Chapter 1
Within seconds of meeting a woman, Regina could assign her to one of two lists.
List A: Women Not Worth My Time.
List B: Women I'd Like to Fuck.
List A grew every hour she worked at the nightclub, The Enchanted Forest. She couldn't remember the last time a woman had landed herself on List B.
That might explain why Regina dropped her bullwhip when she caught her attention. Whoever she was. Potential List B strode across the floor as if she owned the place. She had that stereotypical bad girl look—leather, tattoos, and a giant chip on her shoulder—which was contradicted by the sweetest face she'd ever seen. When she took a seat at the table closest to her stage, she leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs at the ankle, as if she planned to stay for a while.
Interesting. And entirely fuckable.
Sipping her beverage, Angel Face gazed up at her with an odd gleam of challenge in her green eyes. Something about her had Regina instantly thinking naughty thoughts. Only half of them involved inflicting pain on her tight body. Oh, the girl was a looker, no denying that, but that wasn't her main appeal. Strange thing was Regina didn't know what set her apart from the other nightclub patrons. Perhaps she needed a new list just for him.
Temporary List C: Women I Can't Instantly Label. Regina had no doubt that this list's only assignee would quickly land herself on List A. In no way would she ever consider a customer List B potential. It didn't matter how attractive she was.
Regina retrieved her bullwhip from the stage floor (how embarrassing) and cracked it next to Hottie's cheek. She didn't flinch. Her body tensed, but not with fear. From the slight gasp she emitted and the flutter of her lashes, Regina could tell her threat turned the other woman on.
Most men and even some women liked to watch Regina's routine from the shadows and think they could take her abuse. Trying to show their toughness, they chose the dominatrix in leather to entertain them at The Enchanted Forest, but few sat within striking distance of her bullwhip. Not that she'd actually hit anyone at the club. If someone wanted her to punish them for being naughty, they had to pay extra.
Regina drew her arm back and lashed her whip at the new arrival's cheek again. The leather snapped centimeters from the other woman's skin. Regina was satisfied when she didn't flinch this time either. Oh Lord, she'd be fun to break. It had been forever since she'd had a real challenge in her dungeon.
The other woman stared directly into Regina's eyes as she danced closer. She looked quite young—mid twenties, maybe—but she had eyes wise beyond her years. Regina would bet she'd seen a lot of tragedy in her life. Many of those who sought her for release had.
The young woman beckoned her closer with a crooked finger. Surprised, Regina arched a brow at her and glanced at Smee, the bouncer who stood near the stage. She wasn't supposed to discuss her side business at the club. As far as her coworkers were concerned, Regina's dominatrix routine was entirely an act. Later, when she moved to the floor to interact with customers on a more personal basis, she would slip her card to potential slaves, but her stage set wasn't over yet. She needed to concentrate on her dancing and not daydream about making some tough-looking ubercutie her bitch.
Regina hooked her leg around a silver pole and twirled around it, her long, black hair flying out behind her. When she stopped, she found the girl had vacated her chair and was standing against the stage at her feet. The girl pulled a bill from her back pocket and held it out to Regina between two fingers. Hello, C-note. Mama needs a new pair of boots.
Holding onto the pole with one hand, Regina leaned toward the customer, offering the tops of her full breasts to her view.
The other woman's gaze shifted to Regina's bare skin, and she drew her tongue over her upper lip. Usually, one customer looked as mundane as another to her, but Regina took in every inch of this one, from her heavy black boots to her curled blond hair. Light hair. Light eyes. Light creamy skin. The hint of a tattoo revealed itself above the neckline of her T-shirt. A studded leather band adorned her right wrist. She looked hard and tough, yet saccharine and sweet at the same time. A hell's angel, heavy on the angel.
She slid the bill between Regina's breasts and into the bodice of her black leather bustier. As the girl's fingertips brushed her skin, her nipples tightened. Totally unusual reaction for her. Customers typically gave her the heebie-jeebies when they touched her. This one had all her systems set to go. The small silver hoops in the other woman's earlobes caught a strobe light. Regina gnawed on her tongue, wanting to nibble on her ear instead. She did have a thing for ears.
