They took off in opposite directions. As Blaze neared his destination the voice and the choked cries of distress became clear.
“You’re gonna pay for givin’ it to a master who ain’t me, you little whore!” Vincent, the asshole. Mean as a barracuda, dumb as a fence post.
Unfortunately, he was strong as a bull, and in a rage. Blaze rounded the corner to see Shawn pushed face- first into the wall by the restroom, pants around his ankles, the bastard’s thick cock poised at his entrance and big, meaty hands wrapped around his throat. The sub wasn’t making a sound any longer; the other man’s grip had completely cut off his air.
Shawn sagged, knees buckling, just as Blaze dove, tackling Vincent from the side and taking him to the floor. Caught by surprise, the man was slow to react and rolled to his back, his brain trying to catch up with the new turn of events. In that split second, Blaze saw the sweet boy lying on the floor, unmoving, and he unloaded his fists with a vengeance.
“You worthless fuck,” he sneered, knuckles connecting with Vincent’s jaw. “Scumbag. You like beating on boys? Try a man your own size.”
He pummeled the man with ruthless precision, easily deflecting the few blows the worm managed to get in. Vaguely, he became aware of pounding footsteps and shouts.
“Blaze, that’s enough! He’s down!”
Hands grabbed him, pulled him off the fallen man. He pushed to his feet to see Emma standing beside one bouncer, Thorn, who was crouched over Shawn. The other bouncer, Tiny, laid a hand on his arm.
“What happened, man?”
“Vincent had Shawn against the wall and was choking him, about to rape him.”
“He’s lying,” the asshole hissed through his split lip. “The little whore is mine.”
“Shut up,” Tiny said, delivering a kick to Vincent’s side. “Tell it to the cops.”
“Jesus Christ, I don’t think he’s breathing,” Thorn said, voice rising in panic. “Adam!”
“What the hell is going on?” Adam Langley, manager and head D/s master, jogged toward them, long black coat swirling around him.
“Master Vincent was choking Shawn, wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Blaze informed him, heart lurching.
Adam dropped to his knees beside Shawn and gathered the sub into his arms, black hair falling over big violet eyes filled with worry as he smoothed a fiery lock out of the sub’s face. “Shawn? Can you hear me?” Gently, he kissed the boy’s lips. “Breathe, baby. Come on, please.”
Shuddering, Shawn heaved a deep breath and coughed. A collective sigh of relief went up, and Blaze tucked Emma into his side. “Thank God.”
“I was so scared,” she whispered.
So, apparently, was Adam, who clutched the sub against his chest and murmured into his hair. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” he croaked, then coughed again.
“How long has this harassment been going on?” Adam demanded.
Shawn answered in a small voice. “A few weeks.”
“What? Why didn’t you tell me?” When the sub cringed, Adam relented, but glared at the group in general. “Well, it damned well won’t happen again! That fucker is not to set foot in my club,” he said to Tiny. “Make sure everyone knows. And call the police.”
“Done.”
Adam gazed at the sub, his expression softening. “Seems you need a keeper, boy. And I’m just the right master for the job.”
“I–I didn’t think you wanted me.”
“You were wrong… and so was I.”
“Yes, sir.” The adoration on Shawn’s face said it all.
Well, damn. You had to love a happy ending.
Now, if Blaze could just save the world from annihilation and walk away with the girl? He’d get his rock-star cousin to write a frickin’ song about it.
Ten
Robert Dietz sat at the head of the table in the shitty little rat hole of an abandoned house and glared at his men. His top commanders, who’d failed to ensure that his headquarters was safe. Now he was stuck in this hellhole until another, better place could be secured, an almost impossible task when facing a ton of heat.
Yes, Ross would pay dearly for this — and much sooner than he believed. Even now, death was staring his nemesis in the face, waiting to collect another soul. He’d thought about ordering his man to take care of the AWOL Agent Foster as well, but decided she wasn’t worth it. The woman was of no importance, and her death would signify nothing.
Unlike Ross’s.
Oh, how he wished he could be there to witness the man’s demise in person, but that would be a stupid risk. He took only calculated ones.
Right now the most calculated risk of all was when and how to transfer the weapon to their foreign contacts, therefore making him an extremely rich man. The dictator overseas was getting restless and pissed, and they couldn’t afford to wait much longer. But neither could they make any mistakes.
Drawing himself up, he treated each man to a deadly stare before beginning. “Gentlemen, the clusterfuck at the estate was completely unforgivable. First, you allow a federal agent to hide among our ranks, and then you practically hand him our asses on a silver platter with apples in our mouths.”
Each man squirmed, no doubt sweating over who would take the fall. Allowing a small, humorless smile, he went on.
“Every one of you is to blame, yet none of you are willing to accept the responsibility. That, my friends, is plain bad business. Therefore, I believe it’s time for a demonstration — something simple to remind each of us the importance of paying attention.”
With that, he stood. Removed a pistol and a long silencer from inside his coat. He screwed on the silencer and calmly walked around the table, making certain his steps were slow and measured, like heartbeats echoing in their ears.
“Musical chairs, the Russian Roulette Edition,” he said. “Who wants to play?”
No one moved. Or breathed.
Finally, he stopped beside the chair of one of his men, a large man named Garr. Placing the muzzle to the man’s temple, he let the seconds lapse into minutes as Garr panted, sweat rolling down his fleshy face, too mired in terror to breathe.
Then he pulled the trigger — which snapped with a hollow click.
“Oh, my. No bullets. Well, waste not.” He met each pair of rounded, horrified eyes. “Now do I have your attention?”
Murmurs and nods in the affirmative met his question. As did the stench of Garr’s bowels.
Lesson learned.
Unfortunately for Ross, the next round would be loaded.
* * *
“Damn, I’m tired and hungry,” Michael Ross complained. “Can we discuss the rest of the details over dinner?”
