Siren in Bloom [Texas Sirens 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (9 page)

Why had she listened to the denizens of Deer Run? Everyone in her tiny hometown had been against her coming to Dallas. They had sworn she’d be raped and killed the minute she entered Dallas County. Apparently that was what happened to small-town women who dared to go to the big city. Well, that or she would become a drug-addicted prostitute.

What they didn’t say was that she’d gotten herself into trouble in a town like Deer Run, so how the hell would she stay out of it in Dallas?

She loved the city, and she’d almost never had to stand on the train. Dallas was filled with gentlemen. And almost no one knew about her past as the wife of the drug dealer and blackmailer. It had made a small splash in the press when Bryce’s blackmailing activities had come to light, but it had quickly been replaced when the next scandal came along.

But sometimes she wondered if it would always follow her around, like a stain that wouldn’t go away no matter how much she washed it.

She sighed and stared out the window. The train stopped at the next station, and there was a general jostling as people got on and got off. A large man stepped in and looked around for a seat. He waited as the women on the train moved into the open seats.

She was going home to her small townhouse where she would shower and maybe have a fortifying glass of wine before fixing herself up and heading to The Club. Not on a tour. Not as a designer getting ideas about a space.

As a sub. Wolf’s sub.

She smiled as the door closed, and the train jolted forward. Well, she’d been worried that maybe she would never be able to look at another man, but Wolf Meyer had put that thought firmly out of her mind.

Every hormone in her body had lit up and screamed like a teen at a pop concert. He was unbelievably masculine. Wholly beautiful. And kind.

And Leo’s brother.

Yeah, that was bugging her.

“Hi.”

She glanced up, pulled out of her thoughts by a masculine voice. She looked up and smiled back. The man was big, almost too big for the seat he was squeezed into. He sat directly in front of her, and a well-dressed woman settled into the seat next to her, a gorgeous designer bag in her lap.

The bag caught Shelley’s eye. She loved beautiful things. It was why she’d become a designer. She couldn’t sew for crap so she’d put her eye for fashion into making living spaces lovely and comfortable, but she still loved clothes and bags and shoes. It took all she had not to drool over that bag. Quilted and black, with gold braided satchel-like handles, the bag stood out on the dreary train. It was Versace. Handmade. She’d seen it at the Versace store the week before when she’d walked through NorthPark Mall looking for a little inspiration. She’d taken pictures of the straps thinking she could use it as a takeoff place for decorating the bar that served as the entryway to The Club.

That was one amazing-looking bag. Her own paled in comparison. And the laptop bag at the woman’s side was a work of art, too.

“Well, I can see I have nothing on a pretty purse.” There was a wealth of masculine deprecation in the words.

She looked up into laughing gray eyes. Damn. She’d been terribly rude. “Sorry. It’s a stunning bag.”

“Thanks,” the woman beside her said, patting the $2500 bag. Shelley had checked the price tag and remembered that she didn’t have her husband’s blood money to rely on anymore. Not that he’d shared it. She’d been forced to work in a bar just to pay her mother’s medical bills.

“I saw it just a couple of days ago. I couldn’t help but admire it,” Shelley said, trying not to think about a life that hadn’t been real in the first place.

The cool blonde nodded and held the bag to her chest. “Normally I wouldn’t carry it on the train. My ride got stuck at the firm, and I had a long day in court. I wasn’t willing to wait, but now I’m wondering. I feel like I need an armed escort.”

The handsome man in front of them saluted with a little flair. “I’ll be happy to apply for the job, ma’am. Steve Holder. Non-active duty Navy SEAL.”

The woman next to Shelley blushed and muttered something about feeling so much safer.

“Hi. I’m Shelley McNamara. I seem to be surrounded by ex-SEALs these days,” Shelley said, shaking her head as a young man in a hoodie took the seat across from Designer Bag Lady. He kept his head down, bobbing to music only he could hear.

