Page 41 of For the Sub

“Need a hand?”

“John, isn’t it?” Niles asked the tall, lanky man.

The man nodded and offered a beer.

“You’re a friend for life,” Niles said by way of thanks as he accepted the bottle of microbrew.

“So how did you meet Brandy?”

Instead of replying, Niles answered with a question of his own, “Who are you to her?”

“Husband of her best friend.” He shrugged.

“You drew the short straw?” Niles asked with a short laugh. “You had to be the one to check me out, see who I am, what my intentions are?”

John lifted his beer in acknowledgement of the guess. “Margot is curious. Brandy hasn’t brought anyone to a party in at least two years. And since she didn’t say anything in advance, Margot’s freaking out a bit. Those two share everything.”

“I’m not a serial killer.” Niles took a drink of the beer.

“So what do you do for a living?”

Niles studied the man.

Had John seen any of his videos? But then, what would it say about the man if he came right out and asked? “I own a video production company.”

“Anything I might have seen?”

“You tell me.” When John remained silent, but glanced away, Niles continued, “Does your wife know what you watch online?”

“Look, man…” He dragged a hand into his hair.

“Then you know enough to understand that Brandy is safe with me,” Niles finished.

“She means something to you?”

“Enough to ensure her mental and emotional, as well as physical wellbeing.”

After taking a drink, John nodded. “If you hurt her, my wife will kill you.”

His Brandy inspired a lot of loyalty, both from her friends and at the Den.

Before the interrogation could continue, she joined them. “How’s it going?” She stood between them to glance, first at John, then at Niles.

Apparently sensing the tension, she leveled a look at her friend, then asked, “Is Margot making you do her dirty work?”

Niles put down his drink and draped his arm across Brandy’s shoulders, drawing her in close. She laid her head against his chest.

Having her there seemed natural, as if they’d done it a hundred times.

She snuggled in, smelling of promise, and warming him with her sweet body heat.

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” John pleaded.

“Not to worry,” she said. “Master Niles only beats people who ask him nicely.”

“Brandy,” Niles warned, but he couldn’t keep the mirth out of his tone. This tiny spitfire was ruffled on his behalf.

“I’m sorry, Sir, but I won’t have you treated badly when you’re a guest in my home.”

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