Vegas Moon by R. M. Sotera

you want again, isn’t it?”
    It only took a second for Jordan to shove Mia back the few steps into Tristan’s grasp, step forward, and grab Kathy’s wrist.
    As soon as Tristan had hold of Mia, he barricaded her behind him and Cindi. Without succeeding, he’d tried to make Cindi step behind him so he could block both women. Cindi stood her ground next to her man. She wasn’t about to behave like the weaker sex. She had a black belt in karate and kicked some ass in her time, so although Tristan’s gesture was sweet and all that stuff, she wasn’t about to play the damsel in distress.
    It wasn’t her style. And never would be.
    Kathy’s gaze didn’t leave Jordan’s. As a matter of fact, her gaze sent shards of uneasiness through Cindi’s veins. The damned woman was gazing at him with a strange gleam in her eyes. Fuck if it wasn’t a longing gaze, like he was some kind of god or something. The two of them stood there in that state for what felt like several minutes. It wasn’t until Cindi looked behind her did her heart sink, and her hands want to beat the shit out of Jordan.
    It took every ounce of restraint in her to hold her fist as bay. She’d let her anger go on Jordan once, back when he’d appeared at the Stiletto Party where he’d won Mia back after their fake divorce.
    The intensity of the hurt in Mia’s face pounded at her heart and gave her no choice but to look away. When she looked back at Jordan, he had the gun in his hand and Kathy kneeled on the floor beside him, her gaze glued to knees and her head bowed.
    “You’ve disappointed me with your actions here today, Kathy.” Jordan stroked the back of Kathy’s hair and wrapped his hand in her hair until he had enough of hair to pull back her head and hold her in place.
    “I’m sorry.” Her voice hitched, as if tears would spill any second.
    “You’re sorry, what?” Jordan demanded. Still grasping her by the back of the head, he pulled back once until her gaze met his and held her place.
    In a tearful whisper she replied, “I’m sorry, my blood Master, sir.”
    From behind Cindi and Tristan, Mia blew out a breath. The breath whooshed out of her as if she’d been sucker punched. Cindi turned and pulled her best friend into her arms, cheek against cheek.
    And then the reality of what Jordan was doing, the game he played, dawned brightly against the confusion of the moment and she gave Mia a tight squeeze. “It’s not what you think, sweetie. He’s doing what he must to control her. It’s the only card he has to play. I know it hurts you to see this, but she was going to hurt you badly.”
    Mia swallowed back her tears but said nothing. The hollow look in her eyes was enough to almost bring Cindi to tears. She had to make her best bud in the world understand that her husband had no choice but to channel his blood-play Master tendencies. It was the only way to control this situation since the cops had yet to arrive.
    Speaking of cops, where the hell where they?
    “Tristan,” Jordan called, his eyes still glued to Kathy’s. “I need you to do two things for me. Call the police and get me four zip ties.
    “I’m on it,” Tristan assured him and left the room.
    “Cindi, take my wife upstairs.”
    Cindi started across the room with Mia. Mia halted. “I want to stay here, with you.” The words were meant for her husband, but he didn’t glance at her, only replied, “You need to go upstairs. Now.”
    Mia opened her mouth to say something, her annoyance surrounding her like a bright light, but closed it when Cindi gave her the “not now, sister” look.
    Cindi nudged her, and they headed toward the doorway. “You will have plenty of time to discuss this with Jordan later. Right now, let’s get the hell out of dodge while Tristan and Jordan keep her controlled until the police get here.
    And with that, Cindi led her best friend from the living room and out the front door onto the porch where they would wait for the authorities to