Interest piqued, Finn considered it. He was aware Ava waited for him, just as the chopper pilot awaited his instructions. A few more minutes wouldn't hurt. “A partnership?”
“Yeah. I want to be part of something, boss, and know I have a stake in it.”
He understood that all too well. Honestly, he couldn’t see a reason to turn Ash’s proposal down, but there were more pressing issues to deal with. “I think we can work with that. Can you wait until we sort this shit out? We can sit down one night, hash out some details. Come up with some proposals that work for us both. Write down your ideas and we’ll discuss them, then draw up the paperwork.”
“Really? You mean it?” Elation filled that young face, honest and eager.
In answer, Finn just held out his hand.
Chapter 10
Finn
When Friday finally rolled around, Finn could have kissed it.
Since the discovery of Thomas's treachery on Tuesday, Finn's well-organized world had deteriorated into shit. He'd spent hours scanning paperwork and reports alongside Ash and even Ava when she wasn't cooing over her prized baby and feeding her every hour. Rage was a tame emotion compared to what simmered in his belly as the true extent of Thomas's actions started to come to light.
From what Finn could gather, Thomas had arranged for two young bulls to be loaded onto the east-bound transporter instead of the west-bound, three years ago. The sneaky bastard had let them mature, then bred heifers far too young. From the records Ash found buried in the computer, Thomas had been selective in which pairs he'd kept and which he'd sold.
Heifers which calved easily had been kept and retained into his “own” herd, their original tags cut off and replaced with a herd number registered to Thomas. The young females which hadn't had an easy time calving—which was a fucking appalling number in Finn's opinion—had been sent to slaughter as soon as their calves were weaned or sold with calves at foot. And those that hadn't survived the birthing process at all...
Finn steeled himself against the furious wave of nausea that had plagued him since the mass grave had been spotted by the chopper crew on Wednesday. An open grave barely a mile away from the barns. The lazy assholes had made no attempt to cover the carcasses, to bury them. Bodies left for the carrion and the predators, creating a lure for the wolves, bears, and mountain lions—all the carnivores any sane rancher actively tried to discourage from coming onto the land.
Every action Thomas had taken went directly against Finn's own code.
As yet, Finn didn't have a plausible explanation as to why the two bulls had been left behind, other than Thomas's crew had run out of time and cut their losses with what they had. Four hundred head had been recovered from Pearson's ranch, all with Finn's tags still in their ears, and the cops had apprehended six of the hands working for Thomas.
Thomas himself was unaccounted for, as were the other three ranch hands and a dozen horses.
It was taking its toll on him, Finn admitted that. Though he kept his temper in check, he knew Ava had picked up the subtle differences in his behavior. His head barely touched his pillow for more than an hour, his brain too busy to rest. He was going to get his horses back and see the men responsible rotted for the rest of their miserable lives in prison. Far, far away from the comforts their stolen money offered.
He paced the porch impatiently, checking his watch. Ava was in the kitchen, no doubt giving the calf one last feed before they left. His sub was not happy about leaving the calf in Ash's capable hands for the weekend. He didn't know quite how she'd pulled it off, but somehow he'd ended up with a calf having the run of the ground floor of his house—kitchen, living room, his office...nowhere was safe from the Malamute-sized lunatic Ava called Lulu.
Frickin' Lulu.
For the weekend, the apple of Ava's eyes was going to live like a normal calf, in a comfy pen of straw with another orphan for company. There wasn't a cat in hell's chance Finn was about to let Lulu remain unsupervised in the house, much to Ava's outrage. She was taking the adopted momma role very seriously and, to Finn's approval, was finding it enjoyable.
Even at two, three, four, and five in the morning.
Finn looked at his watch again, then strode to the screen door. He yanked it open, pushed at the inner door, then bellowed Ava's name. “Come on, darlin'! We need to leave.”
“You go,” she shouted back. “I'll catch up with you next week.”
He snorted. His little dove wasn't eager to be captured and flown to D.C. Not even bribing her with a spa day with Rosie and two nights at Black Light had sweetened the deal. “Ava, Madeline is not going to poke through your head over coffee. It's literally an opportunity to meet her and see if we like her.”
