Safe Harbor

Chapter Ten

Sully awoke in pain early the next morning, but not as bad as he’d felt the night before. Mac was already out of bed, but had left the heating pad on the mattress where he could reach it. Sully grabbed it, turned it on, and wrapped it around his thigh.

Fucking leg. Then again, he should consider himself lucky he still had a leg. The bullet had shattered it above the knee. He supposed some pain on occasion was a small price to pay.

But dammit, he hated paying it.

Mac walked in with his coffee, a glass of water, and a pain pill.

“You’ll want this, Master.” He handed him the water and the pill.

Sully nodded, no arguments. He needed to get on top of the pain sooner rather than later. He could spend the rest of the day on over-the-counter pain meds if he knocked the pain back now. After this kicked in, Mac would draw him a hot bath to soak in and work on his leg to loosen the muscles.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t go through our routine last night,” Sully apologized.

Mac smiled. “It’s okay, Master. No infractions.”

Sully realized Mac was naked. “Where’s your clothes?”

Mac blushed. “I think I should go ahead and let her see the way we really are. She promised me six months.”

Sully hurt too badly to argue. “I’ll overrule you if I think it’s necessary.”

“Yes, Master.”

Mac worked on Sully’s leg, then drew him a hot bath. Sully would soak in there for a while. After another round with Mac’s hands, maybe he could function. As Mac helped him ease into the hot water, Sully grabbed his lover’s hand. “Hey.” Sully tugged, drawing him closer.

Mac smiled, leaned in, and kissed him. “I missed you.”

“Missed you, too. Let’s see how I feel later and maybe take her out to dinner tonight.”

“Okay. Yell if you need me. Don’t you dare hurt yourself getting out.” Mac left the bathroom door partially open so he could hear if Sully called for him.

Sully closed his eyes. How had he lucked out? Their relationship wasn’t anything that had ever raised the blip of a possibility on his future radar. Dammit, he was grateful for Brant’s presence in his life.

Especially in times like this.

He settled back in the water, slowly flexing his leg to work some of the stiffness out of it.

Clarisse smelled coffee and rolled over. Sully should be home, but she hadn’t heard anyone moving around or talking.

She could dash into the kitchen for her coffee and then retreat to her bedroom, hopefully avoid Sully until he locked himself in his office, but she knew that wouldn’t do her any good long term.

She had to face him and his whacked-out relationship with Mac sooner or later.

After pulling on her robe, she quietly opened her bedroom door.

The house was dark, but the over-counter lights were on in the kitchen. When she rounded the corner into the kitchen, the sight of Mac’s naked ass stopped her in her tracks. He must have heard her shocked “eep!” because he turned and offered her a smile before she could retreat.

“Good morning. You ready for breakfast?”

She stared, unable to take her eyes off his body. The gold nipple rings that she wanted to play with. The…

Holy crap, he was well-hung.

He arched an eyebrow at her. “You all right?”

“Um…uh…yeah. Okay.”

He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Six months, sweetie. That’s what you promised. If it really bothers you, I’ll go put on shorts.”

“Um…yeah…I mean, no, it doesn’t bother me. I just wasn’t expecting…” What? What wasn’t she expecting? Mac in full slave mode?

He laughed and reached over for the mug she always used, poured her a cup of coffee, and offered it to her. “To see me naked?”

“Yeah.” She took the mug and held it in both hands, hoping he couldn’t see how they trembled. He was… goddamn, he looked gorgeous!

She forced her eyes up from his groin to his brown eyes. “Does Sully walk around naked too?” That could be a blessing and a curse.

If he was hung half as well as Mac…

Ohmigod.

They’re gay…they’re gay…they’re gay…

“No,” Mac said with a smile. “Not usually. Sometimes I make him do that on the boat. Otherwise, he’s usually dressed.” He pointed to the counter. “Go ahead, sit. I’ll make breakfast.”

There were far worse views than Mac’s firm and well-shaped ass as he stood at the stove and made French toast. “Is Sully eating with us?”

Mac shook his head. “I’m making him stay in bed this morning.”

Clarisse blushed. Even though Mac didn’t turn, he must have realized how that sounded because he cast a glance at her over his shoulder.

“His leg is really hurting him this morning. He came home last night barely able to walk.”

“Oh. What’d he do to it?”

“Old injury. He didn’t take his cane with him.”

