Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Maggie

S omewhere in Kansas

Present Day

Dr. Margaret "Maggie" Dillon stood on the porch of her family's sprawling heritage ranch, the wide Kansas sky stretching endlessly above her. The air was thick with the scent of hay and earth, the sounds of cattle lowing in the distance, mingling with the wind rustling through the tall grass. It was a scene she had grown up with, a part of her as much as the blood in her veins. Yet, she had always felt a tug, a yearning for something more—something beyond the rolling plains and the predictable rhythm of ranch life.

Her family, the Dillons, were as Kansas as it got. Generations had worked this land, and those who didn't were in law enforcement, like her brother Matt, or some a blend of both. Maggie was the odd one out, the rebel. Instead of following in her family's footsteps, she had chosen a path that took her to the farthest corners of the earth. While her siblings wrangled cattle and upheld the law, she delved into the mysteries of ancient civilizations, unearthing the stories of people long gone.

Her parents had never understood her fascination with history, with the ancient and the buried. But Maggie couldn't shake the thrill she felt the first time she'd held a shard of pottery, thousands of years old, in her hands. It was a connection to something timeless, something larger than the small, insular world she had grown up in. Archaeology had captured her heart, and she had never looked back.

Maggie's phone buzzed, pulling her from her reverie. She glanced at the screen—a message from Matt.

See you at the club tonight? Need to talk.

She sighed, already anticipating the conversation. Matt had been grumbling ever since she told him about her upcoming dig in Syria. He didn't like it, not one bit. He'd given her the usual spiel about how dangerous it was with the region's instability, especially now. But Maggie had always been stubborn, and this dig was too important to pass up. She'd been working toward it for years, and now that it was finally within reach, she wasn't about to let her little brother's overprotective streak hold her back.

She sent a quick reply confirming she'd meet him, then pocketed her phone. There was a twinge of nervousness as she thought about Club Southside, the place where Matt wanted to meet. It wasn't the kind of establishment she frequented—hell, it wasn't the kind of place she'd ever even thought about going to. But Matt had been a member for a while, and his enthusiasm for the club had piqued her curiosity. She wasn't exactly sure what she was walking into, but Maggie had always been one to jump into the unknown with both feet.

Later that evening, Maggie stood outside Club Southside, looking up at the unassuming building. As her plane had a stop in Chicago, Maggie had decided to spend a day or two in the Windy City to check in with her brother, Matt. It didn't give much away from the outside with its simple, dark facade and discreet signage listing Cerberus on the top line and Club Southside on the bottom. If you didn't know what you were looking for, you could easily miss it. But inside, she knew, was a world entirely different from the one she'd grown up in.

She sure as hell wasn't in Kansas anymore.

Maggie took a deep breath, adjusted the strap of her bag, and stepped inside. The first thing that struck her was the atmosphere—the foyer was gorgeous with marble floors, gorgeous, paneled walls, and an elegance that harkened back to jazz clubs and speakeasies. There was an air of quiet sophistication. It was nothing like the honky-tonk bars she was used to back home. A large reception desk stood in the lobby, staffed by two lovely women who took her name and called Matt to let him know she was here. The people who came and went through the space did so with a kind of deliberate grace, their conversations hushed, their movements purposeful. Some went up the stairs, others took the elevator, and still others were buzzed through the large double doors to what Maggie assumed was the club.

She felt out of place, her curiosity tempered by a growing unease. She was a stranger in a strange land, and it showed.

"Dr. Dillon?" asked one of the receptionists. "Your brother asked me to ask you whether you'd be more comfortable up in the office or if you'd prefer to go into the lounge?"

That little shit, she thought, even though Matt was far taller than she was. He thought she'd chicken out and retreat to the Cerberus office upstairs. Well, she'd show him.

"Any chance a girl can get a drink and something to eat?"

The girl grinned. Maggie had the distinct impression she knew exactly what Matt had tried to do. "Food and drink are both available. I'll let them know to put it on your brother's tab."

Maggie laughed. "Lounge it is."

