"You shouldn't have had to go through what he put you through."
She shrugged. "He was supposed to be a good man who wanted nothing more than to help me. All he supposedly asked for in return was cleaning. He was supposed to be better than the others, but he was no better than...It does not matter now."
"How can you say that?"
"He was not good to me. You are good to me. I stay here now."
She said those words so simply, as if the situation had been simple. Then he realized, compared to whatever she had suffered before she came to America Mr. Olander's company probably ranked low on the hell-scale.
"You should go back to bed. It's," she looked at the clock. "Two in the morning and you have to work earlier today."
"You're right," he groaned. "Nine to seven." He loved his job even if he didn't always love the hours.
"You try to get some sleep too," he finally said. What he wouldn't have given to hold her in his arms all night, but he couldn't, not yet.
***
"Nefi look." Tayla held up her latest drawing of yet another wildly distorted peach.
"Ah ha! I knew you would warm to my nickname." She laughed as Tayla frowned.
"I can't believe I called you that."
"I like it." She laughed again. She wiped down the counter after washing the morning dishes.
The doorbell rang and Drake went to answer it. Mrs. Masters called out for Tayla as she walked down the hall carrying gifts. Drake had complained the last time that his mother was spoiling Tayla, but she apparently didn't think so.
"I would have brought this over last night, but your father and I got back from Miami later than expected." She handed Tayla one gift bag and then held the other out to Nefertiti.” This made me think of you."
He watched Nefertiti take the bag from his mother. She sat it on the table and pulled the glass pyramid out of the bag. "The temple at Karnack. Valley of the Kings," she pointed to the etchings inside the glass as she named each location. Then, she tipped the glass upside down and back and watched the sand float around. "Sandstorm," she beamed as she giggled. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Masters."
"You like sandstorms?" Drake's eyebrows lifted in query.
"I love them. We were stuck in one once when I was digging with my father here," she pointed to the Valley of the Kings. "I was only eight, but he made it an adventure. It was like ancient Egypt had come to life and I wasn't afraid. Father is the only one who has ever been able to calm me. He..." her voice trailed off as she turned her attention to the television.
"Father?" She walked closer. Drake focused in. The anchor was saying something about disturbing images as a man splashed a bucket of what Drake thought to be water on the man and then the woman. When he saw the match he knew. He searched for the control, but it was too late. The moment the match hit the ground so did Nefertiti's gift. It shattered to pieces as her father burst into flames. Her hands went to her mouth and she fell to the floor. The he heard the screams of the woman. Tayla had turned into her grandmother’s embrace, but Nefertiti seemed to watch in horror, unable to turn away from the tragedy unfolding before her eyes.
"Where's the control," he yelled. Deciding he couldn't wait until he found it he yanked the chord from the plug, nearly knocking the television onto the floor.
"No," she cried as her body went limp on the floor. He couldn't understand how they could show an execution on the morning news. No, he could. It was about ratings and that one minute clip had just boosted them to the top.
He pulled Nefertiti up, but she was barely able to stand and she fell back to her knees, sobbing and gagging and then she threw up on the floor and on herself.
"I'll stay here today," his mother said as he scooped Nefertiti into his arms. He wished he could stay there with her, but he couldn't. It had hit the fan and he still had to go pull a ten hour shift.
"Thanks," he mumbled as he carried her upstairs.
By the time he placed her on the bed she had stopped crying. She just sat there and stared into space as if he weren't there. "Change your blouse," he said, but she didn't move. He went into the closet and pulled out a light blue sweater top. "Come on." He handed her the top hoping she'd make an effort, but instead of changing she simply pressed the top to her breasts. He needed her to get her puke-stained blouse off, not cover the other one in it too.
He tried to take it from her, but she turned away from him and curled into a fetal position on the bed.
"My mother will watch Tayla," he said quietly before leaving her alone. By the time he returned to the kitchen his mother had already cleaned up the glass and puke. Tayla sat at the table crying.
