Sub Mission

by Ts McKinney

  Baker searched the crowd for me and I waved him over. He looked pissed. Good. My boy didn’t want another man touching him. I liked that. It made some silly feeling flow through my blood, warming it in a captivating way.

  He stomped over toward me and collapsed into the booth. The frown was still plastered on his face as he grabbed his drink, shoved the straw into his mouth, and sucked nearly half of it down. “Stupid sons of bitches,” he muttered and then finished the rest of the drink with his second suck on the straw.

  My mind, sick bastard it was, immediately went to how well he’d suck cock.

  “What’s up, Sweet? You don’t like the boys touching you?” Him not wanting other men touching him definitely made him sweet instead of tart in my eyes.

  “Nah,” he muttered then his eyes snapped up to me. “I mean, yeah, definitely, but that wasn’t the biggest problem. If it was just the guy thing, I would have pointed toward you and they would have high-tailed it to safety. I already had a plan in place.”

  Another Singapore Sling magically slid in front of him. The waiter, a cute twink in go-go shorts said, “An apology from two assholes who apparently tried to feel you up on the dance floor.” He looked me up and down and, after melting into a puddle of goo, said, “As if you’d give them the time of day when you’re with this hunk of muscle.” He puffed some air out and added, “And you wearing a collar, too. Assholes. Enjoy the drink, cutie.”

  With that, he flounced off and I turned my attention back to Baker. He’d already slurped down half the drink before I could tell him not to drink it. I never drank anything I didn’t watch the bartender fix himself and I wouldn’t have allowed Baker to, either. Looks like I was too late.

  “What’s got you so fired up?” Suddenly it dawned on me. “Did they say something to you? Do I need to kick their asses?”

  He grinned. “I’d like to see that, actually. That may make me a snotty bitch, but I’d still like to see you knock them both on their asses.” He reached around and rubbed one of his sides and then the other. “They shocked me with something. Assholes.”

  “What?” I practically screamed. “Shocked you? Like with a taser? Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure, Seth. I felt it. It hurt like a motherfucker.” He kept rubbing one side and then the other. “It still stings.” He frowned. “There’s a welt there, in each spot. Damn! I should have punched them.”

  Fury ripped through me. I knew shit like this went on in every bar, but I’d never really encountered it in my small circle of the world. I fully intended to make sure whatever taser they’d used on Baker ended up shoved so far up their asses it would poke out of their mouths. I leaned over and said, “Listen to me, Baker. I want you to sit here. Do. Not. Move. I mean it, Baker. I need to know I can trust you to wait right here for me.”

  He gulped another slurp through his straw. “What are you doing? Are you going after them? Cause if you’re going after them, I’m going, too. It was me they zapped. I deserve to get to be the one to zap their asses back.”

  “I understand how you feel, but I don’t feel good about this. Promise me you’ll wait right here. I’ll only be a few minutes.” I smiled and nodded toward his drink. “Finish your slurpee and I’ll be right back. Oh, and don’t drink anymore. I have a standard rule that if I don’t watch the bartender fix the drink, I consider it unsafe to drink – just for future reference. Will you stay here and be a good boy for me?”

  He rolled his eyes and pouted. “Fine. I’ll stay here, but, just for future reference, I don’t think you’re being fair. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself,” he huffed.

  “I’m well aware of that, Baker. Sit tight. I’ll only be a few.”

  Satisfied that he’d do as I asked, I quickly moved through the club towards the back area. Both guys had left the dance floor and I’d seen them headed toward the bathrooms. I hoped to hell that I’d find them there. The rage rolling through my body was much more than the fact that somebody had violated another person’s body—that was bad enough on its own, and would always make me angry. What I was feeling, though, had a lot more to do with how I felt about Baker. He was mine. Nobody touched what was mine and I protected what was mine…at all costs. Those sons of bitches were going to pay. Landon would be delighted when he ended up having to bail me out of a Miami jail.

  For Baker, I’d deal with Landon’s wrath. Hell, for Baker, I’d deal with anything.

