Servicing the Target

by Cherise Sinclair

  “Oh, that really sucks,” Sally said.

  “Men can really suck,” Kim muttered.

  “So you told them to sod off,” Olivia said in approval.

  “Did you tie their balls into pretzel shapes before you quit?” Linda asked and made the rest laugh.

  “I might have felt better about everything if I had.” But, over the years, apparently her frustrated resentment had eased. She knew who she was. What she could do. And had proven herself over and over.

  “Did you like catching crooks? Is that why you’re a bounty hunter now?” Uzuri asked.

  “I enjoy the chase, yes. Although, I’ve got a PI license and take cases for a friend now and then, I prefer the straight-forwardness of tossing a bad guy in jail—whether I do it as a cop or a bail bond agent.”

  The main annoyance in the bail bond agent job—aside from Robert—was the way her uncles would have preferred to keep her in the office, not risking herself on the streets.

  “The other people don’t give you grief for being female?” Sally asked.

  “Not the same way. I lead the fugitive recovery team.” She grinned. “And, although I won’t tolerate being treated as less competent than a male, I rarely have to punch someone to prove I am anymore.”

  Linda, mother of two grown children, smiled knowingly. “I bet you fought your way through grade school.”

  “I came home with more black eyes and bruises than my two brothers combined.” Anne grinned. Looking back without the reddish lens of anger, she had to say, she’d had some fun.

  “I don’t like violence,” Uzuri whispered, her eyes haunted.

  Anne gentled her voice. Share with us, Uzuri. “Did you have to fight someone?”

  “No. I don’t know how.” Uzuri shrank into the cushions.

  Anne glanced at Olivia. Olivia tapped her watch…Uzuri’s deadline was going to end soon and then they’d get to the bottom of this.

  “I didn’t fight at one time either,” Beth wrapped an arm around Uzuri’s shoulders. Beth’s ex had left her with scars that would never fade. “But I learned how.”

  Sally bumped Uzuri’s shoulder on the other side. “Are you ever going to join our self-defense classes? Jessica hasn’t been able to come for a while, and Kari is hit-and-miss, because of baby Zane. One more person there would be good.”

  “Maybe,” Uzuri said. But from the tone, maybe meant no.

  Too softhearted to push, Sally changed the subject. “Speaking of which, you have baby duty tomorrow afternoon, right?”

  Uzuri shook her head. “I have the day after.”

  “I have tomorrow,” Anne said. Jessica’s mother and aunt had shown up for a couple of days after Sophia’s birth, then Z’s mother. But Z wasn’t the sort of man who wanted live-in help, especially doting grandmothers.

  So the Shadowlands women had set up a schedule to drop by at a set time every afternoon to bring food and run errands for Jessica. Or babysit so Jessica could get out of the house.

  Anne found the visits the perfect excuse to go and cuddle Sophia. And every time Anne was there, the desire to have a child grew stronger. She’d never felt the need before, but somehow, she’d…changed—there was that damn word again—and now she wanted to open her life to a child.

  It was terrifying to imagine being responsible for a little person, and yet, everything in her simply…yearned. When she left Jessica’s house, her arms still felt as if they should be holding a baby. The lingering fragrance of baby powder and milk made her smile.

  And babies seemed to be everywhere she looked.

  But wants weren’t needs…and a child was the last thing she needed right now.

  Chapter Seven

  Ben tapped his fingers on the desk before glancing at the clock. Fuck. Saturday at ten p.m. It seemed pretty obvious that Anne was avoiding the Shadowlands this weekend.

  Was avoiding him.

  He scowled at the door. Dammit. He wasn’t a pimple-faced teen to misread a woman’s signals. He’d had his fair share of lovers, and he knew she’d fucking enjoyed everything they’d done.

  She’d bailed out of what could have been something fine. He was tempted to call her a coward.

  But no. She had a point. He wasn’t a slave. Or…he didn’t think he was. He could try—and would—to be with her, but would she even consider it? Had she ever tried to be with a man who wasn’t, maybe, totally a slave?

