Chuckling, Marcus stepped into the main club room and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting from the chandeliers and wall sconces. This early, no one played on the equipment against the walls; no murmur of conversation came from the sitting areas. The lingering scent of cleansers mingled with the fragrance of leather.

Within an hour, the Shadowlands would rumble to life. Odd how much he’d come to love this club.

He looked around and spotted Z. Dressed in his usual black silk shirt and tailored slacks, the owner of the Shadowlands sat at the circular bar in the center of the room, talking to the bartender and his submissive.

As Marcus walked over, Cullen grinned. “Hey, buddy, I met your new trainee. Great hair.” The bartender’s voice echoed in the huge, silent room.

“What new trainee?” Marcus gave Z a quizzical glance.

Z frowned. “I’d hoped you’d arrive earlier, Marcus. I certainly didn’t intend to spring this on you.”

“The trial ran late.” And had been satisfying as hell. By the time he finished his closing argument, the jury had been of one mind, and the bastard who’d preyed on young boys hadn’t had a chance. Guilty. The sense of satisfaction in knowing he’d taken one more monster off the streets made all the late nights worthwhile. “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry about the lack of discussion, but I have another trainee for you.” Z nodded toward the back. “I told her to wait for you by the chain station.”

Marcus stared at him. They always talked over any addition to the trainee program. And now a new one, just like that?

Z took a sip of his drink. “I appreciate you taking Gabrielle on, Marcus. She’s rather misbehaved, and she’s going to need a firm hand. Please keep her for a month-say the end of August-before you give up on her.”