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Merrick grimaced at the imagery.

“The statute of limitations for statutory rape in Nevada is twenty years. I’m betting you’re not thirty-five yet.”

“Thirty-one.”

“You have time to find justice for what he did to you,” Fordham stated matter-of-factly, keeping his eyes on her face even when she lowered her gaze to her hands. “Grit can delay kicking the asshole out for a day while things get set in motion. Go to the cops, make a statement. Get the ball rolling. Not only will it be closure for you, I’m sure there are other women—at least another six—who want to see him pay for taking advantage of them at an age where they were vulnerable to predators like him.”

“I’m one woman, Fordham. Who’s to say they’ll even believe me over him?”

“Any cop deserving of their badge will take you seriously. Once an investigation starts, it won’t matter how charming he is, there will be evidence to support your claim. Not just that, more will come, Linnie. It takes one crack in the wall to break the dam; you can be that crack and bring him down.”

“He doesn’t even recognize me,” she mumbled.

“The fucker won’t see it coming then, will he? He started off as a monster preying on young girls,” Ford continued with determined reason. “He’s older now, obviously heavily involved with BDSM if he’s paying membership fees as hefty as Serenity’s for the privilege of playing here. Tastes change, Linnie, and they evolve.”

All three women shuddered in unison at the unspoken implication.

“I’ll go with you to the police,” Ericka said without hesitation.

“Me too, if you need me.” This from Violet.

When Linnie broke down again and the Mistresses wrapped her up in a supportive embrace, Merrick exchanged a glance with Fordham and Elias. This was his cue to leave; Linnie needed time to process everything and make a difficult, incredibly personal decision that was going to affect her future.

Besides, he had a sub waiting for him downstairs who was probably imagining him being stabbed with a needle or strangled by a crazed doctor. After all the shouting and him slamming the door in her face, Tamsyn would never go near another doctor again.

Problematic, considering that cast needed to come off.

As he headed for the door, he paused when Linnie said his name in a choked voice.

Looking at her over his shoulder, he waited expectantly.

“I’m sorry, again. But… thank you.” Some of the torment on her face was easing, quietly stroked away by comforting, familiar hands. “Tamsyn… she’s lucky to have you, even if you break her heart. You’re not an asshole. Not even a little bit.”

Merrick lifted an eyebrow, then allowed a smile to curve the lefthand side of his mouth. “Appreciate that, Doc. I’ll tell her to put that in her vows when I marry her next week.”

Watching a trio of mouths drop open in surprise was remarkably satisfying, but Violet’s exclamation was the frosting on a very sweet cake. “You’re gettingmarried?”

Tapping a finger on the side of his nose, he made a swift exit, chuckling as he closed the door behind him. The chuckle transformed into a robust laugh as he bounded down the stairs to the lower level and headed for the bar.

Damn straight, he was getting married.

*

Tamsyn

Her new friends were doing everything in their power to distract her from whatever carnage was happening upstairs, Tamsyn thought as she dragged her glass of juice around the tabletop just to keep her hands busy.

The bar was quiet, although she’d seen a lot of people disappearing into the restaurant across the hallway through the double glass doors.

Sierra’s husbands were doing chores behind the long, shiny wooden bar, and a third man was going around the room, making sure everything was exactly where it should be. Every so often, he tugged a cloth from under his belt and polished a table, or a light fixing, then returned it to his belt.

“Bet you can’t wait to get that clumsy thing off your wrist,” Anarchy said, tipping her own glass of juice toward Tamsyn’s cast. “I’ve never broken anything, but I’ve heard they itch like crazy once the bones start to heal. Our friend, Bodie, had a really bad accident and ended up with her legs in cast—her husband made a scratching stick from knitting needles and a comb so she could stay sane.”

“It’s frustrating,” Tamsyn admitted, keeping one eye on the door for Merrick. “I don’t really think about it as long as my brain’s occupied. When the thoughts stop, that’s when the itching starts.”

“Mmm-hmm. That silver fox keeps you really busy though, right?” Anarchy winked, her brown eyes gleaming with mischief. “I mean, I adore my husband. Love is a pretty tame word when it comes to what I feel for him, but if he gave me free rein for one night to have my wicked way with a fantasy guy, Merrick would be on my short list.”

Fingers skillfully sewing two pieces of fabric together, Sierra snorted. “Not advisable. Merrick is a nice man, but he’s… formidable. Both Liam and Mack are hung. Merrick’s on a whole other level.”