“A young girl, forensic evidence suggests she was in her late teens at most. Also bound. No identification as yet and the body’s in more of an advanced stage of decomposition, so the job’s going to be harder.” His hands squeeze mine, “They’re still searching; the cadaver dogs are behaving as though there might be more to find.”
Feeling sorry for the cadaver dogs—they can’t have a happy life, no one wants to praise them when they're successful in their search—I put my cup of tea back down on the table. I don’t know why I was holding it; it’s too hot to drink, it’s just a prop, a familiar action to ground me. Standing, I walk across to the window, hugging my arms around me, trying to ward off the cold that sweeps through my body at the realisation that it’s all my fault. Two people were dead—possibly more—who could have been alive had I reported my rape seven years ago. “I could have stopped him, Ben. I should have reported the kidnap and abuse… If only I hadn’t been so weak.”
“Now stop that!” In a second he’s standing by my side, and taking hold of my arm as he gives me a gentle shake. “You can’t take any blame. Yes, it should have been reported, but like so many rapes it wasn’t, and for the wrong reasons. The one authority figure in your life at the time misguided you. You were seventeen, Mia; you can’t blame your adult self for mistakes a teenager made. Of course, you’d report it now, but then? Apart from the fact your mother prevented you from speaking to anyone; she was constantly telling you you brought it on yourself. And not just once, but over and over again, brainwashing you until you fucking believed it!”
He looks straight into my eyes, “Mia, you’re not weak, you’re a strong person. You picked yourself up. You saw through the lies fed to you by your mother, the very individual who was supposed to protect and nurture you.” He pauses as he summons up the right words. “You survived, honey. You didn’t let him destroy you, then. Don’t let him do that now.”
I turn my head to face him. “Even if I could accept that, Ben, it doesn’t help. Others died.”
“Just concentrate on the fact that Hatcher’s gone now. It’s over. He won’t have any more victims.” He tilts his head to one side to look at me carefully, and then grins, “Your tea’s getting cold.”
I have to smile back. The English cure all for all situations, tea. I go back and drink my cup, putting its curative properties to the test.
He returns to his seat. Ben’s been my rock this last week, coming round almost every day to keep me updated, and we’ve settled into a comfortable friendship. I enjoy his visits. He’s a handsome man, a little older, and different to Jon, tall with blond hair curling down around his collar, blue eyes that twinkle, and a devastatingly sexy smile which should make my toes curl when he turns it on me. Everything about him screams Dom. But there’s nothing there, not even the whisper of anything between us. He’s not Jon.
He’s smiling now. “Don’t dwell on what-might-have-beens. Everyone makes mistakes. We’re only human.”
I can’t smile back, and with the man never far from my mind, I say, “I don’t blame Jon.” Then quickly add to hide my slip, “Or anyone else at Grade A.”
The smile disappears, he can see straight through me. “Jon knows that. But he blames himself.” He inhales sharply, “I’ve never known Jon to feel so deeply about someone as he feels about you, Mia.”
“Felt. Past tense,” I correct him.
“No.” He contradicts me, “You mean so much to him, yet he thinks he failed to keep you safe.” He’s quiet for a moment as if deciding whether to continue. “Mia, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but Jon’s not coping well. I’ve never seen him like this before. He’s missing you.”
“I’m here!” I stand up, frustrated. He’s missing me? I fucking miss him like hell; I want him here with me. I don’t want Ben to tell me how Jon’s feeling, just as I’ve started convincing myself I’ll be okay, able to move forwards on my own. Have I? Have I really?
He comes over to me and gently turns me to face him, his eyes searching deep inside me. It seems he can see into my soul. “Do you want him back?”
Inside I’m screaming YES, but I’m trying hard to keep control so don’t let the word escape. I stay silent.
He stares at me in that Dom way, and then dips his head up and down, the corners of his mouth turn up as a knowing grin crosses his face. It seems he doesn’t need a verbal answer. “Will you trust me?”
There are not many people I put my faith in, but Ben has become one of them. I’m curious what he’s got in mind. If there’s a chance to have Jon back in my life, should I take it? If I didn’t, wouldn’t I always regret it? It wouldn’t hurt to see what he’s cooking up. “What are you thinking, Ben?” I narrow my eyes, trying to read him, but he’s a closed book to me.
