Protecting Lanie (Club Tales #6)

Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

ARCHER

A rcher gripped Lanie’s phone so tightly he was half a second away from snapping it in half. The photo on the screen burned into his mind—Lanie, captured in real-time as she entered the club. The timestamp was fresh.

Molina had eyes on her.

Archer forced himself to take a slow, controlled breath. The room felt too small, the air too thick with the scent of Lanie’s fear.

She stood frozen in front of him, her hands wrapped around her arms as if she could hold herself together. Her wide, dark eyes locked onto his, searching for something—reassurance, maybe. Safety.

She was looking to him for that.

“You’re not staying here,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Her brows pulled together. “Archer, I...”

He closed the space between them in two steps, cradling her jaw in his rough palm, tilting her chin up so she had no choice but to look at him. “This isn’t a request, little one. Pack anything you need. Clothes, personal items. You’re not coming back here until this is over.”

Lanie bit her lip. “And if I say no?”

His jaw clenched. He stepped closer, looming over her, his voice low and deliberate. “Then I throw you over my shoulder and carry you out.”

Her breath hitched. Heat flared in her eyes, warring with frustration. “That’s not fair.”

Archer’s lips quirked. “You’re damn right it isn’t. Now move, little one.”

She’s done this before. Run. Hidden. Not anymore.

She trembled slightly, but not from fear. He could feel it—the pulse racing beneath her skin, the way her breath came faster. She was overwhelmed, shaken, but she trusted him. That trust was a fragile thing, and he’d be damned if he let anything happen to her.

“Lanie,” he said, voice quieter now, though no less firm. “Molina isn’t just watching. He’s closing in. I’m not going to let him get close enough to take you.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “I...”

“I’ll handle him.” The words were a promise. A vow.

Lanie inhaled shakily, her hands still clenched into fists.

“Pack a bag,” he repeated, voice softening just slightly. “You’re coming home with me.”

She didn’t argue this time. Instead, she disappeared into her bedroom. He listened to the quiet shuffle of her movements, the way she moved with a quiet efficiency that told him she knew how to leave without a trace.

Archer took the moment to pull out his secure line and dial Reyna.

She picked up on the first ring. “Tell me you’ve got eyes on her place.”

“I do,” Reyna said. “No signs of anyone yet, but that message? It means someone’s been watching.”

Archer clenched his jaw. “I want a full security sweep of the block. Check for cameras, blind spots, anything Molina’s men could be using to track her movements.”

“Already on it,” Reyna confirmed. “But you should know—Cerberus just flagged something else. King called me directly.”

Archer’s gut tightened. “What is it?”

Reyna hesitated. “Molina might be using Club Southside.”

His entire body went still.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Reyna let out a slow breath. “We intercepted a message in one of the encrypted channels used by the Master’s Market recruiters. Someone inside the club has been feeding them names. Specifically, submissives who fit their preferred profile.”

Archer’s grip on the phone turned lethal.

“They’re scouting,” Reyna continued. “And Lanie? She fits the profile perfectly.”

Fire ignited in Archer’s blood.

He was done playing defense.

“Shut it down,” he ordered. “No one else gets taken.”

“Already done,” Reyna said.

Archer ended the call just as Lanie stepped back into the room, a small overnight bag slung over her shoulder.

She hesitated at the sight of his expression. “What happened?”

Archer took the bag from her, slinging it over his own shoulder before grabbing her hand. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Lanie didn’t fight him, but she dug her heels in enough to slow him down. “Archer. Tell me.”

He exhaled hard, turning to face her. “Someone inside the club is feeding information to the Master’s Market. They’re targeting submissives.” His voice dropped lower. “Targeting you.”

Her face drained of color. “No…”

“Yes.” Archer’s grip tightened on her hand. “That means no more arguments. No more pretending this isn’t happening. You stay with me.”

Lanie shivered, her gaze flickering away. “I don’t want to put you in danger.”

A deep, rough chuckle rumbled from his chest, humorless. “You think I give a damn about that?” He reached up, cupping her face. “You’re mine to protect, little one,” he said, his hand gently cupping her face, his touch both reassuring and possessive.

Her lips parted, but whatever protest she had died before it reached her tongue.

Because she felt it too. There was something between them—the way his dominance pulled at her submission—it was something she’d never felt before.

After a moment, she let out a shaky breath. “Okay.”

Archer brushed his thumb along her cheek, then took her hand again. “Let’s go.”

By the time they arrived at Archer’s place, it was late.

Lanie stepped into his Greystone, eyes flicking around as if she was trying to piece together who he was from the surrounding space.

