Leather & Lace: Trident Security Book 1 (9 page)

She'd tilted her head as she listened to all he said. This was what she'd been looking for when she'd gone to The Covenant for research. There was only so much she could find on the internet, but what she hadn't been able to comprehend was the passion and need of a Dom to take control. Now she understood that part of BDSM but she still had to discover why a submissive needed to give up the control. "No, it's fifteen. You said sixteen when you thought I was lying about the log cabin."

"Well, now it's back to sixteen for arguing with me about the count and the check."

"That's not fair," she huffed, crossing her arms across her chest like a petulant child.

Devon chuckled–she was adorable. When the waiter returned with a small leather folder, he handed over his credit card. "Whoever said life is fair, Pet, wasn't a Dom."

The assassin took a swig of whiskey and watched as Eric Prichard rounded the corner onto County Road #32. The former Navy SEAL was starting the fourth mile of his evening run with four more miles to go. It wouldn't be dark for another forty minutes or so and the target would be turning around at a bank of mailboxes a little further up the road to backtrack toward his home. But if the coast was clear this time, he wasn't going to finish those last four miles. The assassin had been observing the man's habits for the past week, looking for his opportunity to strike.

After locating Prichard, he realized he would have to do the job away from the man's residence. The former SEAL and his wife had four children and even though the assassin killed people for a profit without a second thought, he drew the line at murdering children. It was the only time his conscience wouldn't let him kill unless necessary, but oddly enough, the moment a kid turned eighteen they were considered expendable. Had his earlier target's eighteen year old daughter been home when he broke into their house and shot her parents six months ago, she would have been a third body the police found. A slumber party saved her from certain death.

It'd been three months since his last kill for the man paying him because the bastard didn't want to get his own hands dirty. The first kill on the list of seven men occurred six months ago. His temporary employer wanted them spaced out so no one would notice a pattern. Seven dead former Navy SEALs from the same team would raise a lot of questions, but by that time there would be no one left who could figure out the how's and why's. After he took out Prichard, the assassin would head to Tampa to track the last four names on his execution list–Ian Sawyer, his brother Devon Sawyer, Brody Evans and Jake Donovan. He would have to find a way to take them out together while still making it look like an accident since, according to the files he had been given, they worked and hung out together along with two other former SEALs. He might be able to take out one or two before they realized they were targeted and went underground, making it much harder to kill the rest of them.

Stalking men who had been trained to do the stalking themselves, was a delicate job. Over a week ago he found a used car dealership two towns over from bum-fuck Iowa where his target lived. The business lacked decent security so he picked the lock to the office in under a minute and helped himself to the keys to their available vehicles, some of which were kept in an overflow lot a few blocks away. Using a different car and different disguise each day, he was able to keep his target from spotting him, but there had been a few moments when the man seemed to sense he was being watched, so the assassin had to be smarter than his prey.

Finishing a count to three hundred the killer-for-hire put the car in gear, took one last sip from his flask and pulled out from behind an abandoned laundromat. By now his target would be running back toward town on a straightaway while facing oncoming traffic. Although the man ran along the narrow shoulder, he didn't flinch when cars drove past. He passed Prichard twice this week on his run, but there had been cars with witnesses on the road.

Taking the turn Prichard had disappeared around minutes before, the assassin straightened the steering wheel and accelerated to the posted fifty miles per hour speed limit. His target was where he expected the man to be, unknowingly running at a decent clip toward his tragic death.

One hundred yards. He could see the target's black shirt, military green sweatpants and white sneakers.

Fifty yards. He could read the yellow lettering spelling out 'U.S. Navy' on the man's chest.

Twenty yards. The target looked at his watch and upped his pace.

Ten yards. The dead man running made eye contact with him a second before the assassin swerved.

A half hour later, he dropped off the used and now damaged car, wiped it clean of prints and retrieved his own vehicle. He typed off a one word text on his burner cell
–
Don
e
–then pulled out onto the road leading to the interstate where he would dismantle the phone and throw a part out the window every few miles.

