Texas Sirens: Siren In The City Part 7

He was on the third little bottle when a sudden thought occurred to him.

A man in mourning was highly sympathetic.

It solved several problems. Death would keep Lucas's mouth shut.

It would put the question of Jack Barnes firmly on the shelf. It would also give the Senator a platform to talk about drugs and alcohol. Law and order could be his central focus.

It was a gamble, but then again, he was a gambler.

64.

Chapter Six.

Abby's mouth came open as Sam walked out.

"Wow." She'd seen Sam look yummy before, but this was ridiculous. He was wearing black leather pants with a snowy white dress shirt open at the throat. He'd left several b.u.t.tons undone, showing off his perfectly cut chest. The leather was tight and looked good against the black motorcycle boots on his feet. His blond hair curled perfectly right below his ears, giving a hint of softness to the square line of his jaw. He was devastatingly masculine, and Abby wondered why they were bothering to leave the room at all.

Sam turned around, giving her a perfect view of his tight backside.

"You like?"

Abby walked up and cupped those muscled buns. "I love, and you know it."

Sam turned and pulled her close, returning the favor by sliding his hands down to her a.s.s. A small smile curved on his lips. "I'm glad you like it, baby. This is pretty much the way the Doms dress down in The Club."

"Is it the way you used to dress when you worked here?" Abby was very curious about Sam's time here. She'd heard a bit about what Jack had done when he worked at Julian Lodge's club. Jack had been the resident Dom. He'd played out scenes with submissives and trained clients who wanted to become Doms or Dommes. Jack knew exactly how much pain to give to enhance a sub's pleasure. She knew less about what Sam had done besides his job as a bartender.

65.

"No, I wore way less." Sam smirked just a little bit. Abby knew he was thinking of something naughty. "I almost never wore a shirt back in those days."

"And pants?" Abby asked with a giggle.

"Optional on some nights."

Abby wrapped her arms around his waist. "Tell me something, Sam. Who tipped better, men or women?"

He seemed surprised for a minute, and he tensed up briefly. He almost immediately laughed it off. "Men. Men were definitely better tippers." He leaned over and kissed her. Abby went up on her tip toes to press her mouth against his.

"They're used to paying for s.e.x," Abby said sarcastically. She thought about the way Julian Lodge had practically eaten Sam up with his eyes. "Tell me something, did Julian tip well?"

Sam stared down at her for a moment. "Julian didn't tip, but he paid well. He was my boss."

Abby didn't quite buy that. There had been an awful lot of tension between Sam and the club owner. "Was he just your boss, Sam?" She put her hand on his chest to stop him from turning away. "Don't. You don't have to answer me if you don't want to, but don't think I'm judging you. I love you. I'm just curious. And besides, you know how perverted I can be. If you have s.e.x stories about that scary man, I want to hear them."

"Abigail, you dirty little girl, I did not have s.e.x with Julian Lodge," Sam protested with a prolonged sigh.

"Oh, well, I can fantasize." Abby stared up at him. "He wanted you, though?"

Sam grew very still. "When Jack told him we were leaving, Julian called me into his office. I thought it was strange because he didn't pay a lot of attention to me. He was close to Jack, not me. I went, though. I was curious."

Abby could see where this was going. She had seen the way Julian Lodge stared at Sam. "He asked you to stay with him."

66.

"Yes," Sam agreed quietly. "He saw straight through me. He knew I wanted more from Jack than I was getting. He told me that if I stayed with him, he would make sure I got everything I needed. He promised to take care of me. He promised to be a permanent master for me."

"You said he never kept a submissive for long." Abby was surprised. She'd expected that Julian wanted Sam. She hadn't expected he'd discussed anything permanent.

"He said he was willing to sign a contract. If he wanted out, I would get a good percentage of his wealth. I guess it was kind of like a pre-nup. I don't know what he was thinking, Abby. I just knew what I wanted."

"And you didn't want him," Abby surmised.

"No. I tried to tell him I wasn't gay. I didn't care that he was.

That's a person's business, but I wasn't. He laughed and told me I was fooling myself." Sam's voice was low. He looked down at the ground. "Abby, I've never slept with a man before."

Abby smiled at him. She wasn't surprised. "That's because you only want one."

"Yeah, but I want him. What does that make me?"

"Oh, baby, it makes you Sam." She looked deeply into her husband's eyes. She was only five years older than Sam, but in some ways she was worlds wiser. She'd learned to forgive herself for being human a long time ago. "You love Jack. There's nothing wrong with that. If you wanted Julian, there wouldn't be anything wrong with that, either. I don't care who you wanted in the past, Sam, as long as you want me now. As it happens, I want the same thing you do. I want the three of us together in every way."

"But he doesn't want that, Abby," Sam said sadly. "I think I'm the reason he's pulled away from us. That kiss we had, it threw him off.

He hasn't touched me since. We're only in the same bed together because you're in between us. We have to face facts, Abby. He's never going to want me the way I want him."

67.

Abby didn't believe that for a second. She remembered the night of that fateful kiss. Jack hadn't held back. He hadn't turned away in disgust. He'd known how turned on Sam was, and it hadn't bothered him.

"Abby, do you think he wants me to leave?"

"No, I don't. You're not going anywhere without me, Sam Fleetwood. And we're not going anywhere without Jack." It was time to move the night forward. They would both be miserable if they just sat up here wondering what Jack was doing. It was time to figure out if they needed to move on. Jack was going to react, or he wouldn't. If he was mildly annoyed and asked them to go home, she would know that it was over. If he called for that public punishment Julian had mentioned, well, she would cross that bridge if she came to it. "Show me The Club, Sam."

