Edge of the Enforcer

Chapter Thirteen

The mission had taken over a week, but the hostage was safely home with his family, and that felt damned good. The kid had shown more guts than many grown men.

Not a bad job either. One merc with a busted forearm, couple with knife wounds. Everyone—except the kidnappers—had returned. And deVries was now done with jobs for hire. Felt fucking good.

Anticipation rising, he walked onto the porch of Lindsey’s duplex, carrying his toy bag and overnight bag. Only around midnight on a Friday. Maybe she’d still be awake.

He knocked on the door.

Her footsteps approached quickly, so she hadn’t been upstairs in bed. The tiny light from the peephole darkened as she checked who was on her porch. Good habit.

But when the door opened, her cheeks were pale, her breathing shallow. “Zander,” she half whispered.

Hell. “So late. I scared you?” Fuck, he should have called first.

“I—well, yes.” As color seeped back into her face, she moved aside to let him in. When he stepped into the well-lit room, her eyes rounded. “Oh my God, are you all right?” Her hands closed over his forearms.

Crap, where were his brains this evening? He stank of sweat, blood, gunpowder, and oil. His face was scratched from branches, his jeans torn from hitting the ground and rolling. The kid’s blood had stained his shirt. He should have swung home and showered.

He hadn’t been able to wait. “Good enough once I shower. You mind?”

“Of course not.” And, even as filthy as he was, she hugged him, pressing her clean little body against his. Jesus, she could break a man. “Zander, where have you been?”

An evasion rose to his lips. No. Truth now. “I took a job with a mercenary unit. Rescuing a kidnapping victim. A boy.”

“Oh God.” And, with her soft heart, she asked the right question. The only right question. “Did you get him back? Is he okay?”

“Affirmative. He’ll probably have nightmares, but he’s home. His big sister was making him a cheeseburger before we left.”

Her smile could light up a room. It damned well lit up his heart. “Thank God.” Her brows drew together. “How about you? Have you had anything to eat?”

“Later.” The need was on him. On the plane as he’d catnapped, his dreams had been full of violence. Of pain…inflicting pain. Only…could she take it?

“Lindsey, I…need…” His fist bunched in the front of her shirt—and sweetness filled him when he realized she was wearing one of his old flannel shirts.

“Oh. Of course.” She started to unbutton the shirt. “I want you too.”

“Lindsey.” He had to make her understand. “I’m looking for more than sex.”

Her gaze fell to the toy bag on the floor beside him. “Right.” She swallowed audibly. “Sure.”

“I can go to the club, babe.” Normally, that’s what he’d do, but he and Lindsey had agreed to be exclusive.

“No.” She lifted her chin. “You’ll use me, not someone else.”

So fucking stubborn. Dammit, as a submissive, she might try too hard to give him what he needed. Nonetheless they were a couple now; he wouldn’t seek surcease elsewhere. He handed her the bag. “Strip completely. Put on the ankle and wrist cuffs. Kneel beside your bed and wait for me.”

DeVries scrubbed off the physical stench of battle, wishing it were as easy to wash away the emotional residue. He considered jerking off, but his need wasn’t for sex. He needed to mete out pain. He needed a willing masochist.

Instead, he had himself a willing submissive. Fuck. He’d have to be damned careful.

There were still ropes looped on the tall wooden posts of Lindsey’s bed from his other visits. Kneeling as ordered, she was a beautiful sight with her pale golden skin, pink-brown nipples, hair a dark cascade over her shoulders.

Mine.

Tightening his control, he dragged the bed away from the wall and angled the headboard into the center of the room. “Up. Face the headboard.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Even standing, she was short enough her chest could rest against the heavy wood of the frame. Perfect. He clipped her wrist cuffs to the ropes on the carved posts. Felt the scars running up her forearms. He still needed to know what had caused them—but this wasn’t the time.

After pulling her feet apart, he tied her ankle cuffs to the legs of the bed frame. Opening her. The musky fragrance of her arousal invited him to run his fingers over her pussy. Push inside to feel her squirm.

Not yet. He was hard already, but he needed more than a fuck tonight. “I’m going to hurt you, Lindsey.” His voice almost guttural. “Red is your safeword. Yellow if you need it.”

