Lucas Cameron briefly wondered if the massive dude who’d been sent to pick him up was also there to assassinate him. He wouldn’t put it past his father to do the deed, and naturally when work was rough, his father hired out.

“You coming?” The guy had to be at least six and a half feet of pure muscle, and he was not happy about his assignment. He glanced down at the sign he was holding. “This is you, right?”

Lucas frowned. The sign stated plainly that this man was waiting to pick up one Douchebag Cameron. “That’s not my name.”

Cool blue eyes looked him up and down. “Hey, buddy, I’m not the one wearing skinny jeans. You want a ride or not because I’m perfectly fine leaving your ass here. I’ve got better shit to do with my time than favors for Julian Lodge.”

The man actually turned and started walking away.

Shit. This was not going the way he’d thought it would. He was supposed to be able to make his threats and get his money and stroll off into the sunset. For good. Forever.

Or until he needed money again. He hadn’t counted on an asshole of a driver. He jogged after the man, though that wasn’t the easiest of tasks because of the aforementioned skinny jeans. His friends claimed they were all the rage, and he couldn’t possibly be caught dead in something unfashionable.

There was only one way to deal with this—brazen through. He strode beside the big driver. “I don’t care what you do with your time as long as you get me to Lodge and quickly. I don’t want to waste more time than I have to here. I’m needed back in LA.”

A total lie, but then he was a total lie, wasn’t he?

The big guy stopped at a truck. “You really doing this?”

“Going to a meeting with Lodge, yes.”

“I meant attempting to blackmail two of the most powerful men in the state of Texas.”

Lucas pulled his sunglasses off. “I’m going to have to have a long talk with Lodge about what it means to be discreet. Who the hell are you? You’re obviously not his driver.”

“For now I’m his errand boy,” the man grumbled before taking his keys out of his jeans pocket. “Yeah, that’s what happens when you take on investors. They turn into assholes who expect you to work for free. So I’m the guy who will be driving you to Lodge’s place. I’m also the one who is currently running a very invasive investigation into all the details of your life, and if you don’t choose wisely, I’ll be the one who deals with you. I swear, I’m going to find a couple of morons to train properly and give them to Julian so he doesn’t call me every time shit goes bad. Now get in the truck and maybe rethink some of your life choices. Starting with that hair.”

The lock popped open and Lucas had to decide. Did he get in with the crazy asshole? Or run?

Fuck. He couldn’t run. He didn’t want to run. He wanted someone in the fucking universe to take him seriously.

He wanted to meet his brother.

Screw that. He wanted what was coming to him, and this big Viking motherfucker wasn’t going to stand in his way. He climbed up into the cab.

Cool blue eyes met his as he slid into the seat beside the dude who was probably at one point in time a psychopathic killer.

Damn, but he was hot. Like super hot.

The man’s lips curled into a smile that kind of made Lucas’s heart rate tick up. Maybe he did have a death wish because he was a little breathless looking at the man.

“I’m flattered, but I don’t swing that way, kid,” he said, holding out a hand. “Name’s Taggart. You can call me Tag. I need to introduce you to Adam. You two have a lot in common. Flippy floppy hair and bad life choices.”

He flushed and looked straight ahead. “You’re very arrogant, Mr. Taggart. And I wasn’t looking at you. Not in that way.”

Taggart turned the engine and started out of the parking lot. “Sure you weren’t. One of the things I happen to know about you is you’re positively fluid when it comes to your sexuality.”

“You want to call me bad names, do it. You can’t say anything I haven’t heard before.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I don’t care who you fuck as long as they say yes. That’s your business. What I am saying is if you have a brain in your head, you’ll turn this moronic blackmail attempt into a family reunion and you might, just might find a blood relation you don’t want to murder.”

“You know so much about my family,” he grumbled.

