The Dom With the Perfect Brats (32 page)

“Those tire tracks look fresh,” Malachi pointed out.

“True, but it could be anyone.” They drove in silence for a few minutes, watching the tracks in front of them and searching the surrounding woods. Eventually the road widened into a clearing, “Look. Smoke.” Cross gestured to a billow of smoke above the trees, in the distance.

“
I see it. Sorry man, but looking at this place, I doubt they came here on their own.”

Cross pulled off the dirt road and parked the truck close to the tree line. “
I know. We should walk in so we don’t freak him out. He might do something desperate.”

“Or bolt.”

“True, and I want to beat the fucking shit out of him before I call the cops.”

“I’ll hold his arms.”

Cross grabbed the rope from the truck box and Mal fished his baseball bat out from where he’d stashed it behind the seat. The phone! Cross unplugged it and stuffed it in his pocket. He hoped they’d be calling the cops in a few minutes.

They snuck through the underbrush, trying not to sound like a herd of angry moose.

A cabin. He imagined them sneaking up on some poor old man and scaring the shit out of him. This could be anyone’s cabin. The app map led them to the area, but it wasn’t precise enough to say the girls were inside the creepy old hunt camp on the dirt road next to the nameless stream.

T
he car parked in front, however, said they were in the right place. They’d found Carl – or his vehicle, at least.

From the shelter of the trees, Cross checked the license plate then nodded to Malachi and gave him the thumbs up.

The cabin door burst open and a man came swaggering out. He matched the description of Carl that Sarah had left on his machine. Thirties, well-groomed – almost metro. He didn’t look like a dangerous man, but if anyone knew appearances could be deceiving, it was Cross. Now the question was whether Carl was alone – and whether he had a gun.

If he had a big enforcer-type with him things could get complicated.
Crime dramas made it look easy to hire some lackey to do your illegal grunt work, but he doubted it was like that in the white collar world.

Carl walked a few steps away from the camp and lit a
cigarette. He paced for a few minutes, smoking and looking thoughtful – unaware that Cross was waiting a few feet away in the woods and that Malachi had circled around and was creeping up behind him from the other side of the cabin. When Mal was in position, watching the cabin door right behind Carl, Cross stepped from the trees.

For a moment Carl stared at him
. The cigarette dropped from his fingers, forgotten. “Cross.”

“
You know who I am?” His heart pounded in his ears. The man glared, his hard blue eyes disgusted. “My wife had a picture of you on her phone, cocksucker. How did you find me?”

“Long story. Where are my women?”

Carl paused, a creepy smirk twitching at his lips. “In the cabin, but you’re too late. I trussed them like sheep and slit their throats an hour ago. They’re dead.”

Was he bluffing? Cross stared at him for a minute
in disbelief. His mind jumped around in a panic. The man’s expression said he wasn’t lying. There was nothing there but smugness and malice. A man who’d gotten even.

Anguish. Rage. He barreled
into him, knocking him to the ground. Carl had a knife in his hand, but he never got to use it. Not on him. Oh God, they were dead! He’d killed them. His brain burned, pumping his body full of adrenaline. Kneeling across the man, he punched and punched until he was blood and broken teeth. The face was pulp under his knuckles. He was yelling, sobbing. Mal pulled him off.

“Fuck! Stop. Stop,
Cross!” Malachi held onto him, but he flailed and barely missed hitting his friend. He wrenched free and stared down at the bloody whimpering mess at his feet. The
thing
needed destroying before it hurt someone else. Malachi kept yelling stop until it sunk in and Cross lowered his hands.

“I have to see... I have to
go see.” Cross stumbled off toward the cabin.

“No! Don’t go in there
by yourself. I’m calling the cops. Just wait.” Malachi blocked his path, pushing at Cross’s chest, urging him away from the door. He dialed the phone and pulled Cross back.

Tears streamed down Cross’s face, obscuring his vision. They’d never heard his message. They didn’t know he loved them. He sobbed and buried his face in his hands, hunched over. Malachi wrapped an arm over his back and held him, like he used to when they were kids and
Cross’s mother had beat him bad.

“I’m going now. What if they’re just hurt?” he asked desperately.

Malachi looked agonized for a moment, but finally nodded. “Okay, I’ll go with you.”

Cross made it up
two stairs. His legs shook so badly he thought they might give way. Blood. He stopped. There was blood on the stairs, leading up to the door. Drops and splatters and little smears, mocking him, stealing his hopes. His stomach roiled and he fought down the bile that threatened to escape.