“Yes, Sir.” She was breathy with an erotic mixture of anticipation and trepidation.

After dropping the toy bag beside her, he set out the impact toys he’d use. Warm up first.

After wakening her skin with a light flogging, gentle slaps, and massage, he upped the ante with a heavier flogger.

Her back and ass turned pink, and at length, a pleasing red. The occasional gasp from her was like liquid gold sliding into his gut. More.

Needing to remind her of who was the top, he leaned against her from behind and rubbed his cock between her buttocks. Her shiver made him grin. Made him enjoy not having dressed for the scene.

Pulling her back from the wood of the headboard, he cupped her breasts. Kneaded them cruelly. Pinched the nipples until her breathing hitched and he could hear a protest deep in her throat.

With his other hand, he curved his palm over her mound, pressed down on her clit, and shoved a finger—two fingers—into her cunt. Slickly wet. She was enjoying everything he’d done so far.

He’d barely gotten started.

OH MY EFFING God. Lindsey bowed her head as blows rained down on her back. He was using a flogger with a multitude of thick, heavy falls. Each impact drove deep into her bones and set her skin on fire.

He’d put clamps on her nipples, tightening them until she couldn’t keep from pulling away.

Every strike of the flogger shoved her forward to hit the nipple clamps against the headboard. And hurt. All of her hurt, and it wasn’t fun anymore. But she could feel his need as if her own—and her own need was to give him everything.

Her face was wet with tears. With sweat. Owwww. She gritted her teeth to keep from using her safeword, from screaming, from crying. Instead, she braced her forehead against the wood so he wouldn’t see how she felt. She’d take it—she’d endure anything if he got what he needed.

It took her a second to realize he’d stopped. A hand on her cheek turned her face to the heat of his gaze.

Dismay filled her as she realized his tight face held none of the peace he displayed when he flogged masochists at the club.

“You’re done, babe,” he muttered.

“No.” Her voice wavered past the sobs stuck in her throat. “I didn’t use my safeword.”

His thumb stroked her wet cheek. “Think I’m blind? Scene’s over.”

“But you—”You aren’t done. Not even close.

“Shhh. Let me get you free.” He opened each Velcro cuff with a quick, frustrated yank.

More tears spilled over her lids as she realized she couldn’t give him what he needed.

“Turn around.” He steadied her, his palms warm on her upper arms. “Hold still now.” With unnaturally controlled movements, he removed the clamp from her left nipple and, without waiting, did the right.

Like a one-two step, blood rushed back into the abused tissues, burning and engorging each nipple. She groaned, moved to cover her breasts.

“No.” He held her wrists at her sides as he drank in her pain. Pleasure glinted in his eyes. “Nice.”

Her gaze clung to his, as if he were reeling her in like a fish on a line. Everything in her pleaded to ease the strain in his face. “Take what you need, Sir. Please.”

When his lean fingers touched her cheek, she saw the answer in his expression—she couldn’t give him what he required.

“You’re what I need, pet.” Hand around her nape, he guided her to the side of the bed and bent her over the mattress. Under his firm touch and the suggestive position, her pain coalesced into something entirely different—into a raging need. She might hate really hurting, but rough sex lit her up like a fireworks display. And God, he knew that. Used it.

Running his hands over her back and butt, he fingered the slight welts, making her squirm. “Such a pretty ass. I’m going to admire my work while I fuck you.” When he squeezed the tender, reddened buttocks, she sucked air through her teeth.

A small pleading sound escaped her.

“Oh yeah, you’ll get what you need, Tex.” As his callused hands spread her open, he dragged his cock against her entrance and pressed slightly inside.

Her clit throbbed in anticipation. Her pussy felt sensitive and needy—and very wet.

His laugh was harsh. His hard palm smacked her right buttock. Ow, ow, ow. As the burn seared through her, he gripped her hips and ruthlessly sheathed himself to the hilt.

Too big. Too fast. Her insides spasmed in protest, and lights burst in front of her eyes. “Aaaaa!” Mindlessly, she pushed up, trying to escape.