Once they were on their way to The Covenant, Kristen became nervous again. She had been twisting her hands together until Devon reached over and took hold of her left hand, intertwined their fingers then rested them on her thigh. His thumb was now brushing her thigh, below her hemline, back and forth. With those soft, reassuring caresses, she tried to settle into the comfortable silence and let her mind wander.

She hadn't thought she would be interested in BDSM but after her interaction with Devon earlier at the club, she wasn't sure now. She'd been so turned on, she had ended up masturbating in the shower before Kayla and Will got there. And instead of Master Xavier urging her on, this time it had been Master Devon.

"I meant to ask you earlier but we got a little sidetracked. Did you bring your limit list with you?"

Kristen turned her head to examine his profile as he drove. "Yes, it's folded in my purse. I also reviewed the protocols."

He nodded and glanced over at her before returning his attention to the road. "Good. I'll look over your list when we get to the club. Do you have any questions about the protocols?"

She thought back to the papers she read. Most of the rules were pretty straight forward but she still wanted to clarify a few of them. "Yes, I do. Some rules were listed under the heading "High Protocols" while others weren't. How do I know when I'm supposed to follow the "High Protocol" rules?"

He'd been happy when she agreed to leave her car near the restaurant and ride to the club with him. He left the convertible top closed, not wanting the wind to ruin her styled hair. He wanted to save the pleasure for later when he got a chance to run his fingers through those soft brown curls. "Most of the members follow the relaxed protocols unless we are having an event which would require the more rigid ones, and everyone is notified of those in advance. There are a few Doms who insist their subs follow the stricter rules but if one of them approaches you, I'll let you know. If it does happen, remember to keep your head bowed, do not make eye contact with the Dom or their sub, if they have one, and ask my permission to speak before saying anything to them. Never be rude to a Dom in any situation. You'll be next to me most of the time but if for some reason I'm not there, and a Dom is bothering you, immediately look for a Dungeon Master who wear gold vests or a security officer who wear red button-down shirts with a black bowtie and let them know. Just because you're a submissive does not give a Dom or another submissive permission to harass you for any reason. Most of our members are not a problem, but like every large group it has its jackasses and bitches."

"What's the difference between the Dungeon Masters and the security officers?"

His squeezed her hand before releasing it, needing both hands to navigate the sharp turn from the highway ramp to the road leading to the club. He missed the warmth and reclaimed her hand as soon as he was able. "The Dungeon Masters are experienced Doms who keep an eye on the scenes going on throughout the club. I think we have a total of thirty-two of them. They ensure all play at the club is safe and keep the subs from getting injured in case a Dom overlooks something such as a restraint too tight or a sub not using their safe word when they should. The security officers keep an eye on everything else and are the bouncers of the club."

She thought about what he said and there was one thing which confused her. "Why would a submissive not use their safe-word when it's obvious to a monitor they should?"

Devon sighed as he stopped two cars back from the guard shack at the entrance to the club parking lot. The lead car must be either a newer member or guest who the guard didn't recognize because he was checking the driver's ID with a handheld computer. It was another one of Brody's toys the club used on a regular basis. "Sometimes what a sub thinks they want isn't what they need and not saying their safe-word can be a destructive behavior. How can I explain it?" He paused. "Do you know what 'cutting' is?"

She'd heard of cutting before. "Isn't it when a person, sometimes teenagers, cut their arms with razors blades?"

The line of cars was now moving again and the guard waved at Devon as he passed. "People who cut themselves in order to feel whatever it is they are looking to feel, don't cut deep enough to bleed out but it's still dangerous. They feel compelled to cut themselves for whatever reason causing damage to their bodies, and they usually can't stop without psychological help. It's what a sub who doesn't use their safe-word when they should is doing–damaging themselves in order to feel whatever it is they are trying to feel. A good Dom needs to know how to find the fine line between what a sub needs to make them feel good and what is going too far and damaging the sub's psyche and body. If a DM thinks a sub is pushing his- or herself too far to the point of severe injury via a Dom, the sub is referred to one of our contracted psychologists and can't play again unless they get an okay from the doctor. It doesn't happen often but we're serious about our submissives' safety here–physically, psychologically and emotionally."