“What was that?” Malachi’s head went up. “Did you hear something? That can’t be the cops yet.”

Cross looked at Carl, but he still lay, unmoving, in the grass. Was he dead? Did he give a shit? They could throw Cross in jail for what he’d done to the guy’s face, but he didn’t think he cared. Maybe God would pity him and he’d get shivved.

The ugly, hollow feeling inside him spread. His mother had been right.
Evil had gotten to the girls because of him.

He forced himself up the remaining stairs. He would look because he deserved this pain. Because he should have warned them – or stayed away from them. Never pursued them in the first place. He
wasn’t good enough to shine their shoes. He took the stairs two at a time, then banged open the door.

Cross fell to his knees. His women stared back at him – bound, gagged,
but very much alive.

For a moment he was afraid to look away – afraid to move. If this was a hallucination he didn’t want to blink and have it disappear. Courage found him and he scrambled to his feet
. He got to Gemma and Izzy so slowly it felt like they kept moving backward down a long hallway. Was this a moment of insanity? Was he wishing so hard that he’d convinced himself they were alive?

A noise he couldn’t identify escaped him, like something a wounded animal would make.
He reached out with shaking hands and touched women who were warm and breathing. Alive.

Malachi came up beside him and helped untie their arms and legs, while he unwound tape from their mouths and hair. Cross was babbling reassurances to them, tears running down his cheeks. He
heard Malachi saying something but he couldn’t remember what.

When they were finally free, he pulled them into his arms, clinging to them like they were the last vestiges of his sanity. Even if they left him and never wanted to see them again, it was enough that they were alive. He just wanted them to have a chance to live – to be happy. He was immaterial.

Gemma grunted a little and he loosened his hold on them both.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked
if you were hurt. But I was just so scared for you.” Letting his arms fall to his sides was torture. He wanted to hold them on his lap until he died of old age.

Neither moved away, and Izzy grabbed his wrist and pulled it back around her shoulders.

Gemma leaned against him, her head against his collarbone. “I didn’t want you to let go. You were just squashing me. Please don’t let me go.”

H
e snaked his arm back around her. She was crying. Izzy too. Together they were a big soggy mess.

“Are you hurt anywhere? Did he...”
It was none of his damned business, he realized.

“No. He didn’t
,” Izzy mumbled. “He got the crazy idea to scar us up tomorrow. We had until tomorrow to get away.”

They sat quietly, bundled together, and listened to the sirens approaching in the distance. Small fingers wiped at his face. Gemma was looking up at him, drying tears he’d forgotten he’d shed.

“Doms are allowed to cry, but only in front of their subs. I don’t want the police to think my man is a pussy.”

A shocked laugh burst from Cross’
s mouth. It hurt more than crying had. His chest felt raw.

“If you saw what he did to Carl,” Malachi drawled, “you wouldn’t worry about anyone thinking that.”

***

The ambulance had come and gone,
the girls had been checked over and found mostly intact except for scrapes and bruises, the police had taken their statements, and they’d made the drive home. Malachi had gotten more hugs than he knew what to do with, only complaining that Cross’s made his ribs creak.

He left right when they got home
, saying he needed to get his cape and boots drycleaned before his date tonight. Smartass. But Cross felt the size of the debt he owed the man.

Cross, Izzy and Gemma showered together, all of them squeezing into Cross’s walk-in – all of them afraid to be alone.

In bed, later, they lay together, the girl’s heads pillowed on his chest. If Gemma had wanted to break up with him last night, she seemed to have forgotten. That suited Cross just fine. He’d take what he could get, even if it was temporary.

He told them about Zenobia – about how they’d asked him to be her godfather. He babbled about her little expressions, her tiny toes. Delaying the inevitable.

Sometimes he couldn’t help himself, and he’d clutch them to him, trying to stave off the tears that kept trying to escape.

They talked about being scared, being locked in the trunk. He explained the crazy hunt for them and how he and Malachi had tracked them using his phone.
He’d never been more proud of Gemma having managed to speed dial her phone with her arms zip-tied behind her back. It must’ve hurt so much struggling in those ties. His brave girls.

But now he had to
tell them.

“
This was all my fault.” He loosened his hold on them, knowing that moments from now they might be getting up to walk out his door. Liar. Not telling was the same as lying. “Carl took you to get even with me.”

“He said you messed around with his wife. You were her lover?” Gemma asked.

