Servicing the Target (Masters of the Shadowlands #10)(72)
Author: Cherise Sinclair

A rumble of thunder drew her gaze to the shining streaks of rain slanting downward. Even in darkness, there was beauty.

Ben knew that. Showed that in his pictures. Anne shouldn’t forget and perhaps should try to see the positive aspects of her early years. “I had my family,” she said finally. “Good schools.” Her mind cast about. “Enough to eat.”

“That’s the best you can say about your childhood? That you got enough to eat? Fu-” He cut off the curse with a glance at her mother.

Moisture gleamed in her mother’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Anne.”

Way to put your foot in it, Anne. “Oh, Mom, there wasn’t anything you could have done. Moving is a part of life for military families. I survived—and grew stronger because of it. And because you gave me a beach house, I’m very settled now.”

After blinking back tears, her mother finally gave her a wry smile. “You’re settled all right. So settled that you smacked Travis for moving one of your chairs.” She glanced at Ben. “She doesn’t like things changed, so be warned.”

He was still regarding her with a deep crease between his heavy brows.

Anne rolled her eyes at him and watched a smile appear in his brown eyes. “Why don’t you go cut a few slices of that bread, Mom? As soon as this search is done, I’ll be down.”

Her mother looked relieved at the change of subject. “Why are you working here and not at the bail company? You said you tried not to bring casework home.”

“This is personal. You remember Uzuri? She was over here with a group of women—gave you that department store discount card?”

“The one with marvelous style and an adorable sense of humor?”

“That’s her. She’s been antsy, and I finally got her to admit she’s worried about her ex. She moved here to get away from him. So I’m checking to ensure he’s where she left him—a thousand miles away.”

“Good for you.” Ben’s smile warmed her down to her toes.

“Russell and Matt say Anne is absolutely superb at skip tracing,” her mother said proudly. “They’ve never seen anyone as good.”

Anne shrugged. “Since I so resented changing my life, I understand how people who are forced to move will react. How they’ll cling to old patterns for comfort.”

Ben frowned. “Like?”

“Like even if a skip moves to a new city, he’ll probably still visit Taco Bell every Friday, if that’s what he did before.”

“So you took your hard lessons and turned them into useful knowledge. Nice.” His respect was gratifying, especially since the talk about her childhood had left her unsettled.

He leaned down and waited until she smiled permission before giving her a light kiss. A comforting kiss. “I’ll fix us supper if you promise to share your mom’s treat.”

“You’re such a sugarholic. But I’ll take that deal.”

As her mother turned to go, Anne frowned, realizing she’d retained some anger that her mother hadn’t prevented all the moves. And the trauma. How childish was that? Man up, Desmarais. “I love you, Mom.”

* * * *

That night, Ben had his feet up on the coffee table with his laptop in his lap, as he plotted next week’s schedule of possible shoots. Across the room, his woman was preparing to go hunt fugitives.

The sound of the waves on the shore came through the open windows. Anne had her soft jazz playlist on the iPod. He was getting used to her music, although he occasionally risked her wrath to play some classical artists—like Willie Nelson or Waylon Jennings.

A so-called slave shouldn’t buck his Mistress, but…favorite tunes should be shared, right?

Sharing was part of a relationship, from food to sex to music to…past histories. He’d have to give her a big FAIL there; she was fucking elusive. He’d never met a woman who talked so little about herself.

And it wasn’t that she lacked confidence as a Mistress. Hell, she could give the other Masters lessons in self-assurance.

Elaine’s visit earlier had shed some light on Anne’s past. She’d been ripped away from friends and pets, over and over. The way she’d gone expressionless when the discussion turned to relocating told him that she’d suffered far more than her mother had realized back then.

He shook his head. He’d met some clueless Dominants, but Anne hadn’t achieved the title of Shadowlands “Mistress” by lacking sensitivity. If anything, she felt too much.

What were the odds that she was fending off possible future hurt by rigidly controlling both her environment and her lovers?