Keeping Kiera (A MFM Menage Romance) Page 7

  Our desire last night had been real. Not a lie.

  “I’m really surprised they told you about Lina,” Fiona continues, holding my gaze. “None of them talk about what happened. If they told you, they really like you, enough to take you into their confidence. You’re not walking into a hook-up tonight. It’s something more serious than that. And if you’re hiding something from them… well, it’s not a good idea.”

  Goosebumps rise on my skin.

  “Kiera?” Dix asks gently. “Is everything okay?”

  I take a deep breath and make a decision that feels momentous. Fiona is with Brody and Adrian; the two men own one of the best private security firms in the world. Dixie is protected by Xavier Leforte. It’s time to tell my friends the truth about my past.

  “You wanted to know why I’m going to scene with Caleb and Nolan.” My fingers crumple the end of a paper napkin and then straighten it out. “My last name isn’t O’Leary. It’s Thompson. I changed it when I entered the witness protection program.”

  I don’t look at their faces. “Eight years ago, I saw a Russian mafia boss shoot two of his people in the head. They’d tried to steal from him.” Crumple and straighten. Less messy than tearing the paper napkin to shreds. “Later that night, there was a huge fire in the same bar. My fifteen-year-old sister Bianca was burned to death, as was her deadbeat boyfriend, Greg Dratch. Greg was Sirkovich’s IT guy.”

  Bianca’s body was so badly burned in the fire that the charred figure looked nothing like my sister. The facial features had been burned off. All was left was a human-shaped lump.

  Dixie’s face betrays her horror.

  “I testified against Sirkovich.” The edge of the napkin, weakened by my repeated fiddling, starts to tear. “I did it for Bianca. It was my responsibility to keep her safe, and I failed. I had to make amends.” I wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs. “The rest of the story is simple enough. Sirkovich got life in prison, and I entered witness protection. I moved around a lot at the start. This is the longest I’ve ever been in one place.”

  “Three years?”

  “Three years, five months and seventeen days, if we’re being precise.” I fall silent once again as the waiter refills our coffee. I ignore my full cup. I feel jittery. My body is filled with a nervous energy that’s making the corner of my eye twitch. I’ve never told anyone this story.

  “That’s the reason you don’t date,” Fiona breathes. “You don’t think it’s right for you to be happy.” Her voice fills with sadness. “Oh, Kiera.”

  The sadness will overwhelm me if I let it. “I don’t date because it isn’t fair to draw someone into this mess.”

  Fiona doesn’t correct me, though I can tell from the expression on her face that she wants to. Dixie leans forward. “Why did you ask if Nolan worked for the Russians?”

  With each word I speak, I make them a part of my problems. It’s not fair to them. I should shut up.

  “Kiera,” Dixie prompts, her eyes narrowing. “Fiona runs a private detective agency. I know I don’t look like a badass, but trust me, I’m capable of taking care of myself. If you’re beating yourself up about involving us, stop it. We’re your friends. We’re already involved.”

  “I saw a photo of Greg Dratch on one of their laptops.” My fingers tremble as I reach for the cup of coffee I don’t need. “Why? Why now, after all these years?”

  Fiona frowns. “Why don’t you ask them?”

  It’s an obvious question, but I don’t have a good answer. I know I need to find out how Caleb and Nolan are connected to Dratch, but there’s a small, secret part of me that would prefer not to know the truth. Last night had been so magical. If I ask them about Greg and I don’t like what I hear… Maybe I want to bury my head in the sand just a little bit longer, and cling to my illusions.

  Dixie notices my hesitation. “We’ve got your back, Fiona. You’re not in this alone. Now, let’s change the topic.” Her smile turns mischievous. “Were you with Caleb and Nolan last night? Tell us everything. Are they hung like horses?”

  14

  Caleb

  Ellie emails us the pictures of Bianca Thompson from the party in Colombia. I look through them. In a couple of the photos, the blonde woman is smiling tightly at the camera. The diamond choker around her neck looks like a collar. I hand Nolan my phone, and he surveys the image expressionlessly. “What do you think? Does she look happy?”

