At quarter past ten that evening, Garrett was reclining on one of the couches watching the door. He’d gone for the full-on Dom look this evening and was wearing a pair of black leather pants with some shit-kicker boots and that was it. He wasn’t wearing his hat so the video feed would catch his face.

Tension riddled his form at the coming inquisition. It was necessary to clear his name and free himself from Gail’s clutches but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Spencer sat on the opposite end of the couch, similarly dressed but he was far more at ease than Garrett. Then again, it wasn’t his ass on the line if they weren’t able to garner a full confession.

The private room was arranged with restraints and Spencer’s flogger. All their closest friends were present, standing in as props. That was one of the reasons Garrett loved it here: the friendships he’d made through Spencer and the club were the family he’d built.

With a look at Spencer, he nodded toward the club entrance where Derrick was escorting Gail over to them. Gail had dressed as skimpily as a person could without being naked. Some of her sheen, the polish that had attracted him all those years ago, had fizzled. There were signs that gave away her age, even with all the plastic surgery he knew she’d undergone. The handkerchief-sized black leather mini-dress fit her body like a second skin.

She had a sly, come hither smile over her red lacquered lips. It was supposed to make her look like a sex kitten. It made him want to vomit. All he saw was the black heart underneath the fake beauty. And it made him realize just how sheltered and insulated his life had been before her advent into his world. That was the only reason he could think of why he’d fallen for her act—well, that and he had been eighteen and thought with his dick.

“Hello, lover,” she purred.

Garrett tasted bile on his tongue but schooled his features so that they didn’t display his disgust. “That’s Sir to you. Have a seat.”

Her braying laugh grated on his nerves as she dramatically sat with a flourish. If he weren’t so furious he would have applauded her theatrics.

“In here, you will not speak unless permitted. Otherwise you can leave and I will make sure you are barred from my hotel,” he commanded.

“But the tape?” She tsked.

“Is lies, and you know it. Now hush. I’d like you to meet Spencer.” He nodded toward his friend.

And Spencer, bless the man, didn’t miss a beat. He slid an arm around Gail’s tiny waist and tugged her over beside him. “You weren’t kidding, she is downright fuckable,” Spencer said.

Gail simpered at the praise and pressed her body up against Spencer.

“Garrett said you like it rough,” Spencer said. “That true?”

“Yes, Master Spencer. I’ll do whatever you want me to,” she replied.

At her response, Spencer shifted her body so that she was on his lap with her back against the armrest and she was facing him.

“Spread your legs for me, like a good girl,” Spencer ordered.

Garrett watched, forcing himself to look like he was interested in the play that was occurring. But Spencer portrayed his part to a tee and slid his hand beneath her lace panties. Gail’s back arched and her mouth opened in pleasure as Spencer fingered her.

“Hmm, such a pretty cunt. All wet and juicy. Ever had two men in here at the same time?” Spencer asked.

“No,” she replied with a deep, throaty moan, writhing against his hand.

“Would you like to?” Spencer asked.

Gail’s eyes glazed with lust at the prospect and she whimpered, “Yes.”

That was his cue. Garrett stood.

Spencer withdrew his hand from her pussy and held his fingers up to her lips. “Lick them clean like a good girl. Then we’ll take you into a private room and fuck you—together.”

Gail was thoroughly aroused. Then again, she’d always been this over-sexed, willing to do anything for a good fuck, being. Garrett hadn’t been lying about the fact that when she’d first made an advance and propositioned him, she’d blown his mind, quite literally. She voraciously sucked her fingers, looking at Spencer like he was a new play toy.

“Good girl,” Spencer said, then placed her on her feet. He rose behind her, slid his arm around Gail’s waist and shot Garrett a glance to confirm that everything was proceeding as planned. And he was right; so far, the execution of it had been flawless.

Garrett trailed behind them, thankful for small favors and his best friend. Talk about taking one for the team.

Spencer led Gail into the prepped room and, being the Dom that he was, took charge. “Strip and stand at the foot of the bed for us,” he ordered.

