* * * *
Ellis was going to make them pay, the bastards who’d murdered his twin. His only family. He shuddered, seeing again the hole appearing in Drew’s forehead, how his whole face changed, blanked, how he’d jerked as the other bullets hit. He fell.
Should have been me. I should have let him go first. Safe back at his mountain cabin, Ellis raged, kicking the walls, kicking the furniture, kicking the sluts—the two that Drew had delivered just a few days before.
Ellis had shackled their collars to bolts in the rough wooden floor. Purple splotches ranged up and down their bodies. One had ragged breathing. Maybe had busted ribs.
Like he gave a fuck.
Drew had saved his life. Ellis had been easy meat there on the fence, and that fucking cop would have shot him if his twin hadn’t shot first.
“Somerfeld’s dead.” The bastard cops.
Ellis’s head buzzed as angrily as if the bullets had hit him instead and were raging inside him like angry wasps. He felt like he did when he stayed around the chaos of people and noise too long. Worse. This was worse.
How could he live without Drew? His family. His brother.
Ellis raised his hands to his head, realizing exactly how ruined he was. He had no money, no credit cards, no job.
But Drew had cash. Kept spare credit cards in his safe.
Fuck. What should he do? He needed someone to tell him what to do. Who to kill. What to burn.
But Drew was gone. Ellis’s rage flamed higher, burning through his insides like the fire that had scarred his face. The one he had set with his twin’s help. Standing in the bedroom, watching the fire, they’d listened to their father screaming. Begging.
Indeedy yeah, begging. He chuckled, the memory so vivid he could almost taste the fat-laden ash. His father had needed to die.
Drew’s murderers needed to die. All of them. There’d been one in the backyard, and the two smug-faced cops in the window—he remembered all their faces.
A stillness settled inside him as he realized he knew what to do. What to burn.
Them. All three of them.
His gaze fell on the two sluts on the floor, one gasping with pink froth on her lips. He only needed one for what he had planned.
Chapter Twenty
“There we go, Glock. Ready for action.” Chatting with the cat in the quiet, empty house, Sally screwed back on the four-switch outlet plate located in the game room.
The first two switches hadn’t changed and would still turn on the overhead and track lighting. But now the third switch regulated the well-hidden audio receivers for her customized, voice-activated software.
Perched on the mantel over the fireplace, Glock observed, occasionally taking a break to groom down an obstinate section of fur. He’d expressed his displeasure with the paw-clogging sawdust in the still-being-remodeled room.
But Sally was enjoying being part of the progress. The hardwood floor was in. Walls were a textured sand color. They still had to put a ceiling fan in over where the pool table would go. Eventually a bar would curve out from one corner, but the building had gotten no further than the framework of two-by-fours.
“So, let’s see if R2D3 is awake and listening for commands.” All orders would have to be preceded by her voice saying, Please, please, please. She turned toward the receiver and said, “Please, please, please. Are you awake?”
“I’m awake, darling,” came her own voice from the wall speaker of the in-house intercom.
And she scores! Sally whooped, doing a gangnam-style dance. Unfortunately, she had only two command responses set up so far—just this one and the recording she’d done with Gabi the day after she’d come up with the idea. Now that had been a wonderful drunken time.
But once she got this going, it would really liven the place up.
Something sure needed to. A depressed Dominant was not a pretty sight, and both of her guys were majorly grumpy.
They had good reason though. In the hospital, they’d been so pleased that the Harvest Association was finished.
The very next day, Drew Somerfeld’s condo had burned. In the ashes, they’d found a metal safe—opened. The creepy arsonist was still on the loose, and no one had been able to figure out who he was.
So they’d left the search to the New Yorkers and brought Vance back home to Tampa to recuperate. After nearly two weeks, he was pretty much back to normal.
Thank God. Sally rolled her eyes. Every time Vance had trouble moving, Galen had gotten all quiet. Because of his bum knee, he hadn’t been there before Vance was shot, and he blamed himself. As if he could have prevented Vance’s getting hurt. She snorted. He’d just have gotten his own ass shot off. Christ in a computer, but her beloved stubborn Doms sure had I-am-God complexes when it came to protecting other people—probably caused by the overload of testosterone in their gorgeous bodies.
