Servicing the Target (Masters of the Shadowlands #10)(46)

When Ben’s gaze hit hers, comprehension showed on his face as he undoubtedly recalled her typically younger, more slender slaves.

“Ben, this is my brother, Travis. Travis, Ben.”

“Good to meet you.” Travis bent to let Bronx sniff his hand and then ruffled his fur. “Great-looking dog.”

“Thanks.”

Anne walked over to put an arm around Ben, to finish easing the awkwardness her brother had created. “Ben, Travis is here to mooch leftovers since I made lasagna a couple of days ago. If you hate Italian food, I have sandwich fixings.” She pushed the basket holding the coffee pods toward him. “Pick a coffee if it’s not too late for you. Or there’s wine and beer in the fridge.”

“If you have enough, lasagna sounds fantastic.”

“I always make plenty.” She buttered the bread, adding herbs and garlic, then tucked the tray under the broiler. The lasagna went into the microwave. “Travis, aren’t you off work a little early?”

“Well, yeah. I didn’t want to miss any of the fun.” He took his cup from the machine, motioned to Ben to use it, and frowned at Anne. “Did you forget you’d planned a team exercise tonight?”

She froze. “That’s on…oh, damn. I lost track. A friend needed a rush move today. That’s where Ben and I were earlier.”

“Yeah, Mom wondered why you weren’t at Sunday dinner.” Travis looked at her over his cup. “Is your buddy all moved or do you need more help?”

And that was why she loved her brothers. Hardasses, but with good hearts. “We got her all set up.”

Ben was watching her, his gaze intent. “If you have work planned, sounds as if I need to get moving along.”

Travis looked him over slowly, eyes speculative. “You ever shot a firearm?”

“A time or two.” Ben’s voice was…odd. Anne studied him, trying to read his body language. Assurance was there, but he’d tensed as well. His face had gone unreadable, eyes shuttered. But, as a soldier, he would have not only used weapons, but also killed.

“Military?” Travis always had to push. When Ben nodded, he frowned. “You’ve been out for a while to get your hair that long.”

Ben grinned and relaxed. “’Bout five years now. You?”

“Only two. Marines.”

“Army.” Ben dumped an appalling amount of sugar into his cup and took a sip. “Do you want company tonight…Anne?” He would have used Mistress if they’d been alone.

To her, that hesitation meant he wanted her to make the decision if he should attend the team exercise. Should he?

The man wasn’t a pushover. Although other fugitive recovery agents occasionally brought along friends or girlfriends, Anne hadn’t ever taken her slaves. The other team members were overly testosteroned males. Takedowns could get a bit violent, and ex-military or not, security guard or not, Ben was as easygoing a man as she’d ever met. He might not enjoy the scenarios.

Then again, he was an adult. And a fighter. Rather than a housecat, he was more like a Siberian tiger, big and heavy—and deadly.

She’d invite him and then he could decide whether he could cut the mustard.

She smiled at him. “Most of us recovery agents are used to working alone, but recently I set up a team. The exercises improve how we work together. People take turns playing the fugitive, and we practice doing takedowns. It sometimes gets rough.”

A smile spread over his craggy face. “Sounds like fun.”

Men. Always eager for a little gratuitous violence. Then again, she enjoyed the games too. She nodded at her brother. “Your spare eye gear should fit Ben. Bring it along, please.”

“Will do.” Travis gave Ben a pleased look before smirking at her. “Glad you finally have someone worthy of his nuts.”

Jerk. Rather than rewarding him with an insult, she mused, “I think I’ll top the lasagna off with mushrooms for a good flavor.”

“No,” Travis said hurriedly. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

She gave Travis a look, and he almost whined. “Seriously, sis.” He turned. “Ben, you don’t want fungi on your lasagna, do you?”

Ben’s golden eyes gleamed with laughter. “Ma’am, although mushrooms are low on my favorite list, I’ll happily eat whatever you prepare.”

She tilted her head in acknowledgment of his well-played card—letting her know his preferences while reaffirming he’d not question her choice.

To frighten Travis, she picked up the mushrooms and heard her brother moan.

But, in recognition of Ben’s deference, she only added them to her portion of the lasagna.

His rough chuckle was her reward.





The sun was setting as Ben waited in a small, ramshackle mobile home on a heavily wooded property near Curlew Creek. Another mobile home and a shed stood in a line next to the house. Outside, his “family members” were putting up plastic fencing.

Anne had explained that each exercise was designed to simulate typical takedown scenarios, usually with the fugitive holed up with family, possibly with more relatives or friends next door. The potted plants, yard equipment, and fencing were moved around to keep the crew from becoming complacent.

It brought back fond memories of Ranger combat scenarios.