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.
“I received your message about a problem with the order.”
Maganti sat up as anxiety burned off his relaxed mood. “Yes. I’m sorry, but—”
“What happened?”
“The lighter-colored piece is more trouble than it’s worth.” The Overseer's list included a sassy blonde and a brunette from the Shadowlands. Maganti was to take whoever proved safer.
But his investigation showed the blonde had a relationship with her dom and saw him during the week as well as on BDSM nights. Often a woman who only played at a club could disappear without making waves. Hell, half the time a dom wouldn’t even know a sub’s real name. But a husband or lover would search forever and create all sorts of stink.
“I see. And the other?”
“Unavailable.” The fucking brunette had disappeared into thin air.
“That’s disappointing. Let me check if I received an update.” The clicking of a keyboard broke the silence on the phone. “Ah yes. There’s a very fine piece that fits our specifications. I’ll send you the new parts number.”
Maganti grinned. Score! When the brunette cunt had disappeared last Sunday, he’d worried he’d lose a fucking quarter of his potential fee. “Good enough. I’ll watch for it.” He didn’t know where the dude got the names of the females; he didn’t need or want to know.
“Any trouble securing the rest of the order?”
“Nope. I’m waiting for the pickup now, in fact.” He’d grabbed this bitch easily enough. Even better, the only people who might miss her were at her job. On Monday, he’d send her boss an e-mail explaining she’d had a death in the family.
“Very good. Will the new part be ready before next Sunday? After that would be too late.”
“If the new piece checks out, I’ll package the last order for shipping on Friday or Saturday.”
“Good.” Silence indicated the Overseer had hung up.
Maganti heard retching noises coming from the back and turned to yell at Jang, “Get that fucking gag off before she chokes.” He spotted a boat pulling up to the dock. “Her ride’s here. Let’s move.”
Chapter Fourteen
The Shadowlands had closed. Holding his little trainee’s wrist, Marcus led her down the private hallway, then outside. After the dry air-conditioned atmosphere of the club, the sultry air wrapped around him like a sweaty fist.
Gabi stopped. Her eyes were big and frightened, making him want to pull her into a hug and reassure her. “I need to go home now,” she said.
“You live alone and don’t have a job at present. Is there a reason you can’t stay a couple of hours longer?”
Her mouth opened, then closed. She’d decided not to lie to him. This time.
“That’s what I thought.” He took her around the corner to Z’s private yard at the rear of the Shadowlands. The other three doms had already congregated on the veranda. Z wasn’t in sight.
Gabi stopped again, obviously seeing everyone present was a Shadowlands Master. “But—”
“Kneel right here, sugar.”
She did so silently, which told him how terrified she must be. She stared at the men.
Many doms, one sub. Of course she was worried. He caressed her cheek. “Gabrielle, I am planning to do a scene with you, but it will be only me and you.”
Her shoulders relaxed.
Better. “Stay here for now, Darlin’.” He strolled over to the other Masters, who stood across the veranda by the small refrigerator.
“"Bout time you decided to join us for a poker night, buddy.” Cullen grinned. “Can I hope your reluctance means you don’t know how to play?”
“Poker? I thought Raoul said bridge.”
Laughing, Cullen handed him a beer.
Still in his black leathers and T-shirt, Nolan gestured toward Gabi with his drink. “Did you bring her to play poker, or is there a problem?”
“Problem.” Marcus looked at him, then Cullen and Raoul. “I’m not getting what is going on in her head. She’s submissive and at times beautifully so. And out of the blue, she’ll turn defiant, even past the point of self-preservation.”
“I’ve seen that.” Cullen scratched his jaw. “Damned if I’ve figured out her motivation either.”
“What can we do, my friend?” Raoul asked.
“I’d like to do a scene with her, get her into subspace, and find some answers. But I usually have an idea of where I’m going. This time—”
Cullen nodded. “You want backup if needed, and other eyes in case we can spot a clue.”
“Exactly. I realize it will delay the game.”
“Comes with the territory,” Nolan said. “Besides, Z called a bit ago. Said he had to take Jessica home and he’d be late. You want to wait?”
Marcus hesitated and then shook his head. “He’s deliberately keeping something back about her. I’ll do this without him.”
“You need help setting up?” Raoul asked.
“No setup. I’ll use the posts out here.” Marcus turned to check on Gabi. She knelt, watching him, her nervousness apparent in her wide brown eyes and clenched hands. So quiet. Why so submissive now? “Come here, please.”
She rose quite gracefully, he noticed. She’d obviously practiced a bit.
Nolan grunted in approval, and Cullen murmured, “She’s a pretty sub, Marcus.”
When she stood in front of him, she asked, “Yes, Sir?”
“You’re beautiful like this,” he said, seeing the need to please shining in her eyes.
She flushed.
He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m going to flog you, sugar.”
Gabi inhaled sharply and took a step back. Was he insane? “You kept me here to—”
“I’m not a sadist, Gabi, and we both know you enjoy a bit of pain. This is just a different type.” Without giving her time to think it over, he guided her between two patio posts that had bolts embedded up high.
