Deliverance (NYC Doms Book 1) Read online

  Tears prick the back of my eyes.

  This is why I don’t go out.

  This is why I only hire babysitters when my friends practically drag me, kicking and screaming.

  No one takes care of Chad the way I do. No one gets him. The big, bossy bear of a man stands in the doorway to his office, his head tilting toward me to keep an eye on me, but I sit up quickly when I see uniformed officers in the hall. My stomach clenches, but I breathe deep and focus on staying calm.

  A tall, burly man dressed in plain clothes, but obviously a detective or some kind of police officer, approaches Tobias. He has light brown hair and deep brown eyes. He speaks in a husky, controlled voice. “We need to question every dungeon monitor and member of your staff,” he says. “Seth gave the signal. You’ve locked the facility down?”

  Tobias nods and my heart kicks up a beat.

  Dungeon monitor? Lockdown?

  Tobias’ gaze pivots around to lock eyes with mine, probably afraid I’m going to lose my shit again. I stare him back, daring him to accuse me of being a wimp. Swinging my legs over the side of the couch, I’m about to approach them when I remember what brought me here. There is a police officer standing in front of him. One sentence is all it would take for him to report me. What would happen then? If I get in trouble with the law… if Chad loses his funding… too much is at stake.

  My eyes meet his, and I silently plead.

  He doesn’t look away when he speaks to the police officer. “Zack, I have company here tonight. Sorry, should’ve told you.”

  Zack just comes in and extends his hand. “Nice to meet you…?” His voice trails off, inviting me to give him my name.

  “Diana McAdams,” I say, my mouth dry. “Nice to meet you, too.”

  Tobias addresses Zack. “Brax is on at the door, Travis tending bar. I’ll have to look to see who’s on the floor.”

  Zack pulls a notebook out of his back pocket and starts writing things down.

  “You haven’t seen Axle?”

  “No, but I—oh for Christ’s sake, Zack. Axle doesn’t like to kill spiders, never mind hurt a—” his gaze swings around to me again, and he stops. “It couldn’t be him.”

  Zack frowns. “It’s never who you think it is.”

  Tobias swears, but several police officers rush past them and he quiets, then turns to me. “I need to see to a few things. Stay here, and for God’s sake, don’t—” He looks around. “Christ, I can’t leave her here.” He turns back to Zack. “Not until we know for sure it’s safe.”

  What the hell?

  “I wouldn’t,” Zack says. “Good call.”

  Tobias purses his lips and frowns. “Diana, come with me.” He extends his hand to me. I stare, not sure how to respond. “Just… try not to look around too much. Don’t judge, just focus on me.”

  Um. What?

  “Tobias, I need to go home.”

  Something inside me says he isn’t gonna let me go, but I have to try. “My son needs me. If he wakes up and I’m not there, he’ll freak.”

  Zack shakes his head. “No one goes anywhere until we’ve lifted the lockdown for everyone. I’m sorry, but you have to stay.” I open my mouth to protest, but he shakes his head again. “You’ll have to follow instructions, ma’am.”

  Ma’am? I am only thirty-one years old, thankyouverymuch.

  I blink at him as if he spoke a foreign language. “What?”

  “You can’t go,” he repeats. “Not until we’ve interrogated everyone here tonight and gotten word it’s safe to release them.”

  I don’t even know where I am, I want to say. But I have to play it safe and not draw attention to why I’m here.

  Tobias looks at me before he talks. “Need to talk to her alone. Give us five?”

  Zack nods. “Make it quick.” He joins the officers in the hallway, and Tobias shuts the door.

  “Who’s your son with?” he asks in a controlled but gentle voice, as if he’s afraid I’ll lose my shit again.

  “A babysitter,” I say, shaking my head. He won’t understand. How can he?

  “How old’s your son?” he asks, his arms crossed on his chest, staring at me with those dark, probing eyes that make me feel naked and exposed.

  I swallow. “Eight.”

  He frowns slightly. “Eight? And he won’t understand if he wakes up and you’re not there?”

  God.

  I close my eyes and inhale briefly, willing myself to ignore the anxiety that threatens to choke me. I open my eyes. “He… doesn’t handle surprises well. He needs structure and routine and predictability.”

