Beneath the Scars (Masters of the Shadowlands #13)(17)

As Josie started to move away, Holt gave her a slight shake of his head. Stay.

When he turned to Amber, his eyes were the color of sleet and held as much warmth. “Conning the bartender, stealing, lying, and casting the blame on another person. Did I miss anything?”

Amber flushed beet red.

When the blonde’s expression turned remorseful, Josie wanted to roll her eyes. She’d seen better acting from Carson’s friends.

“I’m sorry, Master Holt.” Amber took a step closer…and stopped when Holt’s jaw tightened.

His control over his anger was impressive—and intimidating enough that Josie wanted to retreat to a safe distance. California sounded about far enough away.

“Am I the one who should get an apology?” Holt asked in a lethally soft voice.

After a second, Amber glanced at Edward and gritted out, “I’m sorry, Sir.”

The sadist’s expression didn’t change.

Amber shrugged and offered Holt a simperingly pretty smile. “May I go now, Master Holt?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

Sheesh, Josie wasn’t the one in trouble, but that silence stuff was deadly.

Amber’s jaw moved sideways in an ugly fashion before she glanced at Josie. “Sorry.”

That was the least authentic sounding apology Josie’d ever heard. And she was done with this. She picked up a stack of tickets a barmaid had left and started drawing a beer. Heavens knew any reply she made to that fake apology would be either rude…or dishonest. This club stuff wasn’t her problem.

Nonetheless, she listened with one ear as Master Holt told Amber that her apology was as dishonest as her behavior. “Edward, could I impose on you to give Amber a paddling? Stop after each one and let her apologize. If she ever sounds honestly sorry, you can stop. Otherwise, give her the full twenty…as is listed under punishment in the membership agreement.”

“What?” Amber gasped.

“I don’t usually enjoy hurting non-masochists but, in your case, it’ll be a pleasure.” Smiling cynically, Edward curled a hand around the woman’s arm and led her away.

Josie realized she was staring. Not your problem. Not your business. Focus. Serve drinks. She walked over to the two who’d spoken up for her—Master Marcus and the redhead, Gabrielle. “Thank you so much for speaking up. Now, what can I get you to drink?”

“You’re welcome, and I’d love a Diet Coke.” Gabrielle had a lovely smile.

Clean-shaven with short hair, Master Marcus looked like the CEO of a Fortune 500 business. His coloring was much like Holt’s—lightly tanned, honey-blond hair, and blue eyes. But the added gray in Holt’s eyes could turn them from a soft foggy color to that of a bleak winter sky.

Master Marcus’s accent was pure Southern as he said, “It is truly a delight to have a real bartender working here. I’m Marcus.”

Josie tipped her head in a respectful nod. “Master Marcus. Gabrielle.”

“Gabi,” the redhead corrected. She turned as Holt joined them and gave him a gentle hug. “Holt, it’s good to have you back. How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

Marcus made a disbelieving sound.

Josie stood for a second, dying to know what they were talking about, then gave herself a stern shake and poured Gabi a Diet Coke. As she set it in front of the woman, she lifted her eyebrows at Marcus.

“Gerolsteiner on the rocks, please.”

Josie scooped ice into a glass, selected the right bottle, and poured the bubbly water.

“If you’re still here later, we’ll join you for a real drink.” Marcus smiled at Holt, then ran his fingers down his submissive’s cheek. “First, I fear someone has a beatin’ coming to her.”

Hearing that, Josie’s fingers closed forcefully around the bottle. There would be no beating of women on her watch. “Listen, you—”

Leaning across the bar, Holt gripped her wrist and gently took the bottle from her. “BDSM club, remember, pet? Everything is consensual.”

Oh. Damn. She knew that, for heaven’s sake. Had been watching people being whipped and flogged and caned all night. “Right.” She glanced at Holt and said under her breath, “Thanks.”

Master Marcus chuckled.

“You were going to come to my rescue, weren’t you?” Gabi grinned. “I like you. Welcome to the Shadowlands.”

“Um. Thank you.” Josie exhaled silently. At the rate she was blundering from mistake to mistake, she doubted she’d be at the club for a second night. Even if the owner didn’t fire her, she wasn’t sure she was cut out for this place.

Holt was still holding her wrist, his gaze on her. “You okay?”

His hand was warm, the strength in it oddly comforting. And she shouldn’t even be thinking that way. Leaning on a man was a good way to end up sprawled on the sidewalk.

“Fine, yes. Thank you for the help.” She carefully pulled her arm away.

His gaze went flat. “No problem. If you can handle things, I need to see if Zuri and her crew are here. Excuse me.”

As Holt walked toward the back, Marcus watched him for a second, then looked at Josie, eyes narrowed.





Chapter Four