Page 75 of What About Love

Her heart lurched, still feeling his arms around her, his lips voracious against her own, and his body... She tugged on her ear before realizing she’d done it. When that didn’t help, she cleared her mind, or at least she tried to, as she caught Val’s perceptive gaze. Damn mind reader.

Val murmured something to Eric and soon they both wore identical, concerned expressions.

“Anything you two want to share?” the master dom intoned with a penetrating stare. Both she and T remained silent, not saying a word about the emotionally charge scene in the service hall. The minutes crept by until it was time to go.

“Are you ready for this, Angie?” Eric asked in a hushed voice despite the noise in the lounge.

“No,” she admitted honestly. “At any rate, I want this done.”

One hand rose and brushed back her hair, surreptitiously checking to make sure her earring was still there. To avoid appearing obvious, she resisted checking the other, but her gaze dropped to her foot and her toe ring, barely visible in the ruby peep-toed pumps the attendant had brought her with the rest of her clothes.

With a nod, more to embolden herself than anything, she stood.

T grabbed her hand. In reflex, she looked down and directly into his upturned face.

“You won’t be out of our reach. Not for a second.”

She offered him a small smile, which had to look forced, because she didn’t feel it and wondered if she ever would again. Tugging gently, she pulled free and, with a last glance at Val and Eric, headed toward the doors that led to the lobby and the front entrance.

At the reception desk, she checked out and waited the requisite ten minutes for the team to get into position. As cover, she reapplied her lipstick then rummaged through her purse as if searching for her keys. She’d actually never seen the red clutch before. It, along with an unfamiliar keyless entry remote to a strange car in the parking lot, had been provided as props for tonight’s mission.

When her time was up, she swallowed down a wave of nausea and exited the club into the warm LA night. As per the script, she turned right at the bottom of the steps and walked to the small side lot. The little red Honda was parked exactly where they said it would be.

Footsteps fell in behind her, echoing more solidly in the arid night than the click of her stiletto heels on the asphalt. Shakily, she beeped the locks and watched the lights flash. Within a few steps of the car, a shadow appeared alongside her own. Trying to keep from losing what little she had to eat that day, she whirled, as anyone would.

It was a woman. Tall, at least six feet, and muscular, not ripped like T or Eric, but defined as if she worked out with weights. She was also slender, which was evident from the body-hugging leather of her catsuit. Unsure of this odd turn of events and how the killer would react if he was watching, Angie knew she had to get rid of her quickly. She didn’t need this stranger scaring Stapleton off.

Laying it on thick, her hand flew to her chest as if trying to slow her rapidly beating heart—which was true. “You startled me.” When the woman didn’t speak, she added, “May I help you with something, mistress?”

She didn’t react negatively, so her assumption that she was a domme was correct.

“I saw you on the carousel tonight. You were the finest piece of ass up there.”

“Um, thank you, uh, ma’am.”

“You’re Angie, aren’t you?”

She took a step closer, invading her space. When she did so, a shaft of light from the nearby streetlight fell across her face. Her eyes appeared black, her face drawn and haggard, and her mouth twitched. She appeared wired, as if strung out on something.

Angie took a step back. The scary domme followed apace. When she retreated again, her backside came up against the car.

The woman’s hand came up and with her index finger, she traced down Angie’s arm, making her tremble.

“You’re new to LA.” It wasn’t framed as a question.

Although tweaked by her bold approach and odd behavior, Angie was more concerned that she knew her name. She didn’t freak out yet, remembering they had plastered it on the carousel board for all to see. That she was new to the club also wasn’t a secret.

Still, the woman creeped her out. And she was standing way too close. She shook off her respectful, submissive air and stated point-blank, “It’s late and I need to be on my way. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yeah, slut,” she snarled with a grating laugh as her hand came up and pressed a pungent smelling cloth hard over Angie’s nose and mouth. It took her breath away.

Struggling fiercely, she turned her head, using both hands to push at the hand covering her face, but the domme was surprisingly strong. When her other arm came across her throat, pinning her against her car, she got woozy.

“You can help by going for a ride to meet my friend Dick.”

The last lucid thought in her head was,Oh shit! I know a Dick. Dastardly Dick Henson to be precise.

Then her world tilted sideways and went from gray to black as she faded into unconsciousness.

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