So much for that. As she put together a salad, she averted her gaze from the phone on the counter. No. Getting dependent on Gabi wasn’t a good idea either. But she missed her company. And that of the other Shadowlands subs as well.
Gabi had described Beth and Nolan’s outdoor wedding. Master Z had volunteered his gardens, so it must have been beautiful.
And Kari’d had her baby. I wish I’d been there for that. Gabi had snapped a shot with her cell, and Kim had cooed over the tiny, scrunched-up face. A baby boy with Master Dan’s dark hair in a fine fuzz. Why do I feel like my life should be there?
Kim carried her salad to the couch and turned on the television. Not much on, although face it, she mostly wanted the noise.
Ari stuck his head in her lap, sniffing the bowl to check out the prospects for tidbits. With a whine of disgust, he lay down at her feet. He loathed salads.
So did Master R.
Kim smiled, remembering the lecture she’d gotten: “If God wanted humans to eat vegetables, he wouldn’t have colored them green. Green things are moldy.” Despite his opinion, he’d always helped her cut up the ingredients and dutifully eaten a portion. She felt wonderful when he ate food she’d prepared, and even more so when she knew it was good for him.
When she’d teased him that it was her job to keep him healthy, he’d smiled, his expression approving and pleased, although all he’d said was yes.
Was that how he felt about her? It was his job to keep her healthy? Happy?
She liked that. But what about him making the decisions for me? The times when he told her to do something and she didn’t agree. She bit her lip. There had been quite a few instances like that, actually. But she’d complied, because it had mattered enough to him to order it, and…she wanted to give him that pleasure, to receive his smile of approval.
I am so confused.
Returning home was supposed to have put her life back on track, but the track seemed to have turned into a rut. Had it been this lonely before? Maybe she should get a roommate. She wiggled her toes in Ari’s fur, and he rolled so she’d rub his side as well. A roommate who could talk. And argue, even if it was about the merits of action movies over chick flicks.
She’d actually watched a Chuck Norris movie last night. How weird was that?
“What am I going to do, Ari? Should I try to visit Master R while I’m there?” She glanced at the boarding pass on the coffee table. She had a flight to Tampa on Friday. In the hospital, Galen and Vance had warned her she’d be called back, off and on, for some of the legal stuff. Ugh. The thought of talking about her slavery again made her sick. Then again… She smiled. Partly because of her, the buyers and slavers were imprisoned. In cages. Go me.
What about Master R?
“I miss him, you know. I really do love him, and I think he loves me too. Maybe.” She frowned. How many times had she wondered? He’d only said it that once. What if he didn’t mean it?
She took a bite of her salad, chomping determinedly. “And I miss…” She sighed. “Belonging. Maybe that’s what it’s all about.” She pointed her fork at Ari. “Take you, for example. You know I own you, but you also know that I’m yours. I’m your person, and I take care of you. I feed you and brush you. But you guard me and feel important because you do. Part of it’s serving and giving, and part of it’s belonging, and part of it’s being dominated. I see the pattern, but it’s sure confusing.
“I don’t think I’d love him as much if he weren’t dominant, because that’s who he is. But just because I like some of his control, do I want it all the time?”
Dammit, why isn’t there a book with the answers in it?
Chapter Eighteen
The US District courthouse was intimidating, and the quizzing Kim had gone through hadn’t helped her nerves any. She sat on a bench in the long hallway, trying to make her insides stop shaking as she waited for Vance to return. She’d done her duty, given her information. With Lord Greville dead and the Overseer cooperating, she was mostly filling in the gaps.
She’d been able to identify the photo of the man who’d tried to buy her before Lord Greville had, and the two buyers at the sale house. The one who’d taken Holly. Her heart twisted. Beaten to death.
“There’s a pretty girl.” The rough voice brought her head up, and she checked the hall. Sam.
And Master R.
Every tiny cell in her body yearned toward him so violently it was a wonder she didn’t fly down the hall.
He just looked at her with his dark eyes. He looked tired—deep lines beside his mouth, his color almost muddy.
