He looked exhausted. Pale. Hurting. Had he tried to get up to use the bathroom? Stubborn dom. “I think you need to push the button for your pain medication,” she said sternly.
He glanced at the IV, his expression odd. Then he looked at her. His gaze was intent, as if memorizing her face, lingering on the puffy bruise on her left cheek, the tender split in her lip. His mouth tightened. “I did not care for you very well, did I?”
“I’m alive. Not a slave. We took down a slave ring.” The expressionless look on his face sent warnings shooting through her in small unsettling flashes. “What’s wrong, Ma—Raoul?”
His muscles tensed, as if she’d hit him. He looked at her with a shadowed gaze. “Nothing is wrong. You have a visitor.”
“Who? More cops?”
“Not this time.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “They’re done with us—at least until they start the legal maneuvering.” He lifted his hand as if to touch her. “You can go home now.”
“I can?” He was sending her away. The realization felt like a blow, crueler than the Overseer’s fist into her ribs, solid enough to force her a step back.
He hesitated, and then asked slowly, “What do want to do, Kimberly?”
A surge of hope shivered through her body. He was giving her the choice. She wouldn’t have to leave him.
Only she wanted to go home. Didn’t she? No, I love him.
But was that enough? She wasn’t any blind romantic child. Love didn’t mean a person could live with someone or that the other person was trustworthy. Didn’t guarantee happiness. She knew she couldn’t stay—it wouldn’t work—yet the thought that he wouldn’t be there to hold her in the night, to greet her in the morning with heavy-lidded eyes as he rolled on top of her and pinned her hands over her head…
“I…” Her heart slowly split into two pieces.
His eyes closed, and his jaw tightened. “Your mother is here, sumis—Kimberly.”
“Mom?”
“Sí. She’s in the waiting room down the hall.”
Mom. Kim stared at Raoul, hearing his mother’s words. Thinking of her own. Her mother had loved her father in the beginning—she’d said so—and he’d loved her. But that hadn’t mattered. He’d ground her into the dirt with his demands. Made her a slave.
I don’t want to be that kind of a person. I’m not like my mother. Aside from sex, she’d never wanted to be subservient to a man. She’d only done it to trap the slavers, not to…to stay. I have a life. “I need to go home.”
The brown eyes watching her seemed to darken.
“Yes, I think you do,” he said, no doubt in his voice. Dominant. Master.
Her flare of anger was welcome. She stiffened her spine—look, I still have a spine— walked over to the bed, and held out her hand. “Thank you for…everything.” For the tenderness and firmness, for the understanding and the sex and the…love. She wanted to say more, but her throat closed, preventing words and tears.
His head bowed as he took her hand, kissed her fingers, and opened his hand. Releasing her. “Adios, gatita.”
The words echoed over and over as she walked away.
Chapter Seventeen
“Adios, gatita.” No more, Kim told herself. Stop hearing those damned words. Stop feeling abandoned.
When the hell would she be able to forget about slavers, horrors, and fear?
And love?
Damn Master R anyway. He should have pushed her more, done something—anything— so she could have walked farther than fifteen feet from the door. Fifteen feet wasn’t enough. Kim stood in the doorway of her duplex, staring out at her car. Parked at the curb, as always. So far, far away. Her hands fisted. I can do this, dammit.
Over the past week or so, she’d managed everything else. Her nightmares were helped by lights staying on—although nothing was as effective as a slow, dark voice and solid body pulling her into his safety. “Adios, gatita.” Drown him.
Work kept her busy, especially when she got out on the water. Her friends and coworkers had welcomed her back with joy. And worry over what to say, what to avoid. She missed the understanding of Gabi and the other Shadowlands subs.
But she was getting better, although every single day she ached inside from the loss of…
She shook her head. That’s in the past. This is now, and the task right now is to reach the car. She’d managed the first few days—and sat in the car shaking afterward—but her fear was getting worse every day.
She’d better find a place with a garage and an automatic door. Of course a garage wouldn’t rescue her in other locations, but at least she could leave her own house.
