From Dust

by Freya Barker

  When his breathing finally slows down a little, he lifts one hand from behind his head and reaches down to brush the hair off my forehead. The first time he actively touches me and it strikes me how well he reads me. I needed this to take back control.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, causing his eyes to widen slightly.

  “I should be thanking you. Amazing. It killed me not to touch you, but I wanted you to feel free to take what you needed. Guess I never figured how much I needed that myself.”

  I crawl up to lie by his side and he turns his head to face me, tracing his hand from my shoulder down to my hip.

  “I’d love nothing more than to bury my face between your legs right now and not come up for air for days, but I’m taking your lead. You’ll tell me when you’re ready?” He almost seems tentative asking.

  “You trusted enough to let me take control and it was exactly what I needed—what I wanted. I loved doing that to you and it turned me on. I’m still turned on, but I want to carry that feeling with me for a while—let it settle in and build. Being aroused is a victory for me. It’s been many years since I’ve felt anything close to this. It makes me feel alive.”

  Leaning in, I brush my lips against his in a sweet kiss before drawing back and looking him in the eye.

  “You’re a beautiful man, Gunnar Lucas. And you don’t look half-bad, either.”

  His deep chuckle follows me as I get up to go to the bathroom, warming me from the inside out.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Syd

  “What have you got planned for your special?”

  It’s almost one o’clock on Thursday as Dino walks in the kitchen, straight over to the large pot I have sitting on the stove. “Smells fucking phenomenal.”

  “Shrimp and pork Jambalaya,” I tell him, smiling when he grabs a spoon and dives in for a taste.

  I’ve missed cooking. It’s been a couple of weeks and I’m glad to be back in the saddle so to speak. Last week Gunnar took me back to see the doctor who removed the stitches and declared me healthy, other than my ribs which might be sore for a bit yet, according to him. Gunnar hadn’t been pleased when I announced I wanted to be back in the apartment, but I was adamant. Oh, the temptation to stay with him and the kids was huge, but my daily sessions with Pam made it clear that I still had some work to do on me. And I couldn’t focus on me if I was constantly focused on him and the children. Waking up in his bed every morning with his arms wrapped tightly around me is something I missed, but the constant state of arousal I walked around with was starting to get to me. It was something I discussed with Pam and she suggested a bit of distance. Nothing more than a few kisses had happened between us since that morning, but it was getting harder to ignore his prominent morning wood waking up. Pam said that if I still felt I had to hold out, I probably wasn’t ready. She said I should trust myself to know when.

  The entire time, Gunnar had been true to his word, never pushing for anything and simply waiting for me to make a move. When that move was to go back to my apartment, I could tell he was disappointed, but he helped me pack up and dropped me off all the same. He cares for me. I can tell in everything he does. But I don’t want to run the risk of making myself at home in his life when I still haven’t found the courage to confront all of my demons. Pam’s been prodding around the edges of what is holding me back and seems to know I haven’t come clean completely. I know it’s a matter of time before all will come out. I just don’t know what I will be left with after it does, and I don’t want to hurt anyone else.

  The guilt I carry as a cloak seems less heavy now than ever before. I’m sure the sessions with Pam have helped. She pointed out that if anyone I cared for had been threatened, I wouldn’t have thought twice about defending them, regardless of the outcome, yet when it comes to having defended myself, I can only focus on my perceived responsibility in the outcome. I’m starting to listen and even believe my actions may have been justified.

  I’ve been back above The Skipper for a week now and back at work since then, even though Gunnar forced modified duties on me. Actually, he didn’t have to push hard when he asked if I would consider doing the books for him. I frankly jumped at the chance. It’s been good. I’ve been able to create some space in the budget, enough to pay the new cleaning crew who now come in before opening and whip through the place in an hour. Viv or I still pitch in during the day when necessary, but only with a quick wipe down.

  Gunnar also managed to get one of last year’s summer part-timers to come in full-time. Leanne just finished college but isn’t sure yet what to do with her degree. A sweet and bubbly girl, she seems to fit in quite well. With Matt behind the bar permanently and Leanne serving, the rest of us can jump in and out as needed.