After a moment, Clarisse realized she wouldn’t get any more information from him. Cane? She hadn’t seen Sully use a cane, although come to think of it, he did have a noticeable limp.

Sully didn’t make an appearance before she finished her breakfast.

Mac sat at the other end of the counter, a towel on his seat.

She realized by the time she finished eating it almost felt…well, not normal, but she’d managed to grow more accustomed to seeing Mac running around naked. She shouldn’t complain. If he was fine with it, why not? At least she got one hell of a great view out of it.

Just because he was gay didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the scenery.

She took her shower. When she finished and returned to the living room on her way to refill her coffee, she found Sully on the couch with Mac fussing over him, getting him arranged with his left leg propped on pillows.

“I’m okay,” Sully insisted.

“No, you’re not. You could barely walk and you’re going to stay put. Whip my ass if you want, but I’m not budging on this.” Mac moved the coffee table close to the couch. “I’ll bring your laptop out here. You take it easy.” He disappeared down the hallway.

When Sully’s gaze landed on her, she stifled a laugh. He looked absolutely miserable. He shrugged as if to say, “What can I do?”

Despite her reborn mistrust, she smiled. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”

“Thanks. It’s my own fault for overdoing it.”

“Mac said it was from an old injury?”

Sully’s face darkened. “Yeah. I got shot. Line of duty.”

She didn’t know how to respond. Before she could, Mac reappeared with the laptop and a lap desk for Sully. “All right, what else do you need?”

“A new body?”

Mac smiled. He’d pulled a pair of sweatpants on, but was still shirtless. “I’ve got to run downstairs for the laundry. If you need something, have Clarisse get it for you or wait for me. Do not get off that couch, you hear me?”

Sully glared, but snapped him a mock salute before Mac left.

Clarisse circled the couch. “Can I get you anything?”

“The remote, over there, please.”

She handed it to him and sat in one of the chairs. “Is that why you retired? You were shot?”

His face darkened again. “Yeah. Not my best day. I wasn’t supposed to be there, got called in at the last minute when I was off-duty and not at home. Only damn day I didn’t have a vest on, I get shot.” He flipped through channels before settling on MSNBC.

“Nearly died. Lots of rehab.” He rubbed his left leg, above the knee.

She spotted the pale, twisted scar that started at his knee and ran up his thigh, disappearing under his shorts. “One here, one in the gut.”

“I’m sorry.”

The hint of a smile. It turned his hard face sexy and conflicted her in ways she didn’t understand. “Why? It’s not your fault I got shot.”

“I’m still sorry.” She stood, walked to the kitchen, and poured a cup of coffee. She tried to delay her return to the living room. In reality, there wasn’t much else for her to do.

Maybe that was the answer.

She returned to the chair. “Before you get involved in your work, can we talk?”

“Sure.” He set the lap desk and computer on the coffee table.

“What’s up?”

“Our arrangement.” She cleared her throat. “What I should be doing. To help out.”

“Why don’t we discuss the elephant in the middle of the room first?”

She blushed. He still wore that sexy smile. “What do you mean?”

“The talk you and Mac had on the boat this weekend.”

She felt more heat pulsating in her face. “I told him that’s between you two.”

“No, as someone who lives here, it involves you, too.” Mac opened the front door and walked in carrying a laundry basket. Sully called out to him, “Slave, put that down. Now. Come here.”

Looking confused, he set the basket down and walked over.

“Help me up.” When Mac started to protest, Sully silenced him.

“Don’t argue with me, slave. I want this conversation over with so we can get on with life.” Mac helped Sully stand. Then he handed him a walking cane that had been leaning against the end of the couch.

“Follow us, honey,” Sully said to her.

With her fingers firmly wrapped around her steaming mug of coffee, she followed the men down the hall. At the locked door, Sully punched in a code and turned the knob. “Zero, one, one, three. His birth date,” Sully explained. “January thirteenth.” He pushed the door open and limped inside where he flipped a light switch.

When Clarisse hesitated at the doorway, Sully turned and waved her in. “It’s okay,” he said, his tone gentle.

She stepped inside. The large room, approximately the same size as her bedroom, didn’t have an attached bathroom. Separated from her bedroom by Sully’s office, it was the last room at the end of the hallway. Several large pieces of equipment were pushed against the black walls, and a large cabinet took up one corner. A window shade muted the bright sunlight outside. She spotted several eyebolts screwed into the ceiling in strategic locations.