“Like I said, the report my firm is writing is super invasive. Your dad is an asshole.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Barnes isn’t an asshole. He resembles one sometimes but he’s actually a good man. You are not as sad sack and pathetic as you appear to be. So take my advice and turn this thing around,” Taggart said.

“Or you’ll do what?”

“Nothing for now,” the man replied. “But you can’t imagine there won’t be fallout. Even if you managed to come up with a way to force a man like Lodge or Barnes to actually cough up the cash, do you think there won’t be repercussions?”

“I think there better not be if they want to keep their reputations intact.” What was he doing? The guy was making sense, but he couldn’t wimp out. After all, this was exactly what his brother had done to their father.

Stop. He had to stop thinking of Jack Barnes as his brother. He had to stop being that dumbass kid looking for someone in the world to give a shit about him. He had to be stronger than that. It was time to stop looking for someone to take care of him and take a tip from his father’s bastard. It was time to take care of number one.

“Okay. I get it. This is one of those things you just have to do,” the big guy said with a sigh as he stopped at a red light. “But the next time Lodge needs someone to deal with you, I’m sending the crazy Irishman out. He needs to work through some of his shit, if you know what I mean.”

Okay, maybe he wasn’t so hot. And Lucas probably didn’t want to know what the crazy Irish dude would view as therapy. “I don’t and I think it’s best that you do your job and drive. I don’t need advice.”

For a moment, Taggart was silent. He glanced over to get another look at the man. Nope, when the man wasn’t talking he was hot as hell. Lucas had to wonder if he was a Dom at The Club. A few moments ticked by and he couldn’t help himself. “Is it a real kink club?”

“No.”

That was disappointing. “Oh, my reports said it was quite notorious.”

“It’s rich-people kink. It’s all pretty and shit, but it’s too elegant for my tastes. And who calls their club The Club? What the fuck kind of name is that? Lazy. Or it’s a dude who seriously wants to fuck with someone’s brain. It’s like who’s on first.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Who’s on first? The old Abbott and Costello joke. Like ‘hey, you going to the club? Which club? The Club? Yeah, which club?’” Taggart huffed a little. “You know once I think about it, it’s kind of mean. I like it now.”

“What’s the difference between rich-people kink and poor-people kink?”

Taggart’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, but there was no way to miss the air of satisfaction around the man. He was proud of what he was talking about. “One is in a luxury hotel and the other is in a shithole downtown because that was all I could afford. Businesses are fucking expensive, hence the reason I’m schlepping you around like I’m Lodge’s Sherpa. It’s going to take a while, but I’ll make it something special. And mine has a cool name. Get this—The Retreat.”

Finally something the man was one hundred percent wrong about. “That’s a stupid name.”

Taggart turned to him, his eyes chilly. “No, it’s cool and meaningful.”

“It means run away from war.” What was the guy thinking? “Unless you have a spa in there. It’s a great name for a place where you can get your nails done or run from the enemy.”

That seemed to stop the big guy in his tracks, though the truck kept right on moving. “Huh, I hadn’t thought of it that way. I guess it kind of is. Not the nails thing. It kind of is a retreat from battle. We’re pretty fucked up at this point. I started the place because we have nowhere else to go.”

“Lodge won’t let you in his club?”

“Too fucking expensive for my blood right now. I put everything I have into McKay-Taggart. Everything Alex had, too. We rock, paper, scissored for whose name goes first. I was surprised. I thought he always picked rock. Luckily none of the others has money or we’d be some weird-ass long lawyer-sounding name. That’s the company, but we need someplace we can build that’s personal, too. You know how when the shit hits the fan and everything is ashes, you need to start over again? That’s how it is with us. We need to build something or we’ll burn everything down. You, obviously, are taking the second path.”

Was he? Taggart was right about one thing. Everything around him was ashes. “What went to shit for you?”