His face lights up with a smirk as he answers, and what he says isn’t an explanation but an instruction. “It’s Friday tomorrow. Be ready in the evening. I’ll pick you up about nine-thirtyish. Fetwear.”
I take another deep breath and hesitate before replying. The inference in his few words very clear, “Club Tiapacan?” My voice shakes. I don’t need the confirmation. It’s written on his face. Could I bear to go back there again?
He gives me a moment to absorb the implications but doesn’t give me an opportunity to turn him down. “Trust me.” Leaning over, he brushes a quick kiss on my cheek, and then steps away. He picks up his coat to leave, but pauses and turns back as he gets to the door. “Nine-thirty, remember?”
****
Should I? Shouldn’t I? Was I actually planning on going to go to the club with Ben? What if Jon isn’t there? What if he is there? What if he’s there with someone else? How would I cope with any of those prospects?
I’ve showered, dried and styled my hair, and have carefully applied my makeup, so it enhances my eyes but isn’t too obvious. I haven’t yet dressed in anything other than the towel I have wrapped around me. I keep changing my mind, picking up my phone to ring Ben, and then putting it down again. Do I want to go? What if there is a chance to get Jon back? What if this is my only chance and I miss it? Or what if I go and he ignores me? Could I stand it if he turns his back on me? What if he makes it plain he doesn’t want me? Am I brave enough for yet another rejection? I know how much that would set me back, could I bear that hurt? Picking up the phone again, I text Ben.
Mia: I’m not sure this is a good idea.
Ben: The club?
Mia: Yes.
Ben: Trust me.
I wish it were that easy!
Earlier I’d been out shopping. Buying something appropriate to wear wasn’t committing me to anything, was it? I could change my mind at any time. And did; at least twenty times or more. But I’d spent time choosing a bright red satin corset, covered in black lace with suspenders attached. I purchased a red thong to go with it, and black fishnet stockings. On impulse I’d bought a pair of scarlet stilettos, heels so high I had difficulty walking in them, but I knew they made my legs look like they went on for miles. Jon would love what I’m wearing! Fuck it; he won’t have a chance to see me as I’m not going.
At nine o’clock I make a decision and, changing my mind yet again, put on my new fetwear. Looking at myself in the bedroom’s full-length mirror I know I look good. Actually, I know I’m looking fucking fantastic. I pick up my phone:
Mia: I can’t do this. Sorry.
Ben: I’ll be there in 30.
Mia: I’m not going.
Ben: See you soon.
Damn the man!
****
It’s déjà vu when I walk into the club; the only difference is that this time I’m on Ben’s arm. Now I know the procedure, so leaving him I go straight to the locker room to put my coat and bag—as I’m wearing the high heels this time, I’m permitted to keep my shoes—in a vacant locker. I go back and hand my key over to Ben for safe keeping. While I was getting ready, Ben’s lost the shirt and now wears only tight denim jeans that sit low on his hips and a leather vest which hangs open, showing off h
is muscular abs, almost, but not quite as good as Jon’s. Ben hugs me in an entirely platonic way, offering me his support, and I respond in the same manner. My feelings for the man who’s brought me here as his guest are completely asexual, but I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t take a moment to admire the view, even if it doesn’t work for me. Some girl’s going to be lucky tonight, but I’ve no inclination for it to be me. Which begs the question, why am I so fixated on the man who doesn’t want me? Why do I feel that there’s only ever going to be one man I’m going to want in my life? Why can’t I move on? There’s none of the excitement that filled me the first time I was here; the overwhelming emotion I’m feeling is sadness. I don’t know how I’ll cope if I see Jon with someone else. Please don’t let me see him playing with another woman. I’d die a little inside.
Straightening my back, I pull away from Ben, and I give myself a silent lecture. I had survived before I met Jon Tharpe, and I’ll bloody well survive after him too. Just goes to show I was right to keep men very much at arm’s length for the last seven years. Letting them close only opens the door for pain.