Sully followed her gaze. “They’re screwed into the roof trusses, so they can bear weight.”

“How much weight?”

He shrugged. “At least four hundred pounds. They’re reinforced with metal plates.” He pointed to one X-shaped structure. “St.

Andrew’s Cross.” He explained how it was used, then worked his way around the room naming the devices and basic uses. He could have been holding a seminar on decomposition rates or blood spatter patterns for a group of fellow cops, not BDSM furniture.

He finished. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Want to know more?”

She glanced at Mac and didn’t miss the desperate look on his face.

He worried she’d be scared off, that much was blatantly obvious. “Do I need to?”

Sully hobbled over to one of the benches and heavily sat with a pained grunt. “Here’s the thing. We were going to have a party next weekend, but I don’t mind canceling it if it’s too soon for you.”

This wasn’t her house. “I won’t tell you what you can and can’t do under your own roof.”

“That’s not the point,” Sully countered. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“As long as nobody’s doing anything to me, don’t cancel your party on my account. I’ll turn my TV up and lock my door.”

Mac looked worried. Sully nodded. “Okay.” He studied Mac’s attire. “Why are you still dressed?”

Mac blushed but stripped off the sweatpants. It was Clarisse’s turn to blush. Okay, so maybe there were major perks to this arrangement.

“If you have any questions, you’re always welcomed to ask,” Sully assured her.

“Why do you have to beat him?”

“I don’t have to.”

“Then why do it?” They said ask questions? By God, she’d ask.

Mac didn’t wait for Sully to answer. “Because I like it,” he softly said, glancing at Sully as if for reassurance.

“How can anyone enjoy getting beaten?”

“It’s not as simple as that,” Sully interjected. “Only by seeing it over time can you understand. Punishment isn’t the same as play. It’s not all about pain, a lot of it is sensual.”

She shivered and gripped her mug more tightly.

Sully wasn’t finished. “Mac always has the ability to stop anything he doesn’t like. He can call red.” He glanced at Mac. “That brings me to another point. We don’t want to force our lifestyle on you. You are, however, welcome to watch if the door is open. Or if something happens you aren’t comfortable seeing, speak up and we’ll take it behind closed doors.”

“Does my uncle know what you do?”

“No, not really. He suspects I’m in charge, but that’s it.” He motioned to Mac, who helped him stand. “I’m not mentally at my best today, between the pain and the painkillers. So I need to give you a rain check on going over what I want you to do to help me out.

Basically, you’ll be my administrative assistant. As far as household duties, you and Mac can split them as he sees fit.” Mac started to protest, but Sully hushed him. “You will split your duties with her, slave. That’ll give you more time to work on the boat, keep your paperwork up to date, stuff like that. You said you wished you could take the boat out more often. Now you can.”

Mac finally nodded, but he didn’t look totally happy. “Yes, Master.”

With Mac’s assistance, Sully limped down the hall and back to the couch. “You’ll help Mac on the boat as he needs. Mac will come up with a reasonable pay scale for that. For what you’ll do around the house and for me, I’ll pay you two hundred a week cash, and you’ll get free room and board and the car on top of that. I’ll also pay your insurance. Is that okay?”

She numbly nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine.” A minimum of eight hundred a month, free and clear, in addition to whatever Mac paid her.

Add that to what she still had in savings, it wouldn’t take long to build a nice nest egg. After six months, she’d have more than enough to afford a small apartment and buy a cheap car of her own.

“I’ll pay you cash so Bryan can’t track you. Once that situation’s handled, I’ll adjust your pay so your after-tax income is still the same.”

“Thanks.”

Mac helped Sully rearrange himself on the couch. Mac started to hand him the lap desk, but Sully waved him off. “No, I think I need a nap.” His face appeared pinched with pain. “Let the pain meds kick in.” He shot a serious look at Mac. “Make a chore schedule of some sort by the end of the day. Doesn’t have to be elaborate, but you will let her take turns with chores.”

Mac reddened. “Yes, Master.”

Clarisse followed Mac into the kitchen. Then he spotted the laundry basket still sitting on the floor. “Well, you could help me with that.” He changed course and she followed him into their bedroom, where he dumped the clothes onto the bed.