“Everything. Personal life. Career. All gone. And it happened to my friends, too. So we’re building again with Lodge’s and Barnes’s help. But this time we’re doing it together. This time we’re not breaking up and expecting shit to work. Because it didn’t. Between my best friend and my brother and his old Army buddies, we’re a sad sack lot. I can’t even tell you what happened to the Irishman. Seriously, I can’t. It’s classified and shit. So we packed up and moved here. I figure I can either give them a place to be or I can watch them burn out one by one.”

Who would care if Lucas burned out? Not his so-called friends. Had he ever had someone who cared about him enough to build a sanctum for him? A place for privacy, a sacred place.

Huh.

“You should call it Sanctum. That’s a better name.”

“Sanctum?” Taggart started to pull onto the freeway. “I like that. Hold on.”

The truck veered and Lucas felt himself smash against the seatbelt.

“Oh, motherfucker,” Taggart was saying, but the truck slammed into the side rail and Taggart hit the brakes.

A car flew past them.

What the hell had just happened? Lucas took a deep breath. “I think that car intentionally hit us.”

“Or he’s an asshat,” Taggart replied with a groan. He had his cell phone out. “I’ve got to call Lodge and tell him he’s buying me a new truck. Damn it.” Taggart pointed a finger his way. “You use this special time we’re spending together to make my life easy. Change your fucking mind about blackmailing my investor.”

He hit a button and started talking. If Taggart was any more polite to the man who’d invested millions in his company, Lucas couldn’t tell. He was as sarcastic as he’d been the whole trip.

And it didn’t matter what he said, because there was no backing out now.

Lucas knew one thing about this world—there was no sanctum for him.

 

* * * *

 

Abby felt her eyes widen and her mouth drop as Sam walked out.

“Wow.”

She’d seen Sam look yummy before, but this was ridiculous. He was wearing black leather pants with a snowy white dress shirt open at the throat. He’d left several buttons undone, showing off his perfectly cut chest. The leather was tight and looked good against the black motorcycle boots on his feet. His blond hair curled perfectly right below his ears, giving a hint of softness to the square line of his jaw. He was devastatingly masculine, and she wondered why they were bothering to leave the room at all.

Sam turned around, giving her a perfect view of his tight backside. “You like?”

She walked up and cupped those muscled buns. “I love, and you know it.”

Sam turned and pulled her close, returning the favor by sliding his hands down to her ass. A small smile curved his lips up. “I’m glad you like it, baby. This is pretty much the way the Doms dress down in The Club.”

“Is it the way you used to dress when you worked here?” She was curious about Sam’s time here. She’d heard a bit about what Jack had done when he’d worked at Julian Lodge’s club. Jack had been the resident Dom. He’d played out scenes with submissives and trained clients who wanted to become Doms or Dommes. Jack knew exactly how much pain to give to enhance a sub’s pleasure. She knew less about what Sam had done besides his job as a bartender.

“No, I wore way less.” Sam smirked a little bit. “I almost never wore a shirt back in those days.”

“And pants?”

“Optional on some nights.”

Abby wrapped her arms around his waist. “Tell me something, Sam. Who tipped better, men or women?”

He seemed surprised for a minute, and he tensed up briefly. He almost immediately laughed it off. “Men. Men were definitely better tippers.”

He leaned over and kissed her. Abby went up on her tiptoes to press her mouth against his.

“They’re used to paying for sex.” She thought about the way Julian Lodge had practically eaten Sam up with his eyes. “Did Julian tip well?”

Sam stared down at her for a moment. “Julian didn’t tip, but he paid well. He was my boss.”

She didn’t quite buy that. There had been an awful lot of tension between Sam and the club owner.

“Was he your boss, Sam? Nothing more?” She put her hand on his chest to stop him from turning away. “Don’t. You don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to, but don’t think I’m judging you. I love you. I’m just curious. And besides, you know how perverted I can be. If you have sex stories about that scary man, I want to hear them.”

“Abigail, you dirty girl, I did not have sex with Julian Lodge,” Sam protested with a prolonged sigh.

