Property Of (10 page)

Disappointed by the selection, and not seeing a catfish in the bunch, I scrolled back up to the first message and checked out the man’s profile picture. Thomas Sheldon was extremely good-looking, with light brown hair and green eyes. He reminded me a bit of Dallas, though he didn’t have that dark hero look to him. It was rugged yet more refined, more GQ if you will, than the jeans wearing detective.

“Married and a jerk, Nicola, so move on,” I reminded myself.

With nothing but a night of reading ahead of me, I figured I’d come this far already in breaking my oath to the girls, I might as well correspond with the man.

One hour later, after exceptional discourse, I hesitantly agreed to meet him Monday at seven for a drink to discuss my book further.

Picking up my Kindle after signing off my computer, I’d at least listened to Kristina’s advice about reading a BDSM novel in place of corresponding with a man like Dark Prince. Powering up my kindle, I opened Katherine Rhodes’
Consensual
and picked up where I left off before logging on to POF.

“A good Dom will help their sub learn what they need to know so both of them can derive pleasure from the act. As I said, it can be as simple as some sensory play or it can get as deep as master-slave play. It could be a blindfold and hot lingerie or it could be forced chastity and cock and ball torture.”

Nathaniel's eyes grew wide. “Cock and ball torture?”

“Those in the lifestyle would ask you not to judge, Mister Walsh,” she said, a bright smile shining in her eyes. “There is a tenet in the lifestyle which everyone should adopt in life: always safe, always sane. Always be in possession of all of your faculties when you engage in play. Do not start a paddling session if you are angry. It changes from sex to revenge, then, and the pleasure is tainted forever. It will always be in the back of both of your minds—pleasure or true pain. And as such, if you are both safe and sane, there is almost nothing off limits.”

“What the fuck is cock and ball torture?” Bo shouted in outrage from behind the couch, causing me to jump out of my skin. Finn appeared in front of me and grabbed my Kindle, ruining what had been a quiet evening with a cup of coffee and a book.

“Hey, give me that back, you miscreant,” I shouted. Snape went flying to the floor when I stood up and glared at Finn.

“Miscreant? Jesus, Nic, you need to get out more. Repeat after me: asshole, douche bag, or rat bastard are acceptable terms in the twenty-first century,” Finn chuckled.

“Finn, I mean this with all the love a sister can have for a brother when I say: please give me my Kindle, then get out and don’t come back for a year.”

Of course, he ignored me and started reading my book instead.

“Why are you here?” I asked Bo as Finn chuckled.

“
We’ve
come to the conclusion you’re a hermit and need a night out on the town with us.”

“I’m not a hermit, Bo, and my idea of fun is not hanging around strip clubs while you attempt to make it “rain” when you can only afford to “drizzle.”

“Jesus, Nic, we were kids when we took you there.”

“Bo, that was last year,” I pointed out.

“And your point is?” he grinned.

“Out,” I shouted, grabbing my Kindle from Finn. “I was having a lovely evening with my book.”

Finn looked at Bo and shook his head in brotherly “Nicola’s nuts,” fashion before he leaned down, put his shoulder to my waist, and pitched me up and over. I was used to this maneuver so I didn’t fuss. Whenever they wanted me some place else they hauled me with them against my will. It was futile to throw a fit; they would only laugh and ignore me.

“Promise me no strip clubs . . . unless it’s male strippers,” I decreed. I wouldn’t be opposed to bare-chested men, but the look of “in your dreams” Bo gave me as he walked behind Finn said it was a no-go.

“We have something better in mind. All you can eat pizza and bumper cars.”

“Incredible Pizza?” I blurted out in excitement.

Finn put me down and grinned at my excitement. I loved Incredible Pizza. It’s the only place in town you could overdose on pizza, and then play laser tag, bumper cars, and putt-putt golf.

“You know it’s sad, Nic, that a kiddy arcade makes you this happy,” Bo exclaimed with a sigh as we headed out my door.

“You only say that because I kicked your ass at putt-putt on the last trip. Do you want a chance to redeem yourself or are you a chicken?” I goaded him with a chicken dance as he stared blank-faced at me.

“Double or nothing,” he growled as we climbed into Finn’s truck.

He was so going down.

“Like taking candy from a baby,” I bragged as we pulled out for a night of family fun.

