by Sherri Hayes
“Thank you for letting me know,” I said. Even though he was not one of my favorite people, he’d just earned some points for putting Brianna’s safety first. “I won’t hide her. She’s been forced into seclusion too much already. I’m trying to get her used to people again, not create more fear.” He looked as if he were about to argue. I raised my hand to stop him. “One way or another, he’s going to find her. I can’t stop that and neither can you.”
“So what do we do?”
I found it rather ironic that the cocky bastard I was used to dealing with was nowhere in sight now. “You don’t do anything.”
“What?” he said, his voice rising as he stood again. “You can’t mean that.”
“I do,” I assured him. “Anything you do is going to draw attention. That would not be helpful.” He didn’t seem to like that answer, but I hoped for Brianna’s sake that he’d listen.
He didn’t say much after that, although his mouth opened and shut like a fish several times. After a few minutes, he turned on his heel and left.
I leaned back in my chair, contemplating his visit. I was glad he appeared to be putting his attitude aside in order to protect Brianna, but I still didn’t like him, and I didn’t fully trust him either. I hoped that he kept his promise and didn’t tell Jonathan Reeves how to find his daughter.
Glancing at the clock, I reached for the phone and dialed Oscar. My lawyer needed to know of this new development. I also wanted to find out if his private investigator had dug up any more information.
“Davis and Associates.”
“This is Stephan Coleman. Is Oscar available?”
“Let me check, Mr. Coleman.”
Not five seconds later, the phone clicked and Oscar was on the line. “Good morning, Mr. Coleman.”
“Hello, Oscar. I wanted to see if you’d found out any new information.”
He sighed. “Not much. Mr. Pierce likes to cover his tracks. I found several transactions between him and Mr. Dumas. However, they all look legit, at least on the surface. Dumas appears to be the weaker link, as we’ve found a few holes in his books and we’re exploring them to see if they lead anywhere.”
“What about Jonathan Reeves?”
“Other than some recent Internet searches and an increase in phone calls from both his residences and his office, nothing has changed. I can’t find any evidence of illegal activity other than the gambling I told you about before.”
“Who’s he been calling?”
“Most of the calls have been to fellow law enforcement, some of which are here in Minneapolis. There have also been several calls to Cal Ross. Do you want me to look into him further?”
“Not at the moment, no. I need you to continue looking into Pierce. There has to be something there. No one is involved in human trafficking and leaves no trail. We just have to find it.”
“You do know that you could get pulled into any investigation, given the rather large transaction you made with him recently?”
“I’m aware of that. We’ll deal with it when it becomes necessary.” There was one other thing I wanted to make sure he was aware of before I let him go. “You should also know that Jonathan Reeves is currently in town looking for Brianna. I don’t know where he’s staying, but I’m sure your guy could find out.”
As soon as I hung up with Oscar, I called Tom. All nonresident traffic had to pass by him in order to enter my building. He was very good at denying access, but I needed more than that. If Jonathan Reeves showed up, I wanted to be notified immediately.
After my call to Tom, I walked the short distance to the window that separated my office from the Minneapolis skyline. My office was one of the taller ones in the city, affording me an unobstructed view of the tops of several other buildings. I couldn’t see my condo from here, and for the first time I questioned my choice of residence. Maybe I should have found something closer, within walking distance.
I knew I was being irrational. Brianna was fine. She was safe in my condo. Tom was manning the front desk, and he was notifying security as well, just to be safe. That was his suggestion, not mine. It seemed he was also rather protective of Brianna.
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my phone and dialed before I could stop myself.
It rang twice before her voice came across the line. “Hello, Sir,” she whispered, the happiness in her voice coming through the phone.
“Hello, Brianna. How’s your morning so far?”
Brianna
Last night’s shower was nice, until he tried to put his fingers inside me again. I’d felt a tightening in my chest and it was harder to breath. Why did this keep happening, and how did I fix it?
