Bonds of Denial (Wicked Play #5) Page 4

“Aren’t we all?”

  “Yeah, probably,” she agreed with a nod. “I think I’m getting too old for all of this snow.” He never would’ve guessed she was fourteen years his senior. The effort she made to keep herself healthy and fit paid off.

  “Well, spring’s almost here.” He glanced out the big windows, displaying the bright sunlight in a promise that reflected off the snow that covered the ground and bushes. “Maybe.”

  Her laugh was light and full. “Right. After last year’s late storm, I’m not holding my breath.”

  “Good point.” He wiped his towel over his face and across the back of his neck. “How are things with Jake?” Her boyfriend had moved in late last fall and with the onset of winter, the condo gossip line slowed until summer rolled around and everyone caught back up at the pool or in the enclosed courtyard at the center of their building.

  “Good.” Her green eyes flashed with happiness. “It took some adjusting, but it’s good.”

  “And your kids?” Both of her children were in college. Or maybe one was done now. He couldn’t remember.

  “I think Steph’s goal in life is to turn my hair gray.” She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “And Logan’s settling into his job. He doesn’t enjoy being at the bottom of the food chain though.”

  Carter laughed. “No doubt. We’ve all been there.”

  “Right?” She took a drink from her water bottle. “So how’s your business going?”

  “Good. I might make a change though.” Which was true. The fact that everyone thought he was a self-employed software consultant didn’t even nick his conscience.

  “Really?” Her brows shot up. “To what?”

  He stared at the floor, kicking himself for saying anything. He cleared his throat and plowed on. Maybe saying it to someone would make it more viable in his own mind. “I was thinking of seeing if I could make a go of it with my photography.”

  Cali’s smile grew wide. “That’s a great idea. Your photos are beautiful.”

  He shifted his weight and ducked his head. He was used to people calling his body beautiful, but it tripped all of his insecurities when someone said that about his art. “Thanks.”

  “Let me know if I can do anything to help. Oh.” She snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “Are you looking for jobs, like parties and stuff, or are you going to focus on the artsy stuff?”

  “Honestly, I haven’t thought that far ahead.” It was a pipe dream really.

  “Well, I might have a job for you this summer.”

  “Okay,” he agreed, not believing it would really happen.

  “You’ll have to get a rate sheet out so we can pass it around the complex.” She was charging headlong into the idea at a speed that had Carter’s stomach plummeting. “And I bet Evan has lots of contacts with his event planning business.”

  “Cali,” he interrupted her. “Slow down. It’s only an idea.”

  She squeezed her eyes closed. “Sorry. I guess I got a bit excited for you.”

  There was no way he couldn’t chuckle at her eagerness to help. Maybe it was the mother in her that always had her jumping in whenever someone needed it. Or maybe it was just her good heart that made that happen.

  “Don’t worry about it.” He started to move toward the weight machines. “I appreciate the support.”

  “No problem,” she said with a smile. “It was good seeing you.”

  “You too.”

  With a backward wave, she headed toward the locker room, and he blew out a long breath of relief. There were times when he was positive they were all going to find out about his duplicity. Keeping up the fake job was trying at times, but he refused to give up the normalcy he’d found and the friendships he’d developed with the other condo residents. It was a small slice of ordinary that balanced his life.

  He’d never been ashamed of what he did for a living. But most people weren’t so accepting, even if they were into whips and chains.

  He snorted at the thought as he eyed the open equipment. He’d only recently put together the six degrees of separation that an oddly high number of people from their condo unit had with the BDSM club The Den. Including sweet Cali and her boyfriend Jake.

  The pieces had all fallen together after Tyler had left the escort agency and started working and basically living at the club with one of the owners. Thankfully, the man had never gone into detail with anyone on how they knew each other.

  Carter had been going to The Den with a client once a month for over a year. The whole submission thing wasn’t really his kink, but the man paid well and extra for him to play the part. He was pretty good at it, if he did say so himself.

