Mine (Dangerous Love Book 1) (5 page)

Jane raised her hand to ring the bell next to the very imposing door in front of her and then hesitated. She could do this. She would do this. She was ready. She was dressed casually but comfortably, and she had an outfit in her bag to change into later for the hands-on portion of the night.

Hands on
. She felt her cheeks flame at the thought. The cheeks on her face. Although before the night was over, her other cheeks would probably be bright pink as well. The thought made her blush harder and made her feel… aroused?

She took a deep breath. Suddenly, a sound caught her attention. Her cab was leaving. She watched the headlights disappear into the early evening gloom. It wasn’t late, not quite six, but it was late October, and night came early this time of year. It was also Saturday night, and six was probably pretty early for the party crowd to be out and about.

She looked around. The area was quiet but not desolate. Club Hades was located in a former industrial area just east of downtown Chicago. It was clear that most of the buildings had been converted to upscale condos. On the main floor of many of the former factories were trendy boutiques, restaurants, and bars. These were all well-lit, and there were some people on the sidewalks.

Club Hades was located in a three story building, but there were no cute stores on the main level. There wasn’t even a name over the door telling visitors they were about to enter the most exclusive BDSM club in the Midwest.

She was actually standing at the side entrance where staff usually entered. From where she was, she could see the parking lot, which held maybe ten cars, probably staff who had come in early to get set up. There was room for maybe a hundred cars in total.

There were windows on all three floors, but the blinds were drawn. Or maybe these were interior walls blocking the windows so no one could sneak a peek at the activities going on inside.

It was well lit on the outside. Jane heard a sound and looked up. There was a camera over the door. Was someone watching her? She started to knock when she remembered the recessed button to the right of the door.
Duh!
She pressed it. She listened carefully, but she couldn’t hear anything.

She checked her watch. She couldn’t believe she was actually doing this.

She looked around. Things were moving so fast. She’d made the inquiry last week, and was told by the training coordinator that, if she didn’t join this session, there wouldn’t be another one starting for at least three months.

Normally, prospective trainees couldn’t just call out of the blue and sign up for training, but her friend Amanda had vouched for her. Too many people wanting to come out of curiosity as opposed to real interest, Amanda had explained. Most of the so-called
tourists
were harmless, just wanted to act out what they’d read in the books but running for the hills the first time someone brought out a cane. Some were so-called
journalists
looking to write a salacious story on the club.

There were also the
moralists
who looked down on the members and wanted to get them closed down. Even worse, were the abusers who thought they could use BDSM as a cover. Jane knew all about both of these types. Her mother’s family fell into the moralist category.

Her father, on the other hand, fell into the fourth category that wasn’t welcome at the club,
abuser
.

When her father gave her mother a black eye, her mother's parents had told their daughter she just had to work harder not to irritate him. When he’d put her in the hospital—not once but twice—they’d told her that she must be a terrible wife for him to have to do that. And when she finally left, taking eight-year-old Jane with her, they’d locked their door to their daughter and granddaughter for leaving her husband and abandoning her marriage vows.

Jane had watched her mother work two jobs and watch every penny to make it on her own. She studied accounting at night, and eventually, they’d been able to move from a studio apartment to their own small house. When she was thirteen, her mother had met a man who was the total opposite of her first husband. David Carrey was kind and thoughtful and couldn’t have loved Jane more if she’d been his own daughter. And he would never beat a woman down with either his fists or his words.

Her mom and dad—she considered David her real dad—were now retired in Arizona. She missed them both so much. But seeing the happiness on her mother’s face whenever she was with David… well, Jane couldn’t ask for more. David was so different from her bio-dad who had died in a bar fight the year after her mother left him. David was sweet and kind and gentle. He let her mother take the lead, and he was content to support her in any way her could. But that didn’t mean he was weak. He couldn’t lead a battalion of fire fighters if he was. He was an alpha male with enough self-confidence that he didn’t need to be an asshole to prove it.

Jane saw how happy he made her mother, but she didn’t think that kind of man was for her. She tried, really she did. She avoided the bad boys and dated the nice guys who seemed to have a lot in common with David. But those relationships all seemed to be missing a certain spark that she couldn’t put her finger on… until she read her first BDSM romance.

