Cherished (Masters and Mercenaries #7.5)(12)

He hung up immediately.

He was going to have to change his number. He quickly dialed Mitch’s phone and was happy when he picked up on the first ring. Will didn’t wait for his voice to come over the line. “Why the f*ck is she out of jail?”

“Well, hello to you, Doctor Daley. You’re in a good mood.”

“I got a call from Leslie Starling.” Starr’s real name. She’d told him she preferred Starr because they twinkled so brightly and she wanted to be something pretty.

He’d met her at the first club he’d gone to. He hadn’t been able to resist his needs a second longer. That club had been a hellhole compared to Sanctum, but he’d felt at home the minute he took a class and picked up a flogger. He’d finally found a place he belonged and then she’d shown up. Lovely and deeply submissive, she’d brought him a certain peace. She’d needed him.

She’d been lying all the while.

He could still feel the needle in his neck, the pain flaring before something so much sweeter took its place. Heroin. They’d given him heroin.

He still thought about it.

“Shit. The prison allowed her to call you? Are you f*cking kidding me?” Mitch’s voice grounded him. “All right. First, I’m going to call and have the warden’s ass and then I’m going to make sure every guard at that prison knows her status. I can get a restraining order even while she’s waiting trial.”

He forced himself to calm. He wasn’t truly afraid of a five foot nothing girl. He was afraid of what she’d done to him. She’d taken his control. She’d shown him how good it could be to float away. Like his mother had. He’d always known he was a time bomb waiting to go off. “She wasn’t calling from prison. Trust me. I know there’s a protocol to be followed when one calls from prison.”

His mother had called every time she got arrested. She would call and beg him to make her bail. He’d started getting those calls when he was ten years old and every time a voice came over the phone requesting that he take a call from so and so prison or jail. He still got those damn calls at least once a month. Starr’s voice hadn’t been preceded by anything. Starr was out. She was walking the streets.

“All right. First, I’ll find out what’s happening on my way to your place,” Mitch said.

“You don’t have to come here.”

“Yes, I do because this is going to get to you. You’re going to think about it and you need someone around to talk to. We’ll sit and watch the game and order a pizza. Unless you have other plans.”

Something eased in his gut. He really would rather have company. “No pizza. Lisa made dinner and no, I don’t have plans, you bastard. I almost had Bridget but guess who called right before I got to the good stuff?”

“Shit. You need to get rid of that answering machine. Join the twenty-first century.”

“I’m not completely out yet. She’s thinking about it, but you owe me.”

“Anything for my favorite client.” Mitch had been the one to smooth the way with the police after the “incident.” Even though the cop involved knew Will was innocent, there was still paperwork to be done and questions to be answered. Mitch had shown up, offered his services, and they’d become friends. Mitch was the one who convinced him to give Sanctum a chance.

“Get your ass over here so I can punch you in the face.”

“On my way.” The phone hung up and Will was alone again.

But not entirely. He’d learned to take stock of what was good. He breathed in the smell of the lasagna. His sister had made it for him. She’d turned into an amazing young woman. He looked over at Bridget’s wine glass and the salad he’d made. She hadn’t said no. And Mitch was on his way.

He was in control. He wasn’t going to end up some crazed addict, because he had things to live for and getting inside Bridget was definitely one of them.

He pulled the lasagna out and quickly made her a plate. He placed it on a tray along with a couple of cookies he’d bought at the bakery down the street. He wrote a quick note about wanting to make sure she ate a decent meal. He took it out the door and set it in front of hers. After pressing the doorbell, he stepped back into his condo and shut the door.

He couldn’t help watching her through his peephole and he didn’t miss the way she smiled.

He really had to stop the creepy-stalker stuff, but he was smiling, too.





Chapter Three





“Are you serious? He blackmailed every Dom in the club so that he could have you all to himself?” Serena asked before she downed a mini quiche. “That’s so romantic.”

Bridget looked around the small party at Grace Taggart’s house to see if someone was listening in. The subs were all here, all in their prettiest dresses and heels, and she felt like a troll.

“It is kind of sweet if you think about it.” Chris had driven her here. It was the weekly girls’ night—though that was kind of sexist. She amended the statement in her head. Weekly sub night. There were two whole guys at the party. Chris and Mistress Jackie’s sub, Harold, though he seemed to gasp at every single statement made.

“He’s kind of totally into you,” Serena said.

“He’s kind of an *,” Bridget tossed back. She also tossed back a shot of tequila. She definitely needed the alcohol. “But his sister is a great cook.”