The Wrangler (The Yacht Club #2)

Chapter 4

Four

SJ

I can’t believe I told them I write BDSM. Where did that come from? The conversation with my uncle. And the discussion I overheard last night while they were having dinner. Some small part of me must have still been wondering about why Alex tied up my cousin. A fetish would explain it. That same small part of me doesn’t want this Alex to be that Alex. And if he is, there has to be a reason. My uncle doesn’t believe there’s a reasonable explanation. Maybe I should leave now. Go back to my apartment outside of Dallas and give up ever writing a book.

A firm knock at the door to my room startles me from my place at the window. It can’t be Alex. He practically ran out of the inn after it was decided we were going to a club. I open up to find Tyler standing on the other side ramrod straight, green eyes boring into me as if he can see all my sins. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. Has he figured out I’m a liar and about to ruin Alex’s life?

“If you want to go to the club, we have to give them your information for a background check.”

I step back in silent invitation. No way I’m doing this in the hallway. “You know I’m staying here under an alias.”

He nods and closes the door behind him, but doesn’t move into the room.

“If I give you my real name, how many people will it be shared with?” I’m wringing my hands, a total tell. I force them to still. Why the hell did my uncle register me under a fake name? Another layer of complication I don’t need.

“I spent my career as an FBI agent. I can keep your real identity a secret. Only our contact at the club will know and I’ll explain the sensitivity of the information.” How is this guy who looks like an aging—in a good way—surfer able to project such an air of authority?

I clear my throat. “Sarah Jane Reading. That’s R E A D I N G.”

“Driver’s license?”

Right. He’ll need all my info. I hesitate. If Alex has shared his past with Tyler—if he’s the Alex my uncle is searching for—my Texas ID could give it all away.

“I’ll call from the office phone and bring it right back.”

My uncle’s voice echoes through my head, “I think you might owe me, don’t you?” But really, if I do this, it’s for my cousin who I love. I dig out the card proving my real identity from a zippered pocket in my bag. I hesitate as I’m about to hand it over. Tyler’s eyes have softened and he holds out an open palm. I take a shaky breath and place the card in his hand. “Guard this with your life.”

“Did Amy tell you that she used to be in witness protection? Probably not. I was her handler and kept all her secrets. Trained her to keep them too. You can trust me.”

Sweet, innkeeper Amy was in WitSec? I bet that’s a story.

“I’ll bring it right back.” He’s gone before I can undo my decision.

I close my eyes and pray this doesn’t bite me in the ass. Then it hits me. I’m going to a BDSM club and I don’t know the first thing about them. I’m supposed to be the expert writing about them. I grab my phone and start searching for books. The Bonds of Love by Cecilia Tan. Looks good. I add it to my e-library and keep searching. Marie Tuhart. Raisa Greywood. After adding more books than I can possibly read, I search for the club.

Pandora has a quirky welcoming website nothing that screams black-leather, ass-beating scary bastards.

I roll my eyes at myself. Clearly, I have some preconceived notions I need to get over. The site lists educational webinars, potluck lunches, and movie night. I half expect them to have daycare hours for the kids. Maybe they do—I giggle—for the littles. Even I’ve read a Pepper North book. I close the browser on my phone—enough playing on the internet.

If this Alex is who my uncle is looking for, I’m going to pull off getting him to confess what he did or possibly replicate it with me—a shiver shoots up my spine—I’ll have to get real comfortable real quick with being tied up and losing all control. My throat tightens and I gasp for breath. No matter what, if he tries to force his dick in my mouth, I’ll bite it off. No matter how attractive he is, that’s one thing I just can’t… I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.

I shake off the hideous memories bubbling up. Breathe .

One thing at a time. Breathe .

First I have some reading to do. Breathe .

Tyler returns my ID just as I’m ready to settle into my first book. “All set.”

First hurdle cleared.

Two days later I’ve read several books, rubbed out several orgasms, and I’m hopelessly intrigued. All the stories focus heavily on consent, on the emotional connection, the mental state changes that the partners experience in a scene. Not that I’m comfortable being tied up by someone I don’t know, but I can’t deny how sexy the power dynamics are and I’m curious. Especially since I told everyone I’m writing a BDSM romance.

Eliot’s van is huge and has an electric lift at the back for a wheelchair. Not sure what that’s for but I don’t ask. A short way into the long drive to Colorado Springs, Stone, in the front passenger seat, asks Eliot what’s going on with Blake’s recovery. I lean forward from the last row. Amy’s beside Tyler in the second row, and Alex is leaning as far away from me as he can despite the fact we’re sharing the bench seat.

Eliot doesn’t take his eyes from the road or lift a finger from the steering wheel. “Physically. He making good progress. Graci found a reflexologist couple in Albuquerque who have worked with stroke victims, paraplegics, and even quads. They’ve been advising her on Zoom and they agreed to come up for a weekend intensive and work with her on techniques.”

“That’s good news.” Stone’s deep voice resonates with hope.

“Graci said she’s seen Blake move his other foot when she’s working on him.”

“What does Blake say?” Alex asks.

Eliot shrugs. “Ask him when you see him.”