“Oh, well, I can fantasize.” Abby stared up at him. “He wanted you, though?”

Sam grew still. “When Jack told him we were leaving, Julian called me into his office. I thought it was strange because he didn’t pay a lot of attention to me. He was close to Jack, not me. I went, though. I was curious.”

Abby could see where this was going. She’d seen the way Julian Lodge stared at Sam. “He asked you to stay with him.”

“Yes,” Sam agreed quietly. “He saw straight through me. He knew I wanted more from Jack than I was getting. He told me that if I stayed with him, he would make sure I got everything I needed. He promised to take care of me. He promised to be a permanent master for me.”

“You said he never kept a submissive for long.” Abby was surprised. She’d expected that Julian wanted Sam. She hadn’t expected he’d discussed anything permanent.

“He said he was willing to sign a contract. If he wanted out, I would get a good percentage of his wealth. I guess it was kind of like a pre-nup. I don’t know what he was thinking, Abby. I knew what I wanted.”

“And you didn’t want him,” Abby surmised.

“No. I tried to tell him I wasn’t gay. I didn’t care that he was. That’s a person’s business, but I wasn’t. He laughed and told me I was fooling myself.” Sam’s voice was low. He looked down at the ground. “Abby, I’ve never slept with a man before.”

Abby smiled at him. This was not news to her. “That’s because you only want one.”

“Yeah, but I want him. What does that make me?”

“Oh, baby, it makes you Sam.” She looked deeply into her husband’s eyes. She was only five years older than Sam, but in some ways she was worlds wiser. She’d learned to forgive herself for being human a long time ago. “You love Jack. There’s nothing wrong with that. If you wanted Julian, there wouldn’t be anything wrong with that, either. I don’t care who you wanted in the past, Sam, as long as you want me now. As it happens, I want the same thing you do. I want the three of us together in every way.”

“But he doesn’t want that,” Sam said sadly. “I think I’m the reason he’s pulled away from us. That kiss we had, it threw him off. He hasn’t touched me since. We’re only in the same bed together because you’re in between us. We have to face facts. He’s never going to want me the way I want him.”

Abby didn’t believe that for a second. She remembered the night of that fateful kiss. Jack hadn’t held back. He hadn’t turned away in disgust. He’d known how turned on Sam was, and it hadn’t bothered him.

“Abby, do you think he wants me to leave?”

“No, I don’t. You’re not going anywhere without me, Sam Fleetwood. And we’re not going anywhere without Jack.” It was time to move the night forward. They would both be miserable if they just sat up here wondering what Jack was doing. It was time to figure out if they needed to move on. Jack was going to react, or he wouldn’t. If he was mildly annoyed and asked them to go home, she would know that it was over. If he called for that public punishment Julian had mentioned, well, she would cross that bridge if she came to it. “Show me The Club, Sam.”

“All right.”

It was so obvious he was reluctant to follow through with this plan, but he took her hand all the same and led her out of the room. They got on the elevator. It was small and every wall was covered in mirrors. Abby smiled. This was the most decadent place she’d ever been in.

“Hey, hold the—” a masculine voice shouted.

The doors closed, and Sam made no attempt to stop them. He grinned down at her. “He can get the next one, baby. I want you all to myself.”

Sam pushed a series of buttons.

“Are we going to all those floors?” Abby wondered exactly what Sam was planning to do.

“No, it’s a code to get to the club level of the building,” Sam explained. “Everything is done to protect the clients’ privacy. If we weren’t staying in the hotel portion of the building, we would walk through the lobby properly dressed, get into the elevator, punch in the code and go to the club level. Once there, we would change clothes in the dressing rooms and get checked in for the night. There are all sorts of security measures to help ensure that the public doesn’t figure out what goes on in here.”

“Why so secretive?”

“Because there are a lot of public figures into this lifestyle. When I worked here, there were politicians and judges and media people. It could hurt them professionally to get caught in a sex scandal. I know you love a good sex scandal, but I bet if feels different from the other side of the magazine cover. Did I mention how hot you look?”

