by Maren Smith
Witness Protection Program
Masters of the Castle
Rayanna Jamison
Alyssa Hart
Maren Smith
Tabitha Black
BJ Wane
Golden Angel
Raisa Greywood
Piper Stone
Katherine Deane
Kate Richards
Blushing Books
Contents
Prologue
Alyssa Hart and Rayanna Jamison
Taming Terri
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Alyssa Hart
Rayanna Jamison
Maren Smith
Embracing Eden
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Maren Smith
Tabitha Black
Tempting Tasha
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Tabitha Black
BJ Wane
Controlling Carlie
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
BJ Wane
Golden Angel
Freeing Fawn
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Golden Angel
Raisa Greywood
Harboring Holly
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Raisa Greywood
Piper Stone
Capturing Cassandra
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Piper Stone
Katherine Deane and Kate Richards
Guarding Grace
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Katherine Deane
Kate Richards
Epilogue
EBook Offer
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Rayanna Jamison, Alyssa Hart, Maren Smith, Tabitha Black, BJ Wane, Golden Angel, Raisa Greywood, Piper Stone, Kate Richards and Katherine Deane
Witness Protection Program
EBook ISBN: 978-1-61258-811-7
Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design
version 1.2
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
This box set is dedicated to all the editors, proofers, and Beta readers who painstakingly pored over copy after copy in an effort to make our work shine. Your help was invaluable and you all will never know just how much I truly appreciate you.
A special shout out goes to Tabitha Black, Sandra Havro,
Jessica Neuhart, Judy Steiner, and the ladies and gentleman of Blushing Books, who worked so tirelessly to make this perfect. I am ever so grateful for all of you.
Last but not least, to Renee Brooks, PA, without whom
I would be so incredibly lost.
~ Maren Smith
Prologue
Witness Protection Program
“All right, all right.” Marshall chuckled, waving both hands in an effort to quiet the laughter around the conference table. The sun was just barely peeking above the perimeter wall, the coffee was flowing and they’d just completed a very busy end of July weekend. Summer was starting to wind down, school would be starting up again soon, August always seemed to be one of their busier months and Marshall had no reason to believe this August would be any different. Everywhere he went in the Castle, the energy was as high as it had been over the Fourth of July, and that included here at this table.
Jackson and Kade were cracking jokes, Parker was practically bouncing in his seat with a personal announcement just eating him up inside, and the wind-whipped shadows of at least one banner was fluttering across the far wall, letting Marshall know if he didn’t get everyone back on track, the meeting was going to run over its allotted time. He hated it when that happened, already Grimsley was checking his pocket watch. In addition to those select Masters whom he considered his stalwart right hands—Sam, Jackson, Parker, Kade, Alan, Grimsley, and Miranda, headmistress of the house, all of his left-hand lieutenants were gathered here as well.
Twins Travis and Trevor were harassing the ex-military and part-time screw-ups Erik and Reeve. Nelson was at the coffee pot, refilling his cup. Eamon was yawning, probably after another late night. Even Dominick had showed up on time this morning and he never did that. A ‘waste of precious ass-beating time’ was what he liked to call Marshall’s mandatory Monday-morning meetings. In a few hours’ time, when he was mid-flight on his way to O�
��Hare International Airport, when Marshall looked back on this exact moment in time, he supposed this was what should have been his first clue that things were due to go cock-up in a hugely spectacular way.
“Let me have your attention,” Marshall said a little louder, bringing reluctant order back to all those still laughing and chatting around the table. “If we can get through this—”
“Marshall?”
Swiveling his chair around, Marshall looked at Kaylee in surprise. His wife had cracked the door far enough to poke her head in. She had a forbidden cellphone in her hand. It was pressed flat to her chest just above her very pregnant belly in an effort to mute what she was saying for whomever was calling.
“You’ve got a phone call,” she said softly.
“I am in a meeting,” he replied, more astonished than he was upset. They’d been married now almost two years. For more than three she had been his personal secretary, and he would have thought this rule well beyond the need for reminders. Apparently not, though, and how fortunate it was for him that his office came fully stocked with all the reminder switches a discipline aficionado should need. Even for a Monday. “Go back to your desk,” he told her gently. “We’ll talk about this—”
“No,” she said, and it wasn’t until then that he realized that expression of grim worry on her face might not be due to the consequences of interrupting the meeting, but rather because of the phone in her hand. “You need to take this.” She held it out to him. “You need to take it right now.”
Kaylee was not and never had been one to exaggerate drama.
Shoving his chair back, only vaguely aware that the room had fallen silent, Marshall crossed to her, already reaching for the phone. He didn’t recognize the number on the digital display and his wife did not offer a name. She didn’t immediately retreat to her desk either, but stood in the cracked-open doorway, worrying her hands and watching him. The only conversation Marshall heard in that room was the one he started when he put that phone to his ear and said, “To whom am I speaking?”
“Is this Marshall Leaf?” a man on the other end asked.
“This is.” A tiny kernel of foreboding dropped into the pit of Marshall’s stomach. The only people he knew who started conversations by clarifying his name were police and hospital emergency staff. “Who may I ask are you?”
