Coming Out of the Dark: Second Chance Series - Book 1

by Joan Davis

  *****

  It was late afternoon, and Samson finished preparing a roast and vegetables before placing them in the oven for dinner later on that night. His hair was still damp from his shower, and he was dressed in a casual shirt and jeans.

  He thought about the day and how happy Risa seemed. Before today, Samson realized he had rarely seen her truly smile or laugh. It was almost like she was waiting for something awful to happen and was trying to prepare herself. Does she truly believe she is free of that hell, or does she really believe this freedom is only temporary? Samson thought to himself with concern. He had been watching her over the last few days. He noticed she would try her best to make her father feel like she was doing fine, but the moment her father wasn’t looking her face would fill with dread and sadness.

  Samson was determined to convince her that her life was her own. He wanted her to truly believe the people who took her would never bother her again. Risa had to have faith that Saren and his followers had no control over her, and she was free to live her life and be happy. I am going to find a way to make her believe that she has truly been liberated from those monsters, Samson thought to himself.

  Glancing at his watch, he went to check on Risa and to see what she wanted for desert. That is a lame excuse, buddy, he told himself, but kept on walking.

  Knocking on her bedroom door, Samson waited for Risa to answer, but nothing happened. Frowning, he knocked more firmly, and when there was still no answer Samson became concerned. He turned the door knob and pushed the door open slowly. Faintly, he heard the shower running in the bathroom, but his attention was fixated on Risa’s room. Drawing after drawing littered every surface in the room except the floor. There must be dozens, Samson thought in awe.

  Samson’s stunned gaze took in drawings of dragons, fairies, wolves, angels and fantasy creatures that were half-animal and half-human that lined one wall. As he followed the drawings around the room, he began seeing portraits of people from around town. There was one of Maybell and the police chief, and another one of firemen and police officers and dozens of other montages of town life. Risa even had couple of drawings of Conner and the boys that looked like it was set at her dad’s house the day she met them. It was as if she had clicked a picture and froze them in time. Every detail from Jose’s head tattoos to Mik’s white patch of hair was perfect. On the wall, across from her bed, there was a single portrait drawing of Bill and a woman who must have been Risa’s mom. Samson could feel the love that Risa put into its creation.

  All this time I had no idea she had this much talent, Samson thought in awe. She brought to life the world around her in her drawings. Bill had told him she was creative, but Samson had no idea the depth and strength of her gift. He wondered what other things he would find out about this incredible woman. Frowning, Samson suddenly realized there were no drawings of him posted on the walls.

  “Dad said the pins wouldn’t harm the walls, but I’ll take them down if you want,” Risa said in a worried voice.

  Samson swung around at the sound of Risa’s voice. She was wrapped in a cushy terry cloth robe and was clutching a towel to her chest. Her large, chocolate eyes watched him cautiously, clearly unsure of his reaction. “Risa . . .,” Samson tried to formulate his feelings into words, but he was speechless. So, he did the only thing he could think of under the circumstance, he acted like a man. “Where are mine?” Samson demanded and arched a brow at Risa.

  Risa didn’t even try to act like she didn’t understand what Samson meant. “I can’t display them,” she said uneasily. Her face burned, and she was definitely fidgeting.

  “Show me,” Samson said and waited.

  “Samson, I don’t think I . . .,” Risa started, a pleading look in her eyes.

  “Show me,” Samson said again.

  Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Risa walked over to her bed and reached underneath and pulled out three drawing pads. She laid two of them on the bed and put the other back under the bed. She then turned silently and walked over and curled up in the big chair by the window. She watched Samson walk over, sit on the bed and open the first drawing pad. Oh my God, he’s going to think he’s with a crazy person, Risa thought half hysterically.

  Risa had been shocked coming out of the bathroom. She had caught Samson standing in the middle of her room, just staring at all of her drawings. Her first instinct had been to run around, pull them all down and hide them. She had felt exposed and vulnerable, and now Samson was going to be looking at her most intimate drawings. Now, who’s going to get the horn dog label? She wanted to cry, yell and laugh at the same time. Instead, she just bit her lip and stared at Samson and waited.

