Wounded Heart

By Kay Doherty

Picking up the pieces and starting over is never easy, especially when the one who created the hell you were strong enough to survive finds his way back into your life.
Warren Shay has finally gotten his life back on track. He’s dancing professionally again, he has his own place, and volunteers for a sweet old lady who reminds him of his grandmother. He hadn’t realized he was missing anything until he shows up. Muscular, tattooed, and intimidating, Tag Daniels is the security specialist Warren didn’t know he wanted. It doesn’t take long before the dominant man has Warren on his knees.
Tag Daniels lives a simple life. He spends his days working as head of security at Ford Development and his nights at home alone. On the occasions he wants to exert his dominant nature, he finds a random hookup. No names. No strings attached. That all changed the moment he saw Warren Shay and was swept away by his youth, beauty, and submissive nature. When Warren’s abusive ex-boyfriend shows up again, Tag resolves to be everything Warren needs; master, lover, and protector. Even if it means breaking the law.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kay Doherty
• Release date: Jan 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9781954265004

Book preview

Chapter One

Tag stared out the window at the skyscrapers of downtown as the SUV limo sped down the narrow streets. The Tuesday-morning traffic slowed them down at every intersection, but was otherwise light. The shift from rich to poor was stark and immediate as skyscrapers gave way to hundred-year-old houses, rundown brick apartment buildings, and pothole-riddled roads. While they weren’t pretty to look at, these were the areas Tag’s boss, Blake Ford, did his best work.

These were the areas that were bought, sold, and gentrified as the previous residents were pushed farther from the city center to make room for the influx of the filthy rich. Affordable housing was desperately needed, but that wasn’t Blake’s business model. Ford Development did the minimum required by law; nothing more.

As their destination drew nearer, Tag straightened in his seat. Every time he and Blake visited the tiny mom-and-pop shop, he felt like a teenager about to see his high school crush - ridiculous and stupidly giddy. He had to forcefully pull his mind back to the task at hand as Eric parked the limo in front of the rundown bridal shop. Tag snapped open his gun holster for easier access, more than willing to use it should the need arise.

While he doubted little Bessie McRell was a threat, given the nature of Blake’s business dealings, Tag was here to protect his boss from bodily harm, not fantasize about the adorable young man she had working the register. He still hoped the kid was inside working, though. He’d been fighting contradictory desires for the past month, both enjoying and hating the trips to McRell’s Bridal, because seeing the pretty boy made Tag long for things he couldn’t have and shouldn’t want from someone so young and unblemished.

Opening the front passenger door and then easing his finely-honed bulk from the vehicle, Tag moved to the back of the limo, scanning the immediate area for threats as he went. Only when nothing struck him as out of place or suspicious, did he open the limo door for his boss.

Blake Ford was the well-known owner of Ford Development. He’d inherited the business from his grandfather and turned the company’s modest profit into millions. Tag had the honor of being head of Ford Development’s security team, and one of Blake’s closest friends. Sometimes the way Blake went about executing business would earn him an enemy or two, giving Tag an excuse to release all manner of unpleasantness onto the unsuspecting world.

Blake stepped out onto the curb, straightening his suit and tie as Tag closed the car door. I hate doing this. I respect this old lady. Reminds me of Grams.

Understood, but we have another site to visit this morning, so—

I know, Blake said, waving off Tag’s reminder. Let’s do this thing. Really shouldn’t take that long.

This stop was the first item on their agenda for today, followed by a lunch meeting to discuss the budget for the hotel that would be built where McRell’s Bridal currently stood. It was a meeting Tag suspected would keep Blake occupied for the majority of the day and himself fighting boredom. Making house calls like this was unusual, but Mrs. McRell was a special case. Blake had a soft spot for the woman.

Bessie McRell was a spry 84-year-old who had owned the shop since her early 30s. Blake had recently purchased the entire city block McRell’s was located on with plans to demolish the current buildings in order to build a hotel, complete with restaurants, retail shops, and underground parking. It was a massive undertaking, but the project couldn’t begin until all the buildings were vacated. Mrs. McRell was turning out to be a bull-headed old lady. Her stubborn, in-your-face attitude had instantly endeared her to both Blake and Tag, but was creating quite the road block to Blake’s plans.

The bell above the door rang out a musical tone as Tag followed Blake into the shop. He immediately began casing the main floor of the store, assessing every person and object, noting their placement. Bridal gowns of all designs and colors filled two-thirds of the interior. The remaining third was stocked with high-end suits and tuxedos. A long glass case along the back wall held shoes, veils, and a myriad of other accessories.