“My name is Holt Nequest, I’m a detective for the Wabasha Police Department. Do you know a woman by the name of Grace Barnes?”
That tiny kernel sprouted ice-cold roots, a multitude of which sank all the way down through his gut and into his legs.
“Grace is my cousin,” Marshall heard himself say. The only one he had, though he hadn’t seen her, not for years. Not since she’d lost her sight. What had that been, ten years ago? Fifteen? She’d been a kid, all knobby knees and missing teeth, scrawny uncoordinated limbs and a smile that could have melted even the iciest of hearts. “Why are you asking?”
Those icy roots gripped tighter. His chest felt tight now too. The cold was growing and it was big enough now to blossom. Detectives from distant police stations never called to tell anyone ‘don’t worry, your cousin is doing just fine’. They didn’t even call to say, ‘we just took your cousin into custody’. If she’d been in an accident—if she were lying injured in a hospital somewhere—he’d be getting this call from a doctor. Marshall wasn’t a stupid man. He did his own math, whittling down the possible options until only one thing was left.
“How soon can you come to Wabasha, Mr. Leaf?”
“If you need me to identify her body, you need to say so now.” Marshall was surprised at how calm he sounded. He didn’t think it was obvious yet, but he felt shaken. The urgency to just move—in any direction—was growing in conjunction with the icy weed inside him.
“Mr. Leaf,” the detective said, each word clipped with deepening determination, “believe me, I am doing everything I can to prevent that from happening, but she is not making that easy for me. I need your help, and so does your cousin.”
She was alive, then.
The relief that swept him weakened his knees and very nearly dropped him to them. He gripped the doorjamb with his free hand instead. Behind him, chairs scooted back from the table as other masters stood. Kaylee looked at his hand and then at him, her silent alarm ratcheting that much higher. She probably didn’t even realize she’d just grabbed her stomach.
“I’ll be on the first flight out,” Marshall promised. He was the Master of the Masters, and despite his reputation, he was neither perfect nor infallible, but he did always keep his word. And to that end, he left without pausing even to end the meeting first.
Marshall Leaf walked into the busy Wabasha police precinct and was greeted by a cacophony of unpleasant sounds. Phones were ringing, computer keyboards were clacking, and no less than sixty people were crowded into a space meant for twenty. There were ten desks, all of which were occupied. People were giving statements or lodging complaints. Arguments had broken out at two of them, one of which had grown heated. A man banged on the vending machine that had just eaten his money until the officer at the front desk yelled for him to knock it off. But nowhere in any of this mess did Marshall spot his cousin.
It had been a long time since last he’d seen her. He gave every woman with Grace’s chestnut brown hair a searching look, but who knew? She could have dyed her hair. She could be tall and thin by now or short and plump. She hadn’t had all of her adult teeth the last time he’d seen her. What exactly should he be looking for? Not a girl of twelve, like his mind kept trying to match up against all these unfamiliar faces, that much was certain.
“Can I help you?” the cop at the front desk asked, once Marshall made his way to it.
“I believe Detective Nequest is expecting me.” Marshall supplied his ID. He’d been working at the Castle for so long, it always gave him a start when he saw himself in photographs. He frowned as the officer logged his information. He really ought to smile more. He wasn’t yet forty, and already he was developing fine lines.
“One moment, please.” Picking up the interoffice phone, the reception officer dialed an extension. “Marshall Leaf, here to see you,” he said once the other end picked up. A few minutes later, a man in a dark suit and red-checkered tie came striding just a little too purposefully through the chaos of the rest of the precinct. His dark hair was mussed. His coat was unbuttoned and wrinkled, like he’d slept in it, except the dark circles under his eyes argued against that assumption.
“Mr. Leaf?” Detective Nequest stuck out his hand, a greeting Marshall accepted without hesitation. “Come with me please.”
Marshall followed the detective’s hurried stride back through the chaos of the precinct. “My cousin—” he tried to ask, but stopped abruptly when the detective shot him a silencing look.
“Not here,” he warned, his dark eyes sweeping back through the room behind them, checking to see if anyone was close enough to overhear them. Another of those icy kernels dropped into the pit of Marshall’s stomach. Finding no one, the detective said, “Follow me.”
Marshall followed, each step bringing with it another question, all of which he kept locked behind tightly pressed lips. He was brought to an office door with the detective’s name stenciled on the textured glass. Holding the door so Marshall could slip in past him, Nequest took another cautious look around before he slipped inside.
Marshall almost didn’t recognize the young woman huddled on the couch with her knees hugged to her chest. Her long brown hair swept over her shoulders to shield her face like a curtain. “Grace?”
Her head came up, and it was her eyes that finally clued him in. They were his Aunt Sadie’s sea-blue eyes, so much like his mother’s that it was uncanny, with his family’s infamous piercing stare. It was the same one that had damn near made him a legend from the moment the Castle opened its doors. His relief was palpable. It swept over him on waves so overwhelming that he almost didn’t notice how his younger cousin stared just a little too
low and off to one side for her truly to be staring at him. Blind since she was twelve, she faked having sight very well. The moment he moved, her ears locked her in to exactly where he was and she reoriented the direction of her gaze as well as the reach of her hand.
