Shattered Bonds: Book Seven of Wicked Play (11 page)

“He lost his family?” Seth was clearly clueless on that, whereas Noah had kept tabs on the man.

“Yeah.” Noah said. “His wife divorced him. Kids won’t speak to him.”

“I didn’t know.”

Maybe Noah was the only one who did. He hadn’t updated the other partners as it hadn’t been relevant to them, but now he wished he had. Hindsight was a real bitch.

“We knew it was a possibility. It’s exactly what we’re all afraid of right now.” Noah looked to Cali, who was leaning into Carter by the window, the thick neck brace covering where Jake’s delicate silver collar usually lay. “That those exact things will happen to any or all of us, right?”

Seth sat back, scrubbing his hands over his stubbled cheeks. “Fucking Christ. This just keeps getting worse and worse.”

Noah wanted to disagree but couldn’t. There were too many things he wanted to rant at and disagree with to no end. So many things... “At least we all have something Harcourt didn’t have.”

“What’s that?” Seth asked, dropping his hands with a heavy thud in his lap.

Noah raised his brows. “Each other. A support system. People to lean on.”

Seth barked out a laugh. “When did you get so sentimental?”

“When I watched a truck slam into a car carrying seven of my closest friends and thought I’d lost them all.” Noah replied quickly, with a dead calm that shocked even him.

Seth sucked in a breath, but Noah didn’t look away. Seth had to understand he wasn’t in his own little vacuum of pain.

Seth closed his eyes and nodded. “I get it. I do.”

“Hey.” Noah squeezed the man’s thigh and waited until he opened his eyes. “We’re all doing our best right now. Don’t beat yourself up any more than you have to.”

“And you’re taking that same advice, right?”

Noah’s lips twitched. “About as much as you and Deklan are.”

“Exactly,” Seth scoffed.

Right. Noah changed the subject, switching over to The Den. They talked numbers and tactics for a bit before Allie came into the room, looking worn and tired like the rest of them.

“I needed to use the bathroom,” she said. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, her curly hair springing wildly around her head. Seth tugged on her uninjured hand, and she collapsed onto his lap. “One of us should be there if he wakes up,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

“He’s in a medically induced coma.” Seth buried his nose into her hair and inhaled, his arms tightening around her waist, away from her broken arm. “He can’t wake up yet.”

“What if he never does?” she croaked.

“Shh. We can’t think like that.”

“I know.” She sniffed. “I know. He’s just so still. He’s never still.”

Seth rocked her, eyes blinking rapidly. “He’ll wake up.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “He has to. He’s fought too hard to leave us now.”

Witnessing the depth of their anguish over their injured partner tore open old wounds in Noah. The level of fear and unanswered prayers that were followed by rants and curses were once again fresh in his mind and heart. How were they all going to make it through this?

He left Seth with Allie and checked in on Cali before finally addressing Thomas. “I was going to get a coffee in the cafeteria. Would you like to join me?”

“I’m coming, too,” Chris said, thrusting to his feet, his glare defying Noah to say no.

“Of course.” There was no point in withholding information from any of them, no matter how incriminating the details were.

“I’ll bring you back a cup,” Thomas said to his wife. He squeezed her hand then rose. “Let’s go.”

With one last glance at the people who were now his family, Noah slung his briefcase over his shoulder and led the way out of the room.

Chapter Thirteen

“But how does that work?” The boy squinted at Noah from behind dark-framed glasses that were too big for his thin face. He screwed up his mouth and returned his glare to the line of numbers on the paper before him. “If I multiply these two numbers first, won’t that mess up the results?”

Noah grabbed a clean piece of paper and explained the math theory again, this time taking it from a different approach.

“Oh, I get it,” Jessica chimed in, excitement in her voice. She tugged the paper away from Noah and scribbled on the page to show Anton what she’d figured out.

Noah sat back and let the two work together. Her joy at understanding the complicated equation filled Noah with unearned pride. She was just one of the many kids he’d tutored at Liv’s youth center, but every time the lightbulb came on for one of them, the sense of accomplishment that filled him was far greater than any he’d achieved practicing law.

He checked the time and pushed his chair away from the table. The legs scraped across the tile with a high-pitched wail, and he cringed at the harshness. He was bone-weary and functioning on a diet of caffeine and obligation. It would’ve been easier to take up Liv’s offer to skip today, yet he really needed to be here.

The reminder that the whole word wasn’t filled with judgmental gossip mongers was healing to his soul.

“Mr. Noah?”

He leaned forward and gave the kids his full attention.

