Page 14 of Breaking Free

Her friend glanced at her outfit—a T-shirt and shorts that reached mid-thigh—nothing remotely scandalous.

“What’s wrong with the way you dress?” she inquired, sounding offended on her behalf. “And why is it any of his business?”

“That’s what I said!” She threw her hands up in frustration but also felt validated. “He thinks I’m asking for trouble by flaunting my assets.”

“Oh my god! He actually said that?”

“I’m paraphrasing. What he said was even worse.” Piper sniffed disdainfully. “He attempted to justify it by claiming his advice was based on a security professional’s perspective.”

“That part is true, at least,” Josie admitted. “He works for a reputable security company here in town. They frequently make headlines.”

“Really? How so?”

“Their specialty is ‘protection for the stars,’ but they also handle investigations and have successfully solved several high-profile cases. One standout case I remember involved a serial rapist the LAPD couldn’t catch. I wasn’t living here at the time, but Hunter mentioned that the entire city was on edge because, after he finished with them, the victims turned up in dumpsters—dead.”

“That’s horrifying,” Piper gasped. “When did all of this happen?”

Josie shrugged. “Around a year ago, maybe? Definitely over eight months ago, which was when I moved from New York. The city was still buzzing about it because it had just happened. Hunter and practically everyone I met who knew I was a transplant warned me to be careful.”

Piper leaned back in her chair, trying to process this new information in light of everything Tristan had said. “It being so recent, maybe I stir up memories of the victims.”

“That’s a possibility. He also has a military background. Those guys have a strong inclination to protect and defend. Tristan, being special forces, was deployed to Afghanistan a lot. I can’t imagine what he experienced, but it must have been some pretty bad stuff.”

“Do you think he has PTSD?”

“I don’t know about that, but several in his unit were injured, and a few never made it home. That kind of bad.”

“Also, according to Hunter?”

“Yeah.” Josie laughed softly. “Be careful what you tell him. He’s not exactly a vault, is he?”

Piper’s shoulders slumped. “Now I feel bad for calling him a jerk.”

“You didn’t!” Josie exclaimed.

“I did. Twice.”

“He’s probably coming off that way because... Maybe I shouldn’t say.”

“Say what?”

Josie simply stared back at her.

“You can’t spill some beans and then suddenly hit pause. You’ve got to tell me now!”

“He’s a dominant. You know, into BDSM.”

She could have knocked her over with a feather. Out of all the things she might have guessed she would say, that wasn’t one of them.

“And he belongs to a club,” Josie explained further. “We can’t lay the blame on Hunter for spilling this time. Members at Decadence have confidentiality agreements, but sometimes my customers talk.”

Josie’s leather fetish-wear customers. Suddenly, the image of a bare-chested Tristan with the length of a black whip coiled around his feet flashed before her eyes. It intrigued and aroused her more than it should have.

“Speaking of the club. They’re hosting a vendor day in a few weeks. I’m going to be there showing off my wares, and I’ve been looking for someone to help.”

“Are you suggesting... Me?” Piper squeaked both excited and appalled by the idea.

She’d seen theFifty Shadesmovies—who hadn’t? And read several books in the genre. But they were stuff of fantasy. She never imagined setting foot inside a dungeon—ever.

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