Make Me, Sir

He glanced around. Z said the FBI agents planned to drop by tonight to give the Masters an update and their thanks. Marcus intended to ask for an update also. The bastards had refused to tell him Gabi’s location; perhaps they’d be more cooperative in person.

“Hey, Marcus.” Behind the bar, Cullen waggled a bottle of beer.

Marcus hesitated, then walked over and took the drink. He’d stopped his pain meds yesterday, and his shoulder throbbed like a sadistic dentist had drilled holes in it. “Thank you, Cullen.”

“You look a bit pissed off. Anything I can do?”

Marcus’s mood lightened slightly. To his surprise, all the Masters had visited him in the hospital. Once he’d gone home, their care continued. Z and Jessica had brought groceries and books on Monday, followed by Dan and Kari, who’d cooked and frozen meals for him to microwave. On Tuesday, Nolan and Beth had stopped by to run errands and had found Sensei and a batch of his teenagers there. Beth had commandeered the boys to do his yard work. Impressed by their enthusiasm, she’d hired two for her gardening service.

Wednesday, Anne, Olivia, and Sam had visited in the morning. Then Andrea had cleaned his house—over his objections—while Cullen had put together a meal. Z and Jessica on Thursday—as well as some associates from the DA's office. On Friday, Raoul had barbecued steaks he’d brought, and the rest had arrived to hold an informal engagement celebration for Z and Jessica, and Nolan and Beth. He’d lived in Tampa only a year, but he’d made some good friends without realizing it.

They hadn’t allowed him to get lonely, but despite their company, he’d missed Gabi as if he’d misplaced a body part. His heart, maybe.

Marcus took a sip of beer and looked at Cullen. “Nothing you can do, thank you, unless you enjoy pounding on FBI agents.”

Cullen grinned. “Tempting… Got a reason or are you just bored?”

“Gabrielle isn’t in town.” Every day that had gone by, he’d expected to hear from her. But she hadn’t called. Hadn’t left a message. The memory of her eyes when she’d said, “Good-bye, Marcus,” haunted him. “She hasn’t returned to her job, and I can’t find her. Her phone and address are buried well, and neither her Miami office nor Vance will give me her phone number or even relay a message.”

“I can see how that would burn your ass.” Cullen frowned. “The agents got here a few minutes ago. They stopped by the bar to say thanks.” Cullen glanced at his sub. “Sweetheart, did you see where Z and the others went?”

Andrea finished drawing a beer and frowned at Marcus. “You look terrible. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Irrelevant,” Marcus said. “Where’s Z?”

Andrea set the drink in front of Olivia and muttered, “Men are such idiots,” winning a snort of laughter from the domme.

“Pet,” Cullen warned.

She sniffed and set her hands on her hips. Her attitude resembled Gabi’s so much that grief slid like a knife between his ribs. “Fine, just die and see if I care. They’re way at the back, close to the cages, behind the giant fern planter.”

“Thank you, Andrea,” Marcus said. “Cullen, please swat her ass for me.”

“Be my pleasure to do that little thing, buddy.”

As Marcus walked away, he heard a squeak and a thud as a mouthy sub got tossed onto the bar, and then the slap of a hand on bare flesh.

Andrea’s voice rose. “Chíngate, cabrón.”

Marcus shook his head, smiling. That insult would probably get her gagged.

The secluded sitting area held the FBI agents and some of the Shadowlands Masters. In the chorus of greetings, Raoul patted an empty chair. “We waited for you.”

“Thank you,” Marcus acknowledged.

The only sub present, Jessica, was curled up in Z’s lap, looking much like the kitten he called her, and Marcus smiled at her. The misery of not having Gabi in his arms hurt worse than the hole in his shoulder.

Z nodded at the agents, an unspoken gesture that they had the floor.

Vance leaned forward. “First, this information is privileged and not to be shared with anyone, even your subs.” He glanced at Jessica. “Anyone, pet.”

She nodded.

“You know Jessica and Gabi’s kidnapping followed three others in Tampa.” Vance scowled. “The man killed on the dock, Maganti, was a private investigator here in Tampa. He received a list of women, investigated them, and chose four who could easily disappear. He did the same thing about two years ago.”

