Headlines & Deadlines (An Avery Shaw Mystery Book 7) Read online

  “Marvin? I’m going to hate this, aren’t I?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me.”

  I told Eliot about Marvin’s visits to The Black Hole, wrapping the narrative with the fun fact about Adam Grisham’s ownership and frequent visits. When I was done, Eliot looked as if he was struggling not to laugh.

  “Marvin goes to a BDSM club to find women to dominate him?”

  “He says no one has expressed interest,” I said. “I told him I don’t believe that. He’s a walking doormat. I think something else must be going on.”

  “While I appreciate the story, and I do want to be updated on this case because I’m afraid you’re going to get in over your head like you always do, I’m not sure how this affects me,” Eliot said.

  “Well … .”

  “No,” Eliot said, immediately starting to shake his head. “We’re not going to a BDSM club.”

  “You don’t have to go,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “I can go alone. I’ll only be an hour or so. I should be fine.”

  “You’re not going either.”

  “I have to go,” I said. “Fish said someone has to check it out and since it’s my story … .” That was a total lie and I was worried Eliot would call me on it. Worse, I was worried he would call Fish to verify it and then I would be in real trouble.

  Eliot pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated. “Why can’t I have a normal girlfriend?”

  I’d already won. I knew it. “Thank you.”

  “How do you know I’m going to go?” Eliot asked, scorching me with a look. “Do you think you’re so cute that I’m simply going to fall at your feet and agree to visit a sex club?”

  “I think you’re going to agree to go because you don’t want me to go alone,” I replied. “The idea of someone other than you trying to dominate me at a sex club is going to drive you crazy. You know I’m going no matter what. That means you’re either going to let me go by myself or go with me. There’s no way you’re going to let me go alone. We both know it. Are you honestly telling me you’re going to pretend otherwise?”

  “You’re not going,” Eliot said. “I’m not going either.”

  “I’m going.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Do you think I should wear black leather or is that simply asking for trouble?”

  “We’re not going to a BDSM club.” Eliot was firm. “It’s not going to happen. Get it out of your head right now. There’s no way it’s going to happen. Period!”

  “I CAN’T believe I let you talk me into this,” Eliot grumbled, slouching his shoulders and moving closer to me as a woman in a steel-studded, red leather bustier looked him over from farther down the bar.

  After an hour of my arguing, an hour of pouting, and then an hour of begging, Eliot was exhausted. He knew I had him. There was no way he was going to leave me unprotected in a place like this. It severely undermined his negotiation position, but I gave in to all his demands – including going to a country western concert in the summer – so he could feel he had some control over the situation. I figured I could dream up a way out of the concert when it drew closer, and I wasn’t above faking PMS to do it.

  “We don’t have to stay long,” I said, scanning the dark club with what I hoped was a neutral expression. I’m not going to lie, the place freaked me out. The booths were upholstered in red velvet, the lights were unnaturally dim and everything smelled like sweat. I didn’t know this much black leather existed anywhere outside of a Fonzie convention. “I only need to see if Grisham is here.”

  “You realize people are looking at us like we’re fresh meat, right?”

  “To them that’s exactly what we are.”

  “I want to beat you,” Eliot grumbled.

  “We’re in the right place.”

  “I can’t even look at you,” Eliot said, lifting his eyes to find a gathering fan club over my shoulder. “Oh … crud.”

  I followed his gaze, swallowing my laugh as two of the women bent their heads together and smiled in Eliot’s direction. “Do you want me to fight for your honor?”

  “If anyone approaches me you’d better fight for my honor,” he said. “I feel … dirty. We’re taking the world’s longest shower when we get back to your house.”

  “I don’t think showering together is going to cut down on the dirty factor.”

  “You’re enjoying this way too much,” Eliot said. “Doesn’t this bother you? Look over there.”

  I followed his finger.

  “That guy is attaching a leash to that woman’s collar,” Eliot said. “He’s leading her toward one of those little rooms over there. What do you think they’re going to do in there?”

