by Lynda Aicher
“It was on the computer. It concerned you, and I knew your honor wouldn’t let you. So yeah, I looked. I figured if you had someone go through the trouble of getting the info, there must be a reason.”
He didn’t know if he wanted to kill the man or beg for the file details. Yes, he’d had Rock do a detailed, mostly illegal gathering of Kendra’s history, but Deklan respected her enough to not look at the file himself. He’d wanted her to tell him, just like she had. But how much had she left out?
“Fuck.” He spun and pounded his fist into the drywall, pulling up just enough not to punch through. Did he trust her completely? That’s exactly what Seth was challenging him to confront. Deklan would give his life for her, but was his faith in her strong enough to accept that she’d do the same for him?
That she might just love him enough to fight for him?
They’d never spoken words of love through all they’d exchanged yesterday. He’d assumed it was understood, that their connection spoke for itself and their actions proved it. If that was true, then he had no choice but to believe in her. Trust that she knew what she was doing and she’d come back.
That still didn’t mean he couldn’t be there for her.
Damn it. He had to do something.
“I pulled all the important info from the file.” Deklan turned around as Seth walked back to the coffee table and picked up a manila folder. He flipped through the papers too fast to be truly reading them. “What you need is all here. Including everything about her asshole ex.” He closed the file and held it out to Deklan. “You can’t help her confront her past, but you can sure as hell make sure the dick pays for what he’s done.”
Deklan grinned, the vindictive sense of satisfaction settling in his chest. He took the folder, eternally grateful for his friend he called brother. “Thank you,” he managed to say around his tight throat. “I’m still pissed. But thanks.”
“I got your back. Always have.”
“Right.” Deklan tucked the folder under his arm, slipped his boots on and straightened to catch Seth watching him, concern marring his face. The bare truth of his words touched at Deklan. There were very few in his life that would dare to challenge him the way Seth had and still be there for him.
Deklan leveled a meaningful stare at the other man. “Sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”
“No problem,” Seth answered after a short pause, a grin playing on his lips. “I could’ve taken you if I wanted.”
“Only if I let you,” Deklan joked back, relieved that his irrational temper hadn’t harmed their friendship.
“Dream on,” Seth chuckled before pointing toward the file under Deklan’s arm. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
Deklan nodded and left, a sense of urgency pushing him to hurry. Having no patience for the elevator, he thundered down the stairwell, the loud clump of his step banging off the narrow walls.
The door of the security room slammed against the wall when he shoved through. Rock’s gaze shot up, but the man didn’t move other than to track Deklan’s movements as he tossed the folder on the counter and sank into the other chair.
Deklan tore open the file and dug into the information Seth had printed. The sound of the papers flipping were meshed with the occasional click of computer keys as the security head resumed his work.
The steely years of military-ingrained focus held him in the chair. His driving need to be with Kendra was only just contained. The tight twist of pain traveled up the back of his skull screaming how fucked he was.
He would be there for her, damn it. This he could do, and fuck if it made her mad. Eric would pay for every sadistic thing he’d done to her.
He was almost through the papers when a coffee cup appeared at his elbow, the scent of the brew breaking into his concentration.
“Thought you could use it,” Rock said, indicating the coffee. He took a sip of his own cup, his pale eyes lingering on the folder in front of Deklan. Rock had more than proven his loyalty through years of battle and covert operations, the long scar running from his brow to his jaw proof of his dedication. He’d been one of Deklan’s best men while in the service. He still was.
Deklan sat back and picked up the steaming mug. “Thanks.”
“Ready to deal with that?” Rock pointed to the papers. Since he’d been the one to collect the data, Deklan didn’t question what he meant.
“Yeah.” He looked up. “You willing to help?”
“You have to ask?”
“It’s not the service. You have a choice.”
“What do you need me to do?”
Straightening, Deklan set his coffee down. “Pull up a chair. Let’s get this done.”
Showing what could at best be called a smile but came across more like a scowl, Rock complied. Eric would be sorry he ever messed with Kendra when they were finished with him.
Of that, Deklan was certain.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The richly appointed room was as stifling as Kendra remembered. The high bookshelves along one wall were stuffed with leather-bound tomes to impress and, coupled with the large wood desk in the corner, marked the room as the study. There was a gas fireplace along another wall, but it was dark now, leaving the large space as chilled as the cool tones that complemented. An elegant sitting area was arranged in the middle of the room, not that any of the furniture encouraged curling up with one of the many books.
She paced across the plush carpet, running her hand over her cotton shirt in a hopeless pass at smoothing out the travel wrinkles. She’d driven straight to her parents’ house, the eight-hour trip great for solidifying her determination, but also allowing for a boatload of nerves to pile up. Having arrived unannounced around six, she was now waiting for her parents to get home.
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”
Kendra snapped around at the sound of the maid/butler/cook. The older lady had been with the family for years, not that she ever broke decorum with any of them. She took her job seriously, as noted by the severe bun trapping her gray hair, pressed apron and demure slacks.