A hand fastened on her nape, holding her down on the bed. “Take it, babe.”

His merciless grip turned her core molten. As her pussy pulsed around him in protest—and pleasure—he kicked her legs farther open, rendering her more helpless, and hammered into her. Each hard, inescapable thrust stretched her insides, pushed her deeper into the mattress, rubbed her hurting nipples and her clit on the coarse cotton spread.

Trapped. Her mind went blank as he forced her to take it, to feel it, to enjoy his use. A slap on her bottom sent more fire arcing through her. Her back arched—and he kept her pinned to the bed.

Abruptly, he withdrew and instead swirled his fingers in her wetness. Even as his cock drove in, he centered a slick finger against her asshole.

Instinctively, she fought to escape.

His grip tightened on her nape. His thick shaft pushed in deeply, pinioning her. “Don’t. Move.”

At the sound of the growling baritone, her insides clenched around him.

His hand moved from her neck to her hip, restraining her as he forced his finger past the rim of muscles, using only her own wetness as lubrication. The abrasion burned. Yet, like the thumping sound of massive lights coming on in a sports stadium, every nerve in her pelvis ignited.

He didn’t move, his weight on her increasing, deliberately pointing out that she was pinned. That both her anus and vagina were penetrated. That she had no control

The sound she made was an animal’s—a needy animal.

“Yeah, there we go,” he muttered. His shaft slammed into her; his finger shoved into her anus. Cock withdrew. Then the finger. And again.

The ball of need inside her tightened, clamping down around him. Her legs trembled, her hands clenched on the bedspread. Her world narrowed to his finger. His cock, over and over.

More. Needed more. She wiggled, pushed up—

He slapped her bottom so hard the sound echoed in the room. Pain burst and burned into her like a wildfire of sensation sweeping everything before it. Uncontrollable pleasure ripped apart her senses, shaking her like branches in a wind, electrifying every nerve. Oh God—too much. She twisted under him, needing more, needing less, spasming, crying. Falling into a whirlpool of sensation.

Slap! His palm struck her buttocks, his cock slammed into her, his finger penetrated her. Again and again.

“Nooooo.” The molten heat surged into her center, up her spine and belly, and she kept coming and coming, unable to stop.

With both hands, he gripped her hips, lifting her ass higher as he pounded into her and released with a growl.

***

DeVries woke early with Lindsey’s soft body cradled to his front. His arms were wrapped around her, holding her close. Sweetest teddy bear he’d ever known. Her breath was warm on his chest. Slowly, he inhaled her tangy sweet fragrance that mingled with the lingering scents of raw sex and the cream he’d rubbed into her skin.

After their session last night, he’d taken his time with aftercare, washing her, tending the marks he’d put on her—and enjoying her squirming—then rocking her as she fell asleep. Felt like he’d come home.

Considering his exhaustion, he should have slept longer. But, even though his body was sated, the knot of tension inside him hadn’t subsided. Not the way a good S/M scene at the club would have accomplished.

Fuck, she’d tried.

Remorse scraped his already raw nerves. He’d satisfied her, he knew. Hell, she’d come as hard as any woman he’d ever seen and lavished him with grateful kisses when she recovered. His guilt was because he realized he’d flogged her longer and harder than he should have. Dammit, he’d known she’d try to take more than she really wanted. He just hadn’t realized she’d attempt to disguise her pain from him.

She was going to get her butt walloped for not being honest with him…once he unwound to where he could deal. Fuck, his gut was tight. His emotions were a tangled mess, ready to snap.

After easing out of bed, he yanked on a pair of running shorts from his bag and headed out into a foggy San Francisco dawn.

***

The biscuits were almost done. Hair damp on her shoulders, Lindsey finished cooking the scrambled eggs and bacon. Upstairs, the shower was still running. Back from his jog, Zander had found her in the kitchen, given her a quick kiss, and muttered he needed a scrub up.

Worry simmered under her happy mood. As late as they’d been up, he should have slept longer. Instead he’d gone running—and he never ran in the mornings. He always went to the gym after he got off work.

Taking her time, she set the table and poured juice and coffee. Her appetite kept decreasing.