  I tore down the darkened hall and the scowl on my face must have said it all, people skittered out of the way like terrified ducklings. None of the faces in the hall matched the two idiots who accosted Baker, so I yanked the door open to the men’s room. There were a couple of blow jobs going on in corners, some men cleaning up at the sinks, and a few at the urinals—none were my men. There were six stalls and each one was occupied. The polite thing to do would be wait for them to finish. Number one, I wasn’t polite. Number two, Baker was alone while I did this, which meant there was no time for politeness. Before I’d finished, I’d ruined six doors and terrified eight people. Yeah, two were double occupancy, which I guessed was better than the two couples sexing it up out in the open. After mumbling a few apologies and making a mental note to make Landon send the club owner money to repair the doors, I left the men’s room and headed toward the bar. It was a huge circular bar that could seat about thirty people and, of course, even more stood around like buzzards circling the dead as they waited for a seat. The men weren’t there either. I looked at the dance floor, but it was so wild and crowded, it would be impossible for me to find them without fighting my way out there amongst the partiers and hunt through them.

  Of course, it was exactly what I was going to do after I checked in on Baker. They might not be making it easy on me, but I wouldn’t give up.

  Still cruising on anger, I bumped my way through the crowd to make my way to our table. When I was three steps away, my anger was suddenly directed to someone else entirely—Baker. He hadn’t followed my orders. The table was occupied with another couple and Baker was nowhere to be seen. I was going to spank his ass until he wouldn’t be able to sit for at least a week. Stomping my way over, I glared down at the two men who’d taken up residence at our table. One was a bigger guy like me and his date was an effeminate twink. When they noticed me standing over them, their eyes sparkled with interest…until they took a good look at the fury on my face. The interest dissolved immediately.

  “Can I help you with something?” the bigger guy asked.

  I took several deep breaths to try and control my anger and then said, “There was a guy sitting here—black hair, blue eyes, dressed in all black. Did you see him or was he already gone before you go here?”

  The twink giggled. “Oooohhh, yes. He’s a pretty one. He yours?”

  “Just answer the fucking question,” I hissed.

  “Easy,” the big man warned. “That’s mine so show the same respect I’d show to what belongs to you.” When I turned my glare in his direction, he didn’t back down at all. “The guy you’re talking about was here, but he was sick. It was pretty evident he’d had way too much to drink—couldn’t talk and definitely couldn’t walk on his own. Some other guys from your group helped him get up and said they were taking him home. They told us the table was open and then moved on.”

  “What?!” I roared. “When did this happen?” Terror gripped every inch of my body. Baker hadn’t drunk enough to be incapacitated. He’d been drugged. Fucking drugged, right under my nose.

  The big man looked alarmed. “Just seconds ago, man. Were those guys not with you? Your man didn’t act…” He stopped talking. “Hell, he couldn’t act like anything. He was too far gone.”

  I was surprised when the giant stood up. He had about three inches on me and was nothing but solid muscle. “It pisses me off when shit like this happens. Mischel, stay here and don’t drink anything or let anybody touch you. Blow your whistle if anybody comes near you. I mean it.” He turned to me and said, “They went tow
ard the front exit. Let’s go.”

  I had no idea why he was offering to help or if he was leading me to my death, but didn’t particularly care at that moment. If he led me to Baker, I’d deal with what happened when we got there. Between both of our sizes, people cleared a path for their own safety.

  “They couldn’t have gotten far,” the man muttered. “This shit is happening more and more often around here.”

  We burst through the doors and the cool night air did nothing to help my burn—it was from the inside out. I looked in one direction and he looked in the other. Within a second, I heard him yell, “There they are!”

  I turned toward his voice and just started running. He was already racing down the sidewalk. I looked ahead of him and saw three guys practically dragging a lifeless Baker toward a large black SUV. I roared loud enough to wake the dead and as soon as they heard it, they dropped Baker onto the sidewalk and made a wild dash for their ride.

