Servicing the Target

by Cherise Sinclair

  “Like a typical hurt guy,” Jessica said.

  “Yes, like a wounded man, he not only picked up his cards, but kicked over the table as well,” Uzuri agreed.

  “He lied about what he wants, Anne,” Kim said. “He’s not a slave, but he’s not vanilla either. He told Raoul that.”

  “Hey, I saw him after one of your scenes. He looked past content and well into blissful. It’s obvious he’s into that part of submission.” Jessica smiled.

  “Blissful.” And didn’t that lovely description make Anne feel good?

  Kim nodded. “You two need to talk. I think you belong together.”

  Their expressions held such conviction that Anne’s eyes burned with tears. She’d avoided thinking about Ben and what to do. Maybe this was why—because her memory was all mixed up with pain and lost hopes.

  But these women were her…her posse…as Jessica had said. They wouldn’t steer her wrong. “All right. I’ll—”

  The sound of ripping drew Anne’s attention toward the deck.

  A hand reached through a long gash in the screen door and unlatched the lock. A huge man slid the door open and stepped in.

  Anne shot to her feet. “Who—” She stopped at the sight of his face.

  Although a panty hose over his head flattened his features, the rage came through clearly. “More ’n one bitch here, bro.” He waved the knife toward them.

  More men crowded through the door—all masked. An armed robbery?

  Adrenaline dried Anne’s mouth.

  Uzuri squeaked with fear.

  Her heart kicking against her ribs, Anne faced the men, sliding into a non-offensive stance that still prepared her for battle.

  “What do you want?” Anne counted five men. Too many to fight successfully. Damn. Her stomach twisted to the point of nausea.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Kim take a grip on a lamp.

  Jessica retreated behind a chair, holding the phone in her hands out of sight. Hopefully she’d hit mute when dialing 9-1-1.

  To keep the men’s attention from Jessica, Anne backed toward the kitchen. “What do you want?” she repeated in a calm voice. The longer they could avoid violence the better.

  Five men. 9-1-1 might be too late.

  The man in the forefront had a bulky body the size of Ben’s, an oversized head, and a snarl like a vicious pit bull. “Where’d you hide my wife and my son, you cunt?”

  Oh, bad. Home invasions were rampant in Tampa, but this wasn’t an attempted burglary. “My wife.” This was an abuser trying to find his victim. The knot in Anne’s belly tightened. The masks had given her hope—but these guys couldn’t afford to leave witnesses behind.

  My baby. Anne started to cover her stomach, then forced her arms to hang loose. Never draw attention to a vulnerability. I’m not pregnant. No, not me.

  Fear dried her mouth. The storm and accompanying accidents would slow the arrival of the police. How long could she stall? “Who’s your wife?”

  “Sue Ellen. Now where the fuck is she?” He swung his arm and knocked a lamp into the wall.

  Hand against her mouth, Uzuri gave a thin scream.

  Sue Ellen. The woman had been choked, and her son had displayed a fist-sized bruise on his baby cheek. “Billy will come after me,” she’d said.

  “I’m so sorry.” Meeting Billy’s raging eyes, Anne spread her hands out helplessly. “I don’t know who that is. As a bounty hunter, I meet a lot of people every day.”

  “Bitch, you took her to some fucked-up place for women. You’re trying to hide her—hide her from me, her legal husband,” he said.

  A man who also rivaled Ben for height and muscles moved forward. His mask had smashed his broad features, but Anne recognized the build of the ogre-like brother-in-law who’d seen her with Sue Ellen.

  His gaze took her in. “That’s her, brother.”

  Billy took a step forward. “You fucking—”

  “Don’t got time to fuck around.” The brother grabbed Uzuri’s hair and slapped her so violently her head jerked back.

  Tears filled her eyes as she struggled in his grip.

  He grinned at Anne, feeding off Uzuri’s whimpers. “Tell us the address or we fuck up your girlies.” He held up his hand again, and Uzuri cringed.

  “Stop.” Shoving down fury, Anne made her voice waver. It wasn’t difficult with the waves of fear chilling her blood. “I’ll tell. P-please, don’t hurt us.”