"Why did they do that, Daddy?"
He didn't know, but he wished he did. "I don't know. I just don't know."
"Check in on her for me, Mom. Take her up some food later."
"I will. You just focus on work. We'll be okay here."
He looked at Tayla who was still crying and then back to the hallway.
"You have a job to do. I can manage things here." His mother was the voice of reason to the chaotic emotions he was feeling now. He wanted to stay with her, to help her, but he couldn’t.
He wasn't sure he wanted to do that job today, but he would. He placed a soft kiss on Tayla's forehead and patted her back. "I'll be home right after my shift. I promise."
She wiped tears from her cheeks and feebly said, "Okay."
Drake checked in at his station. Only a few people knew he had hired Nefertiti. His boss, Hank Lancaster had helped him secure the work visa, his team-mate Danny Kincaid, and Jack Barnes, his old mentor. Danny was the first to approach him.
"How is she?"
"She just saw her parents burned alive on television. How do you think she is?" His friend held up his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry. I'm just pissed that I had to leave her like that."
"I get it. You probably missed the part on the news where they said they believe the daughter might be in the states on a work visa."
"Oh crap.” It wouldn't take long for the vultures to go on the hunt. He could protect her at his place. He worked undercover a lot and no media outlet was allowed to show his face on camera. His property was private. But if she wanted a normal life of going out freely she wasn't going to get it until she was no longer the story. "Lousy bastards!"
"FCC is looking into the station and from what I hear there's going to be a fine. Maybe even some new regulation hearings."
It didn't make a difference. The damage was already done. He made himself a promise right then and there that he wouldn't allow Nefertiti to be sent back. He had seen people deported before. He had seen them pleading while being taken kicking and screaming. He would put his badge on the line to protect her from ever having to go back. She had her work visa. He just needed to find a way to speed up citizenship.
He put in for a few days off. Nefertiti would need some time to heal and he wanted to be there for her. He needed to be there for Tayla too.
"Take four days," Hank countered. "I need you mentally alert. Pull your shift today and come back on Tuesday."
He was off Sundays anyway so he was only asking for Friday and Saturday, but he would take more. If somebody could have covered his shift he would have left right then and there, but they were already short staffed and he couldn't leave the team hanging with their load and his.
He pulled his shift and headed straight home. He wasn't surprised when his mother told him Nefertiti hadn't come down. He wasn’t surprised when she said she wouldn’t eat.
"She's still up there in the same clothes from this morning."
That hadn't surprised him either. He hadn't expected she had moved from the spot she was in when he left her. What did raise his concern level to a five on a scale from one to five was when Tayla said, "She reminds me of mom before she died. Is she going to die too, Dad?"
Tayla brushed a tear from her face. "Mom had us and she still died. Nefertiti doesn't have anybody left. Don’t let her die, Dad. Please?"
"I'll go check on her. Take her some food," he fixed a plate of cheeses and bread.
"She won't eat," Tayla said. "Just like mom."
He took the food anyway. As he went up the stairs he thought about the fragile woman in bed. He hoped Tayla's words had been overstated but when he saw Nefertiti curled in a fetal position, her shirt covered in her own vomit, and the color in her face already dull he knew Tayla wasn't wrong.
"Food."
"I'm not hungry." She turned over, turning her back to him.
"You need to eat."
She said nothing. She didn't even acknowledge his presence. He angrily walked back down to the kitchen.
"Told you."
He asked his mom to take Tayla for the weekend. He was going to help Nefertiti and he couldn’t do what he needed to do with Tayla there. She wanted to stay of course. He knew she was attached to her new nanny; they were more like best friends. "I need to help her and I can't do that with you here. She's not going to like me very much, but I promise you I'll have her back to us when you come back."
Reluctantly Tayla agreed, packed a bag and left with his mother. She would return Sunday after dinner and that would give him time, he hoped enough time, to help Nefertiti rejoin the land of the living.
