Mistress's Master: Men in Blue, Book 3

by Jayne Rylon

  “How is she?”

  The woman hadn’t uttered a peep during the entire ride to his friends’ home. Jeremy couldn’t risk admitting her to a hospital in case Morselli found out. But she hadn’t seemed to believe him when he assured her he’d brought her to a nurse. That Lacey would help.

  He guessed she’d been too scared to hope for the impossible—terrified the prospect of escape might be another cruel deception used to break her spirit. God only knew what she had endured.

  “She’s hanging in there.” Lacey ran her hand down his arm, lending him strength. He loved how unafraid of him she was. Same as Izzy. If they had learned his secrets, they never would have relaxed like this around him. “Dehydrated, malnourished, exhausted, exhibiting shock symptoms and bruised all over. Somehow, still optimistic. And so very grateful for your help.”

  His disbelief must have shown through his attempted mask.

  “Truly. You saved her life, Jeremy.”

  He would have objected but Ty cut him off. “She asked to speak to you. After her shower and dinner, Lacey gave her some strong shit. She’s checking out quick. Go ahead before she’s asleep. We can settle stuff afterward. Meet us in the living room when you’re done.”

  Jeremy nodded then strode past his friends.

  Lacey had plugged a nightlight in the outlet near the bed. In the dim glow, the shadows beneath the woman’s eyes seemed enormous. He approached her cautiously, unwilling to wake her if she’d conked out or frighten her if she hadn’t.

  “You really took me away from there?” She winced. “It’s over? I never have to serve him or his friends again?”

  “Christ. I’m so sorry. Please forgive—”

  “Not necessary.” She waved her fingers at his apology as if she lacked the energy to move her entire hand.

  “The hell it isn’t. I used you. I had no right.”

  “You did what you had to. Same as I have.” She grimaced. “Better actually, since you tried to stop me.”

  “I didn’t fight very hard.” He sank into the chair beside her bed, ridiculously pleased when she reached out to touch his knee.

  “You get off on BDSM.” She sighed. “So do I.”

  “How’d you end up…”

  “A slave? I chose to submit.” She huffed then sniffled when her eyes filled for what he’d bet was the first time in months.

  Jeremy scooted closer, rocking her against his chest. Once the flow began it didn’t stop for long minutes. Eventually her sobs quieted to soft hiccups. He didn’t ask for more, but she elected to give it.

  “My M-master used to be kind—stern though attentive. Like you…”

  He cringed.

  She enfolded his hand between her chilled fingers and kissed his knuckles. “That was a compliment.”

  “If he’s so damn great, how could he abandon you? Why didn’t he protect you?” Jeremy sneered as he considered his own failures.

  “He got s-sick.” She shook her head slowly. “No. Hooked on drugs. I had to remind myself it was a disease, something killing my Master as surely as if he’d contracted AIDS or had cancer. The chemical ate him from the inside. It attacked the man I loved and destroyed him cell by cell. There’s a substance. If it has an official name, I’ve never heard it. Morselli’s staff and his prisoners call it Sex Offender. It’s supposed to be some kind of libido-enhancer. It’s potent. Unimaginably addictive. I think it makes you crazy if you do too much.”

  “I know.” Jeremy winced.

  “You’ve taken it?” She would have scooted to the opposite edge of the bed—or hobbled from the room—if he hadn’t stopped her.

  “Not willingly.” He cursed. “It’s a long story. I got dosed by accident.”

  “Did you hurt anyone?” Her lips trembled. “It wouldn’t have been your fault under the influence. My Master didn’t mean the things he did to me. I have to believe that.”

  “We were in the middle of a big case. When it wrapped, I locked myself in my apartment for a few days. Called in sick to work until I felt normal again.” He rubbed his temples as he remembered the dreams, the voices urging him to find a partner, any woman, to slake his desire with. He’d like to believe he could have controlled himself. Like Razor and Izzy must have. But he couldn’t be sure.

  “You’re strong. A good man. A good Master.” The woman linked her fingers with his. He met her gaze when she squeezed his knuckles lightly. “Mine was too. Except for his weakness. He couldn’t fight it. In the end, he traded me to Morselli for a stash of Sex Offender he could never have afforded. He overdosed the same night, within hours. I never said goodbye. Morselli confiscated the rest of the drugs and refused to let me leave.”

