Legal Page
Title Page
Book Description
Dedication
Trademarks Acknowledgement
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
New Excerpt
About the Author
Publisher Page
Burning Boundaries
ISBN # 978-1-78651-559-9
©Copyright Bellora Quinn and Sadie Rose Bermingham 2017
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright June 2017
Edited by Rebecca Scott
Pride Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Pride Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Pride Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2017 by Pride Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, UK
Pride Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
BURNING BOUNDARIES
Book two in the Elemental Evidence series
Their passion isn’t the only thing creating flames.
Mari Gale’s life has been a whirlwind since meeting Jake Chivis. A new job prospect and his mother’s health preoccupy him, so when Jake invites him on a date he’s ready to cut loose. Their night out turns into a nightmare when a fire breaks out in the basement of the bar and they barely escape.
Soon Jake learns that the horrific accident is being investigated as a possible homicide, and it’s not the only case. Detective Inspector Cordiline of the London Met hints at spontaneous human combustion, but as far as Jake knows, SHC doesn’t exist.
When Mari looks into a group called Birthright, he finds a connection to the victims of the fires and Jake risks himself to go undercover at the shadowy organization. The race is on to determine the truth before Jake becomes the next target.
Dedication
To R and X, love J and M…thanks for the inspiration, guys.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Tate Modern: Tate
Pierre Cardin: The House of Cardin
Superfly: Curtis Mayfield
Estrella: S.A. Damm
Alien: Twentieth Century Fox
Médecins sans Frontieres: Médecins sans Frontieres
Countdown: Channel Four Television Corporation
Fireman Sam: Bumper Films
Dark Knight: DC Comics
Cheerios: General Mills, Inc.
The X Files: Twentieth Television, Inc.
Harry Potter: J.K. Rowling
Yale: Yale University
Paul Smith: Paul Smith
Lamborghini Aventador: Audi AG
Battle Creek Enquirer: Gannett Company, Inc.
Calhoun County Journal: Calhoun County Journal
Force: The Walt Disney Company
Skywalker: The Walt Disney Company
Hogwarts: J.K. Rowling
Maserati: Maserati S.p.A.
Audi: Audi AG
Volvo: Volvo Group
Nokia: Nokia Corporation
Wi-Fi: The Wi-Fi Alliance
Kevlar: DuPont
Butlers: Red Carnation Hotels
Slinky: Poof-Slinky, Inc.
Prologue
“I’m late. I know. I am so sorry.” Doctor Ilmarinen Gale reached across the polished mahogany desk, still out of breath, to shake the proffered hand of the head of Internet Security at MI6. When that esteemed gentleman, Brigadier Edward Stern, gestured toward the vacant seat beside him, Mari sank into it like his strings had been cut, still babbling to cover his embarrassment. “There was some incident outside the Lithuanian Embassy. Lots of blue lights and police tape. We sat there for ages. Nothing was moving. My cab driver had to divert around the Tate in the end, and then we got stuck in nightmare traffic coming back along Millbank. Frankly, it would have been quicker to walk.”
“My grandfather had the pleasure of working alongside your great-grandmother at Bletchley Park. We’ve been most eager, here at Vauxhall Cross, to speak to the latest member of her Elemental bloodline,” the old man said with a genuine smile, making no reference to his tardiness or his breathless explanation. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, Dr. Gale. Professor Karden told us a great deal about you.”
Mari hoped he managed to keep the surprise off his face. His fingers twitched toward the lapel of his new Pierre Cardin suit jacket but he stopped himself from fidgeting and folded his hands back in his lap, pleased that the crisp blue linen had not crumpled in the unseasonal late spring heat.
“All good, I hope?”
“He had some issues with your timekeeping, Dr. Gale. But with the work you did for him? Yes, I think we can safely say, he was happy with that.” Stern chuckled and rubbed at his slim, gray mustache with the back of one well-manicured finger. “You know well enough that no one in Karden’s team is able to do the things with technology that you can. We were amazed that he was prepared to let you go, and very pleased that he referred you on to us. I head up a diverse, young team and they are already very excited about the prospect of working with you.”
“I’d heard you already had an Interface,” Mari ventured, put at his ease by the brigadier’s calm, informal manner.
“Had being the operative word, Dr. Gale.” Stern looked bitter for a moment. “She was poached by the Kremlin last June. Money outweighed prestige for her, I fear.”
“Ah… I thought I’d heard that there was a woman working for Six.” Mari nodded. “I’m not interested in going to Russia, by the way. Too bloody cold.”
Too bloody dangerous! his conscience added, in Great-Grandmama Amelia’s cut glass tones. Especially for the likes of you.
“I should hope not.” Stern fixed him with a shrewd gaze that reminded Mari of his paternal grandfather, a man he’d always been very scared of as a child.
He shifted in his seat, lifting one hand to smooth his already immaculate blond hair, then forced himself to be still. He was the UCL’s whizz-kid, not some teenager, fresh out of college.
“You got your PhD at Cambridge?” Stern observed, without referring to his notes.
“I did, sir.” Mari nodded. “I worked on the development of artificial intelligence in security systems. Our AIS programs have already been implemented by the Spanish government.”
“Hmmph. In my day, Cambridge was a hotbed of radicals and traitors.” Stern snorted dismissively.
