Chapter 8 #3
“You’re welcome.” She picked up her other plate from the end table, knowing—knowing—she shouldn’t give him any encouragement.
Nonetheless, her heart wouldn’t let her set the dessert back down.
“Despite your extremely pushy behavior, I think you’ve earned a reward.
You did a nice thing today for Uzuri.” She uncovered the big chocolate-frosting covered brownie.
His gaze held the delight of a man getting a tasty treat as well as the pleasure that she’d thought of him when others were grabbing their food. “Thank you, Mistress.” Before he took a bite, he paused. “Did you get some?”
“I know better. I’ve had Kari’s brownies before. If I ate one, I’d have to run an extra mile tomorrow morning.”
His eyes glinted golden. “I could be of service in working off calories.”
Well, she knew that for a fact. And the desire to burn a few calories with him was growing overwhelming. “Well, in that case, maybe I should indulge.” She leaned forward, letting her breast brush against his face as she grasped his wrist and pulled his brownie to her lips. She took a small bite.
“Oh, now, Ma’am, you know I’m good for more calories than that,” he murmured.
She choked.
Her cell rang. Saved by the bell. She checked the display and answered. “This is Anne. What’s up?”
“We have a pickup for you, if you have time,” Loretta said. “Do you remember Jane? However, she sounds nearly hysterical. You probably should take some backup.”
After getting the location, Anne frowned down at her phone. Dammit, Jane. Why’d you go back to that asshole?
A big hand closed over hers. “Problem?” Ben studied her, eyes concerned.
“I’m afraid so. I need to give someone a ride.” But both her brothers were working today, and she didn’t have any trained female friends she’d feel comfortable risking in a possibly dangerous situation.
“Just a ride wouldn’t make you so worried. Can I help?”
“I…” Could he? He was ex-military. And Z did extensive background checks on anyone setting foot in his Shadowlands, so he’d be safe. Even better, as a guard in a BDSM club, he’d have seen and dealt with emotional meltdowns. “If you don’t mind leaving now, I’d love some help.”
“If Bronx can come too, I’m in.”
Anne was delivering a woman to a battered women’s shelter? The woman had more facets than a diamond. Ben stared at her as she drove her Ford Escape to the designated pickup area. “Why aren’t the cops providing transportation for the woman?”
“They do sometimes. But all too often, a woman won’t call the police, so the shelter calls in volunteers.”
“If a man has hit his wife, what keeps him from attacking a driver?”
She smiled. “It’s not as dangerous as it sounds. We don’t meet women at their work or houses, and we only do pickups from public areas.”
Still didn’t sound particularly safe. Ben sat back. At least he was here. “Do you know who we’re fetching?”
“Actually, I do. Jane and her daughter, Paige, stayed at the shelter for a while, but when her husband agreed to counseling, she went back to him.” She scowled.
“You don’t approve of a guy getting a second chance?”
“Well, sometimes an abuser is shocked at his actions and realizes he’s got a problem. He’s the type that can learn.” Her lips tightened. “I met Jane’s husband. He’s a manipulative bastard and sure not interested in amending his behavior. He used every trick in the book to get her to return to him.”
Considering Anne’s experience as a Domme, she had probably read him correctly. He sounded like a real bastard. “So she loved him and went back.”
“Uh-uh. I think the love is long gone. I’d say she was afraid of being on her own and of having to turn her life upside-down. Of how much she’d have to change.” Anne’s fingers clenched and loosened on the steering wheel.
She’d spat that word out—change—as if it had a foul taste. Interesting.
“This is the place.” Anne drove through a mall parking lot, pulled over to the curb in front of a department store, and turned the parking lights on. She jumped out.
Ben hand-signaled Bronx to stay put and joined her on the sidewalk. “Where do you want me?”
“Can you wait by the car?” Her lips curved. “You can be a scary lad at times.”
Ben winced. Although he’d come to enjoy being a big guy, he didn’t like that his face could terrify children.
She noticed and ran her hand up his arm. “It so happens that I appreciate scary lads, you know,” she said in her husky voice.
When she looked at him as if he were a delectable treat, his ego expanded to fill all of Pinellas County. He cleared his throat. “I’ll wait here.” Unless there was a problem…then all bets were off.
She strode briskly into the store, and he’d known her long enough to read the tension in her body and the way she was alert to the people nearby. She’d tried to act as if the pickups weren’t dangerous, but she was obviously ready for action.
A minute later, she walked out, her arm around a woman’s waist, supporting her.
Jesus.
The limping woman had a black eye and a golf-ball-sized swelling on her cheek. A fat lip. Her stiff torso indicated her ribs were bruised or busted.
Anger roused and lifted its ugly head.
He took a step forward, then saw a young girl trailing after Anne. She couldn’t be more than twelve. Tears streaked her dirty cheeks.
Ben throttled his rage back. She’d seen enough violence. Trying to look harmless, he opened the back seat door and stepped away.
As the women approached the SUV, a man shouted. “Found you, you bitch. Stop right there.”
Like a terrified bird, Jane froze.
“Oh, honestly.” With a huff of irritation, Anne glanced over her shoulder. “Jane, get in the car.”
The woman didn’t move.
Her husband headed toward them with the narrow-minded focus of a fanatical insurgent.
