Servicing the Target

by Cherise Sinclair

  “No. I haven’t seen her since Saturday night.”

  “Saturday. Jesus, where could she be?”

  Ben glanced at the clock. Late afternoon. “Probably headed in to work.”

  “You really haven’t seen her, have you? Saturday’s when she got into it with our uncles and Dad. And when she quit the agency.”

  Ben’s hand stopped halfway to his mouth. Quit? On Saturday, Anne had planned to attend her father’s birthday dinner. She hadn’t worked that day.

  Then again, a family event meant the uncles and asshole cousin had probably been there. “Robert gave her grief?”

  “Worse than that. Seems he talked Uncle Russell into giving him Anne’s leader slot and removing her from the team. She tried to maintain her cool at the party, but then our fucking father said he was glad she was off the team. He didn’t want his girl being in danger.”

  Jesus, that’d be akin to tossing a match into a gas tank. “She blew?”

  “Oh, fuck yes.” Looking exhausted, Travis scrubbed his face with his hand. “She’s not picking up her phone. She’s not been home.”

  “Maybe she’s home and not answering the doorbell?”

  “Her car’s gone.”

  “Hell.” Like a slow-building avalanche, his worry grew, burying everything before it. Had she gone through that crap right before coming to the Shadowlands? Anne loved her father. Loved her job. The bastards had gutted her.

  And then he’d taken a good long swipe at her himself. Yeah, maybe she’d chosen the little shit and didn’t want a non-slave, but Ben hadn’t needed to be an asshole about it.

  “I’m not liking the look on your face,” Travis said quietly. “What do you know that I don’t? Do you know where—”

  “I saw her after your supper.” Worry clawed at him. “Not since. We’re not together anymore.”

  “You…” Travis’s face darkened with anger. “What’d you do? After what she’d been through, you—”

  “I didn’t know. And she broke up with me, okay?” She hadn’t said anything about her job. Her family. He hadn’t given her a chance. Fuck.

  Travis’s glare slowly died. “Sorry. She’s my little sister, you know?”

  Ben could sympathize. The guy was as protective as Ben—and Anne wouldn’t have been an easy little sister to shield. Still wasn’t. “I have two younger sisters. I get you.”

  Travis’s lips twisted into wry acknowledgment. “I don’t suppose you have any idea where she might’ve gone?”

  Ben shook his head. “You still fill in at the bail bond agency. Can’t you track her down?”

  “Yeah, well, she knows exactly how to prevent someone from doing that. Even worse, with her gone, my uncles don’t have anyone, including me, who can do more than a standard trace. She’s the one with the talent.”

  “Dumb fucks, pushing her into quitting.”

  “They’re starting to figure that out.” Travis pulled out his wallet and set a business card on the counter. “If you can think of where she might be, no matter how unlikely, I’d appreciate a call.” A muscle in his cheek jumped. “When she was little, she’d hide in her room when she was hurt, but she’s not home. Or anywhere. She’s never just…left.”

  Ben straightened, feeling the need to go search for her himself. Only she wasn’t his problem now, was she? They weren’t together. At all. She’d dumped him for the little shit.

  Travis was still waiting and Ben scowled. Yeah, she’d kicked him to the curb, but not until after he’d said he couldn’t take the heat. Total goatfuck. And she’d lost her job and fought with her dad.

  He sighed. No one knew better than him how all her toughness sheltered a frighteningly tender heart. Dammit, Anne, dammit. Where are you?

  “I’ll call you if I figure something out.” Ben stuck his hand out. “If you’ll promise to let me know if you find her first.”

  Travis took his hand. “You’re going to hunt, too?”

  “Fuck, yeah.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Trying to keep her mind empty, Anne closed her eyes and let the masseur work the knots out of her shoulders.

  Almost a week had gone by as she’d lounged by the pleasantly energetic Atlantic coast, sampled every spa treatment, ignored the alcohol, and indulged in rich desserts. Could a baby be born addicted to caramel?

  In between eating and swimming and reading…she moped.

