Embracing Fate: A Captive Hearts Novel Page 8

  I raced toward a future no one would want. Instead of encouraging me to be a better man, Jake wanted me to descend back into the world that destroyed me. It made no sense and made me wonder about his state of mind.

  But I would do it. I would do it because he asked it of me.

  I flexed my fingers and pegged the throttle, enjoying the rush as the bike took off. I drew in a determined breath, rolled my shoulders, and gripped the bike with my legs. I wove in between what little traffic impeded my all-out flight.

  I had a destination in mind and couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if I simply kept heading off into the sunset.

  For the past decade, I had breathed nothing but stale prison air, saturated in the depravity of my peers. My brief stint of freedom between the jail in Thailand and that in Georgia had festered with the evil of the bastard who called himself my father. I’d had but a few months of freedom before finding myself behind concrete walls and iron grated windows.

  The rumble of the bike set up a resonance deep within my chest. I would be free.

  Certain behaviors would be expected of an ex-con who came from a wealthy family: arrogance, sophistication, and freedom with money. A generic strip club would not fit the bill. Neither would jeans and a T-shirt.

  While Chambers and his men worked on the tux, I went on a shopping spree which gave my newly acquired plastic a workout. If anyone had eyes on me, and I had every reason to think this was the case, they would see a lack of restraint as I blew through tens of thousands in a single afternoon. Once I had a Rolex secured around my wrist, I took Jake’s Harley out into the country.

  My thoughts turned to Kate’s plan and the auction where I would be a star performer. Having my actions manipulated by others didn’t sit well with me.

  The problem with Kate was in how her mind worked. She believed in good triumphing over evil. Her entire life had been to protect and serve, following her father’s footsteps as she earned her badge. Even after her fall from grace, she continued to dedicate her life to putting people like me behind bars.

  Any idiot would draw the connection between us. I needed to turn that to my advantage and to do that, I needed help.

  For two hours, the Harley growled between my legs. My destination was an exclusive residence, a den of sensual delights, and perfect for what I needed. I headed off the highway and down a gravel drive.

  The Harley bucked beneath me, and I slowed to admire the rolling hills. Around the corner, a manor rose out of a grassy field. Constructed entirely of stone, it stood five stories as it reached for the sky. This wasn’t the residence of one man, although Thomas called it his home. It was instead a private playground for those who took power exchange to the extreme.

  Massive arched windows lined the bottom floor, and among the eaves, angels and demons stared down with judgmental eyes. Nearly a dozen chimneys dotted the roofline and copper lined the steeply pitched slate roof. This had been a place designed to impress the wealthy.

  The Edge had always rendered me speechless, but I never had the opportunity, like my brother, to become a fully-fledged member. We’d been exposed to this place through our father in our youth. Jake and Kevin went on to fulfill their rightful place as members, while I rotted in a cell.

  I pulled around the circular drive. As it was the middle of the week, there were no parked cars. Come Friday night, that would change as expensive cars filled the lawn. Masters would bring their slaves for a weekend of sex, dominance, and seduction with no apologies for the lifestyle they embraced.

  I pulled up beside the stone staircase and pulled off my helmet. News of my arrival preceded me, a benefit of countless security cameras surveying the estate, but no one waited by the door to welcome me, or bar my entrance.

  Awnings covered the glass windows and gargoyles peered down at their newest intruder. Without any concern about how I might be received, I walked confidently between the crouching lions on either side of the monstrous stairs and pushed on the door.

  It opened on silent hinges, welcoming me into a massive entry. A double set of stairs curled down from the second-floor landing, causing me to pause if only to admire the whole effect. I turned left and headed to the library, not bothering to knock.

  The man behind the desk looked up. “I see your manners have not improved.” Thomas sat behind a massive mahogany Partners Desk, stacks of papers littered the inlaid leather top, and he had his booted feet propped on the corner.

  A gruff, wiry man in his sixties, the gray whiskers of his beard twitched with displeasure. His salt-and-pepper hair had more salt than pepper in it, but it had been five years since I’d seen him last.

  I don’t think I’d ever seen his hair loose. He kept it tied at the nape of his neck with a strip of leather.

  “Yeah, I missed out on charm school.”

  “You missed out on a lot of shit.”

  Thomas came out from behind his desk. He gestured to a pair of wing-backed chairs sitting in front of an ornate fireplace. He wore black leather chaps over his jeans and a matching leather vest. A Harley man, he enjoyed his bikes with nearly the same enthusiasm he showed his horses and his slaves.

  He held out his hand, and I took it, completing the ritual greeting. His hawkish gaze took me in, a slow, purposeful assessment which I seemed to pass.

  “I’m surprised to see you,” he said.

  “I doubt it.” I wasn’t willing to waste time on meaningless small talk. “You know why I’m here.”

  Thomas leaned back. “Perhaps you think too much of my abilities. I presume this is not a social call, and from your attitude you’re not here to ask my forgiveness like you have with Jake and Kevin.”

  “They found me. I had no intention of seeing either of them again.”

