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Seth, Jake and Deklan had established high standards when they’d opened the club, which kept disturbances to a minimum. That, coupled with the member screening and the presence of Dungeon Masters and overseers in the voyeur rooms, helped to make The Den the best and safest BDSM club in the area.
    A club he was now a part owner of. No doubt the first sergeant would be proud of that if he knew. As long as Rock was screwing women, that is. Shit . He rubbed his fingers over his eyes, trying to dispel the thought. Why did he still let his father get to him? Some things were just harder to bury than others.
    That was glaringly obvious after the fuck-awful mess he’d made of his “date” three weeks ago. His fingers brushed over the scar next to his eye and he jerked his hand away as if he’d been burned. He cut off the curse before it could leave his lips. It was done. Over. Best forgotten.
    The door to the security room swung open, bringing the dull thump of the dance music with it. Rock swung his head around and cleared his face of emotion.
    “Hey, Rock,” Deklan said as he closed the door. “Everything good?”
    Rock nodded as he paused his music and pulled his earbuds out.
    “Good.” Deklan slapped a stack of files down on the long table that served as Rock’s desk. “Here’s the latest batch of member applications. Seth has tagged, prioritized and flagged them like usual.”
    Running background checks on potential members was part of his job. “When do you need them?”
    Deklan shrug. “Next week?”
    “Can do.” Rock rolled his chair over to one of his five computers and typed in his password. Maybe this would keep his mind off his personal problems. “Anything special?”
    “Just the usual.” Deklan stepped around Rock’s chair to scrutinize the security screens. He was dressed for a night on the club floor in his standard Dom gear that was always some combination of black on black. Tonight’s choice was leather pants, T-shirt and heavy combat boots. Deklan never did the studs or harness stuff that so many Doms liked to wear.
    It was Saturday night and the club was busy. A good-sized crowd lingered on the dance floor and bar area in the main room. Most of the private rooms were occupied or reserved and the majority of the Dungeon equipment was in use.
    “Wes will be up in thirty to watch the screens,” Deklan said, his focus still on the action happening on the monitors. “Ryan’s covering the parking lot, Tom’s at the door, Kevin has the third floor and Dungeon and the twins are on the main floor.”
    Rock knew all of that, but he didn’t say anything. All of the men who worked security had served in the army under Deklan at some point and they were all at The Den because Deklan had more than proven his abilities as both a leader and fighter. Loyalty grown in combat and duress was almost unbreakable.
    Deklan turned around and stared down Rock, but he stayed silent. Rock crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. There was no way he was digging for whatever was bugging him.
    Deklan shook his head and stalked toward the door. The music swelled then cut off with the hard slam that followed him out.
    Whatever . Rock glanced at the time, a silent groan ringing in his head. The night was only half-done. He was just turning back to the screens when the door swung open again. What the hell? He worked in a room by himself for a reason.
    “Hey, man.” The low roll of Tyler’s voice was filled with the upbeat energy that had emerged in the months since he’d started working at The Den. But that was most likely due to his happy little threesome with Seth and Allie. “How’s it going?”
    Rock looked back to the screens. “Fine.”
    “Cool.” Tyler plopped himself down on a free space among the computers that lined the counter behind Rock. The ledge groaned under his weight, and Rock shot his friend a glare. He wasn’t worried about it breaking. It was just the point.
    “Chairs were made for