Mari wasn’t sure what to say to that so he murmured, “I can assure you that isn’t the case these days, in my experience.”
The warning look Stern sent his way made his insides squirm again.
“SIS never did manage to prove that your ancestor was a double agent, Gale. That doesn’t mean that there won’t be people in the Service watching you closely. I’ll warn you once only that I want no such trouble from you,” he said.
Mari tried his hardest to look innocent. Inside, though, he was privately fuming at the suggested smear on his relative’s honor.
“Is that meant to be an incentive or a threat?” he wanted to know. “Amelia wasn’t a spy, Brigadier Stern. She considered Britain her home.”
“That may as well be, but the Finns were in league with the Nazis during the war, Dr. Gale. Don’t imagine that her handlers were naïve.” Stern did not smile, but there was maybe a hint of a twinkle in his gray eyes all of a sudden.
“She grew up in London and was nothing if not loyal to her family and her homeland, sir.” This time, it took more effort to be polite. Mari shook his head at the inference that his maternal ancestor might ever have entertained such inclinations.
“It’s true that nothing was ever proven, but Professor Pallant was a clever lady and an enormously skilled Elemental. The last Remote Viewer known to modern history.” Stern sounded almost wistful. “Her gift was quite something to behold, or so Grandpa told me. We could send coded messages all over the world by the telegraph, but the professor could physically talk with—and spy on—people on the other side of the Atlantic. Very disconcerting sometimes, I’d imagine.”
Mari managed a tiny, bitter smile. “She was burned out by the time I knew her,” he said, the words soft and sad. “I was only six when she died.”
“My condolences,” Stern said more gently. “You barely had the chance to know her.”
“I remember a white-haired old lady, with a sharp tongue,” Mari told him, lost in thought for a moment. “She didn’t suffer fools, gladly or otherwise. Music was her great love—the radio was always on in her lounge. She once told me she saw angels dancing on the airwaves and she was so sure that I almost believed her. My mama said she was touched, but not by angels.” He sighed and straightened his shoulders, sitting back in the leather and chrome office chair and crossing his left leg over the right knee as he steered the conversation back into safer waters. “The gift we have is a fragile thing, Brigadier Stern, sir. If we don’t use it, we run the risk of losing it. Overused, it doesn’t last. So, let’s talk about your terms, shall we?”
“We are not at liberty to offer you permanent employment, Dr. Gale,” Stern said with a smile that seemed to hint that this pained him. If Mari’s bluntness caused offense, he did not let it show. “But we can provide substantial financial remuneration for your time and effort on our behalf. The contract here is for two years, with the possibility of an extension, depending on the work you are engaged in at its conclusion.” He took a sheet of paper out of the folder on the desk between them and passed it over to Mari. “These are the figures involved. Naturally, you will be expected to keep the nature of your duties for us to yourself. At the end of your contract, should you require protection or anonymity, we will provide it, for you and your closest kin.”
“Am I allowed to tell my family who I work for?” Mari asked, his eyes widening at the breakdown in his hands as much as at the idea that he might need protecting.
“You may tell them where you work but the nature of your employment must remain classified, for security reasons. You understand that?” Stern lived up to his name for a moment and Mari nodded, feeling about ten years old again.
“May I have some time to think about your offer?” he asked.
The brigadier looked surprised, but he acquiesced. “Certainly, Dr. Gale. This is not a position that we can easily fill. You possess a certain skillset that only comes our way once in a blue moon. Take as much time as you need.” He consulted something in his files with a small frown. “Before you go…were you aware that Cambridge Laboratories have you down in their records as Ms. Isla Marjine Gale? An administrative error, I suppose.”
Mari blinked at him for a second, then his tongue unglued itself from the roof of his mouth. “Really? I…erm…yes. Well, I never. A typing mistake, most probably.” He laughed. “That’s what comes of being saddled with a forename no one has ever heard, or is able to spell. Do you need me to ask if they will resend it?”
“Not a problem. Your identification documents check out, so do your other references, and the evidence of my own eyes will suffice, I’m sure.” Stern chuckled. “We look forward to your decision, Dr. Gale. Thank you for your time today.”
The rest of the interview process was blessedly short, and within the hour, he was trotting back down the steps from the vast glass fortress and heading for the river. Mari heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, fending off a headache, as he began the hunt for a taxi. His mind was buzzing with a mess of nervous energy and confusion, re-running the conversation with Stern in his head over and over. Had he been convincing? Did he even want the job? He wanted to go home and get changed, maybe call Jake and see if he wanted to go for a run.
A smile twitched his lips again as he thought of Jake Chivis, part-Irish, part-Native American and a fellow Elemental. Jake had been a detective with the Detroit PD in a former life, before SEWN—the Six Elements Worldwide Network research program—had brought him to London, throwing him together with Mari as if that was their destiny.
Chivis was a trained inquisitor, even without his Elemental talents. His element was Fire and his gift was enabled through physical contact with material objects. Just a simple brush of Jake’s fingers could open up a gateway into another life, sucking him into the memories of the last person to touch an object. This included contact with people which, Mari conceded, could be a problem. If he accepted the job with MI6, the nature of his work would be classified. Even if he managed to keep his mouth shut, and not discuss business, there remained the possibility that Jake might one day pick up a stray memory from him, although thus far he had never done so.