It didn’t look like a monster lived here. As she helped Mac fold clothes, she snuck glances around, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary.

That sighting came when he opened the door to their large walk-in closet and flipped on the light. In the corner stood a small umbrella stand. Inside it, an umbrella, two more walking canes, several thin lengths of wood, and a few things that if she had to identify them, she’d swear they were riding crops.

She gulped.

Mac followed her gaze and smiled. “Punishment canes. Rattan.”

He pulled one of the thin, whippy rods from the stand and showed it to her. “Depending on how it’s used it can feel fantastic, or slice the skin open and flay flesh right off the bone.”

“How can that possibly feel good?”

“Turn around,” he softly said.

She eyed him.

“I won’t hurt you,” he promised.

She reluctantly turned.

She forced herself not to flinch when he touched her right shoulder, between her neck and arm, with the cane. “Don’t move.” He started a gentle but firm bouncing rhythm with the wooden rod that didn’t hurt at all. In fact, it felt more like a massage than a maiming.

As she relaxed, he increased the force a little, until she closed her eyes and reached out to the closet doorway for support. After a few minutes, he switched to her other shoulder and repeated the same process until she relaxed so much that her eyes popped open when he stopped.

She turned. “That’s it?”

He slid the cane into the stand. “Did it hurt?”

She shook her head. Hell, it actually felt pretty good there at the end as she’d relaxed and her muscles loosened.

“Maybe one day he’ll let me work you over with a heavy flogger.

When I finish, you’ll think you had a spa massage.” He winked.

She helped him finish putting clothes away. As she opened one drawer, the sight of leather cuffs and a few other intimate odds and ends greeted her.

He noticed her expression. “Sorry, should have warned you about that drawer.”

When they returned to the living room, Sully was already asleep.

Mac retrieved his sweatpants from the playroom and led her downstairs to the utility room to show her where everything was. She stared at the exercise equipment. Maybe she could make use of that now that her body didn’t hurt. Work off a little of her excess physical baggage.

“Can I use this?”

“Of course. Help yourself. May I ask why?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re kidding, right?”

He frowned and leaned against the washer. “No, I’m not. You don’t need to work out.”

Clarisse snorted in disgust. “You know, I appreciate it, and it’s sweet of you, but cut the bullshit.”

“Clarisse.” His firm tone, the one she thought of as his “boat voice.” “I meant it when I said it. You’re beautiful the way you are.

You don’t need to work out. Want to? That’s fine. Don’t you dare let me catch you driving yourself crazy dieting and working out.”

The intensity in his voice made her blush. “Whatever,” she mumbled self-consciously.

He caught her hands and made her look at him. “Sweetie, you are beautiful. I don’t lie. I don’t like getting my ass whipped for that.

Exercising to be healthy, fine, I’ll go along with that. If you try to turn yourself into some skinny little anorexic waif, I’ll force feed you rice pudding.”

“Rice pudding, huh?”

“Yeah. One of my specialties.” He pulled her to him for a quick hug. “I make it with heavy whipping cream.” She snorted, in amusement this time. He laughed when he realized what he’d said.

“Haha, very funny, girlie.”

Another reason Sully hated the painkillers—the dreams. He usually experienced really vivid ones when in the narcotic’s grip.

Mostly bad dreams that left him sweating and trembling as he relived the shooting.

As he napped on the sofa, his dreams turned slightly more distant.

Standing nearby while Jason questioned a man with sandy blond hair who sat on the back bumper of a rescue wagon. The ambulance carrying the man’s sister had just pulled out. Gauging from the blood patterns on the guy’s clothes, he’d been the one to find her, not harm her.

“Please, can I go? I need to be with her!” Tears rimmed his brown eyes, but there was no spray of blood on his face or in his hair to declare him guilty.

“I’m sorry, Mr. MacCaffrey. I’m almost done,” Jason said.

Sully listened as Jason quickly ran through the standard questions.

One of the crime scene techs took pictures of the guy and scrapings from under his fingernails.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll need to take your shirt as evidence.”

The man stood and removed it. One of the EMTs brought over a bottle of saline to rinse the blood off his hands and arms.

If Sully hated anything about his job, it was this, the grieving kin.

Not dealing with them, but struggling against his own memories, demons, and nightmares as he tried to help them through the process.

