Wicked Lovers 05 Belong to Me (41 page)

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Authors: Shayla Black

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Erotica, #Adult

BOOK: Wicked Lovers 05 Belong to Me
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“That’s acceptable.” Jordan turned to him. “Her hard limits?”
Crap, they’d never had the opportunity to actually discuss these. He’d been too busy fucking her to ask. Shit, he hated to miss details, but now he had to wing it. “Cutting, branding, piercing—anything permanent. No bodily functions, blood, or breathplay. And no sex with multiple partners or strangers.”
With that, it should be very clear to Jordan that he wasn’t getting a piece of Cherry.
“Is this a full and complete list, sub?”
Tara looked at him, as if seeking direction, then she nodded. “What he said, Sir.”
Hearing her call another Dom “Sir” bugged the shit out of Logan. It bugged him more that he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
Jordan nodded. “Her soft limits?”
“Hot wax and anal.” Logan stroked his chin, trying to think of limitations that would inhibit the dungeon creep’s ability to steal her away. “She doesn’t like being blindfolded or gagged.”
“Duly noted. Anything else you’d like to add, sub?”
She shook her head.
“Very well. Let’s see how you use the equipment.” He gestured to the spanking bench.
Logan attached cuffs to her wrists, then clipped them into the restraints on each side of the apparatus. She sent him a nervous glance. He wanted so badly to reassure her that he wouldn’t leave her side and would act as a buffer between her and Jordan, but he couldn’t give her more than an encouraging glance. He finished with ankle cuffs and a spreader bar.
As he straightened up, Jordan handed him a four-foot single-tail whip. “I presume you know how to use this and find it acceptable?”
“I know how to use it, though I prefer a six-footer.”
Jordan scowled. “They’re unpredictable.”
Logan smiled. “Unpredictable is what I do best. But in this sub’s case, I must add whipping to her list of soft limits. Spanking by hand or crop in small doses, yes. Whip or cane, no.”
“You’re bringing along a soft little sub.” The dungeon master’s tone held a note of contempt that made Logan want to pound his face.
“That’s exactly the way I like her.”
“She’d be a better sub with her horizons expanded. While she’s here, we should work on that.”
We?
As if Jordan had any rights or say-so over Cherry? If Logan wasn’t playing a part for this mission, he’d open up a huge can of badass on this pretentious little fuck and let him know unequivocally that he had no part in her training or her life.
“Maybe,” Logan forced himself to say.
Jordan could barely tamp down his superior smirk. “I’ll think on it and map out a plan.”
And I will shove your balls down your throat and make you thank me for it.
A big leather-clad Dom wielding a whip and wearing a mask ran into their scene, exuding an urgency that immediately put Logan on alert. “Master Jordan, there’s been a fight in the orgy room. It’s turning into a melee. Mr. Kantor sent me to find you.”
Concern washed over the dungeon master’s face. “Damn!” He took in the monogram on the new Dom’s shirt. “Stay here with these two. They aren’t to leave this scene until they’ve completed their safety drill.”
“I’ve got it. Go!”
Jordan dashed off like his ass was on fire, so Logan turned to the masked dungeon monitor. “Look, we were nearly done, and I’ve been studying and practicing this lifestyle for nearly ten years, so—”
“No shit, Logan.” The stranger ripped off his mask.
Shock blanched Logan. “What the fuck are you doing here, Xander?”
Chapter Fifteen
 
“G
REAT to see you, too,” Xander shot back.
Logan’s mind raced, trying to reconcile seeing his buddy in the middle of his mission. “Did Bocelli send you after all?”
“Nope. He’d probably kill me if he knew I’d come, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized I could help. I know this place. Everyone who works here signs a contract that prohibits you from saying anything about any guest to anyone, other than staff. That fucking thing is tighter than a straitjacket. You’re not going to learn jack shit from any employee if you don’t have an in. Which is why I begged for my old job back, and what do you know? One of their resident Doms met up with an unfortunate hiking accident just this morning. Broken ankle; he’ll recover. But they needed
someone
to fill in.” He grinned.
With a shake of his head, Logan leaned in and murmured, “We’re probably not going to get any info, anyway. The remote control in our room had a bug placed inside and our luggage had been searched. Unless you’re going to tell me that’s standard operating procedure here, then I think they knew who we were before we even walked in the door.”
Xander recoiled. “It’s been a few years since I worked here, but that isn’t the SOP I remember. I mean, yeah, they search the luggage to confiscate any video or audio recording equipment. They started that after a high-profile blackmail incident a few years ago. If Bocelli had given you all the literature they send once you book your reservation, you would have read that. But bugging the rooms . . .”
Because it really didn’t make sense. Why spy on all their guests? Though a small, exclusive resort, there was no way that they could listen to all those conversations at once or even record them for later playback unless they hired a whole staff twenty-four/seven. And why bother?
Logan piped up, “There’s only one conclusion, man: Someone at Fantasy Key knows why we’ve come.”
“Not necessarily. Even a few years ago, some of the staff liked to abuse their powers. They’d electronically eavesdrop on certain guests they found . . . intriguing.”
As Jordan had certainly found Cherry. That conclusion was disconcerting, but more palatable than someone nefarious knowing that he and Tara were here on behalf of the FBI to break up their sex slave ring.
“It’s possible, but I can’t prove if it’s that or something else. Until then, it’s better to work off the assumption that the listening device was more suspicious than lecherous. For that reason, you need to act like you don’t know me. Pretend to run through the rest of this safety scene and we’ll meet up after.”
With a nod, Xander made a production of covering the checklist again, then signing off and handing a copy of the form to Logan, who took it from his pal. On it, he’d written:
 
Meet me on the east beach in ten.
 