Too bad, it was short-lived.

***

Incredible Pizza was really just a Chuck E. Cheese on steroids. It was geared toward older kids, but they took into consideration that parents would be hauled along for the ride, therefore they had bumper cars, a racetrack, bowling alley, and laser tag to keep everyone entertained.

The place was hopping with folks of all ages since it was Saturday night and a favorite place for families to spend time or have a birthday party for their kids in one of their private rooms. These private rooms were where my night went from family fun to all-out war with my brothers and a certain detective.

You see, there’s a shortcut of sorts that runs along the wall of the private rooms from the theater area to the food court. That’s where I’d cut through to get more pizza for my bottomless pit brothers. When I rounded a corner, once again with my head down, my mind on putt-putt and laser tag, I slammed into, yet again, a certain married detective.

It had to be said that the fates weren’t on my side. This made four—count them, four times—that I’d been responsible for covering the man with liquid. However, this time around there was a healthy dose of pizza and salad mixed in. And to make matters worse, Bo and his big mouth came up the rear after the collision laughing before I could apologize.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” Dallas Vaughn growled as pepperoni fell from his shirt.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry I—”

“Hey, you wanna watch your fuckin’ mouth?” Bo barked out in brotherly defense.

Oh, brother, here we go.

For some reason neither of my brother thought I could take care of myself.

“Bo, telling someone to watch their mouth while swearing doesn’t give the desired effect,” I pointed out.

“Nicola, who gives a—”

I threw my hand over his mouth to stop his remark, and he glared at me, but held his tongue, thank God. I turned back to Detective Vaughn, hoping to smooth things over, and found the same brown-haired beauty from the picture standing next to him, smiling as she picked cheese from his shirt.

I’ll admit now it was a bit of a punch to the gut to see them together after almost a week of fantasizing about the man. Then I remembered he was a pig who winked and felt sorry for his wife.

“I’m so sorry I made a mess for you again,” I blurted out to his wife. She turned toward me smiling then did a double take. “You’re Grace Martin,” she blurted out.

“She’s Nicola Royse,” Dallas bit out, “and a walking, talking disaster,” he continued as he pushed past us and headed toward (for the fourth time this week) the men’s room.

“Dallas,” she scolded sharply as he glared back at me.

“I am
so
not a walking, talking disaster,” I grumbled at his retreating backside.

“You kinda are,” Bo laughed.

“I thought your name was Grace Martin?” his wife continued.

“Technically, I’m Nicola Royse. But I’ll answer to Grace Martin since that’s my pen name.”

“Well, either way it’s nice to meet you; I’ve read all your books. And please ignore my brother; he’s a little hotheaded at times.”

“Your brother?” I choked out, feeling my cheeks heat instantly with embarrassment.
Hell’s bells, I’m an idiot
. I just ruined four of his shirts
and
any chance I may have had with the man.

“Unfortunately, but I claim him most days,” she smiled.

I nodded, since I understood her sentiment, but I was mostly stunned. I’d thought the worst about the man and decided he’d deserved all the coffee I’d spilled on him. But he wasn’t married to her, she was his sister . . . unless.

“He’s not married?” I blurted out, determined to know for sure.

“Who, Dallas?”

“Um, yeah, your brother,” I asked, looking back over my shoulder.

“No, probably for good reason too, I’m not sure any woman can handle him. He’s kind of a caveman and grunts a lot. He’s the kind of man only a sister can love, you know what I mean?” she laughed.

“Uh, yeah, I understand that feeling more than you know,” I chuckled, ”Bo here is one-half of my twin brothers and they drive me to the brink most days, while eating me out of house and home.”

“How do you know my brother?” she asked.

“I don’t, well, not really. I’ve run into him a few times this week with, uh, my coffee to be accurate,” I grimaced.

“That was you?” she laughed.

“Guilty.”

We both giggled in female camaraderie as Finn walked up laughing.

“What’s so funny?” I questioned.

“You’ve been busy,” he answered oddly.

“Busy doing what?”

“Pissing off cops.”

“What? How did you—”

“Get this, bro,” Finn chuckled as he turned to Bo. “I walked into the men’s room and there was this pissed off guy trying to clean off his shirt. When I chuckled to myself at the mess, he looked up and glared at me. Then he said he had arrested murderers who were less trouble than my ‘woman’. Jesus, Nic,” he grinned at me, “you’re gone, what, five minutes tops, and you piss off the only cop in the place. That’s gotta be some kind of record.”

