If only

Chapter Eight

The nice thing about dirt roads in the Catskills was he could easily tell if someone was following him. Drew Somerfeld stopped on a rise, got out of his vehicle, and checked his back trail. The dirt hanging in the air was from the tires. The soughing wind ruffled the spruce and fir forest; a creek gurgled over rocks. All quiet—aside from the whimpering of the woman in the trunk. She must have been wakened by the bumpy road.

He slapped the metal to shut her up and climbed back into his car.

A half hour later, he pulled to a stop in front of the isolated cabin he’d bought for his twin. Best decision he’d ever made. His brother couldn’t cope with civilization, but he functioned fine if interactions were kept to only one or two people. No noise, no distractions.

In the turmoil of a city—or mental institution—Ellis couldn’t cope. Here, he did very well, with an occasional outing to satisfy his obsession.

Drew’s lips curled. He’d been quite clever to turn Ellis into the Association’s private executioner.

On the rough excuse for a porch, his brother rose from the ugly chair he insisted on carting around wherever he went. Burn marks covered the chair’s wooden arms.

Hell, his brother was no prettier. White burn scars marred Ellis’s left cheek and jaw, and his eyelid was puckered, pulled askew, giving him a monster-like appearance. Mesmerized at watching their father die in the fire, Ellis had stayed too long. Almost died under the collapsing roof.

Before the fire, he’d been as handsome as Drew. He’d never been as stable though.

Drew had been born first. Their mother always said Drew was greedier, blaming him as if an unborn child could have decided something like that. But the fact was Ellis had been deprived of oxygen, and he just wasn’t as…bright. Or balanced. Something in his brain was off.

But Drew saw to it that he never lacked for anything. Who knows, maybe he owed his twin that.

AS HIS BROTHER got out of his car, Ellis grinned, expectation rising inside him. Had Drew brought a replacement slave?

The job on Tillman had been fun. Ellis had done exactly what his twin wanted, and enjoyed every minute. Especially killing his former slut in front of Tillman, seeing the cop’s helpless fury. Afterward, he’d burned the house to ashes around the lawman and his wife—and hey, he’d even added Tillman’s mother-in-law to the mix. Fun times.

But hauling the slave’s body back out to the car had been an effort. Might have strained his back. Drew’s fucking hired gun hadn’t helped at all, said his job was to guard, not to carry.

But Ellis had followed the rules since his twin was fussy about the body count being right. And once he’d gotten the body into the car, it hadn’t been that difficult to dispose of her in a deep body of water. The fish had to eat too.

Heh. Clever Drew. He’d been the one to realize they could use a bloody, terrified slave to gain entrance to a target’s house.

And Ellis did enjoy making sure each woman was bleeding like a stuck pig. Even gave each one a broken bone or two to ensure they were really crying. Begging to get in.

The door to the house always opened right up. The woman would go through, and Ellis would follow right after. Definitely fun times.

But Drew had decreed no witnesses, so each fire meant he’d lose that slave.

Drew always brought him a replacement. Had he this time?

“Do you have something for me?” He couldn’t help hurrying forward. New slaves were always fun.

Drew grinned and opened the trunk, yanking out a young blonde woman. Blindfolded, handcuffed, wearing leg shackles. “One pretty treat for you, Ell.”

Oh yeah, indeedy yeah. “I like the blonde ones.”

“But you gotta make her last this time. The Feds are getting too close, so I’m shutting down a lot of the services.”

“Right.” Ellis scowled. That meant he wouldn’t be burning anyone for a while either. “I only killed one by accident.”

“True. You’ve done well.” Drew patted his arm. “And you did a fine job with the Tillman fire.”

In a spacious Orlando hotel ballroom, Galen moved through the crowd of celebrating graduates and their friends and families. The music from the orchestra was soft, allowing people the option of dancing or being able to hold a conversation. At one end of the room was a buffet table. A well-stocked bar had been set up in another section, and Vance had headed there to procure drinks.

Galen turned slowly in a circle. His task was to spot a curvy, long-haired brunette in the midst of all these people. A short woman. No longer limping—unlike him—since her ankle had mended nicely in the four days since the asshole’s attack. But since she knew her ankle was weakened, she’d chosen to wear flats rather than heels. Smart woman.

He liked that about her. Liked her.

She was still in their home, and he had gotten far too accustomed to her sprawling over him in the night. When she curled next to Vance, her round ass snuggled against Galen’s groin. She had the prettiest heart-shaped ass he’d ever seen.

And the most tempting. Each day he had increased the girth of the anal plug she wore. She was ready for them now, and he looked forward to seeing her come undone. The sweet little imp gave of herself more generously than any woman he’d ever known.

Finally, he saw her, speaking to a man near the linen-covered tables of food. Although she looked gorgeous in a flame-red gown, the glowing pleasure she’d shown during the ceremony was gone, leaving her face pinched and unhappy. Who the hell was she talking to? Someone from her family?

Galen detoured so he could approach from behind Sally. Study the situation before butting in. Although masculinized, the man’s pointed chin, thin nose, and wide forehead were very similar to Sally’s. Family, all right. This must be the pet-hating father. Galen already disliked him.

“So you’ve finally graduated,” the man was saying to Sally. “You going to get a real job now?”

Galen stopped. That sure wasn’t a loving tone of voice. Or a proud one.

“I’ve always held down a job, Father, starting at twelve,” Sally said, her voice stiff.

“And spent your money on clothes. You’d think you would have learned what was important after you got your mother killed,” the older man said, bitterness in every word.

Christ, what kind of fucked-up shit is this? When Sally flinched at the cruel words, Galen’s hand curled into a fist.