He'd parked his car a few minutes earlier and sat there finishing his explanation before opening his car door. When she reached for the latch to open her own door, he stopped her. "Do not even think of opening your door. Stay there until I come around or I'll add to your spanking count."

She couldn't help herself as she laughed out loud at his firm tone. "Is this one of those things that brings you pleasure, Master Devon?"

God, how he loved how she combined his title with his name. He'd heard it from the mouths of hundreds of subs over the years but never had a woman gotten him hard by saying those two words–until now. "Yes, my little subbie, it is. Now stay there."

He adjusted himself as he walked around the back of his car and then opened her door. Putting his hand out to help her up from the low seat, he couldn't tear his eyes away as the hemline of her dress crept further up her legs when she exited the car. He was almost tempted to push it up a little further so he could see if she was bare or not between her legs. Bare was his personal preference. "Didn't your ex ever open your door for you?"

"Now that you mention it, no he didn't."

"Well, there's another reason to hate the selfish prick-bastard."

Kristen laughed at him again as she tugged her skirt back down, which wouldn't go any further than the middle of her thighs. "You don't know him, how can you say you hate him?"

Reaching into his pocket he retrieved the item he had placed there earlier. "Easily, Pet. Any man who would cheat on, disrespect and leave a beautiful woman like you deserves to be despised and degraded by the rest of his gender." He held up his hand and let the object dangle from it so she could see it. "This is a training collar, Pet. You'll wear it while you're here at the club with me. It'll let the other Doms know you're spoken for and they're not allowed to try and negotiate with you or demand you follow a certain protocol without my permission. I may order you to kneel but another Dom would have to get my approval for them to tell you to do the same, except in extreme cases. Some Doms like to tease the subs and it's not considered rude here unless it's insulting, and I will not allow anyone to insult you. If I have to leave you for some reason, I'll ask a DM or security to keep an eye on you until I return. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir." She nodded and turned around, lifting her hair so he could fasten the collar around her neck. It was a simple black leather band and he regretted not having a nicer one to give her. He never had a sub wear one of his collars for more than a weekend but this time he found himself not wanting to think about un-collaring her when they were done playing tonight.

When she turned back around, fingering the leather band, he found his hands reaching up to cup her face. Looking into her hazel eyes, he lowered his mouth to hers, a scant inch at a time, waiting for her to stop him, to let him know she didn't want this. But she didn't stop him and he sent up a silent thanks to whomever or whatever had brought this woman to him at this moment. The second his mouth touched hers, her eyes fluttered shut. The kiss was light, a soft brushing of his lips against hers, until she sighed and her lips parted granting him entry. He deepened the kiss, darting his tongue into her mouth to tangle with hers, dying for a taste of her. He savored the sweetness of her wine, the tartness of the lemon from her dinner and something delicious and unique to Kristen. And for tonight she belonged to him, he just didn't know how he would be able to let her go when they were done playing.
Mine
.

When her hands began to move up his arms toward his neck, he grabbed her wrists and put a reluctant end to the kiss. Her eyes fluttered as if she was waking from a long slumber and he smiled. "Sorry, Pet, but if I let you touch me, I'm going to go off like a rocket." He pressed his hips to hers in order to make his point. He gave her another quick kiss before releasing her wrists, turning her to his side and tucking her one hand under his arm. Thankfully it was normal to see men walking around the club with hard-ons because his wasn't going down anytime soon.

Moments later they were standing in the lobby at the front desk which was being attended by a slight but toned man who Kristen guessed was about her age. He was shirtless, but wore a pair of black dress pants and a red bow tie with gold trim. The man smiled and nodded at her before speaking to Devon. "Good evening, Master Devon, how are you tonight?"