  Emmy and Dex still come in after school each day, but now instead of hanging in the kitchen the whole time, I take them upstairs to my apartment to do their homework there. A little less distraction for them. We eat jointly in the kitchen and Gunnar tries to join as much as he can. He’s been able to take them home at around seven most nights, leaving him the entire evening with them. He seems to be less stressed, so it’s working for now. Come summer, when they’re off, will be another thing, but that won’t be for another month or so.

  “This stuff is great. Did you use cumin?” Dino’s voice draws me back to the present and the large man spooning a bowlful of Jambalaya.

  “Yes, actually; cumin, and a hint of cardamom along with the cayenne and brown sugar.”

  “Mmmm.” He mumbles as he sits down at the kitchen table, digging into his bowl.

  “Food!” Matt walks into the kitchen behind me, grabbing a bowl on his way to the stove. Gunnar isn’t far behind him, and before you know it, the kitchen table has everyone but Viv sitting around it, putting a good dent in my Thursday Special. With a smile on my face, I head down the hall to the bar to see if Viv needs some help now that she’s been left to run The Skipper by herself.

  “Where the hell did everyone go?” she asks when she sees me.

  “Having a taste test in the kitchen.” I giggle at the look of disbelief on her face.

  “Typical fucking men. Stomach first, responsibilities after,” she says, shaking her head. “They better be leaving some for me.”

  I’m getting a kick out of the positive feedback on my cooking. That and the now familiar sense of belonging makes me almost happy, but I never lose the niggling feeling that someday, when they learn all there is to know about me, I’ll be rejected the same way my own family rejected me.

  Stopping at the few occupied tables, I clear off plates and take drink orders, the smile still lingering on my face. That is, until Sergeant Winslow walks in, heading straight for me.

  “Ms. Donner, could I have a word?”

  I turn to the patrons at the table, a family with a little baby who look a little uncomfortable. “Please excuse me for a minute while I help this gentleman?”

  With a ‘Sure’ and a ‘Go ahead’, I lead the cop to Gunnar’s office, letting him step in before I close the door and turn to face him.

  “How dare you walk in here like that, putting a scarlet letter on my chest in front of the customers.” I’m incensed at the blatant show of disrespect. Not so much for myself, but for what it could do for The Skipper if rumors started flying. We’ve had enough speculation fly around the wharf since the attack; last thing we need is law enforcement enhancing those.

  “Well now, it would appear our victim has grown some claws,” Winslow almost sneers.

  He’s making a mistake if he thinks he can intimidate me. Oh, he might’ve, even as little as three weeks ago, but what he doesn’t realize is that I didn’t come out of the attack a victim, I came out a survivor. Something that has only been enforced in the past few weeks and I’ll be damned if I let him undermine that.

  “Survivor, not victim,” I set him straight. “Now what can I help you with that was urgent enough to haul me away from customers?” I make no effort to conceal the sarcasm. He doesn
’t seem to take the bait.

  “You have a knack for surviving, don’t you, Ms. Donner? First, you appear out of nowhere, even though you and I both know you were here all along, living in the shed. The one that ‘happened’ to burn down? I recognize burns when I see them, and the ones on your hands seem fairly fresh. Then you are supposedly attacked by a man you say tried to rape you. A man who happens to end up dead by your hands.”

  I should’ve recognized the evil gleam in his eyes, but still I’m shocked when he continues.

  “Not the first time you’ve had blood on your hands, is it, Ms. Donner?” Looking very pleased with himself at the pain I feel pulling at my face, he tilts his head to the side. “Did you really think I wouldn’t look a little deeper? Since you appeared on the scene, I have an unexplained fire and a dead man. All a tad too coincidental for my liking. My superiors may have decided yours was a clear-cut case of self-defense and are telling me to back down, but I’m warning you; I have my eye on you.”

  And then I snap.