  Seemed to him that they should at least give it a shot and see where the path took them.

  The phone rang. He picked it up. “Shadowlands.”

  “Ben, this is Uzuri. Can you tell Master Z that I won’t be in tonight?”

  “Sure.” He hesitated. “He’s going to want a reason, you know.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing bad. Not really.” She let out a frustrated sigh and then the deluge broke, her words coming faster and faster. “I was supposed to move into my new duplex all this week, and I’d arranged vacation days and everything, only the previous renters got messed up and ended up staying until today, and the landlords couldn’t do much about it without taking them to court.” She gulped air, and Ben was grinning as the speed of her speech increased as well as the unhappy whine. “So I only have tomorrow to pack and arrange for some movers, only at this point I might not be able to because it’ll be Sunday, only I have to go out of town Monday and for a week and my lease is up and this is just a mess.”

  He’d have to agree. “I have an SUV and free time. I know a couple of guys with pickups. Want some help?”

  Silence.

  He worried for a moment that he’d scared the little submissive and then he heard a screech of glee. “Would you? Really—you could help? I can drive back and forth, but I can’t get the big stuff. There’s not that much but—really? You’d help?”

  Fuck, she was cute. “Really. What time are you starting?”

  “I can’t get the keys until nine in the morning. But I can start loading boxes from my apartment, only maybe that’s too early for—”

  “I’ll be there at eight,” he said firmly.

  “Oh, man. Thank you, Ben. Thank you!”

  “Address?”

  He took down all the information he’d need, shoved the paper in his pocket, texted Z about his missing trainee…and asked for permission to go a step further. The Shadowlands Masters essentially “owned” the little submissive. They’d pitch in.

  He received an instant agreement. That was Master Z.

  After pulling out the files of the Masters—and Mistresses—Ben started writing down numbers.

  * * * *

  “Ben.” Anne squeezed her cell phone. Her heart had not just skipped a beat. Absolutely not. “Is anything wrong?”

  Why else would he be calling her so late on a Saturday night?

  “Yes and no. It’s Uzuri. She needs to move and only has tomorrow to do it in. The previous tenants screwed her over and didn’t vacate the place on time, so she’s doing a rush move. For some reason, she didn’t call on her buddies.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  Independent and fun loving, Uzuri every now and then displayed behaviors—like this insecurity—that showed she had issues. Z should never have let her get away with putting her past traumas off-limits.

  “A bunch of us are going over in the morning to get her moved,” Ben said. “Any chance you want to help?”

  “Of course.” An edge of hurt eroded her pleasure at hearing Ben’s voice. Why had no one else called to tell her what was going on? “As early as you need me.”

  “Perfect. Can you meet Uzuri at her new place and get the keys from her? We’ll have trucks coming and going most of the day.”

  “Absolutely.”

  As Ben gave her the information, she jotted it down. He finished with, “I’ll see you.”

  And yes, her heart had undeniably slid into a syncopated jazz beat. Whatever had happened to her proverbial control?

  Chapter Eight

  Somewhere around noon in Uzuri’s new place,
Anne walked through the rooms, surveying the work being done. The off-white living room walls and dark blue tile floors were scoured clean. The small dining area likewise. Linda and Beth were washing down the windows and the white trim.

  In the kitchen, she smiled at Andrea. “How’s it going in here?”

  Looking like an autumn day with her curly golden-brown hair, amber eyes, and darkly golden skin, Andrea was an inch or so taller than Anne’s five-eight. Cullen called her his Amazon.

  Andrea waved her hand at the three high school students in ratty jeans and ripped T-shirts. “I mustered my fastest workers. Cleaning here is done and ready for the unpackers, right, guys?”

  The boys all grinned. “You bet.” “Word.” “Sí.”

  Anne looked around and marveled at the gleaming blue tile counters, oven, and open cupboards. One boy was finishing up the refrigerator, which positively sparkled. “Amazing.”