“Well, I don't.” God, was she pouting? He loved it when she pouted; those lips were so accessible for nibbling. “What if she changes everything? What if we lose all this because she sticks her shrinky fingers in my head and muddles all the wires?”
Finn stifled a laugh and walked into the kitchen, keeping his eye out for any “little” accidents Lulu might have left on the tiles. “Darlin', it's therapy, not brain surgery. She's not going to yank words out of your mouth.” His boots thudded on the hardwood floor in the hallway. He paused, waiting for her to say something so he could pinpoint her hiding place. “There's a lot of what if's in the future. What if aliens invade the planet? What if earthquakes shake the world and destroy humanity?”
Where was the damn calf? That heifer was rarely far apart from Ava.
“Ava, do not make me spank your ass when we get on the plane. Do you really want to meet Madeline feeling like you're sittin' on hot coals?” He literally had five minutes to find her, grab their bags, and wait outside for Arthur to collect them for the ride to the private airfield. “Show yourself now or there's going to be huge consequences.”
He heard the snick of a door closing and spun slowly on his heel. Rolling his eyes, he grabbed hold of the closet handle and pulled. He met with some resistance, dragging Ava out as she clung to the door and tried to pull it shut. “Seriously? If you feel you need to hide from me to avoid an issue, Ava, we have a problem.”
“It's not your head she's delving into,” she mumbled as he wrapped his arm around her waist to support her and pried her fingers off the inner handle. “If we're late, she'll think we changed our minds.”
“If we're late, she'll understand. If we don't show up at all without telling her, she'll think we're rude,” he chastised. He was braced for his phone pinging with a text as he set her on her feet and held her in place with his hands on her shoulders. “After what happened on Tuesday, Ava, I think Madeline is aware of how scared you are. I know I am. I don't want to push you into doing something you don't want to do, but this is me, here and now, begging you to get your bag, get on that fucking plane, and do something that terrifies you. Because not doing it leaves me facing what terrifies me every damn day.”
Defiant blue eyes lowered to the floor between them. “Can't I just wear mittens for the rest of my life?”
Mittens? Where the hell did that come from? “How are mittens going to help us in this situation, darlin'?”
“Well I can't grip anything in mittens so I can't hurt myself.” Apparently, to Ava, that sounded completely logical. Finn could see where she was going with that line of thinking and only shook his head in exasperation as she lifted her head and smiled beseechingly at him.
“You get a point for the idea and a demerit for the execution, Ava. If you can't grip anything, you can't do anything. You'd have to reteach yourself everything you know just to avoid sitting and talking with a nice lady who wants to help you. Besides,” he added in a slow drawl, “you can still pick things up with mittens.”
“You can?” Her smile faded and she glanced down at her hands, flexing her fingers as though remembering what mittens felt like. “Oh. Right.”
Finn's phone buzzed right on time, trilling loudly with a text. He ignored it, covering her hands with his and
squeezing them. “I wouldn't ask you to do this if I didn't believe you need it, Ava. Hell, if she's got room for one more, I'm inclined to have a session or two. Building a future isn't just about sex and love and marriage, is it? You're my submissive and that requires a level of trust I can't imagine. We can't build on top of the ruins of the past, darlin'. Sooner or later, the foundation sinks and the whole fucking place comes crashing down around our ears. If we want to build a solid relationship, one that's gonna last us till the end of our damn days, God willing, we need to stop the voices.”
“What if she can't?” The fear in her voice was so much louder than the words themselves.
He nudged her chin up and gave her the truth. “I don't know, Ava. I can't answer that. But I think you'll wish you'd given it a try if you let fear rule you now. Besides, we're not focusing on meeting Madeline. You and I have a date at Black Light, little dove.”
She sighed, shuffled her feet, squirmed. Before that pretty mouth opened again, Finn knew she wasn't fighting him anymore. His thumbs stroked her collarbones over the light blue cotton shirt she wore. “My bag is in the closet,” she told him with a little wave of her fingers toward the open door. “It's packed already.”