  “Let’s find her and ask.”

  “If she’s still alive. People associating with the Colombian cartels don’t have long life expectancies.”

  Nolan leans back, propping his legs on the coffee table. “You want to pull Megan Matuki off the search for Dratch and put her on this?”

  “No need. I have more than one competent analyst.” I dial Derek Haas. Just twenty-three, the kid is smart, talented, and fiercely ambitious. This is the sort of challenge he’d relish.

  He picks up on the first ring. “Mr. Reeves.”

  He sounds like he’s standing at attention. “Call me Caleb, Derek. Everyone does. Question for you. Who’s my best analyst?”

  “Megan.” He sounds sulky.

  “Here’s your chance to narrow the gap. I just emailed you some pictures.”

  “One second, Mr. Reeves.” I hear the ping of his email, and then he’s back on the line. “Yup. Got them.”

  “Those photos were taken two and a half years ago at a Christmas party in Cali, Colombia. The woman’s name is Bianca Thompson.” I reel off her social security number.

  Derek must be in front of his computer because I can hear the clack of keys. “It says here that she died eight years ago in San Diego when she was fifteen. Cause of death unknown.”

  “She didn’t die when she was fifteen.”

  “Obviously,” he says, sounding distracted. Nolan bites back a grin. “You want me to find her?”

  “Yes. Today, please, if you can. Her social media accounts haven’t been active for eight years. She’ll be using an alias. Look in all the usual places. Instagram, Facebook, you know the drill.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I hang up. Nolan quirks an eyebrow. “Who’s my best analyst? Is that meant to be a motivational speech?”

  I grin. “It is if you’re Derek Haas. The kid’s been gunning for Megan’s job ever since he joined. One way or another, we’ll have an answer tonight.”

  Please be alive, Bianca Thompson.

  All day, I wait for the phone to ring, for Kiera to call off this whole thing. I want to sleep with her; I’m not going to lie. But I always thought that if we slept together, it’d be because she wanted me. Not because she wanted to pump me for information.

  Kiera could have asked me about Dratch’s photo. She hasn’t. She doesn’t trust us enough to ask us a direct question, nor does she trust us enough to share the details of her past. Knowing that, I can’t scene with her tonight. There’s no way. Dominance and submission, is, above everything else, about trust. About knowing that the person who is tying you up has your safety and well-being at heart.

  Last night was amazing. Kiera was incredible. The way she tasted… She gasped softly and called out my name as she came. Her voice rings in my ears, lives in my brain.

  Last night was everything I’ve fantasized about. But unless we can be honest with each other, there will be no repeat. Kiera matters too much for me to pretend otherwise.

  15

  Kiera

  “You’re joking.” Dixie and Fiona stare at me as if I’ve grown a second head. “Tell us you’re joking.”

  I swallow my sigh. My girlfriends don’t think I should scene with Nolan and Caleb tonight. I’ve heard their protests for the last twenty minutes. “You know we’ll find out what’s going on,” Dix says. Again. “You don’t have to sleep with them to learn the truth.”

  I believe Dixie; she’ll get answers. There’s no earthly reason to go through with my insane plan. And yet… I can’t seem to stop myself.

  “What if I want to?” I ask my frien
ds mildly. “I mean, I’ve been flirting with Caleb for months. Nolan’s a good-looking guy. I’d be a fool not to be attracted to them.”

  They open their mouths to argue with me, and I hold up my hand. “I’m not changing my mind.”

  Fiona frowns at me, clearly unhappy with my plan. “Fine,” Dixie says after a long pause. “You’re an adult. You have the right to make your own decisions, stupid as they are. I’ll be at the club tonight. Just in case.”

  She tilts her chin up, daring me to challenge her. “Are you going to interfere?” I ask.

  “I’ll sit in a corner and glower at Caleb and Nolan,” she says. “But I won’t do anything else.”

  I picture Dix, who weighs less than a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet, giving Caleb and Nolan death glares, and the image makes me laugh. “Fair enough.” I toss some money on the table and get to my feet. “I’ve got to go home and change. See you tonight, Dix. Fiona, will you be there too?”