She wrinkled her nose at him. She’d protested the clothes he’d chosen for her, but he wouldn’t move on the subject. She was wearing a scarlet red corset over a tight black miniskirt. She studied herself in the mirrors of the elevator. The corset did cinch in her waist, and her boobs looked pretty nice. She was wearing four-and-a-half-inch Valentino peep toes that gave her added height and made her legs look sleek. Her hair curled in soft waves around her face and she’d pinned a pretty white rose behind her right ear. She resisted putting on too much makeup. She wore only mascara and lip-gloss.

Sam reached up, brushing his fingers over the rose. “Where did this come from?”

“I found it on the dresser. I suppose Julian left it. Do you think it was for you or me?” The small white rose’s stem had been wrapped in satin and cut so it could be used as a boutonniere or a corsage. Or woven into long hair.

Sam frowned for a moment. “No note or instructions?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“Then it’s definitely for you. You’re my beautiful Abby,” Sam whispered. He dropped a kiss on her exposed shoulder. “I’m proud to show you off.”

She smiled as the doors to the elevator opened. Despite everything she’d said to Sam about not being hungry, she had been watching her weight much more closely. She was married to two men who were five years younger than she was. Jack and Sam were prime specimens. There wasn’t an ounce of fat between them. It was hard for her to look in the mirror and truly see what they saw in her. She remembered that moment when Jack had told her not to be so hard on herself. She knew he’d meant well, but it was such a turnaround from the way he’d handled her before. Before he’d come home from the hospital, if she had called herself fat, she would have found herself over his knee for insulting something Jack considered his.

When she thought about it, how much did she honestly know about Jack? She’d only known him for six weeks before she married him. What if this was the real Jack? And if it wasn’t, who could she blame for his withdrawal? Certainly not Sam. Jack and Sam had lived together in harmony for roughly seventeen years before they met her. Any way she considered it, she was the one who upset this particular apple cart.

What was she going to do if Jack was tired of her? Could she leave them both behind if Jack didn’t want her anymore? The thought of going back to a life without them was more than she wanted to contemplate.

Sam pulled her out of the elevator. “Stop worrying. This is our night. Don’t think about anything except relaxing and exploring. We can do anything we want to here and no one will think less of us. They’ll just cheer us on.”

She squeezed his hand. The freedom The Club offered sounded enticing. “All right.”

It would be nice not to think about the future for one night. She glanced around the room she found herself in. Her shoes sank into the thick carpet beneath her. The area was lit by a chandelier, and there was a small desk in the corner. A large man in a business suit sat at the desk with a computer in front of him. He was still. Abby wondered briefly if he played solitaire while he waited for the elevator to open.

“I’m Samuel Fleetwood. My membership ID is 5772356.”

The big man’s fingers carefully punched in the numbers. “Good evening, Mr. Fleetwood. Welcome to The Club. Do you require anything? I must warn you all the private dining rooms are full.”

“No, thank you, we already ate,” Sam replied politely.

“Then please enjoy your evening.” The host gestured to the door.

She let herself be led toward the inauspicious door. She looked all around, well aware she probably seemed like a tourist. “I guess I expected something a bit raunchier.”

“This is the lobby.” Sam stopped. “Are you sure you can handle this? This is really hardcore.”

She gave him her patented stare. He wasn’t buying it for once.

“Baby, just because you watch a whole lot of HBO doesn’t mean you’re ready for this,” Sam said not unkindly.

But there was no way she was turning back now. She wanted to see this place. She’d lied to Julian earlier. If he’d kicked them out, she wouldn’t have pressed Sam to find another BDSM club. She was interested in this one for the simple fact that it had such an impact on the two men she loved. They had matured in this place. It had been their home, their first real one. She had to see it for herself.