After his mother left with Tayla he returned his attention to the matter at hand. He would be damned if he had to watch her die. He would not watch her just give up and die as Natalie had.
He all but stomped up the stairs to her room. "Go away," her feeble voice was low, but he heard her. "
"No," he stated as he pulled her out of the bed. She resisted him all the way to the shower, but that didn't stop him from dragging her there anyway.
He deposited her inside the glass enclosed walk-in shower and then turned the water on full force. It was cold, but quickly warmed.
She fell to the stone-tiled floor. "I want to die," she cried. "It's my fault please let me die."
Her words angered him. He pulled her to her feet. "Stand up," he barked. He started pulling off her wet clothes. Logic would have dictated he pull off her clothes, and his, before putting her in the shower, but logic wasn't the portion of his brain he was listening to.
Once he got her naked he took the soapy rag and started scrubbing her body. When he finished with her body he took the bar of soap and washed her hair. She stood there, naked, trembling and crying. Crying was good. Crying meant she was dealing, coping, and he need her to cope. She wasn't, however, assisting in the process of cleaning herself up.
He stepped out of the shower, his clothes dripping wet, and he toweled her off before depositing her, naked, on her bed. He went back in the bathroom and stripped his own wet clothes off, wrapped a dry towel around his waist and went into her closet. He found a thick white bath robe and he jerked it from the hanger.
“Stand up," he ordered and she complied. He slipped the robe on her body, securing it closed with a lose slip-knot to the tie. He guided her to the vanity table, pulled out her blow-dryer and a hairbrush and dried her hair. He didn't want her getting sick, especially not when she showed no signs of wanting to live. When he was finished he pulled her to her feet. "Down stairs," he took hold of her upper arm and forced her to walk forward.
When they reached the kitchen he plopped her in the chair before getting the plate of cheese out of the refrigerator. He added crackers and fruit this time before sitting the plate before her.
"I'm not hungry."
"I don't care. Eat," he commanded.
He watched her pick up a piece of the mild cheddar cheese and nibble on it. He didn't care if he had to sit there all night she wasn't leaving that table until he was satisfied she'd eaten enough.
Thankfully he didn't have to play warden. She was hungry and he knew it. She finished the piece of cheese and quickly stuck another in her mouth. "Easy," he said. "Don't rush."
She slowed and he watched her eat. Tears fell down her cheeks. He gave her a glass of Gatorade. She didn't like Gatorade and he knew that, but after not eating or drinking anything all day he figured Gatorade would replenish more than water alone.
"Whoa. Easy, baby." He placed his hand on her wrist and tried to slow the speed at which she was drinking.
She cleaned the plate of food and drank four glasses of Gatorade before looking in his eyes.
"Full?"
She shook her head yes.
"Good." He pushed the dishes aside. “Now we can talk."
"If I had stayed," she said. "Or gone back, he wouldn't have ordered them dead."
"Or you may have suffered the same fate."
"No. He wanted me...I would have lived. They would have lived."
"Or you could have gone back and he still would have killed them." His stomach churned thinking of the other possibility and that was her dying the same way. A man who would kill so easily, violently, was likely to take what he wanted and kill again.
"Why now? You've been gone for months."
She shrugged. "Aldir cannot be seen as weak. He probably ordered the execution as a warning to those who are still there."
"Kind of a don't cross me warning?"
"Yes."
He took her hand in his. "Your parents wanted you to be free, to live free." He placed his emphasis on live because he needed her to want to live. Natalie had given up on life, on him, after their baby died of SIDS. He couldn't lose another woman he loved the same way. And he did love Nefertiti. "If you give up on life now then they died for nothing. Don't let that happen."
A loud cry tore from her throat. He pulled her onto his lap, into his arms and held her, cradled her as she wept.
