Markus grunted in pain as he tried to tease her back. "That's Master to you, young lady."
"Yes, Master."
Lukus asked for a report from the medics. "So, what's the damage?"
The tallest of the medics answered, "His vital signs are stable, and the bleeding has slowed. We're taking him to Methodist Memorial."
Brianna leaned over her husband to hug him; gently so as to not hurt him more. Silent sobs shook her shoulders.
"It's okay, sweetheart. Everything is going to be okay," Markus said. Then he looked up at Lukus. The men exchanged knowing glances.
Markus probed, "It's over?"
Lukus smiled. "Yeah. It's over. Davenport is dead. He'll never hurt anyone else again."
Markus sighed with relief. "You do the honors?"
"Nope. The CPD took care of it."
As if they'd timed it, Aiden and Josh pressed into the room, seeking them out. It only took them a few seconds to come up and stand beside Markus. An awkward silence descended on them until Aiden joked, "Lying down on the job again, I see. You'll do anything to get out of Tiffany beating your ass at basketball, won't you?"
Markus smiled weakly. "I hear you got in a bit of target practice. Well done."
Lukus knew how lucky they were that they could be cracking jokes. If he'd timed his arrival from the airport just a few minutes later, they could be having a very different conversation.
We're pretty damn lucky.
Dylan
Dylan Parker sat silently in the comfortable chair he'd occupied for the last several long hours. Slowly, the crowd in the loft was beginning to thin out.
Now that the imminent danger of Jake Davenport had been extinguished, Dylan found himself strangely paralyzed. He'd been focused for so long on bringing the bastard down that he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now. As horrific as the sights he'd seen during the investigation had been, they'd done one thing; distracted him from thinking about the horrors of watching his best friend blown up by an IED in Afghanistan.
Guilt invaded him as he realized it had been days since he'd even thought of Danny. He should be relieved at not remembering the fear in his best friend's eyes as he'd died in his arms. The memories had haunted him for months.
Dylan hated to admit it now, but his brother Derek had been right to push him to get off his ass and go to work for Titan Securities. His only regret was that he hadn't been the one to put the bullet in Davenport.
The last few police lingered in the kitchen, taking statements and confirming facts with Lukus and Derek. A pang of surprised jealousy struck Dylan as he watched Derek answering questions with a sleeping Rachel cradled in his arms like a child. Dylan smiled as he watched the older uniformed cop keep glancing down at Rachel, intrigued by the pacifier she was sucking subconsciously in her slumber. Her diaper was visible under her skimpy pajamas.
Dylan finally got it.
Derek and Rachel had done a pretty good job of hiding the uniqueness of their relationship from their families, yet Dylan had always known there was something different about their marriage. He hadn't gotten the behind the curtain view into their dynamic until he'd started working for Titan Securities. In the early days of the investigation, he'd had trouble separating what was happening inside the horror house that was Strictly Disciplined from what went on inside his brother's marriage, since both were filled with spankings and punishments.
One look at the love in Derek's eyes as he kept checking on his wife was all it took to understand the difference. Everything Derek, Lukus, and Markus did with their women was done in love. Never to degrade. Never to do damage. Dylan may not understand the psychology behind it yet, but anyone with eyes could see that Rachel, Tiffany, and Brianna were getting exactly what they needed from the men in their lives.
He let his gaze drift back to the sleeping form of Hannah curled up at the end of the leather couch, a dozing Connor in her arms.
I wonder what Hannah needs to make her happy?
It wasn't the first time he'd pondered this question. He'd become obsessed with her in the previous weeks. Of that he was sure. What was less clear was: why? And, more accurately, for how long? Keeping her safe had given him purpose. Was that all there was to it?
The answer came to him when a loud-mouthed cop stomped over to Hannah and jostled her, rudely waking her. Dylan was on his feet in a flash, rushing to her side. He'd known she'd wake in a panic. He saw the fear in her eyes as she glanced around, trying to get her bearings.
The cop was barking orders. "You need to wake up, Miss Martine. We have more questions for you regarding your relationship with Jake Davenport."
Dylan stepped in between them, protecting Hannah and Connor. "Back off. She wasn't in a relationship with the bastard. She was his victim, and she can answer more questions tomorrow. She's exhausted."
Her voice rose, quiet behind him. "Dylan, thanks, but it's okay. I'd rather just get this over with so we can put it all behind us."
He turned to look down at her. She was so pale. She needed sleep. If she were his, he'd order her to the bedroom. A pang of something he wasn't sure of constricted his heart.
She wasn't his, was she?
They barely knew each other, really, and the dangerous predator that had brought them together was dead now. She didn't need him anymore.
He stepped back, preparing to return to his chair; to return to his role as outside observer. The touch of her hand on his stopped him. She silently held him back.
He returned his gaze to hers. So many emotions danced in her eyes. Fear. Exhaustion. Determination. Shyness. She seemed lost, as if she would drown if one more weight were placed on her slim shoulders. A fierce urge to protect her surged up in his
