Mastered by Malone (Haven, Texas 6)

“Come on, Alec. It’s just a little fun,” Tanner moaned.

“It’s a little fun that will land you in jail, and I’m not bailing you out next time!”

Christ, they’d all be the death of him

“I bet Mia would bail us out,” Tanner said slyly. “She came to Jaret’s rescue.”

“Jaret is out on his ass if he does anything like that again. And Mia will be too.” It was an empty threat. But he couldn’t take it back.

“If she goes, we all go!” Tanner told him.

“At least we’re not stupid enough to bite the hand that feeds us,” Beau added.

“I miss her pancakes already,” Butch mourned. “I’m starving here, a man can’t survive on oatmeal.” He glared at Alec before turning to leave.

As soon as the door slammed shut behind them, Alec turned and threw his pen against the wall. God damn it.

12

Enough was enough.

Things had gotten out of hand the other day in his office. He probably shouldn’t have said the things he’d said. She wasn’t his submissive. And these feelings of attraction between them, well, they’d disappear in time. He just needed to remember all the reasons she wasn’t for him.

But this sulking in her room was going to stop. He’d given her all yesterday, but now his brothers were about to riot on him.

He got to her door and turned the handle. Locked. Oh, hell no. She didn’t get to lock him out. This was his house.

He banged on the door. “Open this door! Right now.”

He expected the door to open immediately. Boy, was he surprised.

“Open the door, Calamity Jane.”

Still nothing. Worry started to eat away at him. He was certain she was in there. Nobody had seen her leave. Why wasn’t she answering the door? He banged louder. Still nothing.

The door lock was one of those flimsy ones where you pressed a button on the handle. He coul

d put his shoulder to it and crash it open. Or go get a pin, press it in the small hole on the door handle on his side and unlock it.

He didn’t want to take the time to get the pin.

“If you’re on the other side of the door, baby. Move back.”

He took a couple of steps back and then thrust his shoulder against the door. The door pinged open. When he walked in, he was surprised to see her sitting on the bed. She looked up at him. Her face was calm.

“Why didn’t you open the fucking door?” he asked in a harder voice than he’d meant to use.

“I was still thinking,” she replied. There was no hint of emotion on her face. His worry increased. What was wrong with her?

“Thinking? That’s the best excuse you can come up with? You were thinking?” He loomed over her, his hands on his hips.

“Yes.”

“Yes? Yes? That’s all you have to say?”

“I think you’re right.”

He sat down on the bed. He hated to admit it, but he still felt a little shaky. When she hadn’t come to the door, there are been a part of him that had been worried she might have done something stupid. She was suffering from PTSD. How had he forgotten that? How could he have let her have so much time alone? The fact that he was attracted to her and didn’t want to be was no excuse for not taking proper care of her.