Free Siren in Bloom [Texas Sirens 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by Sophie Oak Page A

she would become a drug-addicted prostitute.
    What they didn’t say was that she’d gotten herself into trouble in a town like Deer Run, so how the hell would she stay out of it in Dallas?
    She loved the city, and she’d almost never had to stand on the train. Dallas was filled with gentlemen. And almost no one knew about her past as the wife of the drug dealer and blackmailer. It had made a small splash in the press when Bryce’s blackmailing activities had come to light, but it had quickly been replaced when the next scandal came along.
    But sometimes she wondered if it would always follow her around, like a stain that wouldn’t go away no matter how much she washed it.
    She sighed and stared out the window. The train stopped at the next station, and there was a general jostling as people got on and got off. A large man stepped in and looked around for a seat. He waited as the women on the train moved into the open seats.
    She was going home to her small townhouse where she would shower and maybe have a fortifying glass of wine before fixing herself up and heading to The Club. Not on a tour. Not as a designer getting ideas about a space.
    As a sub. Wolf’s sub.
    She smiled as the door closed, and the train jolted forward. Well, she’d been worried that maybe she would never be able to look at another man, but Wolf Meyer had put that thought firmly out of her mind.
    Every hormone in her body had lit up and screamed like a teen at a pop concert. He was unbelievably masculine. Wholly beautiful. And kind.
    And Leo’s brother.
    Yeah, that was bugging her.
    “Hi.”
    She glanced up, pulled out of her thoughts by a masculine voice. She looked up and smiled back. The man was big, almost too big for the seat he was squeezed into. He sat directly in front of her, and a well-dressed woman settled into the seat next to her, a gorgeous designer bag in her lap.
    The bag caught Shelley’s eye. She loved beautiful things. It was why she’d become a designer. She couldn’t sew for crap so she’d put her eye for fashion into making living spaces lovely and comfortable, but she still loved clothes and bags and shoes. It took all she had not to drool over that bag. Quilted and black, with gold braided satchel-like handles, the bag stood out on the dreary train. It was Versace. Handmade. She’d seen it at the Versace store the week before when she’d walked through NorthPark Mall looking for a little inspiration. She’d taken pictures of the straps thinking she could use it as a takeoff place for decorating the bar that served as the entryway to The Club.
    That was one amazing-looking bag. Her own paled in comparison. And the laptop bag at the woman’s side was a work of art, too.
    “Well, I can see I have nothing on a pretty purse.” There was a wealth of masculine deprecation in the words.
    She looked up into laughing gray eyes. Damn. She’d been terribly rude. “Sorry. It’s a stunning bag.”
    “Thanks,” the woman beside her said, patting the $2500 bag. Shelley had checked the price tag and remembered that she didn’t have her husband’s blood money to rely on anymore. Not that he’d shared it. She’d been forced to work in a bar just to pay her mother’s medical bills.
    “I saw it just a couple of days ago. I couldn’t help but admire it,” Shelley said, trying not to think about a life that hadn’t been real in the first place.
    The cool blonde nodded and held the bag to her chest. “Normally I wouldn’t carry it on the train. My ride got stuck at the firm, and I had a long day in court. I wasn’t willing to wait, but now I’m wondering. I feel like I need an armed escort.”
    The handsome man in front of them saluted with a little flair. “I’ll be happy to apply for the job, ma’am. Steve Holder. Non-active duty Navy SEAL.”
    The woman next to Shelley blushed and muttered something about feeling so much safer.
    “Hi. I’m Shelley McNamara. I seem to be surrounded by ex-SEALs these days,”