  She nods vigorously. “Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  Great. That’s what I really need tonight. An audience.

  I start my shift at seven. Normally, I am too busy to think, but tonight, I’m incredibly distracted. I keep looking at my phone every five minutes to see if one of the guys has texted me. Adrian and Brody will sometimes give Fiona instructions on what she’s to wear to the club. I thought that Caleb might do something similar, but he doesn’t call.

  Maybe he’s changed his mind about tonight.

  “You’re jumpy.” Farid reaches over me to get at the beer taps. “What’s going on?”

  I dance out of his way to give him room. “I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

  He gives me a sympathetic look. “No air-conditioning?”

  Caleb’s house was perfectly cool. When I eventually went to sleep, I slept well. But I seize on the offered explanation. It’s not like I can tell Farid the truth. “Thank heavens there’s rain in the forecast.”

  Dix comes in at eight. She’s wearing a shimmering gray dress with complicated shoulder straps. She draws several admiring looks from the men in the room. Ignoring them all, she makes her way straight to the bar. “Well?” she demands. “Any sign of the dangerous duo?”

  “No.” I look around to make sure there’s no one within earshot. “Maybe they’re going to stand me up.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, Kiera. You’re amazing. They’re lucky you want them. They’re not going to stand you up. If they do, I promise you that I’ll personally knee them in the groin.” She chuckles. “It won’t be a hardship. Really.”

  I bite back my smile. “Down, sparky. Want a glass of white wine?”

  “Yes please.”

  At half-past-nine, Caleb finally walks into the club. I’m busy with customers, but I notice the second he appears at the entrance, and my heart skips a beat.

  For an instant, I forget everything that’s happened since last night. Xavier’s warning. Greg Dratch’s photo. The reason I asked to scene with Caleb and Nolan tonight. For an instant, when Caleb Reeves walks into Club Ménage as if he owns it, nothing else matters except that he’s here. For me.

  He’s wearing a black suit tonight. His shirt is grey. No tie. He’s gorgeous. I can’t stop staring at him.

  He holds my gaze in his as he walks up to the bar. “Hello, Kiera,” he says, sitting down. Dix is scowling at him, but he doesn’t notice.

  His mouth was on my pussy last night. His talented tongue licked my clit until I came, screaming and flailing. “Mr. Reeves.”

  His lips curl up. “Is that how we’re playing it?”

  His voice is a soft growl that sends shivers through me. “At ten, I’ll obey.” My hands are trembling. I set the glass I’m holding down on the counter before I break it. “Until then, not so much.”

  His fingers brush mine, a fleeting touch. He glances at his watch, a smile playing about his lips. “Seems reasonable.”

  That watch probably costs more than a year’s rent. I try not to let that thought bother me. “Would you like a drink?”

  “Yes, please.” Laughter dances in his eyes. “I’d like a Harvey Wallbanger.”

  “Wallbanger. Funny.” I grin at him. “I thought you would have asked for a Blowjob.”

  He shakes his head. “Too obvious. Unimaginative.”

  Will he ask me for a blowjob tonight? Will he order me on my knees, free his erection and slide his thick cock into my mouth? Anticipatory goosebumps rise on my skin. I take a deep, shaky breath. “Your drink,” I stutter. “I’ll make it.”

  Thankfully, the Harvey Wallbanger is an easy drink to make. Conscious of his gaze, I fill a glass with ice, pouring the vodka and orange juice, and topping it up with a Galliano float. “Here you go.”

  “Thank you.”

  Just as he takes a sip, Nolan walks into the club, also in a suit. He’s not alone. He’s locked in an animated conversation with two men. I’ve seen them before, but I don’t know their names.

  Nolan comes up to the bar. “Kiera.” He catches sight of Dix, and his smile brightens. “Dixie Ketcham. It’s a small world. I thought you were in Louisiana.”

  “Mississippi,” she corrects. She doesn’t look at the two guys that flank Nolan. “I moved. How are you, Wolanski?”

  “Can’t complain,” he says easily. “You still working for Lockhart & Payne?”

