Make Me, Sir

fidgeting. “I can see there are some loose tongues in this office.”

Dickhead stiffened.

Ignoring him, Kouros eyed Gabi. “What qualifications do you have for playing a decoy, Ms. Renard? I’ll admit you’re motivated-and because of that I doubt you can be objective. You’re the right age. You’re pretty enough, probably smart enough. But you’re not an agent; you’re support staff-a social worker. Why should I use you instead of an agent?”

At first she hadn’t seen any way to help. She was a counselor, not a field agent. Then she’d checked the agents they planned to use. “It doesn’t matter if I’m objective or not. I’m not going to work the case, just play decoy. Second, you only have three agents for decoys, not four. As far as I know, none have visited BDSM clubs before.”

His face hardened at the further evidence of how much information she’d obtained, and she continued hurriedly, “I have experience.” A little and long ago, but who’s counting?

He sat forward like a cat scenting a mouse. “You’re submissive?”

She nodded.

“You’re not seriously considering using her,” Rhodes burst out. “She’d blow the whole operation.”

As Kouros studied her, his gaze drifted over her face, lingered on her cheek. “How’d you get the scar?”

The ugly memory sliced her as easily as the knife had sliced her flesh. Her hands fisted. “Wrong place during a gang war.” And she’d promised herself she’d never willingly get near violence again. How plans do change.

“You’re braver than you appear.” Kouros actually smiled. “You might just do, Ms. Renard. As it happens, I need a decoy for the Shadowlands.”

Rhodes stared at him. “You think you could get that asshole owner to admit her? She’s not an agent.”

“Zachary Grayson had a good point. An inexperienced, nonsubmissive woman might manage to pass in a busy public place, but the members of his club wouldn’t be fooled.” Kouros turned to her again. “The Shadowlands is a private, very exclusive BDSM club outside Tampa. Assuming we can talk him into it, the owner will set you up as a trainee sub.”

She opened her mouth to agree, but he held up his hand.

“You’re missing one vital piece of information the victim gave us-and we confirmed. I want you to think twice before we go any further. You see, the kidnapper is targeting only blatantly rebellious submissives. Noisy ones. The buyers want the pleasure of breaking their spirits.”

“No. That can’t-” No, not Kim. Her stomach twisted.

Kouros’s face softened. “You’re not getting the point, Gabrielle. I’m talking about your involvement. The decoys will have to demonstrate disobedient, insolent behavior. If you’re familiar with the lifestyle, you know how a dom will react.”

Gabi stiffened. Doms wouldn’t tolerate rudeness. They might just stop the scene and let the sub go-or might discipline her.

“Ah. I see you know.” A corner of Kouros’s mouth rose. “Grayson says only a few Shadowlands doms like brats, so either you’d end up sitting alone with no chance to attract attention or he’d need to get you into the trainee program…which forces the trainer to deal with you, whether he wants to or not.”

She nodded. To be dealt with. Her hands had gone clammy.

“Another fact. Despite their protests, the club owners are sworn to secrecy, so aside from the owner and Rhodes, no one else there will know you’re playing a part. That includes the dom in charge of the trainees, who, according to Grayson, is a hard-ass when it comes to disrespectful submissives. Are you sure, Gabrielle?”

She clasped her hands together, hoping to hide her trembling. Knowing she’d be setting herself up as a target for a murderer had terrified her so much she’d thrown up before leaving the motel.

Now this. To beg for punishment from a dom who didn’t know she was playing a part? Oh God.

But for Kim? All through college, Kim had shaken her awake from nightmares of the past, listened to her, comforted her. Now Kim was living in a nightmare.

Gabi raised her chin. “I’m sure.”

* * *

Marcus Atherton walked into the Shadowlands entry and nodded at the domme and security guard across the small room. Down the center, his five trainee submissives knelt nicely in a line. He strolled around them, checking that clothing was neat, appropriate, and seductive. “Y’all look very nice tonight,” he said. “I’m proud of you.”

Vivacious Sally, Goth Dara, and sweet, gay Austin had been there before he’d taken over the program last spring. After he and the owner, Z, had talked at length, they’d added Uzuri, with her gorgeous, chocolate-colored skin and the soul of a prankster, and a newer bisexual, Tanner, who wanted a mistress or a couple.

“I will not be in charge of you this evening.” Z’s voice-mail message had requested that he free himself up tonight, but hadn’t said why. “So Mistress Olivia has kindly agreed to supervise y’all.”

Their unhappy expressions warmed his dom’s heart. They’d become as attached to him as he was to them. When he saw mischief rising in Sally’s eyes, he added, “You best be nice to Mistress Olivia, or next time I’ll ask Mistress Anne to watch over you.”

They actually paled.

He had a mind to tell Anne-the sadistic mistress would enjoy their response immensely. “I’ll have an eye on all of you. Don’t let me down now.”

They murmured, “No, Sir” and “We won’t, Master Marcus.” He nodded and stepped back to let Olivia take his place.

The hefty domme smiled at the trainees. “First, let me run through my rules.” She slapped a switch against her tight latex pants, and the movement drew every gaze.

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.”

Anger started a sullen glow in his gut. Z hadn’t asked a favor; he’d given an order. What kind of bullshit is this? From the set of Z’s jaw, there would be no discussion about refusing this trainee. Marcus could either take on the submissive or step aside as trainer.

But he liked supervising the trainees, helping them broaden their education as submissives, helping them find a dom to match their needs. And the volunteer position filled his need to give back to the community. He tapped his fingers on the bar and considered his options. Perhaps he should meet the new trainee before burning his bridges