I picked up the coffee mug, aware once again that it was the equivalent of a child’s teacup in my giant hand. “What favor?”
I leveled my stare on her, waiting for her to reveal whatever devious scheme she had in the works. Admittedly, Jamie was a good kid. During her teenage years, rather than chase boys, she had focused on her classes, keeping her grades up. Every night, she would regale me and Opa with stories of all the shit she’d learned. She’d graduated high school top in her class, then gone on to college with academic scholarships. And now she was working toward her master’s degree in psychology of all things. Of course, that wouldn’t be enough for Jamie. She had every intention of going on to get her doctoral degree as well.
Jamie stared at her apple juice, wiping the condensation from her glass. “I was thinking maybe I could…”
The girl knew I would do damn near anything for her. The fact she was having a hard time spitting it out bothered me. It was usually the precursor to something I was not going to like.
“What is it, kid?” I used the rough, no-nonsense tone I used with irritating submissives.
She heaved out a breath as she sat up straight. Her words came out in a mad rush. “I was thinking maybe I could go to the club with you. You know, just to check it out. See what it’s all about. Maybe—”
Well, hell. That was easier than I’d expected. “No.”
She huffed, her breath causing her bangs to flop on her forehead. “Come on, Zeke. You didn’t even think about it.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” I took a sip of my coffee and pretended to consider it. “Still no.”
Absolutely no way in hell was I letting that kid in a kink club.
She flopped back and fiddled with her spoon while trying to kill me with a glare. “Why not?”
I lowered my voice and leaned forward. “Because I’m a misogynistic, hypocritical asshole who thinks you have absolutely no business in a BDSM club.”
Jamie rolled her eyes “Pfft. Nice try. I know you better than that.”
I shrugged. “Not gonna happen, kid.”
Her eyes narrowed and she mirrored my position, sitting up straight and cocking her angled chin up. “You know I don’t actually have to ask your permission, right?”
I didn’t respond, swallowing half of my lukewarm coffee.
“I’m twenty-four years old, Zeke. I can go to any club I want.”
I took a sip and glanced out the window, pretending to be ignoring her.
“There’s another club right down—”
I slammed my coffee cup on the table and leaned forward again. “Don’t you dare go to that club, Jamie.”
“Why not?” She had an extra amount of whine in her tone that time. “If you won’t let me in Dichotomy, I have to go somewhere. Razor Wire’s as good a place as any.”
A strange sensation filled my chest. Disbelief mixed with anger. How could she be so damn naive?
“It may not be as nice, Zeke, but—”
“They had two women file rape charges against the owner, Jamie,” I stated firmly, trying to keep my anger in check. “Don’t you go anywhere near that fucking shit hole.”
The waitress appeared and I sat up slowly, never taking my eyes off my sister. I could see her brain working, knew she was trying to come up with an argument.
I waited until our food was in front of us and the waitress had refilled my coffee cup before I leaned close to my baby sister again.
“You have no idea what goes on in those clubs.”
She huffed a laugh but there was no humor in it. “Trust me, I know. That’s why I want to go.” She narrowed her eyes. “So I can find out.”
“No you don’t.” This was a stupid conversation. I couldn’t believe I’d allowed her to drag me into it.
She frowned. “So, why’s it okay for you but not me, huh?” It was obvious she was pissed. “Have you ever thought that maybe I have the same cravings you do?”
I shook my head, thoroughly dislodging every one of those words before they could take root. My kid sister wasn’t allowed to have sexual cravings. Not now. Not ever. And certainly not like mine.
“It’s not like I’m a virgin, Zeke.”
I slammed my hand down on the table, causing the silverware to bounce and drawing attention from several people sitting around us. One man cast a concerned glance my way. I didn’t necessarily blame him. While Jamie might’ve gotten some of the height genes from our father’s side of the family, I still towered over her, dwarfing her with my bulk.
“We’re not talking about this, Jamie. The answer’s no. And don’t you dare go to that … that brothel down the road.”
My sister watched me and I knew without a doubt she was considering doing something stupid.
