Master Z didn’t keep the door locked, although that might change one of these days. Unfortunately, he might decide to solve the problem by simply handing over wayward trainees to a couple of the sadists.
Sally grimaced. She wasn’t a trainee any longer, so Master Z wouldn’t punish her without the Feds’ permission. G and V might well frown on her…assisting…her friends.
But jeez, she and Rainie and Uzuri had been planning this forever.
A few minutes ago, their target, Mistress Anne, had entered the Masters’ locker room. Sally tilted her head, trying to follow in her mind what would be happening.
Since the slender brunette had looked rather scruffy, she was probably showering over on the female side of the room. Master Z kept robes and towels in there, so she’d have donned a robe. She’d open her locker and…
No noise.
Huh. Well, maybe the rubber spider hadn’t scared her, although it had probably pissed her off. But there were a few other treats tucked away, and one that—
“Shit!” The voice was Anne’s, and even with that, she hadn’t screamed. “Goddamn son-of-a-bitching brats!”
Gotcha.
Giggles rose in Sally’s belly like champagne bubbles, impossible to suppress. At the munchie area, Uzuri had her hands over her mouth. Rainie—being smart—had turned her back to the door, but her shoulders were visibly shaking.
Oh God, we’re all going to die.
Feeling a twinge of worry, Sally scooted her chair around and curled into a smaller, less visible ball, before peeking around the edge.
Mistress Anne stalked into the club room. A couple of scenes had already started. Anne glanced at them, and her mouth tightened. She was too experienced to start shouting and disturb the session.
Instead, she went to the bar and spoke to Master Cullen.
Both Master Cullen and Mistress Anne turned to stare at Rainie.
The big, beautiful woman visibly shrank.
Hell, that was way too fast. Sally scowled. Next time, they’d better stick to the newer Doms who couldn’t read body language so easily—and who might be embarrassed to mention a prank to other Doms.
Mistress Anne didn’t embarrass. Shit.
Look innocent, Uzuri. Facing the room, Mistress Anne slowly looked around the room. Her gaze came to rest on Uzuri.
The short trainee had turned her back and was unloading a tray. The red beads decorating her kinky black hair swung from side to side on her back as she swayed to the music. Yeah, obviously, she didn’t have a care in the world.
Way to go, Uzuri. Who would have thought Rainie would have no acting abilities?
Mistress Anne strolled across the room toward the munchie table, looking just like Glock stalking a cricket in the grass. The Mistress set her hand on Uzuri’s shoulder.
The trainee jumped. Spoke. Smiled. Everything looked good, as far as Sally could see.
Then Mistress Anne took Uzuri’s chin in her palm, closed her fingers tight enough to make the trainee flinch, and said something.
Uzuri caved. Totally caved, going as spineless as an amoeba.
Sheesh, where’d the trainees’ courage go? This was only Mistress Anne…the most sadistic of the Doms.
As Uzuri joined Rainie at the bar, Sally slunk lower in the chair. The girls wouldn’t give her up. Not ever. But—with a sinking sensation, she saw Master Cullen point right at her.
Didn’t it just figure he’d noticed her arrive? And he knew she’d been an accomplice to every prank committed in, like, forever.
Oookay. Look at the bright side—at least I don’t have testicles to torture.
Like Darth Vader, Mistress Anne appeared and stood over her, looking down. A small cane swung from her braided leather belt.
Great. I hate canes. Sally endeavored a smile. “Good evening, Mistress.”
Hands clasped behind her back, Mistress Anne stared at the ceiling. Silently.
More silence.
More silence.
Sally felt sweat bloom on her upper lip, on her low back.
Mistress Anne looked down. “I don’t like bugs.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Sally said ever so politely. “We thought it was our duty as trainees to help you conquer that problem.” Don’t laugh; don’t laugh; don’t laugh.
“Did you,” Anne said in a flat voice.
Sally’s urge to giggle died as worry flooded in.
Master Cullen wouldn’t let her be whipped to death…right?
Master Z would be upset to have dead trainees. All that paperwork.
Housekeeping might quit.
