The Death of You

by Allyson Young

  Connor’s gut clenched at the idea. “It’s too residential an area for us to go around the back. There’ll be people in the houses all around us, looking out the windows. I feel ’em.” He well knew how these kinds of areas were policed, if they all hadn’t been remodeled and rented out. People still looked out for one another, mostly because they’d been raised that way. Their own suburban home sat on a big plot of land quite separate from the neighbors and while he knew all about them, he didn’t know one of them.

  “I tried the bell twice. Nothing.” The sharp rat-a-tat-tat of Rafe’s knuckles filled the early morning air but elicited no response.

  “Wanna try the people next door?”

  Connor considered. “Sure. Tell them we’re here to check the tenant’s security system.”

  “If they even know she has one.”

  “I’ll bet they do.”

  It took about fifteen minutes to canvass the homes on either side of Maddy’s and two across the street. Apparently she’d moved in only a few weeks before she’d joined Vantage, and it was rare that anyone saw her. The elderly lady to the south thought Maddy might be ill, or working from home, and offered up the tidbit that even groceries got delivered. She appeared prepared to chat forever, without even a modicum of self-preservation or a consideration of Maddy’s privacy. Another neighbor confirmed with Rafe that Maddy had a friend visit from time to time, a girl who sometimes ran errands, to judge by the packages. She usually drove Maddy’s car. None were surprised that a single gal had a security system, although a couple wondered why she didn’t have a dog, except there were probably rules with those kinds of rentals.

  It was clear Maddy had politely rejected any overtures while not incurring any rancor, and was left alone. No one mentioned the regular excursions to Vantage, and Connor wondered how Maddy had managed to fly under the radar for those. Maybe folks were in bed when she left and were still sleeping when she got home, or maybe that cape she wore served to conceal her appearance.

  As they made their way back to the truck, Connor summed up what they knew. “Anonymous for sure, and well protected by a state-of-the-art security system. They think she works from home, might not be well, but she has someone to check in on her so they don’t feel obligated to be neighborly. Not a roommate. Nobody mentioned the friend’s car, or how she gets here, like in a cab or something. Who is our girl?”

  “She didn’t answer the door and we only saw one person get in the car.” Rafe halted so abruptly Connor clipped him with his elbow. “Not a sound from that house and it felt empty. So that was her leaving. Fuck me, Connor. What if she’s gone?”

  “We can’t break into her home, Rafe, not even to look around. And we can’t make a case for her needing help, to cover us. Not after we’ve canvassed and said nothing about it. I doubt we’d be helping our girl if the neighbors call the cops on us, if she hasn’t gone.”

  “Shit.”

  “Let’s go see Alice.”

  ****

  The submissive curled up at Ishmael’s feet, obviously well used and satisfied, a slumberous glow softening her features. The big Dom stroked Alice’s hair and regarded them with suspicion. “You think Maddy’s in some kind of trouble. What kind?”

  Connor gave him the short version, and the astute businessman read between the lines and gave his sub leave to get involved. “Alice?”

  “She was a mess last night. Emotionally. She didn’t talk to me other than some platitudes. You know, thanking me for driving her home. Being sorry for the inconvenience. It made me realize how little I know about her. We see each other at the club, and she’s so nice, somebody you want to be with. Makes me laugh and want to talk to her. But it’s all one-sided. When we arrived at her house, she wouldn’t let me get out of the car until Master Ishmael pulled up and she was certain it was him. She scared me, actually.”

  Scrubbing his hands over his face, Connor regarded Alice, feeling weary and at a loss, something he rarely experienced. “It makes sense. She was looking out for you. Keeping you safe. She didn’t want you unprotected.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “We don’t know. But she’s gonna run.” A thread of pain ran through Rafe’s voice as he answered for both of them. “We cut off her place, the place she felt safe and accepted, no matter she couldn’t be totally honest. And we pushed her. Fuck.”

  “I’ll go to her. She’ll let me in. You know, a follow-up from last night. You can just turn up while I’m there, and she’ll feel obliged to let you in.” Alice looked anxious and Ishmael ran a soothing hand down her arm.

