Master of Freedom: A Mountain Masters Novella

by Cherise Sinclair

  “When this hit the news, the gov got pressure to shortcut the process. And he’s coming up for re-election.” Sawyer shook his head in wonder. “I’ll be a free man. You have no idea how damned fantastic it feels.”

  “You deserve this,” she said softly. “Thank you for my life, Sawyer.”

  “You know, I can’t fix my mistake and bring Ezra back, but maybe I helped balance things a bit.”

  “Sawyer, you—”

  “So.” He shifted uncomfortably and—typical man—changed the subject away from anything emotional. “What’s been happening at the prison? You keep up with the gossip?”

  She let him have his escape. “Some. Jacob Wheeler has a cracked rib and a concussion, but is home. His sister says he’s already so grumpy she thinks he should get his butt back to work tomorrow.”

  Sawyer barked a laugh, groaned, and clutched his side. “Fuck.”

  “Sorry. By the way, he also has a private practice if you want to remain with him.”

  Sawyer hesitated. Nodded. “Yes.”

  “I’ll leave his phone number with you.” He’d keep up the counseling; progress would continue. Pulling in a relieved breath, Gin continued with the gossip. “Physically, Karen is all right. Mentally—that will take time. Virgil—he’s a lieutenant in Bear Flat—says the warden will probably be replaced after an investigation. Apparently, some of the correctional officers were slow to respond, whether from bribes or because a riot earns them extra pay.”

  “That’s ugly. Atticus mentioned a counselor was involved?”

  “She’s been arrested for aiding and abetting the escape. Her license will be revoked.”

  “Crazy woman.” His keen gaze took her in. “And you? You going to be able to return to the prison after this?”

  She shook her head. “If—if I had to, I could tough through it, but I wasn’t happy there. I miss working with families and children. Jacob Wheeler offered me a place in his private practice. I can go back to doing what I love.” Hearing children laughing. Bringing people closer together.

  “Good deal.” He eyed her cautiously. “With the kidnapping and those assholes, maybe you should…see someone.”

  Aww. Her heart warmed. If he could see past his own problems to someone else’s, he was really on the road to recovery. “You’re right. I’ll be on workman’s comp for a while, so I’m flying to San Diego where I spent a year after getting my Masters. I can stay with friends and see someone who specializes in after-trauma cases like mine.”

  “Good enough.”

  “I…” She chewed her lip for a second and offered, “I’d already sent in a report about Slidell. Now, with an investigation of the mental health department’s involvement in a prison break and with my concerns about him on record, I doubt he’ll be working there much longer.”

  Sawyer’s smile flickered. “Good.”

  She patted his hand. “How about you? Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

  “I’m considering my options as well. Att gave me a few ideas.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Ms. Vir—nah, if you’re messing with my brother, I get to call you Gin.”

  She could feel her cheeks heat. Messing with. But he was right. “Yes. Call me Gin.”

  “Good enough.” He studied her. “What’s going on with you two, anyway?”

  “We’re”—messing wasn’t a word she was going to use, thank you very much—“seeing each other.” She grinned. “I saw him yesterday. He was banged up, bruised, scraped, and all he complained about was the paperwork.”

  “Bet he’s getting grief all right, but nothing a few forms can’t overcome.”

  “He didn’t mention having trouble.” She scowled. “For what?”

  “He took civilians with him after escaped convicts.” Sawyer made a disgusted noise. “Because being a superhero, he should’ve rescued you alone, right? Even worse, he took Fido to a gunfight.”

  “Fido’s name is Trigger, thank you very much. And he’s going to be impossible to live with. He was already conceited.”

  “Must be quite a dog. I hope I’ll get to meet him. Damned if that isn’t a good thing to be able to say.”

  “And to hear. Come by anytime.” Gin patted his hand. “You’ll be welcome.”

  A tap, tap, tap came from the door.

  Sawyer tilted his chin toward Summer, who stood in the doorway. “I think Blondie wants to tell you that your time is up.”

  “I have to catch a plane. Bless you, Sawyer; thank you for my life.”

