by His Slave
“I couldn’t agree more. But making her watch the mutt bleed out will leave her with no doubt of what her owner’s capable of.”
34
Not long ago, seeing Mace’s house would have jump-started her libido, but now Cheyenne would give anything not to be here. However, being locked in the backseat of a car with Mace and Bat in front left her with no choice.
Dreading what was coming, she glanced down at her bound hands, but the sense of helplessness was more than she could handle, prompting her to again stare at the back of Mace’s head. Who was this man? Certainly not who she’d once believed he was.
At least she hadn’t had to spend the night in his presence. Bat had locked her in a cell with a single bed, toilet, and sink. He’d even given her a blanket. The light had gone out as soon as he’d locked the door behind him, leaving her with a vague impression of an area consisting of a double row of cells separated by a corridor that resembled the jails and prisons she’d seen on TV. She’d heard both male and female voices, but other than giving her name when she was asked, she’d said nothing. From the overheard conversations, she gathered this was where anyone who ran afoul of Blind Spot standards was imprisoned.
Bat came for her at dawn. He’d directed her to go into a community shower, and although two men and a collared women were already in there, she’d been so grateful for the chance to clean up, she’d barely noticed them. Next had come a rough towel followed by a gray, shapeless, sleeveless dresslike garment that came to her knees. Bat had taken her back to her cell where she’d found a bowl of semiwarm oatmeal on her bed, which she’d gulped down. Shortly after, Bat had returned, tied her hands, and led her outside the Blind Spot.
Mace was waiting near the vehicle. He hadn’t acknowledged her, thank goodness, because there was nothing she wanted to say to him.
Kill Rio. How heartless could he be?
“Not bad,” Bat said, parking close to Mace’s front door. “One thing you’re going to have to get used to at the Blind Spot is lack of privacy. The powers that be are Big Brother.” Bat glanced back at her. “But there’s the trade-off.”
“Hmm,” Mace muttered. “I left him out back when Robert and Atwood gave me my marching orders. Otherwise, there’d be crap and piss all over the place.”
“I don’t hear anything,” Bat said. “Shouldn’t he be barking?”
Mace shook his head. “He doesn’t recognize the sound of this car so he’s waiting to see what’s going to happen.”
“No wonder you don’t trust him.”
But Mace did trust Rio just as the dog trusted the one human to show him kindness and love. Staring at Mace’s shoulders, she struggled to reconcile what was about to happen with the relationship she’d observed between man and animal.
“How’s this going to go down?” Bat sounded unsure.
“I owe Rio one thing, a quick, painless death.”
“How humane of you!” Cheyenne snapped. “I’m sure you won’t look into his eyes. I wish to hell you had to so you’d have to live with that the rest of your life.”
“Shut up,” Mace ordered. “You’re so dead set to see his expression, I’ll make sure you aren’t disappointed.”
That said, he got out, opened her door, unfastened her seat belt, and grabbed her arm. Praying for numbness, she got out without waiting for him to haul her. Instead of stepping back and making room for her, he remained close so she had no choice but to press her body to his side. He ran a hand down her back, ending with pressing his knuckles against her spine. Just like that she wanted him.
Hated both of them.
“What are you doing?” she muttered, unable to move.
“Getting your attention,” he whispered back and spread his fingers over her left ass cheek.
He’d done that all right, but why? Didn’t he know how much she loathed him?
“We’re going together,” Bat said as he joined them. His gaze lit on what Mace was doing, but he didn’t say anything. Reaching behind him, he pulled a pistol out of his waistband in back. “Mace, I don’t trust you.”
“You’d be a fool if you did.”
Bat frowned, then nodded and held up his pistol. “I’ve shown you mine. Time for you to do the same.”
Mace’s hand had been on her hip during the exchange. Now he pushed her away and repeated what Bat had just done. The two weapons were nearly twins of each other.
“You’ve known I was armed all along,” Mace said. “What about the others?”
“Same with them. Let’s call it part of the test they put you through. They figured that if you weren’t willing to come on board, you’d have started shooting.”