Then she couldn’t get enough of it. She’d read all about BDSM and what it meant to be a Dominant or a submissive. She read about sensation play, impact play, edge play, bondage, restraints, and the difference between punishment and play. And she’d read the novels, good and bad, mild and extreme.

She had a good idea of what turned her on, and the idea of submission called to her. Trust was a big part of the lifestyle, but it scared her. Because of her mother’s experiences, she found it nearly impossible to trust anyone. That’s why she’d never done more than read about it. Until now.

In addition to her regular job as a librarian, Jane wrote romance novels on the side. They were all hot, sexy romances with lots of sex. She had seven novels out when she had started her latest series,
Tinley Park,
about the men and women living in the fictional neighborhood of Tinley Park. The character Brad Coogan had a supporting role in the first two books of the series, but now, it was his turn for a starring role. She’d built his character up as a tough cop, a former bad boy who was now on the right side of the law; he was also a Dom.

The problem was that her readers were expecting a novel about a Dom, and that meant BDSM scenes. She tried to draw on what she’d learned from various novels, but the sex scenes just weren't working. So here she was at Club Hades for some hands-on research. But she had to be honest with herself. If this had been only about research, she wouldn’t be half so nervous.

Master Gabriel, the owner of the club, had thrown down a challenge.

“I’ll let you come and take the first class as research. No one but Amanda and I will know so that you'll get an authentic training experience. When you have completed the checklist, you may attend the classroom session, take the club tour, and even do a short scene. For research.

“After that, you are welcome to come back and take the remaining five classes. However, if you do, you’ll have to update your checklist, and you’ll be participating as a submissive trainee. No more research.”

Her heart had thudded in her chest at the thought. After the first session—if she came back—he told her it would be because she wanted to explore her submissive side; her novel was irrelevant. It would also be up to her who or if she told about the experience.

She took a deep breath to tell him that she didn’t have a submissive side, but she couldn’t get the words out. She’d tried to avoid thinking about it, but maybe writing about it in her novel was her subconscious telling her it was time to explore that side of her personality. Finally, she told him she’d think about what he said...after the first class.

She promised Master Gabriel she’d let a member of his choice review the book before she submitted it for publication. He was pleased by the offer and agreed. That was when he offered her the chance to attend the rest of the training class. The idea both thrilled and scared her.

Master Gabriel. How to describe him? She was a writer but if someone had asked, it would be challenging to find the right words. The external was easy. Tall, dark and handsome. Amanda had hinted that he used to be a SEAL, and she could see it in his powerful body. But it was his gaze that made her uncomfortable. It was too knowing. Thank goodness he wasn’t the one who would be handling her training.

She’d watched Amanda’s face closely as she’d described her encounter with Gabriel. Jane was pretty sure that Amanda had feelings for the remote and sexy Dom, but if she didn’t want to discuss her feelings, Jane would respect that limit.

Jane turned her thoughts back to her meeting with Gabriel. Did he know about her family background? If so, how was that even possible? She hadn’t even told Amanda. But when Master Gabriel looked at her, it was like he was looking inside her with those penetrating black eyes and saw all her secrets while giving away none of his own. Even the memory of that encounter made her shiver.

She had also found herself admitting to him that she'd studied the subject of BDSM. He had recommended some books and articles —including one that dealt with BDSM and abuse— and encouraged her to read them before the class.

Some were academic studies, which had surprised her for some reason. Others were fiction. She’d read most of them already including work by authors such as Cherise Sinclair and Lexi Blake and Diane Leyne.

But she’d kept her interest in the subject a secret. Thank goodness for eBooks! And she’d certainly never told a guy she dated the types of things she fantasized about. She was worried that they would think she was a freak or something. Maybe she was. She’d seen her mother beat up by an asshole who bore no resemblance to the Doms in the books she read. She’d also once walked in on sweet, gentle David spanking her mother’s bare ass and seen the look of absolute bliss on her mom’s face.

No wonder she was confused about what she wanted. So she continued to date the beta type male who wouldn’t challenge her or push her and certainly wouldn’t tie her up or flog her, even if she asked him to.

And that’s how she liked things. She did.

But why, oh why, had she made Brad a Dom, anyway? She’d been writing herself into a corner and getting nowhere when she revealed her frustration to Amanda.

She’d been friends with Amanda for about six months. They had met when Amanda started bringing her young niece to the library where Jane worked for Sunday story hour. They quickly became friends and had gotten into the habit of having lunch after Amanda’s sister-in-law picked up her daughter. They found they could talk about any and everything.