Stephan made sure I knew he wasn’t upset with me for freezing again. I still felt bad. This was something I wanted.
As he’d held me last night in my bed, he’d assured me we’d figure it out and everything would be fine. He’d reminded me of how far we’d already come, and that it was just taking time to get there given what I’d been through, and that was okay. I could tell he was frustrated, even though he tried not to let me see. He was always taking care of me, putting my needs first. Thinking about how much he’d done for me—how he’d cared for me, guided me through my panic—brought a warm feeling like none I’d felt before.
I was happy when he called. It was hard to explain how much I missed him when he was at work, even though he always reminded me he was only a phone call away.
“Go to the window, Brianna. Look out, across the buildings. Do you see the tall one to your right? I’m right on the other side.”
Even though I’d been to his office before, I’d never once thought of where it was physically in relation to where he lived. It was nice knowing. I just wished I could see his building. I could pretend that I could see him, too, and maybe he wouldn’t feel so far away.
He talked to me until finally he said he had a meeting he couldn’t miss. Maybe it was silly, but it made me get that tingly feeling inside knowing he didn’t want to hang up with me either. It was hard to think he might be feeling the same way about me as I did about him. I mean, I was still broken in many ways. What did I really have to offer him? I couldn’t even let him touch me how he wanted to.
I decided to make him a nice meal for dinner. My mom used to spend hours in the kitchen baking with me before she’d gotten sick. John seemed to enjoy my culinary skills, although he didn’t comment much on anything unless it was to tell me I couldn’t do something or go somewhere.
Thinking about my father brought me up short. He’d find me. I knew he would. It might take him days or weeks, but it was inevitable. I just didn’t understand why he’d want to. Did he know I was free now? Is that why he was tracking me down, to make sure I went back to a master that would punish me?
All my kitchen pursuits were forgotten as I slid to the floor clutching my chest. No. Stephan wouldn’t let him take me. He . . . he couldn’t make me leave. He couldn’t . . . Air ripped harshly through my lungs as I tried to catch my breath, but all it did was rush right back out, not giving me the oxygen I needed. Stephan. I needed Stephan.
There was no way I could stand. My legs felt heavy, and not in the good way they did after Stephan touched me. It felt as if there were weights attached to them as I crawled across the floor toward my cell phone.
I was having trouble seeing. Everything was blurred through my tears. Wiping them away did no good. My eyes just filled again with moisture, blocking my sight as quickly as I removed it.
Pain surged in my shoulder as I bumped into the end table beside the couch. I nearly gave up and just let the panic take me. It would be easy to let go and let reality fade around me, but that wasn’t what I really wanted, and I knew he expected more of me, too.
My hand finally found what it was looking for, and I blindly hit the number one on the speed dial. “Brianna?” His voice allowed me to take my first haggard breath. “Tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“I . . . I need you,” I choked ou
t.
“I’m on my way. You stay on the line with me. Keep talking. Where are you?”
“Home.”
“Where are you at home?” he asked. I could hear him moving around, people passing by him. Then I heard the ding of an elevator, and I knew he really was on his way. He was dropping everything for me . . . again. I should feel guilty about that, but I needed him too much.
“Living room.”
“Are you able to walk?”
“I don’t know. My legs . . . they feel . . . heavy.”
“Okay. Just stay where you are then. I want you to lie back and close your eyes.” I did what he said, feeling the soft plush of the carpet against the back of my head. “Take a deep breath in and hold it.” I tried, but it still felt as if I was gasping. “Now let it out.” A loud gushing sound escaped my lips as I released the breath I’d been trying to hold. “Good. Again. Deep breath in, and hold it. Now release.” With every word, every breath, I felt myself calming, my breathing coming back to normal. “Good girl. Keep breathing. Slow and deep. You’re doing well, Brianna.”
I felt that warmth again at his praise. He kept talking me through my breathing until I heard the door open and him calling my name. “Here,” I said, loud enough that he could hear me.
