Big Sky (6 page)

“Never.”

Another sharp slap landed on her ass.

“Sir, please stop groping me,” she whispered through her tears. She was glad they were in the dark, because her face must be the color of a maraschino cherry.

He gathered her in his arms and held her, stroking her hair...
comforting
her.

“Please just kill me if that’s what you’re going to do. Don’t do this on top of it.”

“Shhhhh. The first week or so will be the hardest, after that you’ll be happy with me.”

He was insane. Completely certifiable if he thought she could ever be happy
obeying
him, being demeaned and degraded by him, reduced to a
thing
—not even a real person anymore.

“Was Trish happy?” she asked, her tone accusatory, but the answer he gave wasn’t defensive or the one she expected.

“Very.”

“Were you?”

His voice changed. Veronica was surprised when it came out choked. “Yes. You look a lot like her.”

And did both of them look like his mother? Because that was in the serial killer handbook. Mommy issues. But she was far too wise to say that thought out loud.

“Go back to bed now. I’ll let you sleep in since we were out so late.” He kissed the top of her head and she went back to her room, thankful at least that she had a room away from him. The memory of his lips pressed against her forehead seared into her brain, keeping her from sleep for a long time.

***

Sunlight came in through the windows and balcony door, but Veronica rolled onto her stomach, taking the pillow with her to cover her head and block out the light. She wasn’t yet awake enough to remember where she was.

Luke smacked her across the ass, not hard, but still degrading. “Get up, and make breakfast.”

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, as if she’d woken into another dream layer and if she concentrated hard enough she’d wake back up in the crappy apartment she’d been evicted from, or better yet, her penthouse. Being so tired, it was still possible to imagine that everything from losing the penthouse, onward, had been nothing but an ugly nightmare. After all, there was sun shining in her room. That had to mean penthouse.

What was the more likely scenario? That a Big Deal ad executive had gotten into such bad credit card debt she’d become nearly homeless and had been kidnapped by a rancher, or that all of that was a nightmare that mixed in a few inappropriate sexual fantasies? When she took the pillow away from her face and opened her eyes, it would be her penthouse with the spectacular view of the park.

The pillow was ripped away. She heard it hit the carpeted floor.

“Now, Veronica. It’s nine a.m. That’s practically sunset around here.”

Oh God. She hoped he was kidding. The sound of his voice made her think that was unlikely.

She rolled back over and pulled the covers over her head. A second later, he’d ripped the blankets off her. Then she heard the unmistakable sound of a belt zipping through belt loops. Before she could react, he slammed the strip of leather against the mattress, so close to her leg she felt the air whoosh. She scrambled out of the bed, still wearing the bath robe from the previous night and crouched next to the night stand.

“I-I’m not making you and your sweaty pigs breakfast.”

Somehow the sound of boots on carpet was as intimidating as they would have been on hardwood. He snapped the belt. “Oh really? I
will
use this on you. I’ll strap those legs and then make you wear a short dress so the guys can see you’ve been a bad girl.”

She held her hands over her head in a defensive gesture. “Okay, okay!”

Luke went to the closet and pulled out a short sun dress. “It only gets chilly at night right now, so you’ll wear this today.”

She balked at being told what to wear, but with the belt still in his hand, it was a battle she was willing to let go. He sat in the rocking chair in the corner of the room.

“Get dressed.”

“Leave.”

He snapped the belt again, and she struggled with the knot on the robe.

“There are underthings in the drawers. I prefer no panties, but I’ll let you make that call today.”

“Please don’t do this.”

He rolled his eyes. “Princess, you’re in my castle now. You’ll do what I say when I say. Pleading and begging isn’t going to save you. All I want to do is look at you. Is that so bad?”

Veronica opened the drawers to find bras and panties. The panties were her size, but the bra was a size too small. She didn’t want to think about the fact that she was wearing some dead woman’s underthings and that most likely another unfortunate woman would wear these after her.

She slipped the panties on underneath the robe and heard Luke’s
tsk tsk
behind her.

“I take it back. It’ll be two rough weeks for you. It was optimistic to say one.”

She shot him a dirty look, and kept her back to him when she slipped the robe off her shoulders and squeezed her breasts into the bra.

“Come here.”

She paused, considering her options. She could say no or stay where she was and get hit with the belt, or she could walk over there to him. Either way he’d get what he wanted. She gritted her teeth and walked over to where he sat smugly in the rocking chair, his legs spread as wide as possible in such a chair.

He pulled her close so that she was standing between them, then he ran his hands over her, over the lines of the panties and over and around the bra, cupping each breast. She looked away as his rough fingers slipped under the lace.

“It’s a little snug. What size are you?”

“36C.”

She shuddered against him as he leaned in and trailed his tongue over the tops of her breasts. He pulled the cups of the bra back and rubbed the newly exposed flesh.

“You’ve got lovely nipples.”

“Can I get dressed now? Please?” she said, trying to block out the feelings of arousal.

“Please
sir
can I get dressed now,” he corrected.

She parroted back the phrase he wanted to hear only because it was the quickest route to getting clothes on. She wouldn’t let him control her body like this.

He took his hands off her and nodded, and she scurried back to the bed and slipped the dress over her head. It was a better fit. She took a step back as he stood and moved toward her. He pointed at the door.

“Now go. Make breakfast. We’re starving.”

She turned toward the door and jumped when he landed a playful swat against her bottom.

***

The kitchen’s long counter was lined with brown eggs that weren’t quite the pristine quality of the grocery store and sliced bacon that stayed cold in a bowl of ice.