Are you all right? she wanted to ask but didn’t. “Hi guys,” she managed. “Are you here for FBI stuff too?”
Master R didn’t speak.
Sam frowned and then nodded his head. “The place is filled with witnesses. But we’re done now.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Can we take you somewhere?” Master R asked finally, and the wonderful sound of his rich baritone had her eyes filling with tears.
Behind the men, the door opened. Two uniformed police walked out, escorting…the Overseer. His tone, sharp and oily, struck her like a blow, the unexpected sound making her guts twist. He wore patches over his eyes, and the memory of her thumbs, the squishing—his scream…
Her stomach turned over. Gagging, she ran for the bathroom down the hall.
Raoul watched her flee and closed his eyes, despair washing over him. To have her run from him…
His heart had stopped when he’d seen her sitting on a bench near the end of the tiled hall. He’d given a bitter laugh and started to turn away—every dark-haired woman made him think of her—but it really was her. His Kimberly. He’d headed straight for her, leaving his brains—and Sam—behind him.
Sam had caught up after a step, seen where Raoul was looking, and given a grunt of…satisfaction?
The distance had seemed interminable, almost as long as the preceding weeks. When he’d been released from the hospital, he’d returned to a house as empty and cold as if in the far north. He tried watching the waves, searching for the solace she’d always received from her time on the beach. All he found were memories of her hair streaming back in the wind, her little toes wrinkled from walking barefoot in the surf, her skin smelling of salt air as if he’d caught a mermaid.
He abandoned the shore after a couple of days, the tower room soon after. The dungeon he couldn’t face at all. The kitchen had echoed with her laughter and the memories of sharing meals, her kneeling at his feet to take food from his fingers, pulling her into his lap to get her closer.
He started avoiding his kitchen as well.
When Z and Cullen had showed up unexpectedly and discovered that he’d forgotten to eat that day, Z had been…blunt.
Raoul had flown to a job site in Costa Rica, returning only a couple of days ago. He was doing better. He could get past this and move on.
He frowned at the restroom door. She didn’t look healthy, with dark circles under her eyes and gaunt cheeks. And when they’d seen her, she’d had her arms around her knees, holding herself in a tight ball. She must have talked to the Feds. He hadn’t been there to hold her, to give her a feeling of safety. Anger sparked in him, that Kouros hadn’t told him that she’d be coming.
If she’d wanted him to know she was in Tampa, she knew his phone number.
And seeing him nauseated her. His body felt like a lead robot as he turned to Sam. “I’d better go before she comes back out.”
Sam said a foul word, then nodded reluctantly. “Maybe so. Is tomorrow still on?”
Raoul hesitated, then nodded. He couldn’t cancel the party without hurting little Kari’s feelings. That would be unworthy of a man. “Sí.”
On Sunday, he’d return to Costa Rica.
Sam watched his friend bow his head and walk away. Tenderhearted bastard. The girl’s reaction had ripped his guts right out. After all Raoul had suffered, he didn’t deserve that crap. What the hell was she thinking?
He stalked over to the women’s restroom, shoved the door open, and walked in. A woman stood at the sink, decorating her face—and doing a lousy job of it. “Out,” Sam snapped.
With a squeak, she fled, leaving her lipstick behind. Sam shook his head. Coward. He had
a feeling his redheaded Linda wouldn’t have run. The thought only made him more furious. She had run, in a way. No call. He’d asked Galen about her and seen the answer in the agent’s face. She’d requested no contact from him.
Fine.
The sound of jagged breathing came from the end stall, and Sam pushed the unlatched door open. One little subbie, on her knees, half in tears. Served her right. Trying to ignore the welling of pity, Sam wet a few paper towels. “Wipe your face.”
She jerked at the sound of his voice and obeyed, tried to stand, and failed.
Sam took her arm and yanked her to her feet. Not politely. “Clean up, and I’ll see you in the hallway.”
“I’m fine,” she said. Her voice was hoarse, and she was muddy white.
He frowned as he stepped into the hall. Odd she’d react so violently to Raoul when she’d worried so much about him after he’d been knifed. Had something ugly happened in the hospital?