Cross sighed. “That would be so much easier to explain. For awhile I used to...” He paused, struggling for the right inflection. He went with matter-of-fact. “Pro-Dom.”

They looked up at him
and said nothing. Minutes ticked past. His heart sank.

“I used to d
om women for money, but I didn’t have sex with any of them or touch them sexually. I... I needed the money and it paid well.” He shrugged. “I would have told you sooner, but I was afraid you wouldn’t understand. I never imagined anything like this would happen.” His voice broke. “I’m so sorry.”

“You did it for your family,” Gemma
said, calmly. “Why did you stop, if it paid so well?” Neither of them was running away screaming. They didn’t look angry or shocked. Cross wondered if they were hiding their feelings or just hadn’t processed it yet. It’d been a long night already.

“Yes, my family can’t really get by without me, and my shop didn’t make much money for the first few years, until it built a name for itself. I stopped because I was finally in the position where I could quit and still support everyone.”

They remained quiet. He wished he could pat them down for answers, but he’d just have to trust that they would tell him what they thought in their own good time.

“Are there any other dangerous people in your life that we should know about?” Izzy pressed.

“My mother. She has a good arm and has been known to throw things, but usually only at me. I also have a few stalkers, but they mostly gave up on me after I filed the restraining orders. Plus, there are the two of you, of course.”

Gemma snorted. “We’re dangerous?”

“Only to me. I’m at your mercy, but I think both of you know that.”

“About the pro-domming
,” Gemma said, biting down on her lip. “I wish you would have told us earlier, but I’m not angry. I hope you’ll be more honest with us going forward though. But it’s not like you could have warned us if you didn’t know he was going to go after us.”

“Not really your fault,” Izzy agreed. “The man was unhinged. He might have done the same if we cut him off on the motorway or something. You’re not responsible for that.”

They were too good for him. He teared up again but kept his voice hard to compensate. “If you want to leave now, or whenever, I’ll understand. It’s a lot to accept.” The wobble in his words was hard on his pride, but this hurt.

Gemma smiled up at him. “Nice try, princess. You’re not getting rid of us that easily.”

One month later

Gemma

Gemma
woke, panting, with tears running down her cheeks. The room was dark. This time she didn’t bother to feel for another body in the bed like she’d done other times. She already knew she was alone. It’d been her idea. After wiping the sweat from her forehead, she reached for her phone on the side table. Cross had strongly suggested she text him after every nightmare. It was as close to an order as Cross could get since they’d decided to try vanilla for a while.

The screen’s glow made her squint her eyes for a moment. She read the time. One in the m
orning. Cross was probably up anyway. She hated bothering him about it but he seemed sincere in his request and never scolded her for texting him. And honestly, it did make her feel better.

I had another nightmare.

It only took a moment to get a reply. He must’ve been awake.
Are you okay?

Was she?
Not really, in more ways than one. But she didn’t need to go there tonight. One crisis at a time. She typed back,
yes.

Do you want me to come over?

The first time, he’d rushed over and Maddi had woken and called the police.
No. My roommate will freak.

She could picture him grinding his teeth in frustration. He hadn’t moved beyond the guilt yet. Texting hi
m her nightmares a couple times a week probably wasn’t helping.

Do you want me to call?

She’d rather be in bed with him, but she’d insisted on her independence and refused to move in with him when he’d asked. The first time. Then the dozens of times after. Her will was weakening though. And she knew Izzy was considering it too.

Izzy. She wasn’t suffering from nightmares like Gemma, but she saw little signs of trauma. She flinched at loud noises. And
, if you touched her from behind, she about flew out of her skin. Psychologically, it made sense for them to live separately while they healed. At least it made sense in her head. Admittedly, she was no psychologist.

It’s okay. Just text with me a sec?

Of course.

She smiled. Vanilla was
...interesting. But it was better than nothing. Before she could send another, her alert beeped.

This is why I want you two to move in with me. You’
d never be in danger again.

With a chuckle, she typed.
In danger again?! Just how many psychotic ex-sub husbands do you have in your life?

She waited for him to respond and call her a brat, or maybe cheeky girl.

I meant you would feel safe.

A frown slipped onto her lips. Vanilla. They were vanilla now. No more teasing about bratting or spanking or needing a gag. It was so ordinary. But it’d been her idea. She couldn’t complain about it now.

Sighing, she lay back on her pillow and typed a last message.
Feeling better. Going back to bed now.

