“Ahh...disobeyed instructions, did you?” Heather grinned at the green eyes that were up and instantly back down.
“I…it’s supposed to be black. My dress,” she sighed, dark red curls shaking slightly. “But he made me so very angry. We had dinner on Tuesday and he said he’d see me the next day only he didn’t. And all week, nothing. Not a word. Fine, alright. I can deal with that. But then…then this morning the paper…I was stupid to think…I was just stupid.”
“The paper,” Heather lifted the tonic water with a lime floating inside and sipped, alert eyes taking in the people watching the redhead like swarming predatory hawks. “I saw the photo. It’s not like Gabriel to dabble outside once he’s made a choice,” she met the hesitantly raised gaze. “Since we’re chatting like girlfriends, it’s alright to look at me, Bailey. If Gabriel’s your master,” she raised one hand, her finger tracing the thin strip of leather around the very pale throat. “And I’m guessing this is his,” she saw the instant answer in the deep green eyes. “He’s a lenient master, usually. People who are honest with themselves, and uncover either their dominant or submissive side, enjoy the play. Some to the more extreme, others simply because it’s a huge part of their nature.” She watched the sub closely. “So he didn’t call you?”
“No. Then out of nowhere, he sent me orders and I was furious,” Bailey whispered slowly. “I picked this dress instead of a black one and I intend to tell him I’m not taking…I can’t...”
“You intended to give him the boot,” Heather supplied with a chuckle, the crop she held in her hand tapping the collar again. “But this says differently, Bailey.”
“I know,” she propped her elbows on the edge of the bar and let her forehead fall into her palms. “I know.”
“Being submissive doesn’t make you weak, Bailey. Neither does it make you weak when you discover that you care about someone,” she met the wide gaze with a little shrug. “I’m good at reading people. And I know Gabe. He would never have given you that collar if there wasn’t more involved than just occasional play dates. And to be honest, from things I’ve heard, he hasn’t involved himself in more than the play portion for a year or more.”
“Women at the club were falling all over him.”
“It’s his choice to politely decline, Bailey. You had that option,” she saw the answer in the green eyes. “Negligent, perhaps. Why don’t you go into the more public bar and relax?” Heather stood up and gestured to another set of doors. “It’s less crowded and more mainstream. When Gabe shows up, I’ll tell him where you are and you’ll get hit on there, don’t doubt that, but it won’t be quite so…extreme.”
“I think something stronger than water might be a good idea,” her nose twitched at the scents of food as they moved through the wide, short corridor and into a more lighted, open area. “I think I missed dinner again.”
“Chuck, keep an eye on my redhead here, would you?” Heather spoke to the bartender after guiding Bailey to a quiet corner. “She belongs to Garrett and I don’t want to be on his bad side.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Chuck went to Bailey with a large glass of water. “What’ll you have?”
Heather Malcolm strode leisurely through her club. Eyes well trained looked from one scene to another. Approval, admiration and interest at the imagination some people possessed always amazed her. Then she heard the familiar voice.
“I don’t care where she is, find her,” growled Gabriel Garrett. “Now.”
“Stop terrorizing my staff,” Heather came around from the side, her arm linked with his. “You haven’t been here in ages. And I appreciate that,” she taunted with a low laugh at the scowl on his face. Oh, the little redhead had him all bound up in knots without a single strand of rope in sight.
Gabriel glared at her. In those damn heels she was almost as tall as him and still built like a sailor’s finest wet dream.
“No one to torment tonight?” He’d bit back the instant demand about Bailey, his gaze sweeping what he could see in frustration.
“I found a cute little redhead, but she’s not into girls,” Heather offered a crooked grin. “I put her some place safe for you. Is she important?”
“Where is she, Heather?” Came the cold demand. He wasn’t interested in games. He wanted nothing more than to just get Bailey out of here and someplace he can collect his control again.