In the back center, standing on a raised dais in front of a trifold mirror, was a young, blond woman wearing an old-fashioned bridal gown. Kneeling on the floor at her feet was a slightly older woman with greying hair, busy making adjustments and taking notes. The bride-to-be positively glowed with joy, bouncing on her bare feet with unrestrained joy. Tag would never understand why any woman would be excited to spend thousands of dollars on clothing she could only wear once. At least a tuxedo had other uses, but bridal gowns were one and done.

Like a ghost emerging from the mist of white tulle and lace, the young man Tag had been eager to see approached them wearing gray skin-tight jeans, a pink button-down shirt, and a gray fedora adorned with a small pink feather. He was a handsome boy with stunning green eyes and Tag’s breath caught in his chest every time he saw him.

Tag hadn’t had a reason to talk to the kid yet, didn’t even know his name, but every time the bridal shop was listed on the itinerary, he became excited only to be disappointed when the kid didn’t spare him a second glance. Then his intelligence would kick in and remind him that he wasn’t interested in starting anything, anyway.

Two hunky men get out of a limo and walk into a bridal shop…sounds like a bad joke. I know you must be lost, the young man said.

Damn. There was the disappointment. The kid must not have even looked once if he didn’t recognize Tag and Blake from their previous visits. The young man stopped a few feet in front of Blake, gave a sexy little smile, and put a hand on his hip. The effeminate way he spoke and moved left no doubt in Tag’s mind he was gay, which only made him more fascinating. Tag gave the kid’s slim form another lingering look and wondered what the boy’s life was like, being so beautiful and obvious.

Or…are you getting married? The young man’s flirtatious grin became a full-on smile as he spoke, an amazingly glorious change that made Tag’s chest ache. Such beauty should be illegal.

No, no. Blake shook his head, laughing softly. I’m here to meet with Mrs. McRell.

The kid brought his hand to his mouth and yelled over his shoulder. Bessie, you have visitors.

A moment later, Bessie stuck her head out of the office door at the back of the shop. When she saw Blake, she waved him over with a smile. Both the bride-to-be and the seamstress watched Blake as he passed by, and then bent their heads together, giggling like school girls. Tag agreed his boss was a handsome man.

Blake was six-foot-one with a lean, muscular physique, and blue eyes that were to die for; or so Tag had overheard many a lady claim. Tag, on the other hand, was a hulking six-foot-four mass of tattooed muscle. His dark brown eyes had been described as evil, menacing, and intimidating, but never to die for, unless it was meant literally.

His job required him to be menacing and intimidating, and he needed to employ those skills now. He’d wanted to see the damn boy, even took pleasure from being in close proximity to him, but Tag couldn’t have the kid tempting him like this, unintentional as it seemed. The young man had no way of knowing how intoxicating Tag found him to be or the starring role he played in Tag’s fantasies.

Tag crossed his arms over his chest and stared because the kid had yet to walk away. Instead, his sparkling green gaze slid lazily over Tag’s body, taking in every detail. It was like the kid was committing Tag’s body to memory the same way Tag had taken in the room. Tag was delighted to finally have the attention, but nipping at the back of his mind was reality, telling him he’d break the boy and inevitably leave him with scars that would never heal. The war between desire and responsibility was nonstop, and every day his desire grew stronger, dangerously close to winning.

See something you like? Tag asked.

The boy’s eyes snapped up to Tag’s face, wide with surprise at being caught staring. He glanced away, but within seconds was back to perusing Tag’s body.

Don’t you know it, he muttered softly.

Tag suppressed the satisfied smile that tugged at his lips. The kid probably hadn’t meant for Tag to hear his answer, but he had, inflating both his ego and his dick. Most men found Tag intimidating and scary, not attractive. Those few who did find him attractive tended to be hardened and unforgiving like him. He didn’t typically appeal to young cuties unless they were masochistic. Tag kept his surprise and fascination hidden beneath an indifferent façade, shoving the pleasure deep down yet luxuriating in the knowledge the attraction was mutual. Not that he would admit it or act on it.

He liked looking at the boy, enjoyed fantasizing about him on his knees, porcelain skin reddened by his attention, but he wouldn’t encourage or engage, no matter how much he wanted to. If anything, he needed to extinguish any hope the boy might carry. Tag was already far too tempted by the beauty, so he deployed his most effective defense mechanism — asshole aggression.