Happily, as he came down the stairs, he was smiling. “Gotta admit, I missed your breakfasts last week.”

The compliment sent her spirits soaring…but not enough. As he sat down across from her, she studied him. He’d had a night of sex. Gone running. He should look relaxed and satisfied. Instead the muscles around his mouth were tense, his body taut.

She hadn’t given him what he needed. The knowledge lay like a granite boulder in her chest, weighting down her words, making her evaluate everything he said.

“You got plans for tonight?” he asked.

“Rona and Abby want to go shopping.” For sexy underwear for the Yosemite trip. Unfortunately, Lindsey probably couldn’t afford any. “Tonight I’m on the desk at Dark Haven until midnight.”

He nodded. “Let one of them drive. I’ll pick you up at midnight and bring you home. If I’m late, wait for me.”

He still wanted to see her. Her heart lightened slightly. “Okay. But aren’t we going to play at the club after I’m through working?” They hadn’t yet done a scene together at Dark Haven.

He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. Slowly, he lowered his hand. Stalling. “I’d rather fuck you senseless here again.”

The warmth expanding outward from her core didn’t succeed in melting the chill encased around her heart…because although his lips had curved up, none of the smile had shown in his eyes.

***

“Hey, Lindsey. Look at this one.”

Lindsey turned.

The Frederick’s of Hollywood store was crowded with holiday shoppers, but Lindsey had no trouble spotting her friend’s curly blonde hair. Abby held up a cami and thong. The lacy fabric wouldn’t cover…anything. “What do you think?”

“Oh score,” Lindsey said. “My liege would definitely like that one.”

“Considering the price, he’d better.”

Abandoning a rack of corsets, Rona quirked an eyebrow and said in a dry voice, “I think Xavier’s budget might extend to the occasional lingerie purchase.” Over her arm was a black lace teddy with garters and fishnet stockings. Tiny satin ribbons held the front closed. “How about this for the dungeon party at Serenity?”

“That’s adorable,” Lindsey said. “Only, tying all those bows while dressing would drive me nuts.”

“Payback is watching Simon untie them. One by one. He loves unwrapping things.” Rona smirked like a cat who’d found the best cream.

Lindsey rolled her eyes. “Thank the Lord I don’t work for him anymore, or this would be such an inappropriate conversation.”

With a giggling snort, Abby put Xavier’s treat into her basket. “What about you, Lindsey? Aren’t you getting anything?”

“Not today.”

When Rona opened her mouth, Lindsey held up a hand. “Don’t insult me by offering to buy something.”

“Not to worry.” Rona pointed to the rear of the store. “Everything there is 75 percent off. Will your finances cover that?”

“Seriously?” Hope rising, Lindsey led them to the rack. Most of the clothes were too big or too small. But… “Oh wow.” She lifted out a virginal white satin negligee. The length went to midthigh. She held it up. The neckline dipped all the way to the waist. The lacing fastening the back together would end at a woman’s ass. “I can afford this.”

It would drive Zander crazy. Or would have. Her face fell. “But—”

“What is it, sweetie?” Rona squeezed her shoulder. “Money worries?”

“Uh-uh.”

“I’d guess that means guy problems,” Abby said.

Lindsey rubbed her fingers over the smooth fabric, envisioning Zander’s big hands there. “More like sadist problems—as in, Zander likes handing out pain.”

Rona frowned. “Is he going too far? He respects your safeword, doesn’t he?”

“It’s not that. It’s that he’s a real sadist and…”

“And you’re not a masochist,” Abby said softly. “I’ve seen those intense scenes he does at the club.”

“That’s it. He wants—needs—more than I can tolerate. I can see his internal battle.”

“Mmmhmm. He usually plays with masochists who like a lot of pain.” Rona’s gaze was troubled.

“I know,” Lindsey whispered. “I can’t give him that. I tried, and I couldn’t.”

“No. And you shouldn’t try. Taking a little extra pain for your Dom’s pleasure is different from trying to satisfy a sadist,” Rona said.

“Did you talk to him about it?” Abby asked.