It was nearly midnight. They both needed sleep. He picked her up and carried her up the stairs to his bedroom. He pulled back the covers and helped her into his bed. "Sleep now, baby."
"Will you hold me?"
He walked around to the bed and crawled in behind her. He took her into his arms and the realization struck him, he was covered only by the towel and she was as naked as a jaybird under that bathrobe. He was also hard as a rock.
Chapter Four
Nefertiti awoke in Drake's arms. "What time is it?"
"Ten," he said evenly as if it were six or seven.
"Ten!" She tried to pull out of his arms, but he held her tighter.
"You were tired. I saw no need to wake you."
He had obviously been up for a while. He had on sweat pants which told her he'd gotten out of bed because when he got into bed he had on a towel only. "I have to go upstairs and brush my teeth..."
"There's a toothbrush for you in my bathroom."
"I have to get dressed."
"No you don't."
Well no, she supposed lounging around in a bathrobe wasn't as bad as lying around in clothes covered in vomit.
She eased out of his arms and went to the bathroom. He had taken care of her all night. He was forceful, yet tender. And she hadn't been mistaken that he called her baby. He was attractive, strong, sexy and kind and she liked him a lot. Being in his arms had felt right; even though she hated the events that had put her there she couldn't deny loving the feel of his bare chest beneath her cheek.
"You okay in there, baby?" He knocked on the door. She emerged and forced a shaky smile.
"Of course."
"You need to eat."
She wasn't hungry, but the look in his eyes told her he wouldn't tolerate rebellion. "Thank you for last night." She leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his lips. She had every intention of kissing his cheek, but her lips were on autopilot and the programming was set straight for his lips. She pulled back, ready to apologize if need be, but one look in his eyes and she knew there was no need for apologies.
He cupped the back of her head in his hand and pulled her closer before covering her mouth with his. He let his tongue dance with hers, so slowly, so softly, and she responded by wrapping her arms around him and rising on tip-toe to meet each sensual thrust.
This was what she wanted, what she need
ed. This connection to good could help her forget, even if only briefly, her pain. She could think of nobody better for her first time than Drake.
Slowly she unfolded her arms from around him, letting her hands brush down his smooth skin, over his back, his ribcage and his stomach as she kissed him deeply.
She found the knot in the tie of the robe and loosened it. Then she slid the robe from her shoulders and stretched her naked body against him.
He was the first to break the kiss. Pulling back only slightly, breathlessly he said, "Are you sure?"
"Yes," she whispered against his lips, brushing them softly with her own. "Please, touch me."
He didn't need much coaxing it was as if he was simply waiting for permission because with her one plea his control, that reserve he usually showed with her, broke. He reached his hands low and covered her butt, squeezing firm and pulling her toward him. She nearly jumped into his arms.
"Right where I want you, baby."
God, she needed to touch him, taste him, feel him deep inside of her. She slipped her hand inside the waistband of his sweat pants and covered his butt in kind. He was naked beneath and she couldn't wait to get him out of his pants and take a look at what she had been feeling.
He grabbed her hands, pulling her over toward the bed before shucking his own clothing. He was long, hard and thick.
Her eyes widened. She hadn't seen a penis before. She had no idea of their girth. "How will it fit?"
He chuckled and she realized; "I just said that out loud didn't I?"
"Yeah, you did." He rested his head against the pillow and then pulled her on top of him. "I'll let you set the pace."
She bit her lip, closed her eyes and eased her weight down on him. Her nails pressed into his chest. "Just give me a minute," she panted.
"Let me help you," he said through clenched teeth.
She was stretched wide and deep. She never imagined the pain.
"Relax," he urged her.
How could she relax? She wanted to rid herself of this intrusion, yet at the same time she wanted more. She began to rock slowly, riding him softly as he teased her clit. She lifted off him only slightly at first but then, as if controlled by primal instinct, she let go. Each time she allowed him deeper.
Maid for Hire & Educating Australia Page 3