  Samson opened the pad, unsure of what he would see, but feeling Risa’s tension from across the room. The first drawing was of him in the lake. His hair was slicked back and he was smiling secretively. Samson knew it wasn’t possible, but his eyes in the picture seemed to be returning his stare. It was almost eerie. He quickly flipped the page and had to stop himself from gasping out loud. Risa had drawn him as an avenging angel. This was no toga covered, ethereal, white-winged being. Instead, she had drawn him in all his naked glory. He was in an aggressive pose, as if he was turning in flight to attack an enemy. One leg was drawn up strategically, hiding his private parts. His massive, smoky wings were spread wide and arched in the way a bird poses right before it dives after its prey.

  As he continued to turn pages, Samson found that Risa had captured his emotions and stopped them in time. Humor, joy, pensiveness, anger- all these emotions and more came through clearly from each page. Risa had missed no detail, from the look in his eyes, to how she had positioned his body. Samson had always thought he was good at hiding his feelings, but it was as if Risa had torn back his mask of stoicism and left him raw and exposed.

  Still reeling from the first set of drawings, Samson reached for the second spiral pad. He heard a squeak of protest come from Risa, but when he looked up she was just staring at him in mute resignation. He took a deep breath and looked down at the first drawing. Raw lust slammed into him. Risa had drawn both of them in his bed. They were both asleep, with Samson on his back and Risa sprawled in contented repose across his body. Though they were both obviously naked, Risa had drawn sheets that draped intentionally over various body parts. It made the scene more erotic that way.

  Turning each page was an exercise in raw passion. In one, Risa’s head was thrown back, her small body arching in his huge hands as he sucked on one of her breasts. Another had her sitting on the kitchen’s island with her robe opened and falling off one naked shoulder. She was looking out from the picture, beckoning the viewer to take a peach she was so temptingly offering. The hunger and need in her eyes was impossible to resist, and Samson unknowingly growled with passion. Page after page caught them both in passionate embraces, until he got to the last page. This drawing staggered Samson. Risa had drawn a close up of them face to face. He was cupping her head in his hand and his fingers were threaded through her silky hair. Risa’s eyes were closed and she was leaning her head into his hand in absolute trust. Samson was humbled. Risa’s soul was revealed in this drawing, and she had allowed him to see it despite her fears.

  Samson closed the drawing pad and found Risa standing in front of him, wringing her hands. “Please say something. I can’t take it anymore,” she said apprehensively.

  Samson gently pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. He laid his cheek against her chest and felt her heartbeat. “You were right,” Samson mumbled. “You can’t hang those drawings on the wall.” He tilted head up and caught Risa’s serious gaze and gave her a very naughty smile.

  “Samson . . .,” Risa said plaintively, but smiled back.

  He looked curious. “One thing though. You . . . left certain parts of my anatomy . . . out, so to speak. Why was that?”

  Risa looked everywhere but at Samson. Blushing to her roots, she said, “I can’t draw something I’ve never seen.”

  “Wel
l, we can fix that . . .,” Sam leaned back, pretending to go for the buttons on his jeans.

  Samson!” Risa shrieked and put her hands over her eyes. “God, shoot me now.”

  Samson’s laughter rumbled, but he pulled Risa’s hands down and made her meet his gaze. “Baby, seriously, I don’t know what to say. I had no idea you had all this inside, you or that you had the creative ability to express it. They are beautiful Risa, all of them.” Samson said sincerely.

  “Thank you,” Risa said and leaned down and gave him the sweetest kiss. Samson froze. It was the first time Risa had initiated a kiss with him, and it made his heart lurch.

  When Risa raised her head, he said, “Woman, if it weren’t for the fact that your dad is going to come walking in the front door any second, we would be naked and sweaty right now.” Samson smiled wolfishly.

  “Samson . . .!” Risa cried, blushing furiously. His words set fire to her blood, and her imagination started to wander.