  Earlier Anne had arrived to find Uzuri in tears. When management had handed over the duplex keys, they’d told her their cleaning service didn’t work weekends. Not having a choice and hoping for the best, Uzuri had accepted the keys.

  The best didn’t happen. The place was a disaster. Even meth houses were cleaner. The rooms had garbage strewn everywhere, and the stench of rotting food from the kitchen, urine from the bathroom, and sheer filth was overwhelming. Uzuri’s dark skin had taken on a green tint as she gagged.

  Anne had firmly sent her friend back to finish packing up her old apartment, then had called and redirected half the gang to the new location for emergency cleaning.

  One more call had successfully summoned Andrea, who’d planned to arrive later to help with the unpacking. But, the woman owned a cleaning business. At Anne’s beseeching explanation, she’d come right away and brought along some part-timers.

  “You are all wonder-workers,” Anne told the lads. “I’m so glad you were available.”

  They gave her the wide-eyed looks of youths more accustomed to being cursed than complimented, then puffed up their skinny chests. So cute.

  She exchanged smiles with Andrea before telling the boys, “Unfortunately, now I have to send you off to do the yucky bathroom.” After smothering a grin at their groans, she added, “However, I ordered pizza to make up for the trauma. By the time you get done, food will be here. You’ll definitely deserve a break.”

  “Awesome.” Exchanging fist-bumps, the troop moved on to their next assignment.

  “You’re as good at motivating the young ones as you are at keeping your slaves in line,” Andrea said. “By the way, Dan and Ben are outside with a load of kitchen stuff and living room furniture. Ben came in a minute ago with Starbuck’s. One of the cups has your name on it.”

  “Does it now?” Her pulse pattered faster—only from the thought of getting some caffeine in her system. No other reason. No. In the long carton filled with cups, only one held a name. “ANNE’S.”

  She picked it up and sipped. Mocha coffee. He’d remembered her choice of brew at Z’s house. That was…impressive.

  Of course, her slaves had all learned her preferences, but tended to wait for directions from her. Ben’s combination of independence and thoughtfulness could easily grow addictive.

  “Hey, Anne, where do you want us now?” Sally asked. Gabi appeared behind her, both women bedraggled. “The bedroom is clean and ready for furniture.”

  “Excellent timing. Sam and Holt are in route with the bedroom stuff.” She pointed to the coffee carton. “Why don’t you grab coffee while I get boxes hauled in here? You two can work on setting up the kitchen.”

  Gabi took a long look. “Wow, ’drea, your people did a great job. It looks completely different.”

  As Andrea beamed, Anne pulled out her phone and took some pictures. “For Uzuri’s lease, I snapped a bunch of pictures when I came. But now you can have before and after shots for your website.”

  “What a grand idea.” Andrea smiled. “Thank you.”

  When Anne checked out the living room, she shook her head. The men had brought in a couch and chairs and arranged them in absurd locations.

  Dan walked past and set down a chair against the wall—in the spot where the television should go.

  “Honestly,” Anne said under her breath. After a second of thinking, she rounded up Linda and asked her to direct the furniture placement. “Beth, when the bedroom truck comes, can you do the same?”

  “Of course.”

  “Grab some coffee while you have a chance and—” Recognizing the footsteps, Anne turned.

  Followed by a beautiful golden retriever, Ben carried a heavy armchair into the room all by himself. Every muscle in his upper half was so pumped up that his brown Merle Haggard T-shirt was straining over his chest.

  Anne had a craving simply to bite into the curve of his biceps. Yum.

  When his gaze hit her, he smiled slowly. “Anne.”

  “Ben.” The growing heat in his eyes slid beneath her skin and deep into her core. Fighting the urge to pull him to her, she took a step back.

  “Is this your dog? He’s gorgeous.” She held her hand out.

  “Yep, that’s Bronx.”

  With a well-loved dog’s confidence, the retriever trotted over, tail waving gracefully. When the dog informed her that they were now best of buddies, she stole herself a quick snuggle.