“Kind of. He says he’s fine, like it’s not something I should worry about.” How dumb was that? “If he doesn’t get to… Do a sadist’s needs go away?” Lindsey asked. Surely she could figure a way to fix this. She had to.

Abby bit her lip. “I don’t think so. Not even if the sadist tries to ignore them.”

“Oh.” The acknowledgment was like a cholla plant, the thorns painfully ripping into her heart.

She hung the garment back on the rack—she wouldn’t need something pretty after all.

***

Near midnight, Lindsey was working the reception desk at Dark Haven. Her shift was almost over, and the number of incoming members had decreased to a trickle. With a sigh, she slumped in the chair. Her heart hurt and somehow was making all the rest of her hurt too. Ever since she’d talked with Abby and Rona, the world had seemed to darken, as if someone had drawn the curtains in a house.

The door squeaked open and thudded shut, and she looked up to see the masochist named HurtMe. He sauntered up to the desk and handed her his membership card. “Lindsey.”

“Hey.” She nodded at his PVC chaps and matching chest harness that showed off his lean muscles. “I like the look.”

“You should get some cowgirl gear. You have the accent to make it work.” He leaned a hip against the counter. “So…have you seen deVries today?”

She felt her face heat up. “Um…”

“Fuck, is he still screwing with you?” He sighed and patted her hand. “I’m sorry, Lindsey. I’d hoped he was over his snit.”

“Snit?” Seriously? She lifted her eyebrows. Did the word “snit” and the man named the Enforcer even exist in the same zip code?

“Like how he was using you to make me jealous.”

“What?” She swiped his card through the reader and slapped it on the counter. “Why would he do that?”

“I thought you knew. We were together—before you came along. The trouble was he didn’t want me playing with other guys.” He rubbed his hand over his lean, shaved chest. “I don’t think it’s right he’d use you to get me upset, you know?”

Zander had used her? Lindsey flattened her hands on her leather skirt. “I don’t get you. We are together.”

“Oh please.” HurtMe gave her a pitying look. “He’s punished a female off and on, but do you see him actually have a real scene with females? Seriously? No.”

“Whatever.” She forced her back to stay straight. “It’s none of your business what he does with me anyway, now is it?”

“Well, I guess not. Fine.” His mouth went flat. “I liked you, you know, and I thought you’d want to hear this before you made yourself into more of an idiot over him. Before everyone in Dark Haven finds out how you were played.” He snatched his card off the desk and stalked through the club entrance.

Used. Played. She stared at the wall, seeing scenes unfolding. Zander with Dixon. With HurtMe. With johnboy. All men. Sure, Zander would flog or paddle a woman, but usually because Xavier had asked him to.

His intense sessions were always with guys, and rumors said Zander was bisexual. If he was serious about HurtMe, maybe Zander had used her to make the guy jealous. From the snipe in HurtMe’s voice, the maneuver was successful.

Feet in the chair, she curled her arms around her ankles, and laid her face on her knees. Used. The thought was like a fingernail digging into the unhealed sores inside her.

All the same, HurtMe’s assertions didn’t matter. Not really.

Breaking up with Zander was simply the right thing to do. They were getting too involved, and if Parnell or Ricks found her, there was a chance Zander might get hurt.

So…she was a danger to him, and she didn’t satisfy his needs. Couldn’t get much more straightforward than that, right? She stared down at her hands, watching her knuckles blur as grief welled up and filled her eyes with tears.

I can do this. I have to do this.

Nonetheless, when Zander walked in a few minutes later, she still wasn’t prepared.

“Ready to go, Lindsey?” he asked.

“Um… Hey.” She attempted to smile at him.

Eyes narrowed, he leaned over the counter. His fingers—so familiar a touch—curved to cup her chin. “You’ve been crying. Why?”

The authoritative demand of a Dom sent a shiver up her spine. She swallowed. Do it now. Here. If she left with him and tried to argue—face it, he could make her change her mind in a heartbeat. “Because I’m sad.”

The words kept sticking in her throat. Get it out now. “Because I’m not going to see you again.”

His fingers tightened on her face. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

DESPITE FEELING SCRAPED raw all day, deVries had looked forward to seeing his little Texan. Her sense of humor, her caring, her warmth—being around her was like stepping into springtime. But what was this shit? He let go of her. As short-tempered as he was today, he needed to be careful. Patient.

