Page 40 of Master My Love

ERIC’S HEAD POUNDEDfrom the strain of the past few days in San Francisco. Irritability clung to him like a shadow, his patience worn thin when he opened the door to Rossi Security LA and strode into the lobby. The heavy scent of coffee hit him like a slap in the face. He sure could use a cup. Hell, he could use a whole fucking pot, but he walked past the downtime room where the aroma was emanating without slowing, intent on doing what he had to do and get out of there.

Kieran Finnegan, the operations director, looked up from his pile of paperwork, his tired eyes meeting his. “Eric, good to see you. Have a seat,” he said, motioning toward one of two wing-back chairs angled in front of his desk.

Eric slumped into it, the leather creaking beneath him. “I need a break from this madness,” he muttered, rubbing his temples in an attempt to ease the tension. “Did you ever think we’d get this busy so fast? And the referrals keep coming. We could open three more California offices and keep them busy with what we’ve got running through one.”

“I called San Antonio. Cap said help is on the way.”

That was a bright spot in his day, at least. Val would be another if he could ever wrap this up and get to her.

Kieran leaned forward with his hands folded over his stack of files. “Give me a rundown on the Cassidy case.”

Taking a deep breath, Eric recounted the chaotic events. “As you’re aware, Brendan hired us to provide protection services here in LA. Two weeks ago, out of the blue, he announced his show was going on location in San Francisco. And not in a studio. He expected us to pull bodyguards out of our asses and keep him safe 300 miles away on a busy unsecured city street, in Golden Gate Park, and at a local coffee shop which is ‘the’ place to go in the entire Bay area, evidently. I wanted to wring his neck.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t. What stopped you?”

“I see the monthly P&L statements and the volume of billable hours he brings to the office. So, I slapped on a customer-is-always-right smile and scrambled. I flew up with Lync and Jorge, who grew up there and volunteered to pitch in. I pulled a few shifts myself until the two independent contractors I hired were up to speed.”

“It was bad timing with me out of town. I appreciate all you did.”

“We deal,” he said, shrugging it off. They worked as a team or wouldn’t be nearly as successful as they were here and at the club. “He’s been receiving hate mail and death threats ever since his character killed off the lead actress. I couldn’t leave him hanging.”

“I bet you were tempted. The man is a royal pain in the arse.”

Kieran was Irish, his brogue thickening when he was tired, which he obviously was. Eric usually kidded him for saying arse, but like him, he didn’t have the energy.

“Why would the fans blame him and not the writers?” he asked.

“Because they were involved, and he recently broke it off with her. As the producer, he had the power to have the writers write his ex out of the show.”

“Ah... That explains it.”

“Can you believe this shit over a character on a fucking TV show?” The memory of the devoted fan’s hate mail brought a hint of annoyance to Eric’s voice. “These people take nighttime soaps way too seriously. They need to get a life.”

“Agreed. But in the meantime, it pays the bills.”

“Yeah, and Cassidy is covered, and not blowing up our phones.”Eric pushed to his feet. “The SFPD pulled some prints from the letters sent to the studio. I’m not hopeful they’ll turn up anything, but maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“Are you heading home? You should. You look as tired as I feel.”

“If I looked as tired as you do, I might. But no, I’m on my way to the club. I’ve got a new sub in need of a partner in class. If she hasn’t given up on me and found another dom since I’m late.”

“Is that a possibility?”

“It better not fucking be,” he growled, the notion that Val might slip through his fingers increasing his tension.

His friend let out a deep sigh. “I need a night at Decadence. It’s been a while.”

“I also see the attendance logs. It’s been months, my friend.” Like him, Kieran was an overachiever. He recalled Val’s comment about that. “You know what they say about all work and no play?”

“No. What?”

“You don’t have that expression in Belfast?”Eric asked, raising an eyebrow.

Kieran shook his head, the slight motion seeming like it took an effort.

“It means take a night off, find an eager and willing sub to play with, and de-stress, man, before you explode.”

His friend’s gaze drifted to his cluttered desk, the mountain of paperwork threatening to topple over. “I believe I’ll do that. This weekend. Count on me.”

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