  “Shit. I’m so sorry.” Jeremy knuckled another tear from the corner of one of her soft gray eyes.

  “Almost all the other women in the private holding cells had similar stories. Morselli is smart. He doesn’t touch the stuff. Unless it’s to use it for leverage. Power—from money, women or men—that’s what he’s after. Nothing matters to him but the rush from what I could tell.”

  “He made you suffer for resisting him.” Jeremy didn’t have to ask.

  “Nothing he did hurt as much as it would have to kneel for a man who didn’t deserve it.” She cringed. “I thought he’d destroyed my life. Everything I knew about myself, my Master, my nature felt like a lie. I was so lost. Ready to surrender. When you took charge of me, everything clicked into place. Apparently even months of torture couldn’t alter my wiring. You helped me rediscover myself. Does that mean I deserved what…happened to me? Am I responsible for the things I did to stay alive?”

  The hitch accompanying her genuine curiosity had him stroking her cheek in an instant. “Never. That’s bullshit.”

  “So why is it any different for you? You’re a worthy Master.” She covered his hand with hers. The drugs Lacey had administered in the drip bag began to kick in. Her speech slurred, and her lids drooped as he considered her wisdom.

  “I suppose it’s not. Thanks. I still wish I hadn’t added to your burdens.” He scrubbed his beard. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Yes, sir.” Her response came softer as she faded out.

  “What’s your name?”

  Her bright smile gave him hope she’d recover with time and care. After the horrors she’d borne, he respected her resilience.

  “I’m Zina.”

  “Nice.” He nodded. “Sounds like the warrior princess.”

  “Everyone says that.” She giggled. “I guess now it’s sort of true.”

  “It is. I’m Master Jeremy. If you ever need anything—”

  “Are you looking for a sub?” Her cheeks flushed a delightful pink.

  His aspirations lay within arm’s reach. He could care for this generous woman so easily. All he had to do was collar her. A Master without a slave was a pitiful thing. And still…

  Fuck him. Fuck his stubborn heart.

  “I’m sorry, no.” He petted her damp hair. “There’s someone…”

  “The woman from the club? The switch?”

  “What!” Thank God for the dim light. His pupils couldn’t have dilated much more.

  “The woman who performed tonight. I think her name is Lily.” Zina yawned before continuing. “I’ve met her a couple times. She’s nice. She snuck me food and medicine. Tried to help.”

  “Why did you call her a switch?” Jeremy’s heart pounded so hard he nearly missed her dwindling whisper.

  “Because you’re a Dom, through and through. If you’re interested… Plus, there’s something about her. She anticipates her slaves too well. She perceives too much.” Zina closed her eyes and murmured, “She’s one of us. But not.”

  “Yes, yes. That’s exactly it.” Jeremy acted on instinct. He brushed a kiss over her parted lips. “I can’t tell you how thankful I am we met tonight, even if I hate the circumstances that led us to each other. I’m here for you, Z. No matter what.”

  “Thank you.” She tipped her face into the pillow
. “For now it’s enough to sleep without worrying.”

  “You’re safe here. Sweet dreams.” He sat beside her, monitoring the subtle rise and fall of her quilt-covered chest as though he could ward off any negative energy that might plague her. Eventually satisfied she rested comfortably, he tucked her in, bussed her cheek then headed for his comrades.

  They had to make this right.

  Jeremy stalked down the rear staircase into the kitchen. He could use a beer or three before joining the crowd strategizing in low, urgent exchanges next door. Their consideration for the refugee he’d entrusted to their care didn’t surprise him.

  Light spilled across the slate flooring when he cracked the stainless-steel fridge and reached for a bottle of microbrew from the six-pack on the second shelf. Clean white illumination from the bulb hanging above a leftover pizza box highlighted a bulky man at the kitchen table.

  Jeremy nearly gave himself whiplash when his head swiveled.

  “Jesus, Clark.” The door shut harder than he intended. His free hand instinctively fisted. “What are you doing sitting in the dark?”

