Original Justice (Justice Brothers Book 4) Page 8

  It all began on the sidewalk outside the club.

  He and Alex arrived together following a heavy-duty massage that left them both physically loose and mentally blissed. The seafood dinner and half a bottle of tequila probably helped a bit too.

  They found Cameron and a hungover St. John huddled by the club’s entrance. Rafe was pacing back and forth in a passive-aggressive way that made people swerve clear of him.

  Sawyer, the fuck, was sidewalk haggling with the club’s gatekeeper. The first thing Parker noticed was the wad of cash passed hand to hand.

  They exited their taxi and did a shoulder shrugging, head nod greeting. He looked around. Only Domineau was missing.

  Right on cue, as if she was waiting for them all to be in place, a taxi pulled up, and she climbed out. Parker wondered what the movie term was for that moment in films when the holy shit happened. If that was the money shot, then Domineau Rivera stepped into the spotlight in a way that made six grown men gasp and stare like teenagers ogling the prom queen.

  The standard desert war zone wardrobe consisted of khaki stuff, grey, and lots of black, vests, tactical gear, and boots designed to kill. All things Rivera rocked with ease. She was one of the guys in that regard.

  But the person who climbed from a car and stood on the sidewalk was no one any of them had ever seen.

  Well, maybe Rafe had but none of the rest of them.

  The whole package was astonishing, but nothing was more gob smacking than the cascade of sun-streaked dirty blond hair flowing freely around her shoulders when they were used to seeing it scraped tight against her head.

  She had on a black tank top, nothing flashy and probably something she wore underneath her clothes on the regular, but just like seeing her hair and Domineau showing any skin at all got a double take.

  A pair of form-fitting black pants that showed off curves he didn’t know she had made Parker jolt. But two things sent him into a confused tailspin. A full face of expertly applied makeup and a pair of red stilettos.

  His eyes flew to Rafe who looked like he was about to explode.

  Next to him, Alex muttered disagreeably, “Aw, fuck. This can’t be good.”

  Sawyer went into diva overdrive and just about lost his fucking shit right there on the sidewalk. Parker thought it weird that Domineau was letting him get away with an outrageous display of sexist over-flattery until he saw what was going on. She was rubbing Rafe’s nose in it, and because that wasn’t enough to guarantee mayhem, Parker had agreed to play a part in her farce.

  Dammit.

  The drinking began as soon as they entered the club.

  BDSM clubs and sex dungeons were disturbingly commonplace in DC. His introduction to an infamous Dominatrix was the result of a highly inappropriate hazing slash initiation he’d experienced when his tenure at the DOJ began. So, for the most part, the place wasn’t a surprise.

  Their first stop was at the bar where an attendant introduced herself and explained her duties. Her club name was Candysweet, and she was there to ensure everyone’s pleasures were served.

  Alex looked at him and rolled his eyes. Words didn’t exist for how fucked they were, so they placed a drink order and started pounding ‘em down.

  He’d explained to his friend before they arrived that he was on duty with Domineau. Alex looked surprised but suggested he be ready for anything.

  Candysweet started them out with what Parker and Alex knew was the shit called the kiddie rides. Tame stuff that wasn’t very interesting. Viewing rooms for naked pole routines and lap dances.

  Domineau was pounding shots of iced Sambuca that she followed with a vodka and seven mixer. It was a weird situation, but he rather enjoyed listening to her opinions about the club and what they were seeing. As a result, he picked up a couple of real significant things about the mysterious Domineau Rivera.

  There were those who saw a six-foot-two female in Army boots with a helmet hairstyle and thought she was a lesbian. It was inevitable. Most guys were stupid when it came to this stuff.

  If they didn’t think lesbian, the next assumption would be that she was a Domme.

  It took Parker no time at all to realize that she was neither, plus she had no interest whatsoever in any of the scenes where the female was either sadistic or totally in control.

  Color him surprised.