Sally pulled in a shaky breath before straightening her shoulders. How many times had Galen seen her do that? She was so fucking brave.

“Well, thank you for coming, Father,” she said politely. “It was nice to have family present.”

Protectiveness welled in Galen’s heart. He was used to physically shielding his women; looked like this one he’d need to protect emotionally, as well. “There you are,” he said, raising his voice. He stepped up behind her and curved his arm around her waist, feeling the tension in her small body, seeing the guardedness in her eyes. In meth houses, he’d seen children with such eyes.

But he had years of dealing with assholes, so he smiled and prompted her. “And who is this?”

“Um. Right. Father, this is Galen Kouros with the FBI. Galen, this is my father, Hugh Hart.”

Had to say, Hart seemed to be sorely lacking any heart. “Good to meet you.” Sally has nothing but bad things to say about you. He stuck his hand out, ignoring the reluctance the father displayed. The man had the same velvet-brown eyes as Sally, but the lines around his downturned mouth showed a sour personality. His skin was leathery, his build muscular, his hands thick with calluses. She’d spoken of cats in a barn…and she was from Iowa. Probably a farmer.

“FBI?” Hart’s gaze was assessing. “Are you her boyfriend or did you come to arrest her?”

“Boyfriend,” Galen said. Lover. Dom. He was tempted to go on the attack. There were certain people a man wanted to step on as simply a gift to humanity. Something like squashing a cockroach. But this wasn’t the time. Her father. Graduation. Be polite, Kouros. “You must be quite proud of your daughter. She’s done very well.” God knows, I’m proud of her.

“Ah-huh.”

The enthusiasm was underwhelming. Why the hell was this bastard here? “Long way to travel.”

“It was.” The father pulled a camera from his suit-coat pocket. “I need pictures. People in town want to see them.”

Sally posed, her smile so fake that Galen’s gut twisted. Hart started snapping pictures, and after a couple, Galen stepped between them. “That’s enough.” Enough of this bullshit. Enough of messing with your daughter’s emotions.

The man glared and pocketed the camera. “Guess that’s good enough.”

“Tell everyone hi for me.” She glanced up at Galen. “You’d like the people there. Iowans are just plain nice.”

Knowing Sally, he might agree with that…if he hadn’t met her father.

The old guy frowned at Sally. “Now you’re finished with school, come by and get the rest of your junk.”

“Uh. Sure. Is there any hurry?”

“Not particularly.”

Which meant the father just wanted Sally’s stuff gone. Galen could feel the girl absorb that blow.

“All right. As soon as I get a permanent address, I’ll do that.” She gave her father an obviously forced smile.

“See that you do.”

Couldn’t punch an old man for being an asshole…could he? Couldn’t slaughter him verbally—Sally might not like that.

“Excuse me.” Vance took Sally’s other side. “I brought you a drink, sweetheart.”

AS SALLY TOOK the glass, she realized the men were doing their guard-dog maneuver again, taking up positions on each side of her. Her overprotective warriors.

From the look on Galen’s face, he was seriously pissed off at her father.

With good reason. Why had she ever sent her father an invitation? When would she learn that nothing she did would please him? But no matter how much she tried to tell herself that, it never stuck. She kept trying.

Galen’s arm was rigid around her back. “Excuse us, Hart, but we have places to go, people to see. And you can just—”

Before he could finish, a group of her classmates descended on her. In the flurry of congratulations and introductions—and admiring stares at the Feds—she regained her composure. And wasn’t it fun to show them off, because jeez, they looked gorgeous in their tailored suits. Galen in the darkest of grays, Vance in a steel gray with a hint of blue. She could see the women wondering which man Sally was with.

Hands off—they’re both mine. Then she shook her head. Delusional much, Sally?

As the crowd thinned again, she turned back to her father. “Well, I know you have to go,” she said. “Thank you for coming.”

Her father opened his mouth to say something, undoubtedly cruel, and halted at the sound of a happy scream.

Jessica?

A second later, the blonde tugged her away from Galen, and Sally was engulfed in people, congratulations and handshakes and hugs. Master Cullen’s enthusiastic squeeze actually lifted her off her feet. As he set her down, she stared around her in wonder. It looked as if all the Masters and Mistresses—and their submissives—had come all the way to Orlando.

At the edge of the group, her father glared at her before walking away. Her chest hurt, her heart echoing with the emptiness there.

“Not worth being miserable over,” Galen whispered in her ear. “You have people who care about you. Love you.”

So it seemed. The flood of calls and texts and visits after Frank’s attack had astonished her. Made her cry. And now…not just her subbie friends were here, but the Dominants as well. She smiled at them all, then frowned. “I thought I quit the club.”

“You were mistaken.” When Master Z turned to her, Galen surrendered his place. The owner of the Shadowlands cupped her chin and studied her face. His gaze fastened on the bruise she’d thought she covered so well, and his mouth went hard.

“Mistaken?” she asked quickly.

“You are no longer a trainee,” he said quietly. “Not while you’re with Galen and Vance. But you will always be a member of the Shadowlands, Sally.”

Oh God, she was going to cry after all.

His thumb stroked her cheek; then with a faint smile, he gave her to Vance.

She looked at the Fed with blurry eyes, and he gently pressed her head against his shoulder, holding her firmly against him. “Go ahead, sweetie; let it out.”

A couple of choked sobs escaped her before she pulled it together. Party. Friends. She didn’t have time to have a wussy breakdown. As she pulled back, Vance accepted a tissue from Gabi to blot her tears and undoubtedly the running mascara.

