Free Hearts Under Fire by Kelly Wyre and HJ Raine

was a small room lit with an industrial chandelier that hung over a set of stairs leading down into the earth.
    “Master Clark,” said one of the guards. Daniel was surprised to see both men wearing sunglasses at night. “Good to see you, Sir.” The guard spoke without moving anything but his mouth.
    “Gentlemen,” Clark said. “Good to see you’re blocking those dangerous moonlight rays and holding up this wall with sheer force of willpower and intimidation.”
    The other suit chuckled. “Go on in, Sir. You, too, Master Germain.”
    Nodding his thanks to the guard, Daniel forced himself forward, still in Clark’s grasp. He knew the other man meant well, just as Clark had meant well with the terse list of instructions and recommendations at lunch, but it was hard going for Daniel; he was relieved when Clark finally let go.
    “Be careful of the stairs,” Clark said. “They’re narrow, and I damn near trip over my own feet if I’m not careful.”
    Daniel nodded as anger and adrenaline rushed through him. It wasn’t fair of him to take his own emotional turmoil out on Clark. Daniel could only bring himself to say, “Thanks.”
    “It’s why I’m here,” Clark said calmly as his foot hit the last stair, and they entered a long tunnel. Clark whistled as they passed by piping and beneath overhead lighting.
    “We call this the Gauntlet,” Clark said, as they approached double doors at the far end of the passageway. “It leads from the Tomb to the club, itself.”
    “Is there another way into Break?” Daniel asked, pausing with Clark.
    “There’s a door from the personnel offices upstairs in Bliss, but that’s for the staff or for event nights when everyone’s here by invitation. And you need one of these.” Clark reached for his pocket and removed what appeared to be a set of dog tags. Inscribed on one was a bas-relief of a rose. On the other was simply “Clark” etched in black, block letters.
    “We all get specialized pass keys,” Clark explained, waving the tags in front of a sensor next to the door. It beeped, and Clark stepped into the hallway beyond, turning to look at Daniel. “You will, too, should you decide to become a member.”
    “So they’re made differently for each person, and the card is just temporary?”
    “You got it,” Clark said with a friendly smile. He gestured grandly at the hallways. “Welcome to the Catacombs. These hallways surround Break, which is through there.” Clark pointed to another pair of catty-cornered, closed double doors. Looking up, Clark gave a two-fingered salute to the security camera before looking around.
    “No subs chained to the basement walls. How disappointing,” Clark quipped, before he turned to the left. “Come on. We’ll go hit up the coat check. It’s on the other side near the Bliss entrance.”
    Daniel followed, glancing at the décor, curious as to what a BDSM club looked like. Small tables stood against the wall. Some had artwork on them, some had an ornate lamp or antique. Paintings and graphic art hung here and there as they wound their way around the Catacombs.
    After turning a corner, another large set of closed double doors loomed ahead of them. Daniel assumed that must be the doorway leading upstairs to the staff offices. As the men got closer, it was easy to hear the low thrum of music coming from Break; the doors into the club itself were on their right and open. A tall, androgynous individual, clothed from neck to toe in what looked like priests’ robes, stood speaking to one of the staff members just outside the doorway into Break. Daniel watched as Clark smiled at a man who was nude save for a black G-string, and the man flashed back a grin and a little wave. “Coat check,” Clark said to Daniel, as they turned the final corner. A counter spanned the width of the hallway, and a pretty girl with long, black curls and a stylish suit smiled at Clark and Daniel.
    “Hi, sirs,” she chirped. “I need your cell phones,