“She saw the photo spread in the paper Friday morning,” she took a guess and by the look on his face, she was correct. He didn’t have a clue he had even been in the papers. “Now, being the friends that we are…I know you don’t play with more than one woman in your bed at a time. I know you’re the loyal type. Your little red bird is hurt. And defiant.”
“You know who the woman is?” He asked flatly.
“Belinda’s little sister,” Heather said softly. “What did she want?”
“Revenge. Money.” He stared around the club, his hands shoved into the pockets of his long leather coat. “With those two it’s always a convoluted story to get to the truth of what they’re really after.”
“She hated you for putting her into rehab.”
“It’s what Belinda wanted,” he answered tonelessly. “We parted on decent terms. No matter what anyone believes.”
“I know that. I was there, remember?”
“Stephanie doesn’t believe it and she claims she’s here to see why I haven’t called her sister. Hell, I haven’t spoken to or wanted to speak to her since the divorce! What the hell would I want to have anything to do with her now?” Gabriel said flatly, dark eyes narrowing. “Where the hell is she, Heather?”
“Someplace safe.” Heather was probably one of the few that didn’t cower from the glaring and growling, her arm linking with his. “I did, however, ask if she were a switch hitter,” she sighed in dramatic dismay. “But she only has eyes for you.”
Gabriel closed his eyes for a long minute. “Where, Heather?”
“The normal bar,” she said with a laugh, guiding him along the designated path to the connecting corridor. “Why did you send her here?”
“I didn’t. Someone is playing some sick game,” he pushed the words between his lips. “Have your staff keep an eye out for a redhead in a black dress. The last one that looked like Bailey was murdered outside my club.”
Heather stopped and gripped his forearm tightly, nails biting through his coat.
“She didn’t wear black, Gabriel. She wore red.”
“She...” Something in him suddenly broke with relief.
“She was angry and defiant.” They entered the back of the bar, the focus of her generally attentive staff making her scowl. Then she followed not only their gaze, but the gaze of practically every male patron in the bar. And a few standing outside peering through the windows. “Oh, hell,” she laughed brightly and looked up.
The bartender suddenly appeared very busy and quite distracted.
Chapter Fifteen
“What the fuck?” Gabriel followed their gaze to the high, arched ceiling and the long length of pure white silk that looped from above. It looked to be about three feet wide and outlined in the center and spinning very slowly, was Bailey O’Conner.
Long, shimmering legs stretched out straight from one side, red heels on the feet clasped at the ankles. Slender arms were flung wide on the other side of the silk that hugged her like a skin, red head back and her eyes closed.
Gabriel felt his cock harden as his eyes followed the outline of her body in the silk, the behind he’d pressed against in his office too fresh in his memory. The soft, delightfully curved picture she presented made him growl softly and possessively.
“Lower that damn thing,” he said without looking at anyone. He took a step closer as the silk ribbon was slowly lowered. His hands caught her legs when she was close enough.
“Hey! I don’t want down yet!” Bailey opened her eyes and knew it was too soon since her head was still spinning slowly in circles. It had been like flying. Softly riding the air currents like she’d seen the gulls do all the time.
“The hell you don’t,” Gabriel watched her body freeze, her head turned slowly until their eyes met with only the ribbon between them.
“Oh, shit.”
“Delicately put, pet.” He moved closer until his hands were on her waist. “Sit up slowly and hold onto my arms. You might be a little dizzy.”
Bailey wanted to tell him to go fly a kite. She wanted to tell him she was not interested in him, but her hands immediately slipped inside the silk and went to the leather covered arms, holding on and letting him lift her to the floor.
Damn him for being right. Her body swayed and her legs wobbled, her eyes closing until things seemed to settle a little better.
“Bailey?”
He’d wrapped one arm completely around her middle, his other palm up and taking a firm hold of her chin. He watched one eye open very slowly.
She blinked and swallowed hard with a little nod. At least he sounded a little concerned, she admitted grudgingly.
