Cherise Sinclair - If only

With a groan, Jessica slid down into the chair Rainie had vacated. “How does he always know if I sneak down here? Who ratted us out? It wasn’t Cullen this time—he didn’t notice anyone but Sally.”

Feeling remorseful, Sally glanced around the room. Maybe she could sic the trainees on the informant. Around the bar, mostly newer Doms and Dommes had congregated. A few submissives were chatting with Andrea. Behind the bar was…the new Master. Jake.

His gaze went past Sally, undoubtedly to Master Z, and he touched his fingers to his forehead in a make-believe salute.

“It was Jake,” Sally told the others.

“That jerk.” Jessica fumed. “I don’t believe it. He’s even coming to dinner tomorrow. I swear, I’m going to serve him a chocolate cake with a chocolate-flavored laxative for the filling.”

Kari choked on her drink. “You wouldn’t.”

“Well no.” Jessica glared at Jake, and his smile widened. She glanced in the other direction and shrank down in her chair.

Gabi picked up her glass. “They’re coming this way, aren’t they?” she asked Jessica.

“Oh yeah.”

Gabi chugged the rest of her drink.

“Maybe I don’t want the munch-ass Feds back,” Sally said. “Not if they’d go all Dom on my ass just for coming here.”

“It’s worth it, sweetie.” Gabi turned.

Shoulder to shoulder, the two Masters stood right behind the couch. Marcus folded his arms over his chest, looking down at his submissive.

Gabi gave him a brilliant smile. “Sir, how nice to see you here already. Did you know the Feds had—”

Sally noticed Master Marcus’s steel-colored suit brought out the blue of his eyes, which were just a shade or two lighter than Vance’s. And Vance’s eyes acquired that same intensity when he slid into that dangerous Dom mode.

“Darlin’ Gabi, I do believe we need to have a bit of a chat.” Master Marcus’s southern accent somehow had taken on an ominous edge. The way he loosened his tie was even more threatening.

Sally twisted around fully. “Master Marcus, it’s all my—”

Laughing, Gabi rose, put a hand over Sally’s face, and pushed her over backward on the couch.

Sally stared up in disbelief.

Turning slightly so Marcus wouldn’t see, Gabi winked before smiling cheerily at her Dom. “Sir, would you really punish me for rushing downstairs to help my friend? Wouldn’t that show you don’t value loyalty?”

The smile that flashed across his face revealed why the man could positively mesmerize a panel of jurors. “That’s a fine defense, sweetheart. Come along now and we’ll discuss it.”

With immense dignity, Gabi walked around the couch to her Dom. They hadn’t gotten far when Gabi shouted, “Spank me! That’s still a punishment. You bloated dickhead, you really are proof that evolution can go in reverse.”

He turned her around, and Sally saw the twitch of his lips before he looked at his submissive sternly, raising his voice slightly. “Master Cullen would enjoy having a bar ornament if your cheeks aren’t up to being reddened.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong. Sir.” Gabi crossed her arms over her chest. Her voice was syrupy sweet as she asked, “Did you ever wonder what life would be like if you’d had enough oxygen at birth?”

He was still laughing as he dropped into a chair, yanked her over his lap, and administered the first resounding whack on her bottom.

“Jessica.” Master Z walked into the sitting area.

Jessica straightened in response.

Eeks. Sally scrambled to a sitting position so fast she almost fell off the couch. Her head spun for a moment. For God’s said, how much alcohol had Andrea put in her drink. She shook her head and frowned. How could she help? Jessica was in trouble because of her.

Dressed in his usual black silk shirt and black tailored slacks, Master Z stopped in front of Jessica’s chair and looked down at her. The deep timbre of his voice was even smoother than the expensive Scotch whisky he preferred to drink. “I realize you wanted to help Sally, but would a phone call to me not have been appropriate?”

Jessica sighed. “Yes, Master. I just…forgot.”

“You’ve forgotten quite a few things recently,” he said gravely. “Is there something—a need—I’m not meeting? Or some reason you might feel insecure?”

When Jessica didn’t answer, he crouched in front of her, taking her face between his hands. “I love you, kitten. Whatever is bothering you, we’ll work it out. But you have to let me in before that can happen.”

“I don’t think that there’s anything.” Jessica’s whisper was almost inaudible. “Just that…”

“That you want a baby. I know, pet.” He studied her for a minute. “Is that all?”

Jessica nodded.

“Then we will continue to work on the problem.” Master Z gave her a flashing smile. “Perhaps some different positions will help. So while you are being punished, you may offer suggestions until I feel we have an adequate variety…or my arm gets tired.”

When Jessica’s mouth dropped open, he traced a finger around her lips. “I like that idea, but I’m afraid it won’t help you get pregnant.”

As she sputtered out a laugh, he pulled her to her feet. “Get my toy bag, please, and wait by the cross at the end of the room.”

“Yes, Master.” She rose on tiptoes to kiss his cheek and gave him a quick grin. “I hope you’re flexible, Master.”

He was chuckling as he turned.

And Sally realized—too late—that she should have fled the minute she had the chance. Idiot. She could have been safely in the parking lot by now. Hoping to level the playing field, she rose to her feet. Useless. She still had to look up at him.

He met her gaze, and his smile faded. “You’ve been crying.”

“Yes, Sir.”

As his attention focused completely on her, she felt as if she were being blasted with a fire hose, destroying her balance and pushing her backward. His darkly tanned face turned stern. “I thought Vance and Galen would be good for you, Sally. I’m sorry to discover I was mistaken.”

“They were good—I mean, I think they’re trying to protect me.”

His eyebrows rose. “Indeed. Does that mean you are still with them?”

“Um, kind of?”