“Good girl.” He kissed the top of her head, wincing when his phone went off again. “And the calf, Ava? Where's Lulu?”
Her smile was a little guilty, a little smug, and a whole lot amused. “She may have locked herself in your office...”
Oh fuck. Finn closed his eyes and prayed for the calf's sake, she wasn't trying to eat his potted lavender again. It wouldn't surprise him, considering how quiet the noisy little beast was being. “Get your bag and your jacket, Ava. Arthur's waiting for us, and he gets fractious when people make him late. I will grab the calf and put her in the mudroom for Ash to collect in...anytime now,” he murmured in surprise as his friend walked into the kitchen with a rat-a-tat-tat on the door. “Excellent timing, Ash.”
The blond head popped around the door frame. “Maybe for me, but your ass is grass, boss. Arthur's standing beside the truck looking like he's ready to chew glass and nails. How many minutes are you running late?”
“I dread to think,” Finn sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Ava, go. One of us in the vehicle might placate him for a few more minutes. Ash and I will retrieve Lulu from my office, and I'll be right behind you.”
“You got the calf doing paperwork now?” Ash murmured.
Finn stepped back and watched with an eagle eye as Ava sulked her way into the depths of the closet and came back out with her suitcase in hand. Casting a forlorn look toward his office door, she started to obey Finn's orders, then dug into her pocket and pulled out a rumpled piece of paper. She thrust it into Ash's hand, then fled.
“I'm scared to read it,” Ash laughed as they headed for the office. “She might be threatening to castrate me if anything happens to her pride and joy while you're in the city.”
“Castration will be the least of your concerns,” Finn warned him. “We say don't get between a cow and calf if you value your life. I'm amending that to, don't get between Ava and hers. She had a colossal temper tantrum when I told her the calf was living in the barn for the weekend; I honest to God thought I'd unleashed the Kraken.” He paused outside the office, his hand on the handle. “You reading it now or waiting until we're out of reach?”
Paper rustled as Ash unfolded it. His eyes scanned the paper, crinkling at the corners as he struggled not to laugh. He pressed his lips together, then grinned. “She's somethin' else, boss, she really is. Got me a to-do list for that baby of hers.”
Finn pinched the bridge of his nose tightly. He accepted the paper, read it quickly, and groaned. “Yeah, you can say that again.” He passed the paper back to his friend. “She'll know if you don't follow those instructions down to the letter, but I ain't gonna make you do it.”
Milk—not too hot. She won't drink it if it's too cold. Hourly feeds. She likes honey on the bottle teat.
Blankets—pink blanket through the day if she's outside. Blue blanket at bedtime.
Walking/playtime—she's not allowed outside the house fence. No outdoor playtime if raining.
No swearing, no television without supervision, no treats before bed.
Call Finn immediately if there's an emergency.
No boys.
Chuckling to himself, Finn opened the door and decided his day was going to be infinitely better once he got on the plane and spanked the living shit out of his sub's upturned ass. His hand was going to be so happy to make her pay for this stunt, and when they got back from D.C., he'd extend the punishment by making her clean this mess up on her hands and knees, wearing her beloved mittens.
“Oh, fuck.” Now there was no containing Ash's amusement. He damn near roared with laughter as Finn scowled at the scene of utter carnage his office had become, bending to brace his hands on his jeans. “Boss, that calf did a number on your place.”
Lulu was having a whale of a time. Left to her own devices, she'd decided to reorganize his desk for him, knocking papers to the floor and eating half of them. Half-chewed, salivated globs of paper were stuck to the desk, the carpet, smeared every-fucking-where. The computer monitor must have offended her in some way—it rested face down on the desk, the wires behind it glistening with saliva.
There was a distinct odor of eau-de-cow-shit in the room, but Finn saw no evidence of Lulu's rectal offerings in sight. With his luck as it currently was, she'd probably parked her butt over his chair and left him a farewell gift.