She sniffled a little, trying to steel her nerves. Steel, ha. Her nerves were pretty much frayed twine that snapped under tension, like a couple of nights ago. She’d stood in the door for twenty minutes, trying to go out for groceries. When she’d answered the phone and heard Gabi’s voice, that had done it. Hysteria city. Embarrassing as hell.
Time to try again. Kim made it three steps and froze at the sight of a van coming closer. It pulled up behind her car. Her skin chilled as she tried not to run into the house.
I hate vans. But it wasn’t black; it was a cheerful pale yellow with hand-painted dogs decorating the sides. Really, no self-respecting kidnapper would drive a vehicle like that. Right?
The woman driver jumped out and rather than approaching, she opened the back. Unable to master her fear, Kim retreated until she stood in the entrance, ready to slam the door shut.
The woman called something, and a dog jumped out. Brown with a darker muzzle, pointed ears upright. A big dog. A German shepherd?
Curiosity greater than nerves, Kim waited.
The short gray-haired woman walked up the sidewalk, carrying a thick envelope. “Well, you make it easy. Would you be Miss Kimberly Moore?”
Fears sliding away, Kim smiled. “I am.” Unable to resist, she knelt and held her hand out to the dog. “Aren’t you a pretty boy? Aren’t you sweet?”
With a low whine, he waited until the woman said, “It’s okay, Ari. This is your person.”
The dog gave a bark and lunged forward, tail wagging, taking all of Kim’s petting and responding with nuzzles and quick swipes of his tongue.
The older woman sighed. “He just won’t learn the no-licking rule.” She held out the envelope. “Let’s take a few minutes to go through this before I leave. Of course, you can always call if you have questions.”
Kim frowned. “Questions?” Was this some new religious technique? Use a dog to get the sinners to let you in the door? “About what?”
“About Ari—it’s short for Ariel, by the way, after the archangel.” She smiled at the dog’s whine. “I think your friend was correct. You two seem quite suited for each other.”
Friend. Suited. “I’m not following this. Are you saying you’re leaving the dog—Ari— here?”
“Well, yes.” The woman’s brows drew together. “He didn’t call you?”
“Who?”
“Oh my.” With a sound of exasperation, the woman held out her hand. “I’m Maggie Jenkins, and I train guard dogs for women. Only for women. A man named Raoul Sandoval called earlier and kept me on the phone for a good hour, making me describe every dog available. And then he bought Ari for you and asked me to deliver him today. He said you, especially, needed one trained to be an escort, a dog to either accompany you into stores or wait outside.”
“An escort?” Kim stared at Ari, seeing the large fangs, the strong body, the sheer threat of him. “He’ll go with me—everywhere? And wait outside if he can’t come in?”
“Absolutely. That’s his job.”
“But—for how long do I have him?” God, if she could only keep him a month, long enough to get past her fears.
“Child, the dog is yours. Mr. Sandoval didn’t hire him. He bought Ari outright, which is good.” Maggie smiled. “Ari isn’t happy being hired out. He wants his own person. In fact, I think you’ve bonded, and he’d already b
e unhappy to leave you.”
Kim realized the dog was completely in her arms, leaning against her until his top half sprawled over her legs. She gave a laugh, felt him licking the tears from her cheeks, and buried her face in the thick fur.
Three hundred miles away, and Master R still protected her. How could she not love him?
* * * *
Her mother’s kitchen hadn’t changed, Kim thought as she filled the dishwasher from the stacked plates on the counter. Such a cheerful room with white cupboards and ruffled curtains, dark blue countertops, and cows frolicking on the fridge and canisters. Grinning cows. That’s just wrong.
“So, this person—man—you were living with…” Kim’s mother plunged a pot into the dishwater.
“Raoul.” Saying his name still sent a shiver up her spine. Ari, who’d stationed himself nearby in case of appetizing accidents, whined slightly.
“Yes, that one. He seemed very nice.”
Startled, Kim glanced over. “Wait—you met him? When?”