  Samson looked thoughtful for a moment. “Risa, what’s in the drawing pad you put back under the bed?” he asked, suddenly remembering it. “More hot pictures?” he asked with a naughty smile.

  Risa froze and a shuttered look came over her eyes. She shook her head. “It’s for therapy,” she said reluctantly.

  “You do drawings for therapy?” Samson asked cautiously. He knew he was treading in dangerous waters. He tried to keep his tone light and inquisitive.

  Risa’s brow crinkled, as if in pain. “When I went to my session the other day, I told Dr. Harrison, my therapist, that I was drawing again. She thought it would be a good tool to use as part of my therapy,” Risa said frowning and avoiding Samson’s gaze.

  “What do you draw? Can you show them to me?” Samson asked, not really understanding why, but feeling like that drawing pad was somehow threatening to Risa. His protective instincts kicked in, and Samson wanted to protect her from the pain he could see in her eyes.

  Risa shook her head violently. “No, Samson, please don’t ask to see those drawings. They’re not . . . I don’t want . . . I just can’t show you,” Risa ended in a painful whisper and bowed her head.

  Samson put his forehead against her. “It’s okay, baby. Whatever you want. Just forget about it,” he said soothingly. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her any discomfort or pain.

  Swallowing hard, Risa made a snap decision. She didn’t want to hold anything back from Samson. She knew he would understand, but it was hard to force herself to divulged one of her secret fears. “I can’t let those images into anyone else’s head, Samson, especially you. It’s hard enough showing them to Dr. Harrison. I don’t want anyone to see what I see in my mind. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Sometimes the pictures come at me so fast it’s like I’m on this scary ride. I’m standing still, but everything else keeps spinning around faster, and faster and pictures keep flashing in front of me to scare me. But these pictures are real, and they aren’t pictures, they’re memories. I don’t want that to happen to you, so I can’t show them to you,” Risa finished and took a deep, shuttering breath.

  Samson pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her protectively. How do I fight the demons in her mind? Samson raged to himself. She trying to protect me and everyone else, and yet she feels like she’s all alone in this fight. How do I protect her from her own memories? He wanted to take away every bad memory she had and replace them with happiness and joy. Sighing to himself, Samson knew that all he could do was hold on to her and be there when she needed him. He held her just a little tighter and then pulled back to gently kiss her lips.

  “No matter what, Risa, I am right here with you. Just hold me tight. Trust me?” Samson asked, smiling into her worried eyes.

  “Yes, always,” Risa answered softly. Samson’s arms felt incredibly comforting as they folded around her body. She knew she was safe when he held her close. Suddenly, Risa frowned and pulled Samson’s wrist up and looked at his watch. “It’s six thirty. Shouldn’t dad be back by now?” she asked, a concerned frown on her face.

  “Don’t worry, baby, your dad said he might be late. Remember?” Samson asked reassuringly. At Risa’s nod, he hugged her again and then pulled her towards the bedroom door. “Why don’t we go out to the living room and watch a movie? If Bill isn’t home in an hour, we’ll give him a call. Okay?” Samson coaxed.

  An hour later, Samson listened as for the second time as his call went straight to Bill’s voice mail. He glanced up at Risa as she stood at the window by the front door and stared out at the night. After their first call hadn’t reached Bill, Risa had withdrawn into herself. Samson had tried to reassure her, but she stood alone, isolated and continued to stare out the window.

  Samson walked farther away from Risa and quietly called Conner. “We can’t reach Bill on his cell. Please tell me we still have eyes on him,” Samson asked without preamble.

  “We do. Hold on a sec,” Conner said and the line was silent for a few seconds before Conner came back. “Samson, Bill just turned onto your road. You should see him any second.”

  “Thanks,” Samson said and hung up before Conner could answer. He turned to tell Risa, but she was already running out the door she had just wrenched open. Samson quickly followed her, seeing the lights of Bill’s truck as it pulled into to driveway.

  “Daddy,” Risa choked out before launching herself at her dad as he came up the walk.

