Scorched Edges (16 page)

“I often go to the club the night before a day off. The bug only strikes when I’m back at work, so that makes sense. He knows my routine. There’s a definite link to The Underground, so why can’t I think of anyone that might be responsible?”

“This date here corresponds with something called The Nightlife Exhibition. What was that?”

“You know Alistair is a photographer?”

Marty nodded.

“Well, after Joe and Olly rescued him from the clinic his father sent him to, Carey celebrated by putting on a surprise showing of his work at the club. It was a huge success. He used it to expose Alistair’s father. It was quite a night.”

“But you weren’t involved in the rescue or anything to do with Alistair’s father, were you?”

“No, not at all.” Beau scrubbed at his hair in frustration. “Why can’t I see it…? Wait. Go back a bit.” He peered at the screen then prodded a line with his finger. “That night there was an incident at the club. A small fire. I was there with another member who’s also a fireman. We put the fire out before it really got started and checked the club for any other risks. Carey later got a text with a threat that worse would happen if he tried to get Alistair back.”

“Did the person who set that fire ever get caught?” Marty asked, excited that they might finally be getting somewhere.

“Yes. I can’t remember the guy’s name but he was a club member that Alistair’s father had bribed. He was the one who let the men in that took Alistair as well. Aiden was involved in identifying him. I think he was arrested. I didn’t take much notice of what happened with him.”

“So he wasn’t someone you played with?” Marty fought back a surge of jealousy.

“No. I don’t think I ever noticed him at all. Fuck.” Beau clenched his fists.

“What?”

“See me dance. The message from the fire sites—that’s what was written. Perhaps that’s the whole point. I didn’t
see
him at all. Not at the club anyway.”

“But he wanted you to.” Marty reached for Beau’s hand and gave it a pat. “I’ll call Becket. He and Aiden will be able to track this man down, whoever he is. They can pass the information to the police and maybe this nightmare will be over.”

Beau nodded. “There’s something missing, though. From what I recall, Carey removed the guy’s membership, so he can’t have been tracking my movements at The Underground. Surely I would have noticed someone hanging around, following me? It doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s a start. Let me get Becket on the case and we’ll see where it goes.”

Marty made his call and gave Becket a rapid explanation of what he and Beau had come up with. He rang off.

“All we can do now is wait and see what they come up with. However are we going to pass the time?” He batted his lashes at Beau.

Beau pounced, dragging him from his chair and throwing him over his shoulder. Marty yelped when Beau’s hand connected with his ass, driving the plug deeper.

“How about some role play? Fireman rescues naughty sub caught playing with matches and teaches him a lesson.”

Marty bounced on Beau’s shoulder as he was carried toward the bedroom. His rock-hard cock rubbed against Beau’s firm chest.

“What kind of lesson, Sir?”

“The kind that makes you forget your own name.” A couple more smacks connected with Marty’s behind. He squirmed happily.

“Sounds perfect.”

Chapter Ten

Marty still found it a little odd to be socializing with his boss at The Underground. It wasn’t like going round to a colleague’s house of an evening for a barbecue or potluck supper. It was leather and chains, collars and cuffs. Becket in the office was a calm, efficient professional, albeit with a penchant for giving orders. At the club he was all Dom, radiating power and authority like a beacon. He only spoke to Marty if Beau allowed it. The whole situation was surreal. Marty tried to wrap his head around the psychology of it all but in the end gave it up.
Go with the flow. This is real. My boss is a Dom but not
my
Dom. Respect for Becket at work is not the same as the submission I give Beau.

Marty wriggled closer to Beau and leaned against him in an attempt to absorb some of his strength and calm. They sat on one side of a booth in a quiet corner of The Underground. Becket and Christian sat opposite them. The table held four glasses of iced juice and bowls of Becket’s favorite cheesy nachos. Beau picked out a savory treat and fed it to Marty.

“Oh yum, that’s delicious, thank you, Sir.” Marty smacked his lips together happily. “I’m quite hungry.” He reached for the bowl.

Beau slapped his hand away. “Oh no you don’t. You’ll eat from my hand or not at all. Perhaps I should cuff you.”

“Oh! Wait…you carry handcuffs on you?”

