Rescuer (Doms of Mountain Bend Book 4) Read online

  Several members spoke up, offering their support for the project, and Clayton called for a show of hands. After everyone agreed, Neil asked, “What did the McCulloughs have in mind?”

  “They left it up to us. Sub auctions are popular, or a game night where you have to pay to play each one,” Shawn suggested.

  Ben’s interest perked up at that idea. “That could be fun. We’re good at getting creative, and, if we plan together, pool our ideas, we could come up with quite the variety.”

  Simon’s mouth tilted on one side. “I’m liking this more and more.”

  Dakota shifted his black eyes toward Simon. “Nothing too sadistic, Risch.” When the six-foot-four, quietest member spoke, everyone listened.

  Despite Dakota’s stern voice, Simon grinned. “I’m a pussycat.”

  Everyone chuckled at that since Simon was the strictest Dom and insisted any sub who scened with him adhere by all the rules, no exceptions. When Dakota didn’t lighten up, Simon dropped his smile, his gaze hardening. “C’mon, Smith. You know I’m careful and always respect their limits. You’ve just gotten mellow since you turned so protective over Poppy.”

  Dakota blew out a breath and grumbled, “You’re right. Sorry.”

  Ben had never thought he’d see the gruff Native American settle down with one woman, let alone demonstrate such worry and care over her. He almost felt sorry for Poppy, given the way Dakota hovered, but her feisty nature and stubborn streak ensured he didn’t trample on her independence.

  “It sounds like everyone is favoring a game night,” Clayton said. “Anyone who wants on the planning committee, let me know. Last order of business is a reminder of guest night next weekend. So far, we only have one signup, but that could change.”

  Drew Zimmerman stood and stretched, saying, “If too many more Masters follow you, Dakota, and Shawn into a committed relationship, there won’t be enough left to bother with holding guest nights.”

  Ben flashed him a grin. “You could ask Jen to let you fill in.”

  “Yeah, right,” someone muttered with a chuckle.

  Drew returned Ben’s teasing grin. “Since I’m as possessive of my wife as she is of me, I’ll leave the newbies to you.”

  “Speaking of which…” Shawn scraped his chair back as several women entered. “Ben, you’re up next as guide to our guest. Meeting adjourned.”

  Watching Shawn, Dakota, and Clayton greeting their girls, Ben experienced a familiar tug of loss. The connection that came with having someone in his life who knew him inside and out, someone he could talk to, turn to in need was what he missed most since Bart’s death. He hadn’t found that special affinity with anyone else; neither between him and any of his friends, nor with a woman. Not to say he didn’t have close male and female friends, and he’d certainly enjoyed the company of numerous women, along with their bodies, and, with some, their submission.

  But no one had come close to snagging his interest then ensnaring his emotions the way he and his brother had been bonded. His twin would have understood Ben’s anger on behalf of the elk’s suffering, his need to vent, lash out at the deliberate cruelty. They were both on the wrestling team in high school, and Ben had made the cut in college. Grappling with someone before showing up tonight would have gone a long way to ease his tense muscles from his still simmering fury.

  Ben rose as Drew walked over. “That’s no way to start the evening or the weekend. Shawn mentioned you came across an injured elk today.”

  “Not the best way to end the week, but I’ll get the bastard.”

  “No doubt. Everyone around here is all for the sport of hunting as it keeps the numbers down, and a conscientious hunter will harvest the meat. Not this guy, huh?”

  They started across the room toward the bar as Ben replied, “No, not this guy. On a happier note, I don’t believe I’ve congratulated Lisa yet.”

  Drew chuckled. “I recognize that smirk. Go for it while I escort Jen over to the new bondage chair. She mentioned how scary it looked.”

  Ben lifted a brow, his lips curling at the corners. “Now I can say I recognize that leer. I’ll try to come by and see how she fares. I haven’t seen the new bondage bed upstairs yet. Have you?”

  Shrugging, Drew scanned the open doors to the upstairs private rooms. “I haven’t gotten the chance. That room was booked solid last weekend and is again tonight. It has been ever since word went out about the new acquisitions in the monthly newsletter.”