“I’m going inside, Jayce,” Sully said. Jason nodded. Sully walked to the front door and showed his badge to the uniformed deputy standing guard.

He pulled up short at the large pool of blood on the floor.

Scanning the house, Sully fought to contain his rage. Young female victim, attacked by the husband, most likely. Lots of pictures on the walls, many showing a woman he guessed would turn out to be the victim. Quite a few of them including the man being questioned outside.

He couldn’t stand it. He returned to Jason, who was finishing with MacCaffrey. “Mr. MacCaffrey, give me your keys. I’ll drive you. My partner can follow us.”

Jason arched an eyebrow at him.

The man fumbled in his jeans for his keys and handed them over with a trembling hand.

“Are you sure you don’t want to have the EMTs transport you to the hospital?” he asked. “Get you checked out?” He suspected the man was close to shock.

“No. I want to be with Betsy.”

Jason nodded. “Go ahead. They transported her to Harborside. I’ll catch you there.”

The man led Sully to his truck, grabbed a duffel bag from behind the seat, rummaged around and found a shirt, and pulled it on. From the look of his tan and firm, natural muscles, he was used to hard outdoors work. He climbed into the passenger seat and waited for Sully.

Sully noticed the stacks of collapsed boxes and other moving supplies in the truck bed as he opened the driver side door. He threaded the truck between emergency vehicles and marked patrol cars as he pulled out of the driveway.

“Why do you think it was her husband, Mr. MacCaffrey?” he quietly asked.

“Because the bastard’s been beating on her for years. I told you guys, I was moving her out tonight.” He closed his eyes as tears rolled down his face. He punched the dash. “I should have made her leave him sooner. Dammit!” He broke down sobbing. “This is my fault! I should have been here for her!” He stared out the window. “She met the fucker while I was in Iraq. If I’d been home and not in the fucking Army, I never would have let her marry the bastard. Or I would have killed the fucker myself the first time he hit her.”

“She’s an adult. You can’t force someone to do something if they don’t want to.”

“She’s my little sister!” He moaned. “Aw, fuck. I’ve got to call my baby brother.”

“Baby?”

“Well, that’s how I think of Jim. I’m the oldest, I’m twenty-eight.

He’s twenty.”

“Do you have other family?”

“No.” He slumped against the door. “My mom died last year. It’s just us three kids.”

Sully sympathized. His own mother had been murdered by her boyfriend when he was only seventeen.

MacCaffrey pulled out his cell phone, called, and broke the news to his brother. When he hung up, he stared out the window again.

“I can’t lose her, man. She’s my life, they both are. They’re all I’ve got.”

Sully stayed with Brant at the hospital, using his badge to get them faster access to information and doctors than might normally be available. Sully was on a first name basis with Brant by the time his brother arrived. Within three hours, the prognosis was known and it wasn’t good. Sully called Jason to update him and have him inform the state attorney’s office the charges would most likely be updated to murder within a few days.

He knew he was getting personally involved when he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help it. He saw too much of himself in the younger man.

He sat with the brothers all night as Betsy was taken from surgery and moved into the SICU. He stayed with them for their first visit with her, offering them support and helping them navigate the quagmire of red tape.

Jason tried to get Sully to go home, but he wouldn’t. “I can’t leave them. Not like this. They need someone.”

Jason shook his head. “This isn’t your mom all over again. You need to maintain your distance.”

“Fuck that, they need someone to lean on.” It’s not like Cybil would miss him.

If she was even home.

Better to focus on helping someone else through their pain than having to face his own. At least something good could come of it.

Sully listened to the brothers tell stories about their sister and comforted them when the doctors made their final grim prognosis. By this time, Jason had gone home. Sully stayed with the two men. A uniformed deputy had been assigned to stand watch in the SICU in case the husband showed up. He hadn’t been apprehended yet.

“Brant, let me take you home so you can get a shower and change clothes.” He needed one too. “They won’t let you back in until morning.” The man seemed emotionally numb, trapped in the denial stage of his grief. His younger brother had left for home an hour earlier to shower and change clothes and would be back soon.

On the ride north, Brant slumped in the passenger side. “Why are you doing this for us?” he hoarsely asked. “Not that I’m complaining, seriously.”

Sully gripped the steering wheel and fought his own demons.

“Because I need to.”

“How do I get through this? I can’t lose her. She’s my little sister.”

