Page 3 of The Foreman
A file full of damning emails had appeared in her sent mail, all supposedly written by her. Deleted access logs showed her badge in restricted labs. Her apartment had been searched, and the flash drive they’d found was the same one she’d refused to plant when the corporate intel unit asked her to spy.
It was all too perfect.
Macy shoved her foot harder onto the gas pedal, cursing as the old Honda Civic hydroplaned over a stretch of standing water. She righted it with a jerk, heart pounding, hair plastered to her forehead. The little blue dot on her GPS blinked toward a private access road marked with a wrought-iron gate and a familiar logo: The Iron Spur.
She’d sworn she'd never come back.
Hell, three years ago she’d sworn she wouldn’t. Not after they tossed her out like bad bar stock. But desperate times call for desperate solutions.She was out of options. Framed, hunted, and scared out of her damn mind.
And Trace McRae? He might be her only shot at survival.
1
MACY
The rain hammered down like the universe was pissed off personally, and Macy was pretty sure the sentiment was mutual.
The tires squealed as she pulled into the circular drive, storm lashing at the entrance. She jumped out, hoodie soaked within seconds, and ran for the doors.
The Iron Spur hadn’t changed. Leather-clad doors. Heavy scent of wood polish and bourbon. An air of discipline so thick it probably had its own safe word. She hadn’t walked through these doors in three years, and yet her pulse still kicked the same traitorous rhythm it had the first time.
The receptionist—a bored-looking blonde with librarian glasses—looked up in mild alarm.
"We’re closed, except to private appointments. Do you have an appointment?"
"Tell Reed Malone Macy Dane is here," she snapped.
The woman typed in her name and clucked her tongue. "I'm sorry, Ms. Dane, but my records indicate you've been banned."
"Then call security. Or Reed. Or whoever the hell's in charge tonight. Just don't leave me standing here. I swear, if one morething jumps out of the dark, I might scream. Not that I scare easy or anything. Obviously."
The woman hesitated. Macy crossed her arms. The receptionist tapped her keyboard.
Two minutes later, the door swung open, and Reed Malone stepped into the foyer like a storm of his own. Tall, hard-edged, and assessing. His gaze swept Macy from head to toe, taking in the drenched hoodie, the wild eyes, the desperate edge.
"Macy."
"Reed."
"Why are you here?"
She laughed. It came out more brittle than brave. "Because someone framed me for murder, and I figured getting spanked by Trace might actually be the less painful option."
He didn’t smile. Just nodded once and gestured. "Office. Now. Sit tight. One of us will be with you shortly. How much trouble are you in?"
"So much that I'm here. This is the last place I'd ever thought I'd be again. But I think you're the only ones who can help me."
Reed nodded as she moved past the open door and heard a sound that caught her attention coming from one of the minor stages on the dungeon floor. A low, feminine moan threaded with the soft hiss of leather. The club’s walls muffled most of the noise, but the acoustics of this place were intentional. Always had been.
She shouldn’t look. She didn’t mean to.But she did.
A woman knelt on a padded bench, arms bound overhead, her back arched in perfect submission. A man in a dark tailored vest traced a leather crop along the curve of her spine, his voice murmuring something Macy couldn’t hear but felt anyway. The woman shuddered and whimpered, but there was no fear in the sound. Only anticipation and hunger.
Macy felt it like a phantom touch against her own skin.
Memory surged. Trace’s voice, low in her ear. His hand closing around her wrist in that measured, dominant way. The exact kind of restraint that had once made her curious enough to burn.
She stopped for a moment and then tore her gaze away as she stumbled forward. But her heartbeat didn’t settle.God help her, she missed this. Not just the club, but the tension, the structure, the dizzying power exchange that flipped everything inside her upside down.
