Chapter 9
9
GAVIN
G avin pulled at the fancy cuffs of his silk shirt. It wasn’t what he usually wore at the club, but it was within the rules and seemed more professional than his usual leather vest. Somehow putting on his leathers—even this version—made him feel more like himself—even more than jeans with chaps or tactical gear. His fingers all but caressed the baby-soft leather as he surveyed the Iron Spur’s main lounge. The club was alive with energy, the low hum of conversation and the occasional thud of a flogger’s tails making contact with a sub’s skin. There was also quiet laughter punctuating the smooth rhythm of ambient music. The dim lighting cast a golden glow over the sleek furniture and polished bar in the lounge, giving everything an air of exclusivity.
Roxie stood near the bar, looking both out of place and entirely captivating in her black corset top, leather pants and apron. The outfit hugged her curves in all the right ways, and Gavin had to force himself to keep his gaze professional as he watched her.
“I feel ridiculous,” she muttered, glancing over her shoulder at him.
“You look fine,” Gavin said, his tone even.
Roxie snorted softly. “Fine? Wow, don’t go overboard with the compliments.”
Gavin allowed a faint smile, but his eyes were already scanning the room. “You’re here for a reason, Roxie. Focus on that.”
She sighed, rolling her eyes, but he caught the nervous grimace in her expression as she turned back toward the bar.
Gavin watched as Roxie crossed the room toward Vanessa Ellington. If she really wanted tips on becoming a successful author, Vanessa was the one to talk to. And unlike so many really successful authors, Vanessa was always willing to help other authors find success.
Vanessa was a stunning woman who looked every inch the romance writer. She was a highly sought-after submissive in the club, but she had only been collared once and then only briefly and often came in just to sit in the lounge. Gavin was fairly sure Roxie took notes and based characters on people she met. She had an air of quiet confidence and was sitting in one of the back booths. He looked toward the diametrically opposite end of the lounge and as Gavin had suspected, Hawke was watching her.
Roxie hesitated, smoothing the front of her apron before making her way over. Gavin kept a respectful distance mainly because he was sure it wasn’t Vanessa who was trying to kill Roxie. He positioned himself near the end of the bar where he could keep an eye on both the entrance to the lounge as well as overhear Roxie’s conversation with Vanessa. He leaned against the wall, blending into the shadows as he kept an eye on her.
“Excuse me,” Roxie said, her voice soft but steady as she approached the woman. “You’re Vanessa Ellington, right?”
The woman turned, gazing at Roxie with polite curiosity. “I am. And you are?”
“Roxie Albright,” she said quickly. “I… I’ve heard you’re a writer. A romance author.”
Vanessa arched a brow, her lips curving into a faint smile. “I see my reputation precedes me. What can I do for you, Roxie?”
“I’m trying to write,” Roxie admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I’ve been scribbling ideas for years, but I don’t know if they’re any good or where to start. I was hoping you might have some advice.”
Vanessa’s smile softened, and she gestured to the booth. “I don’t have much time tonight—on a deadline—but I could give you a few minutes now and we could make arrangements to meet again and have a more in depth conversation.”
“Oh my god. That would be fantastic,” said Roxie.
Gavin strained to hear their conversation over the ambient noise, catching snippets of Roxie’s nervous voice and Vanessa’s calm, measured responses.
“I used to think writing was about talent,” Vanessa said, her voice carrying just enough for Gavin to catch the words. “But it’s about persistence. You have to be willing to sit down and write, even when it’s bad. Especially when it’s bad.”
Roxie nodded, leaning forward slightly. “But what if… what if it’s never good enough?”
Vanessa’s smile widened. “Every writer feels that way at some point or another and often many times throughout their career. We call it imposter’s syndrome and in my opinion it is only those who truly are imposters who never feel it.”
“Surely you don’t.”
Vanessa’s laughter was bright and pure and Gavin glanced at Hawke who looked as though someone was stabbing him in the heart, repeatedly. Hawke had been the one to collar the gorgeous redhead, but as quickly as it had started, the whole thing blew up although neither would ever say what happened.
“Of course I do. Sometimes the best fix is a session with a Dom who knows what he’s doing with a flogger. In any event, the secret to writing is to finish, regardless of how bad it is. Remember, you can’t fix what isn’t written.”