“You keep putting one foot in front of the other. That’s all you can do. Don’t look ahead. Just focus on the next step.”

Over the days that followed, Sully used some of his personal days to stay with the brothers, console them, sit with them. When the brothers made the final decision to discontinue Betsy’s life support, Sully kept a supporting arm around each man as they watched her life end. He helped them plan the funeral and sat with them through the service.

Despite the horrible circumstances, he considered Brant a friend and knew he was one of the few people who could honestly say he truly understood exactly what Brant felt. The anger, the guilt, the what-ifs.

The I should have been there and done more self-loathing.

The sound of pots and pans in the kitchen awakened Sully. When he glanced at the cable box, he realized he’d napped two hours away.

Damn. So much for working.

Mac heard him trying to sit up and hurried out to help him. “Do you want another pain pill, Master?”

Sully studied his lover’s worried face, his dream of their past fresh in his mind. He smiled as he reached out and, taking Mac’s hand, accepted his help. “No, I’m okay. Let’s try the regular stuff. I’m just really stiff.” Mac helped Sully limp to the bathroom, then grabbed a tube of ointment on their way back to the couch. Clarisse stood in the kitchen entrance and watched as Mac worked on Sully’s leg.

Clarisse moved a little closer. “What does that do?”

Mac didn’t look up from where he knelt on the floor, his hands working the tight muscles in Sully’s leg. “The PT showed me what to do, warned me this could happen from time to time.” He shot Sully a stink-eye look. “Especially when someone doesn’t exercise or work their leg like they’re supposed to so the muscles don’t tighten up.”

“He’s worse than any drill sergeant,” Sully quipped. “You sure can tell he was in the Army.”

“Hey, I don’t hear you complaining over the naughty nurse game.”

Clarisse felt her pulse skip when Sully smiled and reached over to tousle Mac’s hair. “Okay, you’ve got me there, Nurse Brant.”

Mac’s beaming smile stirred something in Clarisse’s heart. He obviously doted on Sully, loved the man. Who was she to judge what they did in their relationship?

She wouldn’t deny a twinge of jealous envy. Bryan had never shown appreciation to her. Especially not the way Sully did with Mac.

Sully appeared to love Mac as much as Mac loved him.

Sully tipped his head back and met her gaze. “Watch out. If Mac gets his hands on you for a backrub, he’ll have you melting into the carpet. He’s great.”

Mac blushed. “Thank you, Master.”

Sully spent the entire day on the sofa, working, napping, and talking with Clarisse. They ordered a pizza for dinner. At bedtime, Clarisse retired for the night and the men returned to their bedroom.

Mac surprised Sully when he brought the punishment cane out and presented it to him, then knelt on the floor next to the bed and bowed his head.

“What’s this for?”

“I owe Master strokes.”

Sully tried to replay the day in his mind, as much as he could remember through the medication, pain, and naps. “Okay, I give. For what? You ditched the clothes.”

Mac related his earlier exchange and demonstration with Clarisse and the cane.

Sully considered it, letting Mac sit and stew for a moment. “You didn’t actually touch her though? Just with the cane?”

“Just with the cane, Master.”

“She enjoyed it?”

“Yes, Master.”

Sully fought the urge to laugh, knowing that would hurt Mac’s feelings. Mac had done more to win back her trust with that short demonstration than he realized.

“Stand up and bend over.”

Mac complied. Sully didn’t stand. He lined up the cane from where he sat and laid only one stroke across Mac’s ass. “That’s all.”

Mac frowned. “Master?”

He immediately gave Mac a second one. “That’s for questioning me.”

Mac took the offered can and returned it to the closet. Only when they were situated in bed did Sully explain. “I only gave you one because you felt you needed it. You didn’t break any rules. You didn’t hurt her. In fact, that might have helped change her perceptions in a good way. You know why you earned the second.”

“Sorry, Master.”

Over the years, during the bad times they’d found the best position for Sully to lay propped against Mac, the larger man’s body supporting his leg at the perfect angle to help relieve the pain.

Snuggled like that, with Mac’s arm around him, Sully settled in and tried to sleep. It not only helped with his pain, but the contact with Mac’s body also helped keep the bad dreams away.

His safe harbor.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me, Brant,” Sully said. “I appreciate it.”

Mac rubbed his chin across the top of Sully’s head. “Thank you for allowing me to serve you, Master.”