Читать книгу Broken - Rebecca Zanetti - Страница 9

Chapter One

Clarence Wolfe strode up to the entrance of the super-secret sex club as if he had done so a million times before.

Down the street and partially hidden by the branches of a sweeping cherry tree, Dana Mulberry ducked lower in her car and pressed the binoculars to her face so hard they pinched her skin. What in the world was Wolfe doing at a Captive party?

She swallowed. Her heart rate, already thundering, galloped into the unhealthy range. It had taken her weeks to find out about the club and track down the location of the newest party, and yet another week to finagle an invitation to the casual play night as a guest. And the ex-soldier, the beyond hunky badass who’d relegated her immediately to the friend zone, was walking inside like he owned one of the coveted million-dollar memberships?

She shook her head. Twice. When she could focus once more through her binoculars, there Wolfe prowled, clear as day in the full moonlight.

He’d followed the rules for the night, too. Male doms were to wear leather pants and dark shirts, females any leather outfit, and subs were to wear corsets and small skirts if they were female and knit shirts and light pants if they were male. Apparently, Wolfe was a dom. Figured. She had assumed she’d chuckle at seeing guys in leather pants, but there was nothing funny about Wolfe’s long legs, powerful thighs and tight butt in those pants.

In fact, he looked even more dangerous than usual, and she would’ve bet that wasn’t possible.

Where in the heck had Wolfe found leather pants? Was he really some sort of dom who went to clubs? He didn’t like people enough to spend time with anybody in a dungeon. She giggled, the sound slightly hysterical, so she cleared her throat.

What now? She looked down at her tight green corset and a black skirt that was as short as she dared go. At least it covered the still healing knife marks on her upper thighs that she hadn’t told anybody about. Not even her doctor. The guy who’d cut her had been killed in jail, so why did it matter?

Forget the nightmares. They’ll go away soon.

Her more immediate problem was that Wolfe had just walked through the front door of the mansion housing the latest Captive party. The man she needed to find was inside that place, and she’d spent a lot of time gearing up for this.

Would Wolfe blow her cover?

She’d been sitting in her car for an hour watching people arrive. Okay. She might’ve been gathering her courage. This was so outside her experience. She hadn’t even known sex clubs existed until that movie came out about BDSM.

But her boss at the national newspaper where she used to work, had once said she’d do anything for a story, and he’d been right. Well, mostly. Okay. She could do this. In fact, why not look at the fact that Wolfe was inside as a positive? His presence gave her unexpected backup.

Yeah. That was the idea. Forget the fact that the sexiest man she’d ever met was in a sex club right now. Yep. Good plan. She slid from her car and pulled her skirt down as far as she could, which still barely covered her butt.

Her heels tottered on the uneven sidewalk as she clip-clopped alongside a high stone wall that no doubt protected another zillion-dollar mansion. Then she crossed the street, her head high, shivering in the chilly breeze as she reached the front door and knocked.

“Hello.” A man in full tuxedo opened the door. He was about six feet tall with curly blond hair, and he was built like a linebacker. “Can I help you?”

There was no way anybody could get by this guy if he didn’t grant access. She handed over her gold-foiled invitation.

He accepted the paper and held up a small tablet to scroll through. “Ah. Miss Millerton. I see that you answered the questionnaire and have signed all of the necessary documents.” He focused on her, still blocking entry. “A couple of quick questions.”

She forced a smile, feeling way too exposed in her scant clothing. Hopefully the questions weren’t about her cover ID. “All right.”

“What’s your safe word?”

“Red,” she said instantly.

“Good. If you need help, who do you yell for?” His voice remained kind but firm.

She paused, thinking through the documents she’d read online. “For anybody, but especially the dungeon monitors.” The words felt foreign in her mouth. Should she ask him about Albert? Or was that taboo? She didn’t want to get kicked out before she found her source.

“Good.” The guy stepped back to reveal a rather ordinary-looking front vestibule with another wide door directly across from them. “Go ahead and have fun, sweetheart.”