“There’s biscuit dough in the fridge. I’ll teach you how to make it, but what’s chilling right now is ready to go. Just roll it into balls and put it on baking sheets,” Luke said as he came up behind her. “Come.” He took her hand and led her to the back patio, which was covered with trellis work and grapes. On the patio was a long wooden table with six chairs. “Right before the eggs are done, you can ring this bell for us. We like them scrambled.” He pointed to indicate a sturdy wooden beam in the ground with a large bell with a rope attached.

“And if I refuse to be your house slave?”

“I’ll whip you with the belt until you’re more agreeable. And I’ll do it in front of the ranch hands. You want to test me on that? I can ring the bell and bring them all in for a show. They’d be eager to watch that pert little ass get whipped.”

Veronica shook her head quickly, knowing he’d do it. If he’d gotten away with doing this once before, she didn’t want to think about the kind of men he employed, or how they might get off on her pain and humiliation. It was easier to just make breakfast.

“That’s what I thought. You’ll be making two meals a day for all of us, but the evening meal will just be the two of us. I’ll show you the garden after breakfast.”

Oh yes, the garden. She’d forgotten about her gardening duty. The joke was on him. She couldn’t even keep a potted fern alive.

Standing on the back patio barefoot in a sundress, getting ready to make them all breakfast was the old-fashioned stereotype, minus one element. “I hope you don’t plan on getting me pregnant.”

“Don’t be silly. You’d be next to useless to me pregnant.”

A horrifying thought hit her and she couldn’t stop the question from flying out of her mouth. “Did Trish get pregnant?”

“Yes.”

Before she could ask anything else, he’d turned and headed out toward the cows, that ominous
yes
hanging in the air. What did that mean? She’d gotten pregnant, and he’d killed her? Veronica took a couple of tentative steps into the backyard trying to get her breath to come normally. She couldn’t get pregnant; that risk was gone. But that wasn’t the problem; it was the idea he’d kill a woman over something like that.

The grass was soft and well-manicured. She jumped at a low whistle, and turned to see a man that looked maybe fifty, a touch of gray starting at his temples. He was good-looking, but nothing like Luke. She mentally berated herself for that thought. For either of those thoughts.

“Well, ain’t you a pretty thing? I coulda swore you was Trish for a minute. You like that grass? It’s sod. We put it in for her. She was the damnedest woman. Couldn’t get her to wear shoes for nothin’ hardly.” So Luke
hadn’t
stolen her shoes? Or was that just the story he’d sold the ranch hands when he’d broken her down too far to protest the lie?

Veronica took a step back when the guy walked toward her, his hand outstretched.

“I’m Will. I won’t bite ya, honey. Luke would have my ass. I’m in charge of the dairy side of the operation. We don’t have as many cows for that, but Luke likes fresh dairy. We sell the extra. I’m also in charge of mowin’.”

She tentatively shook his hand. “I’m Ronnie.”

“Ronnie?”

“Short for Veronica.”

He nodded. “Now that I’ll believe.”

She jumped again when she heard a squawk. She barely moved out of the way in time before a chicken could peck at her feet.

“Betsy’s hungry. You’ll be in charge of that. I’ll show ya where the feed is.”

“I-I thought it was just a cattle ranch.”

“These are Luke’s personal hens. Just enough for eggs for all of us, sometimes some meat, but usually we trade for that.” Several other chickens made their way out of what looked like a little red house nearby. They weren’t as brave and curious as Betsy. Will kept talking. “Hens are also good for the garden. We’re all natural and organic out here. It’s better for the soil, better for the animals, better for us.”

She wondered if he was also in charge of marketing.

He hefted the bag of feed out of a nearby shed. “They’re free range so they’ll eat bugs and grubs. This is just some extra we give ’em, so not too much. Ya hear?”

Sensing Will wasn’t about to touch Luke’s
property
made her a little more comfortable around the other man. “What did he tell you about me?”

“The boss? He said you was homeless and needed a place to stay and some work. And we needed some help for around the house. Luke had a housekeeper come in for awhile, but it was still tough.”

“Did he tell you he took me against my will? That he kidnapped me to bring me here and treat me like a slave, and god only knows what else he has planned?”

A dark smile lit Will’s face. “Oh, he said you was given to melodrama.”

“I’m serious. He tied me up and brought me here in his pickup truck. Against. My. Will.”

“So you wasn’t homeless?”

“Well, I... kind of... It’s not like I was living under a bridge with some vagrants.”

“But you woulda been if Luke hadn’t brought you here...”

“Are you not listening to me? He’ll
hurt
me.”

“Nah he won’t.” Will took some of the feed and put it in Veronica’s hand. “Just scatter that out, and they’ll come runnin’.”

She scattered the feed and the chickens raced over on their skinny legs, clucking and pecking at the feed around her. She would have been amused, if not for the conversation she was in. She had to get through to this Will guy and get help.

“He
hit
me last night.”

Will broke out into a full-bodied laugh. “Honey, spankin’ ain’t the same as hittin’. You don’t got a mark on ya.”

Veronica’s mouth dropped open. “Yes it is. You can’t just run around hitting a woman like that.”
Unless it’s consensual
, the dirtier part of her brain supplied.

“Whatever you say dumplin’. I need to get back to work, and you need to get your cute little ass back in the kitchen and make us some breakfast. We’re about to pass out from the hunger.” He pulled a sad face.

He was already out of shouting distance by the time she could come up with a retort. They really were going to just treat her like one of the animals.

On her way back to the kitchen, she passed the garden, and a small man-made pond with a family of frogs around it. She shrieked when one of them hopped over her foot. If Luke wasn’t going to provide her with shoes, the least he could do was not have chickens and frogs running amuck. In the city, not once had she been forced to encounter an amphibian or farm animal.