Roxie let out a soft laugh, and Gavin felt a pang in his chest at the sound. He wasn’t used to hearing her laugh—at least not like that, free of stress or guardedness.
“What about getting published?” Roxie asked. “That seems… impossible.”
Vanessa tilted her head thoughtfully. “It’s not as impossible as you think. Start with finishing your manuscript. After that, there are dozens of paths—traditional publishing, self-publishing. But the most important thing is to tell your story. No one else can do it for you.”
Roxie nodded, her expression a mix of determination and gratitude. “Thank you. That… helps. A lot.”
Vanessa reached across the table, squeezing Roxie’s hand briefly. “You’ve got this. Just remember—it’s not about being perfect. It’s about being brave.”
Gavin stayed where he was, watching as Roxie finished the conversation and returned to the bar. Her posture was lighter, her steps more purposeful as she grabbed a glass of water and took a sip.
When she caught Gavin’s eye, she rolled her eyes dramatically. “You don’t have to loom, you know.”
“Wasn’t looming,” he said, stepping closer.
“Sure you weren’t.”
Gavin grinned but didn’t respond. “How’d it go?”
Roxie’s lips curved into a small smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes but hinted at something softer. “Good, actually. She gave me some great advice.”
“Good,” Gavin said simply, his voice low.
They stood in silence, the energy between them shifting into something warmer. Gavin’s gaze lingered on her a beat too long, his groin tightening as he watched her smooth a strand of hair behind her ear. He had to keep his distance he reminded his cock—had to be a professional, but his cock wasn’t listening.
“You really care about this writing thing, don’t you?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.
Roxie looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. “Yeah. I do. It’s… the only thing that feels like mine, you know?”
Gavin nodded, his throat tightening. “Then you keep at it, Roxie. Don’t let anyone—or anything—take it away from you.”
The intensity in his voice caught her off guard, and she just stared at him, her heart hammering in her chest.
“Thanks,” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper.
Gavin nodded, glanced at his watch and stepped back slightly. “Your shift is almost over…”
“No it’s not.”
“I’m one of the owners, and I say it is. Let’s get out of here. It’s been a long night.”
Roxie rolled her eyes but said nothing. If she ever became his sub, he was going to curb that bratty attitude, although he was beginning to enjoy it far more than he’d ever thought he would. Roxie disappeared into the locker room.
While he waited, Gavin approached the bar. “Evening, Bones.”
"Evening, Boss, can I get you something?" Bones asked, wiping down a glass.
"Information, actually," Gavin replied, his tone friendly but direct. "I'm looking into some recent... disturbances around here. Wondered if you'd noticed anything unusual."
Bones gaze flickered with curiosity. "Unusual how? Involving our people?"
"Unknown. Just guests or anyone asking too many questions. People showing up who don't seem to belong. That sort of thing."
The man shrugged. "No more than usual. We don’t get a lot of outsiders. Privacy's part of the appeal."
"True," Gavin agreed, sliding a folded bill across the counter. "But sometimes privacy can hide trouble."
Bones glanced at the money, then pushed it back looking at Gavin. "Now that you mention it, there was a guy hanging around last week. Didn't fit the usual crowd. He came in with one of the newer members, but they didn’t really hang out. The stranger kept mostly to the shadows, watching people more than participating or even drinking."
"Can you describe him?" Gavin asked, leaning in slightly.
"Average height, dark hair, wore a Stetson knock-off pulled low. Didn't catch much else. Something about him, just didn’t sit quite right."
Gavin nodded, his jaw tightening. "If you see him again, let me or one of the other owners know."
"Will do."
After Roxie reappeared in her street clothes, they walked toward the exit, side by side, the air between them buzzed with an unspoken connection. Whatever happened next, Gavin knew one thing for sure—he’d do whatever it took to make sure Roxie had the chance to chase her dreams. And to keep her safe while she did.
Moving away from the bar, Gavin scanned the room with renewed focus. The soft lighting and elegant decor of the Iron Spur belied the undercurrents of secrecy that flowed beneath the surface. He glanced into the dungeon and his gaze settled on one of the newer floor staff—a slim man with darting eyes who seemed unusually tense.
"Roxie stay here with Bones. I’ll be right back.”
