Eve looked at Liam, who shrugged. Obviously he didn’t know what the hell was happening. “Does who do what often?”
“Ian. He was here when I got to work an hour ago. None of us were supposed to be here until six this evening, but I wanted to go over the scenes for the weekend. There’s a really complex one Jake wants to do and with Serena pregnant, I wanted to make damn sure every piece of equipment is in full repair. I brought the subs in so we could test everything, but there was already a scene playing out on the stage. Ian has got that Scotch bottle in complete submission, I tell you.”
“Ian Taggart is here, and he’s drunk at two o’clock in the afternoon?” Ian was always in control. She’d never once seen him out of it.
“As far as I can tell. He’s not exactly talking much. He growls a lot. Cusses. That man has a mouth on him. And it’s a good thing he’s the boss because he’s worked his way through a bottle of Macallan thirty-year-old Scotch. Do you have any idea how much that costs?”
A whole lot. What the hell? She looked to Liam. “Do you know of anything that could have set him off?”
Liam shook his head. “No idea, but he won’t want me to see him like this. He might be able to handle it with you.”
Because she was a sub and his longtime friend, but Li was right. He would be horrified at anyone but her and Alex seeing him in less than perfect control. He might still lash out at her, but she could handle it.
“Should I call Sean?” Li asked, looking a little helpless. None of them wanted a world where Ian Taggart wasn’t Superman or at least a growling, foul-mouthed equivalent.
That would be the worst thing he could do. Sean and Ian had a complex relationship. Over the last year, their relationship had been strained because of an operation where Ian chose to save his brother’s life over Grace’s. Grace had survived, but Ian wouldn’t make the same mistake again. Sean, however, was slow to forgive. “Don’t you dare. Just try to get Alex here as fast as possible. I’m going to go and just reassure myself that he’s all right.”
“I don’t think he’s okay,” Ryan said, opening the door again.
“Sweet Child O’ Mine” blasted through the club. The guitar riffs reached a crescendo and then went silent. Eve breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank god. That’s way too loud.”
“Oh, wait for it,” Ryan said.
The song started again. “Does he have it on autoplay?”
“Yep, and he’s threatened to shoot me if I turn it off. I haven’t seen a gun, but I don’t doubt he has one hidden somewhere.” Ryan sighed. “I’ll be honest, I have no idea what to do. I would leave him be, but the rest of my staff is going to be here in a couple of hours to start setting up. Should I cancel the scenes for tonight?”
And be forced to explain why? “No. Let me talk to him. Can you turn it down a little? Just a smidge. He might not notice.”
They walked through the lobby, and she caught sight of Ian. Well, the back of him. He’d taken a chair and placed it in the center of the stage. He was directly facing the St. Andrew’s Cross, his back to the rest of the club. He’d taken off his jacket, and she could see that he’d rolled up his sleeves. A glass with a couple of fingers of amber-colored liquid was in his right fist, the bottle on the floor beside him.
And the energy coming off him was righteously bad.
Yeah, he wasn’t okay.
Ian had been Alex’s best friend most of their lives. He wasn’t a big talker. She’d never had a therapy session with him. Ian’s version of therapy was very different. He wouldn’t talk about what was wrong. He would drink and apparently listen to metal ballads.
But in the end, she couldn’t treat him like a patient. She had to treat him like a friend, or better, a Master. Those other subs had probably tried to offer him sex. He didn’t need that. Half the time she wondered if there was an actual submissive bone in their bodies.
Sometimes a Dom needed a sub for way more than sex. Maybe it was time to start getting that part of her life back, too.
She kicked off her shoes and shrugged out of her jacket, folding it and putting it on a table. She pulled out the pins in her hair as she stared at Ian.
Ryan was watching her with his arms crossed. “The other subs tried.”
“The other subs don’t love him. That man has basically been my big brother for most of my adult life. I’m not going to offer him my body, Ryan. He would vomit. But I can offer him something else. Now get them out of here. You should leave, too.”
Ryan frowned. “I don’t know about that. He might be the boss, but I’m the Dom in Residence and I’m responsible for the safety of every sub here.”
And sometimes she just couldn’t be submissive. “And I own a piece of the club. It might not be the biggest chunk, but I’m still a founding member.” She softened a little. “Ryan, I appreciate it, but Ian Taggart, for all his bluster, wouldn’t hurt a sub. Never. And he definitely won’t hurt me. Please. You called me here for a reason. Let me do my job.”
He gestured to the three women huddled together, and they moved toward him like a small herd of baby chicks. God, they were young. When the hell did everyone get so young?
One of the girls was crying, her mascara in streaks down her face. “I’m sorry, Sir. I tried.”
Ryan shrugged. “I guess he wasn’t in the mood for a lap dance.”
“But the music really lends itself to dancing,” the blonde said. “I just wish every Dom was as nice as Master Alex. He would never call a woman a skank.”
“Well, in Master Ian’s defense, he had asked you to stop and then you took off your top,” Ryan argued.
“I was just trying to help.” She turned her eyes to Eve. “I don’t know what the Ice Queen is going to do that I can’t.”
“Amanda!” Ryan shouted over the music.
Amanda, who might look like a baby chick, but who obviously had kitty claws, pouted. “Well, everyone knows how she uses Master Alex when he’s the best Dom in the world. One day he’ll wake up and he’ll see he needs a real sub.”
Eve took a long breath. She should be patient. The girl was young and obviously handicapped by her innate skankiness. Ian had nailed it. It was just part of her personality. “It’s all right, Ryan. Just take her out of here, please.”