Servicing the Target (Masters of the Shadowlands #10)(121)

With his effortless charm, Z acknowledged the introductions before moving right into the reason for the visit. “Our apologies for the interruption, Anne, but we wanted to determine that you were unharmed, to report on your belligerent visitors, and to interfere with your future.”

Kitten held in one arm, Travis took a step forward. “Are the *s still in jail?”

Z’s smile went thin. “The man’s wife had already filed a complaint of domestic violence. Add last night with armed breakin, assault and battery with a deadly weapon—he and his cohorts won’t see freedom any time soon.”

“Excellent,” Anne said. Nonetheless, she and Ben would install a security system.

“My turn.” Cullen’s repentant gaze met hers. “You’re one of the finest we have—and we’ve been friends for years. I f*cked up, and all I can do is hope you’ll take pity on me and forgive me.”

Oh honestly. An exasperated laugh escaped. Trust Cullen to tackle an apology right out in front of everyone. “Of course, I forgive you. I overreacted as well.”

Cullen’s deep laugh boomed out. “You did, love, but I lit the match. I’m sorry, Anne.” He rubbed a bruise on his jaw. “Ben made it clear I was out of line.”

Ben had punched his oldest friend in the Shadowlands? At Anne’s startled glance, he shrugged, totally unconcerned.

Yes, he really had.

“I told you he was more your guard dog than mine,” Z said quietly.

What had she taken on? But all she felt was delight that her child would have such a marvelous protector—much as her father and brothers had been for her.

However, Ben was a man who could and would step back and let his baby fly when the time came. She squeezed his hand and watched his smile warm.

“Still friends?” Cullen asked her softly, holding his arms out.

“Oh fine.” She took the step forward and hugged him.

He gave a huge sigh of relief. “I really am sorry, Anne.”

“You really are forgiven.”

“Told you she had more fun going on than we knew about,” she heard Travis tell Harrison.

Ben had joined Z and was saying he planned to quit. “I know you prefer your staff to be”—he saw her family was in earshot—“focused only on the job.” Because Z preferred vanilla guards.

But Ben enjoyed being the club’s security guard. Anne moved forward to interrupt.

“Anne,” Cullen said. “Z and I will get out of your hair. And we’ll see you this weekend.” He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her an unyielding stare.

She could go back to the Shadowlands, she realized. Go to her other home. Her vision went blurry with tears.

“No, no, don’t do that, sweetie. Damn.” Cullen yanked her in his arms again. “You’re breaking my heart here.”

Stupid, stupid hormones.

But leaving the Shadowlands had hurt. It really had.

He tipped her face up and used his thumbs to wipe the tears from her face, and his obvious dismay mended the aching wound in her soul.

She pulled in a breath. “I’m fine. Be off with you—and I’ll see you next weekend.”

“That-a-girl.” He grinned at her warning growl. After nodding to her family and giving Ben a chin lift, he asked, “Ready to go, Z?”

Z didn’t answer, his gaze on Anne. With narrowed eyes, he was studying her like a Dom, like a Master of Masters, taking in the dampness of her cheeks, how her hand had settled on her low belly, her shirt that was a bit tighter because of her fuller breasts.

After a second, his dark gray eyes warmed. He’d figured it out.

But, with his usual tact, he simply returned to his conversation. “Benjamin, I think you’ll find yourself…busier …in the future. I’ll increase Ghost’s hours and leave it up to the two of you how you wish to cover the position.”

Ben nodded. “Works for me. For us both.”

Anne exchanged a glance with him, smiling, as she remembered the last time they’d scened together at the club. How hot it had been. Now they could continue. After all, Kari and Dan had a child and still enjoyed an occasional night at the Shadowlands for kink and loving.

Z turned and touched her cheek lightly. “Anne.” He said nothing more, but somehow managed to convey his affection and concern—and approval.

After smiling at Ben, he joined Cullen and they headed off the deck.

“Who were they?” her father was asking her mother. “And why did—”

Galen moved forward. “My turn.”

“Turn for what?” Anne regarded him.

Black hair, black eyes, olive complexion. He hadn’t lost any of his intensity when he’d gone from being an FBI special agent to owning his own company. Maybe because his organization specialized in finding missing things—children, documents, people, secrets. Sally, the wife and submissive he shared with his partner Vance, adored tracking down money.

“His turn to talk to you,” Dan explained with a scowl. “He won the toss. He gets to go first.”

“Oh, well, of course.” Seriously, how did men function with all that testosterone tripping them up?

Galen nodded to the empty table on the other side of the deck, distant enough that her family couldn’t eavesdrop without being too obvious.