Authors: Jan Bowles
Chapter Two
When Colt glanced out the window, he could just make out Sheriff Bunty’s patrol car, winding its way down the drive. He glanced at his wristwatch. What the hell did the old coot want now? This must be the third visit he’d made this month alone. He had potential clients turning up in a half hour. He did not want the local Sheriff hanging around outside any longer than was strictly necessary. It was bad for business.
Colt grabbed his shirt and began pulling it on as he made his way outside. He’d just tucked it into his jeans when he reached the Sheriff’s car, and he waited for him to slowly emerge from the vehicle. Colt could just make out a bag of Twinkies on the passenger seat. He figured the lawman had a sweet tooth. He’d known Sheriff Bunty since he was a small child, and guessed he must be coming toward retirement. It couldn’t come soon enough as far as he was concerned.
“Afternoon, Colt.”
“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” Colt didn’t have time for pleasantries.
“I’ve had a number of complaints.”
Colt folded his arms across his chest defensively. “Yes?”
The elderly Sheriff smiled and then removed his hat. Squinting from the sun, he rubbed a hand into his sparse gray hair. “The residents of Fairfax don’t like what’s going on here, Colt. They want it to stop.”
“Am I breaking any laws, Sheriff?”
“Now, that I don’t know. Are you?”
Colt breathed in. “This is a private club, for private members only. It’s on private land. I’m not breaking any law in the state of Texas. I’m sure you’ve seen the trespass signs I’ve had installed recently. As far as I can tell, the only people breaking the law around here are those coming onto my property uninvited. People just like you, Sheriff, always bothering me with the concerns of the tiny-minded people of Fairfax.”
“Look, son, you needn’t be aggressive with me. I’ve every right to come asking questions. It’s my job. I’m the goddamn law ’round these parts, in case you’ve forgotten. I’ve been Sheriff here in Fairfax for twenty-five years. Don’t kid yourself I don’t know what’s going on right under my nose. You’re running a sex club. If you thought there wouldn’t be any opposition, then you thought wrong.”
Colt took a deep breath. Arguing with Sheriff Bunty wouldn’t help matters. He decided to be more contrite. “Listen, Abe, you’ve known me all my life. You and I tend to get on pretty well together most of the time. You know I’m a regular sort of guy at heart. Let me assure you that everyone who visits Club Fusion is twenty-one or over. They are all consenting adults. I don’t allow any hookers here, and no money exchanges hands for sex. It’s a lifestyle choice, pure and simple. My members come here strictly for the facilities that I offer.”
The Sheriff nodded. “I like you, Colt, I really do, and I want us to stay friends. But if I hear of anything remotely illegal going on, I’ll come down here and bust your balls.” He placed a hand on Colt’s shoulder. “That’s all I’ve got to say at present.”
Colt smiled as the potbellied lawman drove away. He could barely fit behind the steering wheel of his cruiser. He had no doubt the old buzzard would be back to harass him again. He guessed Sheriff Bunty was probably nursing a hard-on thinking about all the young women who frequented Club Fusion. All he had to do was stay one step ahead of the old bastard. He knew every law in the state of Texas. He’d acted legally on every count. There was no way Bunty could touch him. No way.
* * * *
Kat caught the waiter’s attention, and he came across to take her order. Drinking alone was not her usual style, especially in this cowboy-filled joint, but today was an exception. Big time.
“I’ll have another beer,” she said, raising her empty bottle. As the waiter began to walk away, she called out, “Make that two, will you?” He nodded and continued on his way.
So what if she was getting tight, she had every reason to drown her sorrows. She leaned back against the booth and closed her eyes. Life could be so unfair.
“You don’t mind if I sit here, honey.”
Immediately her eyes flew wide open. Some guy old enough to be her father was already starting to sit down. The beginnings of a beard covered his face, and what little hair he had was almost white. Did he really think she’d be interested in him?
“Excuse me, but I prefer to be on my own.” After the day she’d had, she wouldn’t be much company anyway, and she certainly wasn’t remotely interested in some old guy approaching sixty.