  “No, Xavier Leforte hired me.”

  Nolan’s lips twitch. “That sounds like Xavier.” He indicates the two men on either side of him. “Have you met Eric and Hunter? Eric Kane, Hunter Driesse, Dixie Ketcham.”

  Dixie’s voice is coated with frost. “Unfortunately, yes.”

  Huh. Interesting reaction. I’ve never seen Dixie be rude to anyone, ever. Until now.

  The guy Nolan introduced as Eric Kane laughs out loud. “Tell us what you really think, Dixie. Don’t hold back.” He smirks at her. “I’m surprised to see you here. What did you call the club the last time we met? Oh right, a place for men with small dicks to boss around women who are too dumb to know better.”

  Dixie says something in response that I don’t manage to catch. Nolan grins and moves away from the arguing threesome, snagging a seat next to Caleb. I walk up to him. “Can I get you something to drink, Mr. Wolanski?”

  Caleb lifts his hand up and glances at his watch. His smile deepens. “You’re out of time, sweetheart,” he says. “And, if I’m not mistaken, your replacement just arrived.” His green-gray eyes rest on me. “There’s a private room with your name on it. Are you ready?”

  Am I ready for this? Not in the slightest.

  I feel Dix’s worried gaze. Fiona’s arrived as well, and she too looks concerned. This is my chance to back down.

  I lift my head up. “I’m ready if you are.”

  I grew up in San Diego; I loved the beach. Whenever I could, I'd escape there. I'd slather myself with sunscreen and sit on the sand for hours on end, watching the waves crash into the shore. There was a rhythm to it that was almost hypnotic. At low tide, the sea would become peaceful, but it was a deceptive sort of calm. There was a wild current underneath, and if you weren't paying attention, it would pull you under.

  I would sit at the edge of the water and watch the quietness of low tide build to a crescendo. Slowly, gradually, the waves would get bigger. They would crash into shore with heart-pounding intensity. Over and over, they would batter the beach, powerful and relentless.

  My arousal is like the sea.

  All day, ever since I made my phone call to Caleb, my lust has simmered underneath the surface. But now, wave after wave of anticipation pummel me. My knees tremble as I take off my apron. I murmur a greeting to Kellie and a farewell to Farid, and all the while, tides of batter my body.

  Caleb and Nolan have already made their way to the back room. I appreciate their discretion and their thoughtfulness. If I were to head there with them, everyone here would know exactly what was going on. I'm nervous enough about tonight; I don't need the s
tares, the whispers, and the gossip.

  I'm wearing my Club Ménage uniform. Black tank top and a short flared black skirt. It's ordinary. Boring. The club floor is busy, filled with suit-clad men and expensively dressed women. They are peacocks, and I'm a blackbird.

  I don't belong in the private rooms.

  As a bartender, I blend into the background. No one looks at me, no one pays any attention to me, and that's just the way I like it. I thought I was content with the way things were. I thought I was content to look, but not touch. Until last night.

  Everything changed last night.

  My world is shifting around me. Walls are being torn down. Rules are being rewritten. It's a brave new frontier out there, and I stand at the threshold of it, staring at a closed black door, terrified about the prospect of stepping in.

  Before I can raise my hand to knock, the door swings open. Nolan stands there, big and broad and unsmiling. He's taken off his jacket. He was wearing a tie earlier; that's gone as well. He's rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, baring his forearms. He looks impossibly sexy.

  I want to pinch myself. Am I dreaming? Is this real? Is this some sex-soaked fantasy that will end with the cruel blaring of my alarm, right when I’m at the edge of climax?

  His dark eyes rake over me. “Come on in,” he invites. “If you dare.”

  I lift my chin and step into the room. This is it. No turning back. “One would think you were trying to scare me away.”

  He doesn’t smile back. I take a deep, steadying breath and look around. I’ve seen the room before; I’ve worked at Club M for three years and am intimately familiar with the castle. But it’s different from this side. Tonight, I’m not cleaning the room. I’m not restocking sex toys and condoms. Tonight, I’m experiencing the club the way the members do.