“You can let me go. I’m okay.” She didn’t like the fact that she was straddling his thigh. She did not like that her skirt was short enough that her panties rested against his muscled thigh and he knew she was already damp. She put both palms against his shoulders but nothing moved.
“What the hell were you doing up there?” Gabriel pushed the words through clenched teeth. This wasn’t his place. This wasn’t even a bar where they’d understand when he tossed her over a bar stool and paddled her until he felt better. His arm tightened when she squirmed.
“Flying,” she answered instantly, trying to lower her face and finally giving up. “It was like being in gymnastics again,” she continued when he kept glaring at her. “Or like the gulls over the ocean.”
He knew it was the winsome little smile she gave him that shattered his common sense. He didn’t have relationships for a reason, he repeated to himself for the hundredth time since meeting her. He was always busy. Some part of him constantly found other things more entertaining than the woman he was with.
Until he met her.
His palm slowly loosened, vaguely aware of the attention they had drawn. He stepped back and took her wrist. He’d turned to lead her through the corridor when a deep voice broke into his thoughts.
“Hey. The little lady didn’t want to go,” a man about forty stepped forward, his hand out and on Bailey’s other wrist. “Let her stay. We liked the show she was putting on…great legs, honey.”
“Thank you very much,” Bailey said with a beaming smile.
“Tough. It’s over,” Gabriel looked down at the beefy hand. “Let her go or risk losing the hand. She’s mine.”
“Fuck that,” he gave a tug, ignoring the little yelp from the wishbone in the center of the two large men. “Tell him you want to stay.”
Bailey shook her head, tried pulling her hand free and winced.
“Let me go, please. I’m going now,” she said quietly, soothingly.
“You heard her,” Gabriel had turned back to face the man who abruptly realized how menacing the younger man looked.
He opened his palm and stepped back, two hands in the air before he lost interest and went back to his friends.
“What the hell did you think you were doing?”
Bailey felt the wall behind her when they entered the corridor, his larger frame turning to block her movement forward once they were clear of the bar. Pulsing, thick music filtered along the wide hall and she tried to think.
“I…let me go,” she shook her head. “I can’t…”
“Why did you come up here? This isn’t a game, Bailey.” He took both her hands in his and stretched them above her head, forcing her face up until she had to meet his stare.
“You told me to come here! I did what you told me!” She yelled breathlessly.
“Really?” His gaze went to the low front on the red dress. “I told you to wear this dress?” He chuckled at the defiance in her eyes. He shifted both her hands to one of his. His palm slid down the fabric covered arm and across her cheek, one finger out to tug on the collar she wore. “And this? Did I tell you to wear this, too?”
“I didn’t want to make you too angry,” she whispered. “I was angry.”
“Too angry to think clearly?”
She didn’t like the quiet coldness that had entered his tone. Something was off.
“What happened the last time you didn’t discuss something with me, Bailey?” He saw the memory flare deep in her eyes, shifting the color a little brighter; the flash of hunger a little sharper.
“There’s nothing to discuss.”
“The hell there isn’t. Let’s go. You shouldn’t be here.”
“You sent me here!” She yelled again, struggling against the grip of his palm on her wrists. One foot kicked out and connected with a shin. She watched the pain and anger register along with a big dose of shock, all at the same time she realized what she’d done.
Oh, crap! She kicked him! She actually kicked him!
Oh, god, maybe she could claim insanity. Her chest rose and fell rapidly when his body stilled.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Gabriel leaned in, his mouth next to her ear. “I did not send you here.”
Her body went still.
He looked up to see the confusion and a little fear finally enter her eyes. Her head bobbed slowly.
“No, Bailey. I did not send you here.” Damn! He wasn’t handling this right. He was only managing to terrify her. “I went to your apartment and let myself in,” her eyes widened a little more. “I checked your phone, that’s how I knew where you were.”