Her face was pale, eyes haunted and wet with tears. She really was upset.

Gentling his voice, he rested his hands palm-down on the desk. “Okay, babe. Tell me what’s going on.”

“There are reasons why we’re…breaking up.” Actual grief shadowed her face. “Several, actually. Only there’s one difficulty we can’t get past. It’s impossible.”

“Go on.” Impossible rarely was.

“You’re a s-sadist,” she whispered.

“You knew that when we met. I’d never go beyond what you wanted. Not if you’re honest with me.” Unlike the way she’d been last night. One more thing they’d talk about.

“Yesterday, you stopped long before you were ready to. B-before you were satisfied.” Her raised chin defied him to deny her statement. Her quivering lower lip tugged at his heart.

Hell…this he hadn’t been prepared for. Perceptive, wasn’t she? And…hurting. She must feel as if she’d failed him. He softened his voice. “Satisfaction isn’t everything.”

“It is to me—when it comes to you. I’m not comfortable if you’re suffering. If you need something I can’t provide.” She reached out to touch him. Drew back.

Fucking submissive who wanted to give him…everything. Dammit, this wasn’t her choice to make. “We’re good. I’m good.”

“You’re not. I can see it.”

He growled. Wasn’t as if he couldn’t function without handing out heavy pain. S/M was a craving, not an addiction. Wasn’t like going hungry… More like giving up pizza or steak. Sucked to cut back, but other things were more important. “I fucking care for you.” The words sounded ugly. Harsh. Not how he’d figured on telling her.

The tears in her eyes overflowed. “And I care for you.”

He saw her lips firm. His gut registered the loss even before she whispered, “I won’t let you live handicapped because of me. I can’t. We’re done, Zander. Please… If you care, honor that.”

What the fuck? He straightened, staring at her. Just like that? It was fun. We’re done?

If she’d really cared, she’d stick. She wouldn’t walk away for such a fucked-up reason. Anger flared, burning apart his shaky control. “Might have known. A relationship takes work. Aren’t many women willing to put out the effort.”

“Zander…”

“It’s deVries.” He leaned forward into her face, gritting out the words. “You got your honor, Tex. Hope it helps you sleep good in your empty bed.”

The ashes inside him settled over everything, turning his world gray.

“I’m so—”

He moved toward the exit and stopped at the sight of fucking-richer-than-God Ethan Worthington. Had she arranged to meet the other Dom there?

Even as he told himself he was being an ass, deVries glanced over his shoulder at Lindsey. Hand over her mouth, tears rolling down her cheeks. Right. His wife had done silent crying; hadn’t meant shit. Tamara had dumped him for a rich man who’d keep her in style without any effort on her part.

He glanced at Worthington, then Lindsey. “Looks like you won’t have an empty bed for long.”

He took little pleasure in slamming the door behind him.

On the street, the cold air slapped him in the face. Brought him up short, playing over his asshole words. Fuck. He suppressed the need to head back in and apologize. Fix things. Lindsey wasn’t Tamara—she wouldn’t play him that way.

She’d just dump him and cry. Would give up without even a fight. “We’re done.”

Not fair. Not right.

Now what? He stopped, feeling the frustration growing inside him, needing an outlet more than before.

He couldn’t do a scene. His control was shot.

A bar fight, though… He studied the rowdy tavern down the street. Full of city boys. No challenge there. But he could visit some of the places by the docks.

He glanced back at Dark Haven—a haven no longer. Big brown eyes, trembling mouth, sweet words. She’d gutted him worse than a KA-BAR.

Yeah, he’d make the rounds of the dock bars. See if he couldn’t get his outsides battered up enough to disguise the pain inside.

***

The slamming of Dark Haven’s door shattered Lindsey’s control. He wasn’t supposed to be mad at her. He should have been relieved.

“I can’t say I’ve seen deVries upset before,” Sir Ethan said. He walked around the desk and leaned his hip on the edge. Even with her vision blurry, she saw the concern in his clear blue eyes. He handed her a tissue from the box beside the computer. “What happened?”