  An hour from now, those doors would be closed, the rooms occupied by members who enjoyed watching but preferred privacy for their play. The addition of the second level had paid for itself with the influx of new members over the past months.

  “There’s Jen now,” Drew said when they reached the bar the same time his wife entered the club. He waved her over.

  Settling on a stool next to Lisa, Shawn’s girl, Ben lifted a finger to get the sheriff’s attention before focusing on his fiancée. “I hear congratulations are in order for you two,” he stated.

  Shawn approached and handed him his beer. He nudged his hat back with one thumb and eyed him, wearing a curious frown. “You already passed that on earlier.”

  “Not to Lisa.” Cocking his head, he waited for Shawn’s permission, which he gave in the form of a short nod and glint in the gaze he turned on Lisa.

  Her slim brows, two shades darker than her light blonde hair, dipped in a perplexed look. Then her green eyes widened as he leaned over, cupped her nape, and drew her toward him to meet his descending mouth. Out of respect, he kept it short, a slow brush of his lips over hers and an even slower taste of her plump, lower lip with his tongue before releasing her.

  Lisa turned her head toward Shawn, getting ready to question him when Ben brought her face back around using his knuckles under her chin. “Congratulations, Lisa. Master Shawn is a lucky man.”

  “Oh, well, thank you.” She narrowed her eyes at Shawn. “You could have said something.”

  “Where would the fun be in that?” he drawled.

  A sly look crossed her face before she slid off the stool. “You’re right. It was much more fun experiencing what a good kisser Master Ben is by getting taken by surprise. Thank you, Master Ben.”

  Shawn watched her stroll to a table and join Kathie and Poppy. “I have to remember she doesn’t like surprises.”

  Ben smiled. From what he’d observed, Lisa was a delightful sexual submissive yet no one’s doormat. The same could be said for the other two owners of Spurs about the women they’d recently committed to. It was as much fun to watch Poppy stand up to Dakota as it was to see her turn to putty when he bound and tormented her slender body. Clayton and Skye were still exploring their new relationship, but now that her memory had returned, she wasn’t as tense around him or others.

  Leaning a hip against the bar, Shawn eyed Ben with curiosity. “You’ve been quiet tonight. Anything on your mind other than the possibility of a sadistic hunter nearby?”

  “Don’t you have enough to deal with without probing for more?” Ben didn’t mind him asking since he was as close to a good friend as he could claim since Bart’s death, but that didn’t mean he wanted to answer.

  Shawn shrugged. “I’ve always got time for a friend, and I know this is a tough time of year for you.”

  “I appreciate that,” Ben replied, blowing out a breath.

  Mountain Bend hadn’t grown much in population in the last fifteen years, so almost everyone over the age of thirty remembered Bart’s tragic death at the young age of twenty-one. He could still recall the difficulty of going anywhere those first few months without getting stopped by well-meaning people offering condolences. The sharp twists of gut-wrenching pain he experienced for months afterward whenever he heard his brother’s name mentioned had lessened over the years but not the acute sense of loss.

  Determined to blow off his moodiness, he rose with a nod at Shawn. “Let me spell you early since I don’t have anyone waiting for me.”

  “If you’re
sure, I’ll take you up on that.” Shawn came around the end of the bar that ran along the south wall and clapped him on the shoulder as they traded places. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Will do.”

  What Ben needed, Shawn couldn’t provide, but he was grateful for the well-meaning show of support.

  Chapter Two

  Amie’s headlights picked up the Welcome to Mountain Bend sign late Saturday night, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She’d found driving alone down two-lane country roads after dark spooky, the small amount of traffic and vast openness unsettling, and the quietness eerie. There were a lot of rural towns in Nebraska, but she’d grown up in Omaha, a city of just under half a million, and was more used to city life. Boise wasn’t far, and she could have booked a place to stay there, but when she’d come across the tourist attractions in and around the area and the refurbished, Miner’s Junction Bed and Breakfast had popped up, she couldn’t resist staying in the quaint, century-old inn.

