My Addiction (Club Desire #2)(70)

The sound of something repeatedly hitting flesh echoed down the hallway. From the distinctive thud, it wasn’t a flogger, which made him fear for the worst possible scenarios.

“You deserve every mark this leaves, bitch! No f*cking sub tells me what to do.”

The angry words echoed down the hallway, and Dex put on another burst of speed as urgency stampeded through his body.

When he came closer, he had to blink against the sudden brightness that illuminated the play area. He skidded to a stop and absorbed every detail before he registered the rage burning through him. He would analyze details later. Now, he let instinct kick in.

A few steps, and he reached the son of a bitch. Dex ripped the Dom, Frank, away from the whimpering sub.

He used a wrist lock to make Frank drop the Lexan, a hard plastic cane, he’d been about to hit the woman with again. Frank howled, rage darkening his face. His body shook with either anger or pure adrenaline as he rounded on Dex, who had at least six inches on him in height and a good fifty pounds of muscle. Frank’s curses and threats flowed past Dex without much recognition. He would remember them later, but for now, he had to concentrate on the situation at hand.

He blocked a swing headed toward his face and took Frank down to the carpeted floor with a little more force than necessary. He pinned him in a way that would leave bruises and cause pain, but not anywhere near the amount Frank had inflicted on the shivering submissive tied too tightly to the St. Andrew’s Cross.

Dex’s skin chilled as he recognized Min, her back, ass, and thighs covered with harsh red marks that were already bruising in angry purple splotches. He tightened his hold on the man, but still allowed the vermin to draw small gasps of air. Which was more than he deserved.

Dex knew Frank was most likely riding an endorphin high, but there was never a reason to mistreat a sub.

Ever.

Min had subbed for Dex on a number of occasions, so he knew her preferences well. She’d had a hard limit about canes for as long as he had known her. He’d noted the ball gag immediately—another of her hard limits—which explained why Dex hadn’t heard screaming or cursing.

A red ribbon lay on the floor to the side of the St. Andrew’s Cross, where Min had obviously dropped it to signal a stop to all play. When a gag of any type was employed in a scene in Club Desire, a ribbon or scarf was mandatory so the sub could drop it in lieu of saying his or her safe word.

The sound of Min’s whimpers and Frank’s struggles, guttural protests, and labored breathing were loud as Dex waited for Jake to arrive.

The rush of his own blood, as it stormed through his veins in time with his anger, screamed inside his head.

He fought against the burning in his stomach and the adrenaline surging through him telling him to snap the man’s neck, or crush his windpipe. He shook his head and blew out a long breath. That was the rage talking, and he wouldn’t let it control him.

As an FBI agent, he had sworn to uphold the Constitution and the laws of the land, and that precluded killing or even seriously maiming the man struggling in his hold, no matter what Frank had done.

Dex would turn him over to the authorities, take care of Min, and give in to a slight bit of his thirst for revenge by letting Frank’s crimes be known. The fetish community didn’t treat kindly those who abused submissives, and they tended to take care of their own.

Frank would likely spend some time in jail for this. Convicts often decided abusive offenders needed to be victimized in a similar way, and the hardened felons enjoyed being the ones to carry out that karma on the new prisoners.

A bit vindictive, Dex admitted, but better than his damaging or killing the man right here. He squeezed just a bit harder. The pain-filled squeak that followed was especially satisfying.

“Dex.” Brent’s gently spoken word reached through the haze of emotions and brought Dex back to sanity better than any cold bucket of water tossed over him would.

“We’ve got him.” Brent laid his hand on Dex’s shoulder. “Take care of Min.”

Dex glanced behind him to see Brent, Jake, and an off-duty Phoenix PD officer named Doonan. Dex slowly released Frank and allowed him to struggle to his feet before totally relinquishing his hold.

Frank bolted down the hallway, but Dex knew the others could take care of him. The three men behind him ran after the dickless wonder, who continued to curse and yell. Within seconds there was a hard thump and a howl, accompanied by scuffling noises and grunts that sounded like they were caused by pain. Dex tried not to enjoy what he heard, but found he couldn’t be that charitable.

He turned to see Min, naked and shivering, tied tightly to the St. Andrew’s Cross, her wrists and ankles red and bruised, as well as the rest of her. Seeing her this way was like taking a knife to the gut. He clenched his fists against the urge to join the others.

He stepped closer to Min and noticed how she flinched and whimpered, the ball gag in her mouth making few other sounds possible. He didn’t know if she could even hear him at this point, but he would try to reach her. Her body shook, and she hung limp against her bonds. Shock had already set in.

“Min, it’s Master Dex. It’s all right. You’re safe now.” As gently as he could, he wrapped his arms around her, trying to avoid the red, swollen stripes on her back and shoulders. Her whimpers slowed and her head lolled.

Min had been more than a sub to Dex over the last few years. She had become a good friend. There were no romantic feelings beyond that on either side, but he cared for her.