  He settled on the lats machine, set the weight, gripped the bar over his head and started his routine. The burn increased through his muscles when he started the second set. His goal was always strength and maintenance, not building bulk. It was his experience that the majority of men preferred toned and cut over mass.

  And that had his thoughts circling right back to Rock. He’d been looking forward to seeing his body. It wasn’t often that he got to have sex with a man as fit and handsome as Rock. But then, Rock had been younger than his regular clients. His hourly rate usually narrowed his clients down to middle age and older, wealthy men who could afford to satisfy their desires in private.

  This is stupid. He gave his head a hard shake before moving to the butterfly machine. It was likely he’d never see Rock again. There was zero point in overanalyzing the entire situation. The man had issues that had nothing to do with Carter.

  It didn’t matter how many times he told himself that. It didn’t stop him from wishing he could’ve helped him. Somehow, he felt like he’d let Rock down. The tip he’d tossed on the table before he’d fled had soured Carter’s mouth. He wouldn’t think of why.

  No, he wouldn’t think about it, at all. Period. He’d done everything he could and he’d learned long ago to let the crap go or he’d end up buried beneath all of the shit called life. And he refused to let that happen.

  He’d scrambled too long and hard to ever get buried again.

  Chapter Four

  Rock scanned the bank of screens that lined the wall four high and seven wide. His gaze skated down and back in a pattern that was ingrained at this point. With every room at The Den monitored, he’d become an expert at identifying issues, potential problems and Scenes gone badly.

  Fortunately Seth, Jake and Deklan had established high standards when they’d opened the club, which kept disturbances to a minimum. That, coupled with the member screening and the presence of Dungeon Masters and overseers in the voyeur rooms, helped to make The Den the best and safest BDSM club in the area.

  A club he was now a part owner of. No doubt the first sergeant would be proud of that if he knew. As long as Rock was screwing women, that is. Shit. He rubbed his fingers over his eyes, trying to dispel the thought. Why did he still let his father get to him? Some things were just harder to bury than others.

  That was glaringly obvious after the fuck-awful mess he’d made of his “date” three weeks ago. His fingers brushed over the scar next to his eye and he jerked his hand away as if he’d been burned. He cut off the curse before it could leave his lips. It was done. Over. Best forgotten.

  The door to the security room swung open, bringing the dull thump of the dance music with it. Rock swung his head around and cleared his face of emotion.

  “Hey, Rock,” Deklan said as he closed the door. “Everything good?”

  Rock nodded as he paused his music and pulled his earbuds out.

  “Good.” Deklan slapped a stack of files down on the long table that served as Rock’s desk. “Here’s the latest batch of member applications. Seth has tagged, prioritized and flagged them like usual.”

  Running background checks on potential members was part of his job. “When do you need them?”

  Deklan shrug. “Next week?”

  “Can do.” Rock rolled his chair over to one of his five computers and typed in
his password. Maybe this would keep his mind off his personal problems. “Anything special?”

  “Just the usual.” Deklan stepped around Rock’s chair to scrutinize the security screens. He was dressed for a night on the club floor in his standard Dom gear that was always some combination of black on black. Tonight’s choice was leather pants, T-shirt and heavy combat boots. Deklan never did the studs or harness stuff that so many Doms liked to wear.

  It was Saturday night and the club was busy. A good-sized crowd lingered on the dance floor and bar area in the main room. Most of the private rooms were occupied or reserved and the majority of the Dungeon equipment was in use.

  “Wes will be up in thirty to watch the screens,” Deklan said, his focus still on the action happening on the monitors. “Ryan’s covering the parking lot, Tom’s at the door, Kevin has the third floor and Dungeon and the twins are on the main floor.”

  Rock knew all of that, but he didn’t say anything. All of the men who worked security had served in the army under Deklan at some point and they were all at The Den because Deklan had more than proven his abilities as both a leader and fighter. Loyalty grown in combat and duress was almost unbreakable.

