Page 220 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection
“No. I appreciate the offer, though.” He catches my shoulder and pulls me toward him until he can kiss my forehead. “Look, I may be a little preoccupied for the next couple of days, so let’s forget about the plug and other stuff until Friday. I’ll do my best to make it back for dinner. I’ll call you when I have a better idea.”
My stomach sinks. Something in me that might have been opening snaps shut. Then I give myself a firm mental shake. What’s important here is taking care of his kid.
“Yes, absolutely. I hope she’s okay. If there’s anything I can do, call me.”
“Thanks.” He kisses my forehead again before he releases me and I take that as a signal that I’m dismissed and can clear out.
I start to climb to my feet when Emily catches my hand.
“Master Mac needs to take out your plug,” she says quietly.
“I’ll do it myself. I’ve done it a million times.”
Mac stands and rests a hand on my shoulder. “Em’s right. I put it in. I should take it out. Rules of the plug.”
He tries for a smile, but it’s strained.
“Sir, go take care of your daughter,” I say gently. “The plug’s not important.”
“You sure? I really don’t like leaving like this, Bren.”
“I’m sure.” I smile, and it’s a much better attempt than his.
I must convince him, because after running his hand through his hair again, he turns away and heads into the kitchen, presumably to talk to Logan.
“Bren,” Emily says quietly. “You should have made him take out the plug. It is important. Things come up all the time. He doesn’t get to bounce out of here just because there’s a problem. He started something with you and he should see it through. You’re letting him be a crappy Dom.”
Am I? Probably, but I hate forcing people to make me a priority when I’m not to them. And I’m clearly not to Mac.
I lean over and kiss the top of her head. “I’m fine, Emmy. I can take care of myself.”
Always have. Always will.
I wait until I get back to my place before I take out the plug. I’m a little sore, but I’m used to some soreness there after a scene. Since I’ve still got plenty of time before I’m scheduled to be in the shop, I take a bath with some Epsom salts instead of ashower and by the time I’m out, I don’t even notice the soreness anymore. It would make me sad to lose that lingering reminder of Mac so quickly except that I don’t really want him to be on my mind when I’m not on his.
I pull on soft clothes—black yoga pants and a loose sweater—before I head down into the shop. My skin’s still stinging a little even after the soothing bath. I tell myself to take it easy today. It was a big scene. I’m definitely still feeling it in lots of spots. I don’t need to push myself today.
But when Fareena calls thirty minutes after she’s supposed to start to say that her childcare has let her down, I shuffle around her appointments until I’ve covered them all and do nine hours straight, only stopping to stretch out my stiff muscles a few times. By the time I lock up, I’m dragging myself from my station to the desk and back, but I’m much happier about the day’s receipts, even if I do put a third aside for Reena.
Checking the next day’s schedule, my mood takes a hit when I see the hour I set aside in the hopes that Mac might want to get started on his mermaid. I cancel the hold and open the hour. My mood sinks lower when I see Edz’s name at two p.m. I’m sure he’s coming in for more work on the huge back piece I’ve been filling in. But the reminder of another Dom who didn’t want more than a steady supply of scenes and sex from me makes my throat tight and my eyes prickle. I shake those feelings off. I’m proud of the ink I’ve laid on Edz over the years, and tomorrow’s an opportunity to work on what legitimately could be considered my life’s work since he was my very first victim. He doesn’t have to be a reminder of past failures and, if nothing else, Edz is still pretty tight with my old foster family, so I’ll be able to catch up on the gossip.
I shut down the office computer, check the new back-door lock, and stumble upstairs. Thinking about Edz reminds me that I haven’t seen or heard from Ruby in nearly a week. Ipull out my phone to message her, the girl I used to see every day, my best friend and soul sister and role model. A couple of missed messages pop up. I turned the sound off on my phone yesterday before the scene and I must have forgotten to turn it back on. There are two messages from repeat clients asking for appointments, a message from Emily, one from Theo, and one, and I could kick myself for how my heart leaps when I see it, from Mac.
But the message that makes me stop cold, my hand on my apartment door, is from Cappa, fellow house-submissive and almost-sweeter-than-Emily-sweetheart.
It says, “911,” and an address in Rose Hill.
The text is over an hour old. Instead of texting or calling Cappa back, I swipe open my phone and call Austin.
“Are you with Cappa?” I ask before he even says hello.
“Yeah, I’ve got him.”
“Thank the Benevolence.” I figured Cappa would call Austin if he couldn’t get through to me. “Is he hurt?”
“Yeah. They’re stitching him up. Probably another hour. Dana’s out of town overnight and I can’t take him back to ours while she’s away?—”
“No, bring him to mine. Or tell me where you are and I’ll meet you.”
