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hot sex, and the next day she’d see him all over another woman. And she knew she couldn’t deal with that.
    Dean tapped softly on the door and stepped in holding a tray with two bowls. He set the tray on a swiveling, hospital-style table which could be positioned over Silver’s lap. The rich scent of stewed beef rose from the bowls, and Becky’s mouth watered as she took in the thick, beef bourguignon.
    “Eat up.” Dean folded his arms over his chest, his black silk shirt clearly outlining his biceps, nicely sized even though they weren’t as big as Landon’s. Then again, very few men on the team had her brother’s build. And as the Cobras General Manager, Dean Richter didn’t really need it. But he kept as fit as his men, and between his physical strength, and the sheer power of his presence, he was quite intimidating. Even more so since his command had been directed to Becky. Along with his next words. “We’re going out.”
    Becky stared at him. Her face heated, and she looked over at Silver. “But—”
    Silver licked gravy off her spoon, letting out an appreciative moan. “This is delicious, Dean! Oh, and I think that’s a great idea. What did Landon say?”
    Dean chuckled, bending over to kiss Silver’s forehead. “He obviously didn’t want details, but he vaguely implied Becky should spend some time at the club.”
    “ Landon suggested this?” Hell, if Dean wasn’t with Silver and her brother, Becky would be flattered. More than a little tempted. But he was and this could get unbearably awkward. “Sir, I appreciate the offer, but—”
    “You won’t play with me , pet.” Smoothing his hand over her hair, Dean gave her a level look. “But I will find someone to take you out of your head for a little bit. All your focus has been on your daughter, on your new position with the team. You need some time to let someone take care of you.”
    “Dean, I can’t—”
    “You can and you will.” Amusement sparked in his eyes. “I trust you don’t need help getting dressed?”
    All she could do was shake her head and stop herself from smacking Silver when the younger woman giggled.
    * * * *
    Not in the mood for leather and props, Zach slid onto a bench at the bar in Blades & Ice, dressed in worn jeans and a faded grey Cobra T-shirt. The BDSM club was ringing with excitement, with life, but none of the energy reached him. A heaviness settled on his chest, as though he’d lifted too much weight and didn’t even have the strength left for the roll of shame. All he could do was let it crush him.
    You knew Scott wouldn’t stay.
    Resting a hand on the motorcycle helmet he’d dropped on the seat beside him when he’d come in, Zach waved to the Domme manning the bar. Chicklet came over but paused with the whiskey bottle in her hand.
    “You sure?”
    Zach arched a brow. “Did I give you the impression I was here to play?”
    “With the right sub? I don’t see why not.” Chicklet propped her elbows on the bar, her black, partially shredded metal studded T-shirt stretching around her broad shoulders. Not big enough to make her butch, but close. Between her beer league and practicing with the whip, the woman was in excellent shape. She intimidated most—even the Doms—but not Zach. He simply respected her as the equal she was. And had come to value her opinion. “I could have told you getting mixed up with Demyan was a bad idea. Find yourself a nice, passive twink that will appreciate you. Wayne’s got the flu. His sub would love some attention.”
    Swiveling on his chair, Zach searched the room for the big bouncer’s lithe sub, Mickey. The young man was serving drinks. Keeping him busy was the only way to prevent him from approaching every Dom and Domme in the club with pleading, puppy-dog eyes. Without his Dom around to rein him in, he practically reeked of desperation.
    Taking Mickey on would be worse than accepting the little Scott was willing to offer. Easy. Shallow. Zach needed substance