“Explain, please,” he said softly, an underlying anger threading his voice.

But she couldn’t let him be mad at her Feds. She chewed on her lower lip for a moment. “Because they told me to stay away, I thought I’d done something wrong, so I didn’t”—she felt the prickling of tears again—“I didn’t say anything. Didn’t argue. And they were at work, so…maybe that’s why they didn’t explain, and I’m not sure, but I think they’re sending me away to keep me safe.”

“I see.” His eyes filled with disapproval, and he was looking at her. “You didn’t tell them how you felt. Again.”

“N-no.” She pulled in a breath and fessed up. “I was going to just…just leave.” Without making them explain. Without fighting. “I’m an idiot.”

“Good relationships don’t have exit signs, pet,” Master Z murmured, confirming her statement. He put his arms around her and drew her close, wiping out her sense of failure. “Little one, now that you understand, will you be able to talk to them?”

“Yeah,” she whispered into his shirt. The strong arms around her were safety, reassurance, everything she’d never had from her father. Falling down in life was inevitable, and sure, a tough girl kept going anyway. But after collecting bruises and scraped knees, who wouldn’t cherish a helping hand or two? “Yeah, I definitely am.”

“Excellent. However, if they’re worried about your safety, you shouldn’t go there. I’ll arrange for them to come here tomorrow so you can talk.” He gave her a squeeze. “Good girl.”

His approval filled her sails, and she felt as if she were skimming over the water. With a contented sigh, she dared to hug him back.

* * *

Galen knew the photos of the cops, blackened and curled into fetal postures, and even worse, of the young brutalized woman, were going to haunt his dreams. Or nightmares.

Maybe he’d not bother to even attempt to sleep.

In the darkness, he walked the lakeshore path, checking their property for intrusions. A gray shadow in the night, Glock padded behind him, in case an evil rodent escaped the human’s scrutiny.

Galen shook his head. Glock had wandered the house earlier in search of the female who pampered him, carried him, and, even worse, included him in conversations.

When caught trying to explain Sally’s absence…to a cat…Galen had shrugged and given his partner a rueful grin. Did the imp know how much a part of their life she’d become? How she was changing them?

He sighed, fighting the longing to see her.

She was far safer away from him and Vance, but every instinct in his body urged him to keep her close where he could protect her.

His jaw tightened. Once he and Vance had reached home, they’d talked about her. And realized she hadn’t argued. That wasn’t like her.

And yet, he was relieved that she’d agreed so easily. Sally could raise stubborn to a whole new level. If she was so angry with them that she wasn’t talking to them, at least she wasn’t here in the kill zone, trying to change their minds.

The sound of a vehicle on the road made him turn. From the rumble of the engine, he’d guess it was a truck.

“Let’s go see who’s visiting, Glock.”

THE HOUSE WAS too quiet. Trying to work, Vance kept listening for Sally’s quick footsteps. The little submissive rarely walked slowly—sometimes he swore she actually vibrated with all that energy.

Fuck, he missed her already.

At a knock on the front door, he strode out to the foyer. This wouldn’t be Sally. She still had a key. But his hopes drove him into haste, and he swung the door open without looking.

A fist slammed into his jaw.

The force of the blow—and the flare of pain—knocked him back several steps. “What the hell?” Shaking his head to throw off the effects, he saw a man completely filling the doorway. “Cullen?”

“I warned you not to fuck with her.” Cullen took a step into the room.

“Hit me too.” From outside, Galen pushed past the furious Dom to stand beside Vance. “We both agreed to send her away.”

“You fucking assholes.” Cullen’s hands were still in fists. He took a step forward. “She’s beautiful, spirited, intelligent. And you hurt her badly.”

“Hurt?” The word was like a blow in Vance’s chest. “Maybe she’s angry that we told her to stay away, but—”

“Stay away?” Cullen growled. “You dumped her, and she blames herself. Thinks she did something wrong.”

Goddamn it all. “We didn’t—” He turned to Galen and saw matching alarm in his expression. “She thinks we dumped her?”

“Christ, no wonder she didn’t argue,” Galen muttered. He pulled out his cell.

Vance could hear the sound of ringing…and ringing…and the tinny voice mail response. His hands clenched. She’d turned her phone off.

Galen spoke into his phone. “Sally, we are not—I repeat—not breaking up. Try it and I’ll paddle your ass. Call me. Now.”

Cullen snorted, but a grin pulled at his wide mouth. “That was diplomatic.”

Fuck. Vance stared at his partner. “Next time, I do the talking, you asshole.” In fact, he’d call her himself and leave his own message.

“So why the hell did you pull that stunt to begin with?” Cullen asked. He leaned back on the door frame and crossed his arms, one immovable object not about to leave until he got answers. He looked at Galen. “Seriously, buddy, she’s really hurt.”

“Better she be hurt than dead,” Galen snapped.

“Dead.” Cullen straightened. “Explain.”

Despite the ache in his chest, Vance huffed a laugh. Mistake, friend. Never give Galen an opening like that. Another special agent once said Vance might charm his way into heaven, but given time and opportunity, Galen would talk his way out of hell.

Shaking his head, Vance headed for the kitchen to fetch beer. If he and Galen hadn’t been ordered to remain at home, he’d haul ass to Dan’s house so he could talk to Sally in person. Reassure her; comfort her.

Hold her. Jesus, fuck, he needed to hold her. He took out his phone and dialed Dan’s number.

Dan Sawyer walked through the quiet night, the sound of his footsteps and the clicking scratch of Prince’s claws louder than the tree frogs and the distant hum of traffic. The German shepherd took the lead, anointing lampposts, terrifying cats, and inspecting the dark yards. A canine version of a uniformed cop walking a neighborhood beat.