Break Me Down (4 page)

Jack stepped forward, his mouth flattening into a sober line. “Of course, mistress.”

Gibson groaned. “Jack, she’s upset and shouldn’t be driving like that. We’re not in a scene. She’s a friend and I’m trying to help her.”

The big guy shrugged. “Sorry, man. Rules are rules. You’re going to need to stay inside until I see her to her car.”

Gibson threw his hands out to his sides. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Sam, don’t do this. Let me help.”

She turned and peered at him over her shoulder, resignation in her eyes. “I gave you a chance to do that. But you said it yourself. You can’t. There’s nothing left to say. I’ve got to go, Gib.”

She walked out the door with the security guard, leaving Gibson with two other staff members who would uphold the rules just as strictly. And if he was in any doubt, they both sent him don’t-try-me looks to punctuate it. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, steaming. Fine. She could leave. But he knew where she lived and he’d be damned if he was going to let her be alone tonight.

He’d give her a few minutes’ head start and then he would follow her.

But fifteen minutes later, when the guards allowed him to leave the Ranch, he never caught up with her car. She’d either
driven like a bat out of hell or taken an alternate route. No matter. He knew his destination. But when he reached her apartment, her car was nowhere in the parking lot, he got no answer when he knocked on her door, and her phone went straight to voice mail.

The seed of anxiety that had nestled in his gut when he couldn’t find her car on the road bloomed into full-fledged worry. He hit a different button on his phone and called his brother. It was the middle of the night, but maybe Sam had gone to Kade and Tessa’s house. She probably had a key, and Tessa was her best friend. Who better to go to if she needed a shoulder to lean on?

His brother answered on the third ring, groggy-voiced. “Gib? What’s wrong?”

“Is Sam at your place?”

“Sam?” Kade asked like he was trying to make sense of the word. Sheets shifted. “No. Why would she be here?”

“Are you sure? Could she have come in while y’all were sleeping?”

“No. She doesn’t have an alarm code and she knows we’re getting on a plane this morning. Why? What’s wrong? Did something happen? Don’t tell me you messed around with her and pissed her off again.”

“No, it’s not like that. Shit.” Gibson ran a hand through his hair and leaned against Sam’s door. “Sam was jumped outside of the bar tonight.”

“What?”

“She’s okay. Or was, at least. Banged up and freaked out, but okay. I saw her at the Ranch afterward, but she left upset and now she’s not at her place.”

More rustling noises filled the line and Tessa’s voice sounded in the background. “Babe, who are you talking to?”

“It’s Gib,” Kade said. “He said Sam was jumped outside the bar tonight. Have you talked to her?”

“What? Oh my God. Give me the phone.”

Tessa got on the line, and Gibson quickly explained what he knew. Then, without giving her time to ask too many questions, he got straight to the point. “I need to know if you have any idea where she is or where she’d go if she was upset.”

Tessa let out a breath, obviously shaken at the news. “God, poor Sam. She wouldn’t come to me, though. She doesn’t like bringing her problems to other people. When she’s upset, she goes all hermit crab.”

“So why wouldn’t she just come home?”

“Did you knock on her door?”

“Well, I didn’t telepathically send her a message through the wall.”

Tessa ignored his sarcasm. “Did Darcy bark his head off?”

Gibson looked up, the significance of the question settling in, and turned to the door. “No.” He knocked again, harder, louder. Nothing. “No barking.”

Tessa sighed. “Son of a bitch. That girl has a hard head.”

“What?”

“I bet I know where she is. She’s off this week, and she’s been renovating her grandmother’s house in her free time. She probably took the dog and went out to the country.”

“Wait. Her grandmother? I thought she didn’t have any family.” He hadn’t gotten Sam’s whole story, but he knew that she and Tessa had met in foster care.

“She doesn’t anymore. Her grandmother died when Sam was eight, but she found out last year that the house and property had been left to her. It’s about an hour and a half outside of Dallas in the middle of freaking nowhere, and the place is in rough shape. Electricity’s spotty and no cell service. I told her it wasn’t safe to be there at night, but she loves that place. If she’d run anywhere, that’s where she’d go—some place where no one would bother her.”

Sam alone in the country, upset, no electricity or phones? Sounded like a seriously bad idea. “I need to know exactly where it is.”

“Gib . . .”

“No, Tess. I get it. You want to protect her privacy. But I saw her tonight. She’s shaken and doesn’t need to be alone.”

“If I leave now, I can go check on her. We’re taking the company jet for the trip. They can hold it.”

“Or I can go out there, and you can go on your vacation. Come on, you know she’s safe with me. I’ll go check on her and get her to come back home. No way should she be staying alone in some ramshackle place. She can have my cabin at the Ranch if she needs a place to get away for a week.”

