Make Me, Sir

“Tell me why you’re so disobedient.”

It took a minute to get through. Diso…what? Disobedient.

“Why, Gabi.”

Her lips felt numb. His eyes were so blue. “I have to. Noisy sub. They said.”

“Said what, sugar?”

“Get attention. Noticed.”

Marcus frowned at his little sub. Eyes glazed, breathing slowly. The pain and pleasure had overwhelmed her until she rode a wave of endorphins and submission. She was deep into subspace, and the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

And he’d hit topspace, his senses overly acute, her every breath and movement pulling him further in, binding them into one. But “they said”? Was she hearing voices? “Who said, Gabi? Who told you to get noticed?”

Her brows drew together, and she blinked. “Kouros. Agent Kouros.”

What the hell? At his house, she’d dodged his question about a job… “Where do you work, Gabi?”

“FBI.”

It took a second, and then the word hit him like a bullet in the chest and he grunted at the impact. Chairs creaked behind him as the other doms rose, probably as stunned as he was. She’s been playing me? “You’re an FBI agent?”

Her brows drew together. “Yes. No.”

“You’re undercover.”

“Yes.” Her head sagged.

He needed to get her down. Glancing at the doms, he jerked his head for help. Raoul and Cullen unbuckled her wrists and Nolan her ankles. Marcus supported her weight and then scooped her into his arms. She’d lied to him. But no matter what happened, a dom didn’t abandon a sub after a scene.

He settled onto a wide porch swing with Gabi on his lap. When Nolan offered a sheet, he nodded. The evening felt too warm for blankets, but she’d need the comfort of something over her nakedness. Nolan tucked it around her body, and she shivered.

“Easy, sugar,” Marcus said. “You’re just fine. I’ve got you, Darlin’.”

As the endorphins wore off, her euphoria would disappear and the pain from the flogging would start to register. He hadn’t flogged her hard, but she’d taken a while to get deep enough into subspace.

She stirred again, probably feeling her skin stinging. Blinking up at him, she offered a lopsided smile. “Hey.”

Despite his anger, his heart tugged. She looked so sweet, nestled against him like a milk-fed puppy, her eyes open and honest.

No hidden reserve. He hadn’t realized its existence until it had disappeared. Secrets. Dammit. He hauled in slow breath.

“Hey,” he answered gently. His anger and his need to demand explanations would have to wait until they returned to even footing. She was too vulnerable right now.

“Rest, sugar. I have you,” he repeated. Her unique scent of rose and sandalwood and feminine musk slid into him.

Her fingers stroked his chest lightly as she snuggled. Her trust sent fury surging through him, because he’d trusted her in turn and she’d lied. As he rocked, he considered how Z had insisted Marcus take on a trainee they hadn’t discussed and insisted he keep her for a month. An unyielding fist squeezed his guts, and he lifted his head.

The others had pulled up chairs around him. Cullen, ever the bartender, handed Marcus an opened can of soda.

He took a long drink, but the cold bite of carbonation didn’t remove the bitterness of betrayal. “Z knew. That sorry bastard knew.”

Nolan’s black eyes studied the little sub as he drank his beer. “Seems likely.” Anger ran through the calm words.

At a sound from the house, Marcus glanced up at the third story. Z stepped out onto the landing and came down the steps to the veranda.

“Gentlemen,” Z said as he neared the group. “I’m sorry to be so late.” As every Master on the patio turned their attention to him, Z took a step back, one hand massaging his forehead as if someone had punched him—something Marcus really wanted to do. “What’s wrong?”

“We’ve discovered a few interesting facts about the new trainee,” Cullen said in a level voice. He nodded toward Gabi.

Z’s face went still. “What happened?”

“She’s okay. Just in subspace,” Cullen said quickly.

“I see.” Mouth thinned, Z asked Marcus, “You questioned her?”

A twang of guilt hit, and Marcus pushed it aside, recalling the nights he’d lain awake, trying to figure out the trainee Z had insisted he take. His voice came out hard. “She’s not a disobedient submissive—she’s an FBI agent. What else have you lied about, Z?”