I try to summon up Dexie, but like a bolt of lightning it hits me, she’s already here. Somewhere along the way my two personalities have merged, and I no longer need to play a role. Looking across at myself reflected in the glass doors I realise for the first time I have the confidence to carry this off, whatever tonight holds. Fuck Jon Tharpe! I’ll enter the club with my head held high.
“Ready?” Ben’s steely all-seeing eyes are watching me closely.
Despite my new found self-assurance I need a backup plan if this all goes pear-shaped, so I touch his arm. “Will you take me home if…?”
“I’ll take you home whenever you want, Mia.” His confirmation encourages me. Touching his hand to my chin, he raises my face so I’m looking at him. “I’m Sir or Master Ben when we step inside. Remember your protocols. And if you want to negotiate a scene make sure you find me.”
I show my agreement and chuckle, “And no hitting Doms?”
He laughs out loud and shakes his head, “Abso-fucking-lutely not!”
He pushes the doors open, holding them to let me pass through into the main room. It feels like only yesterday that I was here but in the same instant it seems like a lifetime ago. It’s taking those first footsteps into this elitist club that confirms how much I’ve changed. I feel sure of myself with the conviction I’m looking good. I may not yet be ready for any man except Jon to touch me intimately, but at least I look the part and if—when—I get over him, maybe I could go there. What I’m not doing is shrinking with fear at the thought.
Ben doesn’t hurry me, just waits patiently beside me, letting me soak up the atmosphere of the room. Like the last time I was here, we’ve arrived early, so the action hasn’t yet got going, and there are not too many people around. But my first test is walking towards me.
“Hello, pet.” It’s Donavan.
I surprise myself, feeling no hesitation as I reply respectfully, “Good evening, Sir.” I even summon up a weak smile. I can’t be sure whether he’s forgiven me.
But he returns my tentative response with a friendly grin which transforms his face; he no longer looks stern or scary. Then, as fast as it came, the smile fades. “I read about what happened to that author, Dexie Sanders,” he says pointedly, “I’m so very sorry, pet.”
I start a little, but I should have realised that people would have made the connection. The death of Hatcher and my kidnap had been all over the news, and unfortunately, the newshounds had found my true identity. Lifting my head up, I look him in the eye. “I survived,” I say, simply. Luckily the newspaper reports hadn’t gone into the full details of my experience, only my kidnap, and kidnapper’s demise. Grade A made sure of that.
He looks at me searchingly for a moment, then nods and walks away. I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding and am glad that I’ve got the hurdle of meeting Donavan over and done with early in the night.
Squeezing my arm Ben gives me a look clearly showing his approval. “Drink?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer but starts to lead me to the bar. Approaching, I notice there are some familiar faces waiting there.
“Vodka tonic?” Master Ralph grins as my eyebrows go up in surprise that he’s remembered my drink, and answers my unspoken question. “Photographic memory. Great bartending skill. Good to see you back again, pet.”
I laugh at his explanation and thank him for his welcome. Then I turn to the two women already seated on bar stools, Gorgeous, and Diamond. Gorgeous is looking out of this world fabulous, dressed only in corset and thong. Diamond is wearing another see through diaphanous dress which clearly shows she’s wearing nothing underneath. I’m overdressed beside them.
Both of them are looking at me sympathetically. I should have expected that, but the last thing in the world I need is for people to treat me differently because of him. I want to put Hatcher in my rear view mirror, not constantly be reminded of my ordeal.
I see Ben’s frown directed towards them, and his unspoken message must have been clear as Diamond leans forward and hugs me, then, rather than rehashing what happened to me, just says how great it is to see me here again, and compliments me on my get up. I let out a silent sigh of relief knowing they’re not going to be asking difficult questions I’ve no wish to answer. I’m all talked out on the subject of my abduction. Thanking Master Ralph when my drink arrives on the bar, I take a long sip before I remember the two drink limit and that I have to go slow. I rest my glass back on the counter and hop up on a stool Diamond has just vacated to move along to the next one so I can sit between her and Gorgeous. Ben excuses himself, and I’m left alone with the girls.
“Are you going to play tonight?” Gorgeous leans forwards and shouts in my ear. The thumping music has just been turned up in volume.