“Nice job, stud.” Mistress Olivia grinned at him. “You learn that from making your subbies cry?”

“I practiced on my little sisters.” He winked at Sally and finished, “I perfected the technique from making subbies cry.”

Galen handed her drink back, his dark eyes studying her. She stiffened, expecting him to grill her about her father, but he shook his head. “Relax, pet. Enjoy your party.”

Oh boy. She’d be in for an interrogation later. Bloody, fucking hell. But for now, she’d take Master Fed’s advice and enjoy herself. She’d finally graduated and had friends with whom to celebrate. Her mood brightened as if she’d emerged from a cave into crisp morning sunlight.

She held up her glass to them. “Thank you all for coming.” Her first sip was great. The second…familiar. “This is a Screaming Orgasm!”

Vance’s lips quirked. “We heard you have a fondness for them. But since we might want to play with you later, two is your limit.”

“Pffft.” Sally turned to the other Shadowkittens. “What kind of a limp-dick loser tells his girl, only two orgasms?”

Her girlfriends busted out laughing.

And under the joking, she heard Galen’s amused mutter, “The brat is back.” Before she could comment, he told her in a low voice, “We’re serious, pet. Only two drinks.”

Good luck with that, boys.

To Sally’s delight, the Shadowlands crew stayed, mingling with the grads and their families. Lawyer Marcus, fire inspector Cullen, bounty hunter Anne, and the Feds hooked up with the professors with law-enforcement backgrounds. Their voices stayed low as opposed to the more raucous group containing Linda, who owned a beach shop, Jessica an accounting business, Beth landscaping, Andrea cleaning and some of the grads’ mothers who also ran their own businesses. Apparently taxes could bring out the worst in a woman.

Z, Gabi, and one of the forensics professors were discussing serial killers, causing a quick retreat. Surely there were less disgusting conversations somewhere.

Having heard Sally’s feelings about blood and death, Gabi gave her a wink.

Moving from group to group, Sally finished her first drink and got another. The second tasted fully as nice as the first. She spotted Kari coming across the room.

“Don’t you look wonderful?” Kari beamed at her. “Sorry for bringing up the rear, but I got stuck talking to my mom on the phone. Zane’s giving her trouble. Oh, and Rainie and Uzuri called to say that they were stuck working late today, but to give you hugs from them,” Kari said, putting action to words. “I’m so happy you’ve graduated.”

“Me too.” Sally rolled her eyes. “Even though I didn’t have classes at UCF every day, the commute from Tampa was killing me.”

“Do you have any idea what you want to do now?”

“I’m looking for a job in a police station.”

Kari grimaced. “That should be interesting.”

“The work really is. But ugly sometimes. I saw a murdered guy; my stomach was doing rollercoaster flips for a couple of days.” And longer.

Kim turned from where she stood beside Raoul and gave Sally a worried look. “Those images don’t really go away, you know.” As a former slave, she’d probably seen more than her share.

“So I’m finding.” And yeah, she should never have hacked into the New York police station database. The pictures of that murdered New York police officer… God. Rather than counting sheep at night, she was counting bodies. “But I don’t leave the station very often, so it’s probably not a problem.” She wouldn’t let that be a problem.

“That’s good.” Kari glanced over at the huddle of law types, which her husband had joined. “Dan says you’re living with the two Fed hunks. How’s it going?”

“They’re nicer than I thought,” Sally admitted. “It’s not serious. I mean, hey, they’re players and there are two of them, so I’m totally not wanting long-term. But for right now, it’s like indulging in Halloween candy. I’ll enjoy it until the sweets run out.”

“That sounds smart.” After a sip, Kim frowned at her glass. “Wine might be healthy, but it’s so boring at a party. Maybe I should try that Orgasm drink of yours. What about you, Kari?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “Probably not a good idea. But I could use some water.”

“In that case, ladies, follow me.” Sally led the way to the bar.

The lanky bartender grinned at the three. “What can I get you?”

Kim set down her wineglass and glanced over her shoulder at her Master, where he was illustrating something on a napkin while Nolan and Sam looked on.

“He’s too busy to worry about what you drink,” Sally said. “Besides, orgasms are healthy, aren’t they?” Perhaps not up to Master Raoul’s standards.

Sally looked around and grinned. Oh gee, my Feebies are awfully occupied too. Wasn’t that too bad? She emptied her glass in two gulps and set it with a thump in front of the bartender. “I need another one as well.”

“You’re going to get in trouble with those big doofuses, you know. But I’m in.” Kim told the tall bartender, “Two Screaming Orgasms, please.”

“Coming right up.”

Sally grinned at Kari. “And you?”

Kari shook her head. “No. I haven’t had anything stronger than a glass of wine since Jessica’s bachelorette party.”

Guess ordering one for her wasn’t a good idea. “Hard to drink much with a baby at home.”

“Actually, my mom took Zane home with her for the night.” Kari wistfully watched the bartender making the drinks.

“So are you and Dan gonna party at home tonight?” Kim put her arm around her friend.

“Doubtful,” Kari said under her breath.

Sally frowned. New baby. Dan was working too many long hours. Unhappy look in Kari’s eyes. Sounded like problems in the Sawyer household. “Make a drink for my friend here too,” she told the bartender.

“Hey!” Kari said. “No.”

“If we’re going to get in trouble, so are you.” Sally smirked. “I bet Dan hasn’t had a good reason to spank you in ages.”

The bartender stared, mouth open.

Kari turned red. “I’m going back to the others.” She got two steps before turning to scowl at Sally. “And bring me that drink.” After a glance at the bartender, she added, “If he ever makes it.”