  “I don’t think so.” Connor would have normally jumped at the idea, but he didn’t know what they were dealing with. They wouldn’t compound the situation and possibly put Alice in harm’s way.

  “But—” Ishmael’s big hand touched Alice’s shoulder and she instantly subsided.

  “If Maddy won’t let her Doms in, we’ll try it your way, my sweet. But I’m not inclined to risk you.” Alice pressed closer to Ishmael in a tender moment that silenced everyone.

  Connor had to get gone. Being referred to as one of Maddy’s Doms—they’d botched that initial opportunity—and seeing what was developing between Ishmael and Alice was like having salt rubbed in a wound. He didn’t want to begrudge them a relationship, but felt Maddy slipping away. She might have already left. Who knew if she’d packed and loaded a different car in the dead of night to access today? Or had driven away even as they’d watched? She was clearly resourceful.

  Rafe was two steps ahead of him, skin again stretched tightly over his cheekbones, and a muscle ticking in his jaw. They cleared out after thanking Alice and powered back to Maddy’s. If they had to camp out on her doorstep they would, and they’d figure out some kind of excuse.

  ****

  Maddy checked her new look in the rearview one more time as she waited at a freakishly long light. Obeying some instinct that always served her well, she’d locked herself into a stall in the large bathroom at the mall and touched up the wig with artistic streaks of red in a chunky pattern. She thought it would suit her new persona—broken. The heavily framed glasses totally changed the shape of her face and gave her an older, studious look that went well with her tailored clothing, and she’d added some discreet silver hoop earrings. She could easily imagine herself as Bonnie M, mortgage broker extraordinaire, even more so than the woman she’d seen reflected back that morning. She suppressed a desire to laugh crazily. Pretty soon she was going to forget who the real Maddy was. While she was at it, she stripped off the spandex tights while in the stall, the high waist suffocating her.

  The streamlined look gone, she comforted herself with the thought of Bonnie the mortgage broker working from home, wearing comfy sweats and slippers. All she had to do was wait for the new identification and get to the airport. Nobody was going to be looking at her that closely.

  The latte she’d picked up during her shopping roiled uneasily in her belly. Probably she should have stopped to eat something less inclined to upset her stomach, but the desire to keep pushing ahead overruled the idea, and she needed the caffeine. Drumming her fingertips on the wheel, she stared at the light, willing it to change. She needed to get home, and hoped her new identification would arrive even earlier than promised. She should have organized that earlier, but had become a little complacent, adrift on the nights at Vantage, feeling as though she’d found a place to belong.

  The thought of leaving yet again brought up the usual sense of exhaustion—nothing was pleasingly anticipatory when one was on the run—but she was so freaking sad, too. “Despairing” definitely described it better, but she gritted her teeth against letting her emotions loose. It wasn’t the place, and she knew it, and there was no use dwelling on things. Masters Rafe and Connor were lost to her, not that she’d ever had them. But Lord, she’d wanted them, enough to find out their preferences and change her limits. Playing with fire, more fool her. It probably wouldn’t have worked out, and she was infatuated, not in l
ove. That’s all it could be. She wasn’t a silly schoolgirl, and women didn’t fall in love with two men from a distance, no matter how intense the connection had felt.

  Finally, traffic moved in blind obedience to the signals, and she eased off the brake, her little car joining the rest as they surged through the intersection. And she absolutely would not think about the two Doms she’d never see again. The windshield blurred, and she blinked furiously until it cleared, changing lanes to branch off toward her residential area.

  Approaching from the other end of the block, she scanned for anything unusual or out of place, but her neighborhood seemed the same as ever. No sign of a courier truck, anyhow. She pulled up in the driveway, close to the house and wasted no time exiting the car and hustling inside, using the car and neighboring home as cover. It felt so much safer to exit and enter at night, and if she’d lost almost every hint of color in her skin, that’s the way it was. Vampires were popular, anyhow. As she rearmed the system, she caught sight through the window of Mrs. English, the elderly woman two doors down, making her way…straight up Maddy’s sidewalk. Shit.