  Deklan turned around and stared down Rock, but he stayed silent. Rock crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. There was no way he was digging for whatever was bugging him.

  Deklan shook his head and stalked toward the door. The music swelled then cut off with the hard slam that followed him out.

  Whatever. Rock glanced at the time, a silent groan ringing in his head. The night was only half-done. He was just turning back to the screens when the door swung open again. What the hell? He worked in a room by himself for a reason.

  “Hey, man.” The low roll of Tyler’s voice was filled with the upbeat energy that had emerged in the months since he’d started working at The Den. But that was most likely due to his happy little threesome with Seth and Allie. “How’s it going?”

  Rock looked back to the screens. “Fine.”

  “Cool.” Tyler plopped himself down on a free space among the computers that lined the counter behind Rock. The ledge groaned under his weight, and Rock shot his friend a glare. He wasn’t worried about it breaking. It was just the point.

  “Chairs were made for sitting.”

  “Yup.” Tyler closed his eyes and slumped back to rest his head on the wall behind him. “And tables were made for eating. Only you don’t eat here, so it doesn’t matter.”

  Little shit. “You need something?”

  Tyler wobbled his head back and forth. “Nope.”

  Rock squeezed his eyes closed and resisted the urge to sigh. Like too many other people in the damn club, Tyler had taken to using this room as a “quiet zone” of sorts. Tyler claimed his visits were doing a service, since he’d taken it upon himself to, as he put it, “see that Rock didn’t get lonely.” What a crock of shit.

  But he never kicked Tyler out. Hell, he never told anyone to leave. Most of them just wandered away when he didn’t respond to their comments. Others he scared away with some choice words edged with sarcasm. Few people seemed to appreciate how much of an introvert he really was.

  And then there were some like Tyler, who were comfortable with Rock’s silence.

  He rolled his chair back to the screens and did another run-through of the action. The actual acts didn’t even register anymore. What he saw were the facial expressions, body language and eyes. He could pick out panic, fear and anger in an instant. That was how he’d first spotted the trouble Tyler had been in all those months ago.

  Tyler had an inner strength Rock wished he could harvest. Anyone who could take that kind of a whipping and then manage to find it within him to love not one but two people had more than earned Rock’s respect.

  “Hey. Carter’s here tonight.”

  Rock snapped his head around, only to follow Tyler’s gaze back to the screen in the upper right corner. Sure enough, there was the man Rock had been trying to forget for three long weeks. Make that over a year. Carter was moving through the bar area behind the member he always came with.

  “Which one’s Carter?” Rock asked. It was a flimsy cover, but he had no legit reason to know who the man was. There were too many members and guests for him to memorize all their faces and names.

  Tyler pointed to the screen. “The tall one with black hair. Screen twelve. Kind of looks like me.”

  Rock twisted around to stare at Tyler. He scanned the man’s face then shook his head. He didn’t see it. There was a vague resemblance based on hair color and the fact that they both had a bit of the smooth baby-face thing going on. But that was it. Where Carter was almost classically handsome with an upper-class carriage, Tyler had more of a streetwise rough edge going on.

  The gruff sound of disagreement rumbled in Rock’s throat. The ability to communicate without actual words had served him well since childhood.

  Tyler shrugged. “Well, some people say we do.”

  Rock rolled back to his computer and quickly brought up Carter’s file. The one he’d created for The Den before Carter was admitted as a guest. Not Rock’s personal one. He pretended to scan the information before turning back to Tyler. “You know him from the agency?”

  “Christ.” Tyler stretched his neck, trying to see Rock’s computer screen, but he’d already set it back to sleep mode. “What the hell kind of information do you collect?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “You’re right,” he agreed, slouching back against the wall. “Forget I asked.”

  “Already did.”

  Tyler scrubbed his palms over his face, a muffled laugh sneaking out. He dropped his hands to his lap. “Freak.”

  “Ass.”

  “Nerd.”

  “Really?” Rock arched a brow. “That’s the best you got?”