  Another surprise revelation for Parker was Jason Cameron’s reaction to the raunchy field trip. As a lawyer, he’d seen his share of cool characters, but Cam was setting the bar higher. Not only did he seem bored, but he was also more interested in wondering whose ass he could kick than in the fucking and sucking going on all around them.

  St. John was the first one to join in. Of course, he was. Alex groaned when Candysweet asked for a volunteer to test a recruit’s oral skills. To be honest, Parker wasn’t totally sure whether Draegyn stepped up or Cam pushed him forward, but in either case, he was whisked off to a private room, and at that point, the gloves came off, and shit got real.

  They separated as a group. He stuck with Domineau as he watched Alex wander off to check out a Shibari rope scene. Cam shrugged and doubled back to the bar while Sawyer picked one of the club’s submissives and took her down a long, dimly lit hallway.

  Roman stuck close to him and Domineau. Those two had a running commentary going on.

  And where was Rafe? In the shadows, snarling and dogging every step they took.

  They got shooed out of a scene room when Domineau scoffed a bit too loudly and told him and Roman what she thought about any activity, vanilla or otherwise, that required so much lube. Parker was pretty sure Roman’s internal struggle was the same as his when she went off—do not fall over laughing.

  Things got interesting in a hurry when they found themselves in the whip studio. A small group had formed in a loose semi-circle around a massive wooden X. Along the back wall, an assortment of whips and ropes of varying lengths and for multiple purposes hung.

  His eyebrows shot up. Parker liked a good Western bullwhip. He grew up around that shit and learned how to handle a whip in summer camp. Had a trophy and everything.

  He noticed Roman’s immediate interest.

  And Domineau noticed how both reacted.

  So did Candysweet.

  Ushered to the front row of the assembled audience, Candysweet continued to explain the upcoming scene and what to expect.

  Domineau was the most relaxed of the three of them. Parker was a bit put out by how cool she was, but when she crossed her ridiculously long legs and drew his eyes to the red shoes, he laughed to himself when her foot started wiggling. He gave her mad props for hiding her reactions better than he and Roman did.

  Roman also appeared rather blasé about the whole thing, but he wasn’t fooled by the nonchalant posture.

  This was what he did. Study people. Bishop was just as interested in the lash scene as Parker was.

  A guy with a theatrical swagger appeared in the shadows and moved to the wood structure. He led a naked woman into the spotlight using a leash attached to bondage cuffs secured around her wrists. The crowd instantly perked up, and he felt a current of interest circle the room.

  Domineau’s foot stopped wiggling, and Roman sat forward.

  He studied the technical difficulty of the scene as it unfolded. After removing the leash, the woman was told to stand on a visible X on the floor and prepare to take the Dom’s lash.

  A couple of sex tourists behind him snickered when the woman meekly obeyed. In short order, the naked woman’s ankles were cuffed and tied to the legs of the wooden X. She raised her hands above her head, and he swiftly attached each cuff to a rope that he adjusted until she was on her toes with legs spread.

  The studio wasn’t large, but the tall ceiling gave the whip master plenty of space. He stood off to the side, behind the woman, and warmed up. Each crack of the whip made the waiting woman flinch.

  It started simply. The guy was really good and knew his stuff. Parker enjoyed the opening lashes that
wrapped in lazy circles around the woman’s body. He knew how to do that. As a kid, they had learned to wrap a telephone pole with easy side strokes. The memory made watching the woman tremble somehow easier.

  When the lazy circle strokes changed to cracking lashes, he got concerned. Nothing about what he was seeing turned him on. Not at all. The woman’s terrified whimpers sounded overly loud in the enclosed space. Her screams when a particularly brutal lash struck her body made Parker sick. It wasn’t until he was at the point when he was absolutely sure he couldn’t take any more that the fierce lashing finally stopped.

  A layer of sweat covered the whip master. He rubbed his hand over his crotch and laughed. Undoing the woman’s restraints, he put her face down and on her knees positioning her in a way that gave the audience quite a vantage point. Ugly red welts covered the woman’s back and ass, but when the Dom put his hand between her legs and grunted, Parker felt real surprise. Surprise that anyone would find such sadism arousing.