Forcing a smile, Kendra declined. “Thanks, Susan. I’m good.” The thought of putting anything in her stomach only made it tighten and curl in anticipated dread.
“Mr. Morgan is usually home within the hour. I believe Mrs. Morgan will be with him.” Susan backed out of the room. “Let me know if there is anything I can get you.” It didn’t matter to the woman that Kendra could get it herself. That she’d been raised in this house and was perfectly capable of getting her own drink or food. Susan ruled the roost when it came to all things domestic.
The door clicked closed so quietly the sound was only audible due to the complete lack of other noise in the house. The large six-bedroom home felt almost like a tomb. Kendra gave a shake, the chill running down her spine at the sense of foreboding that came with the thought.
Crossing to the window, she pulled back the sheer drapes to look at the street as if watching the road would make her parents appear faster. Then again, she wasn’t really sure she wanted them to show up. A lone street lamp provided a pale circle of light in the darkening night, highlighting the fact that the private drive in the gated community wasn’t a hotbed of activity. The storm that had hammered Minneapolis only brushed by Chicago, so just a few small traces of the late snow remained on the lawn.
She cursed softly before turning away from the desolate sight. Exhaustion forced her to give in and drop into a stiff-backed chair. She wished like hell for the secondhand eyesore of a chair that swallowed her whole back in her condo. She could really do with sinking into the overstuffed cushions and forgetting everything.
Wiggling around trying to get comfortable in the piece of furniture she was certain cost more than everything she owned only proved to her once again that money didn’t guarantee comfort. As if she’d ever believed that. The only thing money had ever guaranteed for her was loneliness.
And didn’t that sound as pathetic as it wa
s. Poor little rich girl—a story told and retold too many times to make it endearing.
Stop it. I’m better than that, she admonished, her hands fisting until her nails dug into her palms. Deklan had helped her to see that. He’d helped her to see a lot of things. Namely what she had to do tonight. There was only one way to stop Eric, and that was to take away the power he held over her. The man wasn’t going stop unless she stopped him first.
Taking a deep breath, she pulled out her phone to check for messages one more time. Nothing. She’d expected Deklan to leave some kind of remark. He couldn’t have taken her disappearance well. He wasn’t the kind of guy to just sit back, which was why she’d had to leave in the first place. Confronting her parents was something she had to do on her own. Even if the thought froze her to the bone.
But complete silence from the formidable man was more unsettling than an angry voicemail or confrontational text. She could only hope that she hadn’t ruined the one good thing she’d found in her life. Well, not the only one. She’d never be that dependent on a man for her happiness ever again. But Deklan was definitely a solid component in her future. One she didn’t want to lose now that she’d found him.
Her pulse increased just thinking about the day before. The connection she had with the strong Dom was nothing compared to the love she had for the man. It was hard to determine exactly when she’d fallen in love with him. Maybe it was that first night, when he’d been so patient and understanding. Or it could have been during their long runs together, when he was simply there by her side, their breath and pace matching as if they’d been running partners for years. More likely it was during one of the many Scenes they’d done together, where he’d shown her repeatedly how submission was about power, not weakness, and her masochistic desires were okay. Maybe not normal, but not wrong.
She couldn’t analyze it down to a specific moment or event, didn’t want to. It was the whole man she loved. The man she was pretty certain very few people got to see.
Now she just had to get through the evening so she could tell him that and hope he understood why she’d had to run from him before she could run to him.
* * *
Deklan shifted his truck into park and turned off the engine, the silence of the night settling around him. The little clinks and pings that emanated from the cooling engine were the only noise to break the darkness. The urge to shift in the seat was easily squelched by years of training. It didn’t matter if his ass was numb from driving for seven hours; he’d endured much worse without fidgeting.
He would have made it in six hours, but he’d forced himself to slow down after sneaking past the first cop. Getting thrown in jail for speeding wouldn’t help Kendra.
Scanning the quiet street, he waited another minute before finally grabbing his phone. The last text from Rock let him know that their plan was underway. Having extended connections in the Chicago area was one of the benefits of his military service. Calling in favors had been an easy decision to make. There wasn’t anything Deklan wouldn’t do for Kendra.
A vindictive smile curled over his lips when he saw the pictures that were waiting for him. Bet Eric never saw that coming. Bastard. He deserved far worse than being subjugated to his own cruelty. The series of images showing Eric blindfolded, bound, gagged, whipped and humiliated still weren’t enough to dull his anger. Deklan would be sure to send a special thanks to the club owner for letting his men show Eric exactly how it felt to be abused by someone stronger under the guise of dominance and submission.
Deklan sent off a quick response then sent another text to Rock, inquiring on the status of the other task. The man might come across as a dumb jock or a muscled meathead, but Deklan had yet to meet anyone who was a better computer whiz than Rock. He could hack his way into the White House and get out without being caught if he wanted to.