He watched her closely, waiting for any signs of discomfort, but she exhaled, shoulders relaxing just a little.

That was good.

She needed to feel safe here.

“Come on.” He guided her inside, locking the door behind them and activating the security system.

“Archer…” Lanie hesitated in the foyer, shifting her bag from one hand to the other. “Thank you.”

He exhaled, raking a hand through his hair. “You don’t need to thank me, Lanie.”

She took a step closer, something unreadable in her expression. “I do.”

Archer stilled as she reached out, pressing a small, uncertain hand against his chest. His pulse kicked up, but he ignored it. Leading her upstairs, he stopped outside the guest room before opening the door and setting her bag down inside. “You’ll stay here. Door locks from the inside.”

Lanie hesitated. “Where will you be?”

"Across the hall," he said, his gaze darkening. "And I’ll know the second anyone gets too close." With a slight tilt of his head, he added, "Come on, let’s head back downstairs."

He led the way to the main floor, showing her around, making her comfortable and ensuring she knew how to get out safely in case there was an emergency. She sat on the couch looking at him. She let out a slow breath, searching his face for something—maybe reassurance. Archer leaned against the mantle, arms folded, watching her with narrowed eyes.

“I need you to remain inside. While the yard and surrounding neighborhood should be safe, I won’t risk something happening to you.”

Lanie came up off the couch and stomped her foot—it was kind of adorable—frustration burning in her dark eyes. "I’ve spent too much of my life being controlled, Archer. I won’t do it again."

Archer exhaled slowly, deliberately. "This isn’t about control, little one. It’s about keeping you safe. You’re in danger and you’re going to do as you’re told, so I can keep you out of the hands of those who would harm you."

Archer pushed off the mantle, closing the space between them in two slow, deliberate steps. Lanie stiffened but held her ground. He reached down, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She sucked in a breath at the contact, and he didn’t miss the way her pulse quickened at her throat.

"This isn’t about control," he murmured, his voice low. "This is about protection. There is a difference."

Her lips parted slightly, but she didn’t speak. Didn’t step away either.

Archer tilted her chin up, his thumb tracing the soft curve of her jaw. "Tell me you don’t feel safer with me here."

Lanie swallowed hard, her eyes locked on his. For a long, charged moment, neither of them moved. His gaze dipped to her mouth, and he could see the way her body leaned into his without realizing it.

But then, at the last second, she turned her head away, stepping back. "I need air," she muttered, rubbing her hands down her arms.

“Stay inside,” he said, letting her go.

She harrumphed at him and then all but stomped up the stairs. Archer grinned. Lanie had a bit of the brat in her. That was fine with him. He’d tamed brats before.

Archer stared at the encrypted message glowing on his laptop screen, his gut twisting.

Someone inside Cerberus or the club is feeding Molina intel.

Reyna’s words echoed in his head from earlier that night. ‘Whoever it is, they’re good,’ she’d told him over the secured line. ‘ They’re covering their tracks, but I caught a pattern—classified information is being leaked. Someone inside our ranks is playing both sides.’

Archer dragged a hand through his hair. A traitor inside their ranks—shit! Whether it was Cerberus itself or the club didn’t matter. Cerberus had existed for so many years without a mole or any kind of leak, and now it appeared they were coming out of the woodwork. As for the club, part of its stock and trade was discretion.

He clenched his jaw, his mind racing through the possibilities. Cerberus maintained a tight operation; they carefully vetted and trained their people in counterintelligence. How had they missed this? Who was it, but more importantly, how were they going to shut him or her down?

If someone was leaking information to Molina, that meant they wanted him to succeed. Which meant Lanie was in even more danger than he thought.

His phone buzzed.

He grabbed it without hesitation. "Talk to me."

"It’s Reyna." Her voice was clipped, urgent. "We got something big."

Archer straightened. "Go."

"A deal’s going down at the Velvet Glove," she said. "An auction. Invitation-only. High roller clientele."

His blood ran cold.

"When?"

"Masquerade party this weekend," Reyna said. "It’s the perfect cover. The club’s hosting a private event at an estate—Molina’s people are using it to move new merchandise."

Archer’s grip on the phone tightened. "Tell me we have an in."

"Already working on it," Reyna assured him. "King’s pulling strings to get you inside as a buyer."

Archer exhaled. He hated playing this game, but if it got him closer to Molina, to whoever was leaking intel—to keeping Lanie safe—he’d do whatever it took.

His gaze flicked toward the guest room, where Lanie was sleeping, blissfully unaware of what was coming.

That was about to change.