“You forget, I also read,” she said with a confidence she didn’t feel. She couldn’t help but think about Julian Lodge’s words. She would have walked in with Jack and not felt a moment’s worry. Sam would defend her to the death, but no one would even question Jack.

“All right, let’s go.” He took her hand and led her out of the lobby.

Abby walked through the small door and entered a different world.

 

* * * *

 

The elevator doors closed, and Jack felt his irritation rise. Was it so difficult to hit the open door button or put a hand out to stop it from closing? When he had a talk with the guy in the Platinum Suite, they would also cover a little thing called common courtesy.

Jack pressed the button, and after a few moments, got in the elevator. It was a short trip to the lobby. He tried Abby and Sam’s cells one more time. His prior understanding with them was rapidly dissolving into irritation. What were they thinking not answering their damn phones?

“Sam, you call me when you get this. Do you understand? I’m damn tired of talking to your voice mail.” He shoved the phone into his pocket.

The elevator opened, and Jack walked into the lobby. Immediately the lobby manager was on his ass.

“Mr. Barnes.” The older gentleman was dressed, as were all of Julian’s people, impeccably. “Mr. Lodge is running the slightest bit late. Please join Mr. Slater in the waiting room. Can I get you a drink?”

“Scotch, neat.” He was not looking forward to his evening. There had always been some curiosity in the back of his mind about his half-siblings. He wasn’t sure, but he thought the senator had two sons and a daughter. The curiosity was completely idle and he’d never intended to satisfy it. He didn’t need to know them. He had a family. He had Abigail and Sam and his stepdaughter, Lexi. Who knew what the future held? Maybe Abigail would want another child. Maybe he could be a father.

A vision of her with a baby in her arms assaulted him.

He swallowed at the thought. He couldn’t handle a baby. He couldn’t handle a child. A child was small and fragile. Children died. They got hit by cars, and they fell a lot. And women still died giving birth sometimes.

A sudden overwhelming panic hit him like a freight train. His peripheral vision started to fade.

“Mr. Barnes?”

He shook off the feeling and shoved his hands in his pockets to hide the fact that they were trembling. “I know the way. And make that Scotch a double.”

He strode into the elegant waiting room where Slater was waiting. The campaign manager had a glass of red wine before him on the table. Jack didn’t like the officious prick, but now he was a nice distraction from the dark thoughts in his brain.

“Good evening, Mr. Barnes.” Slater didn’t stand, merely inclined his head politely.

Jack nodded and took a seat across from him.

“I wonder what could be keeping Mr. Lodge,” Slater murmured. “You don’t think he’s down in that club of his?”

Jack huffed, completely unsurprised that the unctuous weasel had no idea who Julian Lodge was beyond being a man who ran a sex club. “He’s probably dealing with investors. I know they used to keep him on his toes.”

“People invest in sex clubs?”

“Yes, actually.” He didn’t bother to mention that he’d invested in several on Julian’s advice. A few weeks before he’d invested in a new security firm run by a bunch of ex-Special Forces members that he firmly believed would turn a nice profit in a couple of years. “They also invest in real estate, stocks, and new businesses. Julian Lodge runs a group of investors that finds small companies with good ideas and gives them a bankroll to become big companies. Have you ever heard of the Masters Fund?”

Slater’s eyes grew round. He took a careful sip of his wine and then placed it back down. “Of course I have. So Julian Lodge is one of the investors in the Masters Fund?”

“No, I’m an investor. Julian runs the fund. Masters is simply an inside joke.” He called it that because the entire group was made up of rich Doms and Dommes from his club. Jack smiled slightly as he remembered Katherine Johannsen’s protests that Mistress should be in there, too. The Domme always brought it up at board meetings, but she hadn’t gotten Julian to budge yet.

“That is impressive,” Slater noted.

Jack could see him calculating the best way to use the information.