“Now, don’t be like that,” he drawled. “What’s a little honey like you doing all on your lonesome?”
“Look, I thought I said I didn’t want any company.” Kat raised her voice as she began to slide from the booth. Just as she was on the point of standing up, the old guy grabbed her wrist.
“You sure got some nerve, honey. What makes you think you’re so special?”
He twisted her arm. She glared at the man. “Take your fucking hands off me, asshole.”
He laughed out loud, showing a whole mouthful of fillings. His breath smelt of stale beer and cigarettes. She guessed he’d had too much to drink, but that didn’t give him an excuse to be a complete dickhead. No doubt he had a wife at home, and he was just chancing his luck.
“Is this man bothering you?”
Kat looked up to see Colt Donahue standing by her table. His powerful physique seemed to tower over her. A tight pair of blue jeans clung to his hips, and his broad shoulders filled out a black T-shirt. The dark hair of his youth was now softly peppered with gray. His piercing blue eyes took in the situation.
The stranger didn’t seem the least intimidated. “Why don’t you butt out, fuck face, can’t you see the lady’s with me?”
Colt spoke in a clear, strong voice that commanded attention. “I was talking to the lady.”
Kat jabbed a finger. “This jerk won’t take no for an answer, Colt.”
Colt stared at the stranger, and she saw him visibly squirm. “You heard the lady. She said no. Why don’t you take a hike, buddy, you’re not welcome.”
“To hell with you.” The man threw her hand away in disgust and hurriedly left the table.
She looked up at her rescuer. “Thanks.”
“You should be more careful. This isn’t the kinda place for a lady to be on her own. These men are expecting a certain type of woman.”
“And you’d know all about that type, wouldn’t you, Colt.” She couldn’t quite keep the derisory tone from her voice. Colt ran a sex club. What sort of man was
he
? She took a deep breath. Surely this wasn’t the way to act. She needed to put her preconceived ideas aside. Whatever Colt did in his private club was his business and his alone. At least he’d got rid of the jerk who’d been bothering her. “Thanks for the advice, Colt, but I’m a big girl now. I can handle myself.”
“I’ve no doubt. Just words to the wise, Katrina. It’s up to you what you do with them.”
“Good, and by the way, call me Kat. Only people with an axe to grind call me Katrina.”
At that moment the waiter came with the two bottles of beer she’d ordered. He placed them in front of her.
“A woman drinking alone is just asking for trouble. You’ll get a lot of unwanted attention. You’ve already had a guy hitting on you. It’s clear to me you’ve had far too much to drink.”
In irritation Kat held her hands to her head. “Don’t lecture me, Colt. Not tonight. I just need to escape for a while.” She took a large swig of her Bud in defiance. Her voice rose an octave as she raised her gaze to his. “Okay?”
Colt firmed his mouth and shook his head. “Then I’ll have to stay here with you. I can see you’ll get into no end of trouble if you carry on like this.”
Before she could answer, he sat down at her table. He leaned forward and took her second bottle away. “I’ll look after this for you.”
“Hey,” she said as he raised it to his lips and began drinking. “Get your own, cowboy.”
“I have.” His eyes sparkled as he smiled at her, revealing the deep dimples that ran down to the corners of his mouth. Okay, so the guy was sexy, but she didn’t like what he did for a living. He continued, “So tell me what’s so bad that you’ve resorted to drink.”
Kat shook her head. “You wouldn’t want to know. Besides, you probably haven’t got the time. Shouldn’t you be running that sleazy club of yours, not frequenting this fine establishment.”
“Club Fusion is only open Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. Today is Sunday. Although, I doubt you know that, the state you’re in. As you seem so interested in what I do, I’ll have to give you a guided tour.”
“No way, Colt. Let’s get one thing straight. I’m never stepping foot inside your sleazy joint.”
“Fair enough.” He smiled and pointed to the six empty bottles accumulating on her table. “So tell me about your day. What’s made it this bad?”