  It felt like it was in slow motion as I watched Baker’s body tumble lifelessly to the ground. The back of his head smacked against the concrete hard enough that I heard it from where I was, even over the loud nightlife noise of Miami. Once he hit, there was no movement at all.

  I’d passed the guy who’d helped me and was on my knees, cradling Baker in my arms, and calling 911 before he made it to where we were. After giving the information to 911, I hung up and started checking Baker’s vital signs, whispering words of encouragement and love the entire time.

  His eyelids fluttered, and he mumbled, “Stop screaming at me.”

  At least, that’s what I thought he said. I was just so damned happy to hear him talk that I almost broke out into a chorus of Hallelujahs…and nearly cried tears of joy.

  Big guy finally got to us and asked, “You call an ambulance yet?”

  “Yeah, they’re on their way,” I answered. When I turned to look up at him, he gave me their plate numbers and a description of their vehicle. “There’s a lot of this bullshit going on around the clubs right now. Date rape drugs are still rampant, but they have a new technique they’ve added to their arsenal. It’s an EpiPen that injects heavy doses of GHB mixed with Ketamine. It’s fast acting and deadly. Get him to a hospital for some IV fluids.” He stood back up. “I need to get back to mine. Good luck.”

  I watched him go, shocked that someone would step up the way that stranger had. Fuck, if it hadn’t been for them telling me about Baker, I could have lost him. If it was the same people responsible for the abductions related to Javier’s club, my partner…my sub would have been abused, defiled, and tortured while under my protection. Nausea caused the contents of my stomach to roll and tumble.

  “Easy, babe,” I whispered as I cradled his head in my lap. “I’ve got you. I shouldn’t have left you alone. Shhh, you’re safe.” I kept talking, trying to reassure Baker he was safe. I wasn’t sure what he heard or if he heard anything, but I wanted to him to know I had him. He wasn’t conscious and was sweating profusely. His breathing was labored, and it hurt me to watch him gasping for air. After a few more minutes of waiting for the ambulance, I felt his body start to tremble with seizures. The vomit followed shortly after that. I was thankful the drug was being purged from his body but frightened he might choke on the poison flushing itself from his body.

  After what seemed like a lifetime, the ambulance arrived and within minutes, we were both loaded in and headed to Mercy Miami Hospital. As they started an IV flowing through his veins, I shot off a text to Landon, giving him the quickest explanation possible until I could give him a more thorough update. I wouldn’t have taken time to do that, but he was blowing up my phone, wanting a confirmation that Baker was safe. Our men had witnessed the attempted abduction but I’d gotten there before any of them had blown their covers. I signed off in seconds and checked on Baker’s vital signs. His BP was low but, other than that, he looked like he was merely sleeping—much better than earlier.

  We’d dodged a bullet. My jealousy had almost cost Baker his safety. Had I lost my ability to be professional? To keep focused on the job they were paying me to do? Past victims and future victims depended on me to settle this shit. Was I capable of separating my personal feelings from my job?

  Two hours later, I felt much better regarding Baker’s health and even worse about my actions at the club. They’d been pumping fluids through his system and performed a gastric lavage as soon as he’d arrived. Watching them do that to him, inserting the tubes down his throat and in his nose, had been difficult. Seeing the fury in his cloudy blue eyes when he’d woken up to find himself being held down while tubing was inserted into him had been even worse—one of the worst feelings of helplessness and guilt of my life.

  Now we were just waiting for the release papers to creep their way through the hospital’s system. Other than yes or no answers, he’d yet to talk very much. Did he blame me? He had to. How could he not?