“Doesn’t sound like the smartest decision they could make.”
Bat chuckled. His expression left no doubt of his awareness of the scant inches between her and Mace. “That’s what I told them. They figured they had the bases covered when they told me to aim for your gut the moment you made a move I didn’t like.”
“Interesting.”
“Not, in my opinion, nearly as interesting as what I’m seeing right now.” Bat nodded at Mace, then at her, finally back at Mace again. “Not the kind of relationship I’ve ever seen at the Blind Spot. You want to explain?”
Both pistols hung at the men’s sides. She might be wrong but thought she sensed mutual respect between them. Instead of the revulsion she’d felt when Mace first touched her, her body started to warm. The things they’d both admitted the night they’d spent together ran through her. Mace had grown up a stranger to love. What did that make him now? What needs remained unfulfilled?
“Explain Cheyenne’s and my relationship,” Mace said. “I don’t think I have to.”
“Fuck. Whatever. Look, let’s get this over with.”
Saying nothing, Mace stepped away from her and started around the side of his house. She could run. Even barefoot, she might make it to a neighbor before Mace or Bat brought her down.
No, she couldn’t.
Shaking, she followed Mace with Bat by her side. She went numb as Mace unlashed the gate leading to Rio’s domain. Whatever was going to happen had been set in motion, and she was part of it.
“Nice,” Bat said as he reached the backyard. He now held the gun with both hands, a man ready for a four-legged ambush. “Hell of a lot of room back here. Where’s the—”
Rio stepped out of the shadows. He seemed to grin as he acknowledged first Mace and then her, but his hackles rose when he settled his gaze on Bat. “He isn’t going to attack unless I tell him to,” Mace said.
“I see.” Bat didn’t move. Cheyenne had to give him credit for not acting scared, but maybe he believed his gun evened the score. “You’ve got knives in your kitchen, right? Get one. Let’s get this over with.”
“No.”
At the single word from Mace, her world tipped. Instead of loping over to Mace for a greeting, Rio didn’t move. The instinct for survival screamed at her to watch Bat’s every move. Instead, she studied the silent interplay between Mace and his dog. They loved each other; she’d never again doubt that.
“So you were lying, weren’t you?” Bat said. He aimed his weapon at her. Despite what the pistol was capable of, it didn’t seem real to her. “I thought about telling the others I didn’t believe you.”
“Why didn’t you?” Mace’s gun remained at his side.
“Lots of reasons.”
Mace acknowledged Bat’s pistol with a nod. “I need to know what they are.”
“Yeah, I guess you do. She means as much to you as the mutt does, doesn’t she?”
“You tell me. And for the record, I know you aren’t going to fire that thing.”
Sighing, Bat lowered the pistol so it dangled from his fingers. “You read me as well as I do you, maybe better.”
“You tell me.” Still looking at Bat, Mace walked over to her and began untying her hands. “Here’s my thinking. You’re so burned out, you really don’t care how today plays out.”
“Not burn
ed out.” Bat extended the back of his free hand toward Rio. The pit took a step toward him. “Okay, that’s some of it, but keying into the relationship between you and her got me thinking about what I’ve missed.”
Maybe it was having her hands free that loosened Cheyenne’s throat. Maybe Mace’s fingers gliding over her wrists was responsible. Either way, she’d never felt more alive.
“Keying in?” she asked Bat. “What did you sense?”
“Caring. Same as what’s going on between him and his dog.” Bat smiled, drawing her attention to Rio’s tongue still washing Bat’s hand. “I thought everything had died in me, that the ability to care had been killed over the years. Guess I was wrong.” Sinking to his knees, he lay his weapon on the ground and cradled Rio’s head in his hands.
“Yeah,” Mace said and pulled her into his embrace. “You were.
“You sensed—” Bat started.
“I wasn’t sure.” Mace pressed his lips to the top of her head, and she went weak and soft. “You threw up a lot of angry crap, but I kept thinking there was more to the way you acted than being fed up with everyone telling you what to do.”