As she picked up her small tool case, she sighed. She’d been trying to help out. Doing the household chores so they could concentrate on work. Making sure they ate regularly. Comforting them. Nothing had worked.
She couldn’t even coax Galen into taking her on in World of Warcraft, even though he usually won. Vance hadn’t watched a game on television since he’d been back. She’d made a kick-ass three-layer chocolate cake last night—Vance’s favorite—and he hadn’t eaten a bite. Galen hadn’t taken the canoe out at all.
Something had to be done.
After flipping the switch off, she scooped up the cat and headed for her room to tuck the tools away. “So, Master Glock, do you have any brilliant ideas on how to use the system to screw with Fed heads,” she asked him on the way up the stairs.
He gave her an ear flick indicating he didn’t think it could be very difficult. They were only humans, after all.
“This is true. I’ll figure something good out.” And she wouldn’t use the software until then.
In the meantime, she’d resort to a less ingenious prank. She nuzzled the Glock’s furry head. “This is your warning, fuzz face. You might want to stay somewhere out of the way tonight.”
Cuz she was going to do her best to break her Doms out of their downward spiral. Ready or not, Master Grumpy Pants and Master Frowny Face were going to get it.
* * * *
Vance stripped and tossed his clothes toward the corner of his bedroom where yesterday’s clothes were scattered on the dark blue carpet. Pretty sloppy. His ex would have had fits. He frowned.
Only one day’s worth? He hadn’t done his laundry since they’d returned from New York…which meant Sally must have taken it on.
Jesus, they hadn’t brought her here to be a maid.
He rubbed his neck wearily, wanting to curse his brains out. Couldn’t he fucking do anything right? Got himself shot. Even worse, he’d allowed a criminal to escape. Sure he’d done the best he could, but he still felt responsible.
Even worse, Galen was fucking morose. Probably blaming himself for not being Super Fed.
And neither of them was seeing to their submissive. Hell, they’d taken her on to help her, not ignore her. Certainly not to have that beautiful, brilliant woman turn into their slave.
She wasn’t happy either.
He sighed. He and Galen had been spending days and nights working, surfacing only to watch an hour of late-night news. Hardly speaking.
An hour ago, Sally had said she was tired and wanted the night to herself. Not good. Usually either he and/or Galen joined her in her bedroom. Even when she had her menses and didn’t want to fuck, she liked having someone to cuddle with and to put a warm hand on her cramping belly.
She’d never wanted to sleep alone before. Yes, something was up with her. And he didn’t have the time or the energy to stop and figure it out.
Fuck. His back was almost back to normal. No longer ached as if he’d been run over by a train. Just let him get a good night’s sleep—one without nightmares of the dead cop and gunfire and previous shootouts and blood and… Yeah, if he could sleep, he’d be able t
o pick up the reins of the D/s relationship.
After brushing his teeth, he lifted the toilet lid to take a piss. “What the fuck.”
Words were printed on toilet paper draped over the bowl. Dear Master Frowny Face, keep on swimming. Life will get better. The water, tinted light blue, contained two toy fish, swimming in happy circles around the bowl.
Jesus. He started to laugh, knowing exactly who’d sabotaged his bathroom—one little impertinent brat.
GALEN STRIPPED AND gathered up his clothes. Exhaustion weighed down his shoulders. Seemed like his life had been playing the same tune for the past year. “Two steps forward, and one step back.”
Every break they caught was followed by some disaster. To have the damned arsonist be the one who escaped… God, he couldn’t live like this.
He hadn’t been able to sleep since his partner’d been hurt. Vance could have been killed. Could still be killed.
Galen opened the closet door and— “What the hell!”
Just inside the closet sat a miniature potted tree. A stuffed orange kitten was hanging by its little paws from one branch. A toy cat? He looked up and read the banner that hung from the closet ceiling. Hang in there, Master Grumpy Pants. Life will get better.