So much for a safe pickup. The asshole had white dust on his ragged jeans and sweat-marked T-shirt. He probably worked in construction. About six feet and well over two hundred pounds, the man was muscular with a good-sized beer gut.
His expression was…off, and Ben figured he was high on either drugs or alcohol or both.
“Incoming, Anne,” Ben warned as she helped Jane to the side of the car. “May I take him out?”
“I’d rather do it myself.”
Fuck. Ben suppressed the need to intervene. Down, Haugen. Anne wouldn’t give up her toy easily, and he had to trust she knew what she was doing. “Figures.”
Anne gave him a grim half-smile, released Jane, squeezed the kid’s shoulder, and walked toward the store.
Ben stepped in front of Jane and the child to shield them from the sight of the abuser. “Get in the car, please, while Anne deals with” the fucking shithead “any problems.”
After a blink, Jane focused on him and if anything, looked even more frightened.
“I—” She actually started to retreat.
To Ben’s relief, her daughter piped up. “Get in, Mom. We need to leave.”
Good kid. Terrified, wide-eyed, dead white—and she still kept her head.
From behind Ben came the sound of the asshole’s raised voice, then the smack of flesh on flesh.
Anne can handle him. She can handle him. Ben unclenched his jaw and snapped his fingers for Bronx to jump from the backseat to the front.
“Stay right here, kiddo,” he said gently, making sure Paige was right beside the car.
He looked at the mother. “My name’s Ben, Ma’am. I’m helping Anne drive.” He assisted Jane into the backseat and carefully strapped her in.
One down. “Paige, get on in.”
The girl shook her head. “We might have to help Anne.” With fists clenched, she planted her feet, going nowhere.
Well, hell. Stymied, Ben set a light hand on her shoulder so he could keep track of her, then turned to watch the fight.
If Anne needed help, he intended to be right there. And if the bastard attempted to lay a hand on the kid, he’d draw back a bloody stump.
Unfortunately, Ben’s assistance wasn’t going to be required, which was a fucking shame.
The asshole was trying to hit Anne and was missing every time. The woman had some seriously fine footwork. She delivered a perfectly executed snap kick to a knee.
The bastard went down hard.
Concrete meets face—face loses. Ben laughed under his breath. And tried to make his woody go away.
Still in stance, Anne waited, obviously hoping the dumbass would stand up so she could knock him down again.
Bad Domme. “Ma’am, that was good to watch, but your chariot waits.”
And the little bit had seen enough.
Anne frowned at Ben, fury still riding her shoulders, but when he glanced meaningfully down at the munchkin, she caught on immediately. “Right. Let’s get moving then.”
To Ben’s surprise, Paige still didn’t move. Her eyes held hatred as she stared at her father.
Fuck, that was just sad.
Ben cleared his throat. “Paige. Hop in now.”
Before he could help, she ran around the car, opened the rear door, and stopped.
“Paige?”
“A dog.”
Ben realized Bronx had stuck his head between the front seats, hoping someone would throw him some attention.
“You have a dog.” The wonder in her voice made the retriever whine.
Ben smiled. Someone could use comforting, and he had just the dog to do it. “Want to ride in the front with Bronx?”
If the gates of heaven had opened, the child couldn’t look more ecstatic. “Really?”
In answer, Ben pulled open the front passenger door, motioned Bronx to the floor, and stepped out of the way.
After Paige got in, Ben had to hold her back long enough to fasten the seat belt. Then she leaned forward, her arms went around the dog’s neck, and she buried her face in his fur.
“Well,” Anne said. “I think Bronx could be more popular than the firemen’s beloved teddy bears.”
Jane whispered, “Will the dog attack her? She’s so upset…”
Ben squatted down beside the mother. “Bronx has a big heart, and he loves children. They’re fine.”
To his surprise, Anne handed him the car keys and jumped into the back. “Jane, I need to know how badly you’re hurt.”
Ah. Ben slid into the driver’s seat, checked the girl, and snorted. She was half-crying and half-laughing as Bronx gave little whines and tried to lick her tears away.
With Anne’s directing from the back, Ben drove to the shelter and parked in the rear.
As he assisted Jane from the car, Anne slid out on the other side.
With an arm around Jane, she said, “Be right back.” She helped Jane to the building and rang the bell. Some women opened the door.
As Paige gave Bronx a last hug, Ben leaned a hip against the SUV.
“Mister Ben?”
Ben looked down into bright blue eyes. “You don’t need the Mister part—Ben is fine. You got a question for me?”
“You’re a man. Aren’t you supposed to protect Miss Anne?”
Having expected a question about Bronx, he took a moment to recover. “Yes. I’ll always protect her. But she didn’t need my help with the as—uh, with…today.” He smiled slightly. “Did just fine on her own, didn’t she?”
The child’s eyes were swollen from crying, but very, very alert. “So even though she knocked my father down, you still like her?”
Ben simply laughed. “Damn straight.”
“Paige.” Anne stood a pace away. She gave Ben a glance filled with amusement. “Honey, you need to go on in now.”
The child kissed Bronx’s nose and hugged Anne. “You’ll come and see me? Please?”
Ben could only stare as the most sadistic Mistress in the Shadowlands turned into jelly.
Yeah, he’d found his woman.