“Two years apart?” Nolan straightened. “That’s a fucking long setup.”

“So it seems.” Vance rubbed his neck. “We didn’t gain enough information, dammit. The boat escaped clean. Maganti died. The hireling knows very little.”

“Were they involved in the Atlanta kidnappings?” Marcus asked.

Vance shook his head. “Only here.”

“Two years ago. More than one city. You’re dealing with a human trafficking organization,” Marcus said.

“And one that’s very well concealed,” Galen agreed. “We’d still be in the dark if that Atlanta victim hadn’t escaped. We’ve already found two other cities with this pattern of disappearances.”

“That’s not good,” Dan muttered. The cop shot a frown at Z. “Did any Shadowlands submissives disappear two years ago?”

“I checked.” Z’s jaw tightened. “A young woman—college student. Not a feisty one. A redhead.” As if to reassure himself of her safety, he pulled Jessica closer, and she turned her head into his shoulder.

Marcus breathed out slowly. He needed to know for himself Gabrielle was safe.

“I don’t understand,” Raoul said. “If the student wasn’t a brat—”

Vance said, “We examined other Tampa club records. As far as we can tell, four redheaded subs disappeared two years ago.”

Nolan grunted. “Specialty items for auction or maybe for filling custom orders.”

“Did Maganti or Jang belong to any BDSM clubs?” Marcus asked.

“No,” Galen said. “Someone else made up the list of potential victims, and gentlemen, you should assume the spotter is still in place. We will, of course, do our best to root him out, but…”

“We’ll watch,” Dan said. The other Masters nodded.

Nolan cracked his knuckles. “Be more rewarding if we find him first.”

“I didn’t hear that,” Vance said in a stern voice, obviously trying to suppress a smile. “On a happier note, the agent who’d abandoned Gabi—she did break his nose, by the way—no longer works for the FBI.”

Low murmurs around the group, consisting mostly of the designation of “asshole” and “bastard,” aside from Nolan, who simply growled.

“That’s it.” Vance got to his feet, Galen struggled to his, and they shook hands with everyone. Marcus waited patiently.

As Vance talked with Dan, Galen bent down to Jessica. “I’m sorry you got caught up in this, sweetie.”

“Not your fault—I was already on the list.” Her smile turned to a grin. “Besides, I got to see Master Z kick major ass.”

He tugged her hair, grinned at Z. “I like your brat.”

Z merely smiled. “As do I. I fear you and Vance will need to find your own.”

Galen finally walked over to Marcus. “Thank you for the help. I regret we weren’t quick enough to keep you from getting shot.” He pulled an envelope from his suit pocket. “Gabrielle wrote this for you.”

His hopes rose, then dropped. A letter meant she didn’t want to speak to him. Dammit. “I’d like her phone number.”

Galen’s eyes held sympathy. “I can’t, Marcus. It’s not only against the rules, but she requested we not give it to you.”

Marcus stepped back, winded as if he’d caught a roundhouse kick to his gut. She didn’t want to see him. Not caring how rude it might be, he ripped open the letter and read the few sentences.

Marcus,

Thank you for your care while I was in the Shadowlands. Thank you for saving my life. I’m so very sorry I caused you to get shot.

Galen says you want my number, but I just want to move on and not remember this last month.

His guts felt battered. The last month was one of the finest in his life, and she wanted to forget it?

I’m sure you’ll find it a relief to not have a brat in your trainees.

Thank you for everything,

Gabrielle.

Gabrielle, not Gabi. Does that mean we’re not even friends either? He saw Galen hadn’t moved. “She’s sure I’ll find it a relief not to have a brat in my trainees. She wants to forget everything—and not speak to me.”

“You know, as a law enforcement officer, I recommend you honor the lady’s wishes. As a dom…” A corner of Galen’s mouth turned up. “Marcus, she was hurting when she wrote the letter, just as much as you are now. I think she’s wrong.”

Vance had joined them, and he nodded agreement and shook Marcus’s hand. “Good luck. You’ll need it—but she’s worth it.”