Master No (Masters and Mercenaries, #9)(6)

“I don’t know about that.” Faith sometimes thought she was simply making up for all the crap her father pulled. Politics was a dirty business. “And it can be hard to stay na?ve out here, but I try.”

“Na?ve? Why would you want to be na?ve?”

That was an easy question and one she’d answered long ago. “Because cynics don’t change the world. Na?ve people do. Na?ve people aren’t smart enough to know that they can’t beat a disease. When wave after wave of bodies start rolling in, the na?ve idiot stands there and tries to hold the line.”

She wasn’t smart enough to cure the thing. Her sister was the research genius. Faith thought of herself as a private while Hope was a general.

Erin’s lips turned up slightly. “It really is a war. I didn’t get that until I saw it myself. You’re a good soldier, Doc.”

That was probably the highest compliment Erin could give. “Thanks, and please call me Faith.”

“I will. Besides, it looks like we’re going to be roomies for a while.”

“You seemed a bit irritated with Theo.”

“Only because he’s a high-handed asshat who really should involve me in the decision-making process,” Erin began.

“Is there trouble between the two of you?” She didn’t like the thought. She kind of liked Erin and Theo being solid. She needed a couple to aspire to.

Erin turned thoughtful. “Always, but…let’s just say I’ve learned a lot here.”

Africa could do that to a person. It was why she kept coming back. She’d learned a lot about herself, about kindness in the face of adversity. About death and life. “Is it wrong that I really want to go to Sanctum?”

“Why would it be wrong?”

She was getting maudlin. “I don’t know. I guess I’m going into it knowing it’s only a short-term relationship. I want to relax.”

“You want to have sex,” Erin corrected. “And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. Faith, there’s not a thing wrong with asking for what you need. You’re surrounded by death and misery nine months out of the year. Party the rest of the time. You deserve it. Anyone who says otherwise can bite my ass. You don’t have a relationship right now so that frees you up to do as you please. If doing some super-hot Dom pleases you, then go for it.”

She sighed. “Will he be super hot?”

“Oh, he’ll be hot. I can promise you that.”

“Might he look somewhat like your Dom?”

It seemed to take Erin a moment to understand, and then her eyes went wide. “Oh, no. No. You don’t want Case. Jeez. Case acts like a five-year-old most of the time and I swear the dude needs a maid service. No. I’ve got the perfect Dom in mind. But you should know, he’s definitely not a forever kind of guy.”

She wasn’t looking for that. She was looking for some fun, for some relaxation, and maybe an orgasm or two. “Do I get a choice?”

“Absolutely. Spend the next few weeks talking to Master T and we’ll see how it goes from there. You’re going to like it at Sanctum.” Erin stood and brushed off her cargo pants. She always dressed in a utilitarian fashion. “And Faith, you should know that I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

“What?”

“At Sanctum, I mean. Whatever happens, you’re going to be okay. See you in the morning. I’ve got a few things to sort out with my Master.” Erin strode off in the same direction Theo had walked.

And Faith made a decision. It didn’t matter. Erin was right. Her life was her own and she wasn’t going to let petty rules keep her from something she needed. Sanctum would be private. Her business wouldn’t get out in the press and embarrass her father. She would be safe to indulge, and when the time came to head to her annual birthday party in the Caymans, maybe she would have a handsome Dom on her arm.

It was only for a while. She wouldn’t get what Erin had obviously found, but that was all right, too. Not everyone found true love. She wasn’t expecting that at all. She wanted a little companionship.

Some really good sex would be amazing, too.

Mostly she wanted some peace. That was really all she could ask for.





Tennessee Smith sat in the cool conference room and stared at the file. Faith. What a f*cking joke. Hank McDonald had named his daughters Faith and Hope. Very likely the bastard thought having daughters named after virtues helped him with the voting public. It certainly hadn’t been because the man placed any value at all in either word.

Two sisters. One was polished and perfect looking. In the photo he held, Hope McDonald was dressed in a tailored Chanel suit. Everything from her hair to her manicured nails, right down to the heels she wore screamed money and power. In the shot he had of Faith, she looked weary. No makeup, scrubs, her hair frazzled like it hadn’t seen conditioner in a few days. But the light hit her skin making it luminous. Her eyes seemed to stare out as though asking for something from him.

What did she need?

“So I dug up some interesting information on Hope McDonald.” Michael Malone passed him a file folder from across the table.

“You dug it up?” Hutch huffed and rolled his eyes.

“Well, I compiled it and did the actual analysis. You just gave me a bunch of websites to click on, and I’m pretty sure one of them infected my laptop.”