  “Risa, what’s wrong honey?” Bill asked as he held her tightly to him. He was immediately concerned for his daughter. Risa didn’t answer. She just tightened her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. Bill looked at Samson. “What happened to my girl?” Bill asked grimly.

  “When it got late and you still weren’t home yet, Risa became concerned. We couldn’t reach you on your cell phone,” Samson said quietly.

  Holding Risa with one arm, Bill reached a hand into his pants pocket and pulled out his cell. He looked at it and cursed. Kissing his daughter’s head and patting her back, Bill said, “Risa, I forgot to turn my ringer up after my meeting. I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.

  “I can’t lose you again, Daddy. I just can’t,” Risa whispered and hugged her dad tighter.

  Samson shared a look with Bill. Bill shook his head, but Samson wasn’t having it. “Risa, there’s something you should know,” Samson started.

  Bill sighed and finished for Samson. “I was never alone, Risa. Sam has men tailing me every time I go out on a job or even when you and I go into town.” When Risa pulled back in shock, Bill quickly continued, “I asked Sam not to say anything to you about it. I didn’t want you to be worried every time we left the house. I thought it was better to keep you in the dark. I was wrong, I guess. I’m so sorry. It’s my fault. Please don’t blame Sam. He was doing what I asked of him.”

  Risa slowly pulled out of her dad’s arms and turn to look at Samson. “You should have told me,” she said softly.

  Samson stared down solemnly at Risa. “I want you both safe. I did what I thought was best,” he said simply.

  Risa walked up to Samson and jumped up to hug his neck tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear.

  Surprised, Samson wrapped his arms around Risa and hugged her close. He buried his face in her neck. His body shuddered and his heart pounded. His emotions overwhelmed him. How could this tiny woman affect him so deeply? “If it’s the last thing I do, baby, I will make sure those animals will never threaten you or your dad again. I promise you that,” Samson whispered back.

  CHAPTER 6

  Samson sat at his grandmother, Selena’s, large dining room table eating lunch. She had invited his parents to join them. After ignoring several calls from his parents, he was summoned to attend this lunch. You did not refuse Selena Knight. He had reluctantly left Risa and her father at the house with Conner. Samson was finding it hard to concentrate on his family. All he wanted to do was to get back to Risa. He felt unsettled when she wasn’t near him. He glanced at his parents and waited. He co
uld tell the interrogation was about to start. He didn’t have long to wait, noticing his mother nudge his father and frown.

  Clearing his throat Jake Knight said, “I hear you’ve had some recent excitement out your way.” Jake frowned at his wife as she rolled her eyes at his vague comment.

  “Yes sir,” Samson said stoically and continued eating.

  Samson’s mother, Mauve Knight, watched her son for several minutes before saying, “How long are Bill Landau and his daughter going to be staying with you, Samson?” Her turquoise eyes, so much like her sons, stared at him curiously. She waited patiently and tucked a loose strand of her dark red hair back behind her ear as her son finished chewing his food and slowly sat back in his chair.

  “Do you have a problem with me having guests in my home?” Samson asked, raising a brow and looking at his parents. His father was still a large robust man, who was in his late fifties. His long hair was heavily lined with gray and in a familiar single braid that fell down his back. His mother, by contrast, was petite and had creamy, pale skin that was a perfect foil for her glorious long red hair.

  “Do not disrespect your parents, grandson. Answer the question you were asked,” Selena Knight said sternly, as she returned to the dining room with a new batch of biscuits. She took her seat and waited silently.

  Sighing, Samson said, “I’m sorry, I meant no disrespect. You obviously know the Landaus’ history. I am helping them install better security in their home. I thought it was prudent to have them stay with me during the installation process since I already have security set up in my home.”

  “Have the police come up with any leads on the man that attacked her in the woods?” Jake Knight asked his son.

  “The storm that came through that night pretty much washed away any evidence that may have been found. They weren’t very helpful all the way around, if you want to know the truth. Bill Landau has just about had it with both the D.A. over in Cloverdale and the police department. I don’t blame him,” Samson said grimly.