His face came into view, and I smiled as he lowered the phone from his ear and knelt down beside me. He pulled me into his arms, rocking me. The feel of his solid arms around me was the last thing I needed to relax completely. He was here, and all was right.
After a few minutes, he began to shift us. I held on tight, not wanting to let go. “Shh. It’s okay. I’m just moving us to the chair.” I nodded, burying my face on his shoulder as he picked us both up enough to sit onto his chair. His hands stroked my arms, and his fingers played with my hair just the way I liked it. “Tell me what happened.”
“I was going to make you a nice dinner. You’ve been so good to me and I can’t . . . I can’t give you what you want.”
“All in good time,” he said, kissing my forehead. “That couldn’t have been what sent you into a panic, though. We’ve talked about this. It will happen. We just have to keep working at it.”
“I know,” I said, taking advantage of how safe I felt here in his arms, in his chair. “It was . . . I started thinking how I used to bake with my mom and then . . . then how it was cooking for . . . John.” His arms tightened around me. “I don’t know why he’s looking for me. What’s going to happen when he finds me?”
His mouth rested against my temple, and I could feel his breath as he spoke. “I don’t know why he’s looking for you either, Brianna. I don’t think we’re going to know until the time comes. As to what’s going to happen . . . I don’t know that either. We’re going to have to deal with it the best we can when it occurs.” He paused. “I found out today that your father is in town.” A whimper escaped my lips, and my hands balled into fists, clutching the suit jacket he was still wearing. He lovingly caressed my face as he pressed me against his chest. “If you see him, even at a distance, you are to call me right away.”
I nodded and continued to hold tight to him. He was my lifeline, and I was pretty sure he always would be. There was no place I felt safer than when he held me in his arms like this. Sometimes I just wanted to stay here, in his chair, and never leave. The outside world could melt away, and I wouldn’t care.
“You said you’d been about to make dinner. What was on the menu?” he asked, and I knew he was trying to distract me from my thoughts.
“Chicken parmesan. I was going to try and remember the recipe my mom used to make.”
“Are you feeling up to making it?”
I was torn. The original thought behind making it was a thank you to him for everything. It was a small thing, but even the small things I did for him seemed to make him happy. Another part of me wanted to stay in his chair all night. Cooking would mean leaving the perfect place we were in.
Guilt, however, won out. “Yes.” I’m sure my voice didn’t sound very confident.
“Come on, then,” he said, patting my leg. “I’ll help you. You can put me to work.”
We spent the next hour and a half in the kitchen working on dinner. The area felt smaller with him working beside me, but in a good way. He always took every opportunity to touch me, in little ways, when we worked together like this. I liked it.
He was working on prepping vegetables for the salad while I began breading the chicken. Every time I glanced up, he was looking at me. I had no idea how he wasn’t cutting himself with the knife since he didn’t seem to be paying much attention to what he was doing. I noticed a smile pulling at his lips.
He picked up a disfigured carrot, examining it as if it would tell him some secret he didn’t know. Placing the carrot on the counter, he came up behind me. He wrapped his arms around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder. “What do you think?” he asked, nodding toward the strangely shaped vegetable.
It had one top, but two legs and they were twisted around each other. “I didn’t know they could grow that way. I wonder why it has two instead of one?”
He moved my hair out of the way and kissed my neck. “It reminds me of you when you’re sleeping, how your legs get tangled up in the sheets.”
“It does?” I asked, looking at the odd carrot again. It did kind of look like two legs intertwined.
“Yes. You have very nice legs, Brianna.”
The room suddenly felt really warm, and it had nothing to do with the heat coming from the stove. He’d helped me cook a few times in the past, and it wasn’t unusual for him to kiss or hold me now and then in between. In fact, it was normal. He always seemed to go out of his way to look for excuses to touch me. This was the first time, however, that he’d taken it to a sexual place. I was anxious, but not in a bad way.
