Page 28 of A Dead Man’s Pulse (Trident Security Omega Team #1)

Chapter Fifteen

“ M ake the next right,” Georgia Branneth instructed from the passenger seat of Tiny’s SUV, thankful the big teddy bear of a man was driving her home.

From what he and Master Devon had been able to determine, the alternator had gone out in her Toyota.

She’d been unable to start it when attempting to leave The Covenant tonight.

The club owner had assured her he’d have the Trident Security mechanics fix it for her tomorrow, while Tiny volunteered to drive her home.

She’d texted her friend as soon as it became apparent she’d need a ride to the high school, where Georgia taught English and Janet was the vice principal, so she’d see it first thing in the morning.

She loved how the Doms at The Covenant were so protective of the subs, even outside of the club walls.

Especially with that sick serial killer running around targeting submissives.

Even though Tiny didn’t participate in the lifestyle, he was just as protective as the Doms, if not more so, of the female members.

Standing six foot eight, the man was the size of a refrigerator, and anyone would have to be insane to mess with him.

She also knew he sometimes worked as a bodyguard when the Trident bosses needed him to, and he’d been armed at all times since they’d learned about the killer’s choice of victim.

A yawn escaped her as she pointed out her small house to her escort who chuckled. “Tired?”

“Well, it is after midnight, and I’ve been up since six a.m. The only reason I went to the club tonight was for Colleen’s birthday.

” Trident’s office manager had become a good friend of Georgia’s over the past year or so, having come out of her shell since working for the Sexy Six-Pack, as Devon’s wife, Kristen, had dubbed the original men who’d started the business.

Pulling into her driveway, Tiny smiled. “I’m sure she was happy you could celebrate with her.” He put the vehicle in park and added, “Stay there, Miss Georgia. Let me take a quick walk around the house to make sure everything looks good.”

Georgia knew better than to object, and if she were honest with herself, she appreciated the gesture.

Once he exited the SUV, he closed the door and locked her inside.

He then turned on the flashlight he’d grabbed from under the driver’s seat.

It was one of those heavy-duty Maglites that could fracture someone’s skull if swung hard enough.

Her brother, Greg, who was a police officer in Miami, had given her two of them.

One was in the house, and the other was in her Camry.

As Tiny rounded the side of her house, Georgia’s gaze followed the glow of the flashlight until it disappeared.

The silence surrounding the vehicle made her shift uncomfortably.

Tipping her head forward, she checked the side-view mirror.

Not seeing anything of concern, she then glanced over her shoulder, scanning the area directly behind the truck.

Normally, she wasn’t a scaredy-cat, but for some reason, tonight, she was on edge.

When she spotted the beam from Tiny’s flashlight bobbing from the far side of the house, she released a tense breath she’d been holding.

Finishing his inspection of her property, the big man strode to the passenger side of the truck and opened her door for her. “Everything looks okay. I’ll walk you to your door.”

Holding out his hand, he helped her down from the elevated height.

At five foot four, she was dwarfed by both the man and his vehicle.

She dug into her purse, and by the time they reached the front door, she had her keys out and ready.

Unlocking the door, she swung it open and turned to thank her escort to find him frowning. “You didn’t set the alarm?”

Shit . Of course he’d notice that. She usually set it, but some days, she was in such a hurry or in a mental fog, she forgot.

Her brother would kick her ass if he knew, since he’d insisted on having it installed in the first place.

“I must have forgotten. I promise it won’t happen again. Thanks, Tiny. I appreciate the ride.”

Bending down, he gave her a brotherly peck on the cheek. “Glad I could help. Now, lock the door and set the alarm, so I know you’re safe.”

“Yes, Master Travis.”

He grinned at the snarked title he never used. “Brat. Get going.”

Once she’d done as she’d been told, she waved at him through the door-side window, and then watched as he returned to his truck and drove away.

Sighing, she kicked off her shoes and left them and her purse next to the hallway table.

Yawning again, she stretched on her way to her bedroom.