“Huh?” The bartender looked down. “Shit!” Most of the glass was filled with Kahlua.

Oh God. Sally put her hand over her mouth to try to smother her snickers.

Kim, the bitch, had no control and was laughing her fool head off.

The guy pushed the bad drink aside and started making a new one, carefully not looking at them.

As the bartender’s face kept getting redder, Sally couldn’t stop. Giggles broke out so hard she had to hold her stomach. And when she noticed Galen watching, her attempt to stop laughing almost blew her brains out. A horrible snort escaped instead.

“God, stop. I’m going to wet my pants.” Shaking, Kim leaned against her.

“Shit,” the bartender muttered and set them both off again.

Composure finally regained, Sally straightened and wiped her eyes.

Lips still quivering, Kim picked up her drink from the table, sipped, and told the bartender solemnly, “Thank you. It’s very good.”

“Good to hear.” He offered Sally her drink.

When Sally reached for it, he held on to the glass. “So, you like spanking?” he tried to say casually.

“Ah—”

“She does.” Galen’s dark voice sounded a second before his arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back against his rock-hard body. “But my hand is the only one that gets applied to her pretty ass.”

The bartender released her glass so quickly she almost dropped it.

Galen turned her and guided her back to the group. “Enjoy your third drink, pet. Because I’m going to enjoy punishing you for it.” He rubbed her bottom, and she could feel the hardness of his palm through her silky dress before he left her beside Kim and Kari.

Leaving Galen to check the mailbox at the end of the drive, Vance held open the front door for Sally.

In the entry, Glock was sprawled out like roadkill on the tile floor. He opened his eyes and obviously decided his humans didn’t require more effort than an ear swivel.

Sally detoured around him; Vance stepped over.

The reception had lasted past midnight, and Sally had sobered up somewhat, but she was still in a chatty, cheerful mood. As she whirled around in the center of the room, her hair fanned out around her. “I had so much fun.”

Fuck, she was a cutie.

Glock scooted out of her way, retreating with an indignant tail flick into the game room.

“Thank you so much for coming to my party.” Sally spun again. This time, her ankle gave out, sending her staggering back.

Grinning, Vance caught her before she landed on her ass. He bent and took himself a long, slow kiss, gathering her against him. Full breasts, lush butt, all that hair like silk over his arm. Oh yeah.

And she melted into him, returning his kiss with enthusiasm.

“You’re living with us. Why wouldn’t we come to your party?” He stepped back, telling his cock to ease down.

“Well.” When she shrugged, he could almost see her reason: that her own father hadn’t wanted to attend, so why would her casual lovers?

“We enjoyed ourselves.” He’d have done a whole lot more to see her so happy. Smiling, he patted her ass. “Why don’t you get comfortable? Go take a nice shower. We’ll be in the kitchen.”

“Okay.” She danced through the foyer and up the winding stairs, one steadying hand on the wrought-iron railing.

“Nice to see her in such high spirits, isn’t it?” Galen stood in the doorway, his gaze on the stairs.

“Yep. Bet her mood would lighten even more if we could get her to open up. That father of hers made me want to flatten him.”

“Same here.” Galen came into the room, leaning heavily on his cane. The obstinate fool hadn’t used it at the reception. “Before you joined us, her father said something about Sally killing her mother.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Vance stared at him.

“Made her cringe like a kicked puppy.”

The spitfire wouldn’t react like that if she didn’t buy into the dickhead’s logic. Not good. “She’s taking a shower now. How about we grab us a clean little subbie and get some answers.”

Galen winced. “Hell of a way to end a party.”

“We have to do it, sooner or later.”

He got a slow nod from his partner. “Ayuh. But where? Not a bedroom. Don’t want an interrogation where we sleep.”

“The moon’s up. Let’s use the cabana.” Vance estimated how much time Sally had been scrubbing. “I should have enough time for a shower.”

“Best if you take the good cop role tonight.”

“Works for me.” He made a lousy emotional surgeon; he didn’t have the heart to dig deep enough to open up past traumas. But he was excellent at the recovery stage—one reason he and Galen worked so well together. “I don’t want to be the villain for this.”

Not with Sally. She already pulled at his heart. Truly hurting her would turn him inside out.

Galen’s mouth tightened. “This might not be pretty. Not from what I saw tonight.”

“Yeah.”

Galen smiled slightly. “How ’bout you start the evening by showering with our pet? Work her up a bit. Get her ready to be grilled. Then we’ll take her higher.”

Vance’s spirits lifted. He certainly couldn’t add to that excellent plan.

On second thought, he could. “She disobeyed us. I think she’d do better if we enforce the rules, even if they were in fun.”

“Maybe.” Galen rubbed his chin where his heavy beard growth was showing. “Yes. It would leave her more open for questioning—and it won’t be any hardship to beat on that sweet ass.”

“Didn’t think so.”

After pinning her hair on top of her head, Sally stood in the shower, letting the hot water roll down her body. Enjoying the feeling, letting herself relax. She loved showers—and this one was almost as wonderful as the one in Master Z and Jessica’s place.

She stroked her hand over the marbled tile walls and smiled at the space around her, more than enough for three people. Larger than the men’s own showers…

And, speaking of men, she should probably get out and tell the guys good night. What a wonderful evening she’d had. Finally graduating was satisfying, but even more splendid was to share that step with everyone. A small, sour feeling ran through her at the memory of her father but was erased by remembering Galen and Vance beside her. And how the whole Shadowlands gang had come to her party. She sighed with happiness.

The shower door opened.

Sally gasped and recognized her intruder a second before she screamed the house down. “Vance! This is my shower.”