“Yes, Sirs,” Gail murmured, only too happy and aroused not to comply.

But it was Spencer who did all the heavy lifting. Once Gail was naked and by the bed, Spencer restrained her, using the wooden posts, shackling her arms and feet so that her body resembled an X.

“Now, girl, before we get started, I just want to confirm that you are willing to submit to me, to us. I’m going to warm up this pretty ass of yours with a good old-fashioned flogging. And then we will both fuck you. Is that what you want?” Spencer asked.

“Yes, oh god, yes. I want that,” Gail said.

Garrett almost grinned. They had her consent, on camera.

Spencer ran a hand down her back and smacked her ass, then said, “I just need to know your safeword, and then we can begin.”

“It’s pink,” she said with a breathy whisper and Garrett knew from experience that the way her voice sounded meant she was near climax already.

“Good girl. Pink it is,” Spencer said, then began to methodically flog Gail. Her whimpers and moans filled the room.

Spencer was truly a master at work. Even if what he was doing repulsed him, it didn’t show on his face. And he allowed Garrett to hang back and study his technique. It was flawless. He knew just the right amount of pressure and force to use behind each strike.

Gail was caterwauling up a storm. Her moans filled the room. Her body tensed and she screamed as she climaxed. But Spencer didn’t stop taking her body up peak after peak.

Garrett had always known Gail was a painslut. Seeing the evidence of it, knowing that they would use it against her in the end, was a kind of karmic justice.

“Gail, sweetheart,” Spencer murmured loudly.

Gail’s head rested against one of her arms and she sagged against the restraints. “Hmm,” she replied.

“I’m going to ask you some questions and if you answer them for me then Garrett and I will fuck you,” Spencer said enticingly, coming up behind her and running his palm over his handiwork along her back.

She moaned. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Now did Garrett really rape you in that video?” Spencer asked.

“No.” She sighed.

“Did you ask him to do a rape fantasy with you?”

“Yes,” she replied, her voice distant and blissed out.

“Then why did you film him?” Spencer asked.

“For money,” she admitted so blithely she probably didn’t realize that she was making a full confession. And it was all on camera.

This was going better than Garrett could have anticipated as she admitted that she’d recorded him and all the guys she’d been with so she could get money from them or whatever favor she needed.

This bitch was going down.

Cora drove to the nightclub as if there were wings on her car. Call it divine intervention or whatever, but she was even able to find a close spot for her mom-mobile. She didn’t enter through the front of the club but via the employee entrance that was an elevator from the first floor down to the basement. Her cousin also had a private elevator that ran beside this one which went directly to what had been his place on the second floor until recently.

She rode the elevator down, her stomach churning. Was Garrett here with another submissive and about to cheat on her? Had everything he’d told her been a lie to butter her up? Doubt clouded her soul as she stepped off the elevator.

There was some death metal music belching out through the speakers. She had tunnel vision as she walked down the short hallway, past the locker rooms for attendees and into the main club. Her gaze searched the people present. For a Friday night, the place wasn’t overly packed. It wasn’t even busy by weeknight standards. Something felt off, although it could be her emotional turmoil making her believe that. But it was odd that there were so few people here tonight.

Hell, last Friday, there hadn’t been an open seat and tonight a person could take their pick.

And then she spotted Garrett as he stood up from one of the couches. Her breath stuttered in her lungs. His bare back was to her. That sexy, sinful back she adored. Gone was his hat, and he wore a pair of black leather pants that fit his body like a glove. She hated that at the mere sight of him, her body warmed and softened. She feared that he had ruined her for the rest of the male species.

Then she spied a blonde woman standing beside him in a postcard-sized black leather dress. But it was the second man who rose from the couch who took her already battered heart and obliterated it. Spencer.

When Spencer slid his arm around the blonde and led her toward the private rooms in back, with Garrett following a step behind the duo, she thought she was going to be sick. She had to be seeing things. Spencer wouldn’t betray her like this, would he?

“What in the hell are you doing here?” a male voice growled.

She swiveled her head only to find Matt glowering down at her.

