Convincing Leah (Surrender Book 9)

by Becca Jameson

  “Where is she?” I ask, my voice filled with warning. I cock my gun now too, emphasizing the seriousness of the situation.

  The asshole lifts both arms in the air. “Fuck.”

  “Yeah, fuck. You better not have harmed a hair on her head, dickface. Where the fuck is she?” I shout.

  He leans his head back and closes his eyes. “I wasn’t going to hurt her,” he whimpers.

  I doubt this man even owns a gun. He’s pitiful.

  I take one step closer. “I’m going to ask one more time. Where the fuck is she?” I tap his temple with my weapon.

  He winces and leans to the other side, only to brush against Blade’s gun. “Basement,” he stammers.

  Blade doesn’t move as I lower my gun, put the safety on, and tuck it in my waistband as I rush toward the stairs. I’d suspected as much. I take them three at a time. “Leah?” I shout.

  I get no response.

  I flip on the overhead lights when I hit the bottom of the stairs. “Leah,” I yell again as I glance around. The basement is finished. There are three doors leading to other rooms. I run toward the one with the key in the lock, tucking my gun in the back of my jeans.

  The moment I hear her sweet voice, my heart rate picks up. “Craig?”

  It takes me a moment to get the key to work. My hands are shaking badly. Finally, I turn the handle and the door flies open. Relief like I’ve never felt before fills my chest.

  My girl is sitting across the room on a twin bed, her back squished into the corner, her knees pulled up to her chest. Her face is red, with streaks of tears dried on her skin. All the lights are on.

  She bolts up, scrambles off the bed, and throws herself at me before I can fully trust my eyes.

  I wrap my arms around her and lift her off the ground, hugging her tightly.

  She starts crying uncontrollably, and I bend down to lift her into my arms, cradling her against my chest. “You’re okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.” I kiss her cheeks, wishing I could ease her distress, but I can’t. She’s spent an entire day here. She must be scared out of her mind.

  I thread my fingers in her hair and hold her as tight as I can without hurting her, gently rocking her back and forth. “Are you hurt?”

  She shakes her head.

  That’s all I need to know.

  “Let’s get out of here.” I turn around, pressing her face into my chest so she doesn’t have to see anything if she doesn’t want to. She’s going to be traumatized. She doesn’t need to add to it.

  When I reach the top of the stairs, I flip on the lights in the kitchen and glance at Blade. He hasn’t moved but he’s holding his cell to his ear with one hand. He nods toward the door.

  I exit with Leah in my arms. I can already hear sirens in the distance and Colton has pulled the SUV up closer to the house. He’s directly across the street.

  Eve opens the back door when she sees us coming, but I suspect Colton has reached over the seat and grabbed the back of her shirt to keep her from jumping out of the car.

  Leah is sobbing, deep cries mixed with gulps of air.

  Eve scoots her butt across the seat to the other side of the SUV, and I climb into the vehicle next to her, keeping Leah in my lap. Finally, I lean her back. “Look at me, sweetheart. It’s over.”

  She sucks in a breath, hiccupping. Her face is covered with tears, the new wet ones tracking down with the dried ones. “How did you find me?” she chokes out.

  I smile. “You know some amazing people.”

  She glances around, spotting Eve and Colton. “Was that Master Andres in the house?”

  “Yes.”

  Eve sets a hand on her friend’s shoulder, then strokes her hair.

  Leah looks at me again. “I didn’t listen to you.” She sobs again. “You said he could find me. I didn’t listen.” Her voice is rising.

  “Oh, sweetheart, you couldn’t have known. It was so far-fetched. If anything, I’m to blame for not taking it more seriously.”

  She shakes her head, but her entire body is trembling. “I can’t believe he actually came to my apartment and kidnapped me.” Another hiccup.

  “Did he do anything to harm you?” I ask again, looking her over closely.

  “No. Other than drug me when he came into my apartment. Gah. How could I be so stupid? I didn’t even look through the peephole. I just opened the door. I assumed he was a neighbor.” Another deep inhale, followed by a sob.