Holder laughed a bit. He had a jagged scar that ran down his cheek, but his smile seemed genuine. Shelley could definitely buy that he was ex-military. He looked like he’d kept up the workout regime. His shoulders were massive, his neck corded with muscle. “There’s no such thing as an ex-SEAL, ma’am. A SEAL’s a SEAL. We old guys just don’t get to play anymore. But it’s funny you should say that. I can’t seem to find any. I was in town talking to some clients and tried to look up an old teammate of mine. He works at a club now as a therapist.”

Seriously? No. She sighed and asked the question anyway. “Leo Meyer?”

Holder pointed at her, his eyes widening in surprise. “Yeah. Wow. You know Leo?”

Leo seemed to be everywhere today. “We work for the same man.”

“Julian Lodge.” Holder nodded his head. “Yeah, I read up on him when I found out Leo was working for him. He’s an interesting man. He’s got quite the reputation, though I wonder how much is hype and how much is true.”

Designer Bag Lady looked up, her perfectly painted mouth dropping open. “You work for Julian Lodge? The infamous Julian Lodge? Tell me something—is that man as hot in person as he is in pictures?”

Shelley smiled and nodded. Her boss was a lovely man. “I’m redecorating his building. Yes, he’s gorgeous, but he’s also happily married.”
And to more than one person
. She didn’t say that out loud. Julian jealously guarded his privacy. “And his wife is pregnant.”

That was one he hadn’t been able to hide. Pictures of Dani had made the society pages just the week before.

“Damn it. All the hot ones are taken.” She grinned. “It doesn’t hurt that he’s also a billionaire.”

Her cell phone rang, and she picked it up, leaving Shelley alone, talking to Holder.

“So how is Leo doing?” Holder asked, his big, callused hands on his knees. He leaned forward, curiosity on his face.

How was Leo? He was gorgeous and remote and impossible to forget. “He’s fine. He’s made a good life for himself. He was my brother’s therapist. I can safely say the man is a miracle worker.”

She didn’t mention that the club he worked at was an infamously private BDSM club. She glanced out the window as the train stopped again. Two stops left, and then she would get out and walk the block and a half to her place and try to convince herself she wasn’t making a horrible mistake. She didn’t have long until Wolf would knock on her door.

Why hadn’t he let her come back on her own?

Holder continued on. “I can believe it. He was the go-to guy when you needed a good talk. He would listen to everyone. Man, I remember Leo. He was always a flirt. He was a great guy, but he was all about the chase, you know what I mean? I was surprised when I found out he got married.”

Her heart nearly stopped. She turned back to Holder, praying she wasn’t flushing. Leo had been married? He’d never once mentioned he’d been married. And she’d never noticed him flirting with other women. He’d always been so focused on her when he’d been around her. “I never thought of him as a flirt.”

Holder snorted a little. “God, he was the biggest flirt on the team. We called him Casanova. And he preferred his women to be unavailable. I don’t think he ever actually cheated with any of them, but he liked to play around when there wasn’t any possibility of commitment.”

She felt her whole body go hot with embarrassment. She was torturing herself over a man who hadn’t bothered to mention that he was divorced. She’d told him almost everything. She’d spent hours on the phone with him. Ostensibly they had been talking about Trev and how to handle him and how to deal with his drug and alcohol problems, but she’d found herself telling the handsome counselor everything about her life.

And he hadn’t really talked about his life. Maybe because she wasn’t really important.

“And he was great at riding in and saving women,” Holder continued. “He was a white knight, if you know what I mean. I remember this town we were liberating from the Taliban. There were bombs going off everywhere. We were taking crazy fire and Leo’s running through the flames of a house carrying a woman and her baby. I really admired the hell out of him.”

She’d been in trouble, and Leo had tried to ride in. He was a Dom with deep protective instincts. She’d been everything he couldn’t resist. She’d been right. If she’d laid her problems at Leo’s feet, he likely would have gone straight to Bryce and gotten himself killed.

She had to let him go. He’d been good to her. She couldn’t blame him for not loving her back. It wasn’t his fault, but she could damn well blame herself for not moving on. She’d been standing still for over a year. Everyone thought she’d been mourning her marriage, but it had been Leo she’d mourned.

