Page 33 of To Catch a Sub

Landon started to laugh.

“You knew she’s an experienced player?” Rolf asked Landon with a frown.

He shook his head, still chuckling.

“Who said I’m experienced? Just because I know things, doesn’t mean I’ve done them. I love to read about diamond heists, but I would never attempt to actually steal a diamond.”

Landon stopped laughing and squeezed her shoulders.

Andrei was eyeing her, a glint in his eye. “She’s going to be working here, right?”

“Yes,” Landon said. “And staying in one of the rooms upstairs.”

“And to protect her, we’ll have to watch her at all times.” Andrei sunk innuendo into the word “watch” and threat into “at all times.” Impressive.

“This isn’t meant to be a safe house,” Rolf said with a frown.

“Then what is it supposed to be,” Colette asked. “Why, exactly, does Interpol own a BDSM club?”

EIGHT

As long as Landon kept his hand on her shoulder, her fingers didn’t tremble.

Merde. That wasn’t a good sign. She should be chafing at the restrictive hold, not finding it comforting.

Then again, it was logical that while surrounded by three men who were all larger and stronger than her, that one of the three she knew was comparatively safe.

“This is the public dungeon, as well as the nightclub.” Agent Rolf led them to the center of a massive, echoing space. On her left, the windows she’d seen from the outside of the building let in light, but it was muted. Massive semi-opaque panels were mounted to the inside of each window so while some daylight filtered in, it was muted and no one could see in, or out.

Good thing, since small stages spaced around the outer walls sported various BDSM equipment—two versions of a St. Andrew’s Cross and stocks, or industrial looking structures made of black-coated beams and pipes. The far side of the large room, opposite the entrance, had a high DJ platform with a lighting rig suspended above it.

“I thought you said it was a private club.” Colette hung back, worried that if she walked further into the room Landon would let his hand drop from her shoulder. She still needed the contact, at least until she was sure her hands wouldn’t tremble. “At least on work nights.”

“Friday through Sunday, this floor is open to anyone willing to pay the cover charge. Up there is always private.”

When Rolf pointed, she looked up. She’d noted the high ceiling when they entered, but hadn’t really looked at it. A few massive industrial fixtures and a plethora of lighting rigs were mounted to the ceiling, while ropes of black cables wound and swagged between the lattice-like metal trusses.

Except it wasn’t a ceiling, it was a loft.

An open rectangle in the middle of the “ceiling” revealed glimpses of the roof high above, though she couldn’t see much due to the dim light.

“The fun stuff is all up there.” Andrei hopped up to sit on the edge of one of the stages, this one bearing a metal arch with chains and rope dangling from it like some industrial, fetish wedding arch. “That is also where we allow full nudity.”

Colette casually slipped her hands into her pockets, then stepped away from Landon. She immediately regretted her decision and missed the comfort of his hands on her body. Making sure to exude casual confidence, she wandered around the space, her heeled boots clicking on the dark concrete floor.

She couldn’t help but imagine people trapped in the various bondage and fetish devices—men, women, some naked, some fully clothed. In an odd way, imagining a person fully clothed on the St. Andrew’s Cross made her swallow hard with fear, while the mental image of a mostly naked person in the same position was titillating.

Colette pressed her forearm gently against her side, which felt tender, but not wet. Hopefully Landon wrapping his arms around her earlier—and jamming her own arm against her injured side—hadn’t ruined her patch job from yesterday.

A leg blocked her path, and Colette stopped short. She hadn’t realized that she’d made it almost all the way around the warehouse to where Andrei sat on what she was now going to refer to as the wedding stage.

She looked from his leg—which he’d stuck straight out to block her path—to his face and raised a brow. Andrei smiled at her, and there was wicked promise in the smile. In another time, another place…

Colette’s gaze slid to Landon, and a little shock ran down her spine when their eyes met. Her attention bounced back to Andrei at the sound of boots hitting concrete.

Andrei had jumped off the stage only to lean against it, his arms crossed over his chest. “It’s like that, is it?” he asked.

“You think you have it all figured out?” she countered, irritated with herself for being so obvious.