The Effing List - Cherise Sinclair Page 0,122

it down.”

When he drew her against his hard body, she sighed and started to shake. His hold tightened. “I’ve got you, lass. I’ll always have you.”

It was exactly what she’d needed to hear. To feel. His deep voice, his strength. Her refuge.

He rubbed his chin on the top of her head. “I must say, you did very well.”

With a half snort, she rested her cheek on his shoulder. She really had done okay. And he’d helped her to do even better.

The Colonel would never hold her back from being the best she could be—or fail to be her support, like now.

Holding her tightly, he stroked her hair.

“I love you so much,” she whispered.

“Mmmph.” The acknowledgment was a rumbling sound deep in his chest. “I love you too.”

She lifted her head long enough to check the others. Every submissive was getting similar treatment.

From where she was sandwiched between her two Doms, Sally gazed at Valerie. “Thank you.”

“Josie helped. But I think you totally owe me.” Valerie smiled. “And in a few months, I’ll demand my reward—cuddle time with a baby.”

Galen’s grateful, dark eyes met hers.

Vance lifted his head. “All the cuddle time you want, Aunt Valerie.”

Sirens sounded from outside, and a few seconds later, two uniformed police officers burst through the door.

All the bad guys were already down.

Valerie called out, “Those four men had this young lady with them. I doubt the girl’s of age—she’s was trying to tell them no but is either intoxicated or drugged. He”—she pointed to Scott—“tried to drag her out of the bar against her will.”

The uniformed officer scowled at Scott, then nudged the other cop. “Isn’t he the asshole we’re on the lookout for around the schools?”

Valerie saw Ghost’s lips twitch before he bent and murmured, “Dan and Max put out a warning. In case he went for younger ones.”

Andrea, who still had an arm around the girl, gave her a shake. “Chica, how old are you?”

The girl blinked, obviously dazed. “Sixteen. I’m sixteen now.”

The officers’ expressions hardened.

As Ghost guided Valerie back away from the mess, she eyed Scott.

Lost his job, divorced. Now this. There were times when karma moved slower than a snail…but not this time.

Chapter Twenty-Six

What a shitty life, Barry thought as he walked into his house. His crew had bitched all fucking day about having to work on the weekend. Like it was Barry’s fault they were so far behind on the kitchen remodel?

Total bullshit. The counters had been late. Not much a contractor could do about that. Yeah, so maybe when Valerie did the scheduling with her fancy project software, there hadn’t been so many foul-ups. So maybe he should’ve ordered the countertops sooner. And had the plumber timed better.

Paperwork and organizing crap weren’t his thing. He worked with his hands, for fuck’s sake.

He reached the middle of the living room and realized no one had greeted him at the door. Used to be Kahlua and Alisha would be naked and waiting for him to walk in.

When had they stopped?

The house was silent enough to hear the crunch as he walked over spilled potato chips. Jesus, the place was a mess.

Kahlua was probably out partying with her friends. He’d told her not to, that slaves stayed home, but she didn’t always obey.

Alisha, though, didn’t like going out. She’d even refused to join the Shadowlands when he and Kahlua had. She’d rather stay home.

No supper made. Fuck. He opened the fridge. Empty, aside from his beer. Fucking great.

Without Valerie, the fridge was empty a lot—and now, he’d have to listen to his slaves battle over who would go shopping. He popped the top on a beer and took it with him to the bedroom.

Opening the closet door, he tossed his shirt in the laundry hamper, then spotted a gap in the clothing hung on the rod. His stuff was there. So was Kahlua’s.

Nothing of Alisha’s remained.

He crossed the room.

Alisha’s designated drawers were empty. He turned in a circle in the room before the realization sank in.

The fucking bitch had left him. Without even talking.

Yesterday, he’d told her she needed to increase her hours as a janitor. After all, she was only working twelve hours a week and then keeping the money for herself. That was bullshit.

When he said Valerie’s paychecks had gone into the shared bank account, she mouthed off and said Valerie wasn’t here.

He probably shouldn’t have hit her. But, hell, she’d gone and rubbed his face in it that his wife had left him.

Stewing, he drank his beer, feeling his

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