Before she could protest, Gavin turned away from her, made his way to the dungeon floor and slowly approached the staff member slowly. “Excuse me," he said, catching the man's attention.
The staff member jumped slightly, almost dropping the tray he was holding. "Yes, sir? Can I help you?"
"Just had a question," Gavin said smoothly. "Have you noticed any unfamiliar faces around here lately? Someone who seems... out of place?"
The man's eyes shifted nervously. "I, uh, wouldn't know. I just started."
"Really?" Gavin's tone remained casual, but his eyes were sharp. "Because you seem a bit on edge. Everything okay?"
"Fine. Everything's fine," the man insisted, backing away slightly. "I need to get back to work."
Before Gavin could press further, the employee hurried off, disappearing through a door marked 'Staff Only.' Gavin frowned, his instincts telling him that something was definitely off. He made a mental note to have Reed pull the guy’s personnel profile and give it a thorough re-check.
As he continued his circuit around the dungeon floor, Gavin felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickling—a familiar sensation from years in the field. He was being watched.
Casually, he shifted his position to catch the reflection from a mirrored section of wall nearby. There, near the edge of the room, a figure lingered in the shadows. The man was partially obscured by a curtain, but Gavin could make out the outline of a dark jacket and a cowboy hat pulled low over his face.
Gavin's muscles tensed. The description matched the one given by the bartender. He decided to approach, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease.
But as he neared the spot, a group of laughing patrons stumbled into his path, and by the time he maneuvered around them, the shadowy figure was gone. It could be that he’d realized he was in violation of one of the rules—anyone on the dungeon floor had to be attired in fet wear. Or it could have been something more nefarious.
Gavin scanned the area again, his eyes narrowing. The exit door at the end of the corridor swung shut, suggesting a hasty retreat.
"Dammit," he muttered under his breath.
Gavin followed, making his way outside, stepping into the cool night air. The alley behind the club was dimly lit, the sounds of the city muffled by the building's high walls. He listened carefully, straining to pick up any sign of movement.
A faint scuff of footsteps echoed from around the corner. Gavin moved swiftly, rounding the edge of the building just in time to see the silhouette of a man disappearing into a black sedan.
Their eyes met for a split second as the car's engine roared to life. The stranger's face was shadowed, but there was a glint of something—recognition, perhaps—as he sped away.
Gavin cursed, pulling out his phone to snap a photo of the license plate, but the car turned sharply, disappearing into traffic before he could get a clear shot.
He stood there, anger and concern coiling in his gut like a rattlesnake ready to strike. Whoever this was, they were getting bolder. And that meant Roxie was in greater danger than he’d realized.
Re-entering the club, Gavin found Roxie waiting with Bones, her expression curious. "Everything okay?" she asked, searching his face for any clue as to what was going on.
"Everything is fine," he lied smoothly. "Ready to go?"
She eyed him skeptically as she moved to his side. "You're a terrible liar."
Gavin managed a faint smile. "Just thought I saw someone I recognized. Turned out to be nothing."
Roxie tilted her head, concern flickering in her eyes. "You're sure?"
"Yeah," he said, placing a reassuring hand on her back. The warmth of her body against his palm sent an unexpected jolt through him, but he pushed the feeling aside. "Let's get you back to the ranch."
As they stepped outside, Gavin's gaze swept the surrounding area, ever vigilant. Roxie noticed. "You're on high alert tonight," she commented softly.
"Just being careful," he replied.
She hesitated, then touched his arm lightly. "Thank you, Gavin. For looking out for me."
He met her gaze, the sincerity in her eyes stirring something deep within him. "Always," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
The rest of the world seemed to fade away, and it was just the two of them beneath the soft glow of the streetlights. Gavin felt an almost overwhelming urge to pull her close, to promise her that he'd keep her safe no matter the cost.
But the memory of the shadowy figure lingered, a stark reminder of the danger that seemed to surround her.
"Come on," he said gently, guiding her toward the truck. "Let's get you home."
As they drove away from the club, Gavin couldn't shake the uneasy feeling settling in his chest. The threat was real, and it was closing in. His protective instincts surged, and he silently vowed to stay one step ahead of whoever was hunting Roxie.
Because losing her wasn't an option he was willing to consider.