His hand slid from my waist down the front of my jeans to the apex of my thighs. “Mm. Warm,” he whispered, running his hands along the inseam of my jeans.
I sank back into his chest, enjoying the feel of him behind me, around me. My earlier afternoon stress faded away as I tried to concentrate on not making a mess with my egg-covered hands. The only thing I could think about was how good he felt, and how good he made me feel.
“How are you feeling?”
“Warm,” I answered honestly.
He chuckled. “Are you prepared for tonight?” His fingers followed my hipbone and then up to the top of my jeans until they were tickling my skin beneath.
“Yes,” I breathed.
“Good. So am I.” He stepped back then, letting go of me.
I felt the loss immediately and from the look on his face, he’d had to force himself to stop. It made me smile. I still didn’t know what he saw in me and why he was willing to deal with all my issues, but I was grateful. I loved being with him.
Brianna
Dinner was just as I’d hoped. He complimented me on the delicious meal even though he’d help make it. I smiled, and blushed, under his praise. It felt good to do these small things for him.
After dinner, he told me to get my night things and meet him in his room instead of his chair. I was a little disappointed about missing time in his chair, but I was hoping that meant that we’d be doing more physical exploration tonight. It was early, though; only about seven.
When I entered his bedroom with my pajamas clasped against my chest, he stood fully clothed near his bed. He’d removed his jacket, tie, and shoes, but other than that, he was still dressed. I guessed we wouldn’t be taking our shower yet.
“Come,” he said, holding out his hand. I walked over to stand in front of him. He took the clothes out of my hands and placed them behind him on the nightstand. “Lie down on the bed.”
I felt the beginning of my nerves start to build. This was new. His bed had always been off limits. My knees sunk into the mattress as I crawled onto the bed and lay down as instructed.
He followed, hovering over me for a second before lying beside me. “You okay?”
/> I nodded. Nervous, but I always was if we were trying something new.
“We’re only going to go as far as you’re comfortable with tonight, Brianna. I know the last time we were in a bed things didn’t end well, but we’ve come a long way since then. For tonight, think of this as my chair. You are to speak freely. Tell me if something is bothering you, or doesn’t feel right.”
“Okay.”
He smiled, reaching up to run his hand down my hair. “I was thinking about you today in my meeting.”
“You were?” I couldn’t imagine why he’d be thinking of me during one of his meetings.
“Yes. We get appeals sometimes direct from families. We usually try to connect them to the hospital that can best help them. There was one today for a little girl. She looked a lot like you with her dark brown hair and blue eyes. I wondered what you looked like when you were little.” He rested his head on his hand and used his free one to continue to play with my hair.
I leaned into him, starting to relax. “I was normal, I think. I liked to play with dolls and help my mom bake cookies. For my eighth birthday, I begged Mom for a pony,” I said, remembering.
“Something we have in common.” His fingers brushed against my collarbone. They were distracting.
“You wanted a pony, too?” I asked, trying to concentrate on what he was saying.
“A horse, yes. I was thirteen, and a friend of mine at the time had started riding. I thought it was very cool.” He shrugged. “After a lot of bargaining on my part, my parents bought me one for my fourteenth birthday. Xavier was the center of my world until my parents died.” He looked down at me, his eyes serious. “He was the reason I wasn’t with them when they died. I’d insisted on staying home to take care of him.” His eyes got a far off look to them as he spoke. “If I’d gone with them like they’d wanted me to, I wouldn’t be here.”
I had a sudden need to be close to him, to comfort him as he had me so many times. My arms circled his neck as I hugged him. He held on tight.
His lips brushed against my ear, placing soft kisses along my hairline. “How is it I can tell you these things when I can’t seem to talk about it with anyone else?” he mused. It came across more of an observation rather than something he was seeking the answer to, so I didn’t respond. Instead, I continued to hold him, enjoying the closeness.
