Masters at Arms - By Kallypso Masters Page 0,63

as they searched for just the right word for the classified ad. Well, Marc seemed about as much into the conversation as Adam was. What the hell ailed that boy lately?

“I like it.” As long as it doesn’t put me over the edge. Adam watched as the younger man he thought of like a son scribbled that addition onto the notepad on the desk between them. “Read me what we have so far.”

“‘Private club. Friday & Saturday performances only. Eclectic, edgy music—heavy metal and Goth welcome. Auditions start at 3 PM Wednesday. For location and additional info…’ Then the phone number and e-mail.”

“Sounds good to me,” Marc said. He seemed distracted this afternoon. Actually, he’d been that way for well over a year, but refused to tell Adam what was eating at him. Probably still hadn’t gotten over that woman who had dumped him last year. What was her name? Pamela? He’d only brought her to the club a couple times. She seemed nice, but there wasn’t much chemistry between the two other than the Dom/sub thing.

Marc hadn’t talked with him about the relationship, and Adam didn’t go looking to butt in. Still, he thought the younger man could benefit from some advice, if he ever asked for it. Sometimes he came across as too arrogant and manipulative to suit most women. He seemed to have some kind of wall up that always kept them in their place, but that place was never quite as close as women wanted to get.

Marc stood. “I’m sorry, but I’m pulling a night shift to help out a friend, so I’m going to have to hit the road. I trust whatever you both decide to do.”

They said their goodbyes and Adam watched him leave. Maybe he’d try to have a word with him before the club opened up Friday night. With Marc’s SAR work schedule, he didn’t see much of him, though.

Damián, on the other hand, practically lived here and helped run the club.

“Son, you’re in charge of hiring the entertainment.” Adam wouldn’t know what young people wanted to hear if it hit him over the head. Besides, he needed to keep Damián busy so he wouldn’t dwell on things outside his control. He said the nightmares were rare now, but Adam could tell when he showed up with circles under his eyes that he’d been visited by his demons.

Being a Dom helped Damián regain some of the control he’d lost over his life, but Adam worried that he sometimes went a little too deep into SM. He knew it wasn’t the boy’s nature to inflict pain and he thought maybe he was just using SM to release his anger, rather than as an expression of his sexual nature.

Damián slid the notepad across the desk toward Adam. “If we could hire two or three acts—have a mix of styles—we can rotate them and keep things from getting stale.”

Adam pulled the notepad closer. “Sounds good. I’ll e-mail the ad to the online newspaper.”

After discussing some other business matters, mostly about ways to improve the experience at the club for members and their guests, Damián went to set up a new piece of equipment in one of the private playrooms.

Adam watched him leave his office. Damián wore his trademark black leather Harley vest and black jeans. He had long ago ditched the crutches, then his cane. He’d gotten used to walking on the prosthesis and, only when he was overtired, did he walk with a limp.

Here in Denver, Adam, Marc, and Damián had gotten to know each other as civilians and friends. Whenever he thought back to that day in Fallujah, where he’d nearly lost them both—and had lost Miller. Thank God they, at least, had managed to get the rest of the troops home alive.

And these two men had become his family. When he’d lost Joni, he hadn’t thought he’d ever feel he belonged anywhere again.

The three of them were pretty much at the service of any of the subs at Masters at Arms who needed a top. A number of bottoms came to the club solo, just wanting to have a scene with one of them. Marc was the only one who’d seen anyone seriously and that had lasted only a few months. Usually, the three of them were able to accommodate the subs, which might be why so many of them kept coming back and bringing their friends.

Damián told him about a girl in San Diego he’d dated once. Still seemed hung up