On Saturday night, Ghost spent some time simply wandering through the Shadowlands. Pausing to watch a violet wand scene, he breathed in the unique scents—leather, sweat, perfumes, citrusy cleansers…and sex. In BDSM clubs where sex wasn’t permitted, that heady fragrance would be absent.
Not all clubs held the enticing smell of leather, either. But, here, Z had filled the place with expensive leather furniture and hung a myriad of floggers and whips on the walls.
Unfortunately, although the smell was right, the Shadowlands didn’t feel the same. It took him a while to identify the subtle difference.
The sense of community had disappeared.
Why? Was it something Wrecker was doing?
Or was it because, as he and Nolan had discussed, most, if not all, the Masters had been absent for a month or so? Quite a few had been out of town or, like him, swamped with work. Others had taken February off after being here every weekend in January to help cover Z’s absence.
There would probably be a hell of a lot of them here tonight.
Last night with her honeymoon over, Josie had returned to her job as Shadowlands bartender—and had been appalled.
Earlier today, Holt had called everyone to share her concern at the state of the club.
Ghost would’ve been here last night if an old military buddy hadn’t arrived in Tampa. Instead, he’d given Josie and Linda a description of Valerie and asked them to keep an eye out.
Yeah, he’d been intrigued with the pretty professor, and his interest had grown with their second meeting.
She was…captivating. He did love intelligent women, ones who could stand on their own two feet. And the hints of insecurity she’d revealed made him want to scoop her up and reassure her.
Come on, Dr. Winborne. Be brave and show up tonight.
If she didn’t, they’d undoubtedly run into each other on campus. He could ask her out for coffee. She’d be worth taking the time to get to know…and patience was one of his strengths.
“Ghost. How is the evening finding you, sir?” The overly loud, edgy music playing over the speakers almost drowned out Marcus’s slow Southern drawl. Impeccably dressed in a silver-gray suit, the Master had his arm around his wife, Gabi.
Gabi smiled, but as a good submissive, she kept silent.
Betting her docile behavior wouldn’t last long, Ghost smiled back, then answered Marcus. “Actually, I’ve been unpleasantly surprised this evening. And you?”
“The same, I fear.” Marcus appraised the room, then shook his head. “We have much to discuss.”
“I plan to collect more information tonight. Let’s plan on getting everyone together.” Because it appeared they had a mess to fix.
“Agreed.”
A few minutes later, Ghost stopped when greeted by Wendy and Smith. The bulldog-faced burly trucker had a rough manner…and the sweetest submissive.
“How are you two doing these days?”
“Hauling is good.” Smith glanced around. “Club’s not doing so well, gotta say.”
The Dom and his wife tended to pop in once or twice a month for a scene but always seemed oblivious to anything else. If they were concerned, things really had gone to hell. “Can you put your finger on what’s bothering you?”
“Eh, part of the problem are the dungeon monitors the manager hired. Lazy bastards. Spend their time drinking at the bar, so shit happens.”
Ghost felt his jaw tighten. Shit happening meant scenes were going bad. People—submissives—were being hurt. Rather than cursing, he nodded. “We’re assessing what needs to be fixed. Anything else?” He looked at Wendy.
“Go on, baby. Tell him,” Smith prompted.
“We have a lot of new members, and their behavior is…” Wendy leaned against her Dom. “Master Z didn’t tolerate disrespectful submissives, but he also came down hard on Dominants who were pushy or rude. People in the club used to be polite. Respectful to everyone. That’s changed.”
Fuck. Ghost tilted his head. “I think you’ve put your finger on what’s been bothering me, too. Thank you for your honesty—and clear vision.”
Her soft smile was probably part of why the brusque trucker was so in love with her.
With a nod, Ghost continued his stroll around the room, making mental notes of what he saw.
Like the two DMs at the bar talking with Wrecker.
Ghost paused to interrupt a scene where the bottom was obviously panicking, and the newbie Top wasn’t paying attention.
A DM should have been closely monitoring the scene.
Dammit.
Z was supposed to be back any day now. But even if he showed up tomorrow, then what? Ghost shook his head. The Shadowlands owner’s clinical practice was probably