  “Sounds more like it.” Another of the men approached Anne. Faded shirt. Dark tan. The sickening sweet smell of chewing tobacco couldn’t overwhelm the stench of his sweat. “Gimme the fuckin’ address.”

  Ogre shoved Uzuri away. She landed on her hands and knees, crying and shaking.

  Anne’s jaw clenched. These good ol’ boys who thought spousal abuse was their God-given right still might not be stupid enough to take her word for the address.

  She didn’t have much choice though. Hoping against hope, she rattled off a made-up number on a large St. Pete street.

  Now leave us here and go check it out.

  * * * *

  Goddamned rain. Goddamned flooding. Ben finally reached Clearwater Island, navigated through streets tangled with branches and debris, swerved around the inevitable fender-benders, and slowly trailed another car into Anne’s cul-de-sac. To his surprise, two beat-up pickups were parked on the street on each side of her driveway.

  Was she having a party?

  Annoyingly enough, the car in front of him turned into her drive. Fuck. The detour he’d been forced to take getting out of St. Pete had given Travis and Anne’s father time to arrive.

  Hell with it, he was still going to see her.

  Recognizing the location, Bronx whined. He wanted his Anne.

  So do I. He ruffled Bronx’s fur. “You have to wait, buddy. Anne and I have things to settle before you jump in.”

  He closed the door and flinched at the streak of lightning followed by the crack of thunder. After a slow breath, he crossed to Travis. “I got held up.”

  “I figured. The roads are a mess.” Travis nodded toward his father, who walked around the car. “Dad, this is Ben Haugen. Ben, my father, Stephan Desmarais.”

  Desmarais was about six feet, dark haired, with the lean build of his sons and a military bearing. “Good to meet you.” He shook Ben’s hand before his mouth firmed in a determined line. “I realize you’re probably here to see my daughter. I want to talk to her first.”

  Ben set his feet. “We all have reasons to see her. I figure the choice of who she speaks with first is hers. Not mine. Not yours. I’ll accompany you to the door.”

  Travis coughed, as if covering a laugh.

  Anne’s father wasn’t laughing, and his glare was worthy of note. Not that Ben would change his mind, but it was a pretty good glare.

  Anne’s was better.

  * * * *

  Terror and rage mixed in an unholy brew as Anne watched the men spread out in the room, far too close to her friends.

  Her very vulnerable friends. Jessica had a new baby. Kim and Uzuri had already suffered at the hands of abusive men.

  Starting the fight now wouldn’t help anything. Wait…

  The guy with a bushy brown beard pulled out a phone and tapped in the address Anne had provided.

  Anne’s heart sank. Didn’t it just figure one of them would know how to check a map app? As his comrades waited for the bearded one’s results, she moved closer to her friends.

  Wait…

  Beard shook his head and snapped out, “No such address. She lied.”

  “You fuckin’ cunt.” Billy started toward Anne.

  “Brother. No. That one’s got to be able to talk.” Ogre glanced at the red-shirted man and pointed to Jessica. “Cut that bitch.”

  “No,” Anne cried. “Wait—”

  Red Shirt yanked out a knife from his belt sheath and grabbed for Jessica.

  Even as Anne charged across the room, Jessica jumped sideways, out of reach.
/>   Kim threw the lamp.

  The metal base struck the side of his head and knocked him back a step.

  “Fuckin’ bitch.” Chewing-Tobacco lunged at Kim. She dodged but tripped over a side table and landed on her side on the floor.

  Knife first. “You!” Anne shouted at Red Shirt. Skidding to a stop, she pivoted. Powered with all her anger, her sidekick smashed into the man’s leg. The crunch of a knee bending in a direction it wasn’t designed for was accompanied by his shriek. The knife hit the floor; then he did.

  Ogre backhanded her.

  Pain exploded in her cheek.

  Falling.

  Her head slammed into the floor.

  * * * *

  “What the fuck was that?” Travis asked from the stoop of Anne’s front door.

  Ben knew. A man in agony. He hadn’t heard that since Iraq.

  Shoving Travis aside, he tried the door handle. Locked.

  Why the hell had he given her key back? He sprinted toward the back. If necessary, he could bust through the deck’s sliding glass door.