Mari sighed. One step at a time, Mizz Gale.
He struck lucky halfway across Vauxhall Bridge when he managed to get an empty Hackney to stop for him in the slow-moving traffic. At the far end of the bridge, though, he turned off to the right and headed down Millbank. Suddenly they were taking a more circuitous route than Mari was expecting, for the second time that day.
“Is there still a problem? You’re going the wrong way,” he said, feeling his heart jump with the excitement of the unexpected diversion. Maybe it was just that his thoughts were filled with the seductive intrigue of life as a spy for Her Majesty’s Government, but the sudden rerouting was alive with possibilities in his mind.
The cabbie grunted. “Be here all day, if we go that way. Road’s been cordoned off in both directions all morning. Some silly mare set herself alight near Bessborough Gardens. Emergency Services are all over it. News crews will be down there as well by now.”
“Did they get to her in time?” Mari asked, shocked by this.
“Dunno, guv. Probably one of them suicide bombers gone wrong, innit,” the cabbie speculated. “There’s all sorts of nutters about these days. I’d send ‘em all back where they come from. Reckon this one’s gone to meet her maker at least.”
Mari wrinkled his nose irritably, as a thousand heated retorts sprang to mind. He was not in the right mood for a political argument today, though, and settled in his seat, biting his tongue, resigned to an unscheduled tour of the Thames embankment. Thankfully the cab driver did not press the issue. His smartphone vibrating in his jacket pocket made him jump, but a glance at the familiar caller ID soon put a smile back on his face.
Chapter One
When Jake had first moved into his London flat, he’d been leery about living above a bar, thinking that it would become a problem due to noise or obnoxious behavior. As it turned out, he rarely noticed the bar noise and, for a place that was a notorious cruising joint, there was very little in the way of trouble. Jake chalked it up to their intimidating leather-bear bouncers and the manager’s low tolerance for drama-prone twinks.
At the moment, he was carefully navigating a narrow wooden staircase on behalf of said manager. The stairs led up from the bar cellar and Jake was balancing three cases of beer in his arms, shadowed by Manny, who ran the place.
“Those are the last. Thanks, mate, I don’t know what I would have done without your help,” Manny said.
Of the two other barmen who were supposed to be helping with the delivery, one had called in sick and the other had disappeared a couple of days ago and no one had seen him since. Normally it would have just meant some extra work for Manny, but a week ago he had slipped and taken a tumble on the very stairs Jake had just navigated and his right arm was in a cast and a sling. Jake had been on his way to the grocery store when he’d seen him struggling and offered to help.
“No problem,” Jake told him, grunting as he set the cases down. “Saves me a trip to the gym later.”
“Ha! Well, if you want to save yourself the membership fees I’ll let you haul the cases up twice a week.”
Jake chuckled. “Maybe, until you get your cast off, anyway.”
“You should come back tonight. We’re doing a Best Chest Contest. Place should be packed with fit blokes flexing.” He was looking Jake up and down in a way that left no doubt he was getting an early start on watching fit blokes flexing. “You should enter.”
Jake grinned and shook his head. “No, thanks.”
“Well, come in for a pint anyway, it’s the least I can do.”
“I might,” Jake hedged. “I don’t know if Mari’s got plans for us tonight.”
“So bring him. I guarantee you’ll both have fun.”
“I’ll call and ask if he wants to,” Jake said, to be polite.
* * * *
At least Jake thought he was only being polite. When Mari eagerly agreed to a night out, even if it was only downstairs, Jake had to wonder if maybe he’d been stifling Mari’s social life. Work kept them both fairly busy and while they liked to jog together in the mornings, the majority of their time together wasn’t usually spent in public places.
“Hello, gorgeous,” Mari said effusively, dipping his head to drop a kiss onto Jake’s lips when he showed up that evening. “You look good enough to eat.”
Funny Mari should say that when it was Jake’s mouth that was watering just looking at him. While Jake couldn’t really remember a time when Mari wasn’t smartly dressed, he’d certainly put some extra effort in tonight. His nearly white blond locks were artfully messy and he wore a silvery, near-translucent tank top under a fitted, tan leather jacket and teal jeans that Jake already wanted to peel him out of. He returned the kiss and slipped an arm around him, telling himself it was just a friendly arm, not a possessive one.
“Good enough to eat, huh? Well if I’m the meat and potatoes, you are definitely the dessert. How did you even get those pants on?” Jake teased.
Mari glanced down as if he’d not even realized what he was wearing.
“Spray job. They’ll be harder to get off,” he said, as if he’d read Jake’s mind. Mari was already bouncing on his toes to the beat of the music spilling out from the open door of the bar. They were play a remix of Curtis Mayfield’s Superfly and Mari chirped, “Old school! Love it! I haven’t danced in ages. I think I forgot how.”
“Should I remind you?” Jake asked as they walked in. He snagged Mari around the hips and moved in closer with a sexy sway and shimmy.
“Mmmh, I haven’t dated a man who wanted to dance with me…ever.” Mari chuckled but moved his hips in time with the swing of Jake’s, nudging up against him. He leaned in close, speaking directly into Jake’s ear to be heard. “There is an awful lot of leather going on in here, don’t you think? I feel underdressed. Or overdressed…not sure.”