They worked through three more problems before Liv popped her head into the room. “Jessica, Anton? It’s time to go.”

“Already?” Anton asked, his gaze shooting to the clock on the wall. He let out a loud sigh and packed up his backpack without further comment. It wasn’t the first time Noah had noticed the boy’s lack of excitement at heading home.

Questions were on the tip of his tongue, but he held them back. Liv had given him the spiel about his role when he’d started volunteering, and it wasn’t to get entrenched in the kids’ lives.

“See you next week,” Jessica chirped as she followed Liv and Anton out of the room.

He stayed behind and tried to regroup. Yesterday had been a breeze compared to the cluster-fuck that today had been. And there was still more to do.

His phone had stayed quiet through the evening newscasts, but he pulled up the local news stations and watched their segments covering the accident. Nothing new. Thank God. They’d been granted a reprieve. Would it last? Doubtful. It probably meant things would be worse when the story did break.

He was slipping his suit coat back on when Liv returned with a plate of food, a bottle of water and a pop. She sat the sandwich on the table then held up the drinks. “I didn’t know which one you’d want. Caffeine or not.”

The warmth that spread through his chest was about more than the food. “You didn’t have—”

“I know,” she cut in, a habit she seemed to have with him. “But I talked to Karen, and she said you skipped lunch.”

“Karen?” He scowled. “You’re on a first-name basis with my assistant?”

She slipped his jacket back off his shoulders and laid it over a desk. “What? I simply asked and she told me. I wasn’t being devious.” She nudged his shoulder until he sat down and waved at the food. “Eat. We have to leave soon if we want to make it to The Den before eight.”

“Liv...” He let her name drag out in warning.

“Noah,” she returned, mimicking his tone in a way that had him sounding childish. Christ. She popped the can open and took a drink before plopping down in the seat Anton had vacated. “You’d better eat. There’s no telling when we’ll get out of the club tonight.”

“What, why, just...” What the hell? He snatched the pop from her hand and took a big gulp. It didn’t help.

“V and Marcus can’t be seen at the club, and Carter said Rock can’t keep up with the calls and emails that have come in.”

“Those are our issues,” he snapped. How in the hell had she gotten so entwined with them so fast? “We’ll deal with them. They don’t concern you.”

“Wow.” She sat back, eyes wide before they slowly narrowed. She crossed her arms, and he prepared himself for the fight to come. “Had a rough day, huh?”

The tension ripped across his shoulders before he hung his head in defeat. That simply she’d won the argument before it started. “You could say that,” he admitted.

She stood and maneuvered her way into the space between him and the table to straddle his lap. He scowled but leaned back to give her room, his hands coming to rest on her hips. Each wiggle as she settled herself across his thighs was torture. He knew exactly how her round bottom looked squirming beneath him and he was acutely aware of how close her sex was to the inappropriate erection springing to life in his pants.

The tenderness in her eyes almost consumed him, especially when she placed her hands on his cheeks and followed it with a gentle kiss. “You don’t have to do it all alone.”

Yeah, he did. But she didn’t understand that and she refused to listen to him.

“Come on.” She thumped his chin. “It can’t be that hard to accept help.”

“What if it is?” He had no idea why the truth came out right then.

That cheeky smile got him every time it appeared. “It gets easier the more you do it. Trust me. I’ll show you how. Just think of me as your training wheels.”

“So I’m a four-year-old now?”

“Well...”

“Don’t even,” he warned. His hands were on her ribs, ready to tickle, but she shot off his lap before he could follow through.

Her laughter filled the room and sucked a bit of the weariness from him. He chuckled and conceded another round to her. Maybe. She turned away, and he gave in to impulse, grabbing her waist and landing a solid slap on her tempting ass before she could protest.

Her yelp echoed off the walls, and he let her go when she spun around, her mouth open. “What was that for?”

His hand tingled with the residual sting of the hit, a sensation he’d almost forgotten but suddenly craved. Add in the slow build of heat and the thought of the blush that would turn to a deep red on her bare skin, and he was choking back a throaty groan.

He scooted his chair closer to the table to hide his boner and picked up the sandwich. Pausing, he gave her a slow appraisal. “Just seemed like you needed it.” He waited a beat then took a large bite of the food.

Her mouth opened and shut a few times before she slammed it closed and stalked to the door. “Next time ask first,” she said. “I have to lock up. I’ll be back in five.”

He froze, his sandwich held halfway to his mouth. Ask first? Did that mean she’d say yes? Visions of her bent over his knees, bare ass in the air for him to spank, did not help his boner problem. Christ. He couldn’t go there.

Then why was he picturing it, wanting it when he hadn’t in years?

