Taking this trip to Chicago had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, one he wasn’t ready to regret just yet. He told himself he was on a fact-finding mission, so it made it all right. The fact that he didn’t tell Sam or Elijah was a definite misstep on his part, but he decided he would worry about that later; otherwise, he would find himself back on the plane taking a return trip home.
You need to be here, that little voice in his head said.
“Would you like to go to your hotel first, sir? Or straight to the club?” the driver asked when he was settled into the backseat.
“The club.”
“Very well. We should be there in about twenty minutes.”
Logan nodded, pulling out his phone to check his messages. He noticed one from Sam, so he tapped the screen to play it.
Hey, it’s me. Just thought I’d check in. Deanna said you had an emergency to deal with. Call me when you get this. Please.
He replayed it two more times, hating that he heard the concern and perhaps a hint of fear in her tone. That was his fault. Leaving abruptly wasn’t something he’d ever done before, but the phone call from Trent Ramsey early this afternoon had given him the perfect excuse to make this impromptu trip.
Deciding it would be best to wait to call Sam back, Logan tucked his phone away and stared out the window as the Chicago skyline came into view. It didn’t take long before the car was pulling up to the building that housed Trent’s infamous BDSM club, although, from the outside, it looked more like an industrial hideout than a place someone went to explore their deepest, darkest desires.
“I’ll have your things delivered to your hotel, sir,” the driver informed him as he exited the car.
“Thanks.”
As the car pulled away from the curb, Logan strolled up to the door, then took a deep breath before opening it. The moment he stepped inside, he was given a warm welcome from the young woman perched behind a desk. To an unknowing observer, the space would look like nothing more than a regular reception area. To someone who knew what lay beyond the secured door to the left, there were a few things that stood out. First was the armed security guard sitting casually in one of the chairs, a magazine open in front of him. Logan would bet millions the man hadn’t bothered to skim a single article despite his attempt to pretend otherwise.
“Mr. McCoy,” the receptionist greeted with an enormous grin. “Master Ramsey said you would be stopping by.”
She pulled a drawer out of her desk and held it up.
Knowing the drill, Logan deposited his cell phone inside. She then returned it to its hiding spot and locked it with a key she kept around her wrist before getting to her feet. She moved out from behind the desk, holding something in her hand.
“This denotes you as a personal guest tonight,” she informed him as she secured a bracelet around his wrist. “Just be sure it’s visible if you decide to play.”
Logan could’ve told her there wasn’t a chance in hell of him playing tonight or any other for that matter, but he didn’t bother. He wasn’t here to enjoy the amenities.
“The bar is on the main floor. There’s a two-drink maximum if you intend to play.” She motioned toward the door. “You’ll be screened on your way in, and I’ll let Master Ramsey know you’re here. Enjoy your evening.”
He nodded in thanks, then turned toward the door, which was being opened by the magazine man.
Logan stepped through, allowing a submissive to wave a wand over him, ensuring he wasn’t carrying a weapon or trying to sneak in a camera or cell phone.
He knew the drill, understood it even. Like Luke, Trent was big on security for his members. Providing a safe place to relax and engage in salacious activities was the main objective.
Once inside, Logan headed for the bar and ordered a vodka on the rocks. While the submissive manning the bar prepared his drink, he skimmed the interior of the space. The area was geared toward submissives. There was a lounge area where they could go if they weren’t looking to play. Another section reserved for submissives whose Dominants wanted them to relax. And lastly, an area where submissives could go to kneel on pillows in the hopes of being selected by one of the shopping Doms.
“It’s been a long time, my friend,” came a deep voice from behind him.
Logan slowly turned to see Trent strolling his way with a smirk plastered on his movie-star-handsome face.
“It has,” he agreed, greeting Trent with a back-slapping hug reserved for old friends.
“You didn’t bring Sam and Elijah?” he asked, his gaze scanning the room.
“Just me this time.”
Trent’s light blue eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Tell me there’s no trouble in paradise.”
“I wish I could,” he admitted with a sigh, turning back to retrieve the drink the submissive set on the bar behind him.
“Come on,” Trent urged. “Let’s get comfortable. You can tell me what the hell has you hightailing it outta Dodge.”