“Even if I dipped you in liquid latex and rolled you in metal spikes, you would stand out. Blending in isn’t your thing, Ilmari. You’re too hot for that.” Jake turned him in a swirl between the clusters of people standing around the bar.
“Guy Upstairs! We was wondering when you’d get brave enough to come on in,” one of the men at the bar whooped, eyeing Jake up meaningfully before his attention shifted to Mari. “Hello, Blondie. Is he treating you right then, this quiet guy?”
“He’s not so quiet when you get to know him.” Mari laughed. “And yes, he’s a gentleman.”
“Don’t get many of them in here,” observed a shaven-headed chap.
“Jake! There you are. Glad you could make it. What can I get for you two? You want a beer, or are you tired of lugging them around?” Manny asked, coming up to their spot at the bar.
“A beer sounds great, Tanglo, if you got it.” Jake looked at Mari. “What would you like?”
His partner scanned the pumps along the bar then the chill cabinets behind it. “Bottle of Estrella, thanks,” he decided, his eyes traveling over Manny, splint and all. “What did you do to yourself?”
“Fell down the cellar steps,” Manny said gruffly, shifting under that intense stare.
“You’re s’posed to tell the hotties you did it fighting a bear.” The shaven-headed customer laughed.
“He’d be spoilt for choice in here, I guess,” Mari said, and Jake chuckled at the glint of mischief in his eyes.
The other man winked at him. “Too true. All the chickens are too scared to come in tonight.”
“Is that right?” Mari asked, slipping onto a bar stool. “Why’s that then? Can’t be the terrible music.”
Two bushy eyebrows crept up their companion’s forehead and he looked over at Manny, who was suddenly busy with other customers.
“Did he not tell you tonight’s the club’s BDSM night then?” He chortled. “Guess that’s one way to get newbies in here.”
For a moment, Mari’s perfectly composed face was totally unreadable. He touched the neck of the bottle to his lips and blew into it gently. His sky-blue eyes flickered to the awkward form of Manny behind the bar then back to Jake’s face, failing to hide his surprise.
“I take it they don’t just order a pizza and talk about complicated knots?” Mari said, with the barest twitch of his lips.
The bald fellow smirked. “You can sign up to hitch yourself to the switching post later tonight if you want,” he offered, his tone teasing.
“Well, that would be awkward.” Mari fixed him with that stare, the one Jake knew had already melted the resolve of bigger guys than their barfly. “I might need some help with that. Complicated knots and everything, you know.”
He winked and the hairless guy reddened a shade. The guy was clearly considering that proposal and Jake was on the verge of pointing out that Mari was teasing.
“Maybe you coming in tonight weren’t such an accident after all, eh?” The guy laughed at last, breaking the tension. “New faces are always a big draw. You boys are new to the scene, aren’t you?”
Mari shrugged one shoulder, pursing his lips as if he was considering the question.
“Maybe some of us are,” he said at last.
Mari kept looking at him, stealing tiny glances from the corner of his eye. Jake imagined the wheels in that beautiful complex head of his spinning at light speed. He sipped his beer and hid his grin, keeping his expression unreadable. Jake didn’t consciously try for aloof and mysterious, but it got Mari so wound up sometimes that he couldn’t help doing it on purpose, once in a while. Of course, the fact that Mari usually wanted to get into his head in the more physical sense only reinforced the behavior.
Jake leaned close to his ear, letting his lips brush over the shell. “Want to dance?”
Mari took a good swig from the beer bottle in his hand then slid down from the stool, still holding his drink.
“Well…come on,” he said, with a devilish grin. “What are you waiting for?”
They moved to the nearest clear area. Jake slipped his arms around him and pressed up close, giving him a kiss before he let him have his space again. He could not help remembering how Alex had been so surprised that not only did he like to dance, but he wasn’t half bad at it. His ex’s unspoken implication—that he was just too straight-laced and uptight to enjoy grinding on a dance floor in a crowd of sexually charged men—had not been lost on either of them.
Jake hadn’t realized how much he’d missed dancing, either. He had always been a physical guy and getting lost in the modern-day version of tribal dance was without a doubt something he could get into. Of course, watching Mari move, like he was made out of silk and slinkies, was an added bonus. He wondered what exactly was going on in that clever head. Jake had not missed Mari’s interest in the conversation at the bar, nor the way he’d tried to be so nonchalant about it. He still wasn’t sure if that was all it came down to—just an interest—or if Mari really was turned on by the idea of playing whipping boy.
Whatever the attraction, Mari seemed in his element, fit enough to out-dance just about any man in here. There was a fierce joy in him as he writhed and slammed his way around the compact dance floor, drawing in fellow participants and bemused onlookers alike, most of whom seemed more surprised than Jake at his wholehearted enthusiasm.
Jake was having a good time and had just started to work up a sweat when Mari touched soft lips to his ear, shouting to be heard over the music.
“Wonder what’s downstairs then?” He nodded toward the back of the dance floor where a flight of steps led into the basement, and from which a red-gold light glowed like it was the entrance to Hades.
