Mystery didn’t say anything more. She wanted to see Axel in his environment. She wanted to experience this place for herself. As she thought of that, a shiver zipped up her spine.

They made their way down a long hallway with concrete floors and doors on either side, then Axel led her to one and knocked. He briefly introduced her and Heath to the owner, Mitchell Thorpe. Mystery remembered hearing about him on the news, harboring runaway heiress Callindra Howe for years. Rumors swirled that, though the woman had married the FBI agent tasked with tracking her down when she’d been a fugitive, Thorpe was also involved romantically with the beauty.

The distinguished man in the suit welcomed her. “Axel will keep you comfortable. If you need anything, he’ll take care of you. Callie ordered you three a bunch of Italian. It’s in the kitchen. The action up front will be in full swing in another couple of hours, so . . .”

“I’ll keep her away from there,” Axel finished.

Thorpe nodded. “Good call. If anything happens, you know the drill.”

Axel gave him a thumbs-up. “I’m set. Sean texted me and said he’ll be on standby.”

With a faint grin, Thorpe turned her way. “You’re in good hands. I’ll leave you to them. Callie wants both Sean and I home so we can”—he winked—“rub her feet.”

With that, he was gone. Axel led her down the hall again, toward the back of the building and showed her into a purely masculine suite with a king-sized bed, attached bath, and a window seat that looked cozy for reading.

“I’ll grab your bags from the car, then we can eat. You must be starving.”

She nodded. “I’ll need to call my aunt, too.”

“I’ll leave you to it.” Axel turned to Heath. “Follow me. I have a separate room for you.”

The door shut, enclosing her in silence. So far, this wasn’t what she’d pictured when she’d thought of a BDSM club, and Thorpe certainly didn’t seem like the sort of man to own one. But this room felt comfortable, so she relaxed and dialed her aunt. The woman’s voice mail picked up. Unusual.

With a frown, Mystery hung up without leaving a message. What if the danger had somehow already reached Aunt Gail?

A moment later, she heard a knock, then Axel breezed in, carting her luggage. Every muscle of his arms and shoulders bulged, the veins in his hands and forearms popping. Mystery’s mouth suddenly felt dry.

“Everything all right?” he asked, setting her bags down.

Mystery managed to string her thoughts together enough to explain the call. “Maybe I’m paranoid. Maybe my aunt is still at Bible study.”

“We have no reason to suspect she’s in danger. Relax. You’re safe here. And your aunt is probably fine, too.”

She sincerely hoped so. “Thanks.”

“Let’s go eat. I’ll give you a quick tour. Then . . . we’re going to talk.”

About earlier today. He didn’t say that, but she heard it in his voice, in the disapproval lacing his tone. Before she could broach the subject, he left the room. She followed, watching him pound a fist on the door of the room next to hers.

Heath wrenched the door open. “What is it?”

“Italian food?”

“Please.” He sounded less stiff—barely.

Ten minutes later, the three of them sat in the small kitchen, forking in lasagna and salad with a decent bottle of wine. Axel chugged back a beer, watching them carefully.

“So what’s next?” she asked to break the uncomfortable silence.

“Thorpe put a call into some friends of his, the Santiago brothers.”

Mystery blinked. “The guys who own the defense contracting business?”

“Yeah. Them.” Axel nodded. “They’re happy to let us borrow their corporate jet. Their wife, London, just gave birth to a little girl a few days ago, so they won’t need the plane for a while.”

“Their wife?” Heath asked.

Axel scowled. “Yeah. Don’t judge. It’s not what my ideal marriage looks like, but it works well for them.”

“Sounds like Callie, Thorpe, and Sean share a similar relationship?” she ventured.

“They aren’t public about it, but yeah. And now they’re expecting a baby in November. It’s good to see them happy, but all kinds walk through our doors. Hell, we once had a member who bought a mannequin at a department store closing because, according to him, it held the soul of the love of his life—and his perfect sub.” Axel shrugged. “As long as it’s legal and consensual, whatever floats your boat, I say.”

Mystery snickered. “But a mannequin is kind of funny.”

The conversation dropped away again. The silence grew thicker with each passing moment. Heath stared at Axel with thinly disguised distaste. Axel glared back.

Desperate to end this tension, she pushed her half-eaten meal away. “How about that tour?”

Axel glanced at his plate, then at her face. He rose and held out his hand. “Let’s do it.”

She laced her fingers with his, allowing him to lead her down a long hall. Heath followed, silent and seething. She wished he would go back to his room if he didn’t want to peek into the part of the club where people played, but he kept on behind them, seemingly determined not to let her out of his sight for longer than he must.

With a swipe of a key card, Axel opened a heavy door and gestured her into a darkened room. He flipped on a few switches, and the space illuminated in sections. A bar to the right, a few tables beyond, then a front door and foyer about fifty feet in front of her. So far, she didn’t see much out of the ordinary, just an industrial-looking hangout.

He hesitated, then flipped the last switch. Then the view got really interesting. She knew what most of the items were called from pictures and descriptions, but she’d never seen a spanking bench or a St. Andrew’s Cross in person. She could just imagine Axel cuffing her to a piece of equipment and touching her, giving her both pain and pleasure. Of course anytime he touched her she melted, but imagining him sending her into the intriguing void of subspace made her shiver.

“Wow,” she breathed, squirming as her imagination went wild. “I’m a little . . .”

“Speechless,” he teased.

She laughed. “Obviously.”

“Intrigued?” he asked—and seemed to hold his breath.

Because her opinion on the subject mattered?

“Yeah,” she admitted with a flush. “After you said you were into BDSM when we were in the desert, I looked into it. So intrigued is a good way to put it.”

He squeezed her hand. “I like that answer.” He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I’d love to give you a more personal tour.”

Behind them, Heath cleared his throat. “Escape routes?”

Axel gritted his teeth and turned. “Front and back entrance. There’s a side door from the kitchen you probably noticed.”

“I did,” Heath assured.

“A few interior doors in the building are steel and lock from both inside and out. Thorpe’s office, for one. The bedroom you’re in, Mystery. If something happens or you feel threatened, and no one you trust can get to you, throw the dead bolt from the inside and call the police.”

She nodded. “Got it.”

“But we’ll see someone coming long before then. I’ve got cams all over the parking lot, covering the street out front, and the alley beside us. No one can even reach the door without appearing on film.”

“Thank you for the explanation,” Heath said stiffly.

“You’re welcome. Now if you don’t mind, Mystery and I have some unfinished business.”

Heath squared his shoulders. “Actually, I do mind. I’m her bodyguard, and I stay with her until she’s ready to retire for the night.”

Mystery really didn’t know why Heath was being somewhere between a stick-in-the-mud and an ass. She’d always found him polite and accepting and easy to talk to—until today.

Was he . . . jealous?

When he took her by the arm and led her down the hall, just out of Axel’s earshot, she gaped at him. “What is up with you?”