Beneath the Scars (Masters of the Shadowlands #13)(15)

Sometimes a bar seemed much like a confessional…and she’d sure learned a lot in the last few hours.

Josie wandered in a circle around the bar, assessing who needed refills. Two men, one in black leathers, the other in a chain harness and leather collar had nearly full drinks.

Next were three women—Dommes. Their minions—slaves, submissives, or whatevers—knelt off to one side, also talking. Nothing needed there.

Ah, she had customers waiting—three women near the end of the bar.

As she headed that way, a redhead in a golden bustier scooted onto an empty barstool. A man in a well-tailored suit joined her.

“I’ll be right with you,” Josie said as she passed them.

Reaching the end of the bar, she smiled at the three women. A brunette, a redhead, and a blonde…sounded like the beginning of a joke. “What can I get you?”

The platinum blonde turned to her friends as if Josie hadn’t spoken. “Didn’t I tell you we had a new bartender?”

Josie smothered a sigh and patiently waited.

“I’d like a shot of Scotch. Make it the Balvenie 21. It’s over there.” The blonde waved toward the other side of the bar before grinning at her giggling friends.

The laughter sounded nervous, and in any other bar, Josie would have carded them. But Z’s background check and security guard ensured anyone in the place was over twenty-one.

“Coming right up.” Josie spotted the bottle of scotch and picked it up. Nice choice. Aged in port wine casks, the twenty-one-year-old single malt ran well over two hundred dollars a bottle. Pouring, Josie made a mental note so she’d keep track of how much the blonde had imbibed. She set the drink in front of the woman. “Here you go.”

The blonde scooped it up and moved away, followed by her friends.

“What the fuck?” a man said from behind Josie. Despite the soft voice, his irritation came through clearly.

Uh-oh. Josie turned and smiled. “Good evening. What can I get you?”

Stepping up to the bar, the man was tall and wiry, probably in his forties with short light brown hair. The coiled whip fastened to his belt sent a shiver down Josie’s spine. Did he seriously use that? On a person?

His gaze was cold. “That’s my bottle.”

Huh? She glanced down at the bottle still in her hand. “Oh. All right. Would you like a drink from it?”

His color darkened. “I don’t know who the fuck you are, but that bottle cost me a hefty penny, and I won’t have you pouring it out for your subbie friends. You—”

Her subbie friends? Josie saw the women were no longer at the bar. A sinking feeling made her take a step back. She’d messed up…somehow…but what had she done? “I don’t understand.”

Down the bar, the man in the suit started to stand up. “Edward, might I—”

“Hey, Edward,” said a very familiar voice.

Holt? Josie’s jaw dropped as her neighbor strolled up to the bar. His thick, dark blond hair was loose, brushing his shoulders, and his short beard had been trimmed.

Seriously? Her biker neighbor was a member of this place?

Seeing Holt, the Dom wearing a suit silently resumed his place.

“You look riled up, Edward. What’s up?” Holt’s calm, resonant voice was like a flag of peace in a battle. As Josie pulled in a breath, his sea-gray eyes gaze turned to her with an appraising gaze.

“Um. Hi, Holt,” she said.

Edward scowled at her. “That’s Master Holt to you. Show some fucking respect.”

Master? Josie noted the gold band circling Holt’s hard biceps. Master Holt. From Edward’s irritation, apparently even the bartender should use that Master title when addressing them. Cullen had missed a few details during her orientation.

Holt gave Edward an amused look. “She’s not a member. Z hired us a professional bartender.” He glanced at her. “Is this your first night?”

She nodded.

“Thought so.” He grinned at Edward. “We should give the poor drink-slinger time to familiarize herself with the quirks here.”

“A professional bartender?” Annoyance sliding away, Edward studied her. “I’ve seen you before, haven’t I? At The Highlands?”

“You have a good memory.” She took a breath. “I’m very sorry if I messed up. Could you explain what I did wrong? When Cullen was showing me the ropes, he had a call from work and left without completing my orientation to the bar.”

“Nice. Left you to the wolves and”—Holt nodded at Edward—“sadists.”

She’d aggravated a whip-wielding sadist. Josie swallowed. “Um.”

Edward grinned and, thankfully, didn’t unsnap his whip. His mouth thinned again. “What you did wrong was to pour a drink for your girlfriend, Amber, from my private stock.”

That sounded bad. Josie bit her lip. “Cullen mentioned private stock but left before he had a chance to explain it.”

“Let me show you.” Holt lifted up the pass-through and stepped behind the bar. Taking the bottle from her hand, he pointed to the small label on one side that said “EDWARD.” “Although the bar is stocked with regularly priced alcohol”—he gestured toward the array of bottles in the speed well and on the shelves—“some members want seriously expensive shit.”