Bat looked up. “You’re right about that. I’ve had it with those so-called human beings assuming I’m frozen inside. So...” He signed. “What are we going to do?”
A moment ago, Cheyenne believed she was incapable of thinking, but the rest of her life—and Mace’s—depended on what happened right now.
“Mace overpowered you,” she said, her thoughts barely ahead of her words and Mace’s warmth spreading through her. “It wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t tried to run. You took off after me. That’s when he... hit you on the back of your head?”
“He knocked me out with his gun?”
“I don’t know.” She looked up at Mace, seeing little more than a blur. “Maybe.”
“We could make it work,” Mace said to Bat, “if that’s what you want?”
“Why the hell do you think I was quiet all the way here? I was trying to figure out—the last thing I expected was cooperation from the two of you. Or this.” After hugging Rio, Bat got to his feet. “I thought he didn’t like people.”
“Just those he doesn’t understand.”
“I’m that transparent?” Bat’s features sobered. “Isn’t that something. The only ones who can see through me are you and a piss ugly dog.”
“Maybe you let your defenses down around them,” Cheyenne offered. “I know I was blind to Mace’s love for Rio. I should have known he’d never kill him.”
“You didn’t because you had other things on your mind.” Mace ran his fingers down her spine. “We don’t have much time. They’re expecting us back.”
“All they’re going to get is me,” Bat said. “With a raging headache and bleeding scalp. Damn, let’s get this over with.”
Forcing herself, Cheyenne stepped away from Mace. She scratched behind Rio’s ears, then held her hand out toward Bat. It would take time for her to fully comprehend what was taking place, but the essence was Mace’s dog trusted Bat. She would too.
“Are you going to be all right?” she asked Bat as he covered her fingers with his.
“Yeah, they need me too much not to buy into my story.”
“And then?” Mace asked.
She stepped aside so the two men could shake. Watching them, she blinked back tears.
“They’ll eventually find someone to replace me. I’ll retire. Hell, maybe I’ll get a dog.”
“You’d be good at it,” Mace said.
“I hope so. The two of you can’t stay here. You’re not going to be safe in this state, maybe not in this part of the country.”
“I know,” Mace said. “We’re leaving, the three of us.” Taking her in his arms, he nodded at Rio.
35
Six months later
“You’re sweaty.”
“So are you.”
“You have more body mass; therefore, your sweat index is greater than mine.”
“Body mass has never been identified as the sole criteria for any kind of index. However, I have a suggestion that should demonstrate without a doubt which of us gets an A for effort. I do want to point out that you’ve been out here soaking up the rays. Might I suggest a shower.”
Cheyenne, who’d been sitting in a reclining lawn chair on their back deck going over interview notes since coming home an hour ago, lifted her sunglasses so she could give Mace the glare he deserved. “Are you saying I stink?” she asked the familiar shadow looming over her.
“I would never say such a thing about a lady.” He cupped a protective hand over his crotch. “Not if I wanted to keep my manhood.”
“At least you understand the danger you’re in. What was your first suggestion, the one having to do with measuring sweat?”
Instead of answering, Mace took her notebook and placed it on the ground. He then covered her waiting and eager mouth with his practiced toe-curling kiss.
“I thought we might take turns licking sweat from each other’s bodies. See who gets full first.”
“That’s gross.” She playfully slapped his chest. Damn the loose cotton shirt worn by so many Floridians. Granted, it made sense given the state’s humidity, but it got in the way of what she wanted to touch. “There’s a pitcher of iced tea in the refrigerator.” Reaching for the small wooden table at her elbow, she picked up her nearly empty glass. “While you’re getting yourself some.” She extended it toward him.
“Wait a minute. Who’s the dom and who’s the sub around here?”
“I forgot.” When he took the glass from her, she rewarded his effort by unbuttoning a button on his shirt and sliding her fingers into the space she’d created. “At least I made the tea. Give me some credit.”