  “I think they’re going to play a really interesting game of Red Rover,” I replied, nonplussed. “Do you think he’s going to swat her with a rolled-up newspaper?”

  “I hate you right now.”

  “Then go wait in the car,” I said, glaring at him. “I’m not going to be able to do any snooping if you’re complaining all night.”

  “I’m not leaving you in this place,” Eliot shot back, narrowing his eyes as a bulky man in jeans and a leather vest paused to look me over. Even if we weren’t in a sex club I wouldn’t be interested in his beer gut … and wicked leer. “She’s not open for offers, buddy.”

  I pressed my lips together and shot the man an apologetic look. “He’s really controlling.”

  “You’re not wearing a collar,” the man pointed out. “That means you’re open for offers.”

  Huh. I guess I wasn’t up on The Black Hole etiquette. “I’m allergic to collars.”

  “That’s not a thing,” the man said.

  “If she says it’s a thing it’s a thing,” Eliot said, puffing his chest out in warning. “She’s … mine.”

  “Then you need to put a collar on her.”

  “I’m going to put a boot in her ass instead,” Eliot countered. “Stop looking at her.”

  Despite the club’s theme, Eliot and I opted to wear our normal clothes. He was dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and a raggedy flannel under his coat, and I wore jeans and my “First Intergalactic Pimp” Lando Calrissian Star Wars shirt. I thought it would help me fit in. Truthfully, though, we didn’t have anything in our wardrobes kinky enough to disguise ourselves and I wasn’t up for a weekend trip to Lover’s Lane.

  “Hey, we’re both doms here,” the man said. “I’m not trying to steal your slave.”

  “Hey!”

  Now it was Eliot’s turn to smirk.

  “I am not his slave. I’m his … partner.”

  “That’s not how it works here,” the beer barrel gut said. “You’re either the dominant or you’re the submissive. He doesn’t look like anyone’s submissive. That means it has to be you.”

  I couldn’t decide if that was an insult. “I … .”

  “She’s with me,” Eliot said, cutting me off. “Get away from her or I’m going to make you my submissive. Wait … I didn’t mean that the way it came out. Let me rephrase that. I’m going to beat your ass … not with a sex toy or anything … oh, this night sucks.”

  “Dude, I’m not into anything kinky,” the man said, making a face. “You two are sick.”

  Once he was gone I fixed Eliot with a sympathetic look. “We should’ve come up with a story before we came here,” I said. “Now everyone is going to think you’re up for weird threesomes.”

  “Avery, you’re on my last nerve,” Eliot complained. “I came to this club to make sure you didn’t end up in one of those little rooms on the end of someone’s leash.”

  “Oh, please,” I scoffed. “I would never let that happen.”

  “These people don’t listen to the word ‘no,’” Eliot said. “It’s a turn-on for them. Of course, you don’t listen to that word either, so I don’t even know why we’re having this argument.”

  “Eliot, I’m sorry I made you come here,” I said. “We should go. I’ll have Marvin bring me here later
in the week.”

  “You will not. Marvin isn’t capable of protecting you in any situation let alone this freak show.”

  “That’s not what I was saying,” I said, tugging on my patience. “I meant that Marvin could be my submissive and we would fit in better. It’s obvious both of us want to be in charge and that’s why we’re drawing so much attention.”

  “We’re drawing attention because I’m hot,” Eliot countered.

  “What about me?”

  “You’re sexless to me right now. Even thinking about doing … that … with you in light of where we are – and how these people are looking at us – makes me feel filthy.”

  “I think you’re overreacting,” I said. “These are consenting adults. If they want to get their freak on, who are we to tell them they can’t? Oh, holy hell, what is that?”

  Eliot glanced in the direction I gestured, his forehead wrinkling as he tried to decipher what he saw through the gloom. “I think that’s a riding crop.”