The culprit turned her head to look at them, soft eyes blinking innocently. She mooed quietly, more of a low throaty sound than the loud bawling cries often heard in the pastures, then returned to sucking on the now-bare stalks of his formerly thriving lavender plant in the corner.
“I don't have time for this. I really do not have time for this,” Finn said in an almost sing-song voice. As if Arthur heard him and agreed, Finn's pocket exploded in a tinny jangle of incoming messages. He took his phone out and swiped the messages off the screen, taking a quick photo of the wreckage for evidence. “Goddamn it, he's gonna bitch about this all the way to D.C. and back. I've got to go. You okay dealing with the princess, Ash?”
“Leave her to me, boss. She'll be cursing like a cowboy and hooked on them reality TV shows by the time you get back. Might even be clearing a pack of smokes and a six-pack a day, too.”
“On your head be it,” Finn warned and backed out of the doorway. “See you Sunday.”
Time to face the music.
* * *
Ava
Arthur's truck was nice.
Ava huddled in the back seat and glanced around the pristine interior, her hands trapped between her clenched thighs. She'd already had a stern admonishment from the man wearing all black for leaving fingerprints on the dark glass partition between the front and rear of the vehicle. He hadn't said a word, but the way he rapped his knuckle on her window and scowled disapprovingly at her, she'd gotten the point.
No touchy.
She was considering crawling out of the other door and making a break for it as the minutes ticked past. No doubt Finn was cursing a blue streak and devising methods to make her sorry for shutting Lulu in his office, but really, what harm could a three-day old calf wreak in a room where pretty much everything was wood? It wasn't like she had teeth!
The seam of her jeans dampened—the panty-ban was still in effect—when Finn strode out onto the porch, scooped his bag up in one hand without breaking stride, and walked quickly to the truck. Dampness escalated to throbbing when she got a good look at his face as he exchanged words with the driver and handed over his bag.
He had his Master Finnegan face on.
She sat perfectly still, barely breathing, as he rounded the rear of the truck. Her ass twitched when the door opened, and a powerhouse of dominance slid into the seat. He said nothing, not even when Arthur climbed into the front, started the engine, and pulled out of the yard.
/> “I—”
Finn lifted his hand, his gaze on his phone. Ava pressed her lips together. “Actions have consequences, Ava; we've discussed this. I think it's safe to say you have my full attention now, which does not bode well for you.” His teeth bit into his lower lip, dragging over the flesh before he handed her the phone. “So, what consequences do you think comes from this?”
The plastic was warm in her trembling hands. For a long moment, she avoided looking at the screen, suspecting whatever he'd taken the time to immortalize on camera probably wasn't something he found amusing. But he was waiting, and Master Finnegan did not like to wait. Risking a glance, she grimaced inwardly. She cleared her throat. “Master—”
She pressed herself into the corner, her eyes shifting from the chaos of his office to the movement of his hand sliding into his jacket pocket. The crackle of a plastic baggie had her swallowing around a lump in her throat the size of a tennis ball.
“Jeans down to your knees, little minx, and that ass in the air.” Finn extracted a gnarly looking, pale-colored root from the baggie, then lifted his hip and tugged his pocketknife from his back pocket. With a mixture of speed and dexterity she'd admire under other circumstances, Ava watched him whittle it into a familiar and unwelcome shape. “I don't believe it was a question, Ava.”
“I-I didn't know she would do this, Sir,” she whispered. “Please, I—”
The peelings were gathered back into the baggie. The pocketknife snapped shut and disappeared.
“She's your responsibility, Ava, and you put her in there. She's eaten paperwork and a plant. If the computer monitor isn't smashed, it'll be through luck and nothing else. She's chewed electrical wires and is damn fortunate she hasn't got teeth to cut through them, otherwise we'd be having barbequed beef for dinner on Sunday. There's cow shit sprayed somewhere in there.” His hand patted his knee. “Not only that, you avoided talking about an important discussion and not only made us late, but Arthur as well. He's a very meticulous man when it comes to schedules and tardiness, Ava, and you've messed with his routine for the day.”
Black Light: Branded Page 18