  His brows furrow. I exhale, and continue. “He’s on the spectrum,” I say, willing my voice to stay steady. “Though he’s—he’s high functioning.”

  Tobias’s eyes soften, and he nods, slowly. Damn, I can’t take his sympathy. It’ll make me cry, and I don’t want that. The small gesture of compassion loosens the knot in my chest, and tears blur my vision. Fuck. I blink them back and take another deep breath, my voice dropping to a whisper. “But I have to get home. Listen, I’m so sorry about your car. I swear to God I’m good for the damage. This isn’t me. This isn’t what I do. I don’t know what came over me. I’ll give you every means to contact me you need.”

  Tobias shakes his head, uncrosses his arms, and steps closer to me. “I’m sorry, Diana. Listen, I hear you, but I can’t let you go home right now.”

  “Please,” I beg.

  He shakes his head with finality. “I can’t. Our entire facility is on lockdown.”

  Dread gnaws my stomach. “Where are we? What is this place?”

  Tobias smiles grimly. “Welcome to Verge. New York City’s most reputable BDSM club.”

  A nervous giggle bubbles up. “I—you—can’t be serious,” I say, shaking my head, welcoming the comic relief. “You’re joking. BDSM? Like Fifty Shades of Grey BDSM?” He shrugs a shoulder. “And that’s legal here?”

  His deep chuckle sends shivers down my spine. “Of course it’s legal. That officer I’m friends with? He’s a member here and believe me, that guy’s as law-abiding as they come.”

  My jaw drops. “Are you kidding me?”

  He rolls his eyes. “For God’s sake, it isn’t what you think it is.”

  But before we can talk further, a knock comes at the door.

  “I didn’t want to have to bring you in there, yet, but you’ll have to come with me now.” He leans in, his large, strong body brushing up against mine, and fixes me with a stern look. “Stay by my side and do what I say.” His voice lowers, his brows furrowing. “Do that and you’ll be fine.”

  I huff out a laugh. Suddenly, the whole thing seems preposterous. I’m with a… master or whatever? At a BDSM Club? For real? “Whatever you say… sir.” I snicker, but he only opens the door, his jaw tight.

  “Watch it, Diana.”

  I walk by his side, surprised that my body responds instinctively. His deep voice resonates through my limbs, his commanding nature sending a reluctant throb to my lady parts.

  Shit.

  I smirk to myself as I walk out of his office. One thing’s for sure. Beatrice will think this is epic.

  Chapter 4

  I reach for her hand as we leave the office. Her eyes widen as if startled, and she takes in a ragged breath, but doesn’t take my hand. Her hand shook when I held it in the office, but now she pulls away from me, and tucks her arms across her chest. We walk so closely, though, I could touch her if I wanted to. And God, I want to.

  She’s gorgeous. My stomach warms at the feel of her skin brushing mine as we round the corner and enter the hallway. It isn’t just her curvy, vivacious body or fetching eyes. Or the full lips I want to take between my teeth. Or the round, beautiful ass that needs a good, hard session. It’s the ardor that stokes who she is. The woman is fire and ice.

  My office sits at the entrance to Verge, and beyond that, a long hallway leads to the lobby where guests discuss limits. Contracts are offered. Couples meet here before ente
ring the more populated rooms. The first doorway opens to the heart of Verge, a bar and dance floor, and another leads to the dungeon, the party room, and private rooms.

  As we near the lobby, Diana’s body tightens, and her breathing becomes louder, labored.

  “Breathe, Diana,” I remind her. She gives me a quick nod, and her chest rises with the exertion as she lets out a breath slowly.

  “Got it,” she says. “I’m fine, really.” She hugs her arms tighter across her chest.

  Zack approaches, pushing his way between us. “Everyone on staff is accounted for,” he says. “Of course, I can’t speak for all the dominants who come here, though. We’ll have to do the best we can with what we’ve got.”

  “I’ve got the name of every dominant who’s ever crossed this threshold,” I say. Zack merely nods as he walks through the lobby to the bar, Diana following. The relaxed atmosphere of the bar changes when he walks in with me. Voices hush, and couples that were slouched together on the couch sit upright, all eyes on the three of us.