“And this is my house.” His lazy smile creased his cheek as he pushed her back far enough that he could step in. “I need someone to wash my back.”

God, faced with that utterly confident gaze, she’d do anything. But he certainly didn’t need to know that. “Oh please, as if you haven’t been—”

“Sally.” He was so easygoing she forgot how he could jerk her power away with a mere word.

Her insides turned liquid. Even more disconcerting was the way her heart turned to soft goo. No. No no no. Keep it together, girl.

“Well, okay then.” She clapped her hands and gave him a simpering smile. “Want me to wash your back, Master Buchanan, Sir?”

“Why yes, Sally. That would be very nice.” His cordial tone somehow didn’t negate the steady, assessing look in his eyes.

Oh man, she was in so much trouble—because that look made her want to go to her knees. She squirted his spicy-scented liquid soap on a washcloth and set to scrubbing his back. A very wide back, broad shoulders, muscles that bunched every time he moved.

“That feels good.” He turned, grasped her wrists, and set her hands on his chest. Christ on a slippery slope, but she’d never, ever get tired of touching him.

Of serving him. Of lo— She deleted that thought before it could even run.

Reboot.

Back to the subroutine programmed for sex, please.

He put a finger under her chin, eyes narrowing when she gave an involuntary shake of her head.

No. Stay out of my brain.

Her hands were flattened on his chest. She could feel his heart beating against her fingertips as his face gentled and the look in his eyes…changed.

His deep blue gaze held her, pulled her in, filled her world.

And he kissed her, slow and deep and more wonderful than any kiss she’d ever had before. He rubbed his nose along hers in a gentle caress and smiled.

“You planning to wash me, little subbie?” he murmured.

“Anything you want,” she whispered, then blinked. What?

He laughed and put her hands back on his chest.

Right. Don’t look at his eyes. Or his face.

So she soaped up his chest, getting mesmerized by how he had just the perfect amount of hair sprinkled across his solid pecs. The inverted triangle changed to a narrow line down to where…he had a gorgeous hard-on.

Well, that could keep her busy and her mind off…other thoughts.

He chuckled and wrapped her fingers around his erection. Thick. Long. Veins curving around the silken skin. She had the time now to look. To enjoy. She slid her hand up and down, teasing with squeezes, adding her other hand. She leaned forward so her breasts would rub on his lower chest. Oh, she definitely wanted him. But just his body. Not anything more.

And she’d start by driving him crazy. That would be an excellent end to the evening.

But before she could go down on him, he stopped her, picked up the soap, and started to suds her breasts. Oh holy God. An insistent pinch brought her up on tiptoes. “Pay attention to what you’re doing, sweetheart,” he said. “Keep those hands moving.”

Having taken a quick shower, Galen carried his toy bag down the tiny path that angled off from the back of the house. The foliage grew thicker as he approached the lake where the cabana rested on stilts near the water’s edge. The place was perfect for housing guests who desired privacy—or it would be once they got it remodeled. Since the building had a tiny kitchenette and bathroom, he and Vance had slept here when they’d first moved into the house. But the only restoration done so far was to yank out the small window overlooking the water and put in a wall-sized one.

He stepped inside and looked around. One corner held a small fridge and stovetop with cupboards over them and a nearby tall cabinet. Twin beds were pushed against two walls. A sturdy square table and two wooden-backed chairs were close to the front door. On the wall to the left, the window showed the moon over the lake sending fingers of light across the black water.

Yes, this would do nicely. He took ropes from his bag. The table would be a fine height for play.

As Galen finished setting various implements around the room, he heard Sally’s voice outside. Not good the way it made his heart lift.

Followed by Vance, Sally walked in, attired in a long fleece robe.

Her flushed cheeks and swollen lips looked as if she’d been nicely aroused. Galen gave his partner a nod of approval and tried not to grin. Bet his jeans had been difficult to zip up over that hard-on.

“This is a great place.” Sally spun in a circle and came to a sudden halt. She’d spotted the paddle on the table, the crop on the bed. “You’re going to punish me? But…I just graduated.”

“I heard a rumor to that effect.” Galen stepped closer and undid the ties of the robe. As the sides opened, he caught the fragrance of aroused woman, soap, lotion. “You smell good, pet.”

“I’m not wearing any perfume.”

“You don’t need any.” He pushed the robe farther back so he could caress her soft breasts. When he scraped his thumbnail over one pointing nipple, her sharp inhalation was his reward. And, as he’d expected, she automatically tried to step back. Already standing behind her, Vance blocked that retreat.

“Do you run away because of instincts, or do you really not like my hands on you?” Galen asked. He curved his fingers under her breast, feeling the heavy roundness. Her spiked nipple, her response to his touch had already told him the answer, but she needed to acknowledge it to herself.

“I-I guess instincts.”

She’d even dodge verbally. “Do you like my hands on you?” he asked her directly.

Her gaze dropped. “Yes.”

And even though he knew her answer already, hearing her admit it made him feel like he’d reached a mountain peak. He cleared his throat. “All right. Do you like Vance to touch you?”

“Yes.” Her voice had lowered, as if she were confessing a crime.

“That’s good, pet. We plan to do a great deal of touching tonight.” Time to rev up those nerves a bit. “Some you’ll like. Some you won’t.”

His fingers on her breast registered the increase in her pulse.

Very nice. “Now, before we do anything else, let’s get your punishment out of the way.” And start her off on her journey to another plane.

She jolted slightly. “I get punished because I graduated?”

“Sally. You get punished because you had an extra drink after I told you not to,” Vance said.

“B-but it was a party. My party.”