Don’t you have work to do, Tinker Bell? Tag asked.

He’d been calling the boy Tinker Bell in his head since he first saw him. Young, sweet, innocent beauty wrapped up in a lithe frame, the boy personified pixie perfection. The nickname wasn’t meant as an insult, but the kid didn’t know that, and Tag knew how it would be taken by anyone not privy to his innermost thoughts.

Tinker Bell? The kid glanced up at the sound of Tag’s deep, rumbling voice.

You’re a pretty little fairy.

Tag witnessed the exact moment the barb hit the target; the sparkle in those gorgeous green eyes dimmed. It pained him more than he expected to have caused the reaction. Regret was an unfamiliar emotion for him. While Tag mourned losing the warmth of the kid’s gaze, he couldn’t afford the distraction, and the boy deserved better than a sadistic bastard like him. Emotions swept through the boy’s eyes so quickly Tag couldn’t keep up, but then his entire demeanor changed. He squared his shoulders and shrugged.

Yeah, guess I do have work.

He turned away and walked behind the counter where the register was located, expression completely neutral. Clearly, this young man had experience hiding his emotions. It had taken years of violence and betrayal for Tag to perfect the level of indifference this boy was exhibiting. Thinking of all the ways his Tinker Bell could have learned such skills made him nauseous so he forced himself to think about work.

Tag kept a constant eye out for trouble on the street through the wall of windows while still keeping the boy within sight. No matter how hard he tried, his thoughts inevitably wandered back to his little store clerk. Tinker Bell was quite a bit younger than Tag, clean shaven, and quite meticulous with his appearance. Tag was particularly taken with his green eyes.

The kid’s effeminate nature and youth was a major stumbling block. Tag generally dated men his own age who were still in the closet, or at the very least not obvious in their sexuality because he knew how strongly he was drawn to the Tinker Bells of the world. He knew how easy it would be for him to break them and the universe needed the Tinker Bells to balance out the vicious poison of men like him. No one had ever looked at Tag and thought he was gay.

As a result, Tag was the one to make the moves, so he was flattered that his Tinker Bell had been so open about his attraction. Feeling Tag’s gaze on him, he fidgeted nervously.

You’re making me uncomfortable, he said, keeping his eyes down on the paperwork he was pretending to fill out. Tag had been watching. He’d not filled in a single blank since taking refuge behind the worn wooden counter.

How old are you? Tag asked, surprised to hear the words coming from his mouth. He hadn’t meant to ask. The kid put his pen down and shook his head, still refusing to look at Tag and remaining stubbornly silent.

Warren, can you get me the financial statements for the past two years, dear? Bessie’s chipper voice cut through the tension as she and Blake approached the register.

Tinker Bell straightened and turned to the filing cabinet behind him. He handed Bessie two folders then leaned a hip against the counter. He risked a quick glance at Tag then started twirling the pen in his hand. This was a reaction Tag was used to; he made people nervous. Usually, he didn’t mind. Tinker Bell, a.k.a. Warren, he now knew, was a cutie Tag liked to believe was too young and innocent for his tastes.

Warren was already nervous and Tag hadn’t done more than watch him, albeit intently. The Tinker-Bell comment had done a fantastic job of putting the kid off. Oddly enough, that gave Tag hope that whatever pain Warren had suffered in the past hadn’t completely ruined him. The kid was very good at hiding his feelings, but he still had them.

Bessie handed the folders over to Blake with a stern, Don’t you go losing these. Blake promised to treat them with care and moved to the front door. Tag exited ahead of him with practiced ease, holding the door open for his boss and watching their surroundings. He continued to scan the street as he opened the limo door. Blake slid into the back seat and Tag closed the door.

Snapping his holster closed, Tag got into the front passenger seat. He glanced back at the shop windows as Eric eased the vehicle away from the curb. Tag couldn’t see him, but he knew Warren had watched him leave. He’d felt the weight of Warren’s gaze on his back. The opaque glass divider behind him slid down, pulling Tag’s attention to his boss who was seated directly behind Eric.

What’s your take on all this? Blake asked. I assume you’ve formed some opinion.

The outside of the place is tragically rundown, but the interior is nice, probably due to the employees more than her own hand. She only had the one customer. There was no foot traffic outside whatsoever, though there were plenty of vehicles driving by. Problem is there’s no real parking. Eric was in a tow-away zone the entire time we were inside. I think Mrs. McRell is holding on out of pure sentimentality. It’s hard to give up fifty years of your life.

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