Find Her: Avenging Angels MC Book 1

by Nia Farrell

  God, keep them safe. All of them. Let us go home soon.

  After brushing and flossing her teeth, she emptied her bladder, and washed and dried her hands. The house wasn’t that hot, but she’d just spent five days in a basement. She couldn’t get comfortable until she was stripped down to the buff and lying with a sheet and a lightweight summer blanket pulled up to her shoulders.

  Rose hadn’t brought an alarm clock, and Michael had all of her electronics. Tonight she had surrendered most of her control to him. Unable to set an alarm, she would have to depend upon him for that, too. Some women would be outraged, but growing up as she had, with her parents’ marriage and its D/s dynamics as her guide, the idea of Michael as her Dominant held much more appeal than the vanilla dates that she’d done.

  She remembered watching him, the slight curve of his lips when he reached the end of the first section.

  I’d like to try being your submissive

  I don’t know if I can please you, but I do know that I want you to be my first. I swear to do my best for you, because I really want to earn your cock.

  Somehow, someday, it would be hers.

  Chapter Nine

  “Rose?” Michael called through the closed door and rapped with his knuckles. “Rose?”

  No answer.

  “Rose,” he said a bit more sharply. He’d already been up an hour, setting his alarm for 6 AM to work on their schedule.

  Still nothing. He turned the knob and opened the door to the sight of Rose McLanahan sleeping on her stomach. Except for her feet, hidden in a tangle of sheets, her naked body was his for the viewing.

  And what a body it was. Even with the few pounds that she’d lost before she was rescued, she was stunning. Toned legs. A perfect ass. The smooth curve of her spine. Her gold-struck auburn hair was swept to one side, exposing her neck and shoulders. That fair skin of hers looked like it had never been kissed by the sun. Coming closer, he saw that the faint freckles on her face dotted her back as well.

  “Time to get up, Rose. We’ve got a full day today.”

  He touched her shoulder. Jackknifing wide awake, she blushed furiously and lay back down when she realized that she had nothing on.

  “I want you in the basement and ready to exercise in five minutes,” he said firmly. “Be late, and you earn your first punishment.”

  “Sorry,” she told him when she joined him seven minutes later, dressed in biker shorts and a tank top, with her hair pulled back into a ponytail that made his fingers itch to fist it. “I couldn’t find my sneakers.”

  Michael wasn’t about to cut her any slack. He’d be firm, but fair. “You knew last night that we’d be exercising first thing. You had time then to lay out what you would need. Punishment will wait until after supper dishes are done. I guarantee, you won’t forget to lay things out tonight.”

  Rose lowered her gaze meekly. “Yes, Sir.”

  When he could, he watched her routine, a combination of cardio, toning, and stretching exercises that included some Pilates and yoga. Her flexibility was impressive, to say the least, and would allow them to get really creative in bed.

  The thought of her ankles wrapped around his neck while he sank his length inside her was enough to make him hard.

  That wasn’t his biggest problem today. No, that would be explaining to Rose why he’d kept this morning’s news from her. The war was on. Late last night, four Demons had been taken down in a hit by unknown assailants. The girl that the cops had recovered in the van wasn’t in a position to see anything, bound, blindfolded, and gagged like she was.

  Michael was praying it was the same scum who’d taken Rose, but he’d have to wait and see. The phone call on his burner cell from Mad Dog was carefully worded. The Angels heard there was a hit. They had no clue who had done it, or the identities of the four men who were killed. As soon as they found out more, he would pass the information along.

  It had to be Visconti. The assailants were either Visconti’s men or outside help that he’d brought in for the job. It was only a matter of time. The Demons were going down.

  Lost in thought, Michael looked over to find Rose watching him, too, appreciation shining from the depths of her emerald eyes. After warming up, he had stripped off his shirt, revealing washboard abs and a sculpted, lightly furred chest.

  He winked and carried on.

  She finished her routine ahead of him and walked the length of the basement until he was done. They went upstairs together. Rose headed for her room. Michael thought about following her, but a shared shower would wait until tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. There were other things that needed done first. Bathing together, getting comfortable enough to let him wash her, would come in time.