  The entryway opens to a large area, with a bar against one wall. The lighting is dim, soft jazz streams through speakers. We try to keep Verge classy. Though the crowds are heavier on Friday evenings, the main dance floor is often the least populated area in the club. Behind the bar to the left are doorways that lead to the… kinkier areas of Verge.

  I’ll keep her in the main room. Whatever trust I’ve established in the brief interactions we’ve had thus far could vanish completely if she looks into the rooms beyond the bar. I know if she catches a glimpse of someone roped to the St. Andrew’s Cross, she’ll lose her mind.

  “Not much play in the bar area,” I say to her as all eyes follow us. “But beyond the bar are the dungeon, party, and private rooms. All consensual. All safe. All sane.”

  Zack whips his head around and shoots me a probing look, but I dismiss him with a quick shake of my head.

  “Master Tobias.” The low drawl arrests my attention, though I don’t even need to look to know who’s talking. The only Verge member who speaks with a drawl is Travis, a ruggedly handsome bartender, and youngest member of our staff.

  I give him a chin lift. “Travis.”

  “What’s goin’ on?” He wipes his hand on a bar towel and tucks the towel into the waistband of his thick leather belt, then brushes his longish sandy-brown hair out of his eyes. “I hear there’s a lockdown?”

  “Shh,” I warn. “We’ll keep it as brief as we can. One at a time, we need reports from each member of the staff.”

  Travis raises a brow. “Oh?”

  I lean into the bar and speak in a low voice. “Sexual assault this evening, victim may have ties to the club. Everyone has to be questioned.”

  He whistles, his brows drawing together and his jaw clenching. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbles. “Someone we know?”

  “Not someone I recognize. Friend says she hasn’t been here in a while but returned tonight. I need you to go back to my office with Zack. I’ll man the bar.” I take my place behind the bar as Travis leaves with Zack.

  Diana looks around with wide eyes. “Doesn’t look like a BDSM club,” she mumbles. “Looks… normal.”

  I snort. “And what exactly do you think a BDSM club looks like? Cuz Lord knows you haven’t set foot in one.”

  She crosses her arms on her chest. “Oh yeah? How’d you know I’ve never been in one? I could be, like—a BDSM club expert or designer.”

  My shoulders shake with laughter. “Designer? Like, let me interest you in these handmade spanking benches, sir? The pine with velvet-wrapped cuffs enhance the décor.”

  She smiles, her lips quirking up at the edges. It’s the first time I’ve seen her smile all night. Her face lights up like daisies blooming. “I’d recommend something sturdier than pine for a spanking bench,” she says, “assuming there would be impact.”

  “Oh?” I ask, as a customer approaches and orders a pint. I pull the beer from the tap, slide it onto the counter, and update his tab. “What might you recommend?”

  “Cedar,” she says, “or perhaps oak.”

  “I’m surprised. You don’t strike me as the type who’d be familiar with the makings of a spanking bench.” My cock thickens at the mere thought of her gorgeous body stretched over the bench, ass perched high, waiting for me to punish her. I grab a glass and fill it with water, snag a wedge of lemon, and slide it over to her.

  She frowns. “I could use something a bit stronger than this if I’m sticking around all night.”

  I sober, leaning over the bar to speak into her ear above the noise around us. “Not on my watch. Did you forget how we met? You were sloshed and vandalizing my car. You can have water, seltzer, or ginger ale. You pick.”

  “How generous of you,” she snaps, glaring.

  “It is, thank you,” I respond, choosing to ignore her snark.

  A sharp slapping sound makes her jump. She cranes her neck behind her and gasps at the sight of a woman upended over a guy’s lap.

  “You let that happen in public?” She seems genuinely appalled.

  “This is hardly public, Diana.” I stifle a chuckle as the man places the woman back on the chair and she sits with her head lowered, chastened. “And, sweetheart, that’s tame compared to what you’ll find behind those doors.” I gesture to the private rooms.