  Days had passed, yet her family dinner, then Shadowlands blowup, seemed to have happened last night. She still felt as though she’d just driven across Florida and checked into a St. Augustine hotel.

  She’d run away. Hadn’t even packed her phone. No orderly retreat for her—she’d totally fled the field of battle.

  Then again, she always had when it came to emotional upheavals. During confrontations, she’d go nose to nose. But afterward…she’d hide out until her emotions settled.

  She was getting there. Soon. Really. As soon as she could breathe without hurting, she’d return to her life.

  But…she could still see the pain in Ben’s eyes. Hear his anger. “Thanks for the taste.” Her fingers curled into—

  “Stop that. Relax,” the masseur murmured. His low voice was as even as a river stone with the edges sanded smooth. Nothing like Ben’s rough voice with the faint New York bite.

  I want Ben. When her eyes prickled with tears, she inhaled through her nose, fighting them back.

  The masseur sighed, covered her up, and rubbed her shoulder lightly. “Rest and when you’re ready, pull on the robe and enjoy the steam room. I’ll leave a glass of water outside the room for you. Drink it all.”

  “Thank you, Marc. Nice massage.”

  He huffed. “Hardly. You kept undoing my efforts.” His gaze roamed over her face. “It’s tough to move on from the past sometimes. I’d be happy to help with that as well.”

  The offer was polite and careful. And she wasn’t interested in the least. “You’re very kind. But I’m returning home tomorrow.”

  He tilted his head in acceptance. “In that case, I’ll simply say, it’s been a pleasure.”

  “For me, as well.”

  An hour later, lacking any motivation to do…anything…she lingered on the deck outside the hotel restaurant. Her supper dishes had been cleared away, and the cheerful waitress had brought her a cup of herb tea.

  Past the lush tropical landscaping was a long expanse of white sandy beach. Waves rolled in, high and foamy, with a grumbling roar never heard on the Gulf. The Atlantic Ocean was so much bigger, so much more powerful. Like the difference between the masseur and Ben.

  No. Not going there.

  She rested her bare foot on the adjacent chair and studied her pedicure. Her toenails were dark blue with tiny glittering stars, like a night sky.

  During her days here, her body had been refreshed, pampered, and decorated. Physically, she felt well enough she had trouble believing she was pregnant. Well, except when she lay down on a massage table and realized her breasts were uncomfortably larger and more tender. Or when some scent would make her want to heave. Or when an emotion would yank her along like a riptide.

  Yes, she was positively pregnant. And her time for mindless moping must come to an end. She needed to make some decisions about her life. A whole lot of decisions, actually.

  She wiggled her toes, creating mayhem in the starry skies. Good at that, wasn’t she? If someone had paid her, she couldn’t have managed to sabotage her careful, comfortable life better than what she’d accomplished last weekend.

  As Ben would say, “Bravo Zulu, Anne.”

  Ben. What should she do about him? Would he even speak to her? The memory of his unforgiving expression was accompanied by his cruel words, “Don’t see any need to talk this to death. You were right. I’m vanilla, and I don’t need this kink shit. Thanks for the taste.”

  He was done with her. Done.

  As anguish expanded from her chest throughout her entire body, she froze, trying to breathe despite the pain. Tryi
ng not to burst into tears.

  After a few seconds, a few lifetimes, the agony receded, leaving aching emptiness behind. She let out a breath and picked up her tea. Right. She did have to think about Ben, but…this wasn’t the place. She needed to wait until she had her home around her.

  She took a sip and forced herself to swallow.

  No matter what she decided, she had to tell him about the baby. He was the father. She didn’t want child support, but…but being Ben, he’d insist on providing it. And he’d want to be part of the baby’s life.

  That would hurt. And yet—she rested her hand on her stomach—whether girl or boy, the child could only be better for having an example of the finest of men.

  For her baby’s sake, she would manage to cope with seeing Ben, and he’d do the same.

  She pulled in a breath and blinked back tears. Why did life have to be so painful?

  Onward, Anne. Next up, the Shadowlands.

  Unable to swallow any longer, she set the tea down with a thump.