  Freshly showered, Michael made his way to the kitchen. Rose joined him when he was deciding what to fix for breakfast. He planned to use the perishables first.

  Opening the refrigerator door, he saw the jar of sourdough starter. “Do you need eggs for making bread?”

  “No,” Rose answered, standing nearby, waiting for instructions. “Flour, water, salt, and starter—which I need to feed this morning to keep it going. After breakfast is fine, but I need to do it every day.”

  One more thing to add to her schedule.

  Michael had her tend to the starter while he cooked breakfast, a scrambled version of a cheese omelette with sourdough toast and Rose’s favorite strawberry jelly. They ate in companionable silence and did dishes together. Rose washed. He dried. When everything was squared away, he had Rose follow him into the living room and booted up his computer.

  Typing in his password, he found his Documents folder and opened the schedule that he’d made.

  “Today, you’re cleaning house. I’ll be working remotely on projects that I’m contracted for, but I’ll be in here if you need me for anything. Start with the floors, upstairs, then down. You’ll find everything you need in the closet in the laundry room, beside the kitchen. Vacuum the carpets and damp mop the tile upstairs, kitchen first, then the barracks bedroom, the laundry room, and the bathrooms last. Add a germicide to the water, if there’s one available. The stained concrete downstairs gets dry dust mopped for now. Save the damp mopping for when it needs it. Oh, and Rose? No clothes. When you clean house, I want you naked.”

  He could tell that the idea both appalled and excited her. She needed to be comfortable around him. Working in the buff would help her with that—not to mention the images it would give him for his spank bank.

  Rose found the vacuum and pulled it after her to the wing of the house with all the bedrooms. A few minutes later, he heard vacuuming from her room, then his, then the other two bedrooms. Starting at the far end of the hall, she made her way towards him. By the time she reached the living room, she had worked up a sweat. A fine sheen glistened on her pale Irish skin.

  He took a break and sat back to admire her form. Firm, high, better-than-B-cup breasts. Trim waist. A soft swell of hips and a clean-shaven crotch.

  Perfect.

  Fucking perfect.

  “Rose?” He called loudly enough to be heard above the vacuum. Rose hit the switch to shut it off until he was done speaking. “When you get finished vacuuming, I want you to take a break. Stretch out your back and drink some water, before you start mopping upstairs. Understood?”

  He pretended to go back to work, and she pretended to ignore him. Neither one of them was very successful. More times than not, they’d look up at the same time and catch each other. She’d blush, and he would grin.

  Rose finished the carpets and returned the vacuum to the closet. Michael decided to take a break, too, and padded into the kitchen on stockinged feet to wait for her.

  She came in a few minutes later, pulling the loaded mop bucket with one hand and carrying the mopstick in the other. Parking them both in a corner, she washed her hands at the kitchen sink, filled a glass with filtered water, lined a barstool seat with a paper towel, and sat down to rest.

  She drank a few sips, then
swiveled away from the island, and leaned forward, dropping her arms and rounding her back to stretch it out. When that wasn’t enough to ease the tension, she balled her fists, reached behind her, and began kneading both sides of her lumbar spine.

  Feeling her pain, Michael stepped behind her and caught her wrists, gently pulling her hands from her back. “Here. Let me.”

  She stiffened when he touched her, but gradually relaxed, eventually yielding like putty in his hands. Michael kneaded her muscles, appreciating the way she felt beneath his fingers. Rose moaned softly, letting him know just how much she was enjoying his hands on her body.

  He forced himself to step away. “Do you want some ibuprofen?” he asked. “It would probably help.”

  She thought for a moment before deciding. “Yes, Sir. Please, Sir.”

  He went to his bedroom and came back with two tablets. Checking the time, he had her eat a piece of cheese so she didn’t take them on an empty stomach.

  “I’ll get out of your hair and let you finish. As soon as the floor’s dried, I want to start lunch. Nothing fancy. I saw quite a bit of canned chili. If I don’t find anything else, I was thinking chili and grilled cheese sandwiches.”