“Thanks.”
Xander looked around to see if anyone was watching, but the room wasn’t very busy yet, and everyone seemed to be going about their business. “I’ll see what I can find out.” Then he spoke up again. “Play safe. Be sure to find a member of the staff if you need any help or have any questions.”
With that, he walked off. Logan leaned over to Cherry, who’d remained surprisingly quiet during the exchange.”
“Did you hear all that?” he asked, leaning to whisper in her ear.
“Most. The music is a little loud. I heard Xander say why he’s here, but don’t you find his presence a little suspicious?”
If he were anyone else, Logan would wonder what kind of shit he was up to. But Xander had always been unpredictable. His buddy was more than a little closemouthed about himself, but Logan knew he came from money—so much of it that bankers had to physically count the number of zeros in his family’s balances. Though smart as hell and go-getting when he wanted to be, Xander had never held a real job. One thing Logan did know: The man never liked to miss out on the action, especially if he could make mischief right in the middle of it.
“No. It’s just Xander being Xander. But we’ll have to watch him. If he’s decided to help us, he’ll throw caution to the wind.”
“Which could be destructive for us all.” Tara frowned as Logan unclipped her cuffs and removed them. “What are you doing? Aren’t we supposed to scene?”
“It’s optional right now. I’d rather take a walk on the beach.”
 
SOMETHING about the look on Logan’s face told her this walk was more important than establishing their dynamic as the obedient sub to his indifferent Dom.
“All right. Lead the way.”
No one’s head turned as they slipped out the door, through the lobby, and out a side exit. Past a small parking lot full of resort vehicles and a foul Dumpster, they followed a stone-laden path between a few palm trees, away from prying eyes, toward the sound of waves breaking.
As she felt sand beneath her toes and smelled salt in the air, Logan grabbed her hand and held it in his. The moon hung heavy and surprisingly bright, and Tara wished for one moment that she and Logan were here for romance, without a care in the world.
But she needed to put frivolous wishes aside and focus on saving Darcy. Tara wondered if her friend even knew she was scheduled to die horrifically in a gang-rape snuff film in a few days. She tensed, gripping Logan’s hand.
“You okay?”
Now wasn’t the time to break down. “Trying to keep it together. Why are we out here?”
“Xander wanted us to meet him. No idea why. Like everything he does, we’ll have to wait and find out when he deigns to tell us.”
“Ouch,” Xander said suddenly, emerging from behind a little cabana, then winked at her. “I try to help out and this is the thanks I get from my old pal, despite providing one of the few places on the island that I know isn’t covered by surveillance. And for arranging Freddy in maintenance to get you a new remote for your TV that isn’t bugged. Sheesh. How are you, gorgeous?”
Tara couldn’t help but grin. He was incorrigible. “A little stunned to see you.”
“No way I was going to miss out on this action. Got anything yet?”
She and Logan exchanged a glance, then he gestured to her. It touched her that the big, bad Dom was willing to step aside and let her lead. Yes, it was her case, but Logan could have made her bow to his greater experience, if he’d wanted to push it.
“Not much. It’s all hunches so far.” Choosing her words carefully, she told him about her episode with the dungeon master and the manager just before orientation. “But other than Jordan being stalkerish and Kantor taking stock of me like a product, I’ve got nothing.”
Xander nodded. “I still have friends here, some of the resident Doms, wait and security staff, bartenders. Kantor took over for my old boss, Ms. Newmann, after she was abruptly fired. The rumor mill said the reclusive owner caught her skimming money.”
“Anyone know this reclusive owner’s name?” Tara asked without a lot of hope. If the FBI hadn’t been able to figure it out, chances were Xander didn’t know squat.
“Not me. If Newmann knew, she didn’t share. Anyway, about six months ago this mystery owner brought Kantor on board. No one likes him. I mean,
no one
.”
“Six months ago,” Tara said. “About the time girls started disappearing.”
“I doubt that’s a coincidence,” Logan drawled.
“Which means we should assume that, whatever is going on, he’s in on it.”
“Pretty safe assumption, I think. I met the guy earlier this afternoon. I didn’t like him, and vice versa. But I knew that, being short a Dom, he was in a bind. Being beholden to me clearly pissed him off. I think he’s definitely worth looking into.”
“Did Bocelli have any information on him?” Logan asked her. “Did he brief you about him at any point?”
“Yeah, early on, we got a file on most of the management. Kantor’s is sketchy and says nothing out of the ordinary. He came from an upper-middle-class family in New Jersey, went to Princeton. By all accounts, he’s a smart guy.”
“With all the personality of a bleeding hemorrhoid.” Xander grimaced.
Tara couldn’t not laugh. “The rest of his background is nondescript. He’s been working at hotels his whole life. Married young. Divorced after three years. No kids. No girlfriends, no glaring debts, no ties to any sort of criminal activity. On the surface, he looks perfect.”
Logan shook his head. “We don’t have to prove why Kantor is neck deep in this shit, just that he is.”

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