  “You sanctimonious, self-righteous, son of a bitch! Look all you want, you asshole! Feel big now, do you? All big and threatening to a woman half the size of your fat ass and still bearing the injuries of an attack? Yeah, you’re a hero allright, Sergeant Winslow. A real fucking protector of the innocent.” I know I’m yelling, but I can’t seem to stop myself. Yanking open the door, I hold my arm out. “If that’s all, then get the fuck out!”

  All he has done is smirk at me, but when I open the door and point at it, his face straightens. From behind me I hear, “Better do as she fucking says.” Comes the deceptively calm rumble of Gunnar’s voice. He must’ve walked up when he heard the shouting and steps up to my back, slipping his arm around my waist to anchor my shaking body. “And if I see you here again, I’ll get your ass suspended so fast you won’t know what hit you.”

  Winslow’s eyebrows shoot up. “Are you threatening an officer of the law, Mr. Lucas?”

  Stepping around my body, pushing me behind him, Gunnar gets up in the officer’s face. “You’ve got that right. And I dare you to try me. Don’t underestimate me, Winslow. You have no idea of the kind of connections I have.”

  Appearing a bit shaken now, Winslow throws me a last glare as he walks out the office without saying another word.

  Gunnar

  What the fuck? When Viv came running into the kitchen, telling me to get my ass in the office, I had no idea I’d find Syd yelling at the cop. She was doing a decent job at dressing him down by the sounds of it. It was a bit of a turn on to hear her stand up for herself, but it didn’t stop the anger from coursing through my body and I had to hold myself back from storming in there and laying the bastard out. Should’ve guessed he’d be sniffing around again. For some damn reason, he’s decided to be a pain in my ass since the fire, but coming after Syd like this? My patience has finally run out.

  “You okay, Bird?” I ask her, watching her try to compose herself.

  “Fucking asshat.”

  I can’t hold back the chuckle, the language incongruent with the pretty little mouth on the small woman in front of me. She stands with her legs slightly spread, shoulders pulled up to her ears and her fists clenched by her side. If the furious glare at Winslow’s retreating back is anything to go by, the man just made a serious enemy. When I reach out for her, she whips around to face me and I can see her eyes go from burning with anger, to burning with something else altogether.

  Without further thought, I pull her against me and slam my mouth on hers in an adrenaline-filled kiss. At some point, she must’ve unclenched her fists because I can feel her small hands sliding under my shirt and up my back, sending shivers over my skin. So fucking good. My own hand slides down to cup her ass while the other tangles in her long hair, pulling her head back. I slide my mouth along her jaw and down her neck to the pulse point where I latch on, breathing and tasting her. She exhales on a groan and pulls herself closer into my body, rubbing her tits against my chest and her groin into my raging hard-on.

  Fuck, she turns me on. So deceivingly fragile, but with a core of steel.

  I clutch my hand on her ass, which has filled out nicely over the last few weeks. I like the curves on her. With my mouth taking claim of hers again, my other hand finds the swell of her tit, her puckered nipple rolling in the palm of my hand, and this time it’s me who groans.

  Tongues tangling and hands groping, neither of us hear anything but the other’s breathing until we are interrupted by a sharp clearing of the throat.

  “Oops. Sorry I barged in.”

  I swing my head around just in time to see Leanne backing out of the office. Keeping my arm securely around Syd, I turn to face her.

  “What’s up?” I ask Leanne. who’s blushing a bright red.

  “Erm ... I just wanted to ask if I could leave a little early tonight, but it can wait.” And before I can respond, she’s gone.

  I look down on Syd, but her face is obscured by her hair. Her shoulders are shaking and concerned she might be upset, I brush the curls off her face only to find her laughing silently.

  “What’s so funny?” I smile at her when her eyes meet mine.

  “You. Me. Dancing tentatively around each other for weeks and shared anger is what finally breaks through the standoff and ignites the spark.”

  With eyes that look sparkling blue and a wide smile on her lush lips, I swear I’ve not seen her this beautiful. Her hand comes to rest on my chest and I clasp it between us as I swing her flush against me, bending my head down to hers.

  “Make no mistake. That spark was lit a long time ago, but I’d like nothing better than to let it burn free.”

  Her pupils darken and her tongue slips out to lick her plump bottom lip, drawing my eyes to her mouth. I have to taste her again.