"I'm good, Matthew. And you?"

"Very good, Sir, since I'm scheduled to scene with Mistress China later."

Devon winced knowing that meant the sub's cock and balls were going to be tortured before the night was over. It wasn't something Devon could imagine subjecting his man parts to, but the younger sub enjoyed it.

"Matthew, this is Ms. Kristen, my guest this evening. Kristen, Matthew is one of the clubs long-time employees and he's also a submissive. If you ever have any questions, Matthew can answer them from a sub's point of view."

When she nodded, he took her arm and extending it outward over the desk so Matthew could place a yellow band around her wrist. When he was done, the sub patted her hand. "It's nice to meet you Kristen. This indicates you're a guest and not allowed to participate in any play. And Master Devon is right, if you have any questions, I'm an expert on club protocol. By the way, love your dress."

Kristen smiled at his friendly manner. "Thank you and it's nice to meet you, too."

Devon took her hand and tucked it under his arm again before leading her over to a large man dressed in black slacks and a red button-down shirt standing next to the wooden doors leading into the club. "Kristen, this is Tiny, the head of security. Tiny, this is Kristen.”

She tilted her head up...and up...and up. Good Lord, the man was tall...and broad. He was about six foot eight and two hundred seventy-five pounds of solid muscle. His neck was too thick to close the top button of his shirt so he was without a bowtie. Bald with a goatee, he reminded her of a wrestler from the eighties who became an actor, Mr. G or something like that. The only thing he was missing was the gold chains. "Tiny?"

The man laughed and gave her a wink. "Yes ma'am. My real name is Travis but I've gone by Tiny since I was born weighing thirteen pounds. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Before she could reply, Devon spoke again. "Tiny, would you be so kind as to keep an eye on my sub for a few minutes while I run and change? I'm afraid she'll cause a riot inside if I leave her unattended."

"Absolutely, Master Devon. I don't doubt she'd cause trouble in there. The Doms will be falling all over themselves the second they spot this cute little thing." Tiny took a step to the left and revealed a stool she hadn't known was behind him. "Have a seat up here Ms. Kristen and I'll keep the big, bad Doms from killing each other trying to get at you."

She doubted that would happen but still smiled at his compliment. "Thank you, Master Tiny."

"Uh-uh, Ms. Kristen. It's just Tiny since I'm not a Dom nor do I participate in the lifestyle. I only work here so I can check out pretty ladies such as yourself and pound on the occasional idiot who gets out of hand."

She laughed and relaxed again. "I get the feeling you're nothing but a big teddy bear."

"Hey, I like it. Tiny the teddy bear."

Devon helped her up on the stool before giving her a fast kiss on the lips. "Take out your list and hand me your purse. You won't need it inside so I'll put in my locker for safe keeping." She did as he requested and handed him both. "I'll be right back, Pet. Stay here with Tiny and you'll be fine."

"Yes, Sir."

He grinned then disappeared through the big wooden doors leading into the club. The pounding music increased in volume before becoming a dull beat when the door closed again. She felt a little self-conscious sitting on the stool and turned toward the big man next to her after tugging at her dress to keep from flashing him. "So how long have you worked here?"

He opened the door to allow a couple to walk in, and waited until the music died down before answering her. "Ever since the club opened. Have you met Master Jake yet?"

Jake was the man who met Devon at the pub the day before while they were making their dinner plans. "Yes, I think so, but only briefly and I didn't know he was a Dom then."

Tiny leaned against the wall, crossing his arm over his massive chest and Kristen couldn't help but wonder what size shirt the man wore. "Jake and I go way back to our high school football days. After I got injured in the pros, I ended up down here a few years ago for a visit. I ran into Jake and he recommended me to Ian and Devon. When they offered me a job, I moved as fast as I could from L.A. I still do occasional bodyguard work for them when needed, but mostly I'm in charge of the club's security.