  “Is she going to spank … yup, she’s spanking that guy. Wow. Can I do that to you?”

  Eliot made a face. “I have to get you out of here. You’re losing your mind.”

  “I’m not saying it turns me on,” I said. “I’m just saying … wow … she’s really going for it.”

  “That’s it. We’re going.” Eliot grabbed my hand and started moving through the crowd. I considered arguing with him, but the scene was getting to me, too. “We’re never doing anything like this again. Ever. I’m the boss. You’re going to listen to me for once in your miserable life.”

  “You tell her, man!”

  I had no idea who urged Eliot on, but the accolades didn’t have the intended effect.

  “You shut up, too,” Eliot barked, jerking my arm to force me to his side. He pulled me in front of him, using his body to shield mine before pushing me through a group of curious men. “There’s nothing to see here!”

  “He’s just taking me home and punishing me,” I explained, playing to the crowd. “I think there’s going to be whips involved.”

  “Shut up, Avery,” Eliot hissed. “I … what are you looking at?”

  I lifted my finger to my lips, silently admonishing him to quiet down. He followed my gaze with his angry brown eyes and frowned when he saw the schlubby man in the corner romancing a willowy blonde. The man wore track pants and a matching jacket, while the woman sported a low-cut red dress sheer enough to let everyone know she wasn’t wearing a bra … and that she had nipple rings.

  “That’s Adam Grisham,” I said, my voice low.

  Eliot stilled, keeping his arm around my waist. “He doesn’t look like he belongs here.”

  “Neither do we.”

  “We don’t belong here,” Eliot said. “I’m all for getting freaky, but I’d rather watch you dress up in Princess Leia’s slave outfit from Return of the Jedi than hang out here.”

  “I see you’ve given this some thought,” I said dryly.

  “Once I found out you were a Star Wars geek that was all I could think about,” Eliot said. “You know you can buy those outfits online, right?”

  “You don’t know Sith if you think you’re going to get me in that slave outfit,” I shot back. “I’d rather dress as an ewok.”

  “If that does it for you. What is he doing?”

  “It doesn’t look like as though he’s in mourning, does it?”

  Eliot pressed me closer to the wall, positioning himself so his arms were placed protectively on either side of me while he watched Grisham play master of the house with his new friend. “I know people grieve differently, but who goes to a BDSM bar to pick up a woman the night after he finds out his wife is dead?”

  “A guilty man.”

  Eliot glanced down at me, all anger and argument absent from his features. “What do you want to do?”

  “I want to watch him for five more minutes and then leave,” I said. “I don’t want him to see me.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want to tip my hand that we know what he’s up to,” I explained. “All I wanted was confirmation that he comes here.”

  “Marvin told you that,” Eliot pointed out.

  “I love Marvin,” I said. “He exaggerates, though.”

  “Like when he told you that the former governor wanted to rock his world?”

  “Exactly,” I said, leaning forward so my chin rested on Eliot’s arm. “Look. He’s taking her into that little room over there. It’s different from the other ones. That must be his private … den.”

  Grisham’s hands were busy – and full of submissive tush – as he pushed open the door. The woman giggled as he shut them in, closing out the rest of the world.

  “Can we go now?” Eliot asked.

  “Yeah. I think I owe you a shower.”

  “You owe me a lot more than that, Trouble. We’ll start there, though.”

  “Where are we going to finish?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  Eliot smiled, the expression slow and seductive. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  Actually, I was fine letting him lead the way – but only for tonight. What? He earned it … and sometimes I like being lazy.

  Ten

  “You scrubbed your skin so hard it looks like hamburger,” I said, smirking as Eliot pulled a T-shirt over his head and settled next to me on the couch. “Do you feel better?”

  “Compared to what?” Eliot was grumpy. I couldn’t blame him. I’d forced his hand and made him go to a BDSM club. If the tables were turned, I’d be angry, too. He didn’t have to be such a baby about it, though.