But they’d never talked about sex until Jane had told her about the problems she’d been having with her latest book. Amanda had taken a deep breath and looked like she was about to impart some seriously bad news and was expecting to be judged. Instead, Jane had been fascinated and had asked a million questions. Amanda had been relieved and was willing to talk. And help. Hence, Jane’s presence at Club Hades.

She wasn’t sure yet whether to be grateful or not for the recommendation.

Jane looked around. There was no sign of activity.

She wondered if she should press the button again. Or maybe she should go home and come back another time. If she did, she might not get another chance to enter Hades.

Even with Amanda's sponsorship, it seemed that Jane couldn’t just
sign up
. Her request for training had resulted in a flurry of emails asking her to fill out a questionnaire that felt more like an application for a loan than a temporary membership in a sex club. The application process concluded with the interview with Master Gabriel. And after making it this far, she wasn’t walking away now.

She couldn’t even lie to herself that it was just for her book. Filling out the BDSM check list had been the most exciting thing she’d done in years. No matter how scared she got, she was going through with this. For once in her life, she was going to take a chance and live a little. But only a little. She’d take the first training class so she could finish her book, but she had no interest in being some man’s submissive. None.

Then again, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to take all the classes. After all, they might come in handy for a future book.

She snorted. Why was she bothering to lie to herself? She was dying to find out if the reality lived up to her fantasies.

Jane snorted with laughter at the thought of a permanent Dom, though. Once she finished her training and had enough information to finish her book, she’d walk away from Club Hades without a backward glance, her curiosity about the lifestyle satisfied and with plenty of fodder for future books.

Then she’d find herself a nice man somewhere between her sweet stepfather and her jerk of a biological father, and live happily ever after writing novels and having children at regular intervals. But he wouldn’t be a Dom. Nope. Not a Dom. Even in her mind, the words had a hollow ring.

Nicholas “Nick” Bellamy maneuvered the big bike with the ease of long practice even with the ache in his thigh and the fatigue that was wearing him down. At this point, he’d been driving for three days and was almost on auto pilot. He just wanted to get home, or rather to the one place that felt like home even if he hadn’t been there since he was eighteen, almost half a lifetime ago.

The bike ate up the miles as he got closer and closer to his destination of Carrington Crossing, Washington, half an hour south of Seattle. This was the third day of his more than twelve hundred mile drive north from San Diego. Coronado, to be precise. Coronado, or rather the base on Coronado, had been where he lived for most of the last decade except when he was off on a mission. But that was now off limits now that he was an ex-SEAL.

He would miss it. He would not miss the hospital where he’d spent almost two months recovering from his
workplace injury
. He snorted. They’d stitched up his face just fine and there would be no long term repercussions with that, except maybe to make women and small children run screaming from him.

No, it was his left leg that was the problem. They’d saved it. He was grateful for that. But SEALs had to be in pretty much perfect physical shape. He would count it as a victory if he could ever again walk without a limp.

Everyone had been so nice to him until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He didn’t want to hear about how Max Cutter was now running the team. And when Max came to him for
advice
, he’d gritted his teeth and told him to what he thought was best. They were his men to command now, his to protect. It was almost worse when they didn’t come. That meant they were off on a mission without him.

And then there were the doctors and nurses and physiotherapists and all the damned people poking and prodding him until he wanted to scream. He wasn’t so stupid that he’d leave rehab early and jeopardize his own health long term, but he started counting the days until he could get out of there and go somewhere and be a hermit for a while.

A hermit. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. He’d find a nice cabin in the woods, but not too rustic. He needed running water and a nice bed. He’d spent the last thirteen years roughing it. Not anymore. And it had to be near a good sized grocery store with lots of variety. He didn’t hunt or fish and had no desire to learn. He’d spent the adult part of his life with a gun in his hand. He was finished with that part of his life.

Nick decided as soon as he got the all clear from the doctors, he would slip away from the rehab hospital without telling anyone he was going. He knew his men. If they were around when he left, they’d insist on throwing him a going away party. There would be drinking and revelry. Maybe even women. He was through with that now, though, even the women, not that any of them would now give him a second look nowadays.

Of course, he’d ever been a social butterfly even before the incident. According to his men, he’d always been a cranky son of a bitch, but he’d never lacked for opportunities, if he wanted them.

