Edge of the Enforcer

by Cherise Sinclair

  He caressed her cheek. “Relaxed, not worrying about things you can’t prevent, well pleasured. Yeah, better.”

  Oh. She sighed. “Well, if your plan was to drive me out of my mind, it worked.”

  His smile made her glow inside. Damn, she loved him.

  “Now, tell me how you felt watching me with Dixon.”

  Dixon. She turned her head, looking for her friend—Zander was right between her and the room.

  The amusement in his gaze said it was deliberate. “Asked you a question, babe.”

  How did I feel about watching? When she hesitated, he curled his hand around her nape, sending shivers down her spine at the heat of his hand—at the power of his grip. “I’ll ask again in a few days after you’ve had time to process everything. Give me your gut feelings now.”

  “I—it was weird because he’s a friend. And he likes you—likes you.” His gaze never left her face as she searched for the right words. “But after a bit, friendship and attraction didn’t seem to matter. You weren’t interested in him sexually. All your focus was on taking him where you wanted him to go. And watching you…kind of…sucked me in.” She bit her lip.

  His dimple appeared a second before he pulled her forward and kissed her. Sweet and powerful and possessive. “I love you, Tex,” he whispered.

  Oh jeez. She rubbed her cheek on his and inhaled through her nose. “D-don’t be nice now. I’ll cry.”

  He snorted. “Babe, when this shit is over, we’re going to talk about the future.” Before she could respond, he set a bottle of water in her hand. “Drink up. All of it.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She took a sip, felt the upheaval in her emotions settle, leaving her feeling as if she’d sucked down a couple of shots of rum mixed with liquor of hope. She smiled at him. “And I love you too.”

  “Good deal.” He rose, watched her take another drink, and went to clean up the equipment.

  Letting out a long sigh, she sagged against the wall. Darned if every nerve in her body wasn’t still glowing with satiation. Mmmhmm, that was a nice time. And now, with Zander out of the way, she spotted Dixon off to one side, bending over.

  Sometime while she and Zander had been busy, Stan had unchained Dixon and instead, hooked his wrist cuffs to a wide leather belt. He’d also put a play collar around Dixon’s neck. Clasping the collar, the Dom had bent him over and was inserting a well-lubed anal plug—not cruelly, not particularly gently either.

  Lindsey’s newly tender asshole puckered in sympathy.

  When Stan directed Dixon back upright, she saw her poor friend’s balls were wrapped in a leather harness with a testicle stretcher and divider and a cock ring as well. Looked painful as all get-out.

  After inserting the anal plug, the Dom snapped a leash onto Dixon’s collar. He didn’t even look back at Dixon as he tugged him through the room.

  Zander squatted down beside her, his gaze on the two men as well. “You’re frowning.”

  “The agent doesn’t seem to be very nice.”

  “Nice isn’t what Dixon needs.” Zander tugged her hair lightly. “The boy won’t submit without some work. Erotic control is a straightforward path there.”

  “Stan isn’t even paying attention to him.”

  Zander snorted. “You notice the mirrors?”

  “Huh?” Lindsey blinked and looked around. Son of a gun, small mirrors were embedded in the rocks here and there…and she saw Stan was checking them without Dixon even realizing.

  “The boy’s got a bad habit of using his pretty face to get his way. A Dom who wants more than a quick fuck won’t tolerate that kind of behavior.”

  “Oh.” She pursed her lips. “And how many sneaky Dom-manipulative tricks have you used on me? What are my lessons?”

  To her surprise, he didn’t shrug off the question. “We’re starting with the basics. Trust. Honesty. Transparency.” He ran his finger over her lower lip and added, “Remember, little Tex, a Dom’s got lessons too. You’re not the only one learning to trust.”

  Oh. The sweep of sweetness took her by surprise. “God, I love you. I really, really do.”

  “Well.” He tapped her nose. “For that, you get chocolate.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The next day, Lindsey stepped out of the cabin into a quiet realm filled with glittering falling snow. The untouched white powder carpeted the ground, making the world seem fresh and clean. The air was so cold, her lungs seemed to clench.

  After a long stretch, she started down the path to the main cabin. Heck of a night, last night. First the dungeon party, afterward the hot tub.