“I’m a member as an employee and can attend whenever I’m off duty,” she said firmly, proud of herself that she hadn’t dissolved into tears. Those would come. Bucketloads of them. But the ill feeling had begun shifting toward rage. She didn’t normally get angry and if she did, she tried to diffuse it before she went off. Yet in this moment she embraced her fury.

“Go home, Cora. That’s an order,” Matt snarled.

“Seeing as I’m not on the clock, you can’t order me around. Lay a finger on me and I will scream so loudly the crowd upstairs will hear me,” she said, riding her power trip.

“Spencer’s going to be pissed.”

“Ask me if I give a shit. Now step away from me, Matt, if you know what’s good for you. Otherwise, I will take out a full-page ad in the Jackson Hole Tribune so that everyone knows exactly what the owner of Mountain Top Fitness is into,” she threatened—but she’d do it too.

“You wouldn’t.” His eyes narrowed. “You’d never find another job in Jackson if you pulled a stunt like that.”

“You want to bet your gym on that? Try me,” she said. Her voice didn’t waver, nor did she flinch. Damn Doms thought they were above the damn law and could treat people like they were there to grovel at their large feet. As it was she’d be tendering her resignation to the gym next week as she made arrangements to move herself and Milo to Arizona.

Matt backed down. It was the first time she’d seen that from him. But he said as he stepped back, “There’s no talking you out of this. I don’t even think a little discipline would do it. Just don’t get into anything.”

Then he stomped off and began slamming around the bar. She’d gone and poked the constipated bear and made him angry. Good. She wasn’t a child to be talked down to.

Acting like she was there to just have a bit of fun, she headed over to a far table near the doorway to the private rooms and sat down. She pretended as if she was watching the scene on the St. Andrew’s Cross instead of keeping her eye on Matt. The moment he wasn’t paying her any attention, she would head back to the private rooms and find Garrett. She had to see for herself—more than she had already—that he was cheating on her, and with her cousin’s help.

She felt sick all over again as she waited. During the drive there, a part of her had already resolved herself to the fact that if Garrett was cheating on her, she didn’t think she wanted to stay in Jackson. She’d begun building castles in the air where he was concerned. And having to see him at the club would break a part of her, the part of herself she’d fought so hard to keep alive after Jeff died—her belief that her life hadn’t ended because his had. She could already feel her heart aching over the coming loss. Could feel that part of herself retreating inside.

Matt had given up and was no longer paying attention to her—much. When he glanced away, she made her move and hot-footed it past the doorway into the hallway. Now all she had to do was figure out which room they were in. The first two rooms the doors were open and barren inside except for the furniture. She came to the third one. That door was shut.

She gripped the handle and took a few deep breaths. Did she really want to see Garrett screwing another woman? She had to know one way or the other. Feeling a bit like Pandora, she turned the handle and silently pushed the door open.

Her heart dropped into her toes. She blinked and shook her head, trying to dispel the sight that greeted her. The blonde woman was naked and restrained to the bedpost while Spencer flogged her. Garrett stood waiting in the wings, like he was waiting for his turn.

Cora froze as the woman’s moans rose in crescendo. Words were falling from her lips but Cora couldn’t hear what she was saying above the buzzing in her own head. Here was all the proof she needed. The betrayal slashed her clean through the chest as if she’d been stabbed through the heart with a sword.

Her vision blurred, and she touched her face only to realize she was crying.

She must have made a sound because then Garrett whipped his head around in her direction. Storm clouds entered his visage. He glowered. “What are you doing here?”

“I trusted you.” She backed away, shaking her head, her tears falling so fast and furious they nearly blinded her. “Both of you,” she added raggedly. With a strength borne of desperation, Cora spun on her heel and raced back down the way she’d come. Matt called after her as she sprinted to the exit. She stumbled a bit when she hit the stairs, but clung to the railing as she ascended and escaped the club.

She didn’t remember the drive home, which was probably a bad thing. She headed inside, trying to pull herself together and falling miserably.

Inside her house, Rayna took one look at her and said, “Oh sweetie,” before hugging her and letting her cry on her shoulder.