Tears flooded her eyes faster than she could wipe them away. “H-he… I-I…” She made herself stop. Zander—DeVries—wouldn’t want to be talked about.

Why should she care? He’d been cruel…but only because she’d upset him. God, she’d really hurt him. Her lip trembled. He’d cared for her…more than she’d realized.

I changed my mind—come back.

No. She couldn’t waver. This was for the best. It was. She pulled in a shuddering breath, wanting to hit her hands on the desk, to throw things, to scream to heaven. Why—why is life so unfair? Sobs boiled up inside her, impossible to subdue.

When Sir Ethan put his arm around her, she buried her face against his chest and cried.

With a low rumble of approval, he wrapped her closer, holding her firmly. As he rubbed her shoulder, he murmured soft words she couldn’t hear. Zander had done the same before, his hands rougher, his voice harsher, and God, she wanted him.

Can’t have him.

After a minute, Lindsey regained control and struggled to pull away.

Sir Ethan’s arms tightened for a moment before he let her go.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

His aristocratic expression was gentle as he used a tissue to clean her face. “You are very welcome, sweetheart. You can have my shoulder anytime. Or anything else you need.”

The warmth in his gaze said he meant the invitation exactly as it sounded.

The Dom was a walking, talking definition of gorgeous. Skilled, powerful, caring. She should want him.

And yet, her heart was set on Zander. Why had she ever wanted to be in love? It hurt—hurt far more than any whip a sadist could wield.

***

Sitting at her small patio table the next day, Lindsey heard a knock on the duplex’s front door. A salesman? Probably not on a Sunday. Likely Rona and Abby. She didn’t care. Talking wasn’t what she had in mind.

Silence.

Good. She dumped more light rum from the bottle into her glass and studied the color. Paler than it was dark meant more alcohol than Coke. Excellent proportions.

Something rattled, and Lindsey jerked around to see the wooden side gate swing open.

Abby and Rona walked through as if they owned the place.

Jeez. “I thought this state had rules about rentals. Like giving twenty-four hours’ notice before using a key.” She glared at her landlady.

Abby smiled. “Oh, it does. Sadly there aren’t any laws governing the behavior of BFFs. Sorry.”

Shit, that was hard to answer. She scowled at Rona. “What’s your excuse for trespassing?”

“Same one. BFF—only I’m BFF number one since I’m older.” Rona sank down into a chair. “God. Joint Commission was here for the hospital survey. I think my feet are three sizes bigger.”

“Poor baby.” Abby checked the label on the bottle. “Rum sounds good. Have you got more Coke, and are you going to share?”

“Y’all are damn stubborn.” Lindsey considered getting up. Unhappily the door looked awfully far away. “Glasses are in the kitchen.”

Abby grinned. “I know where they are.”

“So you’re here because…” Lindsey prompted.

Abby reappeared with the glasses as Rona answered, “Because we were worried about you.”

“But…” She hadn’t called them, and Zander—deVries—sure wouldn’t. “How…”

“Sir Ethan talked with Xavier last night. Xavier talked with Simon,” Abby said. “Afterward, Simon talked with Zander.”

Uh-oh.

“Zander was…less than polite, I gathered. So Simon shipped him to Montana this morning to work on a security system.” Rona chortled under her breath as she poured a strong drink. “A blizzard is supposed to hit Montana tonight.”

“Serves him right.” Abby mixed herself a drink and topped off Lindsey’s with Coke. “Maybe his penis will freeze off and drop into the snow alongside his testicles.”

Oh God, they were blaming deVries for everything. Guilt pushed the alcohol aside. “He didn’t do anything. I…I was the one who broke up with him.”

“Because of what we’d talked about? Him being a sadist?” Rona asked softly.

Lindsey nodded miserably and gulped more of her drink.

“Sir Ethan said Zander was rude.” Abby set her glass down with a thump.

“Zander was furious with me.” A sob hitched Lindsey’s voice as she remembered his shocked expression. “God, I hurt him so bad. He didn’t w-want to break up. Acted as if it was something we could fix. But it wouldn’t work.” She looked at her friends. “It wouldn’t.”