Sliding the fingers of his free hand into her lengthening hair, he pulled her head back so she stared at the sky. “I’ll give you something all right, but it won’t be credit. First, though, my throat’s parched.”
Leaving her, he headed for the back door that led to the kitchen of the two-bedroom house they’d signed the papers on last month. The place wasn’t upscale by any stretch of anyone’s imagination, but it had a fenced backyard. The fact that a canal formed the rear boundary was a plus, but most important, Rio was safe here. Safe and endlessly entertained by the birds, turtles, lizards, snakes, and other critters drawn to the slow-moving water. Wildlife Mace had already spent hours photographing.
At the moment, Rio was sleeping in the shade provided by a nearby palm tree. As long as the large overhead patio fan stirred the air, he wouldn’t stir, not even to greet his master.
“You’re absolutely spoiled,” Cheyenne informed the snoring pit. “Nothing but the best for you. Just wait until July. Then I won’t be able to drag you away from the AC.”
Her either, she admitted. Sitting outside in shorts and a sleeveless top a little before nightfall in April made moving across the country worth it. However, from what she understood, it wouldn’t be long before she’d be clinging to the air-conditioning.
Speaking of clinging to something, or should she say someone, Mace was back. He’d shed his shirt and shoes. The faded shorts he’d replaced his slacks with reminded her of how he’d looked last weekend when they’d gone fishing in the gulf.
Holding his glass, Mace toed the other reclining chair next to hers and stretched out on it. He took a long swallow, then put down the glass. Turning toward her, he unceremoniously pulled up her top so her unrestrained breasts were on display.
“So how did it go?” he asked, looking at her breasts as if they were only mildly interesting.
“Good. She’s remembering things she thought she’d forgotten. What a nightmare. If I’d experienced what she had, I wouldn’t want to remember either.”
“You went through a lot when we were in the Blind Spot. Maybe she senses you’re kindred souls.”
Not exactly, but then Mace didn’t need that pointed out. Twenty-four-year-old Angela Staples had decided she could no l
onger remain silent about what she’d seen and experienced living with a drug-addicted and dealing husband. Although her ex was in federal prison, she was concerned, and probably rightfully so, that certain drug kingpins would want to silence her. As a result, it had taken her awhile to find a writer she trusted. In the end, they’d found each other when Angela decided to take a journalism class Cheyenne was teaching at the local community college.
Neither author nor narrator would use their real names, but based on clips of her previous work and an outline of the proposed book, Cheyenne had found an agent who had quickly sold the project to a major publishing company. Only the agent, editor, and publisher knew who she and Crystal really were. The advance had been enough for the down payment on the house, while Mace’s security consulting under an assumed name was making the mortgage payments.
“Any idea how many more sessions between the two of you before you have everything you need?” he asked.
“Not many.” Thank goodness for shade. Otherwise, she’d have a sunburn on her nipples. She tweaked one. “Is there a point to this?”
“Point?” Mace grinned and turned onto his side so he faced her. “Well, as a matter of fact, yes.”
“You know what I’m talking about.” She pretended to slap him. “I’m trying to see where this falls under the foreplay umbrella.”
“I’m thinking more in terms of eye candy.” Tilting his head, he made a show of studying one breast at a time. “I picked up the mail. Two bills. A clothing store ad I threw away so you wouldn’t be tempted. The news is on in case you care what’s happening in the world.”
“Hmm.” Turning onto her own side, she licked her fingers and ran them down his chest. “What clothing store? I need a bathing suit.”
“Nope, I want my woman naked.”
She licked again, depositing more moisture on her fingers. “Which you get a hell of a lot.” Watching him breathe, in particular the way his nonexistent belly disappeared, nearly chased away the thoughts that had been plaguing her. “How was your day?”
“Same old, same old.” Licking his lip, he began circling her right breast. “Did a little alligator wrestling. What do you think of opening a bait shop? You’d have to get up early to be ready for first-light fishermen. I’m a little unclear on how you’d get the bait, but you’d meet a lot of interesting people. Old salts and tourists.”