Um, wrong answer, Regina. Customers were never fair game for action in the sack.
"Do you do private dances?", the girls asked, her bottle green eyes locked with Regina's chocolate brown. Her voice was lighter than Regina had expected and so quiet, she wouldn't have heard the girl over the throbbing club music if she hadn't been leaning so close.
"You mean like a lap dance?"
"If that's what you do. How much?"
"Fifty bucks."
She handed Regina another hundred. The girl must have had a good day at the casino. She didn't look rich. She wore a plain white T-shirt, worn red leather jacket, and snug blue jeans, which clung to her pert ass. Regina was starting to think her next dance should be the horizontal mamba.
Regina, pull yourself together, woman. She's a customer. No can do. Oh, but she so wanted to. Do. Her.
The other woman's gaze lowered tot he floor, and she flushed. "Do you offer other services?"
Whoa, sweetie. Brakes engaged. "I'm not a prostitute, if that's what you're asking."
The blonde shook her head. "That;s not what I meant. I want you to hurt me." She drew a deep, shuddering breath into her expanding chest. "Hard-core."
Oh yeah. Can do, sugar.
Regina glanced over at the bouncer again to make sure he wasn't watching her side transaction. Smee's attention was on the far stage, where The Enchanted Forest's newest dancer, Tina, a.k.a. Tinkerbell, was dancing in her green wings and plastic wand. Men were mesmerized by her. Even though Tina had a fantastic body and knew how to move it, she simply didn't have the right mind-set to be an exotic dancer. None of the drooling men who surrounded Tinkerbell's stage with slightly bulging eyes and excessively bulging flies would agree with Regina's opinion. All they saw was her beautiful outer package—not the severely broken heart within. Regina saw it though. She'd recognized it the instant she'd met Tina and helped her land this job. Poor lamb. So confused and conflicted.
Regina returned her attention to the woman at her feet. "I do indulge for a price," Regina told her, "but no sex."
"I don't need sex."
Regina nodded. The girl wasn't new to this. Which mad her so much more fun than Regina's usual victims. She had a few regulars who visited her dungeon, but most of her customers were guys visiting Vegas who wanted to explore their darker sides for a night. She never saw most of them again, which suited her just fine. Many dommes preferred regulars, but Regina would rather turn over a quick buck and avoid growing fond of one her submissives.
Her current interest's body held tension in every line. When the other woman glanced up at her, the deep emotional pain in her gaze made Regina's belly quiver. Yeah, Blondie, you're exactly the challenge I need right now. "I can work you over, angel, but not here. I'll slip you my card later, and you can call me. If you're lucky, I'll show you my dungeon."
The girl shuddered, her breath coming out in an excited gasp.
Maybe Regina should take him backstage and give her a taste of what she had to offer. The other woman looked ready to explode with the strain of containing her pain. She needed the release Regina could give her. And Regina needed to see her grovel at her boots so she could dismiss her as not worth her time. The sooner she joined the thousands of women on List A, the better.
Regina dropped down on her knees on the stage to continue dancing as she talked to the other woman. "When do you need this?"
"As soon as possible."
"I think I have an opening in a few days."
"Tonight. I've got money. Name your price."
Name your price? She was definitely speaking Regina's language, but making her wait would do half Regina's work for her. She ran her blood red,pointed nails down the side of the girl's neck, leaving light scratches in their wake. "I'll check my calendar and see if I can squeeze you in. Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day."
Regina was eager to raise welts on the blonde's flesh and hear her cry out in pain. Wanted the ultimate prize the girl would gift her: begging her for mercy, begging her to stop. That sweet instant she gave all of her power and Regina owned her. That's what she wanted. What she needed to keep herself elevated from that deep, dark pit she'd once resided in. But it was too soon to indulge the blonde. She'd attain greater fulfillment if Regina put her off a few days. Let the anticipation settle into her body and her thoughts until she could think of nothing but the delicious agony Regina promised.