“I am
not
a walking, talking disaster,” I grumbled again as I rolled my eyes.

“You kinda are,” Finn laughed.

“Whatever,” I snapped then turned to Dallas’ sister, “It was very nice to meet you, but it’s time for putt-putt and ass whooping.

“I’m Erin Johnson, by the way, and it was a pleasure to meet you, too. I need to get back to my son’s birthday party as well, but a word of advice before I leave, if you don’t mind. His bark is worse than his bite if you’re interested,” she told me with the identical wink as Dallas.

Not about to admit I was more than interested, but knew without a doubt that ship had sailed, I waited until she left before I headed toward the arcade instead of the food area. I was in emotional upheaval right now and needed to hit something. I couldn’t believe I’d spilled food and drink all over Dallas Vaughn again. Not to mention, I was still reeling from finding out he wasn’t married. It figures that I’d send the first guy I’m attracted to in years running and screaming for the hills.

“I’m tired of waiting, Bo, let’s get this grudge match over with,” I threw over my shoulder as both twins followed me, still laughing at my expense.

Thirty minutes later and another victory in hand, we exited the putt-putt arena and headed toward the bumper cars. In line about ten people ahead of us was Dallas and whom I assumed now were his nephew and niece. He watched us walk up with a somewhat confused expression, looking back and forth between the three of us. Then Bo mumbled, “I think the light bulb just went off.”

“What light bulb? What are you talking about?” I asked.

“The cop. He just figured out we're your brothers, not your boyfriend.”

“Yep, two plus two just made Nicola single. Too bad for him we don’t like him,” Finn joined in.

“Why don’t you like him?” I blurted out as I watched Dallas turn from rigid to relaxed in the course of a heartbeat.

“He’s got a look,” Bo grumbled.

“Oh, for God’s sake, what kind of look?” I demanded as Dallas started to grin.

“That look.”

“What look?” I fairly shouted.

“A look that says I’ll be coming by your house without calling first for a sneak attack,” Bo explained.

“He doesn’t.”

“He does.”

“He hates me.”

“He wants you.”

“I spilled coffee on him.”

“He wants—”

“Three times, well, technically two, but my ass in the air caused the third, and if you count the pizza and pop, that makes four times in five days,” I rushed out.

Bo and Finn looked at each other with their brows raised in disbelief. Then, in some silent twin communication, they nodded, grinned slowly, and then replied in unison, “Tag team.”

"Oh, dear Lord . . ."

Picture it . . .

Round one went to the young knights as they cornered their prey with the bumper cars. It wasn’t really a fair fight since they boxed him in and slammed him into the wall any time he tried to move. The handsome warlord said nothing during this. He just clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes at the fair-haired maiden, of all people. Then the knights took their battle to the newly installed “Rock and Joust,” an inflatable gladiator ring with a free-floating, rocking pedestal where opponents attempted to knock each other off. It was ugly—for the knights, that is—for the dark and dangerous warlord was a trained professional in the art of all things brawny, and barely flinched when each knight tried to dethrone him. Down one would go, and then the warlord would turn toward the other and motion him forward with the crook of his finger. While all this was happening, the fair-haired maiden watched in silent appreciation all of the dark and dangerous heroes’ manly skills . . . and tight ass.

Once the knights had been defeated in the jousting competition, they threw down another gauntlet in the form of laser tag. Aye, that’s right, the stupid knights wanted to test their aim in a dark space against a man who carried a gun for a living. The warlord grinned at their foolishness and shook his head at this challenge. For he knew too well the arrogance of the young knights and that their abilities in the course of battle would pale in comparison to his own.

The fair-haired maiden was dragged kicking and screaming into this fight, then strapped into a harness with glowing lights as a laser gun was shoved into her hands. The knights instructed her to, “Aim to kill,” and then off they all jogged into the black lights of a laser tag maze. Then the massacre commenced. There was grunting and shoving, and the occasional, “The guy’s like a ghost,” as the warlord’s points kept adding up. When the smoke had cleared on the knight’s challenge, and the scores were tallied, it was clear that the warlord had killed the young knights ten times over.