Tessa was quiet for a moment. “She’ll be seriously pissed at me if I send you out there.”

“Have you seen any horror flick ever made? Single woman alone in the woods in a broken-down house?”

“That’s not playing fair.”

“But it’s true. Come on. Let me help her. I know I screwed things up, but I still care about her and can be a friend to her.”

Tessa let out a beleaguered sigh. “A scared Sam is not a good Sam. She’ll lash out at anyone who tries to help. It’s one of the things that got her kicked out of so many foster placements. I can sometimes get past that wall, but she’s going to be in full-scale defense mode.”

“You don’t think I can handle that?”

“You can’t push her or caveman her. It will make things worse.”

He rubbed his brow, his heart beating fast at the thought of Sam out there alone in the woods. He wanted to push. He wanted to go out there, haul her over his shoulder, and bring her back home with him. But Tessa was right. If he tried that shit with Sam, she’d run farther and faster. He took a calming breath, trying to keep his voice even. “I’ll be whatever she needs me to be in order to get her back home safely.”

“Whatever she needs? You really mean that, Gib?” That was Kade again. Great, they’d put him on fucking speakerphone.

Gibson gritted his teeth. His brother was always doing that, poking that tender spot. “I mean it.”

“Good. Then go get her, man. If you don’t, I’m driving out there myself. That place is a goddamned death trap.”

Tessa groaned, but then he heard the sheets shift and a soft thump, like she was falling back onto a pillow in defeat. “I’ll text you the address.”

“Thank you.”

“I’d say let me know how she’s doing once you get out there, but I’ve been out that way. The cell reception is shit. So text me when you head back home,” Tessa said.

“Will do.”

“And, Gib . . .”

“Yeah?”

“If you hurt her, I’m kicking your ass.”

“And I’ll hold you down while she does it,” Kade added.

“I’m not going to hurt her.” He leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.
She’ll hurt me first.

If only he could let her.

Sam’s T-shirt clung to her, sweat glazing her back, as she ran the hand sander over the scarred hardwood in her grandmother’s dining room. The steady sound of the machine was usually good for blocking out thoughts and putting her in a state of zen, but for the last two hours her brain had proven to be louder than the obnoxious machine. And the one time she’d attempted to take a break and turn the thing off, the silence had clawed at her like some evil beast. Every creak of the old house, every rustle outside, had made her jump and tense. Which pissed her the fuck off. This was the place where she was most at home, her refuge, and those disgusting shitheads had tainted that, put that creeping fear back in her.

She gritted her teeth and tried harder to focus, making sure to keep the machine moving so that she wouldn’t get lost in thought and grind her way right through the damn floor. The first signs of dawn were peeking through the tattered curtains, and the wood dust danced in the soft light. Good. At least she’d have light to work by now. The electrical system in the house tripped anytime she plugged in more than one or two things. So the sander and a floor lamp were all she’d allowed herself since she’d gotten here. The shadows had felt oppressive. She needed the light today, needed to stand outside in the wildflower field that flanked the property and feel the sun on her face, chase the chill that had settled into her bones.

She’d do that. After she completed this room. She needed to finish this to feel like she’d beaten this horrible night, that she’d gotten something accomplished despite it. She shifted forward, her back aching and the kneepads not offering much cushion anymore, to tackle the last section of the floor. She was almost there when the loud hum of the machine cut off with a whine and the lamp blinked out. That thick silence of a power outage blanketed the room, the only sound left was a dripping faucet from kitchen.

“NO!” She shook the machine. “No, no, no!”

It felt stupid to yell in the empty house, but she’d been so close to done. So close to claiming that small victory. She sat back on her calves, tugged off one of her gloves, and threw it across the room. It landed with a sad
thwap
against the shiplap walls. Sweat stung her eyes. She wanted to punch things. To grab a hammer out of the toolbox and just destroy something. But she needed to go flip the circuit breaker. She would finish this floor, goddammit.

But she didn’t move. Instead, hot tears sliced down her cheeks. She had no idea where they’d come from, hadn’t felt the telltale burn in the back of her throat, but now that they were coming, she couldn’t staunch them. Fat, wet tears rolled down her face and dripped onto the newly stripped floors.
Plop. Plop. Plop.
Then a full-out sob heaved out of her.

“Shit.” Any of the strength she had left, any remnants of energy, drained out of her with the salty teardrops. The events of the night and lack of sleep hit her all at once, and she was too exhausted to defend against it. She shoved the sander aside, took off the other glove, and braced her hands on her thighs, the sobs coming in wracking gasps.