“We wanted to play with you afterward,” Galen replied.

Vance said, “And we didn’t want you breaking your neck if your ankle gave out.” At her flush, he added, “Alcohol and gimp legs don’t mix well.”

Wasn’t that the fucking truth, Galen thought sourly. But his mood lightened as he looked at the imp. Even subdued, she still seemed filled with joy. By God, she was something. He smiled and touched her cheek. “Ready, imp?”

When she raised her big brown eyes, Vance grinned at Galen over her head and tugged her robe completely off.

Galen doubted he’d ever get tired of seeing her without clothing. The faint moonlight slid across her bare skin like a lover’s stroke, highlighting areas he planned to touch, shadowing those where the scent of woman would be strongest.

Vance curled his hand around her upper arm. After taking his seat in the chair next to the table, he firmly pulled her down over his knees.

The moonlight turned her full round ass to a marble white.

That skin was just begging to be pinkened.

SALLY SPLAYED HER hands on the floor, trying to stay balanced on Vance’s very muscular thighs. Her pulse had sped up; her skin felt overly sensitive, as if even the air was scraping across it.

When she shifted uncomfortably, he ruthlessly arranged her position so her bottom rose higher in the air. “You know why you’re being punished. Do you have any questions?”

Had she ever seen the guys doing a punishment scene? How bad was this going to get? She turned her head so she could see Galen’s face. “What are you planning to do?”

His expression hardened with disapproval. “I’m not impressed with Z’s lessons for the trainees.”

God, no trainee would ask a question like that. Why did she keep forgetting her self-discipline with these guys? “Sorry, Sir.”

Galen leaned his hip on a corner of the table and regarded her with a grave expression. “Is obedience too much to ask of you?”

The question took her breath away. “No, Sir.” Knowing she’d disappointed them created an ugly feeling in her chest. They’d been kind to her, she’d asked them to be her Doms, and then she kept smarting off. And deliberately disobeyed a direct order.

Did they even like her anymore? She swallowed past a tight throat.

After a minute, Vance laid his hand on her bottom. The warmth sank into her cold skin. “Pretty little ass, don’t you think, Galen?”

“Ayuh.” Galen pulled the empty chair out from the table and moved it so he could rest his injured leg on the bed. Obviously settling in for the show.

She gritted her teeth and prepared for the worst. At one time, she’d thought Vance was the easygoing one. That assumption might have been incorrect.

He stroked and massaged before slapping lightly all over her bottom. She closed her eyes as a kernel of worry sprouted. The care he was taking meant he planned a longer session.

Slap, slap, slap. He worked his way up and down her bottom in sets of three, pausing briefly before hitting harder. As he established his rhythm, the mild sting turned to a burn. To the beginning of pain. But he stopped and returned to rubbing her bottom.

She started to smile. That wasn’t bad at all. Almost erotic. She’d been right after all; Vance wasn’t into dispensing pain. She relaxed, enjoying the slight scrape of his calloused palm over her tenderized flesh.

He leaned forward, reaching toward the table. But the surface had been empty except for…that narrow wooden paddle.

No!

The paddle smacked her right in the sweet spot, the rise of her cheek from the crease of her thigh. The sound was startling, the bite meaner.

She gasped, and her fingers curled, finding only cold wood to hold.

Smack, smack, smack. “You disobeyed us, Sally.” Smack. Smack. Smack. “Didn’t you ask us to take you on?” He paused.

Oh God, he really did plan to punish her. Her breath shuddered into her lungs as his words registered. She’d been the one to ask them. “Y-yes, Sir. I did.”

Smack, smack, smack. “Where we come from, submissives obey their Doms. Is it different in Florida?”

The pain crept in; the blows blurred together, leaving the burn and pain behind. He’d paused so she could answer. What could she say? She hadn’t even tried to obey them. She closed her eyes, feeling like a failure. I’m sorry. Don’t be mad…please. I didn’t mean to make you mad. “No, Sir. I should have obeyed you.”

Smack, smack, smack. “Since we’re just getting to know each other, I’m not all that upset. Or disappointed.”

Her relief actually overcame the pain for a second. Don’t hate me. Please don’t hate me.

“We try not to give many orders. But you’ll learn that we take obedience seriously.”

Smack, smack, smack.

Tears prickled at the back of her eyes. He’d been so good to her. Caring for her after she’d been hurt. “Ready to get off the floor, sweetie?” Holding her so gently after the nightmares. So patient. And look how she’d rewarded him.

Smack, smack, smack.

“If you disobey, you get punished. And not in a sexy, fun way. Is that clear?”

Fire bit into her skin. She tried to blink the tears away; the pain was coming from her heart as well as her skin. “Yes, Sir.”

After setting the paddle on the table, he rubbed her bottom. His hand felt cool against her burning skin.

With a long sigh, she let herself relax. That was it. Not so bad—except for the shame simmering deep inside her. The worry that he’d find her too much trouble.

He could easily find someone who’d work hard to please him. A good submissive.

She let out a breath. She should be relieved that this hadn’t been so bad. Not a deterrent at all. Was that good? Some submissives worried about upsetting their Doms, knowing they’d get an ass walloping nasty enough to make them think twice about—

“Up you go, sweetheart.” Vance helped her stand. Rather than pulling her into his arms for some after comforting, he rose. With a cop’s grip around her upper arm, he led her across the room to Galen.

“Warm-up finished. All yours.” Vance’s words didn’t register for a moment, not until Galen stood up.

Warm-up? That was a warm-up? And Galen would… She shrank back against Vance.