* * * *
Colt relaxed back in his seat and stared at the woman he barely knew. On the outside she might have a hard edge, but experience told him that was just a façade. Kat had a vulnerability and beauty that sent all his senses into overdrive. Anyone else that hostile, he’d have left to fend for themselves. For some reason he’d yet to figure, he’d been compelled to stay and watch over her. It looked like she was heading for trouble, and he figured he’d have to make sure she got home safely.
He took a swig of his Bud and motioned with the bottle. “You were about to tell me why you’re drowning your sorrows.”
“Bad news I’m afraid.”
She finished her beer and put the empty bottle on the table. When she tried to gain the waiter’s attention by snapping her fingers, Colt took her hand in his. “I’ll get you one in a minute.”
Her fingers relaxed in his grasp, and it took her awhile to focus on him. When she did, her hazel eyes looked sad and unguarded. The woman looked defeated by life.
“Go on,” he urged, stroking the soft flesh of her palm with his thumb. It seemed to calm her.
“Momma left her entire estate to a cat charity. Can you fucking believe that?”
It certainly sounded a little harsh. He’d been left his father’s ranch when his parents had died in a car crash some three years ago. Not to be left anything would have felt like a kick in the teeth. Given the same circumstances, he guessed he’d have felt pretty pissed, too.
“Didn’t she leave you anything?”
She shook her head. “Not one cent.”
He continued, “Perhaps it’s because you didn’t keep in contact with your mother.”
Kat just stared at him. “I telephoned my mother all the time, Colt. I even had her visit on occasions. Now I’ve got until Friday to leave the house I grew up in.”
“That’s too bad, Kat.” He really felt sorry for her. “At least you don’t need her money. You’re a successful woman in your own right. That beautiful Jaguar you nearly ran me off the road with is proof of that.”
She shook her head and burst into what he could only describe as hysterical laughter. “That’s just smoke and mirrors.” Kat bit on her bottom lip and removed her hand from his grasp. On the verge of tears, she breathed in and said, “Look, Colt, thanks for the help, but I really should be going.” With that she stood and began moving away from him. Occasionally she clung onto a chair to steady herself. Just at the exit, she stopped, and he watched her fish a set of keys from her purse.
He shook his head and drained the last of his Bud. He’d seen her Jag outside. Now it looked as though he’d have to babysit her some more before she hurt herself.
Chapter Three
No sooner had Kat opened the driver’s door, than the keys were wrenched from her grasp.
“I’ll take those.”
An all too familiar deep voice assaulted her senses. Colt just couldn’t resist bugging her. She spun around and glared at him. “You again. Give those back. I need them.”
“Not a chance in hell,” he ground out.
In defiance she placed her hands on her hips. “Fuck you, cowboy, how am I supposed to get home without a car?”
Colt smiled benignly, a wicked twist to his lips. “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn, but something protective inside of me wants to stop you from getting into even more trouble.” He took a deep breath as he stared at her. “We’ll leave your car here, and I’ll drive you home.”
Kat had met his type before. Her whole life had been full of men like Colt Donahue. “Oh I see. You think that by driving me home, you’ll get me into bed. Well, I’ve come across your sort before, and it just ain’t gonna happen.” She’d had her fill of being used. At the age of thirty-four, she was wise to it.
“Let’s get one thing straight, lady. I don’t take advantage of women, especially ones that can’t hold their liquor. Besides, I prefer my sexual partners to be a little more, shall we say, submissive, and less confrontational.”
When her mother had first mentioned that Colt Donahue was running a sex club, she’d looked it up on the Internet. Club Fusion boasted pleasure pits, spanking rooms, dungeons, along with a nightclub that offered plenty of BDSM and public humiliation. It had certainly piqued her interest when she’d looked at photographs of the amenities. Racks, whips, and ropes hung in abundance from the walls. Now they held a fascination she wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge. What would it feel like to let go and put complete trust in someone else? Well, she’d learned over the years never to trust a man. They always let you down.