  “Waiting for you.” Mason Clark, the third angle in Lacey and Tyler’s triad, chuckled. “Take a seat for a second, would you?”

  “Sure, dickhead.” He glared as he straddled a chair at the butcher-block table. “But you could have asked like a normal human being instead of lurking in the shadows like a serial killer.”

  “I suppose.” Mason shrugged. “Where would be the fun in that?”

  “Did you have a point?” Unease settled in his gut. He had to figure out how to stop Lily from putting herself in danger. If she joined Morselli’s staff, Jeremy couldn’t possibly provide a sliver of protection. Every minute he spent spinning his wheels was a moment she might not have to waste.

  “I do.” Mason, the unofficial leader of their squad, rocked his chair onto two legs. His massive arms crossed over his chest. “Before you head in there and start making a bunch of plans you intend to throw out the window at the first opportunity, I thought I’d tell you I get it.”

  “Huh?” Jeremy checked his watch. Fuck. It was nearly two in the morning already. Would Lily still be at the club?

  “Focus, JRad,” Mason barked. “This is exactly the shit I’m talking about. You need to pull your head out of your ass and remember, for once, that you’re not the Lone-fucking-Ranger. Yeah, you’re a geek. You don’t have a partner like Ty and me. You don’t do patrols like Matt, Clint or Razor. But you’re one of us. A part of our team.”

  “I… Uh, right.” Jeremy deserved the lecture. He’d blazed past procedure, rules and better judgment on a whim dozens of times in the past. When he saw a solution, he snatched it even if it meant venturing out alone, beyond boundaries. Paperwork came later.

  “You and I have more in common than you might think. When it comes to what’s ours, we might have some control issues. At least, that’s what Ty and Lacey tell me.” He snarled. “And that’s why I’m sure this assignment is going to suck donkey dick for you.”

  When Jeremy would have denied it, Mason spoke over him.

  “Last year…with the threats to Lacey, I didn’t always keep my shit under control. You were there to set me straight. I’ll never forget you took her call that night, pieced the last of the puzzle together and organized the cavalry. Now you need to let us return the favor. Objectivity is impossible when you’re this close to the action.”

  “What are you saying?” If Mason attempted to prevent him from aiding Lily however he saw fit, the cop wasted his breath.

  “Only this… You won’t be able to help yourself from diving into the deep end of the shitstorm pool. Before you do anything crazy, tell me.” Mason’s chair clunked to the floor as he leaned forward to grip Jeremy’s tense upper arm. “We’ll cover your ass and haul you out if you start to flounder. Lily too. No matter what, JRad.”

  Jeremy cleared his throat. He nodded. “In that case, there’s something you should know.”

  “Oh, son of a bitch. Already?” Mason grinned. “I’m glad I didn’t wait for you to sneak out the back door.”

  He didn’t dare deny he’d considered the option. “Things are different these days. I won’t do anything to put you, Ty or Razor in danger. Lacey and Isabella need you.”

  “There’s always Matt and Clint to help in the field. The rest of us can work behind the scenes. We all contribute in our own way. How many times has Lacey sewn one of us up? Think about all the research you’ve done, legitimate or otherwise.”

  “Fair enough.” Some of the pressure building behind Jeremy’s eyes evaporated. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been. “Maybe we should take this into the living room. No need to repeat myself.”

  “I’m glad you see it that way too. First…” Mason smirked then swiped Jeremy’s brew. “You might want to grab another bottle.”

  “That really wasn’t a win, Clark. It’s your house, your beer.”

  “Good point.” He scowled as he headed for his lovers and the rest of their friends.

  “Mason?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks.”

  “Anytime, JRad.”

  He took a second to compose himself as he plucked not one, but two, of the brown glass bottles from the fridge. It’d be foolish to dismiss help if it improved his odds of ending this cycle of destruction and removing Lily from the line of fire.

  A hush descended over the ever-growing assortment of their eclectic yet tight family. Lacey curled up with Tyler while Mason towered over them from his place at the back of the oversized leather recliner they shared. Razor lounged on the floor with his shoulders propped against the coffee table and Izzy snugged against his chest, between his thighs. There should have been plenty of room for Jeremy to plop between Matt and Clint on the comfy couch except the duo sprawled, even more than usual.