Just then, Gabi squirmed on his lap. Using his arm as an aid, she pulled herself to a sitting position and rubbed her face. She smiled at Marcus. “I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

“Probably not.” He tried but couldn’t damp the anger soon enough.

Her smile wavered and died. She looked at the others. At Z. Back at Marcus. Her face paled to the color of Marcus’s white shirt, and she wrung her hands. “It’s all funny in my head, but I remember…I told—”

“Yes,” he interrupted. “You did.” Fury at her deception made his words clipped. Cold.

Her brow furrowed. “You questioned me—like a criminal. You wanted me to trust you just so you could do that to me.” She shoved to her feet, staggering back on shaky legs.

Marcus rose hastily to put an arm around her.

“Don’t touch me, you bastard.” She shoved at his arm. “Get away from me. I’m out of here. Never—”

“You’re not driving in this condition, Gabrielle,” Marcus said even as Z did. He glared at Z. “Stay out of this.”

Without answering, Z moved closer to cup Gabi’s cheek. “Are you all right, little one?”

Marcus’s anger flared higher as he fought the need to pull his sub out of Z’s reach.

She made such an effort to smile at Z that Marcus’s heart twisted. “I’m fine.”

And they could both feel her tremble. Dammit, he needed to stay with her; she couldn’t be left alone. He tightened his grip. “I’m taking her home, Z, and then we’ll talk.”

“No,” Gabi snapped and jerked away from him.

“Gabrielle,” Marcus warned.

“You have no—nothing to do with me.” The look of betrayal on her face matched his own, and he felt as if he’d kicked a defenseless child. “I don’t want you near me. You bastard.” Her voice broke, and she turned away.

Marcus considered. He could overrule her and take her home, but his presence right now would be more damaging than someone else’s. Especially since he still didn’t understand what was going on. “Raoul?”

“Yes,” Raoul said, understanding immediately. “I’ll drive her car—and her—to her place.” He pulled Gabi into his arms, ignoring her protests. “This isn’t up for discussion, chiquita. You don’t have a choice.”

When she sagged, too tired to put up a fight, Raoul said, “Nolan, can you follow and bring me back after? It might take a while, since I want to make sure she doesn’t drop. Further.”

“Can do. No problem.” Nolan shot Z an icy stare. “But you and I will talk.”

“Understood.” As the two doms escorted Gabi through the side gate, Z pulled out his cell and told someone Gabi was being driven home. He shut the phone on the sound of a man cursing and kneaded his brow. “What a night.”

“No shit.” Cullen handed Z a drink, getting a surprised look. “Yes, I’m pissed off, but you rarely do anything without a reason, so I’ll wait until I hear it.”

Marcus wasn’t feeling that charitable. Guilty as hell was his judgment.

Cullen took a chair, stretching his long legs out, deliberately lowering the sense of an impending fight. Z and Marcus remained standing.

Marcus braced his feet. The other Masters had known Z for years. Marcus hadn’t, and the bastard had damned well destroyed any chance of that. Marcus planned to have his say, tear up his membership card, and never look back. Right now his only question was whether to use a fist to punctuate his statement.

Z’s gaze met his. “Marcus.” He sighed. “Let’s talk. I have decisions to make, and since the secret is out, you all can help.” The bastard pulled two chairs over and shoved one to Marcus before sitting across from him and Cullen. Deliberately taking the hot-seat position.

Despite his anger, Marcus had to admire the man’s self-possession. Dropping into the chair, Marcus set his elbows on the arms. Waiting silently.

“The FBI came to me two weeks ago,” Z started. “The previous month, a submissive had been kidnapped and then escaped. Before she died of a gunshot wound, she said someone was kidnapping rebellious subs for a slave auction—for men who want the pleasure of breaking them. More slaves are scheduled to be taken from Tampa, and the final pickup of victims is next Sunday.”

“Son of a bitch,” Cullen muttered.

“Three subs from different BDSM clubs are missing in Atlanta. The FBI has no leads, so they placed decoy submissives in Tampa/St. Pete clubs. Gabrielle was assigned to the Shadowlands. I had to give my word not to tell anyone, even you, Marcus, although I did protest the secrecy. Both sides had valid arguments, and unfortunately the FBI is in control of the decision.”