  The guy lowered behind her and fucked so hard the sound bounced off the walls. The audience murmured their approval. He wasn’t sure if he was appalled, disgusted, or intrigued. Maybe all three.

  The finish was pure performance. She came and wet the floor underneath her. He slammed into her like a machine and ended with a grunting, bucking tour de force that deserved a porn video.

  When he withdrew, he slapped her ass and walked away, leaving her exposed, and visibly fucked.

  Some of the audience moved forward for a better look. He shrank back and wondered how fast his feet would carry him to the bar. He needed a drink.

  But instead of the bar, Candysweet showed them to a private lounge with a mini bar and a whipping pole. The single column had a large brass eye hook at the top. A nasty looking cat o’ nine tails plus half a dozen whips and floggers were displayed on a table next to a large box of lube and condoms.

  They got shit-kicking drunk and acted like imbeciles. At one point, Domineau shrieked with laughter as she chased Roman with a flogger. The whole thing was a farce of epic proportion.

  How he and Roman ended up comparing notes about their boyhood bullwhip experiences was a mystery, but once they started talking, they lost control of the situation. The drinking continued as he and Roman took turns demonstrating their skills.

  Parker was vaguely aware of Rafe coming and going from the room several times. Cam too but he was uninterested and left them to their fun. Alex wandered in and sat down. After a bit, Drae showed up.

  Through all this, he and Roman were having one hell of a good time trying to best each other. He was having fun. The guy had killer control—even drunk.

  It all would have been fine if it ended there, but easy and uncomplicated just wasn’t in the Team Justice mission statement.

  Domineau started giving Roman a raft of shit. She wanted to try out the whip. Not wielding it. She was curious about being on the receiving end.

  At first, Roman laughed her off, but the more everyone drank, the more their common sense took a hike. Not just Domineau and Roman. All of them.

  In a scene from a very badly acted B movie, Domineau kicked off her heels and wiggled out of the tight slacks. The fact she wore butt floss as lingerie barely registered through their alcohol haze. When she whipped off her top and went to the pole, Parker watched it all unfold as though it was happening somewhere else instead of in the same room.

  Drae shouted insults at Roman when he fumbled at tying her hands above her head. That part was funny. Parker high fived the snotty prick once or twice.

  Alex had a classic Alex non-reaction. He was drunk, so that was part of it, but the wait and see option was his usual go-to. Until the guy reacted one way or the other, he was hard to read.

  Roman warmed up, and some part of Parker’s booze-addled brain realized then that this probably wasn’t a good idea. But he took another drink and said nothing.

  It was all goofing around and fun and games at first. Domineau was hilarious in the beginning. She played her part well. But then shit went a bit off kilter. She taunted Roman, and he responded by stopping the lazy body wraps and went with something way more spirited.

  The more excited things got, the more she barked, “Harder you pussy!”

  Too much whiskey coupled with her eager participation explained why Roman took it too far. Hell, they both took it too far.

  She taunted and teased. “Be a man, Bishop! Show me what you got.”

  A series of whip cracking lashes turned things serious. One second, they were fooling around, and the next, Domineau was screaming at the top of her lungs with several nasty looking welts crisscrossing her ass. Roman dropped the whip.

  He and Alex leaped out of their seats and ran forward. A loud thump and a grunt behind him made Parker turn around. St. John must have stumbled over a chair because he was face down on the floor with his feet tangled in the furniture.

  They got her hands untied at the exact second Rafe came barreling through the door with Sawyer at his side. The expression on his face told Parker he was right outside the room and had heard Domineau’s screams.

  The big man took in the scene and strode into their midst. He grabbed Roman by the neck and tossed him into the air like a rag doll. The menacing growl Rafe turned on him and Alex made both of them freeze.

  Rafe covered Domineau’s skimpy underwear with his hastily removed shirt. She fell into his arms, and he picked her up. Snarling at them, he turned and walked out of the room.