And it was time to move on.

She gave Holder what she hoped was a gracious smile as the train began to slow. “This is my stop. It was nice to meet you.”

Holder held out his hand and she shook it. He passed her his business card. “You, too, ma’am. And if you see Leo, give him my card. Let him know I’d just like to have lunch, catch up. His secretary seemed a little confused, so I’m not sure he got my message.”

Kitten Taylor. Yeah. She was a trip. She was absolutely the subbiest woman Shelley had ever met. She made Beth look like a warrior princess. She’d probably gotten flustered at Holder’s commanding voice. “I’ll let him know.” She slipped the card into her purse. She nodded to Designer Bag Lady and stood just as the doors opened.

And immediately was back in her seat as the young man in the hoodie shoved out, his hands slamming against her chest. There were startled gasps as the young man grabbed the beaten-up leather laptop bag at her feet and leapt off the train, shoving passengers aside. Shelley scrambled to get up, reaching for the bar at the end of the seat. He’d taken her bag. She clutched at her purse, her heart pounding, a rage starting to take over. She got to her feet and pushed her way out. Her heels hit the concrete and she looked around, searching for the little shit who had her bag, and more importantly, her laptop.

He was rushing down the stairs, pushing aside anyone in his way. A woman got knocked down. He simply leapt over the railing and ran toward the street.

She had to catch that little shit. Why was she wearing three-inch heels? She was going to try anyway.

“Don’t.” A hand held her back. Holder stood behind her as the train rushed away.

“He has my laptop.” It had all her work on it. All her designs. All her thoughts. All the pictures she’d taken and sketches she’d made. Damn it. Her life was on that laptop.

“He also might have a knife or a gun,” Holder said, his grasp on her arm tightening. “I’ve already called the cops. They’re on their way.”

She could hear the sirens, but it would be too late. The thief was gone. She searched the crowd below, but he’d run toward the shopping center with its stores and restaurants and businesses. It was thick with rush-hour traffic. She couldn’t see him.

She clenched her fists and waited for the cops.

Wolf slammed the door to his massive black truck and looked at the little townhouse Shelley was living in. According to what he’d heard, it was much smaller than the huge, rambling near-mansion she’d shared with her husband before the feds had seized most of their assets.

Did she miss it? The wealth? The standing in her community? He couldn’t give her either.

He was a guest in his brother’s condo.

And it looked like she had a guest, too.

Her door opened, and a man stepped out. He was a large, bulky man. Even from his place in the parking lot, he could see that the man was at least former military if not still in the service. Shelley nodded at something he said and then he patted her shoulder and turned.

Fuck all. Steve Holder. What the hell was Holder doing with his sub?

Holder’s gaze seemed to focus, and a little smile came over his harsh face. “Wolf fucking Meyer. Small world.”

Holder walked toward him, his hand out.

Yeah, it was way too fucking small a world. What the hell was Holder doing here? Everyone in the military knew Steve Holder had set up a “security” company named White Acres based in Atlanta. He loved to recruit special ops guys, though it always had seemed a little shady to Wolf. He turned to Shelley and saw telltale signs that she’d been upset.

“Sweetheart, you want to tell me what’s going on?” Wolf asked, checking his first instinct to get in Holder’s face.

“My laptop bag got stolen,” she said, her hand on the doorsill. Her warm brown eyes were wary as she looked between the two men.

“I was sitting across from her on the train. I saw the whole thing happen. I tried to help her out,” Holder explained.

“You didn’t stop the thief?” Wolf asked, a little surprised. Holder might not be a SEAL anymore, but Wolf knew damn well he’d kept up his training.

Holder laughed a little. “You obviously have never been on DART at rush hour. I couldn’t get to him. And, honestly, I’ve been behind a desk for too long.” He turned back to Shelley. “I’m sorry. I really should have been able to catch the little fuck, but my knees aren’t what they used to be.”