screen, Master Drake walked forward, very European in a black silk suit. He had black eyes and black hair and a neatly trimmed, gray-flecked mustache. After setting a supportive hand on Faylee’s shoulder, he turned to the camera. “I’m Drake—and I own Chains, the club in Seattle where this happened. Ghost, if the Shadowlands doesn’t suit, I’d be more than pleased to have you back and even more pleased to acquire a manager. You club members, if you have questions, you may call me. If any of you bother Faylee, I will have the skin flogged from your body.”
The smile he gave was a grim promise.
And the screen went blank.
Beside Ghost, Z chuckled. “I see Drake hasn’t changed. He’s always had a rather stringent attitude toward discipline.”
“All too true.”
Z gave Jessica a squeeze and moved her to stand beside Ghost. “Please watch over her for me, Ghost.” He strolled toward the bar.
When Jessica curled her arm around his, Ghost realized Z had effectively pinned him in place. “Your Master is a sneaky bastard.”
She grinned up. “Isn’t he though? I’m not sure whether he went into psychology because he has a conniving personality or if it’s what he learned from being a shrink.”
Ghost snorted.
At the front of the crowd, Z was saying, “In case any of you are wondering, that was, indeed, Drake, who owns Chains. We’ve been friends for many years. In fact, we’d already discussed this incident before Ghost became a member here.”
There were quite a few members with shame-faced expressions.
Z shook his head. “Gossip happens wherever people gather. However, when the talk becomes destructive to someone’s reputation or potentially harmful to another person, I would request you let me or Ghost know.”
A murmur of agreement came from the people.
“Now,” Z’s smile flashed, “if our Shadowkittens have no more to present, let’s return to enjoying our evening.”
Almost dancing with glee, Sally and Gabi walked over.
Ghost eyed them. “You pulled off quite an operation, ladies.” When they grinned and exchanged fist-bumps with each other, he added the question he’d been considering since Valerie started talking. “Who put it all together?”
“Valerie did,” Sally said. “She was the one who called Drake and talked to Faylee.”
The awakening of hope was painful.
Gabi’s head tilted. “You seem surprised, Colonel.”
“Actually, yes. I thought she’d believed the rumors.” If not, then why had she backed away last night?
“I didn’t get that impression at all,” Gabi said. “In fact, she reamed out a group of gossipers last night.”
“She’s the one who gathered us all together at her apartment to plan this,” Sally added.
Valerie believed in him and had defended him. The feeling was indescribable—like he was back in Special Forces with his teammates to guard his six.
Beside Ghost, Jessica stiffened. He followed her gaze.
At the bar, Z was getting his toy bag from Josie. He slung it over his shoulder.
“Oh God.” Jessica bit her lip. “He plans to play. Why do I think my night might involve more pain than pleasure?”
From Z’s point of view, the Shadowkittens had completely disrupted the usual club evening…without obtaining permission. Ghost asked gravely, “How involved were you in setting this up?”
“I was part of the group. Do you think being pregnant will save me?”
Betting she was the one who gave Valerie the code to the speaker controls, Ghost smothered a smile. “Perhaps.”
Not a chance.
Ghost bowed his head slightly to the three women. “You have my gratitude. Thank you.”
As he moved away, he looked around. He needed to thank Valerie, as well. And…ask her a few questions.
However, if she’d rescued his reputation in her capacity as a friend and believed there was no “them”, she might well decide to slip out without speaking to him.
That wasn’t going to happen.
Chapter Eighteen
Valerie had restored the music, returned the equipment to the owners, and touched base with her conspirators who were in high spirits.
It was time to make her escape. Ghost was the sort of man who’d feel he had to thank her for her part in this. Talk about awkward.
After expressing his gratitude, he’d undoubtedly return to his new play partner. And that would hurt.
As she crossed the room, a muscular sandy-haired man stepped into her path. “Nice presentation, and I’d have to agree you’ve been very good. Do you want your spanking now?”
What?
She stared at him a second. Oh, oh! She had on the shirt she’d bought from Natalia. The one saying SPANK ME I’ve been good.
Chuckling, she shook her head. “I’m afraid I have to be elsewhere.”