She followed the woman through the enormous doors. Inside, there was dim lighting, low music, and an air of quiet sophistication. Not at all what she'd thought a sex club would look like. Oh, her brother might call it a ‘lifestyle club,' but Maggie wasn't so unhip that she didn't know what went on behind these closed doors.

Once inside the lounge, she scanned the area, looking for her brother, but it was the bar that caught her attention first. Not the polished wood or the rows of bottles behind it, but the man standing behind the counter, tall and broad-shouldered, his dark eyes sweeping over the patrons with a cool, detached interest. He didn't appear to be the bartender per se but was helping himself to a glass of whiskey.

She had no idea who he was, but he had to be the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen. She felt her whole erotic system come online. He was dressed in black leather pants and vest—no shirt—showing off his cut chest and sculpted abs. He was ruggedly handsome and had the look of someone who had spent a lot of time in the sun. She'd never had as visceral reaction to a man as she did to him. He was a tall drink of water, and she had a powerful thirst she was pretty sure he could quench.

"That's Kane," said the receptionist. "He's one of our newer members—both at the club and Cerberus—but he's been a Dom for years, and he's been certified in some of the more extreme forms of play."

Maggie wasn't sure how she felt about that, but she couldn't deny the pull of curiosity. Kane was magnetic in a way that unsettled her, his presence commanding attention without a word.

As if sensing her gaze, Kane looked up, his eyes locking onto hers. Maggie's breath caught in her throat, and she quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. But before she could dwell on it, she spotted Matt making his way over to her.

"Hey, Mags," he greeted her with a warm hug. "Glad you could make it. I wasn't sure if you'd want to meet in here and grab something to eat or go upstairs and then head out."

Liar. "Wouldn't miss it," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "This might not be my usual scene, but the club is beautiful. I can see why you and Pippa like it here."

Matt chuckled, guiding her to a nearby table, which overlooked the dungeon floor. "Yeah, I figured as much. But I wanted you to see it for yourself before you head out. Thought it might give us a chance to talk."

Maggie raised an eyebrow. "Talk about what, exactly?"

Matt didn't answer right away. Instead, he flagged down a server and ordered drinks for them both. Once they were settled, he leaned in, his expression serious. "I'm worried about you, Maggie. Syria's not a safe place right now. You know that, don't you?"

Maggie bristled. She'd been expecting this, but it didn't make it any easier to hear. "I'm not a child, Matt. I know what I'm getting into."

"Do you?" Matt's tone was sharper than she'd ever heard it. "This isn't just about some academic dig. There are real dangers out there—militias, terrorists, you name it. And you're going in practically blind."

"I'm not going in blind," she argued. "I've done my research. I know the risks."

"Research?" Matt scoffed. "Maggie, this isn't a paper you can write your way out of. This is real life, and you're walking into a war zone."

Maggie opened her mouth to retort, but a sudden commotion at the other end of the room caught her attention. The crowd had shifted and was walking down to the dungeon floor.

"What's happening?" Maggie asked, her argument with Matt momentarily forgotten.

Matt glanced through the viewing window onto a raised stage that had a spotlight directed to it. "Fire play," he said. "Kane's giving a demonstration."

"Fire play?"

"Yeah, it looks far more dangerous than it is. It is a total mind fuck."

Kane stood with his back to the crowd, his attention focused on a woman who was strapped down to a padded leather table. The woman was completely naked. She saw a wand-like implement with a mushroom-shaped head.

"Is that some kind of weird vibrator?" she asked.

If her question had shocked her brother, he didn't let it show. "No. It's a violet wand. And that spider-like webbing he's spreading over parts of her body? That's flash cotton. He's going to use the wand to set it on fire?"

"Won't she get burned?" Maggie asked as she leaned forward.

"No. That's kind of the point. Kane says as long as you make sure the flash cotton isn't bunched up anywhere, it's actually pretty safe. The sub gets all the adrenaline rush of something dangerous and painful but everyone I've ever talked to has described it as exhilarating and deeply arousing."

