by Kitty Thomas
But even when the inability was real, she resisted the urge to take them. They were too important to squander.
She wasn't sure how long they were potent, but in that bottle full of pills there had to be enough that still worked. She was finally ready to sleep—a dreamless peaceful sleep that Brian wouldn't intrude on.
Wherever she woke—if there was an afterlife—she'd be free.
She took the bottle to one of the massage rooms and turned on soothing spa music and a burbling fountain. She lit all the candles on the long counter running the length of the wall.
Let the fucking house burn to the ground for all she cared. Not her problem.
She took a water bottle from the mini fridge and started to swallow the pills one by one. When the bottle was empty, she lay on the massage table, pulled the blanket over herself, and went to sleep for the last time.
It was well into the night when Lindsay got back to the house. He'd considered staying in the city, but he'd already bought more flowers for the spa. If he didn't get them into vases tonight, they wouldn't be as fresh or last as long.
Plants had been his one lasting love affair. His commitment to their proper care and feeding had been absolute.
He stopped in the kitchen for a cup of tea, but was distracted from that mission by the dirty plate and glass left sitting out. A long fat smear of chocolate frosting trailed halfway down the counter. It looked quite intentional.
Strange.
One of the new girls? Testing boundaries perhaps? None of them were allowed in the kitchen at all after it closed for the night, so that was already one rule broken—even before considering this one. He left the mess for someone else to discover and deal with, deciding against bothering with tea so late.
When he reached the spa, he laid the two large bouquets of flowers on the counter. He was about to empty one of the vases and put in fresh water but was stopped by music coming from one of the spa rooms.
Shannon never left the music on. She ran the spa like a pro and closed everything down in the evenings. As he got closer, he saw the door was open a few inches. A warm glow of light flickered inside.
She wouldn't leave candles burning. Maybe someone else...
But when he pushed the door open, he found her asleep on the massage table, a blanket pulled snugly over her lithe form. He'd always thought she looked like she could be a dancer. With those legs that seemed to go forever.
He never got to see her like this—unguarded. He couldn't stand to be in the same room with her when she was conscious. She blamed him for everything. Every disgusted look she aimed his way said it. For years it had been this way between them to the point where he'd learned her schedule and avoided their paths crossing whenever he could. She would never forgive him, and that made two of them.
She was only one of many mistakes he'd made in this house. But she was the first, the biggest, and possibly the most unforgivable. No, she wasn't the mistake. He'd made the mistake. He'd brought her into the house and failed to warn her about Brian. She'd been the one to pay for his mistake, almost with her life.
Shannon looked so uncharacteristically peaceful in sleep. Lindsay's gaze drifted to her hand hanging off the edge, and then something orange on the ground caught his eye.
He was sure for a moment his heart stopped.
An empty pill bottle laid on its side at his feet.
No. No no no no no no. NO. Not this way.
He felt for a pulse. It was there, but just barely. Respiration had slowed.
He scooped her off the table and raced up the stairs to his room. He put her in the giant tub, robe and all, and turned on cool water. He got in with her, not even bothering to take his shoes off. There was no time. He opened her mouth and shoved two fingers down her throat until she vomited up the pills. He aimed her over the rim, so she didn't get sick on the two of them.
She coughed and spluttered. Already he was rearranging his schedule in his head. He had to stay up with her all night. All his appointments would have to be shifted. He couldn't sleep until someone else could take over watching her to make sure she was okay... and to ensure she wouldn't do it again.
She started shivering—a good sign, all things considered. She was disoriented, those doe-brown eyes blinking innocently as if looking on the world for the first time.
And then she saw him, realized it was him, and her face closed off.
“You fucking bastard,” she muttered. “Always riding in to save me. Did you ever stop to think maybe I don't want to be saved?”
It didn't matter to him what she wanted. He couldn't be responsible for her death on top of everything else. So as long as he was in this world, he was determined she would be as well.
He stood and got out of the tub and kicked his ruined shoes off. Then he helped her out. He led her to the shower at the other end of the suite's bathroom.
“Clean yourself.” It wasn't a request.
She pulled the cotton robe more tightly around her body, her teeth chattering from the cold wet fabric clinging to her slight frame.
Now that she was conscious, his gaze dropped to her erect nipples protruding through the fabric. He tried to focus on her face instead. She'd been moments away from death and this was what he was thinking about?
Oh, yes.
His mind was consumed suddenly with thoughts of ripping that robe off and shoving her against the tile wall and fucking her until she stopped seeing death as an old lover she wanted to go back to.
He pushed the images away. “I said take a shower.” He said it with every ounce of firm command he could muster under the circumstances.
“With you standing there staring at me like a big freak? I don't think so.”
Lindsay's jaw clenched, and then his hands involuntarily did the same at his sides. Since she'd been damaged beyond the ability to sell only three days into her stay at the house, her training had abruptly stopped. She wasn't a nun, but she wasn't like the other girls, either. No discipline. No rules. She'd floated for years in a type of purgatory.
