Chapter 3

The ringing cell phone woke her sometime later. Feeling a little disoriented as she struggled to dispel the last dream tendrils, she fumbled for it, not bothering to look at the caller ID before opening the device. “Hello?”

“Ms. Collins?”

“Yes.” She recognized his voice immediately. It held that same deep, smoky note as it did in person. “Mr. Talos?”

“Yes. I have some information for you. I think we should talk in person. Could I take you to dinner?”

She blinked, struggling to focus on the clock by the bed. No wonder she felt like hell, after less than four hours of sleep. “Yes, that’s fine. Do you mind coming to my hotel?”

“No, but I think we’ll find it impossible to get reservations for FIG.”

“The Lobby Lounge is fine.”

“Okay. When should I meet you?”

Sable bit back a yawn. “Give me thirty minutes.”

Julian said, “That’s about how long it will take to get to The Fairmont. Do you want me to come to your room?”

“No, I’ll just meet you down there.” It seemed like a bad idea having the man in her room, since she knew next to nothing about him, other than he was big on the BDSM scene for his line of products and videos.

In a little less than thirty minutes, Sable took a quick shower, dressed in gauzy silver slacks and a black and silver sleeveless tunic, confined her dark-brown hair in a high ponytail, and managed to throw on a dash of makeup. Her head still felt fuzzy, and she resolved not to drink any alcohol. As she neared the lounge, she saw Julian standing near the entrance, discreetly checking his watch.

“Mr. Talos,” she said as she neared. “Thank you for coming.”

He shrugged. “Please call me Julian.”

Sable nodded. “I’m Sable.”

Julian smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I remember.”

She stiffened slightly at the frisson of awareness racing up her spine when he placed his hand on her lower back to guide her into the lounge. It was a relief to escape his touch and sit down in one of the plush chairs. It was unlike her to react so strongly to someone she didn’t know, and that was the last complication she needed right now.

Somehow, she managed to hold back her curiosity long enough for them to order meals and drinks. Once the waiter left the table, she leaned closer to Julian, glad the restaurant wasn’t very busy tonight. “What did you find out?”

Julian sighed. “Nothing good.”

Her heart sank, and she realized she had pinned too much hope on this man solving her problem and finding her sister. “What?”

“As far as I could tell, there’s only one D/s community in Colorado. It’s near enough to Aspen to be convenient, but far enough away to be private.”

“Do you know how to get there?” Julian nodded. Sable opened her purse, searching for the pen and paper she’d tucked in last-minute. “How do I find it?”

“Look, it won’t do any good for me to tell you.”

Sable froze. “What?”

Julian sighed. “It’s a private community. There are probably a few people living there who aren’t in the lifestyle, but the names I heard from my friend lead me to believe this one has tighter security than most.”

“Why?”

“Stephen Pollox, Amanda Grietz, James Dover…do you recognize those names?”

With a frown, she nodded. “I don’t know much about them, but I’ve heard their names before. Why?”

“They all live there. Stephen Pollox runs a pharmaceutical company. Amanda Grietz is a hotshot financial whiz, and James Dover is in computer technology. They’re all wealthy, powerful people, and there are several others just like them living in Rack, Colorado.”

“That’s an odd name,” she said inanely.

He shrugged. “I suspect it’s a bit of an inside joke, referring to R-A-C-K.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s an acronym for risk-aware consensual kink.” He paused while the waiter served their drinks—Bloody Mary for him and an iced tea for her. After the man left, he said, “RACK refers to the general tolerance for risky play or activities, as long as everyone involved is a willing participant.”

She nodded, too tired to mentally dissect everything he’d said. “Fine. I’ll find it myself.” Sable started to get up, too tired to make polite conversation with a man whose proclivities were strange and scary.

Julian put a hand on her wrist, applying enough pressure to make her sit again, but not hurting her. “Please listen to me, Sable. You can go to Rack, but you won’t learn anything. The residents will know you aren’t one of them and close ranks. If you run off to Rack, all you’ll do is stir up trouble and give someone a chance to hide what they’re doing, if someone is mistreating your sister.”

His words made sense, and she relaxed into her seat with a sigh, absently rubbing at her wrist—not because he’d hurt her, but more to erase the feel of his fingers. “What do I do? Should I call the police?”

Julian shook his head. “From what I gather, the police department is small, and I’d bet most, if not all, of the officers are in the lifestyle. They’ll likely protect their own.”

Sable slumped forward. “What am I supposed to do?”