“You wanted to,” Sean accused.
“That goes without saying. Callie is a beautiful woman. As you’ve previously noted, I care for her. Why are we covering this well trampled ground again?”
“Because it’s my right to know exactly what you did with her.” He bounced Thorpe against the wall again.
The f**ker had punched him so hard, he almost felt queasy. But he refused to show weakness.
“Get off me or I’ll have you arrested for assault.” To make his point, Thorpe bent and shoved his shoulder into the Scot’s and, using the wall as leverage, heaved the other man off him. Then he whipped out his phone to text Axel and tapped out their code for “problem.”
“I don’t have time for you,” Thorpe said. “Let’s just say that Callie has feelings for us both, and she offered us the same good-bye. I got her attention, made a few things clear, and left her cuffed to her bed alone, all safe and sound. I even swiped her car keys.” He withdrew them from his pocket and dangled them in front of Sean’s face.
The Scot’s expression turned somewhere between sour and disbelieving. “I want to see her.”
“I’m sorry. I’m still not convinced that you’re in her best interest.”
“And you are?” Kirkpatrick scoffed.
“No. Which is the only reason she wasn’t wearing a collar when you came sniffing around. If and when I decide you can see her, I’ll let you know.”
On cue, Axel charged down the hall with a couple of his staff in tow. Sean came out swinging, but the guards each grabbed one of his arms.
Axel just shoved a hand in Kirkpatrick’s hair and yanked. “You had to pee, huh? Let’s go, motherfucker.”
Thorpe smiled. No one had ever accused Axel of playing nice.
“Don’t call me; I’ll call you.” Thorpe shouted as the men forcibly carried Sean, shouting and belligerent, from the club.
“This isn’t over,” Sean yelled over his shoulder, still fighting them. “She’s mine!”
“Fuck off,” he muttered under his breath, then extracted his phone again, making strides to his office.
Once inside, he paused, then chose a course of action. Lance had been in the dungeon earlier. Perfect. Callie needed care, and she’d do her best to outsmart or wheedle another sub to get away right now. Thorpe had hoped that merely kindling the sexual fire between them might persuade her to stay, but . . . wishful thinking. It would have been smarter if he’d just f**ked her since that had likely been his only opportunity. Damn it. Now he had to tear his thoughts from her pu**y and act strategically. Lance wouldn’t take a lick of crap from her. He was a strong, clever Dom—and didn’t have a heterosexual bone in his body. Even better.
Axel returned a few minutes later, winded and looking like he might have a shiner tomorrow. “Can I press assault charges?”
Thorpe slanted the other Dom a glare. “We don’t need trouble here. Wouldn’t you rather meet him in a dark alley?”
“Fuck, yeah. Is that option on the table, boss?”
He shrugged. “Have fun. Don’t get caught. But before you go, would you ask Lance if he’d take care of Callie?”
With a nod, Axel left. Minutes later, he escorted Lance down the hallway.
Lance paused at Thorpe’s door. “Expecting trouble from our little vixen?”
“Just constantly.” Thorpe smiled faintly. “I have an urgent phone call to make, so I appreciate your assistance.”
“Always happy to help.”
When Lance disappeared, and Axel headed back to the dungeon, Thorpe indulged in one thing he never did during the club’s business hours. But in this case, he figured he was entitled. He poured himself a stiff scotch, plopped into his chair, and downed it. Then he broke his own rules again and called a client to beg.
Logan Edgington answered his phone on the third ring, the noise from a television cluttering the background until he killed it. “Thorpe. ’Sup, man? It’s getting late.”
“I have a situation. I need some information. I’d like to speak with your wife, if that’s all right.”
The former SEAL hesitated for a moment. “Yeah. We were just watching a movie. Tara’s due in about two months and is having some problems with insomnia. If I don’t keep her occupied, she’ll be up ‘nesting’ half the night, which is code for moving furniture without consulting me or asking for help.”
“Hey,” he heard Tara protest in the background. “The twins are active at night. I can’t sleep when I’m being constantly kicked. I said I was sorry.”