  Rising, she saw Ben watching her with a half-smile and a bit of envy. The man obviously wanted his own hug.

  Anne cleared her throat. “Can you—”

  “Eeeks!” Sally’s shriek came from the kitchen.

  Anne ran in, Ben behind her, close enough that when she jumped back, she hit his solid frame. A huge flying cockroach, half the size of her hand, was crawling across the counter. Oh, God. She tried to back up farther. Get it away!

  “Ben.” She pointed to the ghastly black palmetto bug with a shaky hand. “Please.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” He swung into action.

  As he disposed of the creature, Anne retreated into the dining area.

  Sally followed. “Christ on a cockroach, did you see the size of that monster?”

  “Nothing that size should be allowed to have wings.” Anne’s heart rate hadn’t slowed.

  “I’m so sorry me and Uzuri and Rainie tried to scare you with fake bugs last spring.” Sally put an arm around Anne’s waist. “Talk about karmic justice. That thing almost gave me a heart attack.”

  “I know the feeling,” Anne said in a dry voice. When she’d opened her locker at the Shadowlands and seen bugs everywhere… Well. It had taken her far too long to realize they were rubber.

  A minute later, their defender returned. Hair pulled back in a rough tie, broad shoulders military straight, expression bland…and his tiger-colored eyes were dancing with laughter.

  “Thank you, Ben,” Anne said. “Nicely done.”

  “I swear, that’s the only reason God put males on this earth—for bug disposal,” Sally said.

  Anne considered, her gaze still caught in Ben’s. “They might have a…few…other reasons.”

  His eyes warmed.

  “Yeah. I made the mistake of saying that to Vance and he told Galen and they spent an entire night demonstrating. Reason after reason after reason.” Sally sounded positively disgruntled. “I couldn’t even get out of bed the next morning.”

  Anne’s lips twitched.

  Being a clever lad, Ben didn’t say anything, but his gaze stayed on Anne’s in a way that said he’d be delighted to perform his own demonstration.

  The temptation was far too appealing. She shook her head. “Ben, can you help Linda get the living room arranged, please?”

  Rather than looking irritated, he came to token attention. “Be my pleasure, Ma’am.”

  Hearing Anne’s request, Linda waved him into the room and pointed to a chair. “That chair should sit over there, Ben.” She indicated the far corner. “And the media stand goes against that wall.”

  “Yeah,” Ben muttered. “I told Dan that.”
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  Anne grinned. He had a good eye—and Dan didn’t. What a nice reminder that a person shouldn’t be judged by outward appearance.

  Her phone beeped and displayed a text from Nolan. She lifted her voice. “People, the old apartment is empty, and the last load is on the way.”

  Cheers came from the various rooms.

  Anne checked on the bathroom crew. Although disgusted by the stench, the boys were working energetically.

  One glanced at her. “And my mama said my room was a pigsty—she ain’t seen nothing.”

  The next truck arrived, and Sam started bringing in the load. Silver-gray hair, pale blue eyes, darkly tanned, the rancher might be in his fifties, but he carried the oak dresser as if it weighed no more than a toothpick.

  Ben would be as tough, no matter how old he got.

  In the bedroom, Anne found Beth waiting and sipping her coffee.

  As Sam set the dresser down, Anne told him, “Beth is in charge of this room. She’ll tell you where to put the furniture.”

  Beth gave the notorious Shadowlands sadist a nervous look. She’d been married to a truly abusive sadist. Since meeting Nolan, she’d overcome many of her fears, but Anne had noticed that male sadists still made her a bit wary when her Dom wasn’t present.

  This would be an excellent time for her to work on that.

  Sam’s glance at Anne held amusement, but when he looked at Beth, his face was gentle. He said in his roughly graveled voice, “Didn’t bring my whip, missy. Instruct away.”

  Neither one of them missed Beth’s relieved sigh.

  Good enough. Smiling, Anne headed to the kitchen, passing Holt on the way in with a bedside stand.