A heavy emotional fog coats the interior of the van weighing down any further conversation for miles. I try to piece together what I know of Eliot and what I’ve heard of Blake, but I don’t have enough to form the barest sketch. And it’s clear this is not a topic that invites the questions of strangers. Alex is avoiding looking at me much less speaking. I pull up one of my research books on my phone and try to mentally prepare for my club visit. The characters in the story are discussing the “scene” they will share. The safe words, the limits.

Hours later we hit traffic and I assume we’re either close to or in Colorado Springs. Eliot’s phone rings a number over the vehicle speakers.

“Hey El.”

“Cade,” Eliot responds to the man who answered. “We’re just getting into town. Where are you?”

“PT.” This Cade person sounds defeated and my heart aches for him even though I don’t know him.

“How much longer?”

“Just got here, so couple hours.”

“We’ll head there first.”

The call ends without further discussion or even goodbyes. No one says a word. The mood is so heavy, it doesn’t feel right to keep reading sexy stories. I’m not sure I should be going wherever the van is headed, but I can’t demand they drop me off. If I’d known they weren’t just going to the club, I wouldn’t have gotten in the van so easily. I dread what might come next.

Eliot parks the van in front of what looks like the main clubhouse for luxury apartments. His hands are still wrapped around the steering wheel. He puts his head down for a moment and sighs like he’s praying for strength. Whatever is in that building is a tragic story I’m not ready to hear.

Everyone piles out with a few groans and some impromptu stretching. Alex moves as if he was merely on the couch for and episode of his favorite show. No moans, no stretching. The third row was fine, but even I drop forward and slowly roll out my spine once I’m outside. When I’m upright again, he has his back to me. “Coming or what?”

“I can stay with the van.” I don’t belong in the middle of whatever is happening here.

Amy comes up and hooks my elbow. “It’s too hot out here. Come inside.”

An elderly woman with a wash and set hairdo, lifts her chin when the sliding glass doors open. A warm smile brightens her face and she stands to come out from behind the curved faux-wood reception desk. She opens her arms wide. “Eliot.”

He bends in half to return the hug wrapping the small woman in his bare, dark arms. His blue short-sleeved shirt stretches across his back. “Miss Angie.”

Oh gosh. We’re at the reception desk and already I’m having all kinds of gooey emotions.

Eliot stands to full height, his hands in Angie’s. “How’s he doing?”

Everyone else is signing in to what looks like a guest book on the top of the reception desk. Amy hands me the pen. “They have to log visitors for insurance or something.”

I sign in as SJ and a scribble for my last name. And then I’m moving with the group down a large wallpaper and bead board hallway. Every so often two chairs flank a small end table. Framed artwork dots the length of the walls and a glass cabinet holds flyers and a calendar of events. We pass a huge dining room set with round wood tables for four with small vases of daisies. The decor is warm, upscale lodge or resort. But there is evidence of the institutional nature of the place in the tiny details, of wheels on the chairs and tables, and the people in white scrubs who are cleaning up after the mid-day meal. Subtle tells giveaway the real purpose of this place.

Eliot leads us onto an elevator big enough to hold a hospital bed or two. We drop one floor to a basement level. The doors open to a space that’s more clinical, less art and furniture, but still inviting with warm paint and wood accents. After a few twists and turns, we arrive at another set of glass doors. They part, and the sounds of what I assume is a gym waft out. Grunts. Coaches encouraging. But once past the partition, I see this isn’t an ordinary gym. It’s a physical therapy space based on the mats on the floor, the parallel bars for assisted walking, the walls of equipment, and the wheelchairs both with and without occupants. There are only four clusters of people in the cavernous space.

Eliot is moving full-speed to where a beautiful blonde man is laying on a mat while a woman with long, dark hair pulled into a ponytail is stretching his pitifully thin scarred leg. Two other men stand by, their features etched with concern. Eliot’s back is to us and I can’t hear what he says, but the woman stands and gives him a warm hug that lasts longer than I would expect for a professional relationship. The olive-skinned man with short dark hair is moving toward us. Tyler meets him a few feet before he reaches us. “Pierce. How’s he doing?”

Pierce scrubs his hair back. “Hard to say. His upper body is strong, but there’s still not much from the waist down. Although, he’s off the catheter as of a couple days ago.”

“That’s huge.” Tyler looks back to Amy and tugs her forward into his embrace like he needs to hold someone.

Pierce grimaces. “Tell that to Blake.”

Alex ignores our gathering, going to Blake. He drops to the mat on his knees and puts a hand on Blake’s shoulder. “Hey, buddy. Looking good.”

“You talking to me or Graci?”

Alex grins. “Good to see you again, Graci. When am I busting my friend here outta this place?”

Graci, the physical therapist, shifts to Blake’s other leg. “That’s up to this guy.” She smiles at Blake and shifts his leg back a bit farther. Blake groans. “He’s kind of grumpy about my workouts.”

“She’s trying to kill me.”

“Dude. You’re complaining about a beautiful woman at your feet, massaging your legs?” Alex nudges Graci’s shoulder with his. “Where can I sign up for this kind of abuse.”

