they walked silently down the sidewalk. The parking lot lights were haloed by the fog rolling in off the Gulf. Thunder boomed in the distance, echoing Ghost’s anger.
At his convertible, Wrecker opened the door. “The owner’s not going to put up with your crap, you self-righteous bastards. He can’t run this place without me.”
“Yada, yada, yada,” Saxon muttered.
“Leave and don’t come back.” Ghost shoved Wrecker into the car, then joined Saxon and Cullen on the sidewalk.
After glaring at them through the windshield, Wrecker sped from the parking lot.
“You know,” Saxon grumbled, “I really wanted to hit him a couple of times.”
“This was better.” Ghost headed back up the sidewalk. “Cullen, I know Z’s overseas, but can you call him to make the firing official? He’ll want to change the locks and security codes.”
No matter what Wrecker thought, Ghost hadn’t a doubt Z would want the bastard gone.
“Guess you hadn’t heard—Z and family arrived home a few hours ago. It was getting close to the cut-off date for Jessica being able to fly.” Cullen scowled. “And why is it me drafted to tell an overprotective, jetlagged shrink how his manager was preying on teens?”
Ghost’s lips twitched. “Seems like that kind of heartening news should come from an old friend, don’t you think, Saxon?”
Saxon grinned. “Absolutely.”
“Assholes.” Cullen pulled his phone out of his pocket. “He’s going to blow his stack over this mess.”
Knowing Z, Ghost had to agree.
Stepping inside, Saxon stopped, gaze on the security guard. “Seems like those youngsters should’ve been stopped here before setting foot in the club.”
“You’re right.” Anger rising again, Ghost fixed the guard with a stare. “You’re fired. Clear out. The owner will be in touch if you have any wages due…or maybe to discuss charges for ignoring the law about the age of entry.”
The guard rose. “You can’t—”
“Bet?” Ghost asked softly and took a step forward.
“Shit. Fucking shit.” The guard sidled toward the exit. “I just did what Wrecker said. But I’m gone, no problem. I don’t want no fighting.”
The door closed behind him.
Saxon slapped Ghost on the shoulder. “Bet you terrorized your poor troops.
“My operators would have eaten him and Wrecker for breakfast.” Yeah, there were days he really missed his SF comrades.
“Yeah, I’ll call back in half an hour,” Cullen said into the phone, tucked it into his pocket, then frowned at Ghost. “What about a guard for tonight?”
Ghost settled into the guard’s chair. “I’ll hold it down for now. If one of you can relieve me in a bit, I have a pretty submissive who might never return after seeing the dark side of the lifestyle.”
“Valerie, hmm?” Cullen nodded. “She’s got a way about her. If those girls had been small enough to climb in her lap, they would have.”
He understood. The woman simply radiated serenity. Being with her was like experiencing those rare early mornings in Baghdad when there was silence—no shouting, no shooting, no explosions—only a sunrise and the chirping of birds. When a man could remember what peace meant.
“We can be grateful she found them,” Ghost said. “And was able to reassure them enough they’d talk to us.”
“She sounds like good people,” Saxon said.
As the two Doms headed back into the club, Ghost leaned back in the chair.
The manager would be fired. They’d need a new guard. Even worse, there was a problem with the actual atmosphere of the club. Like those three Doms who’d been trying to intimidate a submissive. That should never happen in the Shadowlands.
Guilt swept through Ghost. He’d let the club down. Sure, he’d been buried because of the extra university class and the new prosthesis he’d been testing requiring fittings and formal evaluations. Yes, he’d been busy.
But his presence—any Masters’ presence—might have kept Wrecker somewhat in check. They’d fucked up, all of them. Had let Z and the Shadowlands down.
Chapter Six
Since Valerie doubted she’d ever return to the Shadowlands, she decided to make the most of the night. She smiled at Josie who was waiting for her order. “I don’t think alcohol in here would be wise for me, since I’m still learning my limits.”
Josie tilted her head. “Now, you have me curious. Learning your limits?”
“In a way. My ex’s parents were alcoholics. After a couple of blackouts, we realized the dangers, and he stopped drinking at all. I did, too, to keep him from being tempted.”
And then, despite Valerie’s protests, Kahlua had brought in beer and hard alcohol—and Barry had given in.
Josie’s gaze dropped to Valerie’s ringless hands. “Divorced?”
“Recently.” The dent left by her