“A relationship doesn’t change your basic personality,” Rona remarked carefully. “Did he think it would?”

“He only said he could handle it.” Lindsey pulled in a breath. “Except when he was relaxed, his face was all tight. He wasn’t the same. He looked like he was being rubbed raw from the inside out.”

Abby leaned back in her chair. “So he was angry and blasted you verbally.”

“Kind of.” She bit her lip. “First he said I wasn’t willing to put any effort into a relationship. And that—I could see his point. But when he saw Sir Ethan, he made a crack about me not having an empty bed. As if we broke up because I wanted Ethan. I don’t get it.”

“Huh.” Abby glanced at Rona. “Does Zander have a money hang-up or something?”

“Money?” Lindsey asked. “His ex left him for a rich guy. Still, what’s that got to do with Ethan?”

Rona blinked. “Zander was married before? I hadn’t heard that.”

“Yes. And Xavier told me Ethan’s really wealthy,” Abby said. “He doesn’t act like a snob, so most people don’t even know.”

“DeVries thinks I dumped him to get Sir Ethan’s money?” Insult set up an acid burn in her chest. “Did I tell you that was why he was so mean after the first night? He figured I’d divorced my ex and taken him for all he had.” Oh Zander.

She’d bet he didn’t really think that—had spewed something out in the heat of the moment.

“He’s got a skewed idea of women, sounds like,” Rona said. “No wonder he never gets serious. But he treated you differently.”

“I thought he did.” Lindsey frowned and blurted out, “I heard he was using me to make his boyfriend jealous.”

Rona and Abby stared and broke into laughter.

Lindsey glared. “Thanks, y’all.” With an effort, she shoved back from the table, walked into the kitchen—with only an occasional misstep—and fetched her second cure for heartsickness—a plateful of brownies with extra fudge frosting.

“Oh hey, let me help you with that.” Abby rose to take the goodies. “Look at all that chocolate. You really are feeling crappy, aren’t you?” She helped herself to one and moaned.

Rona motioned with a brownie at Lindsey. “Nice attempt at a diversion, sweetie. Now tell us why you’d think Zander has a boyfriend?”

“I’m kinda thinking it’s not my secret. And actually, I don’t believe it.” Last night, she’d decided HurtMe hadn’t been totally honest. Zander had wanted a relationship with her—he hadn’t even had a hissy fit when she’d called it going steady.

Regrettably HurtMe was right about one thing—he could offer Zander more than Lindsey. HurtMe loved pain.

Abby’s gaze had unfocused, and Lindsey could almost hear the professor’s mind buzzing. “Zander wouldn’t have told you that. Someone else did. Maybe someone who wasn’t being totally truthful.”

Lindsey straightened. “I—”

Rona clinked her glass against Abby’s. “You’re such a sociologist. Good call.”

“Hey, I’ve got a degree in psychology, you know. However, I didn’t figure it out until about 4:00 a.m.” Lindsey stared at the table.

Rona laid her hand over Lindsey’s. “That’s because you’re involved with him. We look at our lovers with our hearts, not our minds.”

“However, Lindsey, the man is going to return—if he doesn’t freeze. Maybe you should talk with him. Try to work something out.”

“I was fixin’ to do that, only I think it would hurt us both. Nothing gets past the fact that his need and my tolerance don’t match. And never will.”

The two women stayed silent, visibly upset and feeling for her. Lindsey gave them a twisted smile. They’d come to take care of her despite her attempt to ignore them. So wonderfully caring. As she picked up her drink, her shirtsleeve inched back to reveal the white scar running up her forearm. The one she’d gotten when she’d escaped from Ricks.

As Abby poured more rum into Rona’s glass, Lindsey had to wonder. Would her friends be here if they knew she was wanted by the law?

A second later, she realized they were both looking at her in concern. She blinked hard, realizing…yes, they’d be here. “I love you guys.”

Rona patted her shoulder. “And we love you too. Which is why we’re going to go in, watch some schmaltzy movie, eat popcorn, and talk trash about asshole men.”

When Lindsey burst into tears, Abby just snickered and hauled her out of the chair.