A waiter brought in Jack’s double and quietly retreated. He took a thoughtful sip. This was one area in which Julian was right about insisting on the best. The Scotch was rich and flavorful. It was smooth. He made a mental note to ask Julian what brand this was. He decided to change the topic. Julian wouldn’t like the senator knowing too much about his business. “Why is Lucas doing this?”

Slater’s face flushed slightly. He was a pale man, and every emotion showed on his skin. He bet Slater couldn’t play poker to save his life. “I believe Lucas is doing this for attention. He does everything for attention.”

“From what I can tell, the boy doesn’t need any more attention,” he grumbled. “He’s on the covers of those magazines my wife reads. You would think he would want a little less attention.”

Slater’s mouth thinned. “Some people can’t get enough. Some people have to push the limits. Lucas won’t ever stop.” He leaned in, and Jack got the feeling he was trying to look concerned. “Lucas has a terrible addiction problem. He can’t stay away from drugs and alcohol. He’s been addicted for years. The truth, Mr. Barnes, is I fear for his life. One of these days, he’s going to overdose. Or he’ll do something foolish while under the influence.”

He took another drink of the fine Scotch and wished he hadn’t asked the question. The campaign manager’s voice was grating. He was starting to wonder why he’d ever thought it necessary to leave Abigail and Sam out of this. If they were here with him, at least he’d have something nice to look at. He could stare at his wife while everyone else was talking. Sam would say something ridiculous to make Jack laugh.

God, he had to figure this out. He had to make a decision and stick with it.

After that terrible day six months before, he’d made the decision to try to be less domineering. He needed to be easier on his partners or he could lose them. Abigail might find the whole submission thing fun for a while, but it would get old fast. He was a demanding man. He’d told Abigail he wouldn’t be that way twenty-four seven with her, and then immediately started making decisions for her. When he really thought about it, he’d been twenty-four seven with Sam for nearly twenty years. They simply didn’t have sex.

And why didn’t they? He asked himself the question as the other guy droned on about all the terrible things Lucas Cameron had done. It wasn’t like the idea was repulsive to him. He was a very sexual man. Though, for the most part, he preferred women, he’d had sex with men before. When he was younger, he’d experimented briefly. At some point he realized he preferred females. Except for Sam.

Abby wouldn’t mind, he mused as he felt a grin cross his face. He remembered the night he’d given her one request. She’d asked him to kiss Sam. Sam had been shy at first, though Jack knew he was open to the experience. He’d pulled Sam to him and pressed their mouths together. At first, he told himself he was merely indulging his almost wife. After about a minute, he couldn’t say that anymore. Sam was an intriguing mixture of soft and hard. His body and that outer armor he wore over his soul were rough and arrogant. The man inside was still looking for someone to take care of him. It brought out every dominant instinct in Jack. He’d taken care of Sam for years, but that one kiss made him wonder if Sam needed more.

If Sam wanted more.

“He’s not listening to you anymore, Slater.” Julian Lodge’s voice was highly amused. “It’s a talent of his. He can look as though he’s paying attention, but his mind is elsewhere. Believe me, I know. He honed the talent on me.”

Jack felt a smile split his face. “I honed it years before you, Julian. You should have seen some of my report cards from grade school. And I heard everything Slater here said. None of it was important to me.”

Julian sighed and sank gracefully into the seat beside him. He gave Jack a long-suffering look. “That’s because you’re not being very self-aware. The universe often puts us in situations that parallel important events in our lives.”

“Oh, god, this isn’t the karma thing again?” He prepared to go deep if Julian started a lecture on eastern religious practices. He’d just replay the last Longhorns game in his mind. How had it started? Yes, Texas won the toss and elected to receive.

Julian snapped his fingers. “I have often thought you would be an amazing practitioner of meditation, Jackson, if only you could concentrate on something other than sporting events.”

“Sometimes I concentrate on sex,” he admitted.

Julian shook his head toward the politico. “Never select a cowboy as your spiritual son. I offered him a world of wealth and power. He chose to hang out with cattle.”

