Make Me, Sir

called from the off-ramp to say she’d driven past. With the Shadowlands so far into the country, Jang had to watch from a more public location.

Number four chickie. The last one. Pretty too. He smiled. Maybe he’d delay calling for the boat so he and Jang could enjoy themselves longer.

With a sense of anticipation, he spotted her car pulling into the lot. Right on time.

Flashing lights appeared behind her, and Maganti’s jaw dropped when a cop car turned in and headed straight for the apartment building where he stood. What the fuck?

Son of a fucking bitch, had he been made? Sweat trickled down his face as he ghosted back through the breezeway to the rear of the building, and from there watched two cops jump out of the patrol car and race up the stairs. They pounded on a door.

A man shouted, “Go away.” Through the breezeway, Maganti saw lights blink on in the other buildings. Doors opened. The asshole had woken up everybody in the entire fucking apartment complex.

Maganti watched, teeth grinding together, as his target walked into the breezeway and up the steps to her apartment.

* * *

Gabi’d felt so jumpy on the drive back that she almost crashed when a cop car appeared behind her. It followed her into the parking lot, then raced past and over to her building.

It’s not here for me. Yet as she got out of the car, her skin prickled as if every little nerve ending sensed someone watching her. She knew Rhodes hung around somewhere, but somehow this felt more…ominous. Yet no one appeared. Maybe the weather’d made her jumpy. A storm system had moved in off the Gulf, and black clouds blotted out the stars. A blustery wind swayed the trees and tugged at her clothing.

She walked across the lot as the cops pounded on a door a ways down from her own apartment. Before she’d reached the building, another police car pulled up, then an ambulance. Damn.

After climbing the steps to her floor, she spotted her neighbor peeking out and asked, “What’s going on?”

The tiny white-haired woman lit up at the chance to share gossip. “Oooh, that man in 282 came home beastly drunk and beat up his girlfriend. We heard her screaming all the way down here. Clara from 280 called me, and I told her to call the police.”

Nothing to do with me. The relief made her grin. “Pretty disgusting-a man beating on a woman.” The switch marks on her bottom burned.

“I never liked the look of him anyway. I told Clara that he looked like a brute.” Drawing her cotton robe closer against a spatter of raindrops, Mrs. Peters edged out onto the walkway to watch the brute get hauled away.

Gabi glanced over the railing. Drunk and belligerent. She hesitated, wondering if she should check on the girlfriend, then saw a policewoman enter the apartment. So she patted Mrs. Peters on the fragile shoulder. “Have a nice rest of the night.”

“You too, dear.”

After a quick shower, Gabi sprawled on her bed, still too awake to call it a night. As rain hit the windows in waves, she snipped off the leg of a snagged pair of panty hose and rolled it into a mouselike cat toy. She left a realistic tail on the end and tossed it onto the carpet. Two furry bodies sprang in pursuit.

Horatio won. The brown ball in his mouth drooped in a convincingly mousy manner as he growled at Hamlet and lashed his tail.

Hamlet hesitated. He licked a rough patch of fur to show he didn’t really want the mouse ball, then jumped on the bed to cozy up to Gabi.

Lying on her side, she rubbed her nose in his soft fur. When she’d walked on the beach with Marcus, she’d asked that he find good homes for her babies…if anything happened. His expression had been frightening, and then he’d yanked her into his arms and held her. But he’d promised.

“You’ll be safe, my boys, no matter what,” she murmured. “Just one more night.”

Then what?

She scritched Hamlet under the jaw, winning a purr. Then she’d go home to Miami and forget all about the Shadowlands? Marcus?

Could she? Return home, yes. Forget? Probably not.

Until the Shadowlands and Marcus, she hadn’t realized how deep her need went for more than-what did Marcus call it?-vanilla sex. After all, in the BDSM clubs in college, she’d never really submitted.

But Marcus had shown her the fulfillment of handing over the reins and surrendering all of herself. She couldn’t give that up now, even if she had to look for it with someone else. So she’d continue to explore the scene, even when she left. Master Z could probably recommend a safe club.

Marcus wouldn’t be her dom though. Needing something to fill the black emptiness inside, she pulled the cat on top of her stomach. He blinked at her and settled back down to snooze, ears cocked forward to listen.

“You know, Hamlet, I don’t understand him.” When Marcus had taken her home with him, she’d had so much fun. Cooking, arguing, swimming. Just talking. The way he stepped in and out of dom mode had kept her half- aroused the entire time. On the beach, he’d been so sweet and playful…and she’d thought she meant something to him.

But she could tell from the way Celine acted that they had a relationship.

“You’re a guy,” she told Hamlet. “So tell me, how could he make love to me if he and Celine are an item?”

His eyes opened a slit as if to remind her that men were bastards.

Last night Marcus had handed her over to another dom to scene with. Not the behavior of someone who gave a damn, right? And she’d seen how well Celine suited him. So damned perfect. “They look good together, Hamlet.” Gabi sighed. “I guess I really don’t know him all that well.”

Only she did. With her disobedient, insolent behavior, she’d made him furious, and he still controlled his temper. And me. The thoughtful, generous way he made love told her a lot. So did how he argued-fairly, acknowledging when she brought up a good point-and how he listened.

She gave him the same things back. And I make him laugh. Can oh-so-sweet Celine do that?

Dammit. Tomorrow would be her last night. She’d watch, maybe ask him…somehow…if he thought…wanted… She groaned. Right. That’ll go over well; ask him a question you can’t even manage to articulate.

Chapter Eighteen

Sitting quietly-and nakedly-in a roped-off scene area, Gabi waited for Marcus to return. The plastic drape covering the waist-high bondage table crackled under her butt. Around her, the Shadowlands warbled and soared with its own unique music: the Goth music of Cruxshadows pounding, impact toys cracking on bare flesh, a caged submissive crying in a high voice, a sub in a flogging scene moaning.

The fragrance of leather mingled with sex and sweat and perfume. She held her arm to her face and inhaled the lingering scent from where Marcus had gripped her wrist.

This was her last night here, Gabi thought. It was almost over, and no one had made an effort to lure her out of the building. Would the perp try for her later, after she left? Or maybe he hadn’t taken the bait. Had he targeted someone else?

What if nothing happened now? She felt like dancing in relief…and crying. What about the women he’d kidnapped? What about Kim? Her hands fisted; then she forced her fingers to open. You can only do what you can do.

Tonight, she’d act like a brat; this was her part to do. And she’d enjoy it as much as possible. Because, as Kim and the other women had found, sometimes things go bad. If the kidnapper did manage to get Gabi, at least she’d have lived.

And loved? She shook her head. Live for today. Tomorrow can wait.

A scream of release turned her attention to the flogging scene where the submissive writhed against the St.