  As she drove past a newer housing area, she checked the GPS for directions to the bed-and-breakfast where she had planned for a month’s stay, wondering what she’d find to do in a town so small when she wasn’t working or searching for Cal. The private club, Spurs, was only open on Friday and Saturday nights, and she hoped to come across Cal there. If not, she would have to come up with a plan B, and it was always when she tried to improvise or fly by the seat of her pants without Myla that she landed in trouble. Since her best friend had always been around, or close enough to rush to her aid, Amie had never gotten herself into too much of a pickle, but taking off on her own to help the friend who had always been there for her was a first. She would need to tread carefully if she wanted to get back home unscathed.

  Winding her way through an older residential section, she found the charming wood-planked, renovated nineteenth-century home with no problem and pulled to a stop out front. The well-lit cobbled path leading up to the door cut through the darkness of her late arrival. Hoping the proprietor meant it when she assured Amie someone would be there to check her in around this time, she grabbed her purse and overnight bag, locked her car, and went inside.

  Just like on the website pictures, the foyer and wide staircase off to the side boasted the original dark-walnut woodwork, the vintage brass six-light chandelier above her shedding enough illumination to guide her toward the podium near a narrow hall. Tapping the bell, she waited for the footsteps coming down the hall to reveal a middle-aged woman wearing a white apron over a T-shirt and jeans, her rosy face smudged with a streak of flour.

  “Sorry, I didn’t hear the front door. You must be Amie Buchanon. I’m Grace Whitticker.” Grace blew a breath upward to slide some loose hairs out of her eyes, and, when that failed, she ran the back of her hand across her forehead, leaving another white smear.

  “I am. I’m sorry for my late arrival. Ms. Zimmerman said it would be okay…”

  “Oh heavens, yes. She and Drew are out for the evening, but me and my girls are always here until at least midnight preparing for the Sunday brunch that always draws a crowd.” Grace turned an open ledger around and handed her a pen. “Just sign in, and I’ll take you upstairs. The other three rooms are booked, so you’ll have some company come morning.”

  Amie appreciated the woman’s friendliness after her long, tiring trip. “I thought something smelled wonderful and assumed it was an apple-cinnamon candle or potpourri. Was I wrong?”

  “Afraid so. I just pulled a tray of apple cinnamon scones from the oven. You be sure to come down and go through the buffet in the morning. All breakfasts are included with your room, and that goes for the much bigger selection on Sunday. Here’s your key.” She handed over an old-fashioned, bronze skeleton key, and Amie loved the continued authenticity of the furnishings. “Do you have more luggage? I can send the girls out to get it.”

  “Please, don’t bother. I have all I need for tonight in this bag, and I’m too tired to unpack tonight. Thanks for the offer.” Picking up her suitcase, she followed Grace toward the stairs.

  “It’s quiet here at night,” Grace said over her shoulder as she started up the staircase. “You won’t have a problem sleeping. You’re the first room on the right, and each one has its own bath. The owners, Drew and Jen, live next door, but if you need anything in the next hour or so, come on down and follow the hall to the kitchen. If not, welcome to Mountain Bend and good night, dear.”

  “Thanks, Grace.”

  Amie let herself into the small room dominated by a four-poster double bed covered with an old-fashioned, handmade quilt in shades of antique-white, navy, and cranberry that complemented the wine-colored drapes at the narrow French doors and the matching carpet. Two bedside lamps cast an amber glow around the room. She placed her suitcase on the hope chest at the foot of the bed, extracted her toiletries, and padded into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. Ten minutes later, she slid into the bed with a sigh, turned off the lamps, and drifted to sleep hoping this trip and disruption in her life proved worth the effort and risks for Myla.

  There was nothing she wanted more than to return to Omaha with something concrete to take down Cal Miller for the pain and heartache he’d caused everyone she loved.

