Page 17 of Beneath the Surface

“Of the place? Or of you?” Jesse asked gently.

The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. Brad’s fingers tightened around each other, and his gaze dropped to the floor.

“She wasn’t scared of me,” Brad said after a long pause. “At least, I don’t think she was.”

Jesse didn’t press, shifting his approach. “Brad, you’ve been through a lot lately. These murders, the stress of your own past, and now Isobel—it’s a lot to carry. Have you thought about how it’s affecting you?”

“I’m fine,” Brad replied automatically, his tone clipped. “This isn’t about me.”

“It always is,” Jesse said, his gaze steady. “You’re a part of all this—Hot Shots, Isobel, the deaths at Old Mill Lake. The question is whether you’re making decisions with a clear head or letting your emotions dictate your actions.

“You care about her,” Jesse observed. “That’s clear. But if you want to help her, you need to make sure you’re grounded. The last thing either of you needs is for your emotions to pull you into something even more dangerous.”

Brad frowned. “I think this case is the start of trouble, Jesse. I want to protect her, keep her safe. But she’s not…”

“She’s not what?” Jesse cut him off, eyebrow raised, waiting for an answer. “Not submissive?”

Brad’s silence stretched between them, the question hanging in the air. He didn’t answer, but the tell-tale signs of Isobel’s submission flashed in his mind—the way she deferred to him when she was overwhelmed, the trust in her eyes, the unspoken desire to have someone else take the lead when her life got too heavy. Brad knew. He’d known for a while now.

“She’s a psychologist,” Brad finally said, his voice low. “And there’s more to it than just... us. There’s this case. She’s tied up in it, and I need to keep her safe.”

Jesse leaned in, his gaze sharp now, losing the playfulness. “Then stop being a pansy Dom and go after your woman.”

Brad snapped his head toward Jesse, anger flashing for a brief moment. “I’m not a pansy Dom, and she’s not my woman.”

Jesse just laughed, unfazed. “Not yet, she isn’t. But she could be. If you’d stop thinking so damn much. You want to protect her? Then do it. But don’t sit here and whine about it.”

Before Brad could argue, Jesse slid a folder across the bar. “Take a look at these. New potential members. Background checks are in progress. I need your opinion.”

Brad sighed, taking the folder with half-hearted interest. He flipped it open, scanning the list of names, his eyes pausing on one that nearly made him sick. His stomach twisted, and he felt the bile rise in his throat.

John Larson.

“Jesus,” Brad muttered under his breath. “What the hell ishedoing here?”

Jesse reacted to the sudden shift in Brad’s demeanor. “You know him?”

Brad swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady. “Larson. He’s a detective with Waverly County PD. He’s filed an unwarranted complaint against me—blocked me from the investigation into Belle’s case. HPD doesn’t have jurisdiction either. And my boss doesn’t want me to get caught digging.”

Jesse’s face darkened, his amusement gone in an instant. “You’re telling me that bastard wants to be a member here?”

Brad tapped his finger on the name and nodded, his jaw clenched. “And I have no idea why. Well, that’s not true. Why else would a man want to join? But I’m telling you right now, Jesse, he’s hiding something. Something big.”

Jesse leaned forward, his voice low and dangerous. “We don’t let just anyone through those doors, Brad. I’ll dig a little deeper. He has to make it past the psychological interview.” He raised a brow. “He has a pretty decent reference from the owner of Bliss. But if Larson’s involved in something deeper, you need to figure it out. Fast.”

“Bliss.” He knew it was an adult club in the LA area. Brad pushed the folder away, his mind already racing. Larson was a complication he didn’t need, but now he was in the thick of it, and there was no turning back.

His hands tightened into fists as he thought about Isobel, her safety, and the tangled mess of this investigation. “Jesse, can you reach out to the owner of Bliss?” This wasn’t just about protecting her anymore. It was about getting to the bottom of whatever Larson was hiding, no matter the cost.

“Oh, yes, I will. We are going to have a long conversation.”

Seven

The late afternoon sun shone through the blinds of Isobel's apartment. She sat at her kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee that had long gone cold. The events of the past days bothered her terribly, and sleep had been elusive. Fear and uncertainty burned in her gut, leaving her feeling vulnerable and exposed.

Ruth promised to protect her when there was something to protect her from. Detective Larson compounded her feeling when he failed to share details of the new deaths, and even her sister Molly had been ordered not to share details of the autopsies. And she thought of her client, sweet Emma—if she made the wrong decision, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself. Not to mention, the living room conversation with Brad left her confused.

As she sat, lost in thought, her phone buzzed, jolting her back to the moment.

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