“Are you asking that because you don’t know, or because you want to let your inner exhibitionist run free tonight?” Jake asked, equal parts amused and aroused by the idea.
“I have an inner exhibitionist?” Mari looked at himself as if he expected a mini-Mari to pop out of his belly like the Alien. “All my days! That would be something. Do you think I make a habit of hanging out in fetish bars, Jake Chivis?”
“You tell me,” Jake teased. “Do you want me to sign you up for a flogging?”
Mari just chuckled and caught his hand, bringing it up to his lips to brush a kiss across his knuckles. He grinned as he let Mari tow him along in his wake, snaking through the thrashing bodies on the dance floor, down the concrete steps into the lower reaches of the bar. There was another chamber opposite the store room where Jake had earlier been heaving crates. The door to this room stood open, decked with a cartoon poster depicting a Charles Atlas type, in a golden posing pouch, that advertised the club’s impending Best Chest Contest. The music was still audible, but louder still were the sharp cracks of leather on bare skin and the rhythmic groans of the clientele who had come to the basement for their punishment and pleasure.
The shaven-headed man from the bar was already there, bent over a bench with his leather pants around his knees as an older guy wearing a peaked cap, a black PVC posing pouch and a pair of biker boots swatted his bare arse with a wooden paddle. The hitching post he’d spoken of, an upright affair with two sets of iron rings and a square iron base, was occupied by a muscular, bearded man. He was nude except for a pair of white briefs, and they’d been tugged down at the back to expose his pale cheeks. He was fastened with his wrists together, over his head, and his feet apart, straps around his ankles attached to either end of a fixed wooden spreader bar. A younger man, with elaborate tattoos all over his powerful upper body and tight black jeans over his lower parts, was swinging a short-handled flail almost lazily at his buttocks, the leather strands striking skin with a rippling sound that nonetheless made the tethered man moan and sigh.
Beside him, Mari uttered kittenish growling noises as he watched the way the stranger flexed and pulled on the restraining bonds each time the lash fell on his bared flesh. Jake made a casual sweep of the room, but he was much more interested in Mari’s reactions than the actual goings-on. Mari’s fingers were still wrapped around his and they squeezed tighter at the sounds of flesh being smacked. It was marginally quieter down here, but Jake still leaned closer to speak in Mari’s ear.
“So, you’re into all this?” he asked, less teasing and more curious. “How come you didn’t tell me before?”
“You never asked,” Mari said casually. His eyes were still fever-bright as he watched the stranger at the hitching post take another lazy slap of the flail. “And it’s not the sort of thing that you can drop into polite conversation, is it? ‘How’s your mother?’ ‘Oh, she’s fine. She says, when are you going to strap me to the bed and whip me, Jake?’” He waved his free hand toward the post. “Wonder how much something like that costs.”
Jake nearly choked on a sharp bark of laughter, then cleared his throat at the brief disappointed look Mari threw him.
“Do you mean him, or the post?”
“He is rather cute, but where would we keep him?” Mari said, poker-faced. Jake wondered if he was getting his own back for Jake laughing at him when he turned back again, openly admiring the inked designs on the Dom’s well-developed torso and powerful arms. As his client came down from the endorphin rush, the guy was admiring Mari too—rather brazenly, Jake thought.
“Bet he’d win the Best Chest, don’t you?” Mari speculated.
“Maybe I should ask if I can borrow his flogger,” Jake said, with a sudden hot spark of jealousy. He wasn’t sure if he was joking, even as he said it.
For a moment, Mari looked as if he might be struggling to breathe. The inked man unfastened his client and began making arrangements for the same time next month, as the satisfied customer pulled his clothes on. Judging by the damp patch in his tighty whities, before he’d pulled his trousers up over them, he’d found the experience stimulating. When Mr. Muscle-n-Tatts headed over toward them, Mari cleared his throat and swallowed hard.
“Hi there. Are you interested in something in particular? Haven’t seen you down here before. What do you like?” the Dom asked, very open, very friendly.
Mari made two unsuccessful attempts to speak and Jake had to nudge him with his elbow.
At last, his voice gone attractively husky, his lover managed to murmur, “I’ve…um… I’ve never done this professionally before. Does it…hurt?”
“As much or as little as you like. You can handle the paddles and floggers first,” his guide offered. “Get a feel for the weight of them, what you think might feel nice on your skin. That’s what nights like this are all about, educating new clients.”
“It’s…more the bondage that’s new to me,” Mari said, as shyly as Jake had ever heard him speak. “I know what feels good on my skin.”
Jake turned his head trying to get his attention, since this was news to him. Mari was not taking him on, his fascinated gaze remained fixed on the hitching post. The Dom responded with a warm smile. He could have been trying to sell windows or a car instead of an intimate BDSM session.
“You like the idea of being tied up, though?” he said in a calm, soothing tone. “A lot of men enjoy that. No need to be shy. We’re all like-minded guys here. Is this your boyfriend?”
Mari nodded, no hesitation. In spite of the surge of jealousy, Jake got a warm glow inside him at that simple admission.
The Dom managed a playful pout. “Shame. He’s very cute, though. Lucky boy. Does he want to paddle you? Or just watch and fuck you when I’m done?”