  She still had tender spots—especially her bottom. However, poor Dixon might be even worse off.

  Before they’d left the dungeon, Stan had removed all the various devices from Dixon’s body and blindfolded him, stood him in the middle of the room while he went to the fridge. He’d brought back an icy ridged dildo, bent Dixon over, and shoved it up his ass. Dixon had come, screaming as if he was being murdered.

  It was a wonder he hadn’t had a heart attack.

  After slapping his ass, Stan had hugged him lightly and said the scene was over. “You can join me in the hot tub if you want, boy.” Dixon had spent the entire time staring at the Dom, undoubtedly trying to understand why the man hadn’t even tried to get off. Stan had retired soon afterward, leaving Dixon looking confused—and forlorn.

  Poor Dix.

  While Lindsey walked, snowflakes tickled her cheeks and hung on her eyelashes. From the looks of it, snow had been falling all morning. And she’d sure slept late, which was Zander’s fault. He’d worn her out.

  Around dawn, he’d noticed her new virginal-slut nightgown and woken her up to show his energetic appreciation. God. Three orgasms later… When he finished, he’d gotten dressed, leaving her facedown and boneless in the bed.

  As she crossed the clearing to the lodge, the door opened. Jake, one bare foot raised, supported by Simon and Zander, hopped out. “Morning, Lindsey.”

  “What happened? Are you okay?”

  “I slipped on a fuc—ah, a rock when I was checking the hot tub.”

  She frowned at his very swollen, purpling ankle. “Is it broken?”

  “Probably not,” Simon said. “We’ll get it X-rayed to be sure.”

  “We’re hauling his ass to the clinic in town,” Zander said before his jaw hardened. “I’m keeping Simon’s car and stopping at the police station after. Seems Stanfeld took off to talk with Masterson.”

  “Hokay.” Sounded like Stan was going to get a teamwork lecture. Lindsey smiled, amazed at how the mere sight of Zander lifted her heart. Well, aside from the fact a bulky jacket made him look as if he could wrestle grizzly bears. Be still my heart. “Y’all drive safe, okay?”

  Jake nodded. Simon winked at her. Zander gave her a macho man snort.

  Right. How could she forget that alpha male Enforcers simply laughed at snow?

  After watching them navigate the slick ground, she crossed the porch and read the sign posted on the lodge door. LUNCH WILL BE LATE TODAY. BECCA.

  Inside, the main room was quiet, with only Logan present. He was sweeping the fireplace hearth, treating the sleeping dog as if Thor were a piece of furniture. “Morning, sugar.”

  “Good morning to you. Is Becca around?”

  “Nope.” He nodded at the snow plastering the glass window. “It’s getting nasty out there. When the blizzard really hits, we might get over a foot of snow, so Becca drove into town for groceries. She and Ansel should be back soon.”

  “Kallie?”

  “At the Masterson place. Her cousins haven’t returned from a guide trip, so she’s over there feeding the livestock. Rona and Dixon went along with her to visit Summer.”

  “Oh. Right.” Rona had invited her, but Lindsey didn’t know Summer very well. Sometimes old friends needed time to catch up on gossip. “I guess the place is pretty empty. Did your other guests flee in the face of the storm?”

  “We’re emptying out. One man a
nd an older couple left early—they didn’t want to chance the road closing. Stanfeld’ll be here another day. He went into town to talk with Virgil Masterson. Got one cabin rented out through Sunday, but I haven’t seen him this morning. Don’t know if he’ll stay or not.”

  “Since you’ve been abandoned by your staff, is there anything I can do to help?”

  His rare smile was her reward. “If you’d answer the phone while I clean and restock a couple of cabins, I’d appreciate it. Be about an hour or so.”

  “Let me grab a cup of coffee, and I’m your girl.”

  Time went by in a lovely quiet as she drank her coffee and flipped through old Field & Stream magazines. Outside the lodge, the wind picked up, spattering the windows with snow, covering the world in white. With a sigh, she leaned back in the comfortable chair.

  She’d had a harsh few months, but now peace wrapped around her like the warmth from the crackling fire. There was an end in sight. Someday soon, she might have her life back.

  Or a better life, even.

