“I’ve only touched upon a few aspects of BDSM. Has your curiosity been appeased, or are you still wanting to explore the lifestyle further?”
How he could calm the flustered state he was responsible for putting her in with his cool, detached voice was beyond her, but the tenseness of the past hour eased from her body as they strolled up the street. She wondered what it would be like to have that much control over her emotions. “I’m willing to… go a little further—with you,” she tacked on, just to be clear. As of right now, she couldn’t picture herself taking up with anyone else to finish driving out these unconventional urges that had plagued her for far too long.
“Then, if you can get clear of work Sunday afternoon, I’ll pick you up around 5:00 and we’ll go for a short cruise on our yacht which I’m sure the girls have mentioned.”
They reached her block, and the alley running between the shelter and the building next to it where she’d had to cover up the spray-painted graffiti. Hope started to accept his offer when a strident female cry, followed by Bobby’s voice, echoed from the far end of the alley.
“Hey! Stop!”
Miles swore with colorful profusion as he propelled her along with him toward the lot in the back. They both saw a tall, thin young man from behind, wearing a hoodie and hightailing it down another back alley as they reached the rear of the buildings. Bobby was helping Martha to her feet by the dumpsters and Hope dashed over with a cry of alarm.
“What happened? Martha, are you all right?” She got on the older woman’s other side and helped steady her as she rose from the ground.
“Damn kid came out of nowhere, poking around back here, then shoved her down before taking off,” Bobby snarled, anger swirling in his eyes as he wrapped an arm around Martha’s shoulders.
“I’m fine, you two. More surprised than hurt, and ticked off. I should’ve dumped him in the dumpster instead of the trash,” Martha said before her eyes landed on Miles, who jogged over to them after chasing after the culprit. “Oh, my. I hope you didn’t catch him, there’d be nothing left.” She grinned despite the shaken look still lingering on her face.
“I didn’t. Can you describe him?” Miles struggled to rein in his anger. The punk looked suspiciously like Mateo from the back and he should’ve known he’d been too quiet after Miles had threatened him. Hope appeared more concerned and angry than afraid, which he found himself grateful for. He wasn’t sure he could handle seeing fear reflected in those blue eyes, not after watching them glow with the pleasure he’d introduced her to.
“No, sorry. He pushed me from behind. Bobby here heard me and came running out right before you got here.”
“I’ve told you, and you,” Bobby pinned Hope with a glare, “not to come out here without me, especially after the shelter doors have been locked for the night.”
“Glad to hear I’m not the only voice of reason around here,” Miles drawled, relieved the women had someone so caring looking out for their welfare.
“Come on, Martha. Why don’t you let me drive you home…”
Miles raised his hand as they walked inside. “I’ll take her. By the time you return, it’ll be dark.”
“Absolutely not but thank you both for offering. I’m fine and I’m leaving now.” Martha hugged Hope then squeezed Bobby’s arm. “Thank you. See you tomorrow.”
“Take the day off,” Hope insisted as she unlocked the front door so Martha could reach her car out front.
“No, now good-night.”
Miles waited until Bobby went into the shelter’s main living space before asking Hope, “Sunday?”
“Yes, I could use an afternoon of sun. It’s been a long week.”
“Did it start with the covered-up graffiti I noticed in the alley?” It irritated him she hadn’t mentioned it, and the fact that it irritated him was also annoying.
She waved a hand, indicating the vandalism was no big deal. “That crap happens all the time, I’m used to it, but yes, it is annoying and why I was late.”
“You should’ve come to me when I first gave you my card. I’ll see you Sunday.” He waited until she re-locked the door behind him before wasting no time returning to the gym, asking Ed to close up then getting on his bike to go cruising for Mateo. Some things, such as the steady increase of his emotions toward Hope, were beyond his control. Others, such as tracking down a punk-ass gang member and putting the fear of God—or of himself—into him, weren’t.
Within fifteen minutes of cruising the hotspots of gang-related, late-night activity, Miles spotted Mateo and another boy attempting to jimmy a lock on the back door of an electronics store. Miles knew the elderly store owner lived in the small apartment upstairs, where he could see a light still shining, and his residual anger escalated again. Parking around the corner, he took note of the brass knuckles on the one kid’s hand and the crow bar Mateo was now using on the back door.
Mateo’s accomplice caught sight of him first and didn’t hesitate to attempt to neutralize the threat his sudden appearance made. The brass knuckles glinted in the light spilling from above the door as the kid took a swing at Miles. With a quick turn of his head, his assailant’s arm went wide, throwing him off balance. A fast kick to the back of his knees took him to the ground with a pain-filled cry just as Mateo swung his crowbar at Miles’ head. With a growl of frustration, he took the downward swing of the metal bar on his forearm but didn’t let the instant pain slow him down from executing a spin and slamming an elbow with maximum force against Mateo’s sternum. Going to his knees, the crowbar clanged against the concrete as Mateo released it on a gasp and clutched his chest.
“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Miles warned the other punk who was rising with a knife in his white-knuckled grip.
“You’re not me, asshole,” he sneered, and Miles could tell by the kid’s inflated ego and dilated eyes he was high on something.
As the kid raised his arm, Miles swore under his breath and couldn’t afford to balk at delivering a vicious chopped blow to his wrist. The knife joined the crowbar on the ground as the teen grabbed his wrist and took off like a bolt of lightning.
Shaking his head at the youth’s stupidity, he turned his full attention back on Mateo, who was still trying to catch his breath and glaring daggers at him as he stumbled to his feet. “You didn’t heed my advice, did you, Mateo?” Satisfaction rolled through Miles at the way Mateo quickly averted his gaze.
“I want my brother,” he groused, as if that had anything to do with his attempted break-in.
“Let’s chat.” With a quick spin, Miles pinned Mateo against the door he’d been vandalizing and pressed his chest against the exact spot where his kick had taken the wind out of him. He couldn’t suppress a humorless chuckle when Mateo’s curses were drowned out by the return of his wheezing. “That was a love tap compared to what I want to do to you, and what I will do the next time you go anywhere near Hope’s Crossing.”
“What… what the… fuck are you… talking about?” Mateo demanded with gasping breaths. His pitiful attempts to get loose of Miles’ grip on his shoulders proved how much the drugs he showed signs of indulging in had weakened more than just his brain cells.
“The homeless shelter, thirty minutes ago. You don’t remember knocking down a woman by the dumpster? Your brain must be more drug-addled than I thought,” Miles scorned, deliberately taunting the teen.
“I know where the shelter is and ain’t been near that place. I’ve been with… some other guys all night, so back the fuck off… what’re you doing?”
His face reddened in outrage when Miles pulled out his cell and punched in Jake’s number. “I caught you attempting a break-in red-handed and assaulting a woman, what do you think I’m doing?”
“I didn’t rough up no old lady. Can you prove I did? Besides, I’ll tell the cops you assaulted me.” He rubbed his sternum and winced. “I’ll probably have bruises to prove it.”
“No, you won’t. I’m not an amateur like you.” Jake answered on the fou