  He only managed a nod; she hadn’t expected more.

  Straightening her shoulders, she headed out. Time to face her fears.

  * * * *

  Fuck, he hated motel rooms. Stuck in Sacramento for the investigative cleanups, Atticus felt like putting his fist through the hotel room wall. When he wasn’t answering inane questions for every bureaucrat in California, he was filling out reports for them.

  Next time there was a prison riot, he’d dump the paper-pushers in with the inmates; before nightfall, even hardened convicts would be begging to go into solitary.

  Time for a treat. He fast-dialed Gin’s number as he had every night since she’d been gone.

  “Atticus?” The delight in her voice almost did him in.

  “Gin.”

  “How are you doing?” They both spoke the question at the same time.

  Her laugh made him smile. “I’m fine. And you? Aren’t you supposed to be at the capitol today?”

  “I am.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully. He’d talked with enough abused women to know she wasn’t fine. But he’d give her the play and circle back. Maybe show her how honesty was done. “The trip down almost killed me—felt like I was being stabbed every time we hit a damned bump.”

  “Oh Lordy, I know. Me too.”

  Summer and Kallie had taken her to see Sawyer on the way to catch her flight to San Diego. They’d told him about the way she’d winced with every jolt. How stiffly she walked. And yet, his little magnolia had detoured to check on Sawyer in the hospital. How could he not love her?

  "Are you all right though?” she asked.

  He rested his back against the headboard and ignored the shit-bland artwork on the wall. “Almost back to normal.” The docs had said nothing was busted, after all. Inflamed, irritated, a few rips here and there.

  “I still can’t believe you survived diving off that rock. When I realized… You’re lucky I didn’t smack you upside the head for doing something so crazy.”

  Yeah, he’d rather thought she’d been considering it. “Was worth it.” When he thought of her in the hands of those bastards, he still felt as if he’d explode with anger. And fear. “When are you coming back from San Diego?”

  “After my last session on Friday.”

  “Seems too fast to be through all the therapy.”

  “I’ll continue with someone in Sonora every week or two for a while, but honestly, I’ve worked through a lot of the aftereffects already. This type of therapy is like seeing a horror flick over and over until it doesn’t have any effect.”

  Sounded fucking awful. And no therapy would erase his memory of her with a weapon pointed at her back. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Oh, honey, you have. Aside from rescuing me, just knowing there are good men, like you, makes a big difference.” She laughed. “And having all the awesome sex before, well…”

  Relief eased the constriction around his chest. Damn, she was a strong woman. One who’d hold up against anything life had to offer. “Then I’ll see you Friday.” He hesitated. “It’s probably best if we skip the BDSM camping trip this weekend. You shouldn’t—”

  “I should,” she said firmly. “I’ve been looking forward to it. I know you agreed to help with the setup in the afternoon, so Summer and I will drive up together, and I’ll meet you there.”

  “Virginia, I’m not sure—”

  “Don’t you go all Dom on me, Atticus Ware.” Her laugh was delightful. “Because it makes me hot,
and I’m way too far away.”

  He could hear the breathiness in her voice. The heat. “In that case, I’ll call you tomorrow—and see you at the camp on Friday.” Where he’d make his little subbie pay for the erection she’d given him.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Gin was late. Very late. Atticus leaned against a tree, arms crossed on his chest, watching the kinksters prepare for the evening. Far down a dirt road behind their lodge, the Hunts had a wide clearing set up for BDSM activities. Split logs formed a St. Andrew’s cross. Several actual sawhorses—although modified—created spanking benches. A tipped-over wine barrel with iron bolts welded to the rim was perfect for bending a subbie over the staves and restraining her there.

  Chains dangled from tree branches. Ropes wrapped around tree trunks could be used to spread-eagle a submissive.

  The night sky was beautifully clear, the waning moon not yet visible.

  More people arrived. Still no Gin. With each late-arriving car, he’d expected to see her emerge. How long could it take to dress for the evening? Or had Summer driven them into a ditch or something?

  Uneasiness curled in his gut. He might paddle Gin’s cute little ass when she got there for making him worry. Making him wait. After all, it’d been six days since he’d had her in his arms. Even longer since they’d made love.