He’d also never been into one night stands, though. He’d always vaguely expected to get married and have a family, but not until he’d done his twenty years and retired from the SEALs. It was all a hazy vision based and there was no particular woman he saw in the role of wife.

Then he met Lainie. She lived in San Diego and worked as a hostess at a restaurant on Coronado. She was tall and thin and classy looking, emphasis on the word
looking
. He told her he wasn’t looking for a relationship. She told him she was working on her business degree and she was going to make something of herself. He had no idea, at the time, that what she was going to make herself was the wife of a SEAL. And her sights were set on him.

They’d been involved off and on for about three months when he accidentally knocked her up. Although it wasn’t part of his life plan, he’d done the right thing.  They’d drove five hours to Las Vegas got married by an Elvis impersonator. He’d moved them into the small on base housing for married couples with the promise that they’d look for something better when he got back.

Then he’d gone off on his next mission. When he got back, Lainie was no longer pregnant. Maybe she had never been. He’d never demanded proof. But he never questioned her. Never tried to make her feel bad. She was his wife and he’d try to be the best husband possible. They could make this work, he told her.

Their relationship quickly deteriorated. She’d romanced the idea of life as the wife of SEAL, but she hated the reality. Small house on the base. He was gone frequently on missions he couldn’t talk about. And the money wasn’t all that great. Finally, she’d given him an ultimatum before he’d left for his last assignment. Maybe he’d been distracted.  Maybe if he had been thinking less about his crappy personal life and more about the mission to rescue an American aid worker, he’d have been prepared for what descended into fighting for his life in hand to hand combat. 

Even after taking a knife to the face before subduing the aid worker’s captor, he should have realized things were too easy. It should have been harder to get to her and there should have been more than one guard. It was only when they were making their way out that they realized that their mission had been compromised and a half dozen insurgents were waiting for them.

In the end, his men had sustained a few minor injuries but nothing a few weeks R&R wouldn’t take care off.  It was the one good thing that had come out of that cluster fuck.  It had been him and not one of his men or the hostage who had paid for his carelessness.

Lainie had come to see him exactly once not long after his injury. Once. The military had flown her out to Germany where he was recuperating until he was well enough to be moved back stateside for more surgery.  His leg was still a huge mess, but it was his other injury that Lainie couldn’t stomach. He’d never forget the look on
her
face when she tried to look at him.

He’d been stitched up by the field medic. It wasn’t pretty but that could be fixed later if he felt the need. He was just grateful that Sid had been there with his handy medical kit so he didn’t bleed to death in that godforsaken hole. That was good enough for him.

Lainie didn’t even try to hide her revulsion. She’d tried to drop a kiss on the undamaged side of his face but she hadn’t even been able to manage that. She’d stayed maybe ten minutes before mumbling her excuses and fled.

The papers had been waiting for him when he got back to Coronado two weeks later. Clearly the divorce had already been in the works for a while from her end. Apparently she’d met a captain who was permanently stationed stateside. A paper pusher who would always come home for dinner at night and take her to fancy restaurants and shower her with nice things.

Not an idiot, he’d sent them to his own lawyer and let the two legal teams wrangle things out. If she thought he’d roll over and give her all his savings, or even half of them, after six months of marriage, most of which he’d spent in one hell hole or another, then she was sadly mistaken. In the end, she’d gotten her freedom and hadn’t made too large a dent in his bank account, just his heart. Or maybe it was his pride.

Lainie had packed his personal things, which after a lifetime of living on bases and wearing uniforms at work, fit into three large suitcases, and sent them to his Team Leader’s place since he had nowhere to store them in the hospital. Luke, in turn, promised to Nick when he got settled.

The doctors had finally given him the all clear to leave in a week as long as he promised to continue his physiotherapy when he got to where he was going. He gave them his word and he intended to keep it. He wasn’t stupid. He was not going to end up in a wheel chair if he could help it.

While he was waiting to get the all clear, he’d had a lot of time to think about where he was going. For all the attractions living as a hermit held, he couldn’t stop thinking about the house in Carrington Crossing that his Aunt Betsy and Uncle Frank owned. Technically they were his great aunt and uncle, but in some ways, they were like parents. He’d spent summers with them at their home in The Crossing, as it was locally known, while he was growing up. They were living full time in Arizona now and the house was standing empty. And it was his if he wanted it. It didn’t take much thinking about it to decide in the affirmative. It held good memories. It was home, or as much as a home as he’d ever had growing up.