Jack grinned and propped his boots on the coffee table in front of him. “Cows don’t ask my opinions about art or expect me to know which fork to use when I eat them.”

Julian threw back his head and laughed. “I missed you, Jackson. You misunderstood me before. I was merely pointing out that it is possible to learn something from the unfortunate Lucas’s current predicament.”

“Unfortunate?” Slater set down his glass with an outraged rattle. “How can anyone call Lucas unfortunate? He’s had every advantage.”

Jack pointed to Slater. “Sorry, Julian. I’m with him on this one. That little asshole is blackmailing me. You’re not going to get me to feel sorry for him.”

“See, now we are back to the karma thing. Must I remind you?”

He rolled his eyes. “That was different. You told me Cameron owed me. He was my biological father. I never did anything to this Lucas person.”

Julian shook his head. “Lay the concept of karma aside, Jackson. Do you believe Lucas is doing all of this because of his desperate need for people to think the worst of him?”

“No,” he replied edgily. He didn’t like where Julian was going with this. He did not have anything in common with Lucas Cameron. He wasn’t Lucas Cameron’s brother. He didn’t owe the little shit anything simply because they shared a biological father. “He’s doing it to get his father’s attention. If he can’t get good attention, he’ll take bad.”

“Rather like some subs I recently met,” Julian said enigmatically. “You might not understand karma, Jackson, but it certainly understands you.” Julian stood and gestured toward the elevator. “I believe our guest has been diverted momentarily. I was told there was some trouble with the car, a minor accident.”

Slater’s eyes widened. “Is he all right?”

Jack was surprised at how his heart sped up. Not much, but enough to let him know he wasn’t as cold as he thought he was about his brother. He remembered the idiot in the Platinum Suite had come on a motorcycle. He would discuss that with him, too. If he wanted to be a Dom, he needed to understand what he owed his sub. First and foremost, he owed her comfort and protection. He couldn’t do that if he was dead.

“He’s fine,” Julian was saying. “The driver I sent to pick him up is quite talented, but there’s only so much he can do. I’ve sent another car out. It appears to be an unfortunate episode of road rage. You know how the streets can be here. It’s rush hour on a Friday. Someone took exception to my driver entering the freeway. He was deliberately hit. Luckily he’s been well trained. He handled the situation with no injuries. The police are looking into it. It’s odd. Usually people try to kill Taggart because of his mouth, not his driving skills. Shall we start dinner? Lucas will be along shortly.”

Jack got up, but Slater sat there with a dumb look on his face.

“We’re not going into that club, are we?”

That eyebrow of Julian’s made another appearance. “We will be walking through the bar area of the club to get to one of the private dining rooms. How long have you worked in politics, Mr. Slater?”

“Thirty years,” Slater replied.

“Then nothing you’ll see in my club should shock you.”

Jack hid a small grin. Julian was working overtime to keep the condescension out of his voice. It wasn’t working. If there was one thing Julian despised, it was hypocrisy.

Slater stood and tried to look blasé. “I’m sure you’re right. I don’t have Mr. Barnes’s experience. I’ve never married, much less shared my wife with another man.”

Julian went still, but Jack laughed. He wasn’t ashamed. “Don’t knock it till you try it, buddy. My Abigail is far too much woman for one man to handle alone. I need Sam in order to keep her happy.”

Jack felt a small satisfaction at the other man’s slight blush.

Slater wasn’t letting it go. “I’m afraid I couldn’t get into bed with a naked man to save my life.”

Jack let his whole face go decadent. If that idiot thought he could shame him for not being vanilla, Slater didn’t know him at all. “You say that because you’ve never seen Sam naked. He’s a sight. Don’t worry. I won’t try anything on you, Slater. You’re not my type.”

Julian laughed as Jack walked toward the doors. Yes, he should have brought Sam and Abigail. Sometimes he forgot that they owed him comfort, too.