Fun? She nodded and tottered on her heels across the dark marble to the door, which, somehow, he reached first and opened for her.

“Thank you,” she murmured, instantly hit by a wave of noise and heat. Music blasted from the ceiling, and in front of her, a palatial living room had been set up with a dance floor on one side and a full-length bar on the other. Bar. Definitely bar. She could have a drink and maybe chat up the bartender. A quick glance around the darkened room, highlighted by deep purple lights from far above, didn’t reveal Albert’s location. She didn’t see Wolfe, either. Good.

She made her way through a crowd of people in leather and other gear, finally reaching the bar.

A six-foot-tall female bartender wearing a full leather outfit leaned over, her full breasts spilling out of the tight V-neck. “What can I get you, hon?”

“Tequila. Shot,” Dana said. Should she ask for a double? No.

“Sure thing.” The woman poured a generous shot and pushed it across the inlaid wood. “You a guest tonight?”

Dana tipped back the drink, sputtering just a little as her throat heated. “Yes.”

The woman grinned, revealing a tongue piercing. “You new?”

“Yes.” Dana coughed.

“I’m Jennie.” She tilted her head and poured another shot. “Mistress Jennie.”

Oh yeah. Dana had tried to memorize the appropriate lingo from the online sites. She accepted the second shot, her hand shaking. “Thank you.” Was she supposed to add the “mistress”? The website hadn’t said.

“You bet. Just have some fun and remember you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. The playrooms are all over the house, and if there’s a red sign on a door, it can’t be closed. You can just watch if you want,” Jennie said, moving down the bar as somebody caught her attention.

Good advice. Definitely. Dana took the second shot and let the alcohol warm her body.

“Hello.” A man appeared at her elbow. “We haven’t met.”

She partially turned. The guy was about fifty with shrewd eyes and an iron-hard body. He wore leather pants and a red leather vest that showed muscled arms. “Hello. I’m Dana,” she said.

“Charles.” He held out a hand to shake and kept hers longer than necessary. “You here to explore a little bit?”

Oh, crap. “I’m just here to ease my way in.” She tried for a flirtatious smile, but her lips refused to curve. “In fact, I was looking for my friend Albert Nelson. Any chance you know him?”

Charles slid closer, his pupils dilated. “No. But I could make you forget him.” He took her hand again, and she tried to pull back, but he just smiled. “How about we check out some of the rooms? I could show you around.”

“No, thanks.” She forced a smile in place as panic began to rise.

“Come on—” Charles began.

“She said no.” Charles’s hand was instantly removed from hers, and he was tossed toward the dance floor, barely catching his balance before he collided with two people slow dancing.

Dana gulped, tasting tequila on her lips as she looked up, knowing the voice well. “Wolfe.” Only training kept her from blanching at the raw fury in his bourbon-colored eyes.

He leaned in, his full lips near her ear. “What the hell are you doing here?”

She shivered and dug deep for her own anger. Then she pressed her hands to her hips. “What are you doing here?” she snapped back.

His gaze swept from her revealing top, down to her toes, and back up to her blazing face. “Subs don’t use that tone, baby. One who does ends up over a knee. Quickly.”

Oh, he did not. She glared. “I am not a sub,” she whispered.

“You’re dressed like one.” His dark T-shirt tightened across his muscled chest as he leaned closer again. His buzz cut had grown out to curl a bit beneath his ears, giving him a wild look.

“There weren’t many options,” she hissed.

“Wolfe.” A man also dressed in leather, his brown hair slicked back, moved up beside Wolfe. He was about forty with tattoos down one arm. “I see you found a friend. Finally going to play?”

Wolfe didn’t look away from Dana, his gaze going from furious to calm in a second. How in the world did he control himself like that? “I’m normally not a public player, as you know.”

What did that mean? Dana began to ask, but Wolfe subtly shook his head.

The man held out a hand. “In that case, I’m Master Trentington. How about I show you around tonight?”