Jake wanted to protest, he really did, but he bit his tongue. It wasn’t that he had a problem with the spanking, or the bondage, or even—to a limited extent—the publicness of the situation, but he wasn’t sure how he would handle seeing another man touch Mari like that. He’d never been a particularly jealous or possessive person, but as he tried to picture Hot Tattoo Guy strapping his Mari up and whipping him, his brain utterly rebelled at the idea. However, he could tell Mari was turned on, and if Jake refused he knew Mari would be disappointed. Worse, he might start to overthink and figure that Jake had him down for a pervert or something.
He tried to catch Mari’s eye again but his adorable mate was looking just about anywhere else except at him. Making up his mind, Jake said, “No, if he wants a paddling, I’ll give it to him.”
Mari turned toward him sharply, his bright, aquamarine eyes filled with curiosity. He looked rather startled by Jake’s vehemence.
Their inked host murmured, “Uh-huh…possessive, much!”
“Seriously?” Mari asked him, ignoring the Dom. “You’re up for that? For spanking me, I mean?”
Jake had to fight down the feeling of absurdity that wanted to bubble up as nervous laughter, certain that it would be taken wrong. He wasn’t so sure he should do this. While he wasn’t prudish about exploring kink and he got off on really pushing Mari’s buttons, the last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt him. He had never in his life struck a lover—not even Alex, who had pushed him to the limits of provocation—and playful swats were about as far as any physical roughness had gotten. Jake could sort of see the appeal in turning Mari over his knee and slapping his arse as he squirmed there, but using an actual wooden paddle on him was not really in his comfort zone.
He could tell that Mari saw him wavering.
“Um, sure,” he murmured, before Mari could get out one of his patented ‘forget it!’ head tosses.
“I’m not going to push anyone,” their host added quickly, picking up on the tension between them. “That isn’t what we’re about. But if you wanted to explore your options somewhere less public, I can give you my number.” He turned away for a moment toward the wheeled equipment case and produced a card which identified him as Colm Fleming. The company name on his card was The Headmaster Ritual and the backdrop to his details was a soft-focus image of a darkened room with a pair of cuffed wrists and a pale cane in motion. Very artistic, if you liked that kind of thing. “I do photography as well,” Colm offered, with a helpful smile. “Not weddings and stuff, but some portrait work. Mostly abstract.”
“Aren’t you the entrepreneur?” Mari teased, seeming to recover some of his composure, but he took the card with a nod. “Can I have one for Jake as well?”
Colm looked at Jake curiously then back at Mari. “You don’t live together?”
“We’ve not been seeing one another very long. You know how it goes.” Mari smiled but he reached out to snake the fingers of his right hand through Jake’s left as Colm handed them another card.
Jake smiled too. He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved that Mari seemed to want to postpone the experiment.
“If you’re not gonna…?” A young guy had come over while they were talking and he looked from Jake and Mari back to Colm, then gestured toward the post.
Mari waved him toward it with a magnanimous gesture but he nodded at Colm. “I’ll ring you. I’d like to talk things over with you, but maybe in a less…hectic environment?”
“Sounds good to me.” Colm grinned at him, then reached for a set of cuffs as the lad was getting his shirt off. “I’d best get cracking here. Pun intended.”
“Yes, you’d better,” Mari agreed, and Jake didn’t miss the way he admired the toned body revealed by the young penitent’s shucking of his shirt. When his gaze moved to Colm’s face again there was a hint of his natural mischief back there. “Thanks for this,” he said, waving the card then tucking it into his pocket as he turned away.
Was that flirting? Was he flirting with the guy? Jake tried to rein those thoughts in but he couldn’t help it. Mari had a habit of flirting, but it had never bugged Jake before. Jesus, they’d managed to go to one bar for an hour and already he was devolving into Neanderthal territory. He realized something else. It had never really bothered him when he and Alex had gone out and his ex had spent all night coming on to strangers. Then again, he’d known Alex was doing it to get a rise out of him. That was not Mari’s way, at all.
“You want another drink?” Jake asked, by way of keeping himself from hauling Mari out of there and grilling him about whether he wanted to sleep with Mr. Whips and Tattoos. They had to step to one side as a sweating, agitated-looking guy pushed by them on the stairs in an obvious hurry to get down to the basement for some chastisement. Though he looked chastised enough already, in Jake’s opinion.
“If you do,” Mari said, then exhaled a huff that might have been regret and might have been relief. “Unless, of course, you just want to put me over your shoulder and carry me out, Mr. Caveman. I wasn’t giving him the come-on. So you can stop looking daggers. And don’t deny it.” He pointed a slender finger at Jake as he opened his mouth. “I could see you thinking it. Yes, he’s very cute, but he’s not really my type. I do like his toy box though.”
Jake snapped his mouth closed then pushed a hand through his hair and let out a sigh of his own. He had always pitied guys that acted like possessive jerks and here he was being as transparent as glass, all but snarling at anyone who got too close to Mari. “I’m sorry. I was aiming not to be obvious. I’ll try and refrain from clubbing you over the head and dragging you out by the hair.” He managed a sheepish grin.
“In that case, it would be my pleasure to have another drink with you, Chivis.” Mari chuckled, slipping a hand around the nape of his neck and towing him in for a brief, firm kiss.