God. Damn. His blood still churned through his veins at the surprise. He took a step back and started to laugh.
* * * *
Still grinning, Vance left his room and saw his partner, his face flushed and the remnants of laughter.
Galen gave him the same look back. “She got you too?”
“Master Frowny Face.” Vance’s lips quirked. “And you?”
“Master Grumpy Pants,” Galen said ruefully.
Grumpy Pants? Laughter ripped through Vance so hard he felt as if he’d herniate a gut. “Fuck, she’s out of control.”
“I love that little brat,” Galen said under his breath.
Vance felt the warmth in his heart. “Oh yeah.”
“Not sure whether to spank her or fuck her.”
“I think—” A blast of icy water hit Vance in the chest, shocking the breath right out of him. “Fuck!”
Water splashed off Galen. His gasp turned into a low growl. “Spank, for sure.”
“I’m on it.” Vance charged down the hall, sucked in air as he got struck again, and put his head down and bulled through. Freezing water hit his stomach and soaked his jeans. His balls shrank, probably to the size of marbles.
“She’s got a water gun,” Vance snapped. And she’d loaded the fucking thing with ice water. Jesus. He checked over his shoulder for backup.
Galen had grabbed his cane and was a few steps behind.
A stream of water went past Vance to hit Galen…and drizzled to a stop.
With an unhappy eep, their assailant fled down the stairs. Her skin—including a curvy, jiggling ass—shone white in the dim stairwell lighting.
Despite the freezing jeans, Vance’s cock hardened.
“Naked war games?” Galen huffed a laugh. “I’m in.”
Sally disappeared into the darkness of the ground floor.
After reaching the foot of the stairs, Vance waited until Galen caught up. “Plan?”
“Hold on.” Galen flipped on the game room light, studied the floor, and pointed to drops of water heading into the dining room. “The perp’s rifle is leaking.”
Vance led the way, following the wet trail into the kitchen. When he stepped out the back door, the humid night air wrapped around him. He listened and heard nothing except the frogs and crickets on the shore and the hoot of a barred owl.
In the light of the full moon, he saw glittering drops of water in a line toward the pool.
Something moved to the right. Vance spun—and saw two furry gray ears. Yellow eyes.
Glock was watching the insanity from a patio chair near the pool. Good thing Vance hadn’t had a squirt gun or that would be one offended feline.
Just past Glock’s chair, Sally knelt on the edge of the pool, filling her gun.
“Now there’s a target,” Galen said under his breath. “Can you pull off a tackle without hurting your back?”
Vance grinned. “Just watch me.” He charged across the deck and, rather than a tackle, grabbed her as he dived past into the water.
She gave a startled squeak before they went under.
Oh yeah. She was slick and squirmy, and finding one of her breasts under his hand, he closed his fingers. Fuck, he loved the feel of her.
As they surfaced, the underwater lights came on, and then Galen cannonballed into the pool, causing an explosion of water.
Holding his prisoner tightly with her back against his chest, Vance swam toward the shallower end and stopped at a depth where he and Galen would have footing. Wasn’t it a shame that Sally was short and her feet wouldn’t reach the bottom there?
Vance wrapped one hand around her upper arm—to keep her safe—and the other stayed on her beautifully plump breast where the nipple was so distended it poked into his palm.
Her ass wiggled against his cock. Jesus.
“Having trouble subduing the criminal?” Galen grinned at him. “I’ll help.” When he slid a hand between her legs, she jolted.
Galen fisted her hair and pulled her head back so they could both see her face. “You got our attention, pet. Was there something you wanted to say?”
“I-I-no…” Her voice shook so hard Vance froze. Was she crying? Fuck, had he hurt her?
Or…she was giggling. Giggling so violently she was choking with it.
Vance shook his head and grinned.
Galen started to laugh.