  Pounding footsteps sounded behind him as he rounded the side of the house, went up the steps three at a time, and across the rain-drenched deck.

  Both glass and screen doors stood open and the inside was chaos.

  Fighting filled the room. Men with hose over their heads. One rolled on the floor, holding his leg. The rest… Where was Anne?

  Ben’s rage erupted. The bastards had attacked women. A slight brunette—Kim—punched a bearded guy with her tiny fist forcefully enough to stop him—and then Jessica hit him over the head with an end table.

  Anne was on the ground.

  Shit!

  A puny-ass punch thumped into Ben’s ribs, and he shoved the attacker over the couch and headed toward—

  Anne scrambled to her feet, unsteady, staggering clumsily away from a fucking big bastard, shaking her head. The man swung at her.

  “No,” Ben roared.

  She dodged and whirled, her leg rising, rising, and the top of her bare foot smashed into the man’s temple. He went down.

  Two men remained. One turned toward her.

  “Assholes.” Ben charged the short bastard standing in the way of his goal. He buried his fist in the man’s gut and followed with a right hook to the jaw that broke everything moveable and ensured the bastard’d be sucking his food through a straw for a long time to come.

  The bearded, lamp-victim staggered to his feet and charged Jessica. Travis and Stephan intercepted.

  Ben turned his sights on the last one. Even bigger than Ben and bulky. Fine target. Ben swung.

  The man sidestepped far enough that Ben’s punch caught only his ribs. With a grunt, asshole absorbed the blow and counter-punched with a meaty fist.

  Ben slapped his arm to one side.

  “Billy!” With a livid bruise marring her cheek, Anne stared at the asshole. Her expression was purely furious, her temper white hot. And she wasn’t ready to quit.

  Ben almost…almost took the guy out, but pulled his punch at the last minute.

  Hell.

  Some men gave their women flowers to apologize.

  If her temper was riled, Anne was liable to return a bouquet, aiming it right at his head. But there were other ways to ask forgiveness.

  Like a Billy present. Still wanting to kill the asshole, Ben grabbed his collar, tossed him into a wall to keep him busy, and called, “I’m sorry for what I said, Ma’am.”

  Diverted, Anne turned her steel-gray gaze to Ben.

  “Can I make it up to you?” He caught the bastard on the rebound and shoved him toward her. “A treat?”

  “What?” She dodged the staggering asshole and kicked his legs out from under him.

  Billy landed, and the house shook.

  “What are you doing here, Benjamin?” When Billy lunged to his feet, Anne punched him in the chin and propelled him back toward Ben.

  “Apologizing. I fucked up…thought you’d gone back to your pretty boy.” Just thinking about the little shit added a bit of emphasis when Ben backhanded the dazed asshole across the face. He pushed him to Anne.

  She muttered something about her posse being right. After ducking under Billy’s wild swing, she side-kicked him in the gut and returned him to Ben. “You idiot, I love you. Why would I want Joey?”

  The words…the words…paralyzed Ben completely. Love? She loved him? The thrill ran up his spine, sending rockets exploding in the air, making his ears ring.

  Something thumped his belly, and he realized the asshole had hit him. Forgetting even to reprimand him, Ben snorted in disgust and tossed him to Anne. “Me, too. You. We need to talk.”

  “I agree. It’s time.” She took out the man with a blazing jab-jab to the stomach, and a left hook to the jaw, followed by a right cross.

  “Bravo Zulu, Ma’am,” Well done.

  “Shit, that was pretty, sis.” Travis smiled at her before frowning at Ben. “You could have let me play too, dickhead.”

  “Your sister’s house; your sister’s toys.”

  “You cowardly bastard, you shoved him at my little girl?” Anne’s father was red with anger. “And you…” He shouldered aside his son, who’d apparently blocked him from participating. “You’re no better.”

  “Hey, they were having a talk,” Travis said so virtuously there should’ve been a halo over his head. “Mom said not to interrupt serious discussions.”

  “Don’t look now, Stephan, but she’s not a little girl.” With pride, Ben watched Anne—my woman—help Uzuri stand.

  Sirens sounded, growing in intensity.

  Off to one side, Travis was still arguing with Stephan.