Tomorrow, or today as it was, would be a long day, and she’d be looking forward to a nap as soon as she got home from work.

Thankfully, the gymnastics team’s season, which she was the coach for, didn’t start up for another week.

Flipping the foyer light switch off and the hallway one on with a flick of her hand, she headed for the bathroom.

The small, two-bedroom ranch was the perfect size for a single woman.

The neighborhood was nice and quiet, and she had a decent-sized plot of land.

She’d spent many a weekend cultivating the landscape by herself, planting flowers and shrubs to give herself a small Eden in Florida.

Flushing the toilet, she washed and dried her hands, then used a makeup remover wipe to clean her face. She shut off the light, making her way to her bedroom. Her hand reached for the switch that would turn on the beside lamp, but when she flipped the switch nothing happened. Damn it.

It seemed, lately, all her light bulbs were reaching the end of their lives, and she’d used the last spare one yesterday for the lamp in the second bedroom she used as an office.

For now, there was just enough moonlight coming through the edges of her closed curtains for her to see.

Mentally putting light bulbs on a shopping list for tomorrow, she reached down for the hem of her shirt.

But she never had a chance to remove it as an arm wrapped around her waist at the same time a damp cloth was slapped over her mouth and nose.

Panic coursed through her as she struggled and fought against her much bigger assailant. She tried to hold her breath while she kicked and clawed at him, only finding fabric everywhere she scratched. Twisting in his arms, she caught sight of his face out the corner of her eye.

What? Him?

He was a Dom she knew but had never played with.

Why is he doing this? What does he want? I have to get away!

Georgia continued to struggle as seconds ticked into minutes. Her mind blurred as her movements weakened. As she collapsed into darkness, her last thought was her brother was going to kill her if she died.

The Dom let Georgia drop to the floor. For a small thing, she sure was feisty—just how he liked them. When she woke up in his dungeon later, he was looking forward to her spirit putting up a fight.

Tucking the rag doused with an isoflurane derivative—chloroform didn’t work like in the movies—into his pocket, he then pulled out a tourniquet and a syringe filled with a combination of barbiturates commonly used for anesthesia.

He’d gotten very good at estimating his victim’s weight so he wouldn’t give them an overdose.

Quickly wrapping the tourniquet around her left bicep, he found a large vein and injected the drugs into her system.

That would keep her out long enough for him to carry her out the back door and lock it behind them, then leave her in the shadows at the side of the house while he retrieved his vehicle from where he’d parked it three blocks away in a used car lot.

The trip to his dungeon would be about fifty minutes at this hour of the night, with traffic at a bare minimum.

After he chained her to the bed there, he’d return home and get some sleep.

The fun wouldn’t begin until she’d woken up from the drugs and had a few hours to panic over her predicament.

Stepping over to the bedside lamp, he screwed the light bulb back in place until it lit the room.

The Dom glanced around to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything out of place and there were no signs he’d ever been in the house.

Turning the lamp back off, he bent down and picked up the petite woman.

Luck had been on his side tonight. Since the police and Doms had been stepping up their game, making sure the submissives in the area knew to take precautions and being escorted whenever possible, he’d needed to step up his game too.

The internet was the greatest invention ever for research.

For the past few weeks, he’d been practicing picking locks with a set of tools he’d found online.

There were countless instructional videos on YouTube, and while he was still practicing harder locks, he’d been able to pick the one on Georgia’s back door within five minutes.

He’d been watching her for about three weeks now, and saw she was sometimes lax with setting the alarm system in her house.

From a side kitchen window, he’d been able to see the alarm panel near the back door had been dark.

Being careful not to leave any scratch marks on the brass, deadbolt lock, he’d gained entry about a half hour before she got home.

He hadn’t expected Daultry to drive her home and walk around the house with a flashlight, but the asshole hadn’t come inside with the sub.

If he had, the Dom would have shot him with the 9mm handgun he had holstered at his lower back.

The big oaf was lucky he sucked at being a bodyguard—it’d saved his life.