The corner of Galen’s mouth tipped up. “This is the difference between playing at the club and actually having a Dom. Your own Doms will take disobedience a bit more seriously. Because they care enough to make you obey.”

Your own Doms. The phrase ran like liquid sunshine over Sally’s soul before her mind scrambled back behind her defenses. “Are you saying you’ll beat on me because you care?”

Galen’s black gaze softened. “Actually, yes.” He stroked her cheek with his fingertips, holding her gaze with his.

Her breathing stopped. He cared. For me?

And then he took a step back. “Bend over the bed. Rest your weight on your forearms.”

Oh fuck fuck fuck. As she complied, her arms sank down into the puffy blue quilt. The bed was low, positioning her bottom higher.

“Move your feet out.”

She inched her bare feet outward. The position lowered her butt slightly but put more weight on her arms and made it more difficult to stand. More helpless.

He picked up a thin rattan cane. “All right, pet. I’m not going to count. I will continue until I think you’re properly repentant.”

“But I am. I—”

His sigh was loud. “Don’t bother to talk to me. I’m not sure you even know what true remorse means.”

The first slash of the cane struck her bottom and it hurt, blasting across her skin like fire.

No! She tried to stand and realized Vance sat at the foot of the bed. His hand curled over her nape, holding her in place.

Blow after blow smacked into her flesh with a nasty stinging pain. And suddenly, shockingly, she was crying. Hard horrible choking sobs that hurt her throat. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t—didn’t mean to disappoint you. I’m sorry.”

“There we go.” Galen’s voice was rougher than normal, raw as the pain of her skin. “That was repentant.”

Vance released her.

Hard hands mercilessly pulled her onto a lap. Her bottom scraped on the harsh material of jeans, and she tried to jump up—and was pulled back down, secured with muscular, adamant arms. His hand—Galen’s—tucked her head against his shoulder, holding her as she cried.

Her face pressed against his chest, wetting it with her tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again.

“I believe you, pet.” She felt his lips against the top of her head, and the jagged glass fence around her heart began to thaw.

His scent, masculine and rich, wrapped around her, confirming his presence with each breath she took. As the burning subsided, she could feel, even more than his strength, the controlled gentleness with which he held her. How his hand cupped the back of her head. His slow breathing. His patience.

Gradually her crying changed to hiccupping sobs.

Vance sat on the bed and took her hand. “All done, Sally.” He stroked her head and tried to release her hand, but her fingers closed around his.

Stay. Somehow she needed him there—both of them. Their presence was as comforting as having a man in the house if opening the door after dark. Knowing, despite the monsters in the night, that they’d keep her safe.

GALEN FELT THE tightness in his chest ease as Sally clung to him. A true submissive, she wasn’t fuming at her punishment but had let the tears wash away her shame and free her from guilt.

When he checked Vance, his partner made a small rotation of his shoulder. No trouble interpreting that unhappy movement.

Galen too, had been surprised at how long it had taken to break through her defenses. This one didn’t cry easily. And he hadn’t liked administering the last few strokes needed to push her there. He liked erotic pain—and maybe a touch beyond—but this had gone past his comfort level.

But apparently she’d forgiven them both, and damn, she was wonderful to hold.

As Sally’s breathing evened out, Vance rummaged through the fridge to get bottled waters. He drank one and set Galen’s on the table. After handing Sally one, he plucked her out of Galen’s arms and sat down with her on his lap.

Galen nodded approval and rose. She’d need Vance’s arms around her during the next phase. Meantime, he circled the room, drinking his water, stretching out his leg…and formulating his strategy.

She’d finished drinking by the time Galen took the bottle from her. She gave him a wary look. Smart little submissive.

Galen moved the chair to the bed, straddled it, and leaned his arms on the back. “Interesting man, your father.”

She flushed.

“You know, my parents are almost as uncaring as he is,” Galen said lightly. Even as a teen, he’d compared his parents to frozen fish. Vance’s family had shown him how much he’d missed.

Sally frowned at him. Her color had returned to normal, although her eyes were still reddened. “My father isn’t—”

Vance squeezed her in warning.

She closed her eyes for a second. “Yes, my father is cold.” She reached out to touch Galen’s hand. “I’m sorry if your parents are too.”

There was that compassionate heart he’d seen before. The little brat had a generous spirit. “How did your father punish you when you messed up?” The bastard hadn’t let her have pets. This evening, he’d edged into what Galen would consider verbal abuse. How far had he gone with a child?

As she stiffened, Vance combed her hair with his fingers, saying, “Now my dad was a firm believer in spankings, but my mom preferred time-outs. Personally, I’d rather be spanked than be stuck inside all afternoon.”

Good guy; bad guy. If Galen couldn’t scare a perp into talking, Vance’s sincerity often lured the answers out.

“He usually sent me to my room.” Her expression darkened, like ink spilled into clear water.

Galen felt his instincts twang.

“Without supper?” Vance asked lightly. Over her head, his worried gaze met Galen’s.

“Huh. At least.” She turned her head into Vance’s chest.

At least? Galen controlled his voice, keeping it even. “How long did he usually leave you there, Sally?”

“Oh, just till the next day.” Despite her efforts to make the words flippant, the strain—and hurt—came through. “I’d get to come down to breakfast.”

And if she’d screwed up at breakfast? “And the longest?”

“Uh. Not much—”

“Be honest, sweetheart,” Vance said, and she stiffened, catching the warning note.

“Three days,” she whispered into Vance’s chest. Her laugh was thin, filled with pain. “If the school hadn’t called to ask why I was absent, I wonder if I’d still be there.”

Why hadn’t someone sent the bastard to hell and gone? Galen’s jaw muscles clenched, hindering his ability to talk.