  She gulps her drink as if wishing it was something stronger. She doesn’t respond, but pulls out her phone and glances at it.

  “All good at home?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” she says with a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

  I fill drinks and watch her as she sips her water. “I could decorate a place like this,” she muses after a while.

  “Oh?”

  “I’m an interior decorator. You could use a little help in the décor department, you know.”

  I grin at her. “People don’t come here for the décor, babe.”

  She rolls her eyes and I stifle a growl, imagining what it would be like to fist that hair of hers and teach her to behave. I never allow my subs to roll their eyes at me.

  She’s not your sub.

  “Such a male thing to say,” she quips. “God, they don’t come here for the décor,” she mocks. “Of course you’d say that. You’ve practically outfitted this place with moose antlers.” She waves a hand around and shakes her head, not at all heeding my warning growl. “People don’t come for the décor,” she agrees with a nod. “But it affects the way they feel when they’re here. Tell me this,” she continues. “You go to a restaurant and order a sandwich, and it comes on paper plates with thin napkins, versus going to a place that has fine linens and tablecloths. Which do you feel is higher quality?”

  “Depends. Best New York style pizza in the city is served on paper plates.”

  “Oh for God’s sake.”

  “It’s true. I go to a swanky place I expect to pay more, not necessarily get better quality.”

  She shakes her head. “Well, you are a man. How many of the people who come here are of the male variety?’

  My lips twitch. “About half.”

  She nods. “Ask the females what they think,” she says, and she shoots me a wink.

  My cock pushes harder against my jeans. Christ, her snarky attitude entices me, begging to be fucked out of her.

  “Master… Tobias?” I look up to find Philippa, a petite brunette, standing near the bar. Something isn’t right. She looks at me through tear-stained eyes, her cheeks red and puffy, then she looks to Diana.

  “I don’t mean to interrupt anything,” she says in a husky whisper, her voice trembling.

  I shake my head and place the bar mop down. “We were just chatting. You’re not interrupting.” She’s one of my favorite clients. Ten years younger than I am, a natural submissive, she’s too timid for my personal tastes but a sweet girl. I never pursue anything more than friendship with the women in my club. A journalist by day, Philippa keeps her nighttime club visits secret.

  “I know the woman who w
as attacked,” she whispers, her eyes filling with tears. “Do you?”

  I shake my head. But now the reality of what we face really hits me. A woman within close proximity has been violently abused, a woman with connections to my establishment, and the women here… tonight… are at risk, the perpetrator still at large.

  I reach out and gently touch her hand. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t. Do you need to sit down and have a drink? They’re investigating now. We’ll do the best we can to get to the bottom of this.”

  She sits down and takes the glass I hand her, sips the water, and asks, “Something stronger, please?”

  I smile. “Fireball?” Her dom teases her relentlessly for her penchant for the fiery whiskey.

  She smiles weakly and nods.

  I push the shot glass to her. “On the house, honey. Philippa, meet my friend Diana.”

  Philippa turns and offers her hand to Diana. I’m struck with the irony of calling Diana my friend after she’s vandalized my car, but I don’t want anyone getting the wrong impression. She sure as hell isn’t more than a friend.

  “It’s all going to be okay,” I reassure Philippa. “I promise, we’ll protect our members as best we can. Okay?”

  “Thank you, sir. Daddy’s a bit late tonight, but he’ll take good care of me when he gets here.”

  Diana sits up straighter. I ignore her apparent outrage. If she can’t handle what’s normal around here, it’s her own damn fault. I don’t make apologies for who I am. We welcome kinksters from all walks of life without judgment, and I live my own life without apology.

  Diana looks at me with wide eyes. “Daddy?” she mouths.

  I nod. She points a finger at me as if to ask, you?

  I swallow a laugh, knowing neither woman would appreciate my amusement right now, and I shake my head. No, I’m not a Daddy, but I know plenty who are.

  The women talk amicably as I wipe down the counter and serve drinks, and then I hear Diana say, “Yeah I’d love it if you’d show me around. A tour, maybe? Master Tobias hasn’t had the chance.”

  Hell no.

  “I don’t think so,” I start to say, but I’m interrupted by Zack returning.