  He looked up at the approach of two people. “Hey, deVries. Good to see you and Lindsey here.”

  “Ware.” DeVries was muscular, iron-jawed, and always looked a bit battered. He had both the buzz-cut hair and the arrogance of a Marine drill sergeant.

  Made Atticus all nostalgic. As he clasped hands with deVries, Atticus smiled down at deVries’s submissive, Lindsey. Average height and weight. Big brown eyes. Her curly brown hair with colorful red and purple streaks was indicative of her vibrant personality. “How’re you doing, pet? Did you get your business settled down south?”

  She grinned. “There are a lot of bad guys now stewing in Texas prisons. Life is good.”

  Excellent. He might not enjoy Gin’s girly flicks, but damned if he didn’t like a happy ending. The two here had gone through a lot to get theirs.

  Speaking of happy endings, once the pleasantries here were done, Atticus was going after his own. If Gin was still trying to figure out what fetwear to put on, he’d haul her ass back up here naked. After he tumbled her in bed first.

  They might not make it back here.

  Damn, he missed her.

  “Always figured the mountains were a quiet place,” deVries commented. “Not yours, it seems. You okay?”

  “Almost back to normal.”

  Lindsey smiled at him. “The last time I saw you, you had a goatee. I like the beard better.”

  “This takes less work.” And was softer on his little submissive’s inner thighs. Atticus jerked his chin toward a slender young man in a showy black and gold chain harness with matching thong. “I see you brought your whipping boy. You planning to beat on him tonight?”

  DeVries glanced over. “We had some fun last night. Stan came late, so I got Dixon all warmed up and ready to welcome him to the mountains.”

  DeVries and Dixon were into S&M; their partners weren’t. So the sadist would give Dixon the pain he needed and return him to Stan. Dixon’s partner said he got the best part of the deal with his submissive aroused and ready to fuck. After watching deVries work on Dixon, Lindsey was usually aroused as well…which deVries enjoyed. Apparently, their odd arrangement worked.

  “Dixon and Stan are still together?” Which was undoubtedly why the collar around Dixon’s neck was a no-nonsense black leather—Stanfeld’s style.

  “They’re so cute.” Lindsey gave a reminiscent sigh. “Dixon cried when Stan collared him.” Her fingers touched her neck before her hand dropped…and her expression said it all. DeVries’s submissive wanted a collar too.

  Atticus regarded her. He looked forward to when Gin would show the same longing. She already wanted him. Wanted his command. Eventually, she’d trust him enough to give him…everything.

  Before he went to get her, he might as well have some fun with this couple here. DeVries was such a hard-ass, he was a pleasure to torment. So he turned his gaze to Lindsey.

  “You look a little naked there, Tex.” Chancing his luck—considering his ribs and shoulder were still on the tender side—Atticus stepped between Lindsey and deVries. He took her hands and held them up, looking at her arms. “Naked wrists too.”

  DeVries growled from behind him.

  Ah well, he hadn’t done anything foolhardy in a week now. “I could fix that problem for you. Even if it’s only for an evening, I like collaring and cuffing a sub. Keeps other Doms from getting too forward.” Like he was being right now.

  When Lindsey gave him a nervous look, he winked.

  She blinked and—smart cookie—dropped her head to hide the laughter in her eyes. “Um…”

  “Hands off, asshole.” DeVries shoved him away from Lindsey and raised his voice. “Simon, you got a spare set of cuffs in your bag? And a collar?”

  “Really?” Lindsey sounded breathless. “A collar too?”

  “Babe, you’ve worn a play collar at Dark Haven.” DeVries ran his fingers through her hair.

  Lindsey’s face fell. “But the staff collar is only to show Xavier is looking out for me, not that I…”

  Belong to someone. Atticus could hear what she didn’t say. From the dawning comprehension in his face, so could deVries.

  Well, my work here is done—although it had become more intense than he’d intended. Silently, Atticus retreated as Simon strolled across the clearing with a set of leather cuffs and collar.