A commotion on the other side of the room drew Regina's attention. Smee, Regina's bouncer, darted toward Tinkerbell's stage. Some big, good looking customer had captured Tina in his arms. She was wrapped in a leather jacket with her arms trapped helplessly. Several bouncers were trying to secure her release. Several others were escorting some short, brunette woman out of the club. Another guy standing next to Tina's captor shook his head in disgrace. All three customers had a similar look to them. Like they were in some rock band or something. Come to think of it, the cute chick at the end of her stage had a similar appearance. A matching set. Regina looked down to find her potential good time had vanished
"Motherfuckers!", her blond angel yelled as she launched herself onto the back of one of the bouncers.
SQ—SQ-SQ-SQ-SQ-SQ-SQ
When Emma saw that a bouncer was dragging Sinner's drummer, Lacey, toward the exit, she didn't think, she just acted. All thoughts of the beautiful, black-haired dominatrix and what glorious things she could do to her body fled Emma's mind.
Emma raced across the club, hurdled a chair, and landed on the bouncer's back. She knew she wasn't big enough to take him down, but Emma could fight. If things had turned out differently, she might have become a professional boxer, instead of the bass guitarist for a rock band.
She didn't mind an occasional brawl—she was good at fighting and knew how to knock a man out in one punch—but Emma wasn't even sure why they were engaging with a bunch of bouncers at August's bachelor party. They were supposed to be celebrating, not stirring up shit. Lacey had better have a good reason for making eight club bouncers pissed enough to hit anything that moved. As the fight moved to the sidewalk outside the club, it escalated. Emma took out a couple of guys with one punch, before pausing to assess the situation.
Short and quick. Lacey was putting up a fine fight, but was outnumbered four to one. Surrounded on all sides with no way out, Lacey unexpectedly pointed to the sky. "Look, the flying Elvises!"
All four bouncers stared up at the dark sky like turkeys in a hailstorm. When their attention turned skyward, Lacey crashed into one of the bouncers at waist level, trying to escape the circle of muscle, but as soon as they realized there were no parachuting icons to entertain them, all four bouncers pounded Lacey in rapid succession.
Emma decided to even the odds. Two uppercuts and a couple dozen jabs later, two more bouncers lay on the sidewalk: one out cold, the other attempting to rise, but failing to regain his equilibrium.
Lacey wiped the blood out of her eye, her surprised gaze shifting from the human debris at her feet to Emma. "Jesus, princess, you're a one-woman wrecking crew."
Distracted by Lacey's compliment, Emma found an unexpected fist against her jaw. Pain radiated up the side of her face. Her ears rang. Vision blurred. The pain she didn't mind, but the jar to her senses left her unbalanced. She took another hit to the jaw before she could focus well enough to knock her adversary out with one hard punch under the chin.
Breathing hard, Emma spun and saw some guy whack Sinners' rhythm guitarist, Neal, in the back of the head with an aluminum bat. Neal hadn't even been in the club when the fight broke out. Why had he been targeted? "Fuckin' queer," the bouncer growled.
Neal dropped to the sidewalk, instantly unconscious. Lacey went after the fucktard with the bat, yanking the weapon out of his hands, and tossing it into the road beyond the sidewalk.
"No one." Lacey punched to guy in the face. "Calls him." Hit him again. "A queer." And again. "Ever." Lacey continued to pummel the guy until he stopped getting up.
Their lead guitarist, August (when in the hell had he joined the fray?), had a one-on-one fight going with the last bouncer standing. The two of them went back and forth with blows down the sidewalk. August took a hard fist to the nose, which pissed him off enough to take the guy down with a couple quick punches.
Emma took a deep breath. Glad it was over. Now maybe she could finish her whiskey and make that appointment with that hot-as-blue-flames dominatrix. Sinners' vocalist, Killian, burst out of the club. Apparently, he'd gotten tired of the stripper he'd captured off the stage and was ready to fight. They could have used him earlier. Killian was huge. A bodybuilder who would have made a good bouncer had he not been gifted with a voice from the heavens. Killian glanced around, looking for someone to hit, but every bouncer was already down.
Unfortunately, so was Neal.
Killian crossed the sidewalk in two strides and bent over Neal. Killian took him by both shoulders, and gave him a gentle shake. Out cold, Neal's head lolled loosely. "Neal? Neal! Neal, open your eyes." Killian glanced at Lacey. "What the fuck happened to him?"