  “Miss.” The man standing beside her table had gleaming white hair. Dressed in all white, he leaned on a black cane. His blue eyes were faded, yet observant. “I fear I am interrupting, but child, is there anything I can do to help?”

  “I’m sorry?” She frowned, not following. Had she dropped something or—

  “I’ve never seen anyone outside a hospital look so in agony. Would you permit me to help if I can?” The question brought more pain and yet—a sweetness accompanied it.

  The world still contained wonderful people. She held out her hand. Her voice came out husky with unconquered tears. “A recent loss.” So many losses. “But time will take care of it, I’m sure.” Never. “Thank you for your concern.”

  Much like the masseur, Marc, the senior tilted his head in acknowledgment and gave her fingers a squeeze. “All right then, missy. You take good care now.”

  “And you.”

  He had helped after all, boosting her up and out of her grief. Reminded of the balance of life, she blessed the stranger, and then set her mind to considering that night at the Shadowlands, Cullen and Raoul, and her behavior.

  Not good. No matter what they’d said, she herself had overreacted and lost her temper. She couldn’t exactly blame them for doing the same.

  If necessary, a talk would see things right between them. But, maybe even that wouldn’t be needed. She wasn’t in the Shadowlands any longer.

  And she didn’t plan to reinstate her membership. Ben worked there, and…for both their sakes, she’d keep a distance. And, in all reality, it would be a long, long time before she opened up to accepting a submissive again, even for lightweight play.

  But she’d miss seeing her friends there. Not only the Masters and Mistresses, but also the submissive women, Jessica, Beth, Kim…all of them. She’d always had casual friends, but this group had become more. They were an important part of her life.

  Just another change she hadn’t noticed sneaking up on her.

  Her mouth firmed. The Shadowlands was out, but she wouldn’t lose her girlfriends. She’d never willingly left a friend behind. Not when she was a child and dragged away by her father. Not now. Maybe they’d find it awkward to be friends with both her and Ben, but they’d manage, because loyalty was one of their finest qualities.

  Next subject to fret about: her occupation.

  She smiled. The job topic wasn’t nearly as painful. Wasn’t that nice?

  Leaning her head back on the chair, she considered her options.

  First possibility. She was a very, very good skip tracer and team leader, and Robert truly was incompetent. The uncles might well reconsider and want her back.

  Second possibility. She could pursue other jobs. If she tightened her belt—uh, bad phrasing. She patted her stomach. Sorry, baby. If she pinched her pennies, she could take her time finding a new position. She’d banked most of her wages so her savings account was healthy. Her beach house had been a gift, so she had no rent or mortgage to pay each month. Thanks, Mom.

  The only trouble with her home was living so close to her father. Unfortunately, moving away for a few years would hurt her mother.

  Besides, her love for him hadn’t died. Dad was a total archaic butthead about equality and about seeing her as she was, but he loved her too. Somehow they’d make up.

  But he needed to make the first move. Damn straight.

  There, she had some plans made.

  Tomorrow, she’d check out of the hotel and return home. It was time to put things right and deal with the changes that she would set in motion.

  And then there was the biggest change of all.

  With a half-smile, she laid her hand on her stomach. I’m carrying Ben’s baby.

  * * * *

  Since Travis’s visit yesterday, Ben had searched for Anne without results. Called the bail bond company. Checked the shelter. Used the Shadowlands membership list to check with her girlfriends…and the little shit, as well.

  He’d come up empty.

  At his monthly veteran’s group meeting, he lingered behind the others. “Talk to you for a minute, Z?”

  “Of course. Help yourself to a beer; water for me, please.” Z squeezed his shoulder and walked out to say good night to the rest.

  Ben grabbed a beer and water, took a seat at the iron-and-oak table, and…stewed. Where the fuck could the woman have gone? Surely she’d have checked in.

  Gaze on Ben, Z crossed the lanai and sat across from him. “What’s worrying you?”

  Before he could answer, the door on the third floor landing opened. Jessica came down the stairs with Sophia asleep in her arms and spotted Ben. “Oops, sorry. I thought everyone had left.” She turned to go.

