Teach me to be early.
Then again, it was a wonder I’d waited this long. Ever since I woke up this morning—after four fitful hours of sleep—I’d been antsy, something I was not familiar with and didn’t much care for. What I wanted to do was storm the door of the room Talon was in and insist he speak to me now. Considering it truly was a matter of life or death, I figured he might listen to reason.
However, I was not that man. I did not let emotion rule my actions—not hastily, anyway. I hadn’t since the night I fled with my sister, and I damn sure did not intend to start now.
Thankfully, I only had to rap my fingertips on the upholstered arm of this overpriced chair for ten minutes before the door opened and Talon strolled in, looking right at home in his five-thousand-dollar bespoke suit and silk tie.
The man was an imposing figure. Topping out at six feet eight inches with a long, rangy body that was chiseled to perfection—not too skinny, not too bulky—jet-black hair sporting a two-hundred-dollar cut, styled with care and precision, Talon drew attention when he walked into a room. Hands down the best dressed man I knew, along with an angular, clean-shaven face and keen eyes the color of cold, hard steel, his presence was impossible to ignore.
No one knew much about Talon’s heritage because he didn’t share that sort of information, but I’d say there was likely some Cuban in there somewhere, if he wasn’t full-blood. How did I come to this conclusion? A few reasons. His skin color was on the lighter side of copper, his values and beliefs strong, and he had a preference for Café Cubano. And yes, I realized that was me stereotyping, something I despised. What I really based my guess on was that, every now and then, I’d detect a distinct accent, something he’d probably spent much of his life concealing.
Add in the deep baritone and his straightforward method of communication and one might find oneself intimidated.
For the record, I didn’t intimidate easily.
“I’ll preface this with an apology,” I said quickly, ensuring he knew I was not one to ask for impromptu meetings unless it was absolutely necessary. “I hate to impose, but … well, I need your help.”
Talon tucked his hands into the pockets of his charcoal slacks, regarded me closely. “I figured you’d have a long list of friends you’d prefer to go to for such a thing.”
“I consider you a friend, Talon.”
Those dark gray eyes leveled on my face, studied me before Talon finally gestured toward the chair across from his desk. “Please, have a seat.”
I unbuttoned my suit jacket, which I’d donned for this meeting specifically, then positioned myself in one of the leather chairs placed for guests.
Before sitting in his own chair, Talon lifted a hand, motioned by tapping his index finger in the air twice.
I was aware of a man moving toward us. He appeared beside Talon’s desk, standing tall and gallant despite the fact he was wearing only a pair of jeans and a thick metal collar around his neck. It was rare for anyone to catch a glimpse of the sexual slaves Talon kept, but I’d heard rumors about them.
“Would you like something to drink?” Talon offered.
“Whatever you’re having’s fine,” I answered, admiring the way the man stood, as though every fiber of his being was dedicated to fulfilling Talon’s every need.
Talon didn’t speak, simply nodded his head at the other man, who in turn gave a quick nod then reversed course.
“How can I assist?” Talon prompted, taking a seat and leaning back in his chair.
Dragging my attention back, I swallowed hard. “I need a favor.”
He said nothing, clearly waiting for me to elaborate.
“It’s a big one, Talon, one I’m hesitant to ask for, but … well, I can’t think of another way to handle this.”
“Handle what?”
“I have some things I need to take care of,” I explained. “Things I’ve put off far too long now. It’ll require I go off the grid for a while.”
“This have something to do with your family?”
I stared back at him, doing my best not to give anything away. Like Talon, I rarely shared details about myself with anyone. Need to know was my motto, and as far as I was concerned, there was rarely anyone—save for Zeke Lautner—who needed to know anything about me or my family.
Talon surprised me then, a cunning smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “We’ve been friends for years, have we not? And you’re aware of who I am and what it is I do. Surely you suspected I’d done a deep dive on you.”
Honestly, I hadn’t thought much about it. “And what, pray tell, did you uncover?”
“Probably more than you thought I would.”
“Really?”
“Not initially, no. But I’m nothing if not persistent. When I hit a brick wall, I decided to dig a little deeper.”
I frowned. “So you’re aware of my sister?”
“Braelyn? Yes.” He must’ve sensed my fury, because he added, “Don’t worry, your secrets are yours. I have no need to share them with anyone.”
Before I could form a reply, the shirtless man returned, delivering two mugs of coffee. He placed one in front of Talon, the other in front of me before resuming his position near the wall as he waited for Talon to assign him another task.
“I take it you’re not aware I’ve encountered your sister once before,” Talon said.
The admission shocked me, had me frowning. “What? When?”
“Halloween before last. TJ’s house. She came looking for you.”
She had? Why the hell had she not told me this?
“After attempting to contact you and failing, she mentioned Zeke. I tried him, got confirmation you were at Dichotomy, otherwise engaged. After I relayed this information to her, I had her escorted safely home. I figured she’d told you. Evidently, you were supposed to drive her home from yoga that night?”
He phrased the last part as a question, as though attempting to trigger the memory. Didn’t work.
I shook my head, at a loss. Who else knew about her?
“I told no one,” Talon added, as though he could read my thoughts. “Didn’t feel it was my place.” He studied me for a second. “What is it you need from me, Ransom?”
“I need you to hide my sister,” I blurted.
“Hide her?” His laugh was dark and laced with incredulity. “You really trust me with your sister, Ransom?”
Yes, I realized exactly what I was asking and to whom I was asking. Talon had a reputation, at least in our BDSM circle, known mostly for his lack of empathy toward submissives and his desire never to take one more than once. More interesting than that, I suspected that was a persona he’d developed for the club scene. Underneath the hardcore Master facade, I got the feeling there was something much, much darker.
But he wasn’t the only one who knew things.
“No,” I admitted. “I don’t fully trust anyone with Braelyn. But her safety is paramount, and right now, there’s no one I trust more to get her off the grid for a little while.”
“And how do you propose I do that?”
“Hire her. She’s on the verge of getting fired as it is. My fault, of course. I’ve made it nearly impossible for her to be punctual.”