Afterlife (9 page)

he observed as a Dom, and he didn’t

mind bending the

rules a bit in either direction when it

made sense. When it

was to protect someone who

obviously needed some help.

“She said she had no one. Which I

expected was true,

since if I had a girlfriend and she

went off to a place like that

at al , let alone on her own, she

wouldn’t sit comfortably for

a week.” He let the statement hang

out there, intending the

mild note of accusation, but Jon’s

instant response

reassured him on that score.

“We’re not involved like that. But I

was headed that way. I

didn’t know she was there. It’s not

going to happen again.”

The man typical y emanated tranquil

vibes like a damn

lava lamp. The whip-taut tension

Leland heard was a

radical change. “Hmm. When I saw

your card, I thought she

might be one of your occasional sub-

with-benefits friends.

But you usual y pick them smarter

than that.”

“She’s smart. Just hasn’t figured out

that part of things

yet. You know how that can be, at the

beginning.”

“Yeah.” Leland sobered. “Classy

lady. She belonged in

that crowd the way a swan belongs

among a bunch of

carrion eaters.”

“That’s been Club More’s MO since

they opened. Don’t

worry about them, Leland. I’l be

passing on this tidbit to

Matt tomorrow. By the end of the

week, Ben’l have dug up

so many legal problems with the

place they’l have to

convert to a Dunkin’ Donuts.”

“Good. I like their coffee.”

“Damn it. This is my fault.” The sigh

on Jon’s side was

fol owed by an ominous tone. “It’s a

mistake I’m going to

fix.”

“Sounds good. But give her the night,

Jon.” Leland

paused, hesitating over the other part.

Weighed the pros

and cons, what he knew of Jon, what

his gut told him, and

said it out loud. “I ran a check on her.

Pretty standard thing

in this situation, but came up with

something that happened

four years ago. She was cleaning a

gun and it went off.

Grazed her neck, the bul et went

through her window and

lodged in the outer wal of the

adjacent building. It was

cal ed in by a startled landlord when

he heard the shot, saw

her come out onto her balcony with

blood on her neck and

the gun in her hand. She looked a

little out of it. It al got

worked out, of course, and was

logged as a simple

accident, no harm done.”

Jon’s voice was tight. “She’s

thorough and careful.

Detail-oriented.”

“Yeah, wel , everyone can make a

mistake. But you’re

already fol owing the right track. The

officer who was cal ed

out, a rookie, had a different take. No

proof, so no action

taken on it, just a sticky in the file.

Anyhow, the kid thought it

was an attempted suicide. Powel has

good instincts. He’s

in narcotics now. He took it upon

himself to check on her a

couple times after that, noted she

seemed on a more even

keel, had opened a yoga studio, so

over time he assumed

he was either mistaken or she’d

gotten herself straightened

out.”

The silence was long and weighted,

and Leland’s brow

creased. “You okay?”

“She’s a friend, Leland. And more

than that.”

“Yeah, I get that impression.”

Knowing the man’s nature

as he knew his own, Leland had a

pretty good idea what

might be roiling in Jon right now. It

was probably best for

Rachel not to be exposed to it tonight.

“I know you want to

go be with her and take care of this,

but trust me. If you

don’t have a relationship in play

between you yet, you’l

want to give her about a day. She’s

pretty damn raw and

vulnerable right now. She didn’t

strike me as someone on

the suicidal edge again, but she needs

time to pul herself

together, feel like no one knows

except a nosy cop in the

wrong place at the right time.”

“Thanks, Oprah.” But Jon blew out a

breath after another

long moment. “I know you’re right. I

need to get my mind

wrapped around how to handle it.

She’s complicated. A lot

of layers I don’t yet understand, and

you gave me a missing

piece I should have taken the time to

see before I…

Goddamn it, I don’t want her to be

alone with this.
Fuck
.”

Leland didn’t bother to suppress a

grim smile at the

sound of something crashing, perhaps

accidental y

knocked off a table—or knocked off

deliberately—and the

stream of curses that fol owed.

Despite the serious

circumstances, he wished he had a

recorder so he could

play this for the other guys of Jon’s

team who were used to

him being so irritatingly placid under

pressure. Now that he

figured the woman was in good

hands, Leland could enjoy

the break from pattern, though he was

smart enough not to

goad. Much.

“Try some of those ‘ohms’ you do,”

he said

encouragingly. “You know, that lotus

thing, with the fingers

al arranged in a circle.”

He chuckled as the phone

disconnected with a definitive

click, and replaced his own receiver.

Damn, it was late, and

he’d volunteered to take Ramirez’s

early shift tomorrow.

Maybe he’d get one of the guys to

drop him off at the

corner, so he could get some more

packaged nachos from

Raj. Checking his watch, he thought

he could stil catch the

two a.m. ESPN wrap-up, after al .

After tonight’s events, he thought

he’d be dreaming of the

curvy, perfect submissive he’d yet to

find. The one who

would wear his col ar and nothing

else to bed. He’d curl his

large body around her like a

protective panther and know

she was al his, one hand cupped

around her generous

breast, the nipple teasing his palm as

he nested his cock in

the crevice of her soft ass. They’d

dream the night away

together.