  “Your brothers aren’t ready to give up on you.” Thomas understood the unique bond the three of us shared—or had shared.

  “Not interested in a life chat, Thomas.”

  He tapped his fingers on the chair. “You get more with honey than a stick. You should invest in the subtleties of small talk. It’s amazing the information you can glean from casual conversation.”

  “I don’t have time for that shit.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Do you or do you not know about this crackpot plan Kate has for me?”

  His lips pressed together. I may not care for small talk, but I was an expert at reading body language. It was a skill which kept me alive. I pointed at him, not caring about what that said about my manners. “You see? That’s the problem.”

  His fingers continued their slow drumming.

  “It’s a shit plan.” I pressed my palms to my thighs.

  “And?”

  “Too many people are involved.”

  “What do you want from me?” Thomas leveled his hawkish gaze on me.

  “All I want from you is for you to tell Jake I came here first.”

  His brows drew together. “I don’t get it.”

  “You don’t need to. When Jake comes, and he will, all you need to say is that I came to you.”

  “What do you need?”

  “Nothing.” I didn’t need a goddamn thing from any of them.

  I left The Edge with gravel spitting out from the back tire and my mind spinning. I didn’t like being an owned man and I wasn’t about to start following other people’s orders.

  Chapter 9

  In an epic dick move, I kept Jake’s bike and checked into the most expensive hotel in town, taking over their penthouse suite. The men’s clubs I frequented opened their doors, and I kept the champagne flowing.

  I let the money rain.

  Prostitutes were beneath me, but I hired escorts to follow me around, making certain I always had a minimum of three with me at all times. Keeping with what people expected, I treated the girls like shit. Not that they cared. With the money I paid them, they did anything I pleased, and I made them work for their money.

  Sleeping with them didn’t appeal to me, but I had to con
cede to some things. While I orchestrated how I wanted the girls to go down on each other, I broke five years of celibacy with ruby red lips wrapped around my dick.

  I found it distasteful and had to swallow the bile rising in my throat as my release built. I didn’t want to pay for something like this, and I certainly would never force a woman against her will ever again, but damn if I didn’t love the power behind the control.

  Which I found funny as shit…considering.

  I kept a leather crop beside me at all times, using it with aggression and fury on the girls. I never allowed myself to be seen with the same girls twice, and I didn’t allow a single man to join me.

  Unapproachable and reclusive, I drank whiskey and champagne, watched the girls fuck each other, and kept their asses striped cherry red with my crop. Nobody said a word to me. They couldn’t. I paid well for the privilege to do as I damn well pleased.

  Jake’s calls went unanswered. I had security escort Kate out of the hotel lobby and made sure they made as big a scene as possible.

  Friday night spilled into Saturday morning as I sat at the exclusive PW Men’s Club. PW was short for pussy whisperer, and I made good on that name with the girls I paid to be seen with me. Word was getting around.

  In the back of the club, I sat with four girls in a large booth meant to hold eight. Always with an eye on the exits, I sat at the left end of the booth while the girl lying on the table moaned. She had her legs wrapped around the head of the girl at the opposite end of the table who was eating her out. The other two girls played with her nipples, but their eyes weren’t on the girl. They looked to me to see if I was pleased.

  Frankly, I was bored to tears.

  I’d been making a show all week, but so far, no one had taken the bait. Time was running out because the auction would happen tomorrow night. Technically, since it was past midnight, that made it tonight. I flicked the crop over the girl’s tits on the table. Her little shriek did nothing to make my dick twitch.

  I was as flaccid as they came.

  The girl between her legs slurped and sucked. I didn’t know if the girls actually got off on what I made them do, or pretended. Frankly, I didn’t care. With dawn only a couple of hours away, I debated ending this boring evening and considered trying to catch a few hours of sleep before the night’s main event.

  That’s when I saw him and the five men I wasn’t supposed to notice.

  A large man with a smooth head and crisp black goatee made his way through the layers of security I put in place. He yanked on the arm of the girl eating pussy and dragged her out of the booth. Then, with a snap of his fingers he ordered the other two girls out. They scooted quickly out of the booth while the guy kicked the girl off the table. She rolled off, miraculously managing to land on her feet and scuttled after the other girls.

  Keeping my expression neutral, I didn’t react to the bold move. That’s what he wanted; a reaction which would tip the balance of power in his direction. That wasn’t going to happen. This was a game I’d played far too many times, and I could already tell I was better at it than him. My stony expression had his lip twitching as he slid into the booth across from me.

  My eyes shifted to the right, in the direction the girls fled. “I’m paying ten grand an hour for that.” I casually glanced at my watch. “You’re paying for every minute they’re not entertaining me.”

  He snickered. “You obviously don’t know who I am.”

  Except I did. While I cut Jake and the others out of my life, there was one who I kept abreast of my plans. Chambers gave me all the information I needed about the auction.

  “I know exactly who you are, but you obviously don’t know me.”

  “I know everything about you. Joshua Davenport, son of Jack Davenport. Ex-con who thinks he’s a playboy rather than a piece of trash.”

  “Like I said, you know nothing about me.”