She was going to mess up the floors, but she couldn’t stop. She wasn’t a crier. She
hated
crying. In her first placement after her grandmother died, she’d had a foster brother who’d teased her because she’d cried every day. He’d point it out to
everyone and call her a baby. One day, she’d dipped his toothbrush in the toilet because she’d been tired of taking his shit. She’d gotten caught. That’d been the end of that placement. Not a loss at the time. But she wondered sometimes if she’d stuck that one out, if she would’ve been saved from a lot worse later on.

But that’s one reason why she’d come here. If she was going to fall apart, she could do it here, alone. Safe and away from prying eyes. No one needed to see her like this. No one would call her a baby or think she was weak or prey on that vulnerability.

So she let the tears overtake her. Maybe if she exorcised them now, she could move the hell on and forget that she’d almost been raped outside the bar, that she hadn’t been able to protect herself. That she’d failed.

But right as the heaving sobs started to quiet, the ache in her chest turning hollow and spent, something sounded outside the window. A snap. Like a twig. The noise shouldn’t freak her out. Random critters wandered into this area all the time. Wild rabbits mostly. But her body reacted like it was a major threat, her muscles tensing and her breath stalling. The tears cut off in an instant and all her senses went on alert.

Whatever the noise had been, it hadn’t set off Mr. Darcy. Sam had put the border collie mix upstairs so he wouldn’t get himself hurt while she worked. But that didn’t mean much. Darcy was a decent watchdog, but he was old and slept hard. She closed her eyes and listened, trying to focus. A soft wind was blowing through the trees and grasses outside, a whispering whir. Birds were starting to greet the dawn. Nothing sinister. Just the lovely, quiet sounds of the country. She sighed and swiped her hands over her face.
Calm down, Twitchy. Breathe.

But before she could complete the breath, a booming knock rocketed through the farmhouse, rattling the door and sending a scream right up her throat. Darcy barked from upstairs. Sam clamped her hands over her mouth just in time to cut off the scream. But she scrambled to her feet and turned toward the front doorway like the Big Bad Wolf was about to bust through.

Whoever this was, it couldn’t be good. It was too early and this house was too far out for it to be someone selling something. She needed to get to the bedroom and get the gun she kept in there. But the windows in the living room had thin curtains, and she’d have to cross that room to get to the stairs. What if whoever it was saw her?

Fuck.
Her hands shook. There were knives in the kitchen. That’d be something. She took a step that way when the banging came again, each knock a jolt of electric anxiety through her.

But just as she made it to the doorway of the kitchen, a familiar voice echoed through the house. “Sam, it’s Gib. I know you’re here. Open up.”

Every tight muscle in her body sagged in relief. Gibson. It was Gibson. Not an ax murderer in a hockey mask. Okay.
Okay.

But then as soon as that thought settled—
I’m safe
—another one hit. It was
Gibson
.

She had no idea how he’d found her, but she’d told him to leave her alone when she’d left the Ranch. And she was a freaking mess right now. If she’d wanted his help, she would’ve asked him for it. That sent a rush of righteous indignation
right up her spine, anger hot on its heels.

Part of her was tempted to ignore his pushy ass. Pretend she wasn’t here. But knowing him, he’d break the damn door down. So instead, she gathered up that anger into a nice, spinning ball in her gut and stalked toward the door.

He banged on it again before she could reach it, so when she swung the door open, his fist was still hovering in the air. He blinked as if surprised she’d actually appeared, and then blatant relief descended over his features. “Thank Christ.”

Her jaw clenched, and she had to force it to relax to speak. “What the hell are you doing here?”

His gaze skated over her, a deep line appearing between his brows as he ignored her question. “Shit, Sam, you look . . . baby.”

She had a good idea what she looked like. She was sweaty, covered with wood dust, and between the attack last night and all the crying, her face probably looked like she’d been hit with a wet bag of rocks. Goddammit. This was the last thing she needed Gibson to see. And the fact that he’d forced her into letting him see her like this pissed her off even more. “Don’t you dare call me
baby
or look at me like that. You’re not supposed to be here. I didn’t invite you.”

His blue eyes flicked upward, rigid determination there. “You don’t need to be alone right now. And you damn well shouldn’t be alone out here in the middle of nowhere.” He swung a hand toward the door. “A stiff wind would knock this thing down. What are you thinking?”

Well, that just punched all her bitch buttons. “Thanks for stopping by. It’s been fun. I’m alive and fine. You can go home now. Buh-bye.”

She moved to shut the door, but his hand flew out to block it from closing. “Oh, no you don’t. You can be pissed at me all you want. But if you think I’m leaving you out here like this, let me alleviate you of that notion. Not gonna happen, sunshine.”

Her grip on the door tightened. “What? You gonna drag me out kicking and screaming, Gib? I’ll fucking fight you.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked and he took a step forward. “You know I’m not going to put my hands on you like that. But you either come willingly or you’re going to be staring at my ugly mug until you do.”