They made their way back up into the bar and as they were weaving their way through the crowd, Jake heard someone shout, then screaming coming from the direction of the basement.
The red and gold lighting seemed to be flickering and Mari yelled, “Can you smell something burning?”
Jake noticed the smell just as Mari was saying it, and turned his head. A curl of pale smoke was winding up from the basement stairway, not thick but noticeable.
“Shit!” He grabbed Mari’s arm. “Get out of here. Hurry.”
Jake gave him a push toward the front exit then shoved through the crowd, trying to get to the stairs.
Chapter Two
Mari moved instinctively the way that he was urged but, as Jake let go and turned back into the sudden rush of panicked bodies, he stopped and looked over his shoulder. Men were pushing by him, streaming past like a churning river forcing its way around a standing stone.
Colm had reached the top of the stairs, sweating and soot-streaked. He was shaking his head and pointing down into the basement as Jake reached the doorway. Manny, the bartender, was shouting and trying to keep order as his customers ignored him, shoving their frantic way toward the narrow exit door. An alarm bell added its insistent clamor to the shouts and screams. In the midst of all the chaos, Manny tried to cajole him toward the door—as well as he could with one arm—but Mari dodged by him and pushed his way through to the basement stairs where he had seen Jake disappear into the swirl of smoke with Colm. He grabbed a beer-soaked towel from the bar and pressed it over his mouth and nose as he hurried to the cellar where the conflagration seemed to be contained. As he got there, he saw the reason for Colm’s panic. He and Jake were trying to manhandle the unfortunate client up the stairs, still hitched to the flogging post, which they had detached from its weighty metal base. They had got his ankles free of the spreader bar but the lad was semi-conscious from smoke inhalation and the two men were struggling to haul both him and the wooden post up the stairs. Mari pitched in, grabbing the top of the post, and the three of them carried the client out of the smoke-wreathed cellar. Colm turned around as they reached the bar area, where the air was clearer.
“My kit!” he yelled, and disappeared into the smoke again.
Mari’s eyes went wide. “Idiot! What’s he doing?”
“Colm!” Jake bellowed after him, startling Mari into almost dropping the man they were trying to help out. He couldn’t remember having heard Jake even raise his voice before, and wouldn’t have guessed that he could sound that loud, or that angry.
“Damn it! Mari, can you get him out of here on your own?” Jake called over the incessant rattle of the fire alarm.
“You’re not going back down there.” Mari dropped to his knees, tugging on the straps around the man’s wrists, releasing him from the post as fast as he could. The guy had passed out and Mari knew it was important to get him away from the smoke as soon as possible. The smoke coming up from the stairs was thick and dark. The acrid smell had the sweet sickliness of charred meat. “What the fuck happened?” he shouted.
But Jake was already on his way down the steps again, Mari’s towel clutched to his face.
Mari swore under his breath and grabbed the unconscious client by his wrists. With no concern for his modesty, he hauled him, semi-naked, across the dance floor into the fresher air coming in from the street. The fact hadn’t escaped him that, but for his own hesitancy to experiment, it could well have been him that Jake had been struggling to drag up the stairs. He didn’t have time to wallow in self-congratulation though.
Manny met him halfway to the door and helped him pull the lad to safety. At the entrance, he waved his mobile and shouted, “Fire Brigade are coming.”
Mari nodded to him, catching his breath in the cooler night air, then ran back inside, ignoring the cries ordering him to stay where he was. Jake was still in that basement and Mari wasn’t about to leave the only man who had ever made him feel worthwhile to a horrible fate. Not alone. He grabbed two more bar towels and sprinted for the stairs. Partway to the basement, he hit the thick wall of black smoke and found himself gagging and half-blinded by it. Up in the club it had just been a few wisps of gray swirling around, down here it was choking. He could feel heat coming up to meet him and hear the crackle of flames, even if he couldn’t yet see the actual fire. Using the wall as a guide, he eased himself to floor level, almost sitting on the steps, where the air was clearer. The stench was horrendous though, almost enough to make him physically sick.
His eyes were watering so much that Jake slammed into him before Mari saw him, trying to pull Colm’s limp body back up toward the stairs. He coughed and swore, something else that Mari wasn’t used to hearing from his lips.
“Fucking idiot! Get out! Get out! Now!”
Mari threw one of the towels at him and ignored the insult, grabbing Colm’s hanging arm and pulling it over his shoulder. Between them, towels masking some of the smog, they managed to drag Colm back up the stairs before flopping to the ground beside him on the empty dance floor. Mari’s eyes were streaming and his head spun as he gasped and choked, fighting the impulse to just black out. Jake coughed painfully into the wet towel, like he would spit his lungs out. Colm was scarily still, eyes closed, scorched lips parted in a soundless gasp.
A searchlight panned through the swirling smoke and suddenly Mari was aware of metallic-sounding voices and the sliding blue lights of a fire tender outside the bar. Strong hands gripped his arms and pulled him upright, then off his feet, and just like that he was floating under again, losing consciousness. He gasped Jake’s name as the blackness sucked him down.
* * * *
Mari came to his senses in the back of an ambulance, the world swaying like crazy around him, and instinct made him reach out.