  She flings herself at me again, her arms going around my neck. “I knew you’d find me. I kept telling myself you would show up at the club, realize I was missing, find Eve, go to my apartment, get into my computer. I had it all worked out in my mind. I refused to let myself totally freak out until a full day went by.” Her words spill out so fast it’s hard to hear them all, but I get the gist.

  I smooth her hair back from her forehead. “You’re safe now.”

  Eve keeps her lips pursed, but she leans into her friend’s back and hugs her from the other side.

  Several police cars pull up.

  I rub Leah’s back. “The police are here, sweetheart. I know you’re in a state of shock, but they’re going to have a million questions.”

  She nods against me.

  “I’ll go talk to them,” Colton announces as he opens his car door. He turns to face Eve, giving her a stern look.

  She nods. “I know. I’ll stay in the car. I promise.” She sounds very young.

  Colton heads toward the pair of officers who are still getting out of their vehicle. The first pair has gone into the house. All the lights are on now. In fact, most of the lights in every house on the street are on now. Several people are on their front lawns. A few are staring at us.

  I press a kiss to the top of Leah’s head and close my eyes for a moment. It’s going to be a long night.

  Chapter 9

  Leah

  The sun is coming up when we finally pull into Craig’s garage the next morning. I’m exhausted. I’ve cried so much that I doubt there’s anything left inside me to ever be able to shed another tear in my life.

  Craig has never left my side. He’s rarely let go of my hand. Most of the time he kept an arm around me or even held me in his lap while I answered a thousand questions at the police station.

  I wanted to be strong, but I wasn’t. I couldn’t do it. Not today. Not this time. It’s like I’m all out of strong. Drained. I’m not sure when or if I’ll get it back.

  I’m in a daze from lack of sleep and fear. Craig tried to get me to drink water about ten times, but I haven’t had enough. I’m shaking so badly still that he has to come around to my side of the car, open the door, and unbuckle my seatbelt. I can’t even think to do that small part.

  How we ended up getting his SUV to get home from the police department is a mystery to me. I don’t even care. I’m limp and empty and nothing matters to me right now.

  Craig lifts me into his arms and carries me into the kitchen, shutting the garage door as we enter. He keeps going straight through to the master bedroom and into the bathroom. “I know you’re tired, sweetheart, but I think you’ll feel ten times better if you have a shower before you sleep.”

  I nod as he sets me on my feet. I’m wobbly.

  He doesn’t let go of me for an instant, not even as he reaches into the enclosure and turns on the water. A second later, he sits on the toilet seat, lifts me into his lap, and removes my shoes. I try to help, but it’s like my limbs aren’t accepting messages from my brain.

  It only takes him moments to undress me though, and he sits me on the toilet as he removes his own clothes, leaving his black boxer briefs on.

  I should be embarrassed. This should be awkward. But I’m too tired to care that he’s lifting me into the shower and leaning me under the spray of water. I don’t even care that I do very little but hold on to him while he washes my hair and then my body. He works quickly, but he even uses conditioner.

  The water is warm, almost too hot, which is perfect. I can’t stop s
hivering.

  When he’s satisfied, he turns off the water and lifts me back out onto the navy bath mat. He grabs a huge fluffy white towel and wraps it around me, patting me dry. He grabs a second smaller towel to wring out as much moisture as he can from my hair. He’s dripping wet, not caring about himself at all. Every ounce of his attention is on me.

  I was wrong. I can cry more. Tears slide down my cheeks. I’m not sure how I could have survived the last five hours without him. Hell, going back farther, I’m not sure when someone would have found me if it weren’t for him. I owe him my life.

  “Will your hair be okay if I don’t comb it out right now?” he asks.

  More tears fall as I nod.

  He wipes my face. “Sweetheart, why all these new tears?”

  I suck in a sob. “You’re being so nice.”

  He chuckles and then swings me up into his arms. “I’d like to spend my life being nice to you. I hope you don’t plan to cry every day.”