"That douche bag whacked him in the back of the head with a ball bat." Said douche bag was groaning in the middle of the sidewalk. Lacey had made a mess of the guy's face.
"What the fuck?"Killian eased Neal down to the sidewalk, dropped to his knees, and put his ear to Neal's chest. "His heart's still beating. He's breathing."
"Well, duh. You didn't think he was dead, did you? He isn't even bleeding."
August staggered his way back up the sidewalk to join them. He massaged the knuckles of his right hand, his dark brown brows drawn together in an angry scowl. "Damn it, Lacey, why do you always have to start shit?"
"It was Killian's fault. He's the one who grabbed Tina off the stage."
Emma's gaze swiveled toward Killian in astonishment. Tina? Killian's fiancee who'd dumped him almost two years ago? Small world. Emma hadn't recognized her without clothes.
"Who cares who started it? It's over," Killian said. "Let's get the fuck out of here before the cops show up. I doubt Ruby will want to bail August out of jail on their wedding day, and then there's the concert tomorrow. Kind of can't miss it."
They probably should have thought of that before they messed up their hands, faces, and bodies in a brawl that seemed pointless now that it ended. While a world record contender for the Shortest Bachelor Party Ever, August's last night as a single man had definitely been one to remember.
Emma glanced at the club's door and released a frustrated sigh. She hadn't gotten that lady-wood inducing dominatrix's card, and she so needed to see the dark haired woman in private. Fighting tended to release some of her tension—that's why she continued to box for recreation, even though he had a better gig in a rock band now—but getting in a bar fight didn't sooth her soul's turmoil. Not in the same way being whipped to the limits of her tolerance by a woman in spiked heels and black leather would.
Killian scooped Neal off the sidewalk, tossed him over one broad shoulder, and headed to the red '57 Thunderbird parked at the curb. The sound of sirens grew increasingly loud.
Emma, let's go!" Lacey shouted.
After one last look of longing at the club's swinging doors, Emma climbed on her Harley, waited for Lacey to settle down behind him, and then followed the car back to their tour bus behind the Mandalay Bay Hotel. Surely someone would report their vehicles. There were plenty of witnesses to the fight. Every member of her band was probably screwed. Busted. In huge trouble. Their manager Aiden, had told them if any of them were arrested again, not to bother calling him. He refused to bail them out. He also threatened their stage crew with immediate termination should they lend their aid. Aiden didn't make idle threats.
When Emma pulled to a stop behind the tour bus, Neal stumbled out of Ruby's car and leaned against the fender. At least he was conscious now. Emma rocked the bike back on its kickstand, shut off the engine, and went to check on Neal.
"You all right, man?"Emma asked.
None of his band mates were Emma would consider tan, but Neal looked downright ghostly. "Yeah. Just a little dizzy." Neal pressed on his temples with both hands. "Fuck, my head hurts."
August leaned out the driver's window. "Get back in the car, Neal, and we'll take you to the hospital."
"Fuck that. You know how I hate hospitals. Why do you think I never followed in my father's footsteps?"
"Because you're too dumb to be a doctor," August said, "Now get back in the car."
Killian unfolded his six-foot-four frame from the little car. "Listen to August, Neal. Get back in the car." He grabbed Neal by the shoulders and tried to force him.
Neal pulled out of his grasp. "Lacey's bleeding all over the fuckin' place, and you aren't threatening to take her to the hospital."
Killian shrugged. "Whatever. It;s just Lacey."
"Thank you very fucking much for your concern, Killian," Lacey said. "Really. Appreciate it." From the gash on the side of her head, blood continued to drip down Lacey's face and onto her black T-shirt.
"Do you need stitches?" Emma asked.
Lacey's brows drew together. "Do you?"
Emma shook her head. "I'm not bleeding anywhere."
"And why is that, princess?"
Emma shrugged, shifting her gaze to the ground to prevent Lacey from recognizing that she'd managed to push her buttons. Again. She just couldn't win with Lacey. Ever. And Emma respected her too much to knock her on her ass. Emma took a deep breath and released it slowly as she stared at the ground. She took a a lot of shit from Lacey, but if that's what she had to do to stay in this band, she'd continue to take it. Nothing else on this whole fucking planet meant more to her than these four brilliant musicians.