Ugly mug
was about as far from the truth as possible. Even with dark shadows under his eyes, his hair disheveled from raking fingers, and a wrinkled shirt, he looked like he’d just fallen off the stage of some hot man revue. But she was too ticked off to care about how hot he was. Mostly.

“Leave, Gib.”

“Not unless you come with me.” He ducked under the arm she had braced on the door and strode inside.

“Oh my God.” She spun around, the door swinging shut on its own behind her. “Boundaries, dude. Ever heard of the word?”

“Yep. Can spell it and everything.” Gib crossed his arms over his chest and peered around, examining the place. His gaze landed on the sander and the stripped floor of the adjoining dining room. “Is this what you’ve been up to?”

She groaned. He wasn’t going to go away. That much was clear. And she wasn’t going with him. He really would have
to fight her for that. She’d waited too long to take this week off. And she wanted that week spent here. If she could knock out the list of projects she had, she’d be that much closer to having this place livable. “I’m renovating. Despite what ideas you have in that testosteroned brain of yours, I didn’t run out here because I’m freaking out over what happened last night. I had a vacation planned. I’m going to spend the week here—alone. I just left a few hours early. And I’m fine. I come out here all the time. I have a gun. I have Darcy. No serial killers have bothered me yet.”

“
Yet
. There’s a key word for ya.
Friday the 13th Part Thirty-Five
could be set here.”

“Gib.”

“Look, I get that you don’t want me here. But you’re not going to convince me everything’s peachy. Your argument would hold more water if it weren’t obvious that you’ve been crying, that you haven’t slept, and that you were completely freaked out when you bolted at the Ranch.”

She gritted her teeth, hoping her steely gaze would make him back the hell off. “I’m. Fine.”

But instead of backing off, he stepped closer, his eyes softening and his hands cupping her shoulders. “I don’t think you are. And that’s cool. Feel whatever you need to feel. You don’t have to hide that from me or be embarrassed. But I need you to forget for a second that you’re mad at me. Forget all that shit at the Ranch. And remember that before anything else, I’m your friend, Sam. And if this were my brother or Pike or Foster acting like a hardheaded, reckless jackass, I would call them out, too. Would you let Tessa do this? Stay out here alone when she’d just been through something fucking traumatic?”

His palms on her shoulders were almost too much. She’d die if he could feel her trembling. But the touch was somehow grounding, too—settling. And she hated to admit he was right. She’d never let Tessa do this. She could come up with ten arguments for why it was a dumb idea. But she couldn’t leave. If she left, her attackers won. They would successfully steal her vacation, change her plans, alter her life. She met Gibson’s gaze, needing him to understand, needing him to hear her. She put her hands over his. “I can’t go, Gib. I won’t. I get what you’re saying, but . . . I need this. Maybe more than anything. I need to be here.”

She hated the pleading tone in her voice, had never wanted Gibson to see this side of her. Even if he hadn’t wanted to go down that road with her, in her mind, she was still the domme and he the sub. She was supposed to be strong in front of him. Instead, she felt like she could crumple at any minute. Everything raw and exposed. Sleep deprivation and the adrenaline crash unraveling the strings holding her up.

Gibson’s eyes searched hers, the lines around his mouth deepening. “You’re not going to change your mind on this, are you?”

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

He let out a long sigh and lowered his hands to his sides. “Okay, then.”

“Really?” All the air sagged out of her. Thank God.
Thank
.
God.
He was going to leave her be. She could wallow in peace. Put herself back together on her own before having to face the world again. “Thank you.”

“Right.” Gibson gave a stiff nod, turned on his heel, and headed to the door.

Sam blinked, surprised at how quickly he was leaving. She’d expected a safety lecture first or something, but he opened the door and stepped outside. When the door clicked shut, unexpected loss swept through her, like the candle inside her had snuffed out. She stood there for a few long seconds, staring at the shut door, but then she quickly snapped out of the weird reaction and strode toward it. She should at least tell him good-bye.

But when she opened the door, instead of seeing Gibson’s back, a large, bounding dog was headed straight for her. She only had time to put her hands up in front of her before Sasha, Gibson’s golden lab, was tackling her with happy barks and sloppy licks. Sam skidded back on her heels, barely avoiding sprawling right onto her ass.

“Sash!” Gibson called from the dirt driveway. “Down!”

Sasha got off of Sam and went back to all fours but did a happy, spinning dance, slapping Sam’s legs with her tail.

Gib jogged up and grabbed Sasha’s collar, guiding her into a sit. “Sorry. Being cooped up in the car that long makes her . . . well, insane.”

Sam was still stunned by the appearance of the dog when she noticed the black duffel bag slung over Gibson’s shoulder. Her gaze zeroed in on it. “What is that? And why is your dog with you?”