She was beyond punishment. Who would dare after what she'd been through? And now? With her barely back inside the embrace of life? Could he start now?
Lindsay took a slow steadying breath. No matter how much the guilt ate him up inside, he wouldn't let her play him.
“I'm not going to watch you. I have a mess to clean.”
She glanced at the floor where she'd vomited up the pills and looked suddenly embarrassed.
“I'm a doctor, Shannon. This is nothing to me. Get in the shower.”
“Turn around.” Despite her ordeal, her voice was firm and stronger than it should have been. A welcome relief.
He bit back the urge to make further demands as well as the desire to take her and spank that attitude right out of her. Instead he turned away. It was the least he could give her after everything.
Lindsay heard the robe hit the floor, the shower door open, and the water come on. When the door closed again, he turned around. He could barely make out her fuzzy outline through the mottled glass.
He sighed and went to get a mop.
59
Shannon couldn't stop shaking. And then she couldn't stop sobbing. She just stood, pressing her forehead against the tile, letting the warm water run over her. How close had she been to death? She hadn't seen a bright light or a tunnel. What if there was nothing? What if she'd almost walked into an eternal dark nothing? On purpose.
She cried because she'd almost died, and she cried because she was still here. She couldn't decide which fate was worse.
And why did it have to be him? Why did it have to be Lindsay? Of all the assholes in the world to just happen along. Why was he always saving her? Why couldn't he just let her go?
The first time she hadn't needed courage. She'd already lost consciousness... already bleeding out. All that had to be done was... nothing. If no one had interfered, it would have been over. And this time? This time she'd thought about it and tried to work up the courage
to do it. And then in some crazy mad moment, drunk on fear and exhaustion, she'd somehow found the will. Once the pills were down it was too late.
Before she could panic or regret, she'd started to feel calm and drowsy. It was so easy to just lie down and rest and not think about it. There was no time to second guess as peaceful oblivion had slowly wrapped its seductive fingers around her.
And then everything was peace. Finally.
Waking up in the tub with him was just as awful and jarring as it had been waking up eight years ago in bed wrapped like a mummy. She'd never thanked him. And she didn't plan to this time, either.
It was with some effort that she managed to stop crying. She heard him come back into the room. She couldn't let herself cry in front of him. She tried not to think about what he was doing out there. It was so mortifying. But he was no doubt the one who'd made her throw up.
To get those pills out of her stomach.
She could smell the bleach like he was cleaning up a crime scene.
“Are you going to tell anyone?” she asked, the water still pelting down on her.
“It's no one else's business. Finish up. I left you some clothes on the counter. Come out when you're dressed.”
Shannon waited until she heard the comforting click of the door before she turned off the water. He'd left a towel hanging on a peg. She wrapped it around herself and stepped out of the shower. She wiped the steam off the mirror and grimaced at her reflection.
Yep. They were still there. She turned this time and looked at her back. She hadn't looked in years. She regretted it the second she did. They weren't red anymore. Now they were white just like the ones on the front. Somehow they looked angrier and even more unnatural this color.
Lindsay had left her a pair of lightweight sweatpants and a T-shirt. She finished drying off and put them on, thankful to not have to look at the scars anymore.
She looked around the bathroom again. It was spotless and pristine now. He must have taken the bleach with him. He was probably afraid she'd drink it.
He didn't have to worry. It would no doubt be months or years before she worked up the courage to try again. She was sure he'd keep her on suicide watch. It didn't matter. She wasn't going to do anything. Not for a while. The next time she was sure it would be even harder. She might have to find another method. She knew she wouldn't get away with pills again.
He'd keep everything locked up. And if she asked for a sleeping pill after tonight, she was sure he'd stand over her and watch her swallow it, then check to make sure she had.
When Shannon opened the door, her mouth fell open. She'd never been in Lindsay's suite before. It was as if she'd been transported into a lush botanical garden. There were orchids of all types and sizes growing in pots around the room. A dizzying variety of lush, exotic tropical flowers peaked out around the dense foliage that seemed to fill the room. Her feet sank into dark green carpet which was far enough away from the plants themselves that Lindsay's intricate watering system wouldn't get it wet.
Small tubes protruded from the ceiling over this private jungle where water could fall like rain. After hitting the plants, it would swirl down drains in the concrete floor beneath the canopy of leaves.
There were three bird cages. One held an African Grey parrot that looked far too intelligent for her liking. The other two had several happily chirping parakeets of different colors. They were bopping their heads up and down to music only they could hear as they sized Shannon up.
It seemed weird now that she thought about it. Eight years and not once had she been in this room. She'd heard things, of course, but seeing it was a whole other experience. She'd never quite believed the descriptions. How could anybody maintain a room like this?