Temptation had his fingers poised over the phone ready to send one more message before he curbed the urge and tucked the object back in his pocket. He exited the truck, keeping his goal in mind. Ducking into the shadows, he scanned the tree-lined street, double-checking for unseen eyes before leaping up to grab the top of the metal fence enclosing the private community.
Vaulting over the supposed security barrier was incredibly easy for a guy who was used to sneaking into terrorist camps. According to the maps he and Rock had analyzed, the guise of safety the rich and privileged paid for within the confines of the metal fence and guard house was really nothing more than the pretense they all hid behind.
It didn’t take him long to reach the house of one Thomas and Eleanor Morgan. The tightness in his chest eased a little when he spotted Kendra’s old-model blue sedan, completely out of place in the long driveway. The meticulous landscape and oversized house couldn’t be further from his upbringing. The two-bedroom shack with paint-chipped siding and an overgrown yard that cultivated more weeds than grass that he’d once called home could’ve fit in the Morgan’s garage with room to spare.
He could never give Kendra this kind of luxury. But he could give her the security and love she’d never felt here.
Stepping into the glow of the lone streetlight, Deklan pulled out his phone and finally sent the text he’d been wanting to send since he’d found Kendra gone that morning. He leaned against the cold, metal pole, preparing to wait. He’d stay out there all night if that was what Kendra needed. Waiting, he could do. Even if it killed him to stand outside, knowing what she was facing inside.
No matter what happened, he wasn’t leaving until he was positive she was all right. And he could only hope that she’d be leaving with him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
She wasn’t certain how long she forced herself to sit in the god-awful chair, the sense of time having slipped away from her as she tried once again to form the words that she would say to her parents. It didn’t matter that she’d been doing that exact same thing since she woke up that morning; the words still weren’t there.
The click of the door opening rocked through the room like a bullet. Kendra jumped and stood, clasping her hands before her to keep them still.
“Kendra.” Her mother’s excited voice filled Kendra with a brief dose of warmth before she took in the stilted smile and sharp reprimand that was forming in the woman’s eyes.
“Mother,” Kendra said stiffly, her gaze scanning to the man entering behind her well-groomed mother. “Father.”
He shut the door without responding, the slight scowl in his brow the only giveaway to his feeling on Kendra’s surprise visit. Her mother glided over to give her a light hug and peck on the cheek, like she hadn’t been basically missing for the last ten months.
Stepping back, her mother executed a slow appraisal over Kendra, every critical judgment showing on her face before she pasted on a stiff smile and patted Kendra’s arm. “It’s good that you’re home. We can go shopping tomorrow. I’ll call Mel and get you in for an appointment, too.” She lifted her hand but stopped, as if Kendra’s hair was too ugly to actually touch. “Yes, well. That man can do wonders.”
Kendra suppressed a sigh and stepped away, reminding herself why she was there. She’d given up on gaining her parents’ acceptance or approval back when she’d decided to run from Eric. Now she was here for herself. And them, once they understood why she’d had to come back at all. Maybe that would garner some favor from her parents, but it wasn’t likely to make up for the humiliation she’d have to endure first.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket and her heart skipped a beat. She warred with the instant desire to yank it out, but she couldn’t handle it now if the message was bad. Losing Deklan right then would crush her remaining resolve.
Her father cleared his throat as he turned from the bar inlaid within the bookshelf on the far side of the room. “Can I get you something?”
Kendra shook her head while her father didn’t even ask her mother. Eleanor always had the same glass of Pinot Gris, as if altering the choice would disrupt her smoothly laid-out life. As for Thoma
s, his preference was scotch on the rocks, a man’s drink for the hard-cut businessman image he always projected.
“So what brings you here?” her father asked as he handed the glass of wine to his wife. No are you okay? or, where have you been? just, why are you disturbing our evening? She shouldn’t have expected anything different, yet she’d still held out a slim hope that they might actually care enough to ask.
A weak smile curved over her lips at her own foolishness.
“I need to talk to both of you,” she said, taking a seat in the torture chair from earlier. She had little option, since they’d taken seats on the matching sofa across from her. It was expected that she’d sit, so she did if only to make the conversation easier. Like sitting down would do that.
“After ten months of silence, you decide now is the time to talk to us?” Her father arched a brow, but it wasn’t really a question as much as an accusation. The sprigs of gray that had dared to overtake his black hair a few years back only made him appear more intimidating and seemed to complement the prominent creases at the corners of his eyes.
“I needed the time to find myself.” She looked down at her hands. “I told you that when I left.”
“And did it work?” The doubt was heavy in her mother’s voice. Her pointed scan over Kendra indicated that her mother didn’t think so.
She resisted the urge to pull the quilted vest she wore closed, like that could hide the discount label on her clothing. Plowing ahead, she swallowed back the angry retort with a slow breath, pleased that her voice showed none of her inner turmoil when she spoke. At least she’d learned one thing of value from her mother. “Yes. In fact, it did.” Just saying the truthful words made her spine straighten, her chin coming up with pride. “For the first time in my life I can honestly say I accept who I am. It might not be who you want me to be, but I’m happy with who I am.”
