Have Gun, Will Travel (The Bare Bones MC #5)(30)
He seemed pleased by my observation. “That’s the general idea. All right, how about ‘postulant’ for our safe word?”
My mouth opened before my cheeks colored. I must’ve looked a stupid sight standing there like a damned child, my tangled auburn hair all mussed, my butt burning bright red, and Sax teasing me like I was born yesterday. “Postulant?” I managed to utter. “What made you think of—”
He squeezed my ass, but it was much gentler, more affectionate, and his hand didn’t linger. “I suspected about as much about you, Sister Colette. You thought you could hide a thing like that? We’ll discuss it later. Right now I’ve got to get back out, find out what’s going on with Brenda. But I’m glad to see you’re not wearing that stupid collar. You deserve a much better one. One with a much better intent behind it.”
What did he mean? My hand went to my throat. “Oh, that? It just fell off. The buckle broke.”
He grinned. “It was symbolic. Meant to be. Now, I’ll tell you something that would please me very much. Would you like to please me?”
It was embarrassing, how eagerly I reacted. “Oh, yes, very much! What would you like?”
“I’d like it if you’d call that twatwaffle fake ‘Sir’ of yours and tell him it’s over between you. Makes me uncomfortable, sharing you with someone else. Also makes me uncomfortable the way he beats you. That’s not true S and M. That’s plain old sadism, unleashed, with no holds barred. I’ll teach you the real thing. See what we’re doing here? I didn’t just dump you and leave you on the floor. It’s called ‘aftercare.’ And you probably need a sugary drink.” He was so supremely confident that I would just dump Roscoe without so much as a bye your leave!
“Well, I’d have to have a face-to-face conversation with him about it.”
“Not going to happen. Not until Tormenta is found. Just give him an ol’ heads up about your intentions over the phone. Until then, you’re staying either here with June, or in P and E with Maddy.”
“Whichever one’s closest to you.” Again, I was falling all over myself to be with him, to please him! I needed to slap myself. Too bad my former order didn’t stress self-flagellation, for that’s what I felt I needed. “I heard you were buying some guy’s rock shop in P and E, down on Bargain Boulevard. You plan on hanging around here awhile?”
Now I had caught him unawares. It was nice to see him squirm, for once. He cleared his throat and frowned at me. “Maybe. You just call that so-called ‘Master’ of yours and we’ll see how things go.”
And he left the room.
Why should I break things off with Roscoe when Sax wasn’t offering me any hope of stability? He said I needed a better collar. Did that mean he intended on buying me one? Here was a guy who rode around the States for a living. Literally a nomad, he drove from show to show selling his gems. Just because he’d purchased a shop in Pure and Easy didn’t mean he intended to stick around! I hadn’t even gotten a chance to tell Sax what I’d done at the nail salon.
I knew Spanish from the abbey. Aside from Latin, it was one of their standard languages. Of course I didn’t have time to get an actual manicure, but I’d made appointments for both Maddy and myself. I had boldly made an assertion to Carla Madrona, the matron who ran the place. Slyly, I told her, “Le diré a Tony Tormenta que hiciste un buen trabajo.” I’ll tell Tony Tormenta what a good job you did.
Carla Madrona had turned as white as Santiago Slayer’s vinyl belt. “Mi Dios. Te ha enviado?” My God. Has he sent you?
I’d smiled enigmatically, and left then. I was already late for dinner at Lytton’s. But I’d felt I’d gained a confirmation of what Sax suspected. And yeah, there were slimy foot spas, people reusing tools on different customers, workers dropping things, then putting them back unsanitized.
I wandered toward the back deck, where everyone seemed to be conglomerated, but I stopped short of opening the sliding glass door. Sax wanted me to break it off with Roscoe. I was certainly willing to, but only if I knew Sax could provide me with more assurance. I knew he had submissives in every town. Brenda had told me. I may not have much self-esteem after the life I’d led—certainly giving up all your worldly possessions and wearing a habit didn’t lend itself to a giant ego—but I knew enough of the secular world to know one didn’t make rash decisions based on a lot of air, such as Sax was offering me.
But there was a voicemail from Roscoe! He’d finally called me back after over a week. “Hey, Slave. Got your texts and voicemails. You don’t need to leave me so many—I know you’re into me. Listen, I’m going to be doing a different scene for another week. Some relatives are coming into town from out of state. So don’t call me, I’ll call you, all right? Bye.”
That was it. “Bye.” I wound up staring at the phone as though the instrument itself had offended me. Roscoe had always spoken brusquely to me like that. If a Dom couldn’t speak that way, who could, right?
So I was about to saunter out onto the back deck when I saw June’s face collapse. She clapped her palms to her face and moaned an unearthly sound. Lytton was talking to her, his phone in his hand. I froze in place. June fled for the slider, slamming it open so hard it banged loudly.
“June!” I reached out to grab her arm as she ran past. “What happened?”