  “Nah, Jessica,” Ben said. “No secrets here. I wanted to talk about Anne. Need to share some information and get some advice.”

  “Okay. If you’re sure.”

  “Here, little one.” Z rose and held a chair for her, before touching the baby’s cheek with gentle fingers.

  Envy—and grief—filled Ben’s heart. With losing Anne, hopes had died that he hadn’t even known he’d created.

  “Go on, Benjamin,” Z prompted, resuming his seat.

  “All right. Last weekend in the Shadowlands, Anne and I planned to discuss our relationship.”

  Z nodded, unsurprised.

  “We didn’t.” Ben sipped his drink, unsure how much to say. “I saw her back with Joey and lost my temper. Told her I was done.”

  Jessica’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything.

  “That seems unlike you.” Gaze on Ben, Z pulled Jessica closer and put his arm under the baby for added support.

  “Maybe. But we’d been…” Ben rubbed his unshaven face. “I’d told her a few days before that I wasn’t a slave. She wanted to think about it. We were going to talk that night.”

  “Ah.” Z eyed him. “She said she was taking Joey back instead?”

  “I didn’t give her a chance to talk—but yeah, that’s about right. Only now I think I might have fucked up.”

  Jessica’s snort sounded like a sneeze.

  Ben glanced at her. “You got something to add, blondie?”

  “She wouldn’t go back to Joey. He’s a heavy masochist and she…well, she’s not that sadistic any longer. She told me that.” Jessica shook her head. “Could you have misread the situation?”

  When Ben had called, Joey hadn’t had a clue where Anne was. Had seemed surprised that anyone thought he would.

  Did I pull the trigger without taking in all the details? He scowled at the table. No problem to bring up the image burned into his brain. Anne bending down to Joey, his chin cupped in her hand, looking into his face…for fucking ever.

  But that was all Ben had seen, really. A long look. Had his own insecurity made him read more into the body language? “Maybe I…was hasty.”

  “If you made a mistake, you’ll talk to her, whether she wants to or not, even if you have to tackle her at her workplace,” Z said
with no doubt in his voice. “I can’t imagine you doing less.”

  “Roger that.”

  Z lifted his eyebrows, silently asking what advice he wanted.

  “There’s more information you need to know.” Ben felt his gut clench. “Earlier that night, she’d fought with her family and then quit her job, too.”

  “Nooo.” Jessica shook her head. “She loves her job. And her family.”

  “Yeah. And that’s the problem. No one—family or friends—has seen her since she left the Shadowlands that night. Have you?” He looked at Z.

  “I haven’t heard from her, no.” Z gazed at the darkness outside the lanai. “She’s strong, but her heart leaves her vulnerable. How many blows can she take before breaking?”

  A delayed realization dumped guilt on Ben’s shoulders. If she hadn’t taken Joey back, then…one of those blows could have come from him. What the fuck had he done?

  “And Cullen said…” Jessica pressed her hand to her mouth, tears in her eyes. “That’s not fair; she’s had too much.”

  “Shhh, little one.” Z lifted his wife and daughter into his lap, pulling them close.

  “What did Cullen say?” Ben asked.

  Z shook his head. “Cullen apparently thought the same thing you did, that she’d left you for Joey. He was angry on your behalf.”

  “Jesus, I don’t need help.” Had Cullen come down on her when she was hurting and pissed off? “Is that where she is? In jail for leaving bloody chunks of a dick-headed, dumbass Master all over the bar top?”

  “Benjamin.” Z’s voice was dry. “Before Anne returns, you might work on the respectful language considered appropriate for a submissive.”

  As long as she returned, he might do that.

  Z stroked Jessica’s hair. “I wish Anne had reacted with violence. Instead, she quit.”

  “Quit what?”

  The lines beside Z’s mouth deepened. “She terminated her membership. And, yes, I’ve tried to reach her with no success.”

  She quit the Shadowlands? The sinking feeling in Ben’s chest was new, as if his heart had bottomed out. What the fuck was she thinking, cutting every tie she had? Was she crazy?