  Ben grabbed some duct tape from the kitchen drawer and started to immobilize the bad guys, leaving the obviously incapacitated one for last. He’d bet his last dollar that the guy—still moaning over his visibly destroyed knee—was Anne’s work.

  “Jessica, are you all right?” Anne called as she helped the trembling Uzuri into a chair. “Can you let the police in?”

  “I’m good.” Blondie shoved her hair out of her face, scowled at the bearded idiot on the floor, and thumped him in the ribs with her little foot. “And I’d be delighted.”

  “You?” Anne glanced at Kim with eyebrows raised.

  She got a firm nod back. “I’m fine.” Kim picked up an overturned, metal-based lamp and whacked the same poor bastard with it before setting it on an end table.

  Ben chuckled. The Shadowkittens had some wicked keen claws.

  Anne heard him and turned. And approached.

  His heart rate increased. He straightened and set a foot on the half-secured bad guy.

  She flattened her hand on Ben’s chest. Her knuckles were reddened, the creases between the fingers showing broken blood vessels. His woman had hit hard. He’d have to get her an ice pack.

  She went up on tiptoes to kiss him lightly. “You’ve earned a reward for sharing the treat.”

  “Not much I won’t do to earn a reward,” he murmured. Fuck, he wanted her. Wanted to kneel at her feet, to be ordered to service her, to taste her, to breathe her in.

  To feel her hands in his hair as she led the way…and took him with her.

  Her hand hadn’t moved from his chest, and she studied him for a second, then her lips curved. “After the garbage is taken away, we’ll talk. Then…”

  Then. Yeah. “Works for me.”

  With hope budding in her heart, Anne turned to deal with the tasks awaiting her. Bad guys, cops, friends, family. And Ben. Ben most of all.

  Uzuri first. But even as she headed that way, Kim pulled the little submissive out of the chair, saying, “While Anne talks with the police, why don’t we clean up the mess?”

  “Okay,” Uzuri whispered, but she didn’t move.

  Guilt ran through Anne. Those men had been after her, not Uzuri. The vulnerable woman shouldn’t have had to endure the resurrection of past traumas.

  Anne put an arm around her waist. “Uzuri.”


  Her velvety-brown eyes dropped.

  With a finger under the subbie’s chin, Anne tilted her face up. Her beautiful brown skin was marred by a bloody scrape along her jaw and a cut lip, making Anne want to start another brawl. “How are you doing, honey?”

  “That’s just it. I didn’t do anything.” Shame showed on Uzuri’s face. “Didn’t fight back. Just…took it.”

  Ah, so that was what was wrong. Anne shoved her welling pity to one side; it wouldn’t benefit the young woman. “You’re right. You were no help at all in the fight.”

  Tears filled Uzuri’s eyes at the merciless statement.

  Anne ignored Kim’s gasp and kept her grip on Uzuri’s chin, holding her gaze. “And that means next time you’ll need to do better. You’re going to take self-defense classes, even if you’re scared.”

  Uzuri blinked. “But—”

  “That’s an order, sub,” Anne said softly, adding a thread of ice. “Am I clear?”

  Uzuri was still trembling, but resolve firmed her mouth and filled her eyes. “Yes, Ma’am. I will.”

  “That’s what I want to hear.” Anne squeezed her waist. “You’re stronger than you think; you just need the tools to prove it.” And I’ll be on your ass to make sure you do. “Now, can you help clean this place up while I deal with the cops?”

  Given a command, Uzuri pulled herself together. Relief eased her expression. “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Obviously recognizing the Domme’s technique, Kim winked, gave a mock martial arts bow. “Let’s get some bags and pitch everything that’s broken.”

  As the two headed for the kitchen, Anne turned to her next task.

  “Anne.” Her father pulled free of Travis’s restraining grip. “What the hell was going on?”

  Oh, honestly. So much for making amends any time soon. She gave him a disgusted stare. “I can’t believe you called Ben a coward for being nice enough to let me finish a fight.”

  His mouth dropped open. “You’re my daughter. I—”

  “We’ve had this talk before.” Anne was through with his crap. “Go home to Mom. Maybe she enjoys being treated like a precious figurine that will break if you look at it too roughly—although I’d say she’s stronger than you give her credit for.”