what she’d heard, the Shadowlands Masters were extremely well vetted by Z and the membership. How had she forgotten that? He had a point, though, about checking with the members if she ever played with someone besides Holt.

  The thought was unpalatable.

  Taking her courage in hand, she looked him in the eyes. “I’m sorry for jumping to the conclusion that you lied to me. I should have talked with you.”

  “Forgiven.” Gently, he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “You know, a past betrayal is a kind of a trigger. And a trigger can mess with a person’s thinking.”

  Oh. She hadn’t thought of that.

  With firm hands, Holt pulled her against his chest. “There. I’ve missed holding you.”

  And she’d missed being held. Bending slightly, she buried her face in the hard curve between his neck and shoulder. “Thank you for dragging me away for a talk.”

  “Mmmhmm. However,” he murmured against her hair, “the next time you go cold and silent instead of talking, I’ll call you on it, get it hammered out, and then spank you so hard you won’t do it again.”

  She froze. “You…what?”

  “You heard me.” He lifted her head, forcing her to meet his steady gaze. “If you are not honest with me, I will bare your ass and spank you.”

  “You…you…” Her sputtering made him laugh, and he bent his head and took her mouth. His free hand gripped her hair, holding her head imprisoned as he kissed every protest right
out of her.

  Releasing her, he smiled into her eyes. “To reiterate, I’m totally free and single, not in any relationships. I like you, Josie. More than like you. I’d like to play with you here…and outside of the Shadowlands as well.”

  Even as a thrill went through her, she wasn’t sure if she was ready for such honesty. Or the next step. She swallowed. “I like you, too.”

  He chuckled. “I know. Or you wouldn’t have been so pissed off.”

  Rising, he set her on her feet. “Go on back to work. I’ll be by in a while to talk with you about a barbecue tomorrow.”

  * * * * *

  Hours later, after finishing a stint as dungeon monitor, Holt stopped at a hail.

  Talking with Cullen, Dan stood near the bar. Dressed in his usual black leathers with a Master’s gold armband, the cop looked almost as lethal as he probably was. “You owe me a babysitting gig.”

  “Trust you not to forget either. How’s Zane?” Holt did a quick calculation and was surprised at the result. “Jesus, he’s over two now?”

  Cullen snorted. “And he’s mastered the art of saying no.”

  “At the top of his lungs,” Dan admitted ruefully.

  Holt laughed. The police detective terrified felons as easily as he did submissives—but a two-year-old had him cowed? “The ‘no’ stage is healthy, even if it is a pain in the ass.” In fact, Holt cheered when his little patients started giving him the big no. It meant they were on the road to recovery.

  “So Kari says.” Dan looked to where several Shadowkittens clustered around his wife, and his gaze softened. The hard-ass cop was still gone over the pretty schoolteacher.

  Since Holt’s fellow firefighters went through women faster than they did beer, it was reassuring to see the Shadowland Masters and their strong, enduring relationships—especially since many of them lived a form of D/s lifestyle.

  As Dan told how his munchkin had spattered their enthusiastic German shepherd with oatmeal, Holt kept an eye on Josie. She looked up, saw him…and her smile smacked him right in the fucking chest.

  “You know, buddy,” Cullen said, his gaze also on the bar, “I’ve been missing my old job.”