  “We have customers,” she mumbles against my lips and I reluctantly pull away.

  “I want to come see you after closing tonight.” My voice sounds hoarse with the effort of holding back. I’d love to slam the door shut, lock it and use my hands and mouth to learn her body before sliding my cock into her. The thought alone is making me even harder. I adjust myself to relieve the strain against my fly, which makes Syd giggle and hide her face in my chest. I love that sound and I’d love to hear more of it, but first I need to know what Winslow wanted. Almost forgot about that bastard.

  “What did he want—Winslow?”

  I see hesitation and maybe even guilt as she turns her head away, but I cup her face and turn it back to me.

  “Talk to me.” I urge, watching resignation settle on her features.

  “It’s nothing, he ... he suggested I must have some responsibility for the fire and the attack. He claims it’s too much of a coincidence.” My jaw clenches and she hurries to continue.

  “He knows I was in the shed that night, Gunnar. He noticed the burns and made a calculated guess.”

  I grab hold of her hands, which still bear the faint scars of the burns she sustained.

  “I’ll put a call in. I wasn’t kidding when I told him I have connections. The Chief of Police was a good friend of my father’s.”

  Syd shakes her head. “He mentioned he was told by the brass to back down already. I think he just wants to stir up trouble. He’d done some digging into my past and made sure I knew it.” Her voice softens with those last words and I have to strain to hear them.

  “Still gonna call, especially now that I know he had no grounds to be here.”

  She burrows her head against my chest and whispers, “I’m scared.”

  “Why?” I ask her gently, already suspecting the answer.

  “Because what he found out could ruin everything.”

  “This is about what you’ve been holding back, isn’t it?” When she nods, I stroke her hair. “Syd, there is nothing he could tell me that would change what’s going on here, but whatever it is, I’d much rather hear it from you.” I kiss the top of her head and can barely hear her soft response.

  “I know
.”

  Syd

  “You’re sleeping on your feet. Get out of here, we can manage.” Viv waves a tea towel in my direction as she tries to shoo me out of the kitchen.

  It’s been a long-ass busy day. Thursdays generally are with the all-you-can-eat menu. Even with all hands on deck, we’ve all been running around with barely any time for breaks. I had the kids up in my apartment until Mrs. Danzel came to pick them up, and she’s keeping them overnight; something Gunnar arranged on Thursdays because it’s the busiest night of the week. She also drops them at school on Friday mornings.

  Haven’t had a chance to think much either—not about Winslow’s visit earlier or the inevitable ‘talk’ I’m going to have to have with Gunnar. I know I have to. It seems unavoidable the truth will come out now and I’d rather not be surprised by his reaction, but face it straight on. From the moment Viv pulled me from the dumpster out back, part of me has known that this day would come. I’d just hoped I would have some time before it all came to a head. And it might have been possible, if not for the assault. Rape—I should start calling it like it is, or was, rather. Pam has been hammering into me to stop hiding behind pretty words, to stop avoiding things just because they may be uncomfortable. She’s been great; calling me out on every evasive answer and not letting me get away with a single thing. She forces me to talk out my feelings of guilt at having taken a life, but at the same time manages to persuade me to see it was a sequence of events I didn’t set in motion. It helped finding out it was likely not Jack’s first sexual assault. He’d been charged three years ago, but the woman he assaulted had dropped the charges and moved away. Despite the relative ease with which I’m able to discuss everything that happened in the past six weeks, she knows there is something I’ve been holding back. And even though we’ve talked about loss, about losing a child, in particular, I haven’t opened up all the way yet. After my initial adamant refusal to discuss anything pre-dating my time at The Skipper, she has been able to chip away at my past, revealing bits and pieces by asking innocuous questions. She knows I was in an unhappy marriage. She also knows I have a sister and parents I never speak to. The only thing she doesn’t know is what is at the root of my estrangement; what started my downhill path. Or maybe she does—maybe she’s guessed. Either way, it seems she won’t be the first one to hear it from my mouth. It would appear that dubious honor will be Gunnar’s, and it makes me nervous.