Maggie was fascinated. What looked like violet sparks arced from the head down to the spiderweb material and lit it on fire, making flames of yellow, orange, and red. Maggie watched with a mixture of fear, fascination, and arousal. The woman shivered in response, but not in pain or fright. No. That was the shudder of a majorly turned on woman.

Kane spread the flash cotton in interesting patterns up and down the woman's body, and Maggie noted that a kind of languid stupor seemed to settle over her. "Is she okay? She looks really out of it."

Matt chuckled. "She's in subspace. It wouldn't take much for Kane to take her to orgasm, but he won't."

"Why not?"

"See that collar?" Maggie nodded. "She's in an exclusive relationship with another Dom. She wanted to experience fire play, which her Dom isn't cleared to do, so he asked Kane if he would do it. This is right up Kane's alley. He gets to get off on the control but doesn't have to get involved enough to have sex with her or provide her with aftercare. Her partner will take her up to one of the private play spaces and take care of her."

As the demonstration ended, Maggie could see the room erupt in applause. Maggie remained silent as the woman's partner came up on stage, shook Kane's hand, and then unbuckled the woman's bindings, wrapped her in a blanket, scooped her up, and left the stage. Maggie was dumbstruck and couldn't seem to look away, her thoughts a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She had never been interested in the D/s lifestyle, but watching Kane, she couldn't help but feel a spark of curiosity—of what it might be like to surrender to that kind of power, to trust someone with that level of control.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Matt's voice broke through her thoughts.

Maggie blinked, turning back to him. "Yeah," she said slowly. "It really is."

Matt studied her for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Don't get any ideas, Mags. Kane's not the kind of guy you want to get involved with."

Maggie frowned, feeling a flare of irritation. "I wasn't planning on getting involved with anyone. I'm here to do my job, Matt. That's all."

"I'm serious," Matt insisted. "Kane's… different. He's been through a lot, and he's not exactly looking for a relationship. He doesn't get involved. Stay away from Kane and be careful in Syria."

Maggie rolled her eyes. "I can take care of myself, Matt. You don't need to worry about me. Your friend seems to have left the building, and my plane leaves before the sun comes up tomorrow."

Matt didn't look convinced. "Just promise me you'll be careful out there. Syria is no joke, and neither is Kane."

Maggie sighed, knowing he wouldn't drop it until she agreed. "Fine. I'll be careful. Happy?"

Matt nodded, though his expression remained troubled. "Yeah. I just want you to be safe."

The flight to Syria was long, but Maggie didn't mind. She spent most of the time poring over her notes, going over the details of the dig site again and again. The ruins they were excavating were ancient, predating most known civilizations in the region. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and she was determined to make the most of it.

But as the plane descended toward the small, dusty airstrip that served as the nearest airport to the dig site, a knot of anxiety tightened in her stomach. The reality of where she was going, and the dangers that came with it, were becoming all too real.

Stepping off the plane, Maggie was hit by a wave of heat and dust. The air was dry and harsh, nothing like the cooler, humid summers of Kansas. She squinted against the glare of the sun, pulling her hat down lower over her face as she made her way across the tarmac to the waiting Jeep.

The drive to the dig site was bumpy and uncomfortable, the roads little more than dirt tracks winding through the barren landscape. Maggie clung to the side of the Jeep as they bounced over rocks and ruts, her excitement tempered by a growing sense of trepidation.

When they finally arrived, Maggie's heart skipped a beat. The site was more impressive than she had imagined—an ancient city half-buried in the sand, its crumbling walls and broken pillars a testament to a time long past. She could barely contain her excitement as she climbed out of the Jeep, her eyes wide as she took in the scene before her.

"This is incredible," she murmured to herself, her fingers itching to start exploring.

"Dr. Dillon? I'm Sara Al-Rashid, your interpreter. Let's get you settled in your tent. It isn't much, but you have a private, composting toilet and a double bed. I'll make sure someone checks it before you return each night."

"Forgive my asking, but why?"

"Just to make sure nothing that can kill you has taken up residence."

Maggie smiled. "Don't add to anyone's workload. I've worked in desert digs before. I can assure you I can take care of myself, but I do appreciate your concern."

