Make Me, Sir

“You doing it on purpose?”

The straightforward question coming from another sub left Gabi at a loss. The doms were the enemy, so to speak, but other submissives belonged on her team, and the habit of confiding in friends almost overcame her brains. “In a-” She shook her head, trying to get back on balance. “Maybe. Kind of.”

Andrea snorted. “There’s an answer. How come?”

“It always seems like a good idea at the time.” Gabi shifted uneasily. “Is Master Raoul ignoring us?”

“Nah. He just likes to talk to the newer doms and subs.” Andrea drew her finger through a wet spot on the bar. “So what did you do on the streets?”

Very blunt person, wasn’t she? Gabi grinned, realizing she could like her a lot. “I broke into houses, shoplifted, picked pockets.” Andrea’s dress had a pocket on one side. Leaning forward, Gabi reached for a stack of napkins farther down the bar, bumped into her…and lifted her car keys.

“Here,” Andrea said, pushing the pile of napkins closer.

“Here,” Gabi mimicked, setting Andrea’s key chain on top of the napkins.

Andrea broke into laughter. “You’re good! My cousins tried to learn, but they’re too ham-handed.” She caught Gabi’s frown and added, “They’re all reformed and respectable now.”

“Oh. I’m glad.”

“No kidding. All our indiscretions happened in the past, but it was still awkward, since Cullen’s a fire inspector and Dan’s a cop.”

Dan, the hard-faced one. “He’s a cop? That figures.” Gabi massaged her arm, remembering the way he’d dragged her across the room to Marcus.

“Oh, I know that grip. He’s a cop to the bones. Kari-the pregnant one-is a schoolteacher, and everyone says Dan’s mellowed a lot since meeting her.”

“Uh-huh, I can tell he’s a real pushover now.” Gabi leaned an elbow on the bar. Raoul hadn’t budged, so she could indulge her curiosity about the other Masters. “Who’s the dark-haired Master, the one with black eyes who looks so mean?”

“Master Nolan. Building contractor. And his sub, Beth, owns a landscaping business-she redesigned the gardens here.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

“Huh?”

“I mean I’m glad Nolan and Dan are taken. Scary dudes. I wouldn’t want to do a scene with one of them. Of course, when Marcus gets angry…” That’s even worse. Gabi mocked a shiver, ignoring the dull ache in her belly from making him unhappy again.

“You’re scared, and you still sass them?” Andrea frowned. “That’s not very smart.”

Gabi shrugged. “My father insists my shoe size is bigger than my IQ.”

As Andrea sputtered with laughter, Master Raoul walked over to get their drink orders. Finally.

* * *

Late Saturday night, Jessica sat upstairs in Z’s private third-story rooms and fumed. She hadn’t gone to the Shadowlands yesterday because of a late client appointment-estimated tax payments could screw up the best schedules-and had looked forward to tonight. But Z had said he didn’t want her in the club. And the jerk wouldn’t tell her why, just claimed he had internal club problems.

Sure he did. She paced across the living room. Galahad watched, the end of his tail flicking as he contemplated chasing her feet. At least he wanted to chase her.

In the quiet room, she could hear the sounds of the Shadowlands, the low pulse of the music, mostly the bass. Occasionally a high cry. Very little, really. Z had said he’d put in an excessive amount of soundproofing when he set up the club.

What would he do if she went down there? Jessica tried to rub the chill from her arms. He’d left no room for misunderstanding. Stay out of the club tonight and next weekend too. He’d smiled and said that was all he’d ask, just tonight and next weekend.

Her mouth thinned. When she’d worked on the Shadowlands accounts, she’d noticed the new trainee’s membership lasted only a month-after next weekend, Gabrielle would be gone.

Well, maybe I’ll be gone too.

The thought pierced her heart like a sharp blade. She shook her head. Z’s withdrawal had something to do with that…that person. What if he wanted to play with her without Jessica around to get her feelings hurt?

She stared at the wall. In the beginning, Z had let Cullen join a scene and touch Jessica. Did Z figure she should share him with others?

Anger sliced into her brain so sharply it took her breath away. I won’t, damn him. Her hands fisted, and if he’d been present, she’d have hit him. Man, I need to get out of here before I make a scene like a child.

She trotted down the inside stairs and stopped in the ground-floor hallway. No car. Z’d picked her up, saying she could join the guys’ poker game after closing. She was stuck here until Z left the club. Dammit.

At the bottom of the stairs in the empty hall, she paced up and down, and if she kicked the wall a few times, well, tough.

An unknowable amount of time later, she heard the sound of a key, and Z stepped through from the club. God, he looked tired. Under the unforgiving hall light, harsh lines bracketed his mouth; another line carved between his eyebrows. How could he make her heart leap, make her worry about him, and make her hate him all at the same time?

He saw her and inclined his head. “Jessica. Is there a problem?”

“No.” Yes. She stomped on the urge-the need-to hold him, to let him comfort her and to give him comfort in return. He looked like he badly needed a hug.

No. He could just take himself off and get soothed by someone else.

Maybe he’d gotten tired of having a short, fat sub. “I need a ride back to my place. Can you ask one of the guys to give me a lift?”

“Hadn’t we planned you would spend the night?”

“I changed my mind.” She sounded like a kid having a temper tantrum and couldn’t summon up the energy to care. He’d left her alone all evening. He didn’t want her there. His sons hated her and thought her too young for him-and maybe she was. “Either find someone to take me home or do it yourself.”

He studied her face for a long moment and then sighed. “All right, kitten. Perhaps that would prove best for tonight.” He held out his hand. “I’ll drive you home.”

She didn’t take his hand. Everything inside her hurt. She’d expected him to argue, to push her into talking about her fears, to…to show it mattered to him whether she stayed or left. “Thank you.” She turned and headed toward the door to the garage. They’d have a long, long, silent drive home.

Right now her only goal was to make it there without crying.

* * *

In the parking area near the Clearwater Downtown Docks, Cesar Maganti drank his coffee and watched the boat lights bob up and down in the darkness. The wharf never stayed totally quiet, even this late, but no one paid any attention to his big appliance truck.

Muffled screams of pain came from the back of the truck as Jang toyed with the female they’d taken earlier. She’d barely awakened from the sedative before Jang had started. He was a brutal bastard but reliable, and discreet help was difficult to find. The Overseer didn’t care if the girls were roughed up some as long as they’d heal up in two to three weeks’ time. That left a lot of leeway for someone like Jang.

The girl started to cry, and Maganti heard the wet sounds of sex.

On the seat beside him, his phone vibrated. Maganti checked the number. The Overseer. “Yes?” No identification, no trace. Both of them used disposable cell phones that would get tossed after the last pickup.