  He loves me. Smiling, she said it aloud, just to hear the unbelievable words. “He loves me.” She’d never dreamed to hope for that—not with Zander.

  Every time she remembered the determination in his voice as he’d argued to keep her from being “used,” her insides fluttered as if she’d swallowed butterflies.

  God, she loved him so much her poor heart hurt. She’d sure never felt this way about either of her husbands. She’d thought she loved them. Had thought they were friends. Had enjoyed the sex. But her feelings for them hadn’t made her shiver and hurt and…yearn.

  Looking into the future, she knew—knew—she wanted Zander beside her forever. Even if they were dumped in wheelchairs in a nursing home, she’d still reach for his hand—and giggle when he growled at a nurse. Which he would so totally do.

  And hey, he’d need her there to keep him from getting his aged bony butt tossed out, right? Really, with his unsociable manners, he needed her far more than she needed him. It was her…duty…to love him and cherish him and keep him out of trouble.

  And wear slutty-virginal nightgowns to tempt him, and to tease him, and to—her eyes burned—to love him so, so well he’d never remember that his mother hadn’t.

  “My mama will like you, Zander,” she whispered. After she got past how scary he could be. She bit her lip at the surge of longing. Never before had she not been home for Christmas with her family.

  Hearing the stomping of boots on the porch, she scrubbed her face with her hands and sat up straight.

  A man entered and stopped to brush snow off his head and shoulders. His hair was black, eyes dark under heavy eyebrows. Thick stubble blackened his cheeks and jaw. “Good morning. You are the receptionist?”

  “I’m filling in for a bit. Can I help you?”

  “Possibly. I have a question for one of the staff—I’m in Cabin Five. Is anyone around?” He had a slight Spanish accent.

  “Becca will return from town soon. Logan’s cleaning cabins.”

  “Guess it’s just you and me?”

  She stiffened at the assessing look. “Logan should be back any minute.”

  “I only need a minute…Lindsey.” With an ugly sneer, he moved closer. “Chief Parnell has Mrs. Hunt and her baby. You come with me quietly, or he slits the brat’s throat.”

  Becca and Ansel? Lindsey’s lungs felt as if he’d stomped on her ribs; she struggled to inhale. “No. Y’all wouldn’t dare.”

  The indifference in his expression showed he could care less if a baby died.

  She shoved her chair away from the desk. Could she reach her knife before he grabbed her? “I don’t believe you.”

  He took a satellite phone from under his coat and punched in a number. “Need proof of life. Let’s hear it.” A second later he held the phone toward her.

  Becca was yelling, “Don’t—don’t touch him. Don’t you—”

  The sound of a baby crying drowned out everything.

  “No! Stop!” Lindsey jumped to her feet. “Don’t hurt them. I’ll go with you. Stop it!”

  “Now wasn’t that easy?” As he tucked the phone inside his coat, she saw he had a pistol as well. “Move fast, puta. If Hunt stops us, I’ll put a bullet in his head, and we’ll have a mess.”

  * * * *

  Jake Hunt made a piss-poor patient, deVries thought, but at least the man’s ankle wasn’t busted. After helping Hunt into the lodge truck, which Simon was driving, deVries continued down the slick boardwalk and into the Bear Flat police station.

  Small place. Desks around the walls. A table in the center served as an intake area. Damn quiet for a cop station. Seated at one of the desks was a uniformed officer who looked barely old enough to shave. “Can I help you?”

  “Masterson here?”

  The boy stiffened. “Lieutenant Masterson is in his office. Give me your name, and I’ll—”

  “I see him.” Spotting the glass-fronted room with a LIEUTENANT placard, deVries headed in, leaving the pup gaping behind him.

  In the office, Masterson was seated behind an oversize desk while Stanfeld and another man sat at a table off to one side. Masterson looked up from the paper he was studying. “DeVries. Didn’t think I’d see you in town today.”

  “Unscheduled trip—we took Jake to the clinic for a sprained ankle.” He ran a hand through his hair, still damp from the snow. “Kallie wants him at your place for a couple of nights. Guess she figures having Summer on hand might help.” Masterson’s wife was a registered nurse.

  “Sprained, huh? Bet he’s in a shit mood.” Masterson snorted. “You need assistance transporting him?”