  Lindsey went to her knees without being asked.

  When deVries buckled on the collar—the tangible signs of his ownership—tears of happiness filled her eyes.

  Terse as always, deVries didn’t give her any long speeches. “Mine. You’re mine.” He pulled her to her feet, wrapped her close, and took her mouth. “Fuck, I love you.”

  Her arms went around his neck. “I love you.”

  What wouldn’t Atticus give to hear the words from Gin? He headed for his pickup.

  Halfway across the clearing, a pretty female detached from a group of Doms and submissives. She stopped a few feet from him and politely waited for him to acknowledge her.

  “Was there something you wanted?” Atticus strove for politeness, even if his voice came out a growl.

  “Yes, Sir.” She arched her back, drawing attention to her breasts. “I-I was wondering if you plan to do suspension today, and maybe you need a rope bunny? I’m…I’d love…”

  Love. That fucking word.

  Well, honestly, leave a Dominant for a few days and look what happened. Gin put her hand over her stomach to silence the butterflies. A minute or so ago, the sight of Atticus taking the hands of a lovely streaky-haired submissive had brought Gin to a complete halt.

  But he hadn’t done anything other than hold her arms up in the air. When another Dom had given Atticus a territorial scowl and quickly put cuffs and collar on her, Gin knew Atticus had been jerking the Dom’s chain.

  The man had an evil sense of humor.

  Only now, he was being opportuned by a beautiful young woman. And from the way she presented herself, her offer included…everything.

  Gin slapped the coil of his heavy hemp rope against her thigh. She was letting last-minute qualms overwhelm her. He’d risked his life for her. He’d even admitted to Wyatt he’d nearly puked on the climb up the boulder. He loved her—she’d heard him.

  She was the wimp who hadn’t said it to him. She huffed a laugh. Why was opening her heart so much more difficult than facing down death?

  With a mental hitching up of her big girl panties—or should she say big girl thong?—she walked across the clearing.

  Kallie and Becca noticed and started toward her.

  She waved them off, but their concern touched her. Friends. She had friends. Her grip tightened on the rope. Now sh
e had to lasso herself a man. Or, rather, let him do it.

  Her steps faltered. The other submissive was truly lovely.

  Gin stiffened her spine. No second thoughts.

  And no fighting. Knocking the young woman on her perky little ass would be ill mannered, so Gin fell back on her mama’s lessons. She stopped beside Atticus, facing the young woman, and gave her a smile. “Oh honey, I’m so sorry. Bless your heart, but this Dom is taken.”

  A raspy laugh came from beside her.

  The woman straightened. “So he told me. Excuse me, please.”

  Gin managed to close her mouth.

  With a slight bow to Atticus, the submissive returned to her friends, leaving Gin to face the Dom she’d claimed.

  Atticus turned. Raised an eyebrow.

  Uh-oh. Submissives weren’t supposed to interrupt conversations. Hopefully that Xavier person wasn’t here today. She didn’t bother to look. Instead, Gin filled her gaze with all that was her man. A bruise still darkened his left cheekbone; bandages covered the ends of two fingers. He was moving slower and without his usual dangerous smoothness. Because he’d hurt himself saving her life. He wasn’t dressed in fancy fetwear like some of the Doms, but wore only a pair of jeans, boots, and a black T-shirt. She’d never wanted anyone so much in her whole life. “Atticus.”

  Not knowing how to tell him what was in her heart, she handed him the ropes used for suspension. Did the offering tell him enough?

  When he studied her without speaking, her hopes sank. “I—”

  “Am I?”

  “Are you what?”

  “Taken?” His thumb and fingers closed on her chin to angle her face toward the moonlight.

  This was her chance to tell him how she felt. “You… I—” The words choked in her throat; the planet halted its spinning.

  His almost inaudible sigh of disappointment broke her heart. She grabbed his hand and flattened his palm between her breasts. Her heart was pounding madly. “You—you are taken.” Sucking in a breath helped. She tried another.

  “Gin.” When she saw the warmth and pleasure in his gaze, the earth started turning again. “Good. Good girl.”