Anne’s voice was level. Quiet. “I have had a bad day. My permanent submissive, Joey, moved out last week. My secretary is on vacation, and papers are piling up. I caught a fist to the face from a cheating husband who didn’t appreciate the pictures I gave to his wife of him and his twenty-year-old fling.” Anne gingerly touched a darkening bruise along her jaw.
And continued slightly louder. “But when I got here, I thought life was looking up. I had a nice shower and was starting to relax, and then I find that my locker. And clothing. And shoes. And toy bag”—her voice rose—“are filled with rubber bugs!”
Sally stared. Mistress Anne had lost Joey? But they’d been so good together, and although Anne usually had more than one submissive under command, Joey had been with her ever so long. “I…I’m sorry, Mistress.”
More silence.
Why did the demon Dominants like to use stillness as a weapon? Sally’s teeth ground together as she started to shake.
“You aren’t a trainee, Sally,” Mistress Anne said finally. “You aren’t mine to punish…which means you shouldn’t pick me as a target.”
Ouch. Explaining that they’d planned the joke pre-Feds ownership of Sally probably wouldn’t help, would it? “Yes, Ma’am.”
“So my only recourse is to inform your Masters of your misbehavior. And how I feel about it.” Mistress Anne fixed cold eyes on Sally. “I’m sure they’ll think of something to do with you.”
Oh shit. Oh man, this was bad. “Yes, Ma’am.” As the Mistress walked away, Sally had to force herself not to run after her. Please, don’t tell Galen and Vance. Pleaaase!
When Mistress Anne reached the bar where Rainie and Uzuri waited, Master Cullen made a gesture, handing the two over to her. But she shook her head and said something.
Master Cullen glanced at his watch and nodded.
Right. She wouldn’t punish a submissive if she was angry. Sally winced. Somehow she doubted a cold Mistress Anne would be any gentler than a pissed-off one.
Sally took out her phone. Maybe—if she could think of what to say—she could sneak in an explanation to her Doms before Anne talked to them.
“Hey, Sally. I’ve been looking for you.” Kari walked over. “Are your guys here yet?”
“No. I’m going to call and see what’s keeping them.” Should I sound sweet or cute or…
“Cool. Dan’s running late too.” Kari shifted. “Too much diet soda—I’m going to visit the restroom. After you call, we can run upstairs and see Jessica.”
“Sounds good.” Sally stared at her cell phone, not quite ready to dial. Maybe penitent? Remorseful? Or flirty…flirty might work well, especially after last night.
The door to Vance’s office opened, letting in the noise from the main room. Early Friday evening, the FBI downtown field office was chaotic with the last rush of activity before the weekend.
He knew the feeling. If he could just get this report written, he and Galen could get to the Shadowlands and meet Sally.
As Vance looked up from his writing, Galen entered, looking sucker punched.
“What’s wrong?” Vance pushed aside the court case.
“The arsonist.” Galen’s voice was harsh. Tight. He set a memo onto the desk. “Two houses burned down last night. Police detectives—and their families.”
“Why would he kill cops now?” Vance glanced at the names of the deceased, and a cold chill ran through him. Those were the two cops who—along with Galen—had killed Somerfeld. Fuck. “Any other law-enforcement officers killed?”
“Just them.”
Vance’s jaw went tight as he remembered the scream of rage they’d heard at Somerfeld’s death.
“Leads?”
“Yeah, actually.” Galen looked even grimmer. “Research finally dug down to the untold story of the Somerfelds—although someone had done a pretty good job of burying the information.”
“Yeah?”
“Drew had a twin named Ellis who burned down the family home with Daddy alive inside. Got caught in the fire himself but survived. Judged criminally insane. Committed. Mom suicided.”
“Fuck, there’s a mess.”
“Ayuh. Drew went on to become a lawyer, assistant district attorney, and head of the Harvest Association.”
“The brother is loose?” A proven arsonist and crazy.
“Discharged from the mental institute a few years ago. Cutbacks, you know, especially since Drew pulled strings,” Galen said in a dry voice. “Once out, Ellis went off the grid. New York is searching Drew’s records to find him.”
“Goddamn it.” The sick feeling in the pit of Vance’s stomach increased. An insane bastard out for revenge. If Drew had kept him in check, that control was gone.