Liv was not a submissive. Was she? He had no clue. He’d been in the community long enough to know that enjoying a spanking didn’t make someone a submissive. But...

Clips of his conversation with Seth cut through his mind. The ones of guilt and inappropriate blame and letting go, all things he’d never managed to do himself. Not with Beth. There were times when he’d believed he’d never be free of the weight, yet there’d been pockets of his short time with Liv when he had.

He rubbed his eyes and finished off the sandwich, another meal consumed but not tasted. It was fuel, just like the caffeine he’d downed all day. There were more important things to deal with than his infatuation with Vanessa’s little sister.

Maybe they should just fuck like bunnies until the sexual tension disappeared. He hadn’t done that in years either. Damn it. He was barely forty and he’d become a self-imposed monk. No wonder he wanted to grab hold of Liv and fuck her until she passed out.

And then what?

The question remained unanswered as he slid his jacket on, tossed his garbage in the trash and flicked off the lights. There was no point in thinking about something that would never happen. Not when there was a long list of things he
had
to think about. And fix—he couldn’t forget them even if he wanted to.

He shifted his shoulders and let the responsibility settle back where he was forced to remember it. The flick of a light switch had him turning around to see Liv hurrying down the hall, the walls decorated with cutout pumpkins in tribute to the coming holiday. Her smile was bright, the bounce in her step light, even though she’d had the same amount of sleep as he in the last two days.

“Ready?” she asked as she approached. “Traffic should be lighter by now.”

He lifted the large bag out of her hand and slung it over his shoulder with a nod. No matter how much he wanted to outrun it, Liv was firmly entrenched in his life for now. And somehow, she was quickly moving from an obligation to a compulsion that threatened to bury him or possibly, just possibly, set him free.

Chapter Fourteen

The voices reached Liv, echoing down the hallway in a tumble of angry shouts as soon as the elevator doors slid open. Noah straightened his shoulders and charged down the hall, Liv right behind him. He spared her a quick glare, which she ignored. Like she’d stay behind because a few men were shouting at each other.

“Can’t you understand that we want to help?”

“It’s not your call.” That was Rock’s voice, deep and annoyed, but the tone was definitely his.

“And it’s yours?” a second voice challenged.

“Get the fuck out of my face,” Rock growled as Liv rounded the corner to enter a small lounge, chairs stacked upside-down on the tables. Rock was by the bar surrounded by at least ten men with Carter being the only other one she recognized.

“Gentlemen,” Noah barked, his voice piercing through the fray. If the tension hadn’t been so high, Liv would’ve laughed at the almost comical way the men swiveled their heads in unison to glare at them.

“Noah.” A shorter man with a broad chest and thick arms that reminded her of a bulldog stepped out of the group. “Thank fuck. Maybe you can talk some sense into this stubborn ass.” He hooked a thumb at Rock, whose forward step was halted by Carter.

Liv came up beside Noah to have every eye in the group land on her. Well, crap. She was used to confronting angry or oblivious parents, but this was the first time she’d faced down a pack of leather-studded Doms.

She gave them a full grin and a wave. “Hi.”

Carter muffled a laugh, and heat slowly rose up her neck. She couldn’t dismiss the sensation of being sized up like a side of meat. Slightly annoyed, she prepared to spout out something witty when Noah placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

“Mine.” That one word was stated with firm authority, and several men nodded. One grinned, and a few more scowled.

What the heck?
Mine?
Maybe she was a piece of meat after all.

She opened her mouth to respond when Noah settled his hand on her nape. He pressed a kiss to her temple, and all her retorts and indignation stuck in her throat.

“Not now, please,” he whispered. “Just...don’t.” His breath was hot on her skin, and goose bumps rose beneath the gentle swipe of his thumb on the sensitive spot behind her ear.

The fight left her instantly. She didn’t understand the dynamics in play, was pretty certain she didn’t like them either, but she was here to help, not cause problems.

This was his world, and she had to remember that.

After another second, he turned back to the group, his hand still staking his nonverbal claim on her. She wanted to both shrug off his hold and lean into the security it provided.

“Now what is the problem?” Noah asked the men.

“They want us to reopen the club,” Rock said, stepping out of the group to address him.

“Every day you’re closed, Harcourt wins,” the bulldog man said. “Don’t let that bastard win.”

“It’s not about him.”

“Isn’t it?” Bulldog growled at Rock. “It’s another shot at all of us. His last hurrah to take down the community he never understood.”

