Servicing the Target (Masters of the Shadowlands #10)(40)

His gaze held the delight of a man getting a tasty treat as well as the pleasure that she’d thought of him when others were grabbing their food. “Thank you, Mistress.” Before he took a bite, he paused. “Did you get some?”

“I know better. I’ve had Kari’s brownies before. If I ate one, I’d have to run an extra mile tomorrow morning.”

His eyes glinted golden. “I could be of service in working off calories.”

Well, she knew that for a fact. And the desire to burn a few calories with him was growing overwhelming. “Well, in that case, maybe I should indulge.” She leaned forward, letting her breast brush against his face as she grasped his wrist and pulled his brownie to her lips. She took a small bite.

“Oh, now, Ma’am, you know I’m good for more calories than that,” he murmured.

She choked.

Her cell rang. Saved by the bell. She checked the display and answered. “This is Anne. What’s up?”

“We have a pickup for you, if you have time,” Loretta said. “Do you remember Jane? However, she sounds nearly hysterical. You probably should take some backup.”

After getting the location, Anne frowned down at her phone. Dammit, Jane. Why’d you go back to that *?

A big hand closed over hers. “Problem?” Ben studied her, eyes concerned.

“I’m afraid so. I need to give someone a ride.” But both her brothers were working today, and she didn’t have any trained female friends she’d feel comfortable risking in a possibly dangerous situation.

“Just a ride wouldn’t make you so worried. Can I help?”

“I…” Could he? He was ex-military. And Z did extensive background checks on anyone setting foot in his Shadowlands, so he’d be safe. Even better, as a guard in a BDSM club, he’d have seen and dealt with emotional meltdowns. “If you don’t mind leaving now, I’d love some help.”

“If Bronx can come too, I’m in.”





Anne was delivering a woman to a battered women’s shelter? The woman had more facets than a diamond. Ben stared at her as she drove her Ford Escape to the designated pickup area. “Why aren’t the cops providing transportation for the woman?”

“They do sometimes. But all too often, a woman won’t call the police, so the shelter calls in volunteers.”

“If a man has hit his wife, what keeps him from attacking a driver?”

She smiled. “It’s not as dangerous as it sounds. We don’t meet women at their work or houses, and we only do pickups from public areas.”

Still didn’t sound particularly safe. Ben sat back. At least he was here. “Do you know who we’re fetching?”

“Actually, I do. Jane and her daughter, Paige, stayed at the shelter for a while, but when her husband agreed to counseling, she went back to him.” She scowled.

“You don’t approve of a guy getting a second chance?”

“Well, sometimes an abuser is shocked at his actions and realizes he’s got a problem. He’s the type that can learn.” Her lips tightened. “I met Jane’s husband. He’s a manipulative bastard and sure not interested in amending his behavior. He used every trick in the book to get her to return to him.”

Considering Anne’s experience as a Domme, she had probably read him correctly. He sounded like a real bastard. “So she loved him and went back.”

“Uh-uh. I think the love is long gone. I’d say she was afraid of being on her own and of having to turn her life upside-down. Of how much she’d have to change.” Anne’s fingers clenched and loosened on the steering wheel.

She’d spat that word out—change—as if it had a foul taste. Interesting.

“This is the place.” Anne drove through a mall parking lot, pulled over to the curb in front of a department store, and turned the parking lights on. She jumped out.

Ben hand-signaled Bronx to stay put and joined her on the sidewalk. “Where do you want me?”

“Can you wait by the car?” Her lips curved. “You can be a scary lad at times.”

Ben winced. Although he’d come to enjoy being a big guy, he didn’t like that his face could terrify children.

She noticed and ran her hand up his arm. “It so happens that I appreciate scary lads, you know,” she said in her husky voice.

When she looked at him as if he were a delectable treat, his ego expanded to fill all of Pinellas County. He cleared his throat. “I’ll wait here.” Unless there was a problem…then all bets were off.

She strode briskly into the store, and he’d known her long enough to read the tension in her body and the way she was alert to the people nearby. She’d tried to act as if the pickups weren’t dangerous, but she was obviously ready for action.

A minute later, she walked out, her arm around a woman’s waist, supporting her.

Jesus.

The limping woman had a black eye and a golf-ball-sized swelling on her cheek. A fat lip. Her stiff torso indicated her ribs were bruised or busted.

Anger roused and lifted its ugly head.

He took a step forward, then saw a young girl trailing after Anne. She couldn’t be more than twelve. Tears streaked her dirty cheeks.

Ben throttled his rage back. She’d seen enough violence. Trying to look harmless, he opened the back seat door and stepped away.