  Landon had been busy. They’d entered the tag numbers into the system and, of course, it ended up being stolen plates placed on the SUV. With the way my luck was going, I should have known it wouldn’t be that simple. He’d now pulled all the men that had been watching our penthouse to start gathering any camera footage they could obtain from surrounding businesses. With all the restaurants, clubs, and even a bank within a two-mile block of Skittles, there would have to be security cameras that caught the SUV as it traveled to the scene and then raced away. If we were lucky, one of the cameras would capture the money shot and show faces of the vehicle’s occupants. Until then, we were dead in the water on what our next step needed to be. Landon didn’t agree with me, but I’d already told him there was no way Baker would be in Javier’s club tomorrow night. He swore he’d have extra security in place before then and that I was being unreasonable. He was probably right, but I didn’t give a fuck. I wasn’t doing another damn thing to risk Baker’s safety.

  “Why did you bring me to the hospital?” he asked, finally breaking the silent treatment torture he’d put me through since he’d woken up and realized what was happening to him.

  “Because you’d been drugged, Baker,” I answered quietly. We weren’t in a room and the only thing separating us and the next person were some curtains. We couldn’t afford to trust anyone or assume we weren’t being watched or listened to. I motioned around our curtained area to remind him of our surroundings.

  He flipped me off. “I’m not incompetent, Seth. It was a simple question. You knew I’d been drugged and surely had a good idea what it was. I shouldn’t have drunk the cocktail, I know that.” He swore. “I knew better than that. Everybody knows you can get roofied in a club. I was just pissed, I guess.”

  Baker didn’t know the entire story. When we were back at the penthouse and after I’d swept for listening devices, I’d explain that it was much more than him getting a dose of a regular date rape drug. They’d given him two EpiPens of some unidentified drug and then added something to his drink. He had no idea they’d been three steps from loading his unconscious body into their vehicle.

  He had no idea my entire life flashed before my eyes when I realized he’d been taken.

  “We’ll discuss it at home,” I answered softly. “Try to rest as much as you can until they cut you loose.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m not sleepy. Trust me, they got everything out of me. Are you fucking kidding me? I didn’t even think they pumped stomachs anymore. It’s like Frankenstein medicine. Seriously? There was no need. I would have slept it off. No biggie.”

  “UmmmHmmm,” I answered. Thankfully the doctor walked backed into our cubicle before Baker could argue with me.

  “Looks like we’re ready to go home.” He said cheerfully. “Baker, you need to be more careful. Clubs are a dangerous world these days. Keep plenty of fluids going through your system for the next twenty-four hours and take over-the-counter meds for your headache. Other than that, regular activity should be fine.” He patted Baker’s shoulder and shook my hand. “Looks like you were correct, Mr. Wi
lkinson. The gastric lavage did speed up his recovery time. It’d been a while since I’ve performed one.” He hung the clipboard at the end of the bed and said, “You’re free to go, but please be more careful next time.”

  “You?” Baker hissed. “You had them do that to me?”

  Well, shit. That doctor had a goddamned big mouth. “I was worried, Baker. I wanted the poison out of your system as quickly as possible.” When he stood up with his usual grace, I knew I’d made the right decision. The drugs were completely out of his system or he’d be staggering around the room like a drunk.

  “I’m going to pay you back for that one. I want that on the record,” he growled as he reached for his folded clothes that the nurses had laid there during their last check-in. “So help me, I will. I don’t know how, but it’s coming, so don’t be surprised.” He snatched up his leather pants and frowned. “Fuck, I don’t have the energy to stuff myself into these things again. Find me some scrubs to put on.”

  “Bossy, aren’t we?” I teased. “Nurse!” I poked my head through the curtain and tried to get the attention of a nurse. No way was I leaving Baker’s side, even if it was to get him some much more comfortable scrubs. After a few minutes, he was dressed, papers signed, and the nurse was wheeling him toward the parking lot while I checked with the Uber driver to make sure he was waiting for us at the entrance. Baker sent me a questioning look but climbed inside without saying a word and remained silent during the short trip back to the apartment building.

  We rode the elevator in silence and my apprehension level had peaked to its highest level yet. I wasn’t certain of the exact moment that Baker Daley became the most important person in my life, but it had happened—snuck right up on me when I least expected it, I guessed. He was clearly angry with me and I had a feeling the anger was fueled by much more than me requesting they pump his stomach. Did he feel like I let him down?