"All right."

Abigail knew he was reluctant to follow through with this plan, but he took her hand all the same and led her out of the room. They got on the elevator. It was small and every wall was covered in mirrors. Abby smiled. This was the most decadent place she'd ever been in.

"Hey, hold the-" a masculine voice shouted.

The doors closed, and Sam made no attempt to stop them. He grinned down at her. "He can get the next one, baby. I want you all to myself."

Sam pushed a series of b.u.t.tons.

"Are we going to all those floors?" Abby wondered exactly what Sam was planning to do.

"No, it's a code to get to the club level of the building," Sam explained. "Everything is done to protect the clients' privacy. If we weren't staying in the hotel portion of the building, we would walk through the lobby properly dressed, get into the elevator, punch in the code and go to the club level. Once there, we would change clothes in the dressing rooms and get checked in for the night. There are all sorts 68 of security measures to help ensure that the public doesn't figure out what goes on in here."

"Why so secretive?"

"Because there are a lot of public figures into this lifestyle. When I worked here, there were politicians and judges and media people. It could hurt them professionally to get caught in a s.e.x scandal. I know you love a good s.e.x scandal, but I bet if feels different from the other side of the magazine cover. Did I mention how hot you look?"

Abby wrinkled her nose at him. She'd protested the clothes he'd chosen for her, but he wouldn't move on the subject. She was wearing a scarlet red corset over a tight black miniskirt. She studied herself in the mirrors of the elevator. The corset did cinch in her waist, and her b.o.o.bs looked pretty nice. She was wearing four-and-a-half-inch Valentino peep toes that gave her added height and made her legs look sleek. Her hair curled in soft waves around her face. She resisted putting on too much makeup. She wore only mascara and lip gloss.

"You're my beautiful Abby," Sam whispered. He dropped a kiss on her exposed shoulder. "I'm proud to show you off."

Abby smiled as the doors to the elevator opened. Despite everything she'd said to Sam about not being hungry, she had been watching her weight much more closely. She was married to two men who were five years younger than she was. Jack and Sam were prime specimens. There wasn't an ounce of fat between them. It was hard for Abby to look in the mirror and really see what they saw in her.

She remembered that moment when Jack had told her not to be so hard on herself. She knew he'd meant well, but it was such a turnaround from the way he'd handled her before. Before he'd come home from the hospital, if she had called herself fat, she would have found herself over his knee for insulting something Jack considered his.

When she thought about it, how much did she really know about Jack? She'd only known him for a month before she married him.

What if this was the real Jack? And if it wasn't, who could she blame

69.

for his withdrawal? Certainly not Sam. Jack and Sam had lived together in harmony for roughly seventeen years before they met her.

Any way Abby considered it, she was the one who upset this particular apple cart.

What was she going to do if Jack was tired of her? Could she leave them both behind if Jack didn't want her anymore? The thought of going back to a life without them was more than she wanted to contemplate.

Sam pulled her out of the elevator. "Stop worrying. This is our night, Abby. Don't think about anything except relaxing and exploring. We can do anything we want to here, and no one will think less of us. They'll just cheer us on."

She squeezed his hand. The freedom The Club offered sounded enticing. "All right." It would be nice not to think about the future for one night. She glanced around the room she found herself in. Her shoes sank into the thick carpet beneath her. The area was lit by a chandelier, and there was a small desk in the corner. A large man in a business suit sat at the desk with a computer in front of him. He was very still. Abby wondered briefly if he played solitaire while he waited for the elevator to open.

"I'm Samuel Fleetwood. My membership ID is 5772356."

The big man's fingers carefully punched in the numbers. "Good evening, Mr. Fleetwood. Welcome to The Club. Do you require anything? I must warn you all the private dining rooms are full."

"No, thank you, we already ate," Sam replied politely.

"Then please enjoy your evening." The host gestured to the door.

Abby let herself be led toward the inauspicious little door. She looked all around, well aware she probably seemed like a tourist. "I guess I expected something a bit raunchier."

"Abby, this is the lobby." Sam stopped. "Are you sure you can handle this? This is really hardcore."

Abby gave him her patented stare. He wasn't buying it for once.

70.

"Baby, just because you watch a whole lot of HBO doesn't mean you're ready for this," Sam said not unkindly.

But there was no way she was turning back now. She wanted to see this place. She had lied to Julian earlier. If he'd kicked them out, she wouldn't have pressed Sam to find another BDSM club. She was interested in this one for the simple fact that it had such an impact on the two men she loved. They had matured in this place. She had to see it for herself.

"You forget, I also read," Abby said with a confidence she didn't feel. She couldn't help but think about Julian Lodge's words. She would have walked in with Jack and not felt a moment's worry. Sam, she knew, would defend her to the death, but no one would even question Jack.

"All right, let's go." Sam took her hand and led her out of the lobby.

Abby walked through the small door and entered a different world.

The elevator doors closed, and Jack felt his irritation rise. Was it so difficult to hit the open door b.u.t.ton or put a hand out to stop it from closing? When he had a talk with the guy in the Platinum Suite, they would also cover a little thing called common courtesy.

Jack pressed the b.u.t.ton, and after a few moments, got in the elevator. It was a short trip to the lobby. He tried Abby and Sam's cells one more time. His prior understanding with them was rapidly dissolving into irritation. What were they thinking not answering their d.a.m.n phones?