Once he got his discharge date, he decided to slip out and head north. The only one he told was Luke who had promised to ship his stuff. He had sworn Luke to secrecy. The last thing he wanted was a fuss. He would go home and settle in and become a hermit. A hermit. Yup. That was the plan. He’d never been the most social person, but now, he didn’t want to see anyone. Or for them to see him. Forever. Or at least until he figured out what he was going to do with the rest of his life.

But somehow word had gotten out. Luke denied telling anyone but who else could it be? Nick couldn’t be too mad at the man who was his best friend. Luke came to the hospital to see Nick on a regular basis whether he was wanted a visitor or not. Luke had ignored his grouchy mien and requests to be left alone. He had also arranged for all of his men to come visit on a rotational basis so he was rarely alone for more than a day or two unless they were on a mission.

They tried to buoy his spirits with tales of all the pussy he could get as an ex-SEAL and how much better life would be now that he didn’t have to go places where he was going to be shot at. And when they found out he was trying to sneak out early, they decided to throw him a kick ass going away party to celebrate his official return to civilian life.

Celebrate.
That was one word for it. Celebrate the loss of the one job that he’d ever wanted. Celebrate the fact that he was alive, they’d countered, the fact that, limp or not, he could walk away from the service and start again.

That had shaken him to the core. There were so many who couldn’t. So many over the years who had never made it home. He was ashamed of his feelings, but they were still hard to shake. So when the men insisted on throwing him a goodbye party, he couldn’t really say no. He had tried to make the best of it.

Maybe he’d done too good a job, based on the throbbing in his skull and the roiling in his stomach as he roared north on his Harley.

They were a great bunch of guys and he’d miss them. But they had their lives in the service and he had to make a new life for himself. More than one had asked him why he couldn’t do that in San Diego. He had tried to explain that it would be too painful to be so close to when he had once had… and to keep seeing it... They’d assumed that he’d meant Lainie, but it was them, his comrades, his brothers in arms, he meant. Maybe one day, but right now seeing them was almost too much to bear.

It had been a hell of a sendoff. In the end, he had drunk too much tequila and had stayed up too long reminiscing. He ended up not leaving until almost noon. With the pounding in his head almost making him forget about the ache in his left thigh, and fighting through LA rush hour traffic, he’d only made it as far as San Luis Obispo before he had to call it a day.

He’d stopped for the night in a small mom and pop motel. After grabbing a bite to eat at the attached diner, he’d downed two pain killers and fallen onto the hard bed asleep almost before his head hit the pillow. He was out cold for ten hours straight waking stiff and grumpy, his head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton wool. But the pain in his thigh was down to a dull thud. This time he rode for over eleven hours stopping only for food and a couple of bio breaks. This took him to the outskirts of Eugene, Oregon.

He wanted to press on. He was only four hours away from his final destination, but the sun was setting and he was tired and that’s when accidents were most likely to happen. So he pulled into a motel that was almost a clone of the one he’d slept in the previous night. He decided not to take the pain pills. The result was tossing and turning most of the night. He awoke with mind clear, his body tired and his thigh aching.

Fuck.
Was there no middle ground?

Now at least the end of his long ride was in sight. Less than two hundred miles to Olympia, Washington. Then another fifteen to Carrington Crossing. Carrington Crossing aka The Crossing as it was known to locals. Home. For now. He wondered what the house would be like without Aunt Betsy and Uncle Frank, not that they had lived there full time in years. They’d been wintering in Arizona for over a decade and in the last few years had been staying there year round.

It had made things convenient for him to visit them when he was stationed in Coronado and easy for them to visit him when he had been hospitalized but it also meant that the house where he’d spent so many wonderful summers was now standing empty.

Part of him wondered if it would live up to his memories. Part of him didn’t care.  He was just glad that they hadn’t sold it.  It held so many good memories for him. He’d actually teared up when, at the end of the first of their many visits, Betsy had given him the key.

“Are you sure? I thought you were going to sell it.”

“We thought about it, but it’s been in the family for four generations. We were always hoping you’d want to raise the fifth in it.”

He’d felt his cheeks flush at his uncle’s words as he fought back the tears. Damned medicine making him maudlin, he’d told himself.