“How old were you?” Vance was doing better than Galen at keeping the questions coming.

“I think I was twelve. My mother had…” Her mouth pressed into a thin line of pain.

There it is. Like in his favorite childhood game, clues would eventually line up to reveal the crime. Colonel Mustard in the library with the candlestick. He hadn’t planned to ask this so soon, but the opening was there. “Sally, why did your father say you killed your mother?”

Every bit of color drained from her face.

“YOU…” MOM. OH, Mom. Sally couldn’t—couldn’t believe he’d asked such an unspeakable question. Her thoughts fled, disappeared, hollowing her mind into dark emptiness. Like a dog’s choke chain, tightness circled her throat until only strangled wheezing escaped. Unable to even look at the cruel beast who would ask such a thing, she pushed her face against Vance’s chest.

“Answer the question, Sally.” With a determined grip, Vance turned her to face his partner.

No. I won’t.

Galen’s gaze met hers, ensnared hers. The patient expectation in his expression was impossible to ignore. After a moment, he threw her something easier to answer. “How old were you when she died?”

“Eleven.” Saturday afternoon. Her straw-filled hair had been in tangles from playing in the barn with half-grown cats. Her homework had been finished the night before, because she was a geek. Called into the house to answer the phone. Lauren was having a semisurprise birthday party that night and invited Sally. A popular girl had asked her, the chubby nerd, to a party. Her excitement had made her feel like a balloon ready to pop. Then it all went wrong. “And I got a new dress.”

She shut her stupid mouth, knowing it was too late.

Galen’s expression had sharpened. “Why was a new dress a problem?”

“Please, Mom. Please. I’ll do my chores and I’ll clean the barn and…” She’d begged and promised, because she just knew that looking right would let her be one of—maybe not the in crowd—but maybe the normal girls. She wouldn’t still be stuck in with the losers, the really overweight ones, or those on welfare. The ones who had pimples. Or never washed. God, how shallow they’d all been. She’d been. “Father had said no. No more money for clothes.”

“So how did you end up with a new dress?” Vance asked gently.

“Mom drove me into town. It was snowing. Blowing.” Leaving the store, she’d been blinded by her hair whipping around her face. The car shook with the gusts of wind. The snow hitting the windshield sounded like sizzling bacon. A storm turning to a blizzard.

Galen’s intent eyes lit with comprehension. The ancient Greeks loved tragic plays; did his heritage mean he’d understand? “An accident?” he asked softly.

“The bridge was old. There was ice under new snow.” Skidding. She swallowed, her mouth tasting like metal. “The car… The railing broke.” Screaming and falling and screaming. The smash, breaking, shattering sounds, the horrendous impact that could still knock her out of her nightmares. “We went over the side.” So much pain, blood everywhere, like a kicked-over can of red paint. Mom. Mom! Not answering. Shaking her. Screaming and crying and—

“Shhhh.” Vance stroked her hair.

As Sally had finally stroked her mother’s. Soft hair. Pretty. Had Mom felt her attempt at comfort, even in heaven?

“And your father blames you because she died?” Vance asked.

Her voice came out harsh. “Yeah.”

“Because you’d…” Galen’s voice trailed off, an invitation for the rest.

She tried to look away. He caught her chin gently. Firmly. Turned her back. Damn him. “Because I begged. She didn’t want to buy anything, didn’t want to spend the money, and I thought only of myself and made her go to town”—her voice rose—“because I’m selfish and stupid and always wanting stuff.”

Her shouting should have made him back away. Should have made Vance release her instead of holding her tighter.

Galen’s lips turned up, his gaze filled with approval that…that she could actually recognize. “That’s a good baby girl,” he murmured. His mouth touched hers for a second, his lips soft. “Thank you for sharing with me.”

The taste of salt made her realize tears were running down her cheeks.

Vance wiped them away gently. “You’re not selfish. Or stupid. Your father is the stupid one.”

“Exactly.” Galen squeezed her shoulder before rising to walk around the room, his cane forgotten in the corner.

Exhausted, she lay in Vance’s arms and just watched his slow, limping circuits.

Eventually, he came to a stop in front of her. “Homework for you. We’ll expect it tomorrow night.”

Homework? Had she slipped into an alternate universe, one where a crying outburst was followed by school? “Excuse me?”

His lips quirked. “Homework. Use one of your school notebooks. I want an essay about what a parent can reasonably expect from a preteen. Specifics, please. Include quotes from people about whining and begging and adolescent temper. Use the Internet—and document your sources.”

“What?” Her brain wasn’t keeping up, no way, no how.

“There are quite a few parenting sites out there,” Vance said helpfully, obviously on board with the insane scheme. “You might try those first.”

“But I got my mother killed.”

“Baby girl,” Galen said. “You didn’t. You were a typical irritating teenager, wanting something and whining to get it. If we put every teen who displayed that kind of obnoxious behavior in jail, we’d depopulate the world.”

“You’d have to start with my nieces and nephews.” Vance chuckled. “‘I want. I want. I want,’ alternates only with ‘I need. I need. I need.’ Sweetheart, you were a normal young girl. Not someone evil.”

As she looked at Vance and Galen, her eyes filled with tears again, blurring the room’s walls to an underwater montage. Vance made a soft sound and tucked her back under his chin, rocking her slightly.

“I think you’ve had enough, pet,” Galen said. His eyes crinkled. “But do your homework before bedtime tomorrow night, or you’ll be bending over the bed again.”

And suddenly she could again feel how sore her bottom was. Ouchers.

No wonder Kim thought twice before disobeying Master Raoul.