He hoped Jon was on the way to

finding a similar

treasure. Something in the serious

hazel eyes of the

blonde, the set of that pink mouth, the

dignified way she’d

managed to straighten up at the end,

said she might be the

kind of pure gold every man sought.

That every Master

needed.

Chapter Four

When she got home that night, Rachel

took a thorough

shower, knowing it would be her last

one for a while. She

woke briefly in the early morning to

cal in a replacement to

her PT appointments and yoga

classes for the next two

days. Since she had two reliable

backups who were always

looking for extra money, they were

eager to take the slots

and didn’t ask her many questions,

letting her get off the

phone as quickly as possible. The

relief that she’d be

missing Dana’s appointment was

tangled with a

disappointment that only made her

more viciously ashamed

of herself.

For the next day and a half, she

buried herself under her

covers, left the TV on and slept. So

very, very tired, she

didn’t care about anything. But she’d

been down this road

before, and she knew how to manage

it. She’d give herself

the two days for uninterrupted

numbness and self-pity, but

on Day Three, she’d make herself get

up and resume her

life, no matter how impossible that

sounded from the dark

cocoon of her comforter right now.

Tears spil ed out now and again, as

she drifted back in

time and sobbed for al the losses that

had led to this, as if

the pain of what had happened at

Club More wasn’t

excruciating enough. Every time she

thought about it, she

cringed, trying to block the

humiliation and fear she’d felt.

Once, long ago, she’d cal ed her

cravings a harmless

fantasy. Not only had what she’d

experienced from Milo and

Natasha been far from harmless, but

in truth, the fantasy

that had driven her there had been

part of the barbs that

tore at the fabric of her marriage,

helping to unravel it.

She took aspirin and put compresses

on her face, but

more often than not, she just slept.

She thought about Jon,

cried about what he represented. Of

al the things she’d

have to face on Day Three, he was

the one that frightened

her most. Maybe she should go ahead

and take her ful two

weeks’ vacation. It wasn’t like she

was going to use it for

anything else. If she could afford it,

which she couldn’t,

she’d take a whole month. She

wished she could get

caught in a time vortex like in the

movies, where she could

sleep for days and days and then

wake up at the same

date she’d gone under, not having

been missed or

harassed by anyone who wanted

something from her.

Stil deep in that mode, it irritated her

intensely when, on

the afternoon of Day Two, there was

an insistent knocking

on her apartment door. She ignored it

at first, because she

didn’t have friends close enough to

visit her at home, and

the time of day ruled out any of her

working neighbors

being home and needing anything. So

al that left was the

rare door-to-door sales attempt in the

apartment complex,

and she for sure wasn’t dealing with

that today. However,

when it continued, became more

insistent, she stumbled

out of bed, swiping her hair out of

her face. Making her way

to the door through the living area

and kitchen, she peered

out the peephole.

Oh God.
No way was she opening

the door to him, not

looking like this. And why the hel

was he here?

“Rachel.” No question in his tone. He

knew she was

there. “Open the door.”

“I…I have the flu, Jon. Whatever you

need, I’l help you

whenever I get back to class.” Which

was a ludicrous thing

to say, since he could hardly be here

for some mundane

reason. He shouldn’t know her

address or anything else

about her.

“You don’t have the flu. Open the

door. Now.”

He didn’t raise his voice. The words

were quiet, smooth,

yet there was that note in them she’d

never experienced in

such a targeted way. This was an

undeniable command,

and it shot through her chest, sending

an unusual tremor

through her limbs. Definitely not a

good idea to answer the

door.

Oh for God’s sake, she was a grown

woman. “Jon, I don’t

know what this is about, but it’s not

appropriate for you to

be—”

“It’s not appropriate for you to be

going to some sleazy

dive where you could get yourself

raped or worse. You’l

open this door right now, and I

wouldn’t suggest you make

me repeat myself again.”

Shock took over, fol owed by an

uncertain spurt of anger,

but it was enough to have her

unlatching the door and

pul ing it open, heedless of how she

might appear. “How

did you—”

When she opened the door, he was

standing almost in

the threshold. The recal ed violence

of nearly thirty-six hours

ago was enough to make her step

back with a startled cry,

her angry words caught in her throat.

A range of expressions crossed his

face. First, he

registered her fear. Then his gaze

covered the bruise on

her cheek, the swol en eye and lip.

The one brought a look

of gentle caution, the other a flash of

fury that he tamped

down with obvious effort.

He took two steps inside. She backed

up but gripped the

door, dizzy because of the shock of

seeing him, and

because she’d stumbled out of bed

with very little on her

stomach. Before she could evade

him, he slid an arm

around her back to hold her in place.

Then he bent to put

another under her knees and lifted her

off her feet.

Just like that. Like instead of a

woman who hadn’t

showered, who had oily, limp hair

and was wearing her

warmest, thickest flannel pajamas