  I shift my gaze to him. He’s serious. I can’t even let that idea sink in. I’m overloaded with emotions right now. That revelation will have to take a back burner. A lot has happened in the last several hours, but none of it changes how different we are.

  Of course, what am I thinking? I’m not sure I care if we’re different. But I’m in no state of mind to ponder that today. I won’t be tomorrow either.

  Craig sits me on the edge of his bed. “Hang tight.” He releases me and pads across the room to open a drawer. Moments later, he’s back. “Arms up, sweetheart.”

  I lift my arms and let him pull his white T-shirt over my body. When he’s done, he tugs the towel out from under the shirt and uses it to dry himself as he returns to the bathroom. He’s back again in a flash, this time holding a glass of water and two pills.

  He hands them to me. “Ibuprofen. And drink all of this water. You’re dehydrated.”

  I take both from him and pop the pills in my mouth. My hand is shaking though, and the water is sloshing around.

  Craig steadies the glass with his hand, tipping it slowly back until I drain the contents.

  I blink up at him, feeling his strong Daddy vibes. Today I don’t care. I need him to coddle me. I wrap my hand around his, hoping to convey my thanks.

  He kisses my forehead, lingering for a bit before releasing me.

  I watch him move around in and out of the bathroom. He changes into dry briefs eventually and then closes the blinds, turns out the lights, and eases me onto my side, pulling the covers over me.

  I’m still shivering as he climbs up behind me and gives new meaning to the term spoon. This man has one leg over both of mine, an arm under my neck, and an arm wrapped around my middle. His hand is covering mine between my breasts. His lips are on my temple.

  “Take a few deep breaths, sweetheart.”

  I follow his instructions, inhaling slowly and exhaling after. I do it two more times, my body beginning to relax in his embrace.

  “That’s my girl. Keep breathing. I’ve got you. You’re safe. Rest.” His thumb strokes the back of my hand.

  I force myself to take several more deep breaths. “I was so scared,” I whisper.

  “I know, sweetheart. I was pretty damn scared myself.”

  “You found me.”

  I can feel his smile against my cheek. “Of course, I did. I wouldn’t have stopped until I did. I had a lot of help too. I couldn’t have found you that quickly without Blade and Colton. They have a damn lot of equipment in their office.”

  I flip my hand over and thread my fingers with his. “I’ll send them a thank you card,” I joke.

  He chuckles.

  “I’m still scared,” I admit timidly.

  “I know,” he whispers.

  “What if I can’t go back to my apartment? What if I can’t stay there alone? What if I’m fucked-up inside?”

  He strokes my arm. “You’ll stay here, and we’ll figure it all out together.”

  “I can’t stay here forever,” I point out.

  “Mmm. We can debate that later.”

  I sigh. Of course, he would say that. “I don’t want you to read too much into how I’m acting. My emotions are all over the place. I can’t focus. I’m still in shock. I’ve never in my life been little, but I feel it coming out of me. Please don’t take it as a sign of anything.”

  He freezes for a moment. “I fully understand, sweetheart. Don’t worry about that right now. Anyone would feel vulnerable after what you went through. But what do you mean when you say you’ve never been little? You weren’t born an adult.” His voice is teasing.

  I squeeze his hand. “Yes. I was.”

  He doesn’t breathe for several seconds, and then he hugs me closer. I’m glad he doesn’t ask more questions. I don’t have the energy to answer them. “Go to sleep, Leah. You’ll feel better after you get some rest.”

  I feel safe. Warm. Secure. This might be the first time in my life I’ve ever felt that way. It’s irrational on a day like today, and I’ll have to unpack these feelings another time, but for now, the sensations help me relax enough to drift off.

  Chapter 10

  Craig

  I have so many questions and they keep piling up as I wander aimlessly around my house. I only managed to sleep about four hours before sliding out of bed, careful not to disturb Leah.

  The poor girl was and still is exhausted. Every time I sneak back into my bedroom to check on her, I find her dead to the world. She hasn’t moved. She’s curled up on her side with her arms tucked up against her chest, breathing heavily.