  She stripped the wig off her head and tossed it down the hallway with a flick of her wrist, reaching to the hall tree with her free hand for the robe she left there for occasions exactly like this. But of course she’d packed the damn thing. Pivoting on one heel, she ran to the bedroom and flipped open the suitcase, digging into the neatly packed clothing with frantic movements until she encountered the soft flannel. As she pulled the article of clothing free, Mrs. English rapped on the door. Maddy tugged the robe over her clothing, losing the shoes with a twist of each ankle.

  Running her fingers through her hair to tousle her long locks, she wrestled a tissue from the pocket of the robe and mopped at the makeup that helped with her disguise, hoping the smeared mascara and liner would now make her look ill. She’d leaned on that persona when dear old Mrs. English surmised she rarely left her house because she was too sickly. Of course that created some other issues, like earlier deliveries of chicken noodle soup and the like until the nice old lady accepted the contention that Maddy worked from home and needed her space.

  She punched in the code when she arrived back at the panel, a little breathless, and opened the door a crack. A worried-looking Mrs. E peered back.

  “Hi, Mrs. English.”

  “Hello, Maddy. I saw your friend drive up but didn’t see you with her and got worried. I mean, you didn’t answer your door to those technicians this morning.”

  “What? I mean, excuse me?” Her incredulous near-shriek had made the woman flinch.

  “You look poorly,” Mrs. E allowed. “Are you sick again? I’m sorry. I guess you were sleeping when they came by.”

  She clearly tried not to make it too obvious, but she peered past Maddy’s shoulder. Maddy realized the other woman was looking for her “friend.” What a tangled web… Lord, all this subterfuge was wearing on a person.

  “My friend—Georgia—just stepped into the bathroom or she’d have let you in. I appreciate you checking up on me, though. I didn’t hear anyone at the door…earlier.”

  “They were here,” Mrs. E insisted. “Came to my house to ask about you, well, ask about fixing your security system. Two big, good-looking men.”

  The cold lump in her gut spread out in spider tentacles, making her shiver. Mrs. E hadn’t misspoken, had she but known. She’d obviously been cleverly interrogated. Maddy clutched the robe closer to her throat, the better to cover her street clothing and warm herself. “Darn. I guess I forgot they were coming.”

  As improvisations went, it wasn’t the best, but appeared to satisfy her neighbor who had clearly come over out of concern, not to gossip or because she was curious or worried about the so-called technicians.

  “Well, if you’re okay…”

  “I am, thanks. And, uh, Georgia’s here. I appreciate you coming over.”

  It would be proper and right to invite the old woman in for tea or something, but she couldn’t for all the obvious reasons, so Maddy smiled sickly and leaned forward to ease Mrs. E out the door. She went, obligingly, and they exchanged better smiles.

  Maddy closed the door and set the security code with shaking fingers. Abbott had found her. She dragged off the robe and let it fall, dipping her knees to snag the wig on the way by as she ran to her bedroom. She’d actually managed to stuff most of her disheveled belongings back in the case and shove her feet back into the shoes before her brain caught up with her spinning emotions. If it had been Abbott, there would be men in or around her home, waiting, or at least one man. Ryker. She made a huge, involuntary shudder even thinking his name, and sweat broke out along her hairline and upper lip.

  Backtracking, she scampered to her laptop and powered up to check the security monitor feed from while she was out wasting time shopping. She staggered back from the table, her hands rising to meet at her mouth. Rafe’s handsome face stared out at her from the screen, calm and inscrutable, and she could make out Connor’s tall form in the lower corner of the frame. Her breath stuttered back to life deep in her chest and she panted, desperately trying to get herself under control. What on earth were they doing here? And making up a story for her neighbors? What had they learned?