"You are not what I expected. Forgive me. You should do fine, Dr. Dillon." Sara showed her into her tent. "Welcome aboard."

"It's Maggie, and thank you, Sara."

She took a quick minute to use a little bit of water to sponge off the grime from traveling and changing into more suitable work clothes. Maggie pulled her long, blonde hair back and made a fishtail braid, flipping it over her shoulder. She exited her tent, stretched, and headed toward the dig site.

But before she could take more than a few steps, a low rumble reached her ears. She turned, shading her eyes against the sun, and saw a dust cloud on the horizon, growing larger by the second. The knot in her stomach tightened. It wasn't unusual for vehicles to pass by—locals, other researchers—but something about this felt different, more deliberate.

As the vehicles drew closer, she could make out the shapes of armored Jeeps, their tires kicking up clouds of sand as they sped toward the site. Maggie's pulse quickened. She couldn't imagine who these people might be. They certainly hadn't been part of the scenario as it had been explained to her. Who were they?

As the Jeeps skidded to a halt in a cloud of dust, the dig workers stopped working and watched them with rapt interest. Maggie instinctively took a step back as the doors opened and armed men stepped out. Her heart pounded in her chest, but as she scanned the group, one figure stood out from the rest.

Kane Chaplin.

He moved with the same predatory grace she had seen at the club, his dark, intense eyes scanning the area with military precision. He looked out of place here, among the ruins, but also somehow… right. As if he belonged in this harsh, unforgiving landscape.

Maggie's initial relief at seeing a familiar face quickly gave way to irritation. What the hell was he doing here? Damn Matt.

Kane spotted her almost immediately, his gaze locking onto hers. He strode over, his expression unreadable, and stopped a few feet away, his presence as commanding as ever.

"Dr. Dillon," he greeted her with a nod. "I'm Kane Chaplin."

"I know who you are, Mr. Chaplin."

"I'm here to ensure your safety."

Maggie bristled at his tone, at the implication that she couldn't handle herself. "I didn't ask for a bodyguard," she snapped. "I can take care of myself, thank you very much."

Kane's expression didn't change. "Your brother seems to think otherwise."

Damn Matt. Maggie clenched her fists, anger bubbling up inside her. She should have known. "Matt had no right to do this. I don't need you here."

"Whether you think you need me or not is irrelevant," Kane replied, his voice calm, almost bored.

"I want you to leave. I'm firing you."

"Unfortunately, Dr. Dillon, you aren't the client. I'm here, and I'm not leaving until I'm sure you're safe."

Maggie glared at him, but she knew it was a losing battle. Once Matt had set his mind on something, there was no changing it. And clearly, he had decided that she needed protection, whether she liked it or not.

"Fine," she muttered, turning away from him. "But keep away from me and stay out of my way."

Kane didn't respond, and she didn't look back as she marched toward the ruins, her frustration mounting with every step. This was supposed to be her dig, the first time she was in charge, her chance to prove herself in the field, and now it felt like she was being babysat.

As she reached the edge of the site, Maggie paused, taking a deep breath to calm herself. She had worked too hard to let this ruin her focus. Kane might be an unwelcome intrusion, but she wouldn't let him distract her from the work that mattered.

As she surveyed the ruins, her excitement returned, washing away some of the tension. This was what she had dreamed of—standing on the edge of history, ready to uncover its secrets. Whatever else was happening, whatever dangers might be lurking, this was where she belonged.

Still, as she began her work, Maggie couldn't help but notice the way the local workers glanced nervously at the horizon, whispering among themselves about nearby militia activity. The tension in the air was palpable, a constant reminder that she was far from the safety of home.

And despite her irritation, despite her insistence that she didn't need a bodyguard, Maggie found herself glancing back at Kane more than once, his presence a silent, reassuring shadow at the edge of her vision. He was a man accustomed to danger, a man who seemed to thrive in it.

For now, she would focus on the dig, on the history waiting to be uncovered beneath the sands. But Maggie knew that in this place, far from everything familiar, the past wasn't the only thing she needed to be wary of.

And as much as she hated to admit it, Kane Chaplin might be exactly what she needed.