Author: Olivia Cunning

He smiled. “This is usually the part where the woman calls me a sick bastard, grabs her clothes, and runs out of the room naked without a backwards glance.”

“I’m not running.”

His smile widened, causing her heart to stutter stupidly in her chest. “I noticed. Will you whip me again? I’ll take it better now that I’m not so sexually frustrated.”

She grinned. “I’d be happy to. Will you fuck me again when you’ve had enough pain?”

He kissed her and pulled out. “If I’m still capable of moving.”

He stripped the condom from his cock, glanced around the room, and got out of bed to dispose of it in the small trash can near her desk. She dragged herself from the bed, not ready to shake the afterglow still coursing through her body.

She sighed and reached for her panties.

“You’re getting dressed?” he asked.

“Don’t you want me to whip you again?”

“Yeah, I want you to whip me—Aggie, not Mistress V. I want you naked. I want the body I’m learning to please exposed while you hurt me.”

“I can’t, Jace. I’m not capable of hurting you as myself. I have to be in the domme role.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her and ran his hand down the scratches on his chest. “Oh really?”

She ducked her head. She had hurt him. And something about it excited her. “This is usually the part where the man calls me a crazy bitch, grabs his clothes, and runs out of the room naked without a backwards glance.”

“I’m not running.” He held a hand out, and she crossed the room to take it.

He led her through her home, back into the foyer, and into the soundproof room. A cell phone was beeping in Jace’s pile of clothes. He had a voice mail. His brow furrowed. “Who could that be? No one ever calls me.”

He retrieved his phone from his leather jacket and listened to his message. She watched his expression change from confusion to horror. He reached for his clothes and started to dress.

“Sorry, but I have to go.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Trey’s in the hospital.”

“Trey?”

“Sinners’ rhythm guitarist.”

“Is it something serious?”

He stomped his foot into one boot. “Yeah, sounds like it. Head injury. Can I see you again?”

She crossed her arms over her naked breasts. “If you have an appointment.”

“Tomorrow night? Same time?”

“I have another client scheduled for ten tomorrow.”

His entire body jerked, the way it should have responded when she whipped him. “Oh,” he murmured breathlessly.

“How about five in the evening?”

His smile rivaled the sun in its brilliance. “Even better.”

She tried to hide a grin, but failed. “I’ll pencil you in.”

Chapter 5

If the waiting didn’t kill Jace, the dark cloud of doom surrounding Dare Mills just might. The long hair and leather identified him as the infamous rock star he was, but the worry twisting his face with concern was a staunch reminder that he was only human and an utter wreck over his little brother’s hospitalization. It was almost five a.m. Trey had been out of a successful surgery for a few hours now, but he was still sleeping off the anesthesia.

“Why won’t they let us in to see him?” Dare asked for the twentieth time. “I just want to see him.”

“He needs his rest,” Eric said. “That’s all.” He produced a lion-sized yawn and scrubbed his face with both hands.

“It’s not like I’m going to yank him out of the hospital bed and take him for a cruise down the Vegas strip. I just want to see him. To know he’s still fucking breathing.”

Jace patted the back of Dare’s hand. He understood all too well what Dare was feeling. Not that he could express it. Every time he opened his mouth to tell Dare how it had felt to sit in a hospital waiting room while a loved one’s life was in the hands of strangers, the white walls seemed to close in on him, and a paralyzing anguish stole his breath. None of his experiences with hospital waiting rooms had ended well. Dare didn’t need to hear that, and Jace didn’t want to revisit it, so he just patted the back of Dare’s hand every so often, hoping that he somehow realized that Jace was there to support him. He owed Dare his success—his entire livelihood.

None of the guys knew how Dare had helped him become a part of Sinners. It had been Dare who had arranged Jace’s audition with the band. Dare who had talked Trey into having the Sinners’ original bassist, Jon, fired for drug abuse. Dare who had invented that bullshit story about Jace being considered as a replacement for Logan—Exodus End’s bassist. Logan had never considered quitting Exodus End. It had been a setup. Dare claimed to have intervened because it was best for his little brother’s band. The dude had a strong protective instinct when it came to Trey. Jace wondered if Trey realized how much his older brother cared about him, and how it would feel to have someone love you that much.

“I’m about to crash,” Eric said. “When is Brian supposed to get here and give us a break?”

“In a few hours,” Jace said.

“You can go, Eric,” Dare said. “You’ve done enough for him.”

Eric smiled and then jumped to his feet. “I’m not pussing out now. Who needs coffee?”

“Yeah,” Dare said absently.

“I’ll take a cup,” Jace said. He expected Eric to twist his words into a barb, but he headed out of the room to find another dose of caffeine. Jace decided Eric must be completely exhausted if he’d given up on wisecracks.

“I didn’t talk to him about Brian,” Dare said.

Jace looked at him in question. “What about Brian?”

“I should have talked to him. I should have checked on him to make sure he was okay.”