“Yet it took Seth’s tape to get the rest of you to ban him from your clubs.” Noah motioned toward the assembled group, his face emotionless like his chilled words. If it wasn’t for the heat coming from his palm, Liv would’ve sworn he’d turned to ice.

Several men shuffled, and Bulldog looked away, his hands flexing on his hips. “You know how fine the line is between allowance and interference.” He glanced at the other men, who nodded, then met Noah’s gaze. “We acted when proof was presented.”

“Look.” Another man dressed in tight leather pants and vest stepped up. “Can we get a drink and talk about this?” He glanced between Rock and Noah. “We have some options for The Den to consider. I think you’ll want to hear us out.”

Silence stretched through the room on an extended band of tension that was finally broken by Rock’s almost imperceptible shrug. Noah gave a single nod, and Bulldog returned the motion, yet no one moved.

Liv scanned the men, most of whom wore at least one item made of leather, with black being the sole color choice. Carter was the odd man out in a white button-up and jeans.

She caught his eye and smiled. With a returning smirk, he headed around the bar. She clapped her hands together and followed Carter. “All right, gentlemen,” she called as she wove between the men and passed through the access door to step behind the bar. “What’ll it be?”

“Liv.”

She ignored the gentle warning in Noah’s tone and grabbed a glass. “Who needs a beer?” She caught the glances a few of the Doms made between her and Noah and didn’t care. This wasn’t about her “obeying” him. Someone needed to break the testosterone fest going on, and she could do that.

Carter was beside her, a glass poised under a beer tap. “Any preferences?”

There was another moment of silence before a gray-haired man leaned on the bar and said, “I’ll take a porter.”

“Got it,” Carter said and tugged on the tap.

She smiled at every man who’d meet her eye, cheeks stiff, palms sweating. There was no way she was backing down. This was some kind of a test, one she didn’t know the rules to but was stuck taking anyway. To flinch was to falter and lose.

She hated to lose.

“Bourbon,” Noah said, his expression flat like his voice. “On the rocks.”

Her stomach flipped with the relief that let go of the hold on her lungs. She spun around to search the line of liquor bottles, not that she knew a lot about brands or quality. Stealing a brief moment to calm her racing heart, she hunted the top shelf for a bottle that looked hip. She paused with her hand over one that had roses on the label and glanced over her shoulder to Noah, brow raised. The slight lift of his chin had her grabbing the bottle off the shelf.

Another man asked for a beer, his gruff burble barely discernible, but it seemed to motivate the rest of the group. She handed the filled glass of bourbon to Noah, shot him a smile, then turned back to fill the requests of the other men.

It only took a few minutes to get the drink orders settled. Chairs were flipped down and tables pulled together as the men settled in for their discussion.

Liv poured herself a pop and leaned against the bar, adrenaline shimmering through her system to leave her jittery. Something important had just happened. She sensed that, only she didn’t know what it was.

Had she passed? Failed?

Did she care?

Carter relaxed beside her, his shoulder nudging hers. “Are you all right?”

A soft puff of laughter slipped out. She closed her eyes at the almost useless question. She was so tired of answering it when there was only one response she could give. “Yeah. You?”

He stared at the table of Doms, now deep in conversation about the state of The Den, and only shrugged. She didn’t belong in that debate, yet it was hard to just stand there and do nothing. The pop relieved her parched throat and settled her rolling stomach, but it didn’t help with the unaccustomed nerves that had set in.

There was so much about this lifestyle that she didn’t know about. Habits, expectations, customs, lingo—it was all foreign.

“Do you belong over there?” she asked Carter, keeping her voice low.

He gave a quick head shake. “No more than you.”

She studied his profile, questions tumbling through her mind. “Does that mean you’re the sub and Rock’s the Dom?”

He dropped his head, a hand covering his silent laugh. He grabbed her arm and led her through a set of swinging doors into the kitchen. The soft glow of a single light lit their way as Carter weaved a path through the equipment to exit out another door. It opened into the hallway they’d come down earlier, the men’s conversation only discernible in low undertones from here.

Carter braced a shoulder on the wall and tucked his hands into his jeans pockets. “So...” His eyes sparkled with a mischief that had her returning his smile. “How much do you know about BDSM?”

“Zero,” she answered. “Outside of what’s general perception and knowledge.”

“Rock and I aren’t into the lifestyle.”

She frowned. “You’re not? But I thought... He’s a partner here. I just assumed he was into it.”

“You don’t have to be into it to be accepting of it.” There was an indulgent, patient sense to his tone that rubbed her the wrong way.

“I know that. Have I judged any of you since I found out? No,” she answered for him. “I’m just trying to understand.” She was lost and absolutely hated it. How could she help them if she didn’t know their world?