And then there was the doctor himself. He'd changed into a pair of navy pajama pants and now casually lounged on a king-sized canopy bed with his back pressed against the wall. The duvet matched the dark green carpet. Light-colored mosquito netting hung around the outside of the bed as if they really were in a jungle with a dangerous insect threat. The netting had been pulled back and draped out of the way giving her a clear and unobstructed view of the doctor.
Lindsay's chest and feet were bare. Shannon had never seen this much of him before, and it was doing a funny thing to her. He had a golden tan and... holy hell he worked out. She wanted to stop looking at him. Just stop staring. Look away!
“Fuck me, harder, harder, harder.”
Shannon startled and turned to find the African Gray parrot moving back and forth on the perch in his cage, chattering along.
“Oh yes, Sir, fuck me!” It was no mystery what that bird had been exposed to in this room. Or maybe he was a mind-reading parrot.
“Hush, Ralph.” Lindsay said, exasperated. “I now long for the days when he made commentary on psychotropic drugs and their side effects.” He opened the cage and the bird flew out and went to perch on one of the large tropical plants. One beady little eye watched them from behind a giant piece of foliage.
Shannon stared at the bird, grateful for the distraction from darker thoughts and the even worse inappropriate thoughts about the doctor. The strangeness of a parrot that talked like a porn star was enough to derail anybody's mental train. She'd once watched a video of a raven proudly and clearly saying “You motherfucker”. But Ralph topped that.
She turned back to find Lindsay watching her in that eerie shrink way he did—like he was reading the thoughts right out of her head and deciding how to diagnose her for the insurance company. What little numbered code would he put beside her name in his file? Except now, with him so... almost naked, that intense look took on so many other shades of meaning.
“We're going to go downstairs and have some tea and a talk,” he said, rising slowly from the bed.
Shannon crossed her arms over her chest, her resistance flaring back to life. “There's nothing to talk about.”
“Like hell there isn't.” He pointed at the door. “Go.”
“Or what? You'll kill me? Beat me? Cut me? There's nothing you can do worse than what he did. And nothing you would do because you feel too guilty.”
He'd stopped looking guilty and had started looking pissed. Pissed and... dear God, stop looking at his abs!
“Are you finished psychoanalyzing me?” he asked. Though they both knew she was analyzing more than just his behavior.
“I haven't decided yet. Why? Do you not like how it feels when it's aimed at you?”
“Out. Now.” His voice had gone to a scary place she'd only heard a few times from him and never directed her way.
She attempted a nonchalant shrug like he wasn't getting to her and walked out the door and down the stairs back to the kitchen. She could feel him behind her the whole way, like he'd attached himself to her as her new shadow.
When they got there, he stopped beside the counter. She'd forgotten the mess she'd made with the chocolate frosting. That felt like a lifetime ago.
“I assume you did this?” he asked. But it was really more a statement than a question.
“And?” she challenged, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Clean it up.”
She wanted to keep arguing with him. A twisted part of her wanted to see just how far she could push before he snapped, but her stupid self-preservation instinct was kicking back in again, and the last of her courage was fading fast.
Shannon took the plate and glass and put them in the sink. Then she wiped the counter down.
“Good. Now sit.”
“Did you bring me back just so you could bark orders at me? Is this supposed to make me want to keep living? You've got a shitty bedside manner, Doc.”
“Sir,” he said.
“You're out of your mind if you think I'd ever give you a title.”
She gave Brian one, but that was just because he scared the shit out of her and she never wanted to give him a reason to hurt her again.
Lindsay turned away and put the tea kettle on, then pulled up a stool on t
he other side of the bar. He sat and stared her down until she finally looked away.
“You will give me whatever I demand. Congratulations. You've become my personal project. You've got my full attention now.”
She fought to keep the pathetic fucking flutter of excitement out of her stomach. She would not react to him that way. Gabe? Sure. Anton? Absolutely. Any of the other trainers but Brian? Fine. But never this man.
It had been easy not to feel anything for Lindsay. The guilt, the way he handled her with kid gloves. It repulsed her. She'd always known she was kinky. Until Brian, the house had seemed like a dream come true. She needed a man who was in control. Lindsay was too weak because of all that guilt.
Sure, he should feel guilty. She was glad he felt guilty. But his guilt didn't improve any aspect of her life. She didn't benefit from it. And it surely didn't press on that tightly wound hot button of need inside her.
But something had shifted in him tonight.
Now that he'd finally dropped some of the guilt and avoidance, something about him was having an unwelcome effect on her.
He was a lot older than her. She wasn't sure by how much, but it was significant. Still, he was in amazing shape. The gray in his hair looked distinguished and sophisticated.
“I've had about enough of your shit. This is twice I've saved your life now,” he said.
“Saved it for what?” Shannon felt the hot tears gathering, the tears she'd been holding back behind bravado and anger. Fuck. She would not let him see her cry.
But she couldn't help it. The tears slipped past all her defenses and rolled down her cheeks. She looked down at the bright pink polish on her nails.
The stool across from her scraped against the floor, then a moment later he was beside her.