  “Nah. Simon is delivering him. I stayed to talk with you and Stanfeld.” DeVries gave the Homeland Security agent a cold stare and colder warning. “You make any plans about Lindsey, you make me part of them.”

  Stanfeld frowned. “I can see how—”

  Much like a wolf when faced with another male, the other man in the room rose to his feet. Six-one, muscular build, white shirt, badge on his belt, shoulder harness for his pistol. Dark brown hair reached his collar. Trim goatee. Hard blue eyes in a tanned face. “I don’t recall being introduced.”

  Interfering bastard. “DeVries. Lindsey’s mine.” He didn’t bother holding out his hand to shake.

  The cop snorted. “You’re clear enough.” He did hold out his hand. “Atticus Ware. Detective.”

  Ware’s handshake was strong, and he didn’t resort to using it for a pissing contest. The cop might be likeable if he refrained from being an obstacle. “I prefer being clear.”

  “I haven’t met your lady,” Ware said. “A Texan?”

  DeVries nodded.

  “Bet she’s enjoying the snow.”

  Masterson grinned. “Coming from Idaho, Ware doesn’t panic at a few snowflakes—unlike the new grad we had from San Diego.”

  San Diego. Palm trees. DeVries snorted at the vision of a southern California cop in a blizzard.

  “After the fourth time we towed his patrol car out of a ditch, we sent him home,” said Ware.

  Stanfeld shook his head. “If you ladies are finished chatting, we might move on?”

  Ware resumed his seat.

  Now what would have dragged an Idaho cop to California? Odd.

  As deVries leaned against the wall, Stanfeld told him, “I came in to talk with the local law enforcement about luring Parnell and Ricks here, where there are limited ways in.”

  “And fewer people to fuck things up,” deVries said.

  “Exactly.” Stanfeld nodded. “I know you don’t want Lindsey as bait, but—”

  The phone on the desk rang.

  “Lieutenant Masterson.” Virgil listened and glanced at deVries. “You seen Lindsey here?”

  DeVries straightened. “No. Why?”

  Masterson’s jaw hardened. “We’ll check around town. What’s she driving?”

  He hung up and looked at the others. “She’d told Logan she’d answer the desk phone wh
ile he cleaned cabins. He came back, and she wasn’t there. Her car’s gone.”

  “Maybe she went to join Rona and Dixon,” Stanfeld said.

  DeVries’s gut clenched. “If she said she’d watch something, she wouldn’t leave until relieved. She’s solid like that.”

  Masterson was on the phone to his wife. Seconds later, he hung up. “No Lindsey. And Summer says it’s getting to be a whiteout up there.”

  “That’s bad,” Ware said to deVries. “What are the chances your coyotes have already grabbed the bait?”

  He answered Ware through a dry throat. “Too fucking good.”

  * * * *

  The snow was falling so thickly the forest looked as if it were draped in gauze. The car fishtailed with every corner, almost sending them over the side of the mountain. By the time Parnell’s hireling turned off onto a barely visible road, Lindsey’s jaw was clenched to an aching tightness.

  And she was freezing. The man had shoved her out the door, not letting her get her jacket. Shivers racked her body as her old car finally started to put out some heat.

  The car hit a patch of ice and slid toward a tree as the man frantically fought to regain control.

  “You’ve never driven in snow, have you?” she said, forcing the words out.

  “Shut up.”

  Biting her lip, she worked her fingers. Even though she’d accompanied him without fighting, the man had tied her wrists together in front of her so tightly her fingers were half numb. Still, she needed to be able to move when—if—rescue came. It must come.

  Logan would finish his chores eventually and notice she was missing or realize Becca was late. But how soon would they begin to search? And could rescuers even find them in the storm? When the man had seen her cell phone attached to the car charger, he’d thrown it out the window to remove any chance of tracking the GPS.

  No one would arrive in time—if anyone arrived at all.

  As her breathing sped up, she bit down on her tongue sharply. No panicking. She had to believe Zander and the men had a chance of finding her and Becca and the baby.

  Oh God, I’m scared.

  Her fingernails dug into her thighs. Parnell would hurt her. Kill her. Hurt Ansel.