“He came into the waiting room a little before you did. Said he wanted to meet me.”
“How did he get there? He wasn’t supposed to get out of bed.” Kim stared at a picture on the wall, her as a child, arm in a cast, face tight as she tried not to cry from the pain. The last time she saw Master R, he’d worn the same strained expression. He’d taken her hand in his, kissed her fingers, and now she realized the IV needle had been missing from the back of his hand.
“That idiot.” He’d walked down the hall to meet her mom. “God, no wonder he looked like he hurt.” She wanted to hit him for being so stupid. So damned macho.
“He wanted to make sure I’d take care of you. Asked me many questions.” He’d met her mom. “Really?”
Her mother laughed. “Yes. He was very worried about you.”
Kim smiled at her mother, who looked so much younger these days. They’d celebrated Kim’s return at a day spa, Kim with a manicure and pedicure, and her mother had her hair restored to a light brown. With highlights, no less. Who is this woman, and what have you done with my mom?
But she knew. Before the kidnapping, her mother had met a man. During the time Kim had been missing, he’d apparently been a rock of comfort. “Kind of like how Greg worries about you?”
Her mother flushed and glanced toward the living room where Greg and one of his younger colleagues were cheering a touchdown. “He does, doesn’t he? Kim, I’m so happy to have found him. To know that all men aren’t like your father. To be respected.”
“How can you tell? You’re still cooking. Cleaning. Working.” Kim frowned. “In fact, we’re in here washing dishes while they watch television. I’m not sure there’s any difference.”
“It’s…even now. Balanced. Inside the house is my area. Outside is his. Remember how he mowed the lawn and trimmed the bushes when you came, so we could girl-talk?”
“True.” Mom and Greg both worked and weren’t living together yet, although that was undoubtedly coming. “I’ve never seen the yard looking so nice.” Or the house in such repair. Nothing squeaked. No paint was scraped. Greg had laughed when she complimented him and said he enjoyed working outside after a day on the computer.
Her mother dried her hands on the towel. “But it’s not just the fairness, honey. It’s the way he…appreciates…anything I do. Who I am.” She sighed. “I wonder sometimes if I might have managed to leave your father if my sense of self-worth hadn’t been so ground down. When someone tells you that you’re worthless and stupid and ugly, eventually you start to believe it.”
“It’s another kind of abuse,” Kim said. How strange to see her mother as another female, subject to all the problems women had. And to be proud of how she’d grown and moved on.
“Yes, it is. And I’m sorry, baby, you had to see it. I worry that it gave you a warped view of marriage. Of loving.”
It had. Her mother’d been a slave as much as any woman with a collar around her neck. How strange that a housewife could have fewer rights than a submissive. And Mom had been much, much less cherished. “Maybe a little. I’m still working it out.”
No need to make Mom feel guiltier though. She bit her lip, thinking to change the subject, and the one topic she didn’t want to talk about—and couldn’t forget—slipped out. “So what did you think of Raoul?”
“How could I not like a man who would take a knife for my daughter?” Mom sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Or one who sent you home although anyone with a brain in her head would see that it tore him up to let you go.”
It did? As Kim’s aching for Master R intensified, Ari rose, pushing his muzzle into her hands. She kissed the top of his furry head. “I can’t be with him though. He wants to make all the decisions, to have me serve him—wants a slave.”
“You wouldn’t work outside the home?”
Kim remembered what he’d said about his former slaves. “I don’t think that’s a problem. It’s what would happen the rest of the time.”
“Well.” Her mother shook her head. “That’s odd to think about, and yet how is that different from being a housewife? A marriage is… Each person serves the other, and from what I saw of your Raoul, he would care for you as much as you cared for him. So perhaps it comes down to who makes the decisions. Do you want him to do that?”
Kim opened her mouth, prepared to say, Of course not.
But her mother held up her hand. “If you really knew the answer, you wouldn’t seem so unhappy. You’re not forging ahead to deal with your choice, because you haven’t made one.”