  Her knees wobbled and she nearly fell onto a chair. They weren’t prepared to leave it alone, were trying to make contact with her outside of the safety of the club. Not that they knew how dangerous it was. But she didn’t allow anyone close, into her space, and now she felt the chasers closing in… Maddy reached out and scanned for anything that was picked up after Rafe and Connor departed. Nothing. She backed the feed up and watched two delectably toned asses fade from the picture, lovingly encased in tight jeans. She plain old hurt at the sight, and longed to turn the clock back to where they hadn’t interfered by running a check on her, to the place where she’d dared think she could chance another scene with full on sex, different limits.

  Ah, what was she thinking? That dream wasn’t meant to be, and this feeling she had for those Doms couldn’t be examined or allowed expression anymore. If she wanted to survive, it would be on her own, and most carefully. No way would she bring even a hint of risk to her Masters. The Masters. Although they had been hers for a couple of memorable hours, and might have been again.

  She shut down and packed up the laptop, then scurried around to carefully gather up the tiny cameras, cramming them into her open suitcase. Nothing she could do to dismantle the rest of the system, so her landlord could figure that out too. She felt badly about fooling Mrs. E, and now that she was leaving, the old lady would be confused and worried when it became apparent the house was empty. That was another reason she couldn’t afford to connect with anyone.

  She took a few minutes to reapply makeup and affix the wig, then did a final walk-through, setting her cases by the door. Scribbling a note for her landlord, she enclosed next month’s rent—in cash—and left it on the table. He’d likely do a few touch-ups and have the place rented out quickly, further muddying her trail. Furnished homes were at a premium, especially executive rentals, and he’d care less about her precipitous move.

  Her documents should soon arrive, and she perched on a chair to wait, fingers clenching, trying really hard not to speculate on what might have happened had Rafe and Connor found her at home. That part of her, the one labeled optimist, tentatively made a suggestion, but she ignored it. There was no way out for her in the long run, in all likelihood, but certainly not unless she made her way alone. It took all her focus to take care of herself in the world, probably why she liked being dominated so much. Craving someone to take her choices away, yet keep her safe…there was that dream again. Care about her…

  A brisk rap on the door jerked her from the wishful thinking and she crept forward to take a peek. A woman in a courier uniform stood on the step, but Maddy looked for the van, seeing it parked up against the curb. Okay. Although Abbott had all kinds of resources and she wouldn’t put it past him to use a UPS driver as a disgui
se. Paranoia will destroyah. Maddy opened the door and made eye contact with the driver, stepping out to join her and forcing the other woman to take the second step. It gave Maddy the feeling of having an advantage, although it proved not to be necessary. She signed for the package without fanfare, and the woman stepped down and loped back to the van.

  Maddy made a half turn to go back in, keeping an eye out for Mrs. English, when the big, black truck rumbled into the drive, effectively blocking her little car. The occupants were veiled behind the tinted glass and terror clutched her heart. Fight or flight? Definitely flight, and her rigid legs unlocked at the joint to carry her inside the relative safety of the house. But even as she moved she knew time had run out.

  “Maddy!” Connor’s deep voice carried clearly across the yard, freezing her mid step. Well, in her heart she’d known it wasn’t Abbott and company, but the fear had the same effect, if for very different reasons.

  With a resigned sigh, hardly wishing to have two large men standing in front of her house, demanding entrance and drawing attention, she waited for Connor and Rafe to mount the stairs before moving inside, the pair hard on her heels. The door shut with a distinct slam. She led the way to the small living room in silence and chose a chair before she fell down. The two Doms stayed on their feet, and she awaited the barrage of questions she was certain was coming.

  “An interesting look, sweetheart. You’d fool most people, at least from a distance.” Rafe finally spoke and she couldn’t control a tiny start.

  She had nothing to say to that, but nervously tweaked the wig. Tucking the courier’s envelope into her purse, she set it on the coffee table and tried to still her hands.

  “You’re leaving.” Not a question by the inflection, but she heard the query and wasn’t inclined give away too much.

  “Right away.”

  With a lift of his hand, Connor weighed in. “You’re clearly in trouble.”