Page 27 of What About Love

The elusive dimple appeared. “Want me to help you wash up?”

“Hm, maybe not so wiped as that, but thanks anyway.”

He laughed, bending over, offering both hands now. More whipped from being a complete loser than anything else, she dug deep for the last of her energy reserves.

Once on her feet, she stomped on his toe, grabbed his balls in a vise-like grip then curled her leg around the back of his knee. He went down with a thud and anoomph, complete surprise written on his face. She didn’t have time to gloat before she landed on top of him, brought down once again by a long and lightning-fast arm.

“Nice maneuver, babe,” he rasped, recovering with remarkable speed. “But you’ve got to keep going. Once you have him by the balls, give ’em a good twist and follow it up with a knee to incapacitate. Otherwise, he might confuse it with a proposition.”

Spurred on by his teasing, she moved her knee right where he recommended, and pressed down. When he sucked in a breath, Angie gazed down at him with a grin. “So noted, Sir Trainer.”

Using his inner thigh like a springboard, she pushed off and hopped to her feet, savoring what satisfaction she could get from his secondoomphof the day. This time, she remembered his quickness and jumped back, avoiding the sweep of his arm toward her feet.

It was her time to give him a wee bit of wisdom. “You know, my daddy was a boxer. He didn’t care about scorecards or punch counts. He always said the only thing that really mattered was who was still standing when the bell rang.”

Without another word including theding, dingof a fake bell that was on the tip of her tongue—it killed her not to, refraining because she knew he could have crushed her if he really wanted to—she flicked her hand out, two fingers extended in dismissal, as she’d seen him do many times in the past. Despite her screaming muscles, her step was light as she left the gym.

While his laughter, low and beautiful, followed in her wake, Angie’s heart twisted painfully. She was insomuch trouble.

***

“THREE WOMEN, EACH APPROXIMATELYthirty years of age, tall, ranging between five feet ten and six feet tall, all fit, attractive, with long hair. They had something else in common. All experienced submissives, unattached, and actively pursuing a dom.”

When Eric Dupree, the managing partner at Decadence LA finished his rundown, the screen switched from the pictures of the three missing women back to his face. What Angie had noticed when he’d first signed on—an extraordinarily attractive man with startling blue eyes, dark-blond hair, and a closely trimmed pencil beard, which, if not for its presence, would have made his classical features too pretty—now didn’t register. As she stared at the screen, one word kept repeating in her head,unattached.

“This changes everything,” T murmured from his seat beside her, having clued in on the same thing.

“Is there a problem?” Eric asked.

“Yeah, we’d planned to go in as a couple.”

“That won’t do. These women were very public about their pursuit of a new dominant. They also weren’t shy about their play, exhibitionists each one.” Eric’s astute gaze locked on her face for a moment, switching to T briefly, and finally moving on to Cap. “There’s one other thing they had in common.”

T shifted beside her—impatient. “Spill it, Dupree!”

“They all rode the carousel within a few days of their disappearance.”

“Shit!” Cap’s curse echoed in the large conference room.

“Fuck me!” added T, in more of a growl than a shout.

“What’s the carousel?”

There was a long silence as the men looked at each other.

“It’s a piece of equipment unique to Decadence LA.” Eric’s tone and his reluctance to give other than that vague explanation was disturbing.

“You don’t have to do it, Angie,” Cap affirmed.

“But if the others did it...” She glanced at T, whose face was tight, a muscle jumping steadily in his jaw. “T?”

When he didn’t answer, she looked at Eric, who was just as tense. Getting a really bad feeling, she asked, “How bad can it be?”

“This is fucked up!” T barked unexpectedly. “We need to come up with a different plan. I’m not thrilled about a newbie going in and posing as bait for this whack job, but this is asking too much.”

She gazed at him, warmed by the concern in his face, although still in the dark about what had these three experienced dominants so upset.

“If this is the best way to catch him and put him away for good, I’ve got to do it. I couldn’t live with myself if I let another woman be taken or one of those subs ends up hurt, or worse, dead because I was skittish over a spanking or some nudity.”

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