A longer time between made her wonder what he was thinking.
I love you. Goodnight, Gemma.

***

The next day at work, everything felt like slow motion. The White Tree of Gondor she was currently tattooing on a young man was taking almost twice as long as usual. Side effect of the poor sleep last night.

Ma
lachi had already nudged her awake twice during a staff meeting. He’d even threatened to smack her then mumbled about Cross not doing it anymore. She felt guilty enough not to give him hell about such a ridiculous threat. So guilty and in such a haze she actually answered, yes sir. He’d shaken his head and sighed.

She d
ipped the machine into the ink and vowed to pick up the pace before she got fired. Her next appointment started in fifteen minutes and she had at least thirty left to finish the tree.

The bell on the front door jangled and she looked up. Cross entered and the air seemed to
go out of the room. The two female customers in the shop both sighed and watched him with googly eyes.
Back off, bitches
, she wanted to say.

“Are you finally here for that fairy tattoo?” she asked with a smirk. Maybe he’d wake her up enough to get a move on.

“No.” He meandered over to her station. “I brought you some coffee.”

“Thanks. You can set it down on there.” She gestured with her head to a clean spot on her work table. “I’ll give you a few bucks in a minute.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Looking up at
him, she wondered how much he could take before Dom-mode kicked in. “I insist.”

His jaw clenched and he inh
aled a deep breath. She’d thought it was getting easier for him to be vanilla but every once in a while, the strain of it showed on him.

“Okay,” he finally said with the patience of a parent speaking with a small child. “The total was
two dollars and forty-two cents.”

Silas looked at him like he’d grown another head.
Malachi shook his head and mumbled to himself. Cross tossed him a look then stalked off. Was forcing this slowly breaking him? Honestly, she hadn’t thought it would last this long. She’d thought he wouldn’t be able to do it and things would go back to normal. But normal hadn’t been working either. Did a solution that made everyone happy exist?

Sighing, she got back to work.
She really didn’t want to break Cross, but every time they hung out, he got more and more withdrawn – like pretending to be who he wasn’t was wearing on him. If she was selfless, she’d cut him loose. Izzy too. Let them be happy in their D/s relationship without her. But she loved them so fucking much, and couldn’t bear to lose them – though they were feeling less and less like themselves in the last week, and more like strangers.

A few hours lat
er, having finished the tree and tattooed a dancing skeleton on her next client, she cleaned her station then gathered her things for home.

On her way out, Malachi stopped her. “I miss him.”

She froze with her hand on the door.

“I know you do too.”

He didn’t understand. He knew the facts but not the feelings. She waited a moment but when he said nothing else, she walked out the door.

September rolled in at unusually high temperatures
– weird considering how cool August had been, but that was just how the northeast coast was, she’d been told. Now that kids were back in school, the three of them had been spending a lot of time at the beach. It was some of her favorite moments. Cross carrying Izzy piggy back, the three of them collecting shells, and the girls pushing Cross into the waves. She smiled as she looked past the boardwalk at the water graying from the dimming light of sunset.

A familiar figure walked the line just before the water. Izzy.
Her heart sped up, like it often did when she saw her. Her Izzy. She was being so patient with the struggle between her and Cross, but she knew it was tormenting her. Izzy had the advantage of seeing things from both sides. It hurt her to think she put Izzy in such a terrible position.

Gemma made her way to the sand then slipped off her shoes when she got there. It took a little jog to catch up, but Izzy smiled and took her hand when she reached her.

Gemma kissed her on the lips briefly then swung their hands between their bodies. “Whatcha’ doin’?”

She shrugged. “Just going for a walk. I’ll miss this when the weather turns cold.”

“Me too.” Taking a big whiff of the salty air, she sighed contentedly. When she’d first arrived here in the spring, she didn’t think it would ever feel like home. Her old shop, Lync, her friends... She’d thought they were irreplaceable. In a way, they were. Nobody could ever be them. But now she had The Ink Haven, her aunt and uncle – who were quickly becoming parent-like figures for her. At least until she visited her mom and dad during the holidays. Most of all, she had Izzy and Cross. She’d even been toying with the idea of bringing them to her aunt and uncle’s house for Sunday dinner some time. Maybe ease them into the idea of their quirky, non-traditional relationship slowly. Cobalt Harbor wasn’t where she’d been born and raised, but it was beginning to feel like a lot like home. “So what are we making for dinner tonight?”