I tap my foot to the steady beat while thinking how to answer her. There’s only one man I want to play with, and if that doesn’t work out, I’m out of here. “Maybe,” I answer evasively.
She gives me a knowing look, “Making him jealous might work.”
“Fuck!” I spit out my drink. “Does everyone know?” Okay, the kidnap was common knowledge, but what happened between Jon and I was personal, and I hadn’t thought it would have got around.
She shakes her head and hastily reassures me, “Only Diamond and I. Ben thought we might be able to help move things along.”
They’ve apparently been plotting. I look at Gorgeous questioningly, “How?”
She pats my hand. “Let’s wait and see how things pan out. Diamond and I are good at thinking on the fly. While these Doms believe they are in control, they forget how manipulative us subs can be.”
Her undeniable optimism, coupled with the way Diamond’s eyes are sparkling as she nods in agreement with her older woman, makes me feel lighter. I realise these two women could well become good friends.
We sip our drinks in comfortable companionship, and I listen to them discussing girly matters until Diamond leans forward and whispers in my ear, “Eh up! Don’t look now, but Master Jon’s arrived. Ignore him, Mia. Show him you’re here for you, and not sitting waiting for him.”
I haven’t seen him since the day of my rescue from the barn when he abandoned me to Ben’s care, so keeping my eyes turned away is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I don’t need him; I don’t need him. I try to keep the words repeating in my head, but as I sense him move across the room towards me, I realise I’m still tuned in to this man, and how I’m only fooling myself if I think my heart can survive him keeping away.
His scent wafts over, the intimate mixture of man and the aftershave he uses and I know he’s standing very close to me. I stay turned towards Diamond as if intent on our conversation. Master Ralph appears as if by magic with a shot of whisky in his hand. I see a familiar arm snake out over my shoulder and take it from the bar.
“Thanks, Master Ralph.” I hear him speak, but it’s not to me. His voice
sends shivers down my spine, and I hate myself for the unwanted reaction.
“Master Jonathan.” The barman nods at the man standing behind me.
Jon takes his drink, and I feel him walking away. He hasn’t spoken or acknowledged me in any way. My head bows, a wave of desolation floods over me. An arm goes round my shoulders; a hand touches my arm. Leaning in, one on each side, Diamond and Gorgeous pull me close to comfort me.
“He’s hurting too,” Diamond murmurs.
“Then why doesn’t he show it?” I shake my head in despair, unable to understand him.
“We’ll make him.” The tone of Gorgeous’ voice suggests she’s got a plan. I sit up straighter, prepared to listen. “That’s my girl,” she laughs approvingly, “We just need to elicit a little help.” She looks around, points to someone and raises her eyebrows. I turn round along with Diamond, but don’t know what’s caught her eye.
Diamond understands, however, as she chuckles, and waves, beckoning the unknown person over. “I think we’ll need Master Ben,” she suggests to Gorgeous.
“I’ll go get him.” Gorgeous seems to know what she’s talking about even if I don’t, and slides off the stool and disappears.
“Why do we need Ben?” I ask, perplexed, not understanding anything at all.
“For your negotiation,” Diamond says sneakily, as she glances up to smile at the man who’s approached us. With trepidation wondering who she’s thinking of setting me up with I follow the direction of her eyes and am pleasantly surprised to see Ryan. I haven’t seen him since I left him at the sawmill.
He moves until he’s standing in front of me, a cautious look on his face. He reaches out his hand to shake mine. I’m struck again by the men I’ve met from Grade A, and have to admire their selection criteria as they all seem to be tall and stunning. Alpha males, of that there can be no doubt. Like most of the others, I know Ryan’s background is military, but unlike some of his colleagues, he’s kept the army’s short back and side’s haircut. I don’t normally like the almost shaven look, but on Ryan, it suits him and frames his sharp features. Like so many others he’s wearing the Dom’s uniform of figure hugging dark jeans, and a tight black T-shirt which does nothing to disguise his muscular frame. He's got tattoos down one arm which I’d like to examine closer. He towers over me, even as he props his backside against the high stool recently vacated by Gorgeous.
Close Protection (Blood Brothers #2) Page 36