“Sure, she looks nice now. In about two hours she’s gonna make sure I’m crying.” Blake scowls at the woman. “My favorite part is when she tells me to walk.”

The other man standing watch, younger, with big soft brown eyes, his arms crossed, chirps, “That’s because you will walk again.”

“Cade,” Blake says with an exasperated tone. He shifts his attention to Eliot. “So what are you doing here? Going to the club.”

Eliot nods. “That’s the plan.”

“Good, take this one with you. He’s driving me nuts.” Blake hitches his thumb in Cade’s direction. “Get him laid.”

Cade barks out a pained sound of protest. Eliot is flicking his gaze between them.

“I’m not going to a club without you.” Cade crosses his arms and looks like he’s about to cry.

“I don’t need a goddamned keeper. Go to the fucking club, Cade.” Blake closes his eyes and his hand ball into fists.

Graci adjusts Blake’s leg, deepening the stretch. “I’ll be around tonight. There’s an Almost Human marathon starting this afternoon. They’re showing them in the correct chronological order. Will you be my geek TV buddy?”

“I don’t need a pity party,” Blake answers.

“Hey, now you’re in for it. We’re walking for sure today.” Her voice has a bit of an edge and an accent.

“Are you ever going to let anyone in again?” Cade demands.

Alex rises and puts his arm around Cade. “Hey, how about we take a break? Get a cold drink. Graci isn’t going to let him run away.”

Cade lets Alex lead him away. Graci’s gaze follows them long enough for me to see the longing in her gaze. For Alex? Or Cade? She returns her focus to Blake before I can decide.

I don’t know the whole story, but the tension that filled this huge space releases. Alex has his head close to Cade’s. What could he possibly be telling the man who is clearly distraught by Blake’s situation? More than Pierce. Even more than Eliot who stands beside him, but has his hands in his pockets, a relaxed stance, taking in the work happening. “Graci, you just want to see your show on the big TV we put in Blake’s room.”

“Of course that’s it, Eliot. Not this guy’s super friendly personality.” She sticks her tongue out at Blake and keeps working.

“Heard you had some movement during reflexology.” Stone glares down at Blake.

Blake shifts his gaze away, not answering. From what I’ve seen, he’s the only one who defies Stone.

“I’ve been working his feet everyday. Did a Zoom session with the pros. They’re trying to figure out their schedule to come up in person.”

“Bunch of woo woo bullshit.” Blake directs his spite at Graci who doesn’t react at all.

“Did your foot move or not?” Stone’s a judge demanding the truth.

“Yes.” Blake barely lets the word out, resenting the forced admission.

If I were him, I’d be doing whatever I could to get movement back. Woo woo or not. Graci’s a saint to put up with his grumpy ass. Or well paid.

Amy, Tyler, and Stone shift closer to each other and start a murmured conversation. I back away from what is clearly a family moment. In the hallway, I spy Alex holding a sobbing Cade. He’s rubbing the man’s back and telling his things will get better. Each change so far has been an improvement. That Cade has to be patient with Blake. My heart squeezes at all the love and support Blake and even Cade has. In all the stories There’s no way this can be the Alex my uncle is looking for is there? I escape to the women’s restroom and try to reconcile the image of an abuser with the caring version of Alex.

There is something so compelling about a man who will hold another man, care for him emotionally. Especially when the man is a strapping cowboy who works construction. He’s the poster child for an unenlightened cave man, but he’s deep. And my hormones are lit up with my attraction to this side of him. Like he isn’t attractive enough, he has to show this sensitive side?

I really don’t want him to be Alex Craig, the man who hurt my cousin.

I’m washing my hands when Amy enters the restroom. “There you are.”

I smile into the mirror at her and try to come up with an excuse for making myself scarce.

“It can be a lot. It’s actually easier now that he isn’t confined to the hospital bed hooked to all kinds of wires.”

I shudder at the image. “What happened to him?”

“Short version. Car accident. He nearly didn’t make it.”

“He looks good for having almost died.”

“Getting better every day. But it’s hard on his partners.”

I nod as if I understand. Partners is a loaded word, one Amy used intentionally. One that sort of explains some of the tension between Blake and Cade.

“Anyway, if you’re done, we’re going to book some hotel rooms now that we have a plan. Eliot’s coming to the club, but he’s staying with Cade at the rental house here in town. We need to get a room count.”

I follow Amy out the door to find all the guys in the hallway.

Stone is speaking to Pierce. “If you’re willing to ride share with Eliot back to the house, I can drive everyone else in the van. We need a room for me, one for Amy and Tyler?—”

“I can share,” I say “No big deal if we get a room with two beds.”

Alex crosses his arms. “I’ll pay for two rooms.”

Ouch. Didn’t expect immediate rejection. I said two beds. Does he think I’m going to jump him? Well, that’s not completely out of bounds. The urge to climb him like a tree and talk about what to do with his wood had been riding me since I saw him. But it’s not like I could take advantage of him. Except, he might try something with me if he is who my uncle says he is. No. No way. Not possible.

Stone finishes as if we haven’t spoken. “Four rooms. I’ll check with the hotel we used last time.”

My uncle’s been looking for this Craig dude for ten years. No reason to think he’s found him now.