  “I won’t be asking you to go back to The Black Hole with me,” I said, flipping through the channels idly. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “You’re not going back either,” Eliot said, leaning back on the couch and focusing his grim gaze on the television. “We’re not watching that.”

  I made a face. He was starting to get on my nerves. “What is your problem with Alien?”

  “This isn’t Alien,” Eliot argued. “This is Alien Resurrection. It’s crap. All sequels are crap.”

  Those were fighting words. “What about Aliens?”

  “That one is okay,” Eliot conceded. “However, the first Alien was a horror movie. Aliens was a science fiction movie. Other than Sigourney Weaver, they’re practically different franchises.”

  He was in a mood. “What about The Empire Strikes Back?”

  “That was part of a trilogy so it doesn’t count.”

  “What about Fast Five? Catching Fire? Friday the 13th Part 2 … and Part 4 … and Part 6?”

  Eliot rolled his eyes. “The Fast and Furious movies are … fun but stupid. You only like them because you have a weird thing for Vin Diesel and The Rock. Don’t bother denying it. The Hunger Games is also a trilogy. As for Friday the 13th, that whole franchise is littered with duds.”

  “Fine. What do you want to watch?”

  Eliot grabbed the remote and started surfing channels, ultimately landing on a basketball game. This was a test. We both knew it. I like professional sports – except for golf and baseball, which I only watch when I’m looking for something to lull me to sleep – but everyone knows professional basketball is worth watching only during the playoffs.

  “This is what we’re going to watch?”

  “Do you have a problem with it?”

  “Yes.”

  Eliot shifted his eyes to mine, his face unreadable. “Tough.”

  “Is there something you want to talk about?” I asked, knowing I was opening a can of worms no one wanted to look in. “I get that you’re angry. I do. I shouldn’t have taken you there.”

  Eliot sighed, running a hand through his damp hair as he pursed his lips and decided how to respond. “Do you think I’m angry because you tricked me into going to a BDSM club?”

  “I didn’t trick you,” I argued. “I told you I was going and gave you the option of going with me.”

  “You put me in a position in whi
ch I had no choice,” Eliot said. “We both know I wasn’t going to let you go alone. That’s not why I’m angry. In fact, if you want to get down to the nitty-gritty, I think tricking me into going with you was a step forward for us.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The old you would’ve lied and said you were going to Lexie’s yoga studio … or Carly’s house … or the library. You told the truth. Yes, you knew you were manipulating me the entire time. I knew you were manipulating me, too. But I’m glad you told me the truth.”

  “So why are you pouting?”

  “I’m … worried,” Eliot said.

  “Do you think I’m going to dump you for one of those balding, middle-aged dudes with the pot bellies and impulse control problems?”

  “No.”

  “Why are you worried?” I was genuinely at a loss.

  “You have a tendency to get obsessed with things,” Eliot said, wagging his finger to stifle me when I opened my mouth to argue. “You get obsessed with Star Wars. You get obsessed with video games. I know that when you get a new video game that I have to give you huge blocks of time to play or you’re going to be a bear. It’s a quirk, but it’s one I can live with. I find it cute.

  “What I find less cute is when you become obsessed with Tad Ludington … or a recent murder story … or something that could put you in danger,” Eliot said. “I don’t want to change you. I like you the way you are. I also don’t want to get a call in the middle of the night and hear that something has happened to you. I think it might kill me.”

  He was earnest, his face calm and collected, but I could feel the underlying tension in his frame. “That could be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me,” I said. “I can’t change how I feel, though. I want to bring Tad down. I want to find out who killed Julia Grisham. I know you don’t believe this, but I don’t purposely go looking for trouble.”

  “Actually, I do believe that,” Eliot said. “I don’t think you want to get hurt. I don’t think you want to be in danger. I do think you get a thrill from ticking people off, but that’s a whole other argument. I need you to be careful. If you’re not going to do it for yourself then you have to do it for me.”