Another thing Jace completely understood. A case of the “should haves.” I should have ridden the bus to school that day. I should have pushed Kara away. I should have never climbed out that window. I should have never been born.

“I should have talked him into going to the doctor sooner,” Dare said.

“We tried to talk him into going to the doctor, Dare,” Jace said.

“But he listens to me.” Dare stroked his eyebrow with his middle finger. “Sometimes.”

“We should have insisted. We knew he was hurt,” Jace said.

More should haves.

Eric returned with three Styrofoam cups between his long fingers. “What are you two grumbling about?” He handed a cup to Dare and then one to Jace, before taking a sip from his own.

“We should have gotten Trey help sooner,” Dare said.

“Well, we didn’t. Now we have to deal with the consequences. No sense in beating yourself up over things you can’t change. You have to make the best of the current situation,” Eric said.

“The current situation blows,” Dare said.

Jace patted Dare’s hand again. He understood. He still beat himself up over things he couldn’t change years after they occurred. He couldn’t imagine ever letting that guilt go.

Chapter 6

Obnoxious pounding on Aggie’s front door woke her before noon. She grabbed a pillow and buried her head beneath it. It muffled the persistent knocking, but not enough to let her go back to sleep. When the pounding intensified, she huffed loudly, kicked her covers aside, slipped a robe over her naked body, and stormed to the front door. Her mother stood on the threshold, glancing over her shoulder nervously.

“What are you doing here?” Aggie asked.

Mom pushed her way over the threshold, slammed the door behind her, and locked it. “I’m staying here for a few days. You got coffee?” She eyed the open door of the soundproof room where Aggie worked over her clients. It had stood empty since Jace had left the night before.

Aggie took Mom’s elbow and led her through the connecting foyer into the living room. She continued through the family room to the kitchen, which was separated from the large, open room by a breakfast bar. “Why do you need to stay here? What did you do now?”

“Some men are looking for me. No big deal—just better if they don’t find me. Mind if I smoke?”

Mom reached into her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She thumped one out of the pack and put it between her bright pink lips.

“Actually, I do mind. Go smoke outside. I’ll put on coffee.”

Mom glanced over her shoulder toward the closed front door. “I need to quit anyway.” She put the cigarette back in the pack and went to close the reinforced door that separated the living room from the foyer. Aggie usually left it open, unless she was expecting a client, but if it made her paranoid mother feel better, she’d keep it closed for added security.

Mom followed Aggie to the kitchen and perched herself on a stool at the breakfast bar. Yawning, Aggie started a pot of coffee brewing and leaned against the counter across from her mother.

“What’s with you?” Mom asked. “You get laid or something?”

“Huh?” How on earth would her mother know that?

“You’re walking all bowlegged.”

“Shut up,” Aggie said. “I am not.”

“If you say so.” Mom gave her an appraising look, reached into her purse, and retrieved her pack of cigarettes again. “Men. Jackasses. All of them.”

Normally, Aggie would agree, but she’d found one last night she kind of liked. One who apparently made her walk bowlegged. “They’re not all bad.”

Mom thumped another cigarette out of the pack, put it between her lips, and lit it. “Shit, you found a man, didn’t you?”

Aggie shrugged. “Not really.”

Mom took a deep drag off her cigarette, smoke curling around her head as it floated to the ceiling. Aggie really wished she wouldn’t smoke in her house, but with this woman there were so many battles, Aggie had to pick the ones she was willing to fight.

“Not really?” Mom lifted her penciled eyebrows at her. “What’s his name? Is he nice?”

“There’s no guy, Mom.” Aggie said, shaking her head. She was unwilling to tell her mother anything about Jace. Not even his name. She wouldn’t describe how attractive she found him or how his rare laugh warmed her heart. And would especially never mention how he fulfilled her sexually in a way no other man ever had. She knew if she confided even the tiniest detail, her mother would point out everything negative, until Aggie lost sight of how wonderful he was. Mom always did that.

“So what’s going on with you?” Aggie asked. Mom never showed up unless she needed something. Even when Aggie had been a kid, her mother had been more absent from her life than present. The woman was always chasing one unlikely dream or another. Having a kid had never been a dream—more of a burden. She was far more likely to run from her parenting obligations than embrace them. Aggie had come to terms with that years ago.

The coffee pot gurgled as it spewed the last of the brew into the carafe. The heady aroma of strong coffee perfused the cozy kitchen. Aggie turned to fill two mugs. She shoveled several spoonfuls of sugar into her mother’s cup, taking her own black.

Her mother accepted the mug between her bony hands and took a sip. “I had this great idea to finally get you out of that strip club.”

Aggie rolled her eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you? I like working there. I don’t dance because I have to. I dance because I want to.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Agatha.” She shook her head dismissively. “I bought a book on the Internet.”

“A book? What kind of book?”

“On how to win at slots. Guaranteed.”

“You didn’t.”