DESPITE A MOMENTARY worry they might be furious with her, Sally couldn’t stop giggling. She had too many moments to savor, like the shock on Vance’s face as the ice water hit him. And Galen’s face when he saw her with the water gun.
When they’d left their rooms, she’d heard their laughter—Galen’s deep and rich, Vance’s rougher and infectious. They could still see the fun side of life and were no longer on their way to zombie-land.
However, there was someone who was mad. A gray form showed in the dim lights. Fur matted down with water, a very indignant cat jumped off a poolside chair and stalked toward the house. Well, heck, she’d warned him—his fault if he didn’t listen.
“Sorry, Glock,” Galen called and received a slit-eyed glare in return. “Guess I caused some collateral damage. But we got the perp, eh, Vance?” Galen’s hand tightened in her hair. “What should we do with this little miscreant?” His voice had gone lower, the deep timbre vibrating across her skin, wakening every nerve in her body.
Vance’s big hands on her upper arm and breast burned into her skin. “I could suggest a few things,” he whispered into her ear.
Galen’s gaze was on her face as he palmed her mound and stroked his fingers over her clit and labia.
Oh, oh, oh. She couldn’t keep from rocking into his hand. He knew just where to touch her to drive her straight into need.
“Someone is getting very wet,” he murmured.
“Duh. Someone is in the water.” Her attempt at flippancy was spoiled by her breathlessness. Annoyed, she tried to push away, but her feet didn’t reach the bottom, and they had her well restrained.
Intimately restrained.
Vance’s chest warmed her back, and his thick erection pressed against her bottom. God, she wanted him inside her.
Releasing his grip on her arm, he claimed her other breast to scissor his fingers around the nipples. “I love it when they’re all tiny and hard.”
Galen snorted. “Have you ever seen Sally’s breasts in a state you didn’t love?”
“That would be a no.” Vance nibbled her shoulders, sending quivers through her. “Now how should we pay her back for name-calling and ice water?”
“Well…” Galen considered, never releasing her hair. He slid a finger inside her, in and out, slowly. Wonderfully. She trembled as her need kicked up a notch. His lips curved. “I was ready for bed before this litt
le subbie interrupted me. I’m still pretty tired. How about you, bro?”
He was calling Vance bro a lot now. That was so cool.
Vance derailed that thought by saying, “Exhausted. If she has this much energy, she should have to do some work.”
“Ayuh.” When Galen’s eyes darkened to pure black lava, Sally knew she’d do anything he wanted. “Run to the cabana and fetch a condom and lube for me, pet. Pick out a waterproof bullet vibe as well.”
She gaped at him. They hadn’t used a vibrator on her before. “I… Yes, Sir.”
They released her, and she shivered as the cool water slid where their warm hands had been. Vance lifted her out of the water and onto the side.
When she returned, Vance still stood in the water.
In the corner of the pool, Galen reclined on the concrete stairs with a chair cushion behind his back. The water bobbed around the base of his very erect shaft.
“A cock sticking up out of the water? It looks so perverted.” She handed him the lube and condom and vibe.
He grinned. “Guess you’d better hide it.” He twirled his finger in a circle for her to turn.
“Excuse me?” He didn’t want her to straddle him?
Galen rolled on a condom and thickly lubed it. “No questions. Sit on me, Sally.”
But. That meant he’d take her ass…now? From that angle? Her feet didn’t move.
With firm hands on her shoulders, Vance turned her around and guided her up a step so she stood between Galen’s legs. “Bend your knees, sweetheart.”
Why did this feel so much less…controlled? As she complied, Vance pulled her butt cheeks apart, and she felt Galen’s cock press on her asshole.
Ouch! She tried to stand, but Vance was bent over her, a barrier to escape.
Galen guided himself in, working past the ring of muscle. Slowly. They were always careful, but… Oh. My. God.
The position was different, and she hadn’t come a couple of times first. “What are you doing? I don’t like this.”
“Ah, but we do,” Vance said. His mouth tipped up slightly, but his gaze was that of a Dom, reminding her that sometimes a submissive was pampered and sometimes she was…not.
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