"He's abusing you."
"No." She shook her head. "I'm bad. I'm really bad. He has to punish me and make me do these things to remind me how bad I am."
"No, he . . ."
"What's taking so long?"
Alice's spirit must have been influencing the music selection, because it was the first time Madison had heard "Ride of the Valkyries" fill the store when the door opened. It took over for the poignant "Somewhere in Time" Veronica's arrival had set off.
This had to be Veronica's Master. Wearing khakis and golf shirt, he was tall and husky, with the cocky look the football coach at her high school had possessed. Not always a bad trait in that profession, but arrogance could pave the road to indifferent cruelty. He was about twenty years older than Veronica. At his pointed tone, the girl cringed and tried to scurry toward him, but Madison snagged her arm, taking a firmer hold this time while trying not to aggravate the bruises beneath her grip.
"We were discussing what you wanted her to buy," she said through gritted teeth.
"Sorry," he said. He'd registered her tone, his own saying he wasn't sorry at all. He gave her an easy, feral smile. "It's just a game we're playing. I thought this kind of store, you'd be used to it."
"Role playing and fantasies are part of what this store is about, yes," Madison said evenly. "Not abuse and malnourishment."
His eyes narrowed. "You better get your hand off my slave."
"You better join the current century and realize she doesn't belong to anyone but herself."
Veronica was shaking. Madison tucked her further behind her. "Get the hell out of my store, before I call the cops."
"She'll be home by supper time."
"That will be her choice. You won't be around to help her make it."
"Sanctimonious bitch. I don't have any problems teaching you both a lesson. You're all by yourself in here." He took a step into the store and Madison took a step back, already thinking about the .38 Alice kept under the counter. Unfortunately, he took it as a fearful retreat, not a calculated one. Light kindled in his eyes.
"How about we teach you a lesson instead?"
She bit back a sigh of relief, glancing over her shoulder to see Logan step out from behind her storeroom curtain, Troy on his heels. The two of them shifted apart, shoulder to shoulder, and she saw nothing submissive about Troy now. His eyes were cool flint. A direct contrast to Logan's, which held hellfire.
"You heard her," he said, taking another step forward. "Get out of her store. Now. And don't come back."
Logan's expression left no doubt what would happen if he didn't listen. Madison remembered how dangerous he'd appeared when making erotic threats to Troy, but the difference between sensual intimidation and genuine menace was dangerously clear. Clear enough to penetrate the thick head of the man in the doorway. With a sneer, he turned and left, giving the door a kick that could have broken the glass, if he hadn't missed and hit the frame.
"I really should go with him," the girl quavered. "He's my Master."
"No, he's not." Logan's tone was everything a Master's should be. Authoritative, assured, decisive. Protective. It drew Veronica's attention to him like a magnet. Madison's, too, for that matter. She wanted to kiss him, right then and there.
"He doesn't know the first thing about being a Dom. We're going to get you a meal, take you to a place that will help you figure things out. If you still want to go to him after that, one of us will take you. But you'll give it twenty-four hours. Understand?"
The question was obviously rhetorical. Logan could dial up that Dominant attitude full force, and it had the desired effect on Veronica, underscored by her next stammered words.
"Y-yes sir."
His jaw eased, but not the fury in his gaze. Still, he touched the girl gently, guiding her to Troy, who exercised his usual calming presence to shepherd her behind the curtain and into their adjoining storeroom. When Logan turned his attention to Madison, she realized she was shaking herself, but it wasn't fear. His touch, hands closing on her upper arms, helped calm her.
"You all right?"
"I'd be better if I could blow up his Lincoln Continental with him in it. You don't have any explosives in your store, do you?"
The spirited response eased some of the fire in his visage. Realizing some of that had been on her behalf, a territorial male's desire to protect her, gave her a flutter.
"It's never supposed to be like that," he said, turning his attention to the street, where the Continental was leaving its parking place, the tires squealing as the owner vented his frustration on his exit. "You do know that, don't you, Madison?"
He wasn't looking at her, but she sensed how significant the question was to him, how vital her answer. When his gaze shifted to her, what she saw there confirmed it.