“Of course I do. You never know when they’ll come in handy for restraining a misbehaving sub.”

Across the table, Christian giggled. Becket gave him an indulgent hug.

“Now, sweetheart, Beau’s not the only Dom who likes to be prepared.” He patted his belt where a pair of black steel cuffs resided. “No making fun or I might have to use these.”

“Please?” Christian made the soppiest puppy eyes Marty had ever witnessed.

“Later, love. I promise.” Becket’s hand disappeared down the front of Christian’s trousers.

“Thanks for inviting us over tonight, Becket.” Beau raised his glass in a toast. “But I get the feeling that this isn’t just a get together and chat kind of night.”

“No, it isn’t. I didn’t want to go into detail on the phone, you never know who’s listening. I’m expecting a couple of other people who should be here any minute.” He glanced across the room. “Heath and Aiden will be joining us soon.”

“Has Aiden found something? Why didn’t you tell me at work?” Marty blurted out. A slight increase in the pressure of Beau’s hold on him was the only sign Beau gave to acknowledge Marty’s lapse.

“Oh! I’m sorry, Sir. I spoke out of turn.” Marty lowered his eyes.

“Understandable given the circumstances, love. You’re forgiven.”

“No punishment?” Marty secretly wished he might get one.

“I didn’t say that.” Beau stroked the bulge in Marty’s leather trousers and gave him an enigmatic smile.

Marty swallowed nervously.

Becket cleared his throat. “To answer Marty’s question, yes, Aiden has some information. I never got a chance to tell you at work, Marty, because I had to get a few facts checked out first. Heath had to come to London on business today and he doesn’t like leaving Aiden behind so I decided it would be a good opportunity for him to come in to the office for some overdue staff training. That’s tomorrow. They’re staying at Joe’s house tonight and Heath thought it would be easier if we all got together here.”

There was a slight change in the noise level of the club as the general chatter reduced.

“Sounds like they’ve arrived.” Becket rolled his eyes. “Heath does have a way of drawing peoples’ attention.”

Marty swiveled around. He gaped. The couple walking toward them would stop traffic. He knew instantly that Heath was the taller man of the pair. He dressed simply in black jeans and a plain shirt but moved with a confidence bordering on arrogance. Slightly behind him a young man in skintight leather scowled at the world. He went shirtless, and when Marty glanced down, he saw that he was also barefoot. Around his neck was a collar that could have been fashioned in a medieval dungeon. It didn’t detract from his beauty. Aiden was stunning.

Beau and Becket both stood to greet Heath. Marty stole a glance at Christian. “Is that collar cast iron?” he mouthed.

Christian nodded, fingering the soft strip of leather around his own throat. Marty gulped. He didn’t think he’d like to have something so obviously uncomfortable around his neck. The Doms took their seats, and Beau pulled Marty into his lap. Aiden sank to his knees at the side of Heath’s chair, clasped his hands behind his back and bowed his head. He kept perfectly still.

“Marty, I’d like to introduce you to Heath Anders and his sub, Aiden,” Becket said.

“You may speak, love,” Beau added when Marty gave him a questioning glance.

“It’s nice to meet you. Sir. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Marty said, addressing Heath.

“None of it good, I imagine.” Heath’s eyes twinkled, and Marty realized that despite the intimidating appearance, Heath was not a threat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Marty. We were very relieved to hear you survived the Temple Church bomb.” He pulled Aiden’s head up by his hair. “Say hello, Aiden.”

Aiden snarled and jerked his head free. “Fucking dictator.” Aiden switched off the scowl he directed at Heath then smiled sweetly at Marty. “It’s great to meet a colleague, Marty, and it will make a change to have an intelligent conversation for once. Becket speaks highly of you. I hope we’ll get to spend some time together at the office tomorrow.”

“That’s ten you’ve earned so far this evening, love,” Heath said mildly.

“Yes, Sir.” Aiden sighed and resumed his examination of the carpet.

“Just ten strokes, Heath? You’re getting soft,” Becket teased.

“Not strokes. Days. Ten days of deep submission. In chastity.” Heath stroked Aiden’s hair, and to Marty’s surprise, Aiden rested his cheek against Heath’s thigh.

“Aiden has been a little high-strung recently and needs grounding.”