  “Sounds good,” she said. “I’ll be out of here shortly. And I found a germicidal cleaner to put in the mop water. Everything should smell lemony fresh when I’m done.”

  He nearly smiled. “Great,” he said. “Leaving now. I’ll see you later.”

  Chapter Ten

  Michael left Rose to her chores and went back to the project that he was working on. Keeping an eye on his watch, he eventually returned to the kitchen, found the floor dry enough, and went to check out their stock of canned goods.

  The cheese was a perishable. The bread they were using was, too. Nothing on the shelves went any better with it than the chili. Then again, he could do oven fries and top them with chili and cheese. They had plenty of potatoes.

  He’d see what sounded best to Rose.

  Michael found her in the laundry room, struggling to open the tap at the base of the mop bucket. She had it parked over the floor drain, positioned to empty into it.

  “Need some help?”

  She gave it one more go, and failed again. “Yes, Sir. Please, Sir.”

  It was stiff, but he managed to twist the faucet-style handle and open the spout. “I came back to ask if you’d rather have chili and grilled cheese, or oven fries topped with chili and cheese. Which sounds better to you?”

  Rose beamed a hundred-watt smile at him. “Ooh, oven fries, please!”

  “Your mom sent a bag of grapes. I was wondering about freezing some of them to enjoy later. We don’t want them going bad.”

  “Good idea,” she agreed. “May I put on clothes and help in the kitchen?”

  He’d rather keep her naked, but he needed to keep her healthy. Doing housework in the nude was one thing. Cool down too quickly, and she could get chilled.

  While she got dressed, he preheated the oven and turned on the overhead exhaust to keep the kitchen cooler. He found a cutting board in a bottom cabinet and a seven-inch chef’s knife for prep work in a drawer. Rummaging through the bag of potatoes, he took two good sized ones, washed them, cut out the eyes, and sliced them into fries. He put them in a bowl of water as he cut them to wash out some of the starch.

  Rose returned while he was working and found a bake sheet that they could use. She’d put on a pair of Daisy Dukes and a tank top that left little to the imagination beyond the exact shade of her pink nipples. She kept out of his way, looking all too cute with her hair pulled back in that tempting ponytail.

  Michael drained the fries and patted them dry. Keeping it simple to go with the chili, he tossed them in olive oil and salt, then spread them out on the bake sheet. Putting the fries on the oven’s middle rack, he set the timer for thirty minutes.

  “I thought I’d use one can of chili and split it between us. With the cheese and potatoes, that should be plenty. Can you find a grater and work up some of that block of cheddar to go on top? Normally I’d slow-heat the chili in a saucepan, but I’m going to microwave it instead. I don’t want to make the air conditioning work any harder than it is.”

  Rose grated away, until she had what looked like a pint of shredded cheddar.

  Michael cocked a brow. “Think you got enough there, Rose?”

  She grinned sheepishly and shrugged her shoulder. “Maybe,” she said slowly, drawing out the word. “What can I say? I like cheese. It won’t go to waste. If there’s any left over, we can use it with eggs for breakfast, or top refried beans, or garnish soup, or put some on slices of sourdough bread and toast them under the broiler. Maybe a tuna noodle casserole with cheese added.”

  It sure sounded like Rose could cook. Michael was glad to hear it. He didn’t mind helping in the kitchen, but time spent in here was time away from the work that paid his bills.

  The chili cheese fries were a big success. Once dishes were done and put away, Rose returned to her room to get out of her clothes so that she could dry mop the basement floor. The ibuprofen seemed to be working. As much as he wanted the dusting done today, he’d see how she was holding up after she got through downstairs.

  Rose came back, delightfully naked, and headed for the laundry room and janitor’s closet.

  “Rose!” She stopped when he caught her attention. “There’s another cleaning closet downstairs, by the utility closet. Check there first. If there’s no dustmop, you can take one downstairs, but be sure to bring it back up and leave it where you found it.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  There must have been another one in the basement, because he didn’t see Rose until after she was done. “How’s the back?” he asked.

