Capturing Callie
Club Isola
Capturing Callie
Callie Reece has always been the responsible one…and where has it gotten her? A low-paying job as a reporter sent in a rowboat to spy on the ultra-exclusive BDSM club that caters to Washington’s inner circle.
Club owner Ian McGregor and his best friend, former Navy SEAL Jace Garrett, capture the tiny blonde beauty trying to sneak on the island. Ian is captivated by the woman he sees below the surface, and he recognizes Callie as a submissive from the moment he looks into her eyes. Ian gives her a choice—jail or a month as his submissive. Is she brave enough to pursue a lifestyle she’d already become interested in?
But Callie is the last witness to a crime committed by the only son of US Senator John Westmore. And now Grant Westmore is seeking a powerful State Department appointment, and Callie is the last loose end standing in his way. Can Ian McGregor’s billions keep Callie safe?
Genre:
BDSM, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Romantic Suspense
Length:
64,345 words
Club Isola
Avery Gale
MENAGE AND MORE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage and More
CAPTURING CALLIE
E-book ISBN:
978-1-62242-838-0
First E-book Publication: April 2013
Cover design by Harris Channing
All cover art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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Capturing Callie
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To my crazy aunts who always encouraged me to speak my mind. Their wild and wacky senses of adventure helped launch my imagination.
CAPTURING CALLIE
Club Isola
AVERY GALE
Copyright © 2013
Ian McGregor looked out over the still waters of the bay toward the shimmering lights of the mainland. Standing in front of the wall of windows in his bedroom suite gave him an amazing view of what he had always considered one of the most beautiful expanses of water on Earth. His many business pursuits required him to travel the world, so he figured his opinion was at the very least informed. Living on an island off the coast of his beloved Virginia had proven to be a dream come true. He valued his privacy and, considering his chosen lifestyle, staying out of the media spotlight was almost a requirement.
Even though he kept luxury penthouse suites in several cities, the home he’d built here was where he spent the majority of his time and where he felt the most comfortable. The entire structure was an eco-technological wonder. Hell, the patents alone on the energy-efficient building materials he’d designed for it would make him a billion dollars in the next ten years. And that was without adding in the software for the audio-visual and security systems. He had collaborated with his friend and colleague, Mitch Grayson, on several of the security system’s features, and Ian was thrilled to be sharing the profits from those with Mitch. Sighing as he thought about how Mitch and his friend, Bryant Davis, had settled down with their wife and submissive, Rissa, he wondered if he’d ever be as happy as they seemed.
Glancing around the beautifully landscaped gardens between his home and the beach, he smiled, remembering all the time he’d spent listening to the Lamonts explain the “special” elements of the beautiful gardens behind The ShadowDance Club. He planned to implement some of their ideas behind Club Isola as soon as he figured out how to camouflage it from overhead. The members of ultraprivate Club Isola were, for the most part, very high-profile public figures, so media intrusion was always a concern. And while the patents for his island retreat were the moneymakers, it was the well-hidden building on the other side of the small expanse of land that had been his true motive for this labor of love.
Only a select few people had known about the deep caves on the tiny island, and that fact had enabled his purchase of the small treasure for well under its real value. The caves were deep and structurally sound with several natural outlets so ventilation and escape routes had been easy to implement. The island itself was just over two square miles in area and was long enough that he’d been able to add a small landing strip and helipad. The golf course had been designed by a member of the PGA who had traded his services for a lifetime membership to the club. As soon as he found the right manager, he wanted to build a small but very exclusive luxury resort he would simply call The Resort Isola.
While he’d been at ShadowDance Mountain last month, he’d vowed to lure away their newly hired motel manager, but Alex and Zach Lamont had threatened to castrate him if he did. He’d been in the room but out of her view during her interview and had been impressed with the Marilyn Monroe look-alike. Smiling to himself he remembered Alex growling at him, but it had been Zach’s threat that had made him laugh and ultimately give up his taunts. Zach had threatened to sic their wife, Katarina, on him, and Ian was wise enough to avoid the tiny blonde’s wrath. He’d also been smart enough to hire her on the spot to do his web-designing after he’d seen some of her work. He’d enjoyed teasing her about being too smart to be married to his Neanderthal friends. She hadn’t missed a beat and had joined right in agreeing with him, something Ian was sure her sweet ass had paid for later that evening.
Looking down on to his private beach, Ian wondered if he’d ever share it with a woman who would appreciate it for all it had been designed to be. No one visiting the club or any of the island’s other amenities would ever be able to get close enough to view the small strip of sand. The flora surrounding it was reminiscent of a rain forest, and he had even added a solar-powered waterfall cascading over eco-friendly and erosion-resistant material fashioned to look like the volcanic and granite bedrock found in the Shenandoah National Park. The entire area was so well protected there was rarely even as much as a white-cap atop the tiny inlet’s water, and the white sand he’d brought in for the beach sparkled as if it was laced with diamonds each evening as the sun set.
Standing in the dark and thinking back over the past several years, Ian was surprised he didn’t feel a deeper sense of satisfaction from all he’d accomplished. Monetarily the past five years had been more than he could have ever dreamed possible, but all the professional success in the world wasn’t meeting the burning need in his soul. He hadn’t even been able to pinpoint exactly what it was that he was looking for, so finding a solution in the near future didn’t seem likely.
Just as he was ready to turn back into the room before heading down for a late dinner, something out on the water caught his eye. He’d just caught a distorted shadow in the glimmering lights that looked as if it had been about a quarter of a mile off-shore. Grabbing the night-vision scope he kept nearby, he stepped out on to the wide walkway that surrounded his private quarters and hit the small, hidden switch that suppressed the solar security and landscaping lights so he wouldn’t be seen. As he zeroed in on the spot, he saw a shimmer of blonde. His eyes had to be playing tricks on him. Nobody would brave the frigid bay waters that far out knowing there was no way to avoid detection once they’d made their way on to the island. Mentally correcting himself, Ian knew that wasn’t entirely true. There were two types of people who would try—corporate spies and reporters.
Ian had seen the company helicopter land about an hour ago, so he knew Jace would be in his office by now. He and Jace Garrett had been friends since college. After graduation, Ian had returned to take over his father’s struggling business after his dad had died suddenly from a heart attack, and Jace had joined the Navy. They had stayed in contact even as Jace had gone on to become a SEAL. When Jace had decided to retire after a mission had gone so far south his friend had sworn to him he’d seen penguins, Ian had hired him as the Chief of Security for McGregor Holdings. Ian hit the button on his phone that would connect him directly with Jace, and Ian wasn’t surprised when the other man answered on the second ring.
“Garrett. What’s up, boss?” Jace’s tone reflected his surprise. Ian rarely called him this late.
“Looks like we’ve got company. Meet me at the top of the stairs leading to the dock. Bring the night visions. I want to see who this is before we confront them.”
“Roger that. ETA two minutes.” Ian smiled to himself, nothing like the US Special Forces teams to drill clear and concise communication techniques into their members. But truth be told, Ian found himself using the same curt, cut-to-the-chase style in business as well, and he’d often wondered if it was Jace’s influence or simply his own lack of motivation to listen to what was usually a bunch of dribble.