Servicing the Target (Masters of the Shadowlands #10)(113)

“We’ve had this talk before.” Anne was through with his crap. “Go home to Mom. Maybe she enjoys being treated like a precious figurine that will break if you look at it too roughly—although I’d say she’s stronger than you give her credit for.”

When she heard Ben’s rumbled laugh, Anne glanced his way. He was looking at the kitchen—where her mother stood, hands on hips, staring at her oblivious husband.

“You don’t understand,” her father protested, his back to the kitchen.

“Oh, I do, all too well. My parents raised me to be strong and competent. Deadly, even. It’s a shame my father still thinks his thirty-five-year-old daughter belongs in a playpen.” She waved her hand at the good ol’ boys littering her living room. “Three of those on the ground are mine.”

Her father didn’t move. He just stood there, looking more unsettled than she’d ever seen him. “I’m sorry, Anne.”

An apology? The surprise held her in place. He looked…sad.

Her heart urged her to tell him it was all okay. But it wasn’t. And she rather doubted that his beliefs had really changed. Firming her resolve, she stepped into a Domme mindset. He might be hurting, but remorse was an excellent learning tool. “For what are you sorry? Exactly?”

“I never meant for you to feel less valued. I love you, Anne. Love you fully as much as the boys.” The lines on his face deepened. “But, baby, I can’t stand you doing something that might get you hurt. Killed.”

Before Anne could throw him out of her house, a delicate growl came from the kitchen.

He turned.

Her mother stalked forward. She punched her beloved husband in the stomach fiercely enough to make him grunt.

Anne’s mouth dropped open.

“You hypocrite,” her mother actually shouted. “When I objected to Travis and Harrison playing football, taking karate, and enlisting, you said, ‘Suck it up, Elaine. Be tough.’ You said a good parent let her children fly from the nest and cheered them on, wherever their hearts led them. You told me I was a coward.”

“But…But—”

“Who’s the coward here?” Her mother punched him again—even harder.

Near the door, Travis was laughing his fool head off.

With hand over mouth, Ben was muffling his amusement in deference to her father.

“Elaine,” her father protested.

Her pint-sized mom ignored him and turned to give Anne a gentle hug. “What are the damages, darling?” It was the same question she’d asked her boys when they returned from sports and wars.

Anne blinked back tears. “I’m fine,” she whispered.

Her mother stepped back and frowned at the bruise on Anne’s face. “Put some ice on that, dear.” Her gaze swept over the bodies littering the floor. “Outstanding job. I always knew you could handle yourself as well as the boys.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Her mother turned. “Stephan, we’re going home now. To talk.”

He looked as if she’d invited him to his own execution.

Anne’s sense of humor finally kicked in. “Sounds good. Dad, if and when Mom forgives you, so will I.”

When he opened his mouth to object, she gave him the icy stare that had silenced submissives for years and waved her fingers toward the door. “Dismissed.”

Her mother winked at her as they left.

Anne turned to Travis.

“Jesus, sis, remind me not to piss you off. My balls just shriveled up.”

She sighed. “I really don’t want to hear my brother talking about his testicles, thank you very much.”

When Ben snorted, she smiled, then pointed at the intruders. “Can you and Travis finish securing the bad guys while I jump through the formalities?”

“My pleasure.”

She studied him for a minute. Strong. Brave. He didn’t need to throw his weight around to prove he had courage. He knew he did. He knew who he was and was comfortable with the knowledge.

So he could let her be who she was.

How could she do anything less?

And he’d shared his bad guy with her. Actually been delighted to share.

She had a feeling they’d be just fine sharing other things.

Like a baby.

Like a life.

The cops entered the room—one glanced around and started calling in an ambulance. The other was in the doorway, talking with Jessica.

Raoul pushed past him and into the living room.

Kim shook her head at him. “You’re late.”

He stared at the rough-looking men on the floor for a second. “Are you hurt, gatita?” He looked Kim over carefully, searching for damage.

“I’m fine.”

“Home invasion?”

“An abuser looking for the battered women’s shelter,” Kim said.

Fury darkened his expression, yet he drew her into his arms very, very gently. His gaze took in the graze on Uzuri’s jaw, checked over Jessica, then lingered on Anne’s cheek. “Are you all right?”

“Minor damage to everyone. And Kim did very well. She has an excellent punch, in fact.”

Kim beamed.

“But battles bring back…” Anne let her voice trail off, but he’d caught her meaning. The violence could well resurrect nightmares from his submissive’s past.