“Jake!” The word hurt his throat and he coughed violently. Someone pressed a mask over his nose and mouth, telling him to breathe slowly, and he tried to push it away but felt weak as a baby. The rapid, frightened pounding of his heart hurt like hot spikes in his chest and he felt dizzy, almost drunk, and unable to get his breath. He grayed out and when he woke up again he was in a still, quiet room with white walls. For a moment, he thought that he was dead. When he turned his head, though, his ears filled with the shush of oxygen cylinders and the beeps of nearby monitors. His pulse quickened as he recognized Jake stretched out on the single bed beside his own. Jake’s eyes were closed but his chest rose and fell in a jagged rhythm. Like Mari, he wore an oxygen mask over half of his smoke-blackened face.
Mari murmured his name again and Jake’s honey-gold eyes fluttered open. Relief surged through him like a spear of pure adrenaline.
“Fuck! Thank goodness!” he croaked.
“Mari.” Jake’s voice sounded raw and he winced. “How long…?” He was stopped by a coughing fit that made his eyes water. When it subsided, he rasped, “Are you okay?”
“Uh-huh.” Mari exhaled with a weak nod. “I think so. I feel weird but… What happened?”
“Not sure.” Jake still sounded husky and sexy, even tucked firmly into bed and wrapped in a mask. “Colm kept yelling that one of the clients…he caught fire. Just like that. Just burning up. It was that fast.” He sucked in a gulp of oxygen, then coughed for a full minute.
Mari blinked at him, moving the mask from over his face so that he could speak. “What? How? Did someone…?” He ran out of air and took another gulp from the mask before trying again. “Did someone attack him?”
“That’s what didn’t make sense. No one touched him. He just…whoosh, went up.” Jake started to push himself up on one arm, moving like he was a man three times his age. “I need to question Colm.”
“No…stay put.” Mari told him. Just pushing the bedcovers back felt like a marathon task. And Jake had been down there longer than him. “It’s not going to make a…make a difference if you wait until you’re stronger, Jake.”
He succumbed to a fit of coughing and pulled the mask back over his nose and mouth, gulping the oxygen gratefully. A dark-skinned fellow in green nurse’s scrubs came in, and the argument became academic. He bullied Jake back into bed while checking his clipboard, then told Mari off for inciting him. Mari rolled indignant eyes but the medic was unfazed, and just wagged a finger at him, admonishing him again.
“The guy that came in with us?” Mari asked him, through the mask. “Is he okay?”
Their nurse turned to look at Jake then back at him with a sudden, brilliant white smile. “You fellas got him out, right?”
“Stupid ass went back in,” Jake rumbled, his voice barely more than a rasp. “Did the fire spread? Did they get it out before it got upstairs?”
“That’s the weird thing,” the nurse told them, shaking his head. “Didn’t spread at all. Nothing else in the building was damaged, ‘cept by the smoke. But the guy still down there was charcoal, man. You know. Nothing to resuscitate.”
“That’s not possible,” Mari huffed. “Is it?”
“You’d be surprised,” the nurse said.
Jake nodded, looking thoughtful. “If the fire is hot enough, it could be,” he croaked. “Had to be a real hot burn, though. Did they find any accelerants?”
“That’s up to the police and firefighters to find,” their medic answered in a tone that all but said Jake shouldn’t worry his pretty head about it.
“I was…an…arson investigator,” Jake said between short, painful gasps.
“I think the operative word there, is ‘was’, hot shot,” their nurse pointed out. “The police and the Fire Super will want to have a word when you’re up to it, though.”
“We’re up to it,” Mari insisted, though his pulse was hammering in his throat again and he just wanted to close his eyes and sleep. “Can we talk to them?”
“Course you can, sweetheart.” The nurse nodded. “All in good time. You fellas just lay down, though, and stop trying to be heroic on my watch, right?”
Mari subsided, exhausted by just that brief exchange, but he wasn’t placated. However, the heavy feeling in his chest pulled him under and he slept at last, succumbing to the bone-deep weariness.
* * * *
It was still dark outside when the Fire Service Superintendent turned up to interview them. Mari noticed how Jake chuckled at the widening of his eyes but he couldn’t help it, zoned-out on smoke and medication or not. Superintendent Sullivan was at least six foot four, and filled out his pristine uniform to perfection. A close-cropped thatch of dark red hair hugged his scalp and his sea-green eyes were somewhere between fierce and inquisitive as he confirmed their names and the time of their arrival at the bar.
“All right, you two,” he said in a gruff tone. “Whose barmy idea was it to go running back into a burning building?”
Mari raised his hand like an imperious child. “Actually, we were already in there when the fire started.”
“Had to make sure everyone was out,” Jake told him.
“You did good, in that case, mate,” Sullivan said, nodding. “In an enclosed environment like that you were lucky there weren’t more casualties. Either of you see what happened?”
Mari shook his head. “We were upstairs. We’d just come from the basement. There was nothing burning then. It would have been pretty obvious.” He coughed and reached for his mask again, sinking back down on the pillows.
“How many people were down there when you came out the first time?” the fire officer asked, making notes in a pocket book.
“Seven or eight, maybe,” Jake croaked. “Have you spoken with Colm Fleming? He was down there when the fire started.” Jake didn’t mention that they had been chasing after him when they’d gone back down the second time and Mari didn’t remind him.