“You’re right. Sorry.” He turned around and headed toward the elevator. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

He pushed the up button. “I’ll show you around. Answer what I can.” He waited until the doors closed before adding, “You should talk to Noah or V to get the deep answers. I’ve only played on the fringes. Rock and I don’t partake in the lifestyle because it’s not something we need.”

She pondered that word as she followed him out of the elevator.
Need.
Was this stuff—bondage, submission, dominance, being whipped—something people
needed
? How did that differ from
wanting
it?

She needed food to live, but she wanted potato chips. Could that concept really be applied to this lifestyle?

The subtle scent of lemon blended with the headier richness of leather when they entered a large room filled with equipment that would never belong in her local gym. She’d seen pictures of some of the items, but it was very different in real life and somewhat anticlimactic.

“The Dungeon, right?” She could sense Carter watching her and made certain to keep her expression neutral.

“Yup. What do you think?”

She shrugged. Without people to bring the room to life, it was just a space littered with cold devices that let the imagination flow but gave no answers. “Interesting.” What did he expect her to say? “Have you used any of it?”

“Not here.” He nodded toward the room without saying more. She was curious about what that meant, but it wasn’t her place to dig further.

“Is there more?” The building was huge, and this area took up only half of the second floor.

“You saw the dance and bar area.” He motioned toward the stairs leading down. “There are exhibitionist and voyeur rooms on the first floor as well.” He turned to the set of stairs leading up. “Most of the third floor is private rooms that members can use for an hour or the night. They’re all different with various themes and equipment for private play.”

Liv digested the information. It was basically what she’d expected, but it wasn’t the answers she was seeking. Carter explained the logistics, not the experience. That was where the mystery was.

“Thanks for showing me,” she said, meaning it. She wandered into the Dungeon, weaving between a low bench and a wooden stockade that had been upgraded from the seventeen-hundreds’ model to include padded neck and wrist holes. Had Noah ever locked someone into it? “Do you know what they’re talking about downstairs?” she asked instead.

She skimmed her fingers over the edge of a large X-shaped cross, the wood smooth and cold. Had Vanessa strapped Holden into the cuffs and flogged his back? She passed a pommel horse, the top worn a deep brown from use. What about Jake and Cali or Deklan and Kendra—did they use this stuff? The silver choker that always hugged Cali’s neck took on a whole new meaning now.

Carter followed her into the space, his boots thumping on the wood floor where her tennis shoes had been silent. “The outpouring of support from the leather community has been surprising.”

“How so?” She passed a metal bar suspended from the ceiling, a set of cuffs dangling from the ends. Would Noah want to bind her into those? Then what? The memory of him holding her wrists over her head, his teeth on her nipple, the heat racing to her core as she let him, begged him for more, flashed in her mind. She sucked in a breath and turned away to focus on Carter’s reply.

“They see it as an attack on their community, not just The Den. Like you, they want to help. The Den is well respected in the area. They’re closing ranks and preparing to defend, similar to what we were doing yesterday, only on a larger scale.”

“I had no idea.” She caught their reflection in the large mirror that ran the length of the room on the far wall. She saw two people dressed in jeans looking out of place among the strange equipment. An echo of how she felt.

“It’s not that different from most close-knit families. You attack one, you attack them all.”

“Is that what happened with Harcourt last year?” She’d had some time today to look up the old stories on the internet. The coverage had been extensive and harsh. The media hadn’t been kind to either side, despite their claim to be reporting the truth. However, every story can be spun to show the most incriminating aspects.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t with Rock then.”

More questions. “Should we head back down?”

He sighed and nodded. “We can listen, but I don’t recommend butting in.”

“What? Are our opinions and ideas too lowly for the mighty Doms?” What an archaic mind-set.

“No.” The thud of his boots rebounded on the stairs as they headed down. “It just means more to them, and they’re all riled up and passionate about it right now. It’s
their
life and beliefs that are being attacked, not ours.”

She stopped outside of a set of big red doors at the end of the downstairs hall. “But we support them. We’re on their side.”

“True, but we’re not in it like they are.” He brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. “It’s like gay rights. You can be as open and supporting as you want, but it will always mean more to me because every biased opinion and unjust action against the community as a whole is a slight against who I am. A judgment intended to make me a lesser person based on who I love.”

The urge to argue his point was right there. She’d never stood for any type of discrimination. That was what he was talking about, a prejudice against a minority group. Heck, she championed the “at-risk” kids on a daily basis. Yet, outside of being female, she’d never been a minority. What
did
she really know about it?