  ****

  A stream of early morning sunlight penetrated the white curtains hanging between the French door drapes, brightening the room before Amie was fully awake. Blinking against the glare, she glanced at the bedside travel clock, her eyes going wide at seeing it was already after nine. She never slept this late. As she rolled out of the comfortable bed, she wondered if exhaustion was to blame or the culmination of weeks of stress coming to a head. Whatever the reason, she stretched and went into the bathroom feeling pretty darn good.

  Amie stripped off her nightshirt and panties and took a quick shower, her stomach rumbling the whole time, reminding her how long it had been since she’d eaten. After blow drying her hair and scooping the thick, shoulder-length waves back into a wide clip, she slipped on her jeans and retrieved a knit pullover top from her overnight case. Since the sun was out, she hoped the temperature was doable for sightseeing around town on foot. She figured the more she got out and about, the better her chances of coming across Cal. Even though she knew he’d rented a cabin near the local campground closest to Mountain Bend, there was always the chance he would come into town to eat or get supplies.

  Her odds were much better for meeting him at the club, of course, but could it hurt to hope for a stroke of good luck? Between keeping up with her work and researching a lifestyle that held little to no interest for her other than as a means to an end, the next few days were likely going to fly by.

  As soon as she left her room, she smelled the enticing aromas from downstairs and heard the low murmurs of voices. Rounding the bend at the bottom of the stairs took her into the arched entry to the dining room. She recognized Jen Zimmerman, the proprietress, from her photo on their website when Jen looked her way and came toward her with a welcoming smile.

  “I heard you made it in with no trouble, Amie. I’m Jen, and that” – she nodded toward a tall man who was standing behind a small, corner bar – “is Drew. Welcome. Would you like me to seat you with someone or by yourself?”

  Amie eyed Jen’s black dress slacks, white blouse, and paisley vest and grew uncomfortable with her casual attire. “Maybe I should get my bags from the car and change first.”

  “Nonsense, you’re fine. Trust me, I’d be in my jeans if I didn’t have to play hostess. Look around. Some come casual, others in their church clothes.”

  She scanned the diners, noticing Jen was right. “In that case, I would prefer not sitting with strangers this time. I’m still getting my bearings. Thank you.”

  The hardwood floors gleamed under the white draped tables as she followed Jen to a table by one of the windows, not too far from the long buffet. “Oh my,” she mumbled as she caught a glimpse of the offerings steaming under heat lamps and the bread and dessert choices. “I can feel t
he weight gain already.”

  Jen laughed, brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “There are plenty of activities to help you work off the calories. As soon as it slows down, I’ll come back and tell you more about what’s available around here. Help yourself when you’re ready. Coffee, tea, and juice are at the beverage bar, and Drew is serving mimosas and Bloody Marys.”

  Amie nodded then made her way to the food. Picking up a small plate for salads and a larger one for the main courses, she shifted to the back of the buffet row and didn’t bother looking up before reaching for the scrambled eggs-and-spinach serving spoon. When her hand landed on top of a wide palm, her startled gaze traveled up the thick forearm sprinkled with dark hair, past a bulging bicep and broad shoulder covered with a worn denim work shirt. She had trouble swallowing past the lump in her throat as she took in a tanned neck, chiseled jaw, and dark-beard-shadowed cheeks before encountering a pair of amused, startling green eyes.

  Talk about eye candy. Yum. Heat stole over her face, and Amie gave herself a mental shake, jerking her hand back. “Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “No need to apologize.”

  His deep voice curled her toes, and Amie wondered why in Omaha, with its share of rugged cowboys, she’d never encountered one as instantly compelling as this man.

  Turning the spoon handle around, he gave her a slow, devastating-to-her-libido smile. “Ladies first. I’m Ben, and I’m guessing you’re a guest since I don’t recognize you.”

  Cocking her head, she took the spoon and scooped up some eggs. “Amie. Do you know everyone?”

  “Just about. One of the perks, and sometimes an annoyance of growing up in small-town America. Don’t pass up the hashbrowns,” he said when she handed over the serving spoon and took a step forward. “They’re from scratch, like everything else.”