  It all clicked into place when he noticed the shy woman squeezed between them. She huddled in her cute sci-fi themed scrubs, trying to make herself as small as possible.

  “Hello, Jambrea.” He smiled at her obvious discomfort. When would Lacey’s co-worker realize Matt and Clint were ready to fight each other to the death for a date with her? The partners’ constant bickering had driven them all insane for months. Starting when they’d met the sassy nurse, after Razor had been shot. Their initial interest had escalated by degrees into a full-on crush. Too bad neither would grant the other a fair chance.

  Why couldn’t the wrinkles in Jeremy’s relationship be so easy to iron out? No reason the cops couldn’t share and leave them all happy. Hell, ménage seemed pretty fantastic for Lacey, Mason and Ty.

  “Jeremy.” She waved, squeaking when her fingers brushed the tribal tattoo encircling Matt’s encroaching bicep. “Here, take my spot. I brought over some supplies for your…guest. I heard she’s sleeping now so I should probably skedaddle.”

  “Did you forget your car wouldn’t start the last time you tried to leave?” Clint snagged her, banding his forearm around her waist. He dragged her onto his lap.

  “I’ll take you home. As soon as we’re finished,” Matt promised.

  “Don’t you have to drop your sister off at the airport at five?” Clint feigned casual interest. “No worries, I’ll drive Jambi so you don’t have to rush.”

  Jambrea was too busy gawking and squirming in an attempt to evade Clint to notice Matt flip his partner the bird. She didn’t miss the effect of her struggles for long though. When her hip brushed Clint’s crotch, she froze. Her stare flitted around the room as though panicked they might notice their friend’s arousal.

  Matt glared.

  Jeremy did them all a favor by sinking between the men before their petty one-upping could deteriorate into a fistfight sure to smash at least one of Lacey’s upgraded furnishings and wake Zina. Clint grinned and Matt pouted.

  Both objected when Jambrea protested, “Let me up. I’m going to squash you.”

  “Shush.” She quieted beneath the intensity of Jeremy’s stare. �
��Don’t be ridiculous, Jambi. You’ll cause a riot. I need them to pay attention for a little bit.”

  Both Matt and Clint blinked at him when Jambrea responded to his subtle authority. Maybe they’d figure out to take the reins sooner or later.

  “What’s up, JRad?” Tyler rubbed his thumb in broad arcs across Lacey’s knee.

  “An email from Black Lily showed up in my inbox this afternoon. One of their promos for a special event.”

  “Don’t you have to be a member to receive those notices?” Izzy tilted her head.

  “Uh…” he stalled.

  “Never mind.” She rolled her eyes. “Dumb question. So you’ve been hacking into their systems to spy on my sister. What did you find out?”

  He didn’t tell her about the security camera feeds and the nights he’d spent watching Lily in action while she amused herself and her guests in the common areas of the club. It’d taken all his willpower not to invade her privacy by streaming the sessions she conducted behind closed doors.

  “The invite was for a party in Lily’s honor. A send-off.”

  “What?” Tyler squinted. “You stopped her from leaving, right?”

  “Not exactly.” Jeremy ran his hand through his hair.

  Jambrea surprised him when she laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  Did everyone know he craved the infamous Mistress? Probably. He was no more subtle than Matt or Clint dogging their cute nurse when it came to Lily. “I tried to call her. Email. Text. Everything except freaking smoke signals. She ignored me. I left a message, told her I’d be at the show. Asked her to save me a seat.”

  “You went to the club? Alone?” Mason cursed. “I should have given you my speech yesterday.”

  “Wouldn’t have hurt.” Jeremy nodded. “There were some tense moments tonight. I could have used backup. In the end, I didn’t talk to Lily. I saw her. She…performed.”

  “Do I want to hear this?” Isabella winced even as Matt and Clint leaned closer.

  “Not so much.” He slumped in his seat. “Hell, I don’t really care to rehash it myself. I mean Lily was spectacular. But…I’m afraid she’s in too deep. Things are evolving. She reserved a place for me, beside Tony Morselli. Not a chance in hell that was an accident.”