“I haven’t? I thought I had.”
Her mother shook her head. “You look lost, baby.”
“Yeah, well, that’s how I feel.”
“Think about it until you’re sure, then let it go. Whichever way you choose, I’ll support you.”
* * * *
After letting her inner cynic and inner coward battle it out, Kim had phoned Raoul. She’d thank him for Ari and then…talk. But his secretary picked up the call. Master R was overseeing a project in Costa Rica.
So much for that. As she put together a salad, she averted her gaze from the phone on the counter. No. Getting dependent on Gabi wasn’t a good idea either. But she missed her company. And that of the other Shadowlands subs as well.
Gabi had described Beth and Nolan’s outdoor wedding. Master Z had volunteered his gardens, so it must have been beautiful.
And Kari’d had her baby. I wish I’d been there for that. Gabi had snapped a shot with her cell, and Kim had cooed over the tiny, scrunched-up face. A baby boy with Master Dan’s dark hair in a fine fuzz. Why do I feel like my life should be there?
Kim carried her salad to the couch and turned on the television. Not much on, although face it, she mostly wanted the noise.
Ari stuck his head in her lap, sniffing the bowl to check out the prospects for tidbits. With a whine of disgust, he lay down at her feet. He loathed salads.
So did Master R.
Kim smiled, remembering the lecture she’d gotten: “If God wanted humans to eat vegetables, he wouldn’t have colored them green. Green things are moldy.” Despite his opinion, he’d always helped her cut up the ingredients and dutifully eaten a portion. She felt wonderful when he ate food she’d prepared, and even more so when she knew it was good for him.
When she’d teased him that it was her job to keep him healthy, he’d smiled, his expression approving and pleased, although all he’d said was yes.
Was that how he felt about her? It was his job to keep her healthy? Happy?
She liked that. But what about him making the decisions for me? The times when he told her to do something and she didn’t agree. She bit her lip. There had been quite a few instances like that, actually. But she’d complied, because it had mattered enough to him to order it, and…she wanted to give him that pleasure, to receive his smile of approval.
I am so confused.
Returning home was supposed to have put her life back on track, but the track see
med to have turned into a rut. Had it been this lonely before? Maybe she should get a roommate. She wiggled her toes in Ari’s fur, and he rolled so she’d rub his side as well. A roommate who could talk. And argue, even if it was about the merits of action movies over chick flicks.
She’d actually watched a Chuck Norris movie last night. How weird was that?
“What am I going to do, Ari? Should I try to visit Master R while I’m there?” She glanced at the boarding pass on the coffee table. She had a flight to Tampa on Friday. In the hospital, Galen and Vance had warned her she’d be called back, off and on, for some of the legal stuff. Ugh. The thought of talking about her slavery again made her sick. Then again… She smiled. Partly because of her, the buyers and slavers were imprisoned. In cages. Go me.
What about Master R?
“I miss him, you know. I really do love him, and I think he loves me too. Maybe.” She frowned. How many times had she wondered? He’d only said it that once. What if he didn’t mean it?
She took a bite of her salad, chomping determinedly. “And I miss…” She sighed. “Belonging. Maybe that’s what it’s all about.” She pointed her fork at Ari. “Take you, for example. You know I own you, but you also know that I’m yours. I’m your person, and I take care of you. I feed you and brush you. But you guard me and feel important because you do. Part of it’s serving and giving, and part of it’s belonging, and part of it’s being dominated. I see the pattern, but it’s sure confusing.
“I don’t think I’d love him as much if he weren’t dominant, because that’s who he is. But just because I like some of his control, do I want it all the time?”
Dammit, why isn’t there a book with the answers in it?
Chapter Eighteen
The US District courthouse was intimidating, and the quizzing Kim had gone through hadn’t helped her nerves any. She sat on a bench in the long hallway, trying to make her insides stop shaking as she waited for Vance to return. She’d done her duty, given her information. With Lord Greville dead and the Overseer cooperating, she was mostly filling in the gaps.
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