  “I’m okay,” she said, sounding sincere. “The ibuprofen helped. A long soak in hot water should take care of the rest of it. May I take a bath when I’m done with my chores?”

  “Sounds like you need it. I’d like the living room and our bedrooms dusted today. If you’re up to doing the rest of the house, please do it. If your body is complaining too loudly, you can finish tomorrow. Fair enough?”

  She smiled softly. “Yes, Sir. I’ll get right on it.”

  Rose ended up dusting the entire upstairs and saved the basement for tomorrow, along with cleaning the bathrooms. When she was done for the day, Michael decided to reward her with a little personal service.

  “I’m going to run you a bath. I want to use the tub in your room. Does it need cleaned first?”

  She shook her head. “It looks clean enough. You can see what you think, but just rinse and drain it first, should be good.”

  Ten minutes later, Rose was neck-deep in the hottest water she could stand, soaking her aching muscles. Still a bit shy around him, her cheeks grew even more flushed when he insisted on washing her.

  Refolding a towel into a pad for his knees, he knelt by the side of the freestanding tub, put some shower gel on a bath sponge, and began cleaning the dried sweat from her body. Her neck, her face, her shoulders and arms. He used more gel, adding to the scent of fresh peaches that wafted from her skin.

  She bit her lip when he started on her chest, her gaze locked on his hand, watching every move. He kept his touch more ministering than teasing, but her breasts were extremely sensitive. They responded beautifully, with her areolas puckering and her nipples drawing into tight, hard tips.

  Rose held her breath when he went lower, sliding the sponge across her ribs, her stomach, her lower abdomen. He abandoned the sponge, then. Putting some gel on his palm, he had her lift her leg and washed her foot, running his fingers between her toes, massaging the sole, working the ball of her foot and the heel, listening to her soft sighs of pleasure.

  He had thought that she might be sore, working barefoot on tile and concrete today. Next time, he would allow her to wear shoes for support and protection. Hopefully it would help with her low back, too.

  When he had washed both legs, he had Rose shave her underarms, her l
egs, and her pussy. “I want that crotch smooth as a baby’s behind,” he said. “Do a good job. I’m going to check when you’re done.”

  Her blush went three shades deeper.

  Trying to decide the best way to shave with him watching, she bent her knees and scooted sideways in the tub. Facing the faucet and handheld sprayer, she afforded him a view of little more than the back of her head and her feet, planted a yard apart on the opposite side.

  No matter. He was going to take a long, hard look when she was done. Her first inspection, but far from her last.

  Rose finished shaving and returned her razor to its place.

  “Take out your ponytail,” Michael told her. “Wet your hair. After all that sweating you’ve done today, you’ll feel better if it’s washed.”

  She followed his instructions, but Michael stopped her when she reached for the shampoo. “No,” he said. “I’ll do it. You just sit here and relax. It’s been a big day.” Bigger than she realized. He still hadn’t told her about the hit on the Demons. He was saving that for tonight, after supper.

  After her punishment.

  He shampooed the length of her auburn hair, working up the lather, massaging her scalp, feeling how she yielded to his touch. “Do you usually wash twice?” he asked, knowing some women did.

  “I did yesterday. It shouldn’t need it today.”

  “Get the water from the sprayer to the temperature you want, then hand it to me.”

  Michael rinsed the shampoo from her hair and shut the valve to the sprayer. Squeezing out the excess water, he worked in a dollop of cream rinse and massaged her scalp while it worked for the suggested three minutes’ time.

  Turning the sprayhead back on, he rinsed her hair, shut the valve, and handed it back to Rose to put in its cradle. She opened the bathtub drain and stood up, squeezing her hair, water running in rivulets down the length of her body.

  Michael spread the towel he’d been kneeling on to use as a bath mat and helped Rose step from the tub. He wrapped her in a bath sheet and dried her off with a casual touch. When he was done, he led her to her bed and had her lie on her back for inspection.