by Desiree Holt
“She’s got to file charges,” he was insisting to the nurse.
“She’s not doing anything until I take care of her and treat her injuries.” The nurse didn’t seem too happy to have her procedure interrupted. “X-ray for broken bones.”
“But—”
“But nothing, Davis. I’ll let you know when she can talk to you. We don’t even know her name yet.”
Fallon hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone. She hadn’t even known how she got there. She was vaguely aware the nurse found Claire’s number in her purse on her emergency notification card and called her. Then she passed out again. The next time she opened her eyes, Claire was standing beside her, holding her hand and tearing the cop a new one.
“You have my information,” she’d snapped. “Give me a card or something and I’ll call you when she’s up to being questioned.”
“No questions,” Fallon had managed to mumble and closed her eyes again. “Not now.”
She recalled arguing with the doctors about keeping her and Claire backing her up. Then the prick of a needle in her arm, some jostling, then falling into a bottomless sleep and not waking up until Claire was urging her out of the car and supporting her up the steps to the house.
Now, safe in Claire’s house, in her luxurious guest room, she felt safe for the first time. She licked her lips, her mouth feeling dry as dust. Claire, apparently anticipating everything, held a straw to her mouth while Fallon took several sips of water.
“Slowly,” she cautioned. “I don’t want you to choke.”
Even the simple act of drinking exhausted Fallon. She lay back on the pillows, drained and, yes, embarrassed. At her stupidity and for ignoring everything Claire had said.
Fallon blinked away tears. “I don’t deserve your friendship.”
“Of course you do.” Claire sat next to her again, concern lining her face. “You’d do the same for me.”
“You’d never get yourself in that kind of a situation, though.” She looked at Claire. “How did I get to the hospital? The last thing I remember is trying to get someone to open a door.”
Claire snorted. “No kidding. Apparently you collapsed on some woman’s porch, totally naked and looking like you’d been tortured by the Spanish Inquisition. I guess you rang her bell and pounded on her door but passed out before she decided to open it.”
Fallon wrinkled her forehead. “So was she the one who got me to the hospital?”
“No.” Claire shook her head, her lips thinned to a tight line. “The witch wouldn’t even let you in the house. She got a blanket to cover you and called the cops. They took you to the hospital. Thank the lord you somehow had your purse with you. Your emergency card in your wallet had my name on it. Otherwise I’m not sure what would have happened.”
Fallon shifted slightly in the bed, every movement agony but somehow blunted. Beneath the nightgown Claire had gotten her into, she could feel the stickiness of different ointments but nothing seemed to ease the pressure on her buttocks when she half-sat, half-reclined.
“When I have broken you down to nothing, I’ll decide if you’re worth keeping.”
The words played over and over in her head like a broken record, underscored with a viciousness that made her cringe. She was definitely nothing now. And she’d pulled Claire right back into the mess with her again. She reached for Claire with a hand that trembled slightly, blinking back more tears. “Thank you for coming. I don’t—”
Claire touched her fingers gently to Fallon’s mouth. “Hush. No thanks necessary. I’m so fucking glad you’re out of that house, I would have walked to the hospital. Fallon, he could have killed you.”
“I know. I don’t—I can’t remember—I mean—”
“Not now. Right now you have to sleep and heal and get your strength back. We’ll have plenty of time for you to remember. You’re in pretty rough shape, sweetie. I asked them to test for drugs at the hospital but just like last time, if he gave you anything, it was long gone from your system.”
“He had the housekeeper bring me some pills he wanted me to take this morning.” Her words were barely a whisper. “I flushed them down the john.”
“And a damn good thing you did.” Claire sighed. “Thank god no broken bones either, but the rest of you…” She shook her head. “Okay, let’s not discuss it now. I have some pain pills for you to take and creams to apply to various parts of your body.”
Fallon managed a shaky laugh. “So you’ll be my nurse?”
Claire grinned. “Funny, when I thought about playing hospital with someone, it wasn’t you I had in mind.” She stood up. “Now, you need to take one of those pills and sleep. When you wake, I’ll fix you something to eat and we’ll see if you’re up to talking.”
“Does Cord know?” She was almost afraid to ask.
“That you’re finally free of that madman? Yes. I called him on the way home from the hospital.”
Fallon wanted to crawl into a corner and hide. “He’ll never want to touch me again.”
“Honey, he loves you. All he cares about is getting you back.”
“Soiled.” She couldn’t think of another word to describe what she’d become. “Who wants that?”
“Trust me,” Claire assured. “He won’t see you that way. He’d be here right now if I let him. I had to threaten him with bodily harm to keep him away.”
“No, no, no.” Panic surged through her and she grabbed Claire’s hand. “I can’t see him! Not like this.”
“Shh. I told him he’d have to wait. He’s not taking it too well but he’ll listen to me.”
“I can’t—”
“I know. It will be all right. I promise. We’ll take it one day at a time.”
“I love him,” she said in a weak voice.
“I know that too. And he loves you.”
