Page 64 of Brave
“Asshole dom by the name of Ethen O’Dowell had her under his control for I don’t know how many years. Called himself the Menagerie Master, turned each of his subs into an animal, so to speak. Pony’s the last one. I don’t even know what he did to her, really. I just know she’s about as broken as a slave can get. I mean, she’s completely non-functioning—can’t hold a job, dress herself, make a decision—”
“Ethen O’Dowell?”
“Yeah. A real nasty piece of work. He’s been in jail for a while, but he’s about to get out. He cut his subs loose already, but of course she thinks she loves him and she’s not taking it well. A dom I know has been sort of taking care of her, but mostly because he’s got a vested interest in one of the others. The relationship between the two subs, though…” Spencer shook his head.
“Ethen O’Dowell…” Marcus muttered again, and this time, something in the distracted tone he used caught Spencer’s attention. “Why do I know that name?”
“He was pretty infamous in the news for a while.”
Marcus swore. “I think I talked to that guy. Was he a lawyer?”
Straightening in his chair, Spencer’s attention locked on the phone call. “You talked to him?”
“If it’s the guy I’m thinking of, then yeah. He came up to me after a class I was teaching on the power of control and suggestion in BDSM relationships. Jesus, he wanted… something about deepening his command over his sub. But the things he was talking about…” Marcus trailed off, swearing softly again.
“What did you tell him?”
“Hell, I don’t remember what he asked anymore. It’s been a couple years. I just remember some of what he wanted to do was reminiscent of cult-like brainwashing.”
His gut sinking, Spencer said, “Tell me you didn’t.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve spent my life trying to undo the damage guys like him inflict on other people. No way in hell would I ever tell someone how to do that shit.”
“Well, he figured it out somewhere.” Spencer rubbed his face again. “Now I have to figure out how to undo it.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yeah, I do,” Spencer snapped back, as annoyed with himself as he had been at Carlson earlier for voicing the same stupid thing. “It happened in my club, right under my nose. Not once, or twice, but four times. Four submissives were hurt in my house, under my watch.”
Marcus’s slow, heavy exhale ended in a growl. “Give me a couple days. I’ll make some phone calls and see who in the field might be willing to take this on.”
“Thanks, man.” Ending the call, Spencer dropped his cellphone on the desk. Frowning, he glared at the wall, but he already knew. If Marcus came up empty-handed, he was prepared to take on Pony in himself, at least long enough to find her a more suitable Dom. He had no idea what he was going to do or how even to broach the subject with Klara. Hell, he didn’t even want Pony.
But someone had to be responsible for undoing Ethen’s damage.
And Black Light was his house.
Chapter 16
Cynthia’s hands shook. She tugged at the hem of her blouse, fidgeting with the buttons to make sure they were straight, checking her collar, checking her hair. Checking the new fake nails that, just like her clothes, Carlson had paid for. The thick, blunt, rounded ends made it impossible to pick at herself when she was nervous. Which was good, otherwise she was pretty sure she’d have bled all over herself by now.
“You look good, honey,” Carlson said from the driver’s side of his car, the corner of his mouth curling in a smile.
Blowing out a pent in breath, Cynthia nodded. “Don’t you think I need more practice?”
“Nope,” he said with the kind of confidence she envied all the way to her soul. “You know this backwards and forwards. You’ve been doing this all week with Spencer and we went over the questions twice last night and once this morning.”
“But what if I fail?”
“Then you turn in another application somewhere else and start over. It’s not the end of the world. But you’re qualified for this job, and I think you’ve got a good chance of getting it.”
She rubbed her stomach as he pulled into the library parking lot.
“Ah,” he said, and she quickly dropped her hands to her lap, but as much to keep from ruining her clothes as to obey his wordless censure. She clasped her hands instead, squeezing at her fingers as if squeezing hard enough might keep her burgeoning nerves from overtaking her.
“You’ve got this,” he said, again with all the confidence she just didn’t have.
He seemed to say that to her all the time these days. Somewhere along the way, he had become her rock. She couldn’t imagine where she would be right now without him, but she knew it wouldn’t have been here, in the parking lot in front of this intimidating building, about to do the most frightening thing in the world.