They had a standing date every Friday night at Cross’s house for dinner. Sometimes he cooked, sometimes they did. Tonight was their turn.

“I was thinking lasagna.”

Gemma chuckled. “
And we’ve come full circle.”

“Yeah. Only this time I won’t get tied to the bed post.” She laughed but it was humorless.

Did she want that? Izzy had told her a thousand times she was okay with being vanilla for now. She’d even agreed it was probably best, but Gemma saw the discouraged sighs when Cross ignored a smartass comment. And she caught her fingering the bed post as if remembering something she missed.

She
’d thought BDSM ruined people but, maybe in this case,
she
was.

“I’
m starving,” she said to Izzy. “Let’s go make our man some food.”

***

Cross greeted them at the door with giant hugs that threatened to snap her ribs. She giggled when he shoved his nose against her neck and inhaled. He had Izzy in his other arm.

She grunted. “Cross, I missed you too but you’re crushing me.”

Reluctantly, he let them go. That’s how it’d been since after the kidnapping. Big hugs, lingering kisses – it was like he wanted to make every moment with them count. It was sweet but a little suffocating. He gazed down at them for a moment before moving out of the doorway so they could walk inside.

“Here,” Gemma said, hefting the grocery bag from the floor outside the door. “I brought ingredients in case you only had ketchup again.”

He laughed. “I learned my lesson last time.”

“Look,” Izzy said from the kitchen. They followed her inside. “A jar of real sauce!” She held it up with a smile. “I’m amazed.”

“Har, har.” Cross took it from her hand and placed it on the counter. “I can be domesticated. Maybe I’ll even take up knitting.”

Gemma barked a laugh.

“Don’t laugh, gir –” He cut off and looked away. “Gemma.”

Her heart
sank. She missed when he called her girl. Maybe others would find it demeaning, but it was their special thing. Now she was just Gemma, the same thing everybody else called her.

Izzy broke the awkward silence. “Come on, Gemma.” She grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the counter she leaned against. Placing her between her legs, she slid her arms down Gemma’s side
s.

Gemma smiled and put her hands on either side of her girlfriend on the counter. They kissed, softly, sensually, until they heard Cross clear his throat from behind them.

Izzy gave him a sly look. “Do you think if we cook naked we’ll finally get some action, Gemma?”

He chuckled. “Your chances are
good.” From behind, he slipped his hands around Gemma’s waist and under her shirt.

Goose bumps prickled on her belly from his cold hands. She wiggled to try to get away.

“Stay still,” he whispered and licked the side of her neck.

She groaned.
Even that small demand – if she could call it that – sent a wave of lust through her. Fuck, she missed his growled commands, the marks he left on her body which he stared at proudly all day, his hand in her hair, forcing his will no matter what she said to get out of it.

Tonight they’d fool around. They’d kiss and lick and run their hands gently over each others
’ bodies. He’d fuck them. Then they’d cuddle and go to bed. There’d be no passion. No intensity. Vanilla was so fucking boring. What the hell had she been thinking? There should be a t-shirt that says “once you go kink, you never go back.” Cross probably had one like it in his closet. When you’ve tried every flavor, who in their right mind would ever order vanilla?

But it wasn’t just that kinky sex was more fun. There was more
to it than that. She didn’t want Cross to control every second of her life, but she did like that she could count on him to do what was best for their weird little fucked-up family. She didn’t need a caretaker but it made her feel loved when he was being protective. Giving up control in the bedroom, surrendering herself to pain and pleasure and everything he took from her, it gave her a high like she’d never experienced. Not just a high but a peaceful calm too. When her mind was spinning, Cross taking control with a hand in her hair grounded her. And submitting outside the bedroom seemed to be what he needed. If he could loosen up a little, she could live with the 24/7 thing. Submission seemed far bigger than pinpointing a certain time and place for it anyway. Her love for him outweighed her pride. She could give him submission when he wanted it.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she blurted.

Cross stepped back. She spun to face him. His skin paled as he stared, dumbfounded.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Was that too rough? You know I’d do anything for you. I can’t lose you ag –”

“Shh.” She wrapped her arms around his torso, her head barely reaching his shoulders. “I’m not breaking up with you.” Turning, she reached out for Izzy and she joined them. “You know I love you both. I don’t...” Emotion lodged in her throat. How could she communicate how much she needed them, wanted them? “There aren’t even words to express what you mean to me. But this vanilla... It’s like we’re pretending to be something we’re just not.”