Beau chuckled. “Man after my own heart.”

“Sir!” Marty exclaimed in a panic. “You wouldn’t?”

Beau just gave him a look that said, yes, he definitely would. Marty discovered his cock had hardened. He wriggled in Beau’s lap, trying to find a comfortable position.
Stupid dick. Why the hell is it getting excited at the idea of being locked up? Completely irrational response.

Becket put his arm around Christian’s shoulders and pulled him close.

“So, tell us what you’ve found. No need to mention
how,
though.”

Heath nodded. “Aiden, please explain.”

Aiden raised his head. “I was getting precisely nowhere until Becket passed on what Marty and Beau worked out. It was the hook I needed to draw out other information. The club member that set the fire here called himself Jonah Salter. That should have been a clue in itself—he stole your name, Mr. Beauman. His club registration documents listed him as Jonah Salter-Smith. The club requires a National Insurance number for identification purposes and I was able to determine that his real name is just a simple Jonah Smith.”

Marty wondered how Aiden had managed to hack the national database containing
that
information. A warrant to do it officially would have taken days to obtain.

“Wow. This obsession has been going on a long time,” Beau said with a frown.

“It has. Once I knew his real name, the search got a little easier. I used some facial recognition algorithms on photographic records of fires where you were in attendance. Jonah Smith came up three times in photographs of onlookers. He’s been following you for months.”

Marty wanted to ask how the algorithms had worked but restrained himself. He and Aiden could talk about that another time.

“And all because I didn’t notice him here?” Beau sounded perplexed. “It’s not as if I deliberately ignored him. He just didn’t make it onto my radar.”

“No, that’s part of the reason but not the whole story,” Aiden said. “He joined the club
after
some of the fires. I think it’s likely that this obsession started out as some kind of hero worship. I haven’t found anything solid yet but I believe it’s likely he would have been involved in an earlier incident, not as an arsonist but a victim. With a bit of perseverance it wouldn’t have been hard for him to find out that Beau was a member here.”

“That makes sense. The messages left at early fire scenes were not often legible, but at least one was definitely worded slightly differently.
See me burn
rather than
See me dance
. I’d lay money that the change occurred after he joined the club.”

“We’ve passed all the information on to the police,” Becket chimed in. “There was no sign of this guy at his listed address. His photograph has been circulated and a warrant issued for his arrest. If he surfaces, he’ll be spotted sooner or later.”

“What about work?” Marty asked.

“He had a job at The Marmalade Factory. He was deputy manager of the cinema there, appointed three months ago. They have some scheme where they take on offenders on probation. No surprise, he hasn’t been seen since the fire.”

“Wow. He would have had all the time in the world to set things up there. It’s a miracle no one was killed.” Marty shivered, and Beau drew him closer.

“He’s caused millions of pounds worth of damage and put several people in the hospital. He’s risked my colleagues’ lives needlessly,” Beau said. “But there’s still one thing I don’t understand. How has he managed to keep such close tabs on me? Carey threw him out of the club and even if he’s been watching me he can’t have managed that twenty-four hours a day.”

“And how did he know that that the sub social would take place at The Marmalade Factory?” Marty blurted out. “He has to have a connection here at The Underground.”

“I think we need to talk to Carey,” Heath said. “Maybe he can help.”

Becket slipped from his seat. “I’ll go and find him. I’ll order another round of drinks and snacks while I’m there.”

“I’ll help, Sir.” Christian followed him, leaving Beau, Marty, Heath and Aiden together.

Marty snuggled as close as he could get to Beau. “This is a nightmare, Sir, but I can understand how someone could get obsessed with you.”

“The only stalker I want on my tail is you.” Beau stroked his hair.

A low chuckle drew Marty’s gaze to Heath.

“You two are good together,” Heath said. “Perhaps it’s true what they say—that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

“I’d prefer not to test that premise too often,” Beau said wryly. “On a more pleasant subject, I should thank you for your invitation to the party at The Edge. We’re thrilled to be coming.”

“It’s going to be quite the weekend. It’s hard to believe that Joe and I have been in business together for so long. So many of our friends have been through hard times in the last couple of years, it’s a good opportunity for us all to let our hair down and celebrate.”