Killian, give me your sunglasses," August said, now standing in their little huddle and waving a hand at Killian.
"What the fuck do you need sunglasses for? It's almost midnight."
"Just hand them over."
Killian retrieved his shades from his jacket pocket, handed them to August, and then took a deep breath. "Okay, I'm going in, Ruby is going to kill me for letting August get his ass kicked the night before their wedding."
"I didn't get my ass kicked."
"You've looked better, my friend. Trust me on that."
Killian headed up the tour bus steps, followed by Lacey.
"Yous sure you're okay, Neal?" Emma asked.
"Yeah. I just need some ice." Neal fingered the back of his head and winced. He followed Lacey up the steps, only veering slightly to the left.
"You go next,' August insisted of Emma.
Emma grinned at him. "Afraid of Ruby?"
"Hell, yeah, I'm afraid of Ruby. I hate arguing with her. She always wins. And she has every reason to be pissed at me. Who wants to stand at the altar with a guy who has two black eyes?"
Emma's grin widened, and the warmth of embarrassment spread across her face. "Ruby does. She loves you."
August took a deep breath. "I hope you're right. God, I can't get that ring on her finger fast enough. Okay, Emma, go. Killian's probably broken the news to her by now. I need multiple obstacles in her path, and I don't think she'd actually hit you. She thinks you're the sweet one." August almost choked on his laugh.
Emma had never given Ruby a reason to think otherwise. "Everything will be okay. Just grovel."
"Grovel?" August looked reflective for a moment, and then nodded."Can do."
Emma climbed the steps to find Ruby, still wearing her business and looking all prim and proper, when she was decidedly not prim and proper by any stretch of the imagination, fussing over the cut near Lacey's temple. Lacey ate up every minute of her concern. She had a little, make that big, crush on August's woman, so any attention Ruby paid her made her giddy and stupid. Neal was searching the freezer for ice. Killian stood next to the dining table looking like he'd robbed a bank.
It didn't even take two minutes for Ruby to put August in his place. She was conscious enough of the lack of privacy to take their argument to the bedroom at the back of the bus, but even with the door closed, Emma could hear August's groveling. He was doing a fine job by Emma's estimation, though Ruby still didn't sound too forgiving about her fiance's matching black eyes.
Emma rubbed her swollen knuckles, wondering how she was going to play the nest night. She couldn't let herself get into any more fights. She didn't want to give them any reason to fire her from the band. Not after she'd worked so hard to become a part of it.
Killian retrieved a bottle of aspirin from the bathroom and grinned as he handed it to Neal. He nodded toward the thin bedroom door. "I guess they made up."
No more sounds of August groveling. Just the unmistakable cries of ecstasy that Ruby produced on a very regular basis.
Neal laughed. "Who can stay mad at August?" He swallowed several pills and passed the bottle to Lacey.
"I'm glad they made up," Lacey said, holding a bloody dish towel to her temple. "I'd have felt terrible if she called the wedding off."
"You should feel terrible," Emma said, staring at the floor, as she knew her gaze would hold a challenge. Through all the lessons her foster father tried to teach her, keeping defiance out of her gaze had never stuck. "You started the whole thing."
"Well I didn't ask for your help, princess, now did I?" Lacey said.
Nope, she hadn't. Emma should have stayed out of it and let those bouncers rearrange Lacey's face.
Emma pursed her lips and nodded slightly. She left the bus without a word, not in the mood for another confrontation. Not with Lacey. The woman who had no idea how much of a positive impact she'd had on Emma's life. If she'd though of Lacey as anything less than her hero, she would have punched her in the face years ago.
Emma climbed on her Harley, secured her helmet, and started the bike. The engine roared to life beneath her. The freedom the sound represented instantly brought her peace of mind. She headed off, not really knowing where she was going, but her thoughts had settled on a black-haired beauty with a whip. That woman was exactly what she needed.
She wondered if the other woman was still at the club. Emma needed to pick up that card she;d promised her and make an appointment for her perfect abuse.
Immediately.