  Tyler threw up his hands in defeat. “Shit. I’m too tired to spar with you tonight.”

  “You might get more sleep if there weren’t two other people in your bed.”

  “Ha,” Tyler barked. “Shows how little you know.”

  Rock hid his smile by spinning back to face the screens. Another scan through them confirmed everything was still fine. He zeroed back in on the ones covering the bar area and quickly found Carter. He was sitting in a booth, cozying up to the other man with one arm around the guy’s shoulder and his head tipped in like they were having an intimate discussion.

  Fuck. A burning roll of acid tumbled in his stomach as he watched. He wanted to look away but couldn’t. Why the hell couldn’t he let himself do that? Be like that?

  Open. Honest. Comfortable with who he was.

  “Yeah,” Tyler said from behind him. “Carter’s the one who introduced me to the agency.”

  “What?” He stared at Tyler, his mouth open as his mind stumbled back to his earlier question. He had a lot of information on both men, but he only knew what came across in digital facts and pictures. Personal information like how they met put a different spin on the data.

  “It was a good thing.” Tyler gave a somewhat wistful half smile, but he continued to stare at the screen, not Rock. “He got me off the street corner, pulling a way better income with more reputable clients. I might be dead by now if Carter hadn’t come along when he did.”

  “Did he use you?” The harsh question was bitten out around a jaw gone stiff.

  “No.” Tyler’s denial was quick and firm, but his head snapped back like Rock had hit him. He glared at Rock as he thrust off the table, boots hitting the tile floor with a solid thump. “You know, we may fuck for money, but that doesn’t make us dicks.” Tyler didn’t do that anymore, but he was obviously sensitive about the topic.

  Appropriately chastised, Rock looked away and mumbled, “Sorry.” He didn’t want to acknowledge the relief that went through him at Tyler’s defense of Carter’s character.

  “Whatever.” Tyler waved a dismissive hand and moved toward the door. “I’ve gotta get back to the bar.”

>   Rock swallowed then spoke before the fear got the better of him. “Can I ask you a question?”

  Tyler paused before he turned around. He crossed his arms over his chest, lifted his chin and leveled a flat glare of challenge at Rock. “What?”

  Okay. Just get the words out. “No judgment. But why’d you do it?”

  The frown lines deepened across Tyler’s brow. “Escort?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You know about the debt my dad left me.”

  “Sure.” Rock nodded. “But there are other ways to make money.”

  Tyler scoffed. “I barely had my GED and zero work experience outside of minimum-wage jobs that paid shit. So I used what I had to survive.”

  The answer was what Rock had expected. “And what about that guy?” He pointed to the screen over his shoulder. “Carter.”

  “Don’t know,” Tyler said as he lowered his arms and went to the door. “I never asked. The end result is always the same, so what’s the point?” He exited the room without a backward glance.

  Rock felt like a real shit. He hadn’t meant to poke at Tyler like that. It was solid proof that he should keep his fucking mouth shut. Talking never did him any good.

  His focus shot back to the screens, one in particular, and he stared at another reason that made him feel worse than a shit. He’d really pulled a number on Carter, one the man hadn’t deserved even if he’d been paid for his time. Rock had run hot and cold the entire night, only to freak out when things had gotten too close to what he wanted.

  It didn’t matter that the man had probably forgotten about him the second Rock had bolted from the hotel room. He owed Carter an apology and there was no way to give it.

  Rock swung around to one of the computers and tapped a few keys to call up another camera shot of the bar. He typed in a few more commands that had the camera zooming in on Carter and his date. He made another quick scan of the rest of the screens before looking back to the man who was driving him crazy.

  Carter tossed his head back, laughing at something the other man said. His chest shook with the full roll that Rock remembered from their dinner. The deep timbre echoed in his mind and he swallowed back the longing. Carter looked good. The button-up shirt showed off his toned chest and the navy color made his eyes appear darker. The camera distance couldn’t dull that now that Rock knew what they looked like in person.