  He pressed his chubby finger on the table. “I think that about sums it up.”

  “You forgot one important piece of information.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You forgot to tell me thank you for saving your sorry ass, and seeing how I’ll be owning that ass in a couple months, I’d say you’re off to a rough start.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. You owe me.” I glanced at the girls huddling by the bar and took another look at my watch. “And it’s five hundred and counting.”

  “I ain’t paying you shit.”

  “Yes, you are. And I’ll be taking interest if you don’t settle tonight. I was enjoying watching the girls.”

  He sneered. “That’s what I’ve heard. You’re a watcher. What is it? After all those years surrounded by men, you have problems getting your willy to work?”

  I cocked my head and borrowed Thomas’s line. “Your manners need some work. My willy works just fine, but paying for sex isn’t my gig.”

  “Prison got to you, didn’t it? You fancy the boys now?”

  He pushed my buttons, or tried. There was nothing this cretin could say to get a rise out of me. I’d heard everything he had to say, and more, a thousand times over.

  With my voice low, I modulated my tone. “I prefer taking what I want. Paying someone to pretend doesn’t do it for me, and as for fancying the boys? Men who have said that to me are now missing pieces of their anatomy. You can tell your boss to fuck off, and I’m now charging double.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Sorry, but I don’t fuck men.”

  “Looks like you don’t fuck women either,” he said with a sneer.

  “Like I said, I find it tedious when money can buy me anything. But since you know my story, you know what gets me hard. Since I just got out of prison, I’m not inclined to find my way back in so quickly. I don’t need something public or messy.”

  I lifted my tumbler of whiskey and lifted it to one of the men standing by the bar. He was the one in charge, not this poser.

  “Now, if you want to stop wasting my time, why don’t you invite your boss to share a drink with me. I’ll tell him all about how he’s been fucked. He’s going to want to hear what I have to offer.”

  “You’re a dead man.”

  “You will be if you don’t invite him over. I’m growing bored and that’s never a good thing. Do you know how I spent my time in prison?”

  The guy’s face paled. It was more bluff than anything else, but I’d been known to extract malicious revenge on those who tried to make my life difficult. Like I’ve said a thousand times, Americans don’t know how easy they have it.

  He cocked his head, listening to the tiny speaker embedded in his ear, then removed himself from my booth. The older man from the bar walked over. I called a waitress over. Whispering into her ear, I slid her a C-note as I ordered two whiskeys.

  “Mr. Davenport.” The man held his hand to his chest as he took a seat opposite me.

  I said nothing, letting my hard stare speak for myself. After an uncomfortable pause, the man shifted in his seat and gave a cough. He started to speak, but the cocktail waitress returned with our drinks. I lifted my glass and he followed, giving it a little tip. I downed the entire shot and watched him do the same.

  “You know my name,” I began, “yet, I don’t know yours.”

  “Everyone knows you.”

  “Now, isn’t that nice to hear. If you know who I am, then you’re aware I don’t like being fucked with. You’re on borrowed time.” I made another show of looking at my watch. “You owe me a couple grand.” I glanced at the four girls I hired for the evening. They gathered around the end of the bar, looking scared, but too frightened to leave without my consent.

  “I thought that was a joke,” the man said.

  “No joke.”

  “You’re fucking serious.” He leaned back and gave a harsh laugh. “A man with balls. I like that, but be careful. That kind of confidence can be dangerous.”

  “I doubt it. Confidence isn’t what gets you killed.”

  �
��Is that so? What does?”

  “Weakness.”

  “You’re not what I expected.”

  “People tend to underestimate me.”

  “I’m curious about what you said to my friend.”

  “Which part?”

  “The part about what you have to offer.”

  “Interesting, I would have thought the getting fucked comment would’ve drawn more attention.”

  “Ah, but see, you underestimate me,” he said with a snort.

  “Do you really think that’s the case?”

  “Mr. Davenport,” the man said, “I’m fully aware of your plans. How about you save us some trouble and walk away?”

  I huffed a laugh. “Now why would I do that?”

  “Because, if you show up, it’ll be the last thing you do.”

  “See, this is why we won’t be friends.”

  He lifted one brow. The bastard still thought to intimidate me. He spread his hands in a depreciating gesture. “I’m not here to be your friend, but I did come to give you a warning.”

  “A man like you doesn’t waste his time with warnings.”

  “Don’t come to the auction.”

  I opened my jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Do you know what they say about money?”

  He stared at me.

  “People want you to think it doesn’t buy happiness, and for many it doesn’t. The truth is it buys a shit ton of happiness, but for a few rare individuals it buys something else.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Power to do whatever the fuck I want.” I slid the paper over to him, but kept my finger on it, letting him know he wouldn’t see it until I decided. His attention shifted to the paper and stayed there. The bastard would lose his shirt in a poker game. He was too easy to read.

  I gestured to the girls at the end of the bar. “You’re up to three thousand, time costs money.” I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “They do whatever I tell them to do. They fuck whomever I want, and they let me do whatever the hell I please. I can humiliate them or beat them to within an inch of their life. They let me because I pay for the privilege.”