“How could he possibly, after all this?” Fallon closed her eyes, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. “Did I imagine a cop there?”
“No. The one who brought you in hung around. The hospital took pictures and I snapped some with my phone, just to document everything.”
“Pictures?” Oh my god.
“Honey, shh. No one will see them except us and the cops. But they are evidence.”
Fallon swallowed a bubble of nausea. “I’m so humiliated and ashamed.”
“No.” Claire leaned toward her. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. You got yourself out of there and we’re going to make sure he pays for what he did to you. When you’re ready, you’ll need to talk to the cop. I—”
“No!” Where did she even find the strength to shout so vehemently?
“Fallon, listen to me. I know this is hard, but you have to file charges against Brian. He will keep doing this until he kills someone. And you know it.”
Fallon lay there with her eyes closed, sick at the thought of relating all the details to a stranger. But Claire was right. Brian Willoughby was insane, and the sooner someone put a leash on him, the better.
“All right,” she said at last. “You’re right. But give me a couple of days to pull myself together, okay?”
She took the pill Claire offered and swallowed it with sips of water. Closing her eyes, she lay back on the pillows, waiting for the narcotic effects to work and the pain to ease. In moments, she nodded off in a drugged sleep.
“No, you can’t come over here,” Claire insisted.
She’d called Cord while driving home from the hospital, knowing he’d want to be told that Fallon was out of Brian’s grasp and in a safe place. And, as promised, she called him again when Fallon was settled and asleep.
“Damn it, Claire. I want to look at her with my own eyes.” He paused. “Is she in such bad shape you’re afraid for me to see her?”
“That’s not it, although her condition’s pretty rough. But she’s doing okay,” she added quickly. She could just imagine Cord breaking down her door.
“I can’t sit here and do nothing!”
“Okay, here’s a chore for
you. She left her car at the Cimarron Hotel. Apparently the keys are at the desk, unless Brian had them messengered to him. Can you get it picked up and brought here?”
“If the keys are gone, I’ll hotwire it if I have to,” he snarled. “Or buy her another car.”
“No, don’t do anything that drastic. I just know she’d appreciate getting her car back.”
“I’ll take care of it. And then what? Just sit and wait?”
“That’s exactly what you have to do,” she said in a firm voice. “At least for right now. Cord, I know exactly how you feel, but she doesn’t want you to see her like this.”
“How much worse can it be than the way she was after her ‘visit’ with him the other day?”
“I don’t know what her situation was then, but this is a lot more than physical.” She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “This is as much mental and emotional as physical. She’s got a lot of healing to do, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be in the mix right now.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the connection.
“Are you trying to tell me she won’t want to be with me? That I’m out of the picture?”
“I’m not trying to tell you that at all—” she began.
“Because I’ll do whatever it takes. Anything.”
“Cord, listen—”
“If it’s the sex, I can be different. If it’s—”
“Cord—”
“If it’s the D/s, I’ll change. I’ll—”
“Cord!” She was shouting into the phone now. “Damn it, shut up and listen to me!”
“What? What?”
Claire blew out a breath. “Just listen for a minute instead of sounding like a lunatic.”
Silence. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I just—”
“I know,” she broke in. “So just pay attention. I’m not saying you have to do anything or make any changes. Right now, you just have to have patience.”
“Patience,” he repeated.
She wanted to laugh. “Yes. Something you don’t seem too familiar with. Listen, besides the physical healing, Fallon’s got to get her head on straight. She needs to find out what drew her to Brian in the first place and why she stayed with him for so long last time, when things got so brutal.”
“But—”
“She loves you, Cord. She told me that. And the sex with you? Better than she ever dreamed it could be.”
“Then—”
“But she has to forgive herself before she can ask you to forgive her. Before she can be any good in a relationship. Just hang on to the fact that you are the most important thing to her and she wants to come back to you. But when she’s ready.”
“I hear you. I don’t like it, but I understand.”
Claire chewed her lip, trying to decide if she should pass her next thought along. Ultimately, she decided, Cord loved Fallon. So Claire would share as much information with him as she could. “The cop who brought her in wants to take a report. We’ve bought some time because of her condition but I don’t think they’ll just let it drop.”
“Nor should they.”
“I’m insisting she file charges against him,” Claire said.
“Thank god.”
“She hasn’t done it yet but I promise, she’s going to. I’m going to make sure of it.”
He exhaled a deep breath. “You can bet his high-priced legal team will weasel him out of it, but at least it will be on public record. And I talked to my attorney. The BDSM community will be watching him too.”
“She didn’t want to do it at first, but I insisted. And I think it will allow her to take back some measure of control too.”
“A word of advice,” Cord told her. “This all needs to be handled very carefully.”
“Yeah? What do you suggest?”
“I’m going to give you the name of my attorney. He’s also a Dom, and is aware of what Willoughby does. He’d like nothing better than to put the hurt on this guy so he can’t do this to anyone else.”
Claire’s short laugh was edged with disbelief. “The guy travels all over the world. I’m not sure that’s going to be possible.”