“That’s kind of you.” Dana shook his hand, her lip trembling annoyingly. “I was actually looking for a friend named Albert Nelson. Do you know him?”

Trentington reluctantly released her. “I do, but he’s not here tonight. I’d love to be your guide in his stead.”

“No,” Wolfe answered before she could, angling his body closer and partially blocking the other man. He glanced over his shoulder at Jennie. “Spare cuffs?”

Jennie grinned, reached under the bar, and tossed over a pair of bright pink wrist cuffs.

Wolfe snagged them out of the air and snapped them on Dana’s wrists before she could blink. They were fur lined and soft, but felt restrictive nonetheless. “We’ve already reached an agreement,” he murmured.

“Well. In that case, have fun.” Trentington moved to leave.

“Charles was being pushy again,” Wolfe said quietly. “It’s time you kicked him out.”

Trentington sighed and turned toward the dance floor. “Thanks.”

Dana looked down at the pink cuffs. She kind of felt like Wonder Woman. “Why did you—”

“They show ownership,” Wolfe said, clipping the cuffs together easily.

Her abdomen rolled, and her head snapped back. “Excuse me?” She tugged hard, but they wouldn’t separate, effectively binding her wrists together. She eyed his shin. With her heels, she could do some damage.

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. It slid over her skin, burning her from within. “Right now, you’re playing a sub, no doubt for a story. But I’m playing a dom, and if you kick me, I’ll toss your ass over that bar and beat it.”

His words slid right through her to pulse between her legs. For Pete’s sake. That scenario was not sexy. The idea of Wolfe’s hand anywhere near her butt sent her already sensitive body into hyperdrive. Oh, she’d handle him later. For now, she had work to do, so she shook off all emotion and leaned closer. He’d said “playing.” “Are you on a job?” she whispered.

“Yes.” He glanced around. “Who’s Albert Nelson?”

“Someone I need to talk to,” she said, looking again. “I scared him off last week, but I know he’s a member of Captive, so I came here to ask him questions.” She planned to pressure him into answering all of her questions this time. She no longer cared about subtlety. Finding out who’d killed her friend was all that mattered. “Your job?”

“Confidential. You know a guy named Clarke Wellson?”

“No, but I could do a background check later,” she murmured. They’d helped each other with cases before.

Wolfe glanced down at her, his gaze warming. “You look incredible.”

“Thank you.” It was nice he’d noticed, although the outfit wasn’t really her style. She was more a jeans and flannel type of girl. She shuffled uneasily in her heels. That way he had of switching topics had thrown her ever since they’d met. “Okay. I’m going to mingle and ask questions. You?”

He smiled, the sight daunting. “I just cuffed you. No dom would allow a sub to mingle.”

Allow? Oh, heck no. She blinked. “Then uncuff me.”

“No. Last time you didn’t have backup, you nearly died.” He crossed his arms, somehow scouting the entire room while also watching her.

Her back teeth gritted together. “You’re not in charge here, Wolfe.”

“The cuffs say otherwise,” he said, angling his head to take in the dance floor.

She couldn’t help it. She really couldn’t. Full on, she’d chased this story, and now she was pretty much tied up because of a guy who only wanted to be her friend. She kicked him, as hard as she could, right in the shin.

He stiffened and rapidly pivoted, and both hands went to her hips to lift her. She was in the air, halfway to the bar, before she even thought to struggle. A heavy thud sounded from behind Wolfe. A woman screamed.

Wolfe dropped Dana to her feet and shoved her behind him, angling toward the dance floor. He looked up to a balcony high above.

Dana craned her neck to look around him, staring down at the dead man on the ground with a bullet hole in his head. His eyes were wide open and frighteningly blank. Her stomach lurched, and she coughed. “That’s Albert,” she whispered.

Wolfe looked over his shoulder at her. “Well, shit. That’s Clarke, too.”

Sirens sounded in the distance. Wolfe grabbed her bound wrists. “We have to get out of here. Now.”