  They were all so stunned by what had happened that nobody moved a muscle for several tense moments. Sawyer recovered first and helped Roman off the floor.

  Drae remained on his ass, cross-legged and just staring.

  Candysweet in her ridiculous hooker stilettos came running with Cam right behind her.

  “What the fuck happened?” Cam growled. “Rafe just kicked a bouncer in the nuts and went running out the door with who I assume was Domineau clutched in his arms.”

  Parker’s legal mind kicked in. Several things were happening at once.

  Alex elbowed him and said, “Take care of this.”

  Cam was escalating because that was what he did. Parker considered laying him out with a right hook to keep things from getting worse, but luckily, Drae slapped the guy on the leg and asked for help getting up.

  Glaring at Sawyer, Parker harshly bit out instructions. “Shut Miss Candy Cane down. Throw money at it if you have to. We’ll be leaving now. Out the back door. Make it happen,” he growled.

  Twenty minutes of utter bullshit later, they were standing in an alleyway with Roman muttering about apologizing to Domineau while Alex scraped his hand back and forth through his hair. He was pacing and looked ready to throttle someone.

  Sawyer took off to find them a ride after having to lay down a wad of cash to keep the club from making the scene they caused even worse.

  Cam stood in the middle of everything with a dark scowl and a fist at the ready.

  Rafe and Domineau were nowhere around.

  Only in Bangkok could a grown man walk around shirtless with a half-naked woman in his arms and have nobody say a word about it or barely give them a second glance.

  He had a hard time remaining in control after rescuing Domineau from the whipping room. Roman was lucky he hadn’t rearranged his ugly fucking face for what he’d done. It didn’t matter to him that she had asked for it and orchestrated the entire scene.

  Rafe wasn’t sure which of them was the most fucked. Her for trying so hard to act like some steel-skinned badass or him for caring about her so damn much.

  Marching through the hotel lobby with an air that dared anyone to question him, he cleared an elevator with one menacing look and whisked her to their floor. He took her into his room and placed her gently on the bed—on her side. She pulled her legs up to curl in a ball but grimaced and stopped.

  Some part of him wanted to kill Roman. The part that let this happen. The part of him that had deep feelings for Domineau but was unable to crack throu
gh the fearsome wall she’d built around her emotions.

  He stood over her and rubbed his head. He had to assess her injuries—if that was what you called them—but he wasn’t entirely sure how much she’d allow him to help.

  “I need to see,” he said in a voice that sounded way too harsh.

  She didn’t move. Or respond.

  “Domineau, please. Let me see, so I know what to do.”

  Her hands moved. She tried to sit up. “Why are you here, Rafe?”

  “We both know the answer to that,” he murmured.

  Sitting must not have been a good idea because she grunted, moaned, “Aw, shit,” and leaned to one side, resting on a forearm.

  One time in the middle of a hellacious gun battle, he saw her calmly double-tap a bad guy before running straight into a kill zone to pull a Marine to cover. He remembered thinking at the time that her breathing had barely changed. She was an iceberg when shit got real.

  But at the moment, he was witnessing the iceberg’s opposite. The woman he’d gotten an intimate glimpse of last night.

  She was trembling. With her hair down and a complete mess, it was hard to see her whole face, but he glimpsed enough to know she was biting her lips and panting.

  “Are you mad?”

  Where the fucking shit had that question come from? Was he mad? Seriously?

  “Yes,” he growled. “No. Shit, I don’t know.”

  She nodded—it was unlike her to accept such a pathetic non-answer. She reached for the shirt but groaned and shook her head.

  “You’ll have to help me.”

  He started forward but stopped. “First, tell me why.”

  “I don’t know,” she grumbled. “Look, are you helping or not?”

  Getting the shirt off became an ordeal when he accidentally scraped his fingers over a particularly nasty welt.

  He caught her studying his expression. She frowned when he met her eyes.

  “It’s not Roman’s fault, so don’t start sizing him up for a body bag. Blame me if you have to. I pushed him. We were all drunk, and shit got out of control.”