  I probably shouldn’t have washed her hair because it’s a mess of curls all around on my pillow now, but I couldn’t stand the idea of bringing her into my bed until I’d washed every inch of her. I didn’t want any lingering scent of that deranged man’s house near her, and I’m certain she didn’t either.

  Leah is small but she isn’t overly short, she’s skinny. Her metabolism must be very high. As I stop to stare down at her for the tenth time, I see that she has fisted her hands and drawn them up near her mouth. She looks so young and innocent.

  At first glance, I thought she was sucking her thumb. My breath caught in my throat before I realized her thumbs are simply pressing against her lips.

  I want to touch her, stroke her hair, absorb her sweetness in slumber, but I must not. She needs to rest as long as she can. I’ll have to wait to touch her later.

  Leah is mine. If I had a single doubt before yesterday, it evaporated in the middle of the night when I died ten deaths thinking I might have lost her. The way she clung to me for hours kept me from losing my shit, but I can’t be sure she will wake up today and feel that same raw need to be comforted.

  She probably won’t. And I need to prepare myself for that eventuality.

  I draw in a deep breath as I leave her yet again, wandering back into the hallway. I’m drawn to the room across the hall, a room I rarely enter. I keep the door closed most of the time. I find myself shuffling toward it and turning the knob.

  Like the rest of the house, I’ve pulled out all the carpet and refinished the hardwood floors. The only piece of furniture in this room is an antique white-washed rocking chair. It was my grandmother’s and then my mother’s. When my mother passed, I took several memorable items from her house. This was one of them.

  I shuffle toward the rocking chair and lower myself onto it. It’s sturdy. In a hundred years, it will still be in good shape. My grandfather made it for my grandmother when my mother was born. I remember being rocked in this chair as a child clear up until the day I finally declared myself too old to be rocked.

  I smile at the memory. I’m pretty sure I was about ten. Probably too old for a little boy to still want to be rocked, but I’d secretly enjoyed the quiet times in my mother’s lap. She often read to me in this chair.

  Before my divorce, this was my wife’s playroom. She took nearly everything in it when she left. The rest I donated to charity, not wanting the reminders. I’ve since p
ainted the room a soft yellow, mostly because my ex-wife hated yellow.

  Between the total house renovations, both inside and outside, and the replacement of nearly every piece of furniture, there’s nothing left of my ex-wife here.

  Not that we have any animosity. We don’t. I keep up with her and her new husband, Andrew, from time to time, but I was pretty broken up when she left me after so many years together.

  Avery and I had a lot of history. We were twenty when we got married. We entered the fetish world together. We learned everything we knew together. It was her desire to be a little that brought me down the path of becoming a Daddy.

  Avery is nothing like Leah. She’s five-two, curvy, naturally blonde, blue-eyed, and a little through and through. Her particular preference for age play grew over time until it became nearly impossible for us to manage her needs with my long deployments.

  Our split-up and divorce was unavoidable. We’d grown. Changed. I had three more years in the Army. She was lonely and had needs I couldn’t meet. It was sad and hard for me to swallow at the time, but I understood. I had to let her go.

  It was the right thing to do. Avery is very happy now. I know it was bumpy for her at first. She’d hoped to find a Daddy to fulfill her craving faster than it took her, but eventually, she met Andrew. They’re perfect for each other.

  I stare out the window and shift my thoughts to Leah. I’d give anything to redo this room to suit her. The last thing she said to me keeps running through my mind. What on earth did she mean when she alluded to the fact that she was born an adult?

  After she fell asleep, I stared at her angelic face for a long time, wondering what she’d meant. So many unanswered questions running through my head, and though I don’t have any of the answers, I know one thing for sure. If she for some reason didn’t have a normal childhood, she could be craving the nurturing she missed out on.

  I think back to her odd momentary slip into a very young little space after our scene Friday night. I’m still wondering if she was abused as a child. She’d reacted strongly to me using the word naughty. Now, she’s telling me she was never a child?