“We’ll do what we can,” Cord told her. “When Fallon’s ready, call Jack. Have him set up a meeting with the appropriate person. They’ll do it at your home so it will be private. She won’t have to go to the police station.”
“That’s a good idea.” She blew out a breath of relief.
“In fact, I’m going to call him now.” Cord was silent for a long moment. “And Claire… I’d like to give you the names of some people I think you should contact.”
She frowned. “What kind of people? You mean besides the attorney?”
“Yes. She needs a doctor who can check on her, for one thing. I can get a referral from Jack. Someone who is familiar with the BDSM community.”
“I think that would be good. I’ve been doing what they told me to at the hospital but I’d feel better if she had medical attention.”
“And,” he continued, “the names of therapists who specialize in working with people in the lifestyle. I think someone like that would be more help to her than a person who knows nothing about it.” Another pause. “I have a feeling that her need to be a submissive and her unhealthy addiction to Willoughby have to do with a lot of things neither of us knows about.”
Claire thought for a moment, then nodded her head, even though he couldn’t see her. “All right. That would be great. But we’re a ways away from that right now.”
“I know, I know.” More silence. “I’d like to beat that fucker to within an inch of his life.”
“As would I, but that wouldn’t accomplish anything.”
“Claire?”
“Yes?”
“You’ll call me every day with a report, right?”
“Of course.” She felt such anguish for both of her friends. “I promise.”
“I guess that will have to be enough. For now, anyway. I’ll text the names of some therapists. We’ll find someone who’ll be just what she needs.”
“Cord?”
“Yeah?”
“I believe you’re what she needs. She just has to be healthy and stable enough to be what you need too. Keep the faith. This will all work out.”
After she’d hung up the phone, Claire sat at the table for a long while, thinking. This time, Fallon would have to do more than put a bandage on the problem. She’d been the one to realize she had to get out. She’d made the decision, so desperate finally to free herself that she’d run down the street naked.
The journey might be excruciating, but Claire was optimistic about the results.
“What the fuck do you mean, she’s gone?” Brian Willoughby was shouting, nearly frothing at the mouth, his control dangerously frayed for the first time in a long while.
His current anger was directed at Mrs. Hudson, who sat at the kitchen table holding an ice pack to her head, her skin a pasty white.
Brian had been in the middle of an important business meeting, preparing to slice and dice the company of one of those assholes from the SRT, when the housekeeper had called his office. His executive assistant had taken the call and interrupted the meeting. She knew nothing of Brian’s home life, but she did know calls from Mrs. Hudson came only during dire emergencies.
Of course Mrs. Hudson would never give his assistant details, but with Fallon so newly reacquired, Brian’s gut told him not to wait until after the meeting to go home. He’d broken every speed limit along the way, royally pissed that the business deal had splintered and he’d have to start all over again.
But, as usual, his gut had been correct.
His rage was so enormous he could barely get out a coherent sentence. He’d torn through the suite Fallon had been locked in, shoving furniture around and yanking covers off the bed, as if he’d actually find her hiding there. Then he’d stormed back into the kitchen, clenching his fists to keep from strangling his housekeeper.
“I’m sorry.
”
The fear in Mrs. Hudson’s eyes had been very real. She had never been on the receiving end of his fury but she’d been with him long enough to see the results of it. He couldn’t let her shaky condition affect him. Couldn’t feel sorry for her. This was her fault, the stupid bitch.
“How the fuck did you let this happen?” he demanded yet again.
“I told you.” She spoke in a soft voice, as if the tone could somehow soothe him. “She staged the whole thing. I thought she’d fainted and pulled the lamp to the floor with her. When I knelt to check her pulse and breathing, she bashed the lamp over my head and knocked me out.”
Brian paced back and forth in the kitchen. Things were turning to shit faster than he could keep up. That morning, Natalie had been so listless, he’d wondered if he’d beaten the life out of her. He wanted obedience but laced with enough spirit that he was constantly challenged to break it down. The business deal was fractured and now Fallon had escaped—again.
Goddamn it anyway!
He had to do damage control, which meant pulling himself together so he could think. It would be easy enough to satisfy himself for the moment by firing Mrs. Hudson, but she’d been with him for so many years, supported his lifestyle. Even assisting him when required. No, it would do him no good to temporarily soothe himself by tossing away the one person in the world with whom he could be himself.
He stopped his pacing to stand in front of her.
“Do you need medical assistance?” He wasn’t used to helping others, or offering to help, so the words came out strained.
“No.” She looked up at him. “Thank you, but the ice will take care of it. Should I pack my things? Am I terminated?”
He shook his head. “But we will need to be prepared for something like this in the future. If you can function, be sure Natalie is attended to. Tell her I’ll be spending the night with her and make sure she prepares herself.”
A good place to vent his rage. He liked reducing Natalie to a quivering mass, begging for discipline and hungering for the